The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) (22 page)

He sighed. “So, you’re saying that the sphere, like
the rubber band, has its physical existence stretched through time,
and when activated, will find a way back to when it was originally
activated?”

“It’s a theory. Although, I guess all this
presupposes a linear and not cyclical time...”

“Hunter! Focus. So this sphere would take everything
in a room with it?” He asked skeptically.

I shrugged.

“But how is it activated?” He asked, moving past the
things we couldn’t immediately explain.

“Great question. Haven’t figured that part out yet.
But the rest makes sense. Sort of.”

“Nothing makes sense at this point,” Vincent
mumbled. “So how is it that two exist now? How is that possible?
Shouldn’t they have joined to become one sphere?”

“That’s another very good question. It seems as
though we’ve created yet another fundamental paradox of some kind.
How can the same object be in a different place at the same time?
It’s easy to say my boot exists here at five o’clock, and then in
the same place at six o’clock, but for the same boot, to exist at
the same time, in two different places, is seemingly impossible.” I
tapped a finger against my chin thoughtfully, before wagging it at
Vincent. “On the bright side, we may have just discovered a way to
replicate glowing, blue, time traveling balls at no expense. I bet
we can market them for a good price back home.”

“If this situation wasn’t so insane, that might
actually be funny. So. I ask again, more confused than ever, what
do we do now?”

“I’m sorry to say that I’m just as lost as I ever
was. Who the hell knows? Honestly, I’m ready to just throw in with
the Romans and join the legions.”

Vincent didn’t respond, and for some reason his
silence bothered me. It was like he knew something I didn’t. Like
he was hiding some important piece of information.

I shook my head and decided to drop it. I didn’t
want to think about it anymore, so I ignored the man and focused on
the road. All I wanted right now was a hot shower and a fresh
change of clothes. Luckily, Roman baths were way ahead of their
time, and a hot dip was perfectly feasible. Another plus was that
some were openly co-ed.

Maybe Helena would be up for it.

Nah.

***

We walked the last few blocks in silence, both of us
too tired to think anymore.

My fatigue surprised me. I knew I had to be in
better shape than ninety nine percent of humanity, but while the
last few hours had been strenuous, I’d gone through way worse
before, and I’d never felt this bad afterwards. Everyone else had
to be feeling it as well. My only conclusion was that the trip
through the orb taxed its travelers far more than the painful
transition alone.

A few feet before I collapsed out of exhaustion, the
Praetorians slowed, and made their way to a wooden doorway, which
opened to a small and simple house. It didn’t seem like a prison,
but I assumed these kinds of clandestine operations were common
practice in the backstabbing world of ancient Rome.

The two men guarding the entrance saluted in
greeting before opening the door. As they waved us through, one of
the guards told Vincent to ask his counterpart stationed out front
in the morning for food. It seemed like that bath was going to have
to wait, but I’d settle for a meal.

The guard shut the door behind us, and locked us
inside with a wooden plank. The house was little more than a wooden
shack, with four small rooms. A number of mattresses, made out of
unknown materials, were scattered throughout. There were no windows
or other exits, and a small fireplace was blazing away, with some
additional wood nearby.

And then there were the Pope’s Praetorians.
Scattered, they looked the worse for wear. Beaten, demoralized, and
completely cut off from the chain of command, not to mention home,
a soldier couldn’t find himself in a more compromising
situation.

Wang was sleeping on one of the mats in the main
room, while Bordeaux was out in the room opposite the entrance,
only his lower half visible, and Santino was leaning against the
door. I couldn’t see Helena, so I assumed she was probably asleep
in one of the other rooms off to our left.

Santino noticed our arrival and came to attention,
managing to pull off a very weary salute in the process.

He smiled. “Sorry, sir. I’m pretty tired, but I
wanted to wait until you got here before sacking out.”

Vincent put a hand on his shoulder. “We appreciate
it, son. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to rest soon enough, but first
I need a sit rep.”

“Yes, sir. Our guards escorted us here as soon as
you were taken inside. They even let us bring our gear container.
We weren’t manhandled, but they were very persistent. When we
arrived, we were given indigenous clothing and food. There’s some
bread over there if you’d like.”

