The Time Rip (22 page)

“Why? I mean, I’ll need it to get home again after I’ve dropped Martin off.”

“I’ll have it back for you in an hour or so. Will you let me borrow it?”

Freya bit her lip for a moment. She wanted to be able to make a quick getaway after dropping Martin off, but it would not kill her to hide in the darkened lane for an hour until Brett returned. After all, he was doing her a huge favour in carrying Martin.

“Okay,” she decided.

“So tell me what happened here. How did you get him in the van anyway if you couldn’t lift him out?”

They were walking around the edge of the field now and Brett spoke so quietly that Freya had to stay close to hear him.

“He got knocked out. He tripped over and banged his head on a wheelie bin and it knocked him out. Then some guy from the restaurant put him in the van for me. I told him I was taking Martin to the hospital. He wasn’t tied up at that point,” she added, as an afterthought.

Brett shook his head slightly and chuckled softly. “What are you planning to do with him now? And why did you bring him here?”

“Nuh uh, you’ll tell Jeremy and wreck my plans.”

Brett stopped at that and Freya, who was walking slightly behind, nearly ran into him.

“Freya, I’m aiding and abetting here. I’m not going to betray you to Jeremy, that’s not what friends do. You and Jeremy have to work out what you both want and I’m not going to interfere in that.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I’m a bit over my head here. I mean, I’ve never even met you before this evening…”

“Believe me, we’re good friends, and I’m hoping you won’t tell Jeremy I helped you out here. He was a bit antsy over it all as I recall.”

“What do you mean ‘antsy’ what happens, Brett?”

Brett began to laugh again, silent giggles shaking his body, “Hey, relax. Jeremy won’t be angry with you, I promise.”

“Tell me what happens!”

Freya’s fierce whisper made Brett stop laughing long enough to reply, “I already told you. He takes Martin to the A & E. I honestly don’t know more than that. He wouldn’t tell me so I’m guessing he wasn’t happy with the outcome, which probably means you bested him in some way, but I can’t be sure.”

Freya sighed, “I guess that sounds okay.”

“So what are you planning here?”

Freya hugged her arms around herself as they continued around the field. “How much do you know anyway? About how I came to visit Jeremy, I mean.”

Brett puzzled over her reticence before it all clicked into place. “The time rip. You’re worried about telling me the location aren’t you? I already know it, Freya. In fact I’ll take you there if you don’t believe me.”

Freya inhaled sharply and stopped in her tracks to look up at him with a glare.

“You didn’t think you’d keep it from him forever did you?” Brett’s voice was warm with amusement.

She shook her head, “I’m having a really bad day.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes for a moment and then dropped her hands. “When does he find it? What date are you on at the moment?”

He grinned again and Martin suddenly groaned. Brett crouched down and laid Martin carefully on the wet grass, rolling him on to his side just as Martin began to vomit. Freya crouched close by, anxiously watching.

“God, Brett, he’s really ill. We need to take him to hospital.”

“Don’t worry, Freya, I already know he makes it through this one. It’s a concussion. He’s going to be a bit sick with it. What is your plan anyway? Just knock on Jeremy’s door and tell him you’ve got him a present?”

“No, of course not.” Freya scowled. Then sighed and shook her head, “Jeremy still thinks I have a time device, or that Martin has one. When he finds Martin in 1908, he’s gonna think Martin’s got the device and it’ll keep both of them off my back for a while. Besides, Martin’s a pig and Jeremy offered to deal with him for me ages ago. I think it’s time he made good on that. He wants to play the hero and save the poor helpless girl from the villain; well, I’m gonna deliver up the villain for him,” she paused and then added as an afterthought, “Like a courier service. Villains Are Us.”

Brett frowned in apparent concentration as he listened. He thought Freya’s plan was completely insane, and had to fight to keep a straight face when he tried to imagine what Jeremy would make of it all, but the entertainment factor was hard to resist.

“I don’t want to rain on your parade, but are you intending to put him in the farmhouse? Because we don’t actually know if Jeremy is in right now, and he isn’t a good person to take by surprise after dark.”

“I already thought of that. I was going to leave Martin by the boundary so Jeremy doesn’t find him too soon. When Jeremy is in, I’ll chuck some pebbles at his window and when he comes out, he’ll find Martin.”

“What happens when he figures out Martin doesn’t have a time device and has no idea what he’s talking about?”

“He’ll think Martin’s lying and then he’ll take him to that stupid court in 2112 and I’ll be rid of the pig for good.”

Brett squashed his laughter at Freya’s optimistic plans. She seemed to have forgotten that he had already told her that Jeremy took Martin to the A & E and not the courts.

Martin groaned again and muttered something.

Brett leaned over Martin, speaking quietly, “Martin, you’re okay, you’ve got a concussion but you’re going to be okay.”

He straightened up and winked at Freya, “I think the vomiting is over for now, let’s get moving.”

“How far in the future are you from Brett?”

“I was born in 21—”

“Brett!”

“I’m actually from the past today.”

“What?”

