“So what was in the container, Archer?” I asked.
“Well, we couldn’t open it in the field. It had been sealed with something kind of sealant epoxy and we were worried about damaging its contents. We had to carry it back to the States for analysis. It took the techs four hours to pop it open. Inside were three objects, and it hadn’t been pretty.”
I was on the edge of my seat. I really was. Ever since I started writing the journal earlier this year, the only thing I wanted to know was how all this ended.
“First was a blue sphere. This one,” he said holding up the one Artie had used to get them here.
How many did that make now? Three? Four? The math was officially too much now.
“Second, was a very interesting notebook. It was brittle and falling to pieces, but I bet you know what the very interesting part was.”
“Let me guess,” I said with a half-smile. “That it was written in English, blue ink, and in poorly worded grammar and syntax.”
“Exactly,” he replied. “I have to admit, it was a pretty interesting read. At least it was after an antiquities preservation team from the natural history museum in New York managed to transcribe it. I’m sorry, but the notebook is pretty much trashed.”
“Nuts.”
Archer smirked. “The third object was the most interesting, not to mention disturbing. It was the source of the locator beacon. A human body.” He paused, glancing at his feet hesitantly. “After close examination, it was determined to be identical to your body type and size, with a crack in the left tibia. Carbon dated as two thousand years old.”
I looked at Artie, who leaned against the wall near us, her arms crossed.
“I confirmed it, big brother. The leg had a break right where you cracked it when you fell out of the tree house when we were kids. I didn’t believe it at first. Your body… your skeleton… just lying there. I couldn’t believe it.” She shuddered and shifted her arms to hug herself. “It was creepy.”
I smiled nervously, but not at the thought of my own body having withered to little more than a skeleton, still in existence at a point where my sister could view it. I didn’t let existential things like that bother me. At least I tried not to.
I smiled because Diana had always been so blunt, so childishly naïve in the delivery of her thoughts that I found her to be a walking enigma. She was eighteen months younger than me, but by the time I graduated from Dartmouth, she was already walking away from MIT with a Masters in Aerospace Engineering. She was a child prodigy, but even with that big old brain stuffed in her head, she was as silly as Santino… and that thought caused me to pause in my tracks.
I shook my head. I’ll have to watch those two. Just another thing to worry about.
Helena held up a hand like a student in a classroom.
“Excuse me, but are you telling us that when you found a two thousand year old body in a historically impractical container, along with a notebook spewing forth all sorts of nonsense,” she looked at me, “no offense, Jacob…”
I shrugged. “None taken.”
“…that you actually believed our team traveled back through time?”
“You must be Major Strauss,” Archer said with a halfhearted salute. “Senator Strauss will be very happy to learn that you’re unharmed.”
Helena and I exchanged glances, our eyes wide and surprised.
Major Strauss? Senator Strauss?
Oh, boy.
As for Archer, his look lingered on “Major Strauss” a second longer than I would have liked. Considering his past, I immediately grew suspicious.
“Just as an aside, Hunter,” he said, covering his look rather well, “the President wasn’t too happy about certain parts of your journal…” his voice trailed off, and he settled with just pointing between Helena and I.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
He looked at me sharply. “Don’t play dumb with me. You two are supposed to be officers. We have rules about these things for a reason. The President feels…”
“Listen buddy,” I interrupted angrily, “you get stuck in ancient Rome for four and a half years and we’ll see if you do something stupid…”
Helena offered me a sour look.
“Oh you know what I mean,” I said with a dismissive wave before turning back to Archer. “You can go tell this so-called ‘president’,” I said throwing up air quotes, “that he can take my journal and shove it up his a…”
“That’s enough, Jacob,” Artie interrupted. “He understands where you’re coming from; he just wished you would have been more professional in your journal.”
“It’s not an AAR,” I told her, even though memory reminded me that it was. “It’s just a stupid journal. I didn’t even really think anyone would actually find it. It was just something to keep me focused.”
Helena almost laughed at that comment.
“Whatever,” Archer piped up, annoyance obviously evident in his voice, “but to answer the major’s question, no, that wasn’t our first thought. Remember, it took us a few weeks before we could translate the journal. The fact that we picked up a transmitter signal was odd, yes, but hardly confirmed anything. The tech was so far beyond us that we thought it was Persian. It wasn’t until we called in Diana after we had the first part of the journal translated that we confirmed it was Hunter. A final DNA and dental record test confirmed it. Like she said, Jacob, even though we parted on such bad terms, even I too found it very creepy.”
I nodded absentmindedly. I couldn’t imagine what that must have been like. The sheer absence of any kind of normality to the situation had to have been mind-blowing. I tried to picture Archer, a tough guy SEAL through and through, trying to sit there and listen to a bunch of eggheads try and explain what was going on. Despite being a jack ass, Archer had always been a patient thinker, exactly what the military looked for in their 21st century officers. It had made him a good platoon leader, if not a good person, but I knew that if I had been in his shoes, even with all the TV I had seen over the years, I’m not sure how I would have dealt with it.