He pointed to a small table, which Vincent and I
headed to immediately while Santino continued.

“We’re in a small, square building, with four
equally sized square rooms within. There are no windows or other
forms of escape, save the fireplace, and each room is connected,
except the back two,” he finished, pointing behind him towards
Bordeaux, before shifting his attention to the room to our
left.

“The container is filled with explosives and ammo.
We’ve got enough to hold out for a long time, and I’m pretty sure
Bordeaux could level the entire city if he wanted to. Probably
does, the sick bastard. Anyway, we restocked our magazines just in
case. Then Wang got to work on our wounded. He set Bordeaux’s
ankle, which as it turns out, wasn’t just sprained but fractured in
two places. He’ll be out of commission for a few weeks.

He took a deep breath, his fatigue worsening by the
second. “In addition to her leg, Strauss has a dozen or so minor
gashes over her body, some needing stitches. Her wetsuit is
completely trashed and unusable. Wang finished with her by
reopening the main injury on her leg and stitched it back together
properly. It was pretty nasty. He said Hunter couldn’t have done a
worse job setting the wound.”

“Hey. We were in a bit of a rush.”

“We know. He also said you saved her life. And don’t
worry. He took extra care with the stitches so your girlfriend’s
leg shouldn’t be too scarred.”

“You know…”

He cut me off with an upraised arm. “He also set her
other ankle as well which has a minor sprain. Once Wang was
finished, he cleaned his tools and passed out over here.” He
prodded Wang’s body with his foot.

I looked down at the young Brit, who clutched his
UMP to his chest like a small child would his teddy bear. I noticed
the weapon was at least set on safe, but still had a magazine
loaded into the magazine well. Kneeling beside Wang, I gently
reached out and removed the magazine, releasing the loaded round
through his rifle’s ejection port as well. There was no sense
risking the man shooting himself in the night by mistake. We were
safe. For now.

“As for me, it turns out I have a concussion,”
Santino concluded, that fact quickly becoming more evident as he
started swaying in place, forcing him to reach out and brace
himself against the wall. “I must have hit my head when the truck
flipped, so with your permission, I’m just gonna go ahead and pass
out.”

“Go ahea…”

Again, Santino didn’t give Vincent a chance to
finish before he collapsed onto the mattress, unconscious.

Vincent checked his vital signs, just to make sure
he was still breathing. He gave me a questioning look.

I shrugged. “What can I say? He’s a tough son of a
bitch.”

“Well, he’s not the only one who could use some
rest. I’ll go check on Bordeaux and sack out in his room. Go check
on Strauss and get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, heading through the door on
the left.

“And, Hunter?”

“Sir?”

“Don’t blame yourself for any of this. You did
well.”

Nodding, unsure how to respond, I made my way into
the next room. It was empty save for the cargo container. No room
to sleep, and no sign of Helena, I continued through into the last
room. I found her sprawled out on her back, her left leg propped up
on a number of pillows, wrapped in a bandage. I looked away,
noticing both legs were bare to the waist, exposing her injuries,
underwear, and perfectly bronze skin.

Turning my back to the near naked woman sheepishly,
I searched for someplace to sleep. Vincent had probably taken the
last mat in Bordeaux’s room, leaving just the one here in
hers’.

I probably couldn’t even haul the mattress out of
her room at this point even if I wanted to.

Sighing, I removed my MOLLE rig before taking off
the rest of my gear, placing it in the corner quietly. Once my
shirt was off and I had my pants around my knees, I heard Helena
shift behind me. Fearing the worst, I froze.

“Nice butt, Lieutenant.”

I shut my eyes, wishing she really couldn’t see me.
My ability to make a complete fool out of myself on a consistent
basis continued to amaze me.

“Says the half-naked woman,” I replied, trying to
make light of the moment.

“Aw, I couldn’t resist. Especially with those smiley
face boxers you’re wearing.”

Now I did blush. I liked these boxers.

Resigning to my humiliation, I took off my pants,
and removed my undershirt, folding everything with military
neatness. I crawled onto the mat next to Helena’s and pulled an
itchy blanket to my chin. A few sniffs later, I removed it
completely. I looked over at Helena to find her gazing in my
direction.

