The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) (18 page)

Stop it.

We still had wounded. No idea what to think, I made
my way to their position. Both had their eyes closed, but I knew
McDougal was in far worse shape. It wasn’t until I got close enough
to use my flashlight that I saw Wang pressing a defibrillator
against McDougal’s chest. The transportation effect must have been
too much for him.

As I arrived, Wang’s shoulders were slumped in
defeat, and he dropped the paddles to the floor.

I knelt beside him and put a hand on his
shoulder.

He choked back tears as he glanced up at me. “He was
a great man, Hunter. I served with him for years, and he never let
me down. He pulled me out of a burning helicopter once, and carried
me all the way home. But I couldn’t help him now. I couldn’t save
him.”

I looked over at McDougal’s mustached face, before
slowly pulling the blanket from the cot over his head.

“It’s not your fault, James. If anything, it’s mine.
If I hadn’t flipped that truck, he may still be alive. Hell, we may
be back on the
Triumph
by now.”

“No. I was in front with you. I saw what you did. To
hell with the ROE, you swerved to miss that man and his child. You
did the right thing.” He paused. “Look, I need to clean up here.
Make sure Strauss is all right. She should be awake by now.”

“Okay.”

No point in telling him it might have been my fault
that we arrived here as well. Wang had enough on his mind.

I shifted positions so that I was facing Helena. She
seemed fine, her breathing was regular, and her skin color was
normal. I put a hand on her forehead, noting it likewise felt fine,
before I whispered for her to wake up.

Her eyelids fluttered open.

“I was dreaming,” she said, shifting her eyes
towards mine. “I dreamt of men with red capes and swords. It was…
weird.”

I smirked. “How are you feeling? Can you move? We
may need to get out of here in a hurry.”

“I think so, but you’re going to need to help me
up.”

“Don’t worry. I’m here.”

I helped her straighten into a sitting position, but
she was able to swing her legs over the side of the cot on her own.
She rested her elbows on her knees and supported her head in her
hands for a few seconds. She tilted her head up to look at me as
she kneaded her temples.

“I think I have the worst headache I’ve ever had.
There is no way you’re driving next time.”

“Somehow…” I said, gesturing to our surroundings. “I
don’t think that’s going to be a problem anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I’m not sure exactly, but all I know is, and
this is going to sound really odd, we somehow traveled back in time
to the days of ancient Rome.”

She stared at me, probably considering whether to
punch me or shoot me. Probably deciding both required more effort
than she could summon at the moment, instead, she decided to
threaten me.

“Hunter, I swear to God, if you don’t tell me what’s
really going on in the next ten seconds, I promise, I will kill
you.”

I chuckled. That would be a fun fight.

“I’m not kidding.” I paused. “McDougal didn’t make
it.”

Her hands sprang up to cover her mouth as she looked
at the cot next to her, noticing the covered corpse.

“What happened?”

“I told you. We went back in time, and the trip
wasn’t easy. It was the single most painful experience I have ever
endured. You were drugged up, so it probably didn’t register as
badly, but McDougal was just barely hanging in there. The
transition was too stressful on his system. It killed him. Wang did
what he could, but it wasn’t enough.”

Helena looked over to where Wang knelt next to the
body of his long time commander, still cleaning his medical
supplies. His face was a mess, a reflection of his failure and
guilt. Helena’s glance lingered respectfully, before turning back
to me.

“Say I believe you. What do we do now?”

“Again, I’m not sure, but Vincent is talking to
these people. We think they’re Roman because they’re speaking Latin
and wearing togas. Not a lot to go on, I know, but...” I waited,
trying to rationalize everything, “...oh fuck it. Let’s go see what
Vincent’s got.” I stood. “Need a hand?”

I offered her my hand, which she lightly grasped.
Gently, I helped her up until we both realized she needed way more
help than what was already being offered. I had to swing one of her
arms over my shoulder, and wrap my own arm around her waist,
supporting her entire frame against my own to keep her from
collapsing under her own weight.