“Don’t go there. It’ll only confuse the situation.”

Freya sighed. “You know, you scared the hell out of me when you showed up before, looking like an older version of Jeremy and knowing who I was. I think I’m going to return the favour when you first meet me.”

He chuckled but wouldn’t say anything further. It was just as well that Brett knew the location of the time doorway, because Freya would have struggled to find it in the blue light of the evening without the sun shining on the ripples in the air.

Brett arranged Martin carefully in the long grass by the meadow boundary some distance from the woods. He replaced the tie wraps and sweater while making sure Martin was lying as close to the recovery position as the restraints allowed.

The farmhouse radiated emptiness. Freya stood watching it while she considered the next part of her plan.

“D’you think he’s in there?” she whispered.

“Hard to say. It looks empty to me, but it’s never a good idea to make assumptions where Jeremy’s concerned. What will you do now?”

“I guess I hide out until he gets back, and then I draw him out to find Martin. You think Martin is gonna be up and about any time soon?”

“Unlikely, the tie wraps are probably unnecessary.”

Freya sighed suddenly in frustration, “What will I do if he takes more than an hour to come back, I won’t be able to meet you.”

Brett grinned again, “Don’t worry, Freya, if you’re not back in the lane in three hours, I’ll come looking for you. Then if Jeremy’s still not home, I’ll get Alex to help us stash Martin somewhere until tomorrow night and we’ll try again.”

Freya was suddenly speechless. She felt tears well in her eyes, and covered her confusion by giving Brett a hug. She took a deep breath; waiting until she knew her voice would be steady again.

“Thanks Brett, that’s fantastic. Okay, good. Martin is well hidden there by the grass. Here,” she pulled her keys from her pocket, “Hopefully I’ll be waiting in the lane when you get back.”

“Don’t untie him until you know Jeremy is here,” said Brett, his hand closing over the keys she held out.

“I thought you said he wouldn’t wake up!”

“I don’t think he will, but I don’t want you to take any chances. Take care of yourself Freya. I’m not going to be happy if you let yourself get hurt.”

“You take care of yourself too. I’m not gonna be happy if you’re not back with my van,” she returned.

Brett gave her a grin, and then was striding back along the boundary to the time doorway. Freya sat down cross-legged in the long grass close to Martin. They were now both hidden from view, but she could see the farmhouse well enough if she leaned forward and peered through the grass.

It had been easier to reconcile herself to the situation while Brett was with her. Now that she was alone, the stress of the last few hours began to re-assert itself. The isolation of being in a darkened field with only her unconscious attacker for company began to cut up her peace.

Images of Martin’s face as he came at her with the knife played repeatedly through her mind, and she determinedly thought of other things. She checked his restraints repeatedly, but still could not completely squash the panic that wanted to rise.

Despite all her efforts to the contrary, her memory continually flashed back to the grimy alleyway; to the litter and smell of grease and diesel. Tall buildings towering overhead, the distant roar of people and traffic, herself kicking Martin, shoving him backwards, and starting towards him to finish what she had begun.

Freya felt cold all over as the full implications of her reaction to the attack struck her. For the first time in her life, she questioned her belief in her own free will. She had been about to attack Martin further, and knew absolutely with a sick feeling of dread that she had been at the mercy of her subconscious.

The decision to fight had been automatic, a reflex. It made her shudder to think that at a critical moment of choice, in a potentially life threatening situation, she had had no control of her actions.

She would never have chosen to fight Martin, and would have sworn it was alien to her nature. She may have kicked him to save her own life; again, that had not been a conscious choice, but she would never have chosen to attack him further. If he hadn’t been knocked out, would she have stopped and run away as she should have?

Her mind played the scene over again, unable to leave it alone. She saw herself starting towards him, but this time he was only mildly stunned. This time he easily overpowered her and slit her throat with the knife. It was a horrible image, and all the more powerful because it could so easily have happened.

Again, she tried to squash the picture and think of something else, but her mind wasn’t having any of it. In desperation, she ended up doing mental arithmetic in the form of multiplication tables, and when those failed to occupy her, mainly because she found them too difficult, reciting as much Latin as she could remember from her school days. Going through declensions and tenses, ablative absolutes and perfect passives ad nauseam to keep her mind from going over the grisly imagined scene.

She did not know how long she had sat in the field, but she was getting steadily colder and her muscles felt stiff from sitting still. It was a bit late now to remember that she did not have a watch. Still, Brett had promised to come and find her after three hours, so it was not as if she would end up sitting here all night.

She wondered where Jeremy was. If he was in her flat looking for her while she was here. Dare she brave his kitchen for some water? She was incredibly thirsty, and the thought of what she had done to Martin, as much as the smell of vomit clinging to him, made her feel sick. He seemed a little restless and had mumbled a few times, making her heart pound. She had kept quiet, not wanting to help him regain full consciousness.

The images of what might have happened to her if things had turned out a little differently were not helping. Guilt and anxiety crawled through her and she shook with cold and leftover adrenaline.