Helena always joked that when we’d first been sent back, I’d handled it so well because it was almost like I welcomed it, or even planned it. She’d been fairly right, as always, but I countered by explaining how I’d always been good at adapting to new situations, which was true, and that I’d always hated movies where people could never actually figure it out that zombies were in fact attacking, or aliens were invading, or monsters were maiming, when it was clearly happening right in front of them.
Did people not watch movies in the movies?
That never made sense to me. It was partially why I was so impressed that Archer and whoever else was involved managed to come to the logical, if not obvious, conclusion as quickly as they had. These kinds of things don’t happen every day.
“Just out of curiosity,” I started, “just how much time has gone by between when we disappeared and now?”
Archer and Artie exchanged glances.
“A month,” Artie answered sadly.
“A month, eh?” I asked. “A fucking month!? We’ve been stuck in Rome for five years! Five years!”
“How could you possibly blame us for that, Jacob?” She asked.
“Do you know what we’ve gone through?! What I’ve gone through?! Do you know how many times I’ve had to watch things happen that have been slowly pecking away at my soul?” I yelled, poking my head and chest in frustration, my anger burning inside me. “Years!”
“Hunter, you’re the expert here,” Archer said, holding a hand out to calm me down. “All we know is what you described in your journal, which sorry to say, some of which was lost. And you didn’t really do a great job describing time travel theory in there, anyway. Like you’ve said, you have had five years to think about this. Your sister and the other scientists back home have only had a few weeks.”
Artie looked at Archer, finally some of that original resentment I knew she felt towards him surfacing. If it’s only been
a few weeks like Artie said, they’re breakup was still technically rather fresh. Peace or no, I couldn’t imagine she was enjoying working with him.
“I’m an engineer, Archer, not a scientist. I do math. I don’t spend my time developing theoretical concepts about wibbly wobbly time travel theses.” She turned her attention back to me. “We don’t have much, Jacob, but I know how you think. To me, your journal read more like a movie script than a doctoral thesis. You always did watch too much TV. By the way, I’m sorry to say, your movie isn’t going to happen. The whole thing is classified.”
I looked at Helena again. “Figures.”
“You had a lot of pseudo-science in there,” Artie continued, “and don’t get me started on your claims of ‘magic.’ You can’t even imagine the laughs that got from the scientific think tank assigned to figure out your story.”
“That hardly seems fair,” I snapped in annoyance. “Those dorks are probably just compensating for all that time playing they’re little games about fairies and dragons. Losers…”
“Jacob, don’t pretend like you’ve never played those as a kid…”
“As a kid!” I quickly defended, glancing at, but not quite making eye contact with Helena. “I grew out of that like forever ago.”
Artie glanced at Helena.
“He’s the worst bluffer on the planet. It’s always so easy to tell when he’s lying. He hates the word, ‘like,’ but uses it constantly when he knows he’s wrong.”
I saw Helena looking at me out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t dare turn to look.
This is a nightmare. Sister and girlfriend in the same room together? God help me.
“No offense,” Archer interrupted, “but I can do without this little family reunion. I need to check on my men.”
“Wait, Archer, quick question,” I called before he could leave. Of all the questions I could think of, oddly, there was only on my mind. “Where’s that Balisong knife I gave you a few years ago?”
He cocked his head to the side quizzically. “What’s a Balisong knife?”
I gulped. “Also known as a butterfly knife…”
“Oh, right,” he said, pulling out a very familiar looking object from his pocket, flipping it open. “You mean a Xenophon knife.”
My head dropped to my chest before I snapped it back up, turning it towards Helena. “That fucking kid.”
“I told you,” she said, patting my hand.
Archer pointed at me, his face in a state of shock. “Wait a second… Xenophon Knives have one of the most mysterious origins out there. More so than Stonehenge or even the Bermuda Triangle. Legends go that it was designed by a child from Greece. They said it was impossible because it was made in a way and with materials that couldn’t be replicated for another two thousand years. The National History Museum in London still has the original one on display. No one understands it…” he paused. “Don’t tell me it was you!”
I shrugged. “Maybe…”
He grasped the side of his head with his hands and laughed. “I can’t believe it! I’ve discovered one of the world’s most unexplainable mysteries, and of all explanations, it was you who caused it! Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Still laughing to himself, and without offering any further ado, Archer threw his hands in the air, turned on his heels, and left.
Both Artie and I watched him go.
“There’s a history there with you three, isn’t there?” Helena asked.
Artie turned to face her, lowering her arms as she moved to stand in front of me. “You have no idea.” She stared at me for a few seconds, her eyes typically unreadable, before she punched me in the arm on my good side.
“Ow!” I barked. “What the hell was that for?”
She started punching me again, each of her next words accompanied by the jab of her fist.
“That’s. For. Scaring. Me. Half . To. Death!” She finished with an excessively hard slug.
“Stop it,” I whined. “I’m wounded.”
“Don’t give me, ‘wounded.’ Mom never wanted you to join the service in the first place, and now I know why! Look at where we are! I mean… you hate dad, why’d you even sign up?”
“Seemed like the right thing to do at the time,” I reasoned with a shrug.
She punched me again. “That’s not an answer.”