My voice lowered itself to a whisper, too tired to
speak any louder. “So, how are you doing, Helena?”

“I’ll live, but my leg really hurts.”

“Looks fantastic to me.”

“Cute, Lieutenant.”

I smiled despite it all. “Well, rest up. Tomorrow’s
going to be a big day.”

I closed my eyes, feeling sleep’s hold creep up on
me.

“Anything I should know about?” Helena asked.

“Not tonight,” I whispered, rolling onto my side and
a bit closer to the warm body beside me, “not tonight.”

Helena was quiet for a minute.

“Hunter?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t get any ideas.”

***

About five minutes later, I heard someone calling my
name. It sounded distinctly feminine, but in my near deathlike
state, I couldn’t be sure. Peeking through my right eye, I noticed
a blurry figure dangling long, thin, snake like protrusions in my
face. They smelled wonderful. As my vision cleared, I realized it
was Helena, her face dangerously close to mine, her hair tickling
my cheeks and forehead.

I groaned. “Aw, mom, I don’t wanna go to school this
morning.”

She cocked her head to the side and gave me a
dubious look. “Mother?”

I lifted my head off the pillow but just as quickly
lowered it before I could get a real look at what was underneath
Helena’s loose fitting shirt, forcing the inevitable image out of
my head.

“Sigh,” I said. “Fine. You win.”

“That’s what I thought. Now get up. They’ve given us
some food so we’d better eat while we have the chance.”

“Are you kidding me?” I asked, getting comfortable
with my feather pillow again. “Wake me up for lunch. I just fell
asleep.”

“Jacob. As far as we can tell, it’s well passed
midday. You’ve been asleep almost twelve hours. We all have.”

I opened my right eye again and rolled it to look at
her. “Damn, time flies when you’re having fun.”

“I bet” she said, offering me a hand. “Now get
up.”

“I take it back. You’re worse than mom ever
was.”

“Just get up,” she said, playful irritation in her
voice.

Groaning, I took her hand, and hauled myself up
under my own power, fully aware of her injuries. On my feet, I
noticed her Roman style clothing slip down one of her shoulders
scandalously.

She smiled as she fixed the slip and I couldn’t help
but give her a whimsical look.

This was going to be a long life in ancient
Rome.

Sighing, I pulled her close, and wrapped her arm
over my shoulder to help her limp out of the room.

We made our way to the main room to find the rest of
the team seated on the floor eating bread, cheese, fruit, a bird of
some kind, and a gloopy oatmeal type food. Helping Helena to the
floor, she and I quickly devoured what we could. We were famished,
and I tore into the random foul like a ravaged lion. The rest of
the team quietly ate their food at a more reserved rate, having
already had their first course. It seemed Vincent was already
finished and I watched him take a few sips of his wine. He glanced
at the cup approvingly and nodded.

In ancient Rome, fresh water was a scarcity, so most
of the time wine was used as a perfectly acceptable substitute. Its
alcohol content was extremely high, which worked well to fight off
bacteria. Romans watered it down as much as possible, but ancient
wine was still far more potent than the variety found in the 21st
century. The wine also tended to be extremely dry, as opposed to
sweet or fruity, making it a very acquired taste. I happened to
like it, as apparently did Vincent, but I’m sure it will take the
rest awhile to get used to, especially Bordeaux. I can’t imagine
any Frenchman liking excessively dry wine.

Washing my food down with my own glass, I too gave
the wine an approving nod. I noticed Helena wince after she tried
it.

“Don’t like it?”

She placed a hand on her throat, as though she were
parched. “It’s so dry, I can barely swallow it.”

“Get used to it. It’s all they got.”

“Great.”

Vincent put his glass down and cleared his throat.
“Last night, Hunter and I had the chance to speak to none other
than Caligula himself. I’m not sure what you people know about him,
but we were happily surprised. At some point early in his reign, he
becomes rather insane, a result of a horrible fever or so some
think. Thankfully, we got here before that happened. Instead of
murdering us outright, he agreed to let us live. He has also given
us the opportunity to prove our worth to him, which hopefully will
allow us to work with the Romans to find a way home.”