I grunted slightly with the effort. She was heavier
than she looked. “Gee, Strauss, lay off the desserts next time,
will ya?”

“I’m not kidding this time. I will kill you.”

I didn’t laugh. “Come on.”

We approached Vincent and the men in togas
conversing when I noticed another man, clearly not part of the
group, slinking towards the only exit. He noticed my attention and
quickened his pace, his face ablaze in terror. He was gone before I
could say anything.

I guess we’ll have a welcoming party when we get out
of here.

Vincent clasped a fist over his chest, indicating
the conversation was over.

He turned, and everyone, save Wang, gathered to try
and make some sense of it all.

“So?” I asked.

“Well,” Vincent started. “It turns out we have in
fact traveled to the days of ancient Rome, and from what I can
gather, during the time of Caligula,” he paused. “Simply
amazing.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Santino commented,
offering his usual, helpful two cents.

“But how is that possible?” Bordeaux asked, his
French accent thickening from the stress of the moment. “What
possibly could have done such a thing?”

“They didn’t say,” was the only thing Vincent could
report, shrugging.

The last thing I remembered was that glowing ball,
and knew it had something do with our predicament.

“I know,” I said. “At least, I think I do. That
sphere Santino picked up from Abdullah’s room had to have done it.
During the firefight, I picked it up, and saw this exact room and
those men within it. Then, when I touched it, I felt it pull me
through, I guess taking everything in the room with me. I don’t
know why it didn’t activate when Abdullah held it.”

Everyone just stared at me. They had no idea how to
respond. They didn’t cover time travel back in basic, in any of our
countries’ boot camps.

“You realize we’re all dreaming right now, right?”
Santino said a few moments later. “I mean, we’re standing in the
middle of an impossibly paradoxical situation right now. In fact,
I’m just about to wake up with Strauss rubbing my feet and feeding
me a smoothie. Bordeaux, pinch me, will ya?”

Bordeaux pinched his arm, shrugging sadly when
nothing happened. Never one to give up so easily, Santino slapped
his face.

“Shut up, Santino.” Helena said angrily at the
display.

“He is right, though,” I added. “And he did use the
word ‘paradoxical’ properly. I’m impressed.”

I tossed Santino a thumbs up, and he grinned
stupidly, loving Helena’s scowling expression.

“The point is, wherever we are...” Helena informed
us, splitting her attention between each of us, “there’s nothing we
can do about it right now. We need to focus on getting home.”

“She’s right,” Vincent replied, all business. “We
need to secure our gear, and see to our dead and wounded.” He
lingered on that last part, the impact of command finally sinking
in. “Finally, we need to get out of here and get into contact with
the local leadership and see if we can figure out where to go from
here.”

It was good to see he was taking to command so
smoothly. We were going to need some form of leadership if we were
going to get out of here…

Get out of here?

What happens when we do get out of here?

We’re two thousand years in the past. Having studied
no actual precedent for time travel, I had no idea how things
worked, but I did have years of television watching to at least
give me something to work with. I’d seen enough to know we were in
an extremely dangerous position, not to mention totally uncharted
waters. Everyone’s seen the movies where people travel backwards
into the past and fuck up the future. Could that happen to us? Had
we already messed something up with our mere presence alone?

I still couldn’t believe the fact we actually
traveled into the past hadn’t really hit me yet.

“There’s another thing,” I added.

“Go ahead,” Vincent ordered.

“We can’t tell these people anything about who we
are.”

“Why not?” Bordeaux asked.

“Well. We’re in the past, right? Our past. I’m no
expert, and I’m sure Vincent can back me up on this, but in Roman
history there is absolutely no mention of soldiers that fit our
descriptions. That can mean one of two things. First, no one wrote
it down because we either die real soon, or we don’t make any kind
of impression on anyone, which is kinda hard to believe. Or,
simply, we were never here, and what we do here and now, can
potentially alter the future. Our mere presence may have already
been enough to change something. We have to be very careful. We
could accidentally kill our own ancestors just by forcing them to
avoid walking into us, and then I have no idea what would
happen.”