Helena leaned forward and smiled. “I like her.”
I groaned. It was bad enough Helena and Madrina were friends. This was a hundred times worse.
Artie turned to face her, looking at her as if legitimately noticing her for the very first time. After basically checking Helena out, scanning her from head to toe, Artie smiled and moved in to give her a very sisterly hug. Any stranger would think they’d known each other for years.
Artie could be like that. She’d always been the kind of person, even as an eight years old, to have no problem walking up to a complete stranger and saying “hi.” I never understood it, but at least as she got older, she matured when it came to putting herself out there like that.
I hadn’t needed to worry about her much once I’d become a SEAL.
Having SEALs for a brother and boyfriend had served her well. She was fully capable of defending herself. She didn’t have the natural pent up rage Helena had but she was feisty all the same.
“So, you must be Helena,” Artie said, still holding her tightly.
I looked at Helena. Her face was as nervous and awkward as I’ve ever seen it. She wasn’t used to this kind of personal affection from anybody but me either. Even a friend as close as Santino had rarely ever offered her a hug, but then again, hugs weren’t really his cup of tea. She patted Artie on the shoulder embarrassedly and looked at me uncomfortably.
Artie pulled back and held Helena out at arm’s length, analyzing her.
“I must say, Jacob,” she said, glancing at me. “Good job. She’s way prettier than I thought.”
Helena blushed and looked away. She looked no better than she had a few months ago prior to the operation where we rescued that young Roman girl, Julia.
Artie noticed her bashfulness.
“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” she reassured. “I’m just surprised to find someone who actually sees something in Jacob, let alone a hottie like you. Did you know that he never, not once, brought a girl home to meet mom and dad?”
Helena looked at me, astonished. “Really?”
“Oh, and you did?”
“My situation was a bit different.”
“I said you weren’t allowed to use that excuse anymore.”
“Since when do I listen to you?”
Artie smiled at the interchange. “It’s hard to imagine you’ve known each other for so long, when for me, Jacob’s only been gone a month. But after listening to you two it’s not that hard.”
“Tell me about it,” I joked. “You should have seen her ten months ago when she was ready to dump me.”
“Me?!” Helena yelled. “You were the one who wouldn’t talk to me six months ago.”
We glared at each other, but they were loving glares.
“And you’re pregnant!” Artie exclaimed loudly, performing the Ms. America fanning motion. “Congratulations! I’m going to be an aunt!”
“Shut up!” I said as loud as I could but still under my breath, while Helena shushed her as well. “Nobody knows yet.”
“You haven’t told anybody?” Artie asked.
“I just found out two days ago,” I said with a shrug.
She ignored me and turned towards Helena. “So, tell me, what are you…”
I shook my head and tried to focus on anything else besides the two women and their baby talk.
I was saved by Archer returning with one of his men who held some kind of bag in his hand. The man had short cropped brown hair, faded along the sides and back. Along with blue eyes and reddish hued facial hair, little more than stubble, he was a pretty decent looking guy. He also carried an M14 rifle, with a large scope on it. The M14 w
as a rifle rich in history and had still been used even in my original timeline, but its glory days had been far in the past. I had to assume this guy was a sniper, but along with their outdated uniforms and rigs, his use of an M14 only enforced my fears that the timeline had definitely been altered
And not for the better.
“Hunter, this is Gunnery Sergeant Alex Cuyler, US Army Special Forces. Sniper.”
“Gunny,” I greeted with a nod, receiving a salute in return.
“Lieutenant,” he said.
I blinked. Oh, right. I was a lieutenant. I almost forgot.
“We found multiple heads amongst the rubble,” he reported. “Each is pretty messed up, but your teammates think this is your friend. It’s… so mangled they couldn’t be sure. They said you’d be the best person to identify him.”
I sighed and glanced at Helena. Artie cut off their conversation and gave us some space. Helena picked up my hand.
“I’m ready.”
Cuyler took a breath and unfolded the piece of cloth carefully. Peeling away the last of the blood soaked layers, he revealed a mangled and bruised face. The lower half of the jaw had been torn away, and the rest of the face was so cut up, even though I saw Varus’ telling grey eyes, it was still hard to identify.
I looked away and motioned for him to close it up.
“Did you find the body?” I asked.
“We believe so. It was the only one not wearing any kind of armor.”
“Thanks, Gunny,” I said softly.
“We also found this hidden behind a sash he wore around his waist,” Sergeant Cuyler said as he held out a piece of rolled up papyrus that had been flattened. “We don’t know what it says.”
I accepted it, turning it over in my hand until I saw writing over the seal. Scrawled there in neat little letters was my name, spelled as Iakob.
“It’s my name,” I pointed out. “It’s in Latin.” I sighed. “Did you find anything else?”
“No, sir.”
I nodded morbidly and he saluted and left to tend to the body.
“Were you two close?” Archer asked.
I wasn’t sure how to reply to that. We really hadn’t been overly close. We’d been friends, sure, but hardly BFFs. I batted the piece of papyrus into my empty hand a few times, wondering if I should open it.
To Crown a Caesar (The Praetorian Series: Book II) Page 45