Again, they all just looked at me.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Santino repeated
incredulously.

“Come on, Santino. You watch TV. As far as I know,
we’re the first time travelers in recorded history. I have no idea
how this shit works, but from what I think I know, I believe we
have to be very careful. We can’t mention people, places, terms,
dates, anything. It can completely change history.”

Before my words could completely sink in, the room
started to shake.

Violently.

Cross beams and bracings started to drop and rocks
began to fall from the ceiling. The room was about to collapse.

“Remember what I said about dying really quick?” I
asked, twirling Helena away from a falling rock.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Santino said for a
third time, maybe hoping his final repetition and the clicking of
his combat boots might whisk us away from this nightmare version of
Oz.

The Romans were already rushing out of the room,
quick on their feet.

Vincent took control. “Quick! Bordeaux, help me grab
one of the containers. You too, Santino.”

Wang came running over. “What about McDougal?”

“Don’t worry about him. He isn’t going
anywhere.”

“But…”

“Shut up, Wang,” Vincent yelled. “We’re going to
need those supplies.”

Helena and I were already limping our way out of the
room. Santino, Bordeaux and Vincent had one of the containers
hefted and out the door when Wang came rushing by us. With a last
look at the crumbling room, we waited while Bordeaux and Vincent
pushed the container up a hole while Santino’s dragged it out of
the way. Next went Wang and Vincent, followed by Bordeaux and then
me. I pulled Helena up through the hole just as the ceiling
collapsed in on itself, with a plum of dust and dirt following
behind her.

We exited a small domed structure, emerging into the
night sky on top of a rather high hill, surrounded by a familiar,
sprawling city. I couldn’t quite place exactly where we were, but
the city was beautiful and majestic. If I had to guess, I’d say we
were back in Rome.

But that was impossible.

Right?

So, not only were we transplanted into the past, but
also transported half way across the Mediterranean?

“Well, that figures,” I said, still in
disbelief.

“What?” Helena asked, from my shoulder.

“We’re back in Rome.”

Her only response was to look out confusingly over
the huge city.

“Damn, that really kills my frequent flyer miles,”
Santino said.

I would have punched him had Helena not been on my
arm, but my attention was drawn down the street anyway. I saw the
men from inside kneeling before a dozen armed men, wearing plain
white togas and wielding swords and shields, torches illuminating
their stone cold expressions. The sneaky man from the cavern was
standing beside them, finger pointing accusingly in our
direction.

This time, I couldn’t help have the last word.

“Aw, shit.”

***

The two sides did little except wait, stare, and see
who would make the first move. The Romans were a hard looking
group, short and lean, with stern faces and cold eyes. They looked
bulky in their togas which, combined with their weapons, probably
meant these guys were real Praetorians.

Army legions were not permitted in Rome, and only
under a few historical circumstances had they ever entered the
city. Such times were normally reserved for civil wars, such as the
ones between Marius and Sulla, and more famously, Caesar and
Pompey. If we were indeed in the days of Caligula, the military
would definitely not be in the city.

That left the personal bodyguard established under
Augustus, the only military unit stationed in the city. Unlike how
modern film portrayed them, with their flashy black armor and
billowing purple cloaks, these men wore simple white togas, and
there wasn’t a stitch of purple on them. Only a few people other
than the emperor were allowed to wear imperial purple, and
Praetorians certainly were not some of them. They probably wore the
typical
lorica segmentata
armor worn by most legionaries of
this era beneath their togas.

One of the men, a centurion I would guess by his
helmet, which possessed a plum that ran from ear to ear, the only
helmeted man in the group, stepped forward, and extended an arm,
palm upwards. Then, in a voice that would not accept “no” for an
answer, I think I heard him say something about our weapons.