Time's Enemy: A Romantic Time Travel Adventure (Saturn Society Book 1) (18 page)

She twirled a lock of hair around a finger. “I hardly recognized you with your—” he began, but the words stopped when he realized who her honey-colored eyes and her warm expression reminded him of. Violet.

Say something, Solomon, you’re staring like an idiot.
Something about her hair. Yeah. “You look a lot different now that the river’s washed out of your hair.” Not brilliant, but adequate. She giggled. Tony squinted at the row of square tents behind her. “How are you doing—your family’s all okay, I hope?”

She gave a vigorous nod. “Papa and Dewey are cleaning the mud out of our house.” She wadded a clump of skirt in her hand, like she wanted to say something else, but wasn’t sure how to ask. “Tony... why were you looking at me funny?”

“You... now that you’re all cleaned up... you remind me of someone I know.”

“Someone from the future? Your time?”

He glanced around. None of the other workers were within earshot. “Yeah.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Yeah.” He did miss Violet. And a lot of other people.

The girl sidled toward the edge of the walkway, then back again, studying the planks as if inspecting Tony’s handiwork. “Does she look a lot like me?”

Tony gripped the hammer tighter. “She probably did when she was a little girl. But she’s older, thirty or so.”

An “a-ha” grin spread across Charlotte’s face. “Maybe she’s my daughter.”

Tony chuckled. Warmth rose in his chest and spread through his ribs. “That would make her at least sixty or seventy years old in my time. But it’s possible she’s your granddaughter. Or maybe your great-granddaughter.” The resemblance amazed him. Especially her eyes. They were the same shape, the same golden shade of brown. “If I ever get to see her again, I’ll ask her.”

Charlotte fingered her hair, separated a lock, then wrapped it around her thumb. “Tony... why did you come here?”

He raised his hammer. “To help build the camp.”

“No, I mean to 1913.”

“Oh. I didn’t do it on purpose, but...” He’d told her he came from the future. No reason not to tell her the truth. “Bad people locked me up, and it was the only way out.”

Her fingers twitched. “You didn’t come back in time to save me?”

His jaw stiffened. “‘Fraid not. But I’m glad I was here so I could. Why?”

“It’s silly.” She studied the strands of hair curled around her finger. “I thought it was maybe because... you knew about me in the future, and I’d be someone special, do something—”

“Charlotte...” He grasped her hand. “You are special.” She lifted her head and the corners of her mouth again tipped up.

In the distance a woman called her name. “I have to go.” Charlotte slid her hand out of his. “I’ll never forget you.”

The woman called again and Charlotte ran off, leaving Tony alone. He watched the corner where she’d disappeared for several minutes before he turned back to his work.

As he reached for another nail, a flash of light made him look up.

Where the neighboring section of the tent city had been, was now a parking lot full of shiny, modern Chevys, Hondas, Fords, Toyotas. Passenger cars, SUVs, vans, and pickups. “Oh my God,” he whispered.

He jumped to his feet and raced for the cars, stumbling as the vertigo hit.

D
RIPPING SOUNDS.
C
LICKING AND WHEEZING.
The faint cackle of television from near Tony’s hand—the speaker unit in his bedrail.
Hospital.
Again.

Footsteps clicked on the tile from the doorway. That was what had awakened him. He willed his head to move. The effort was like trying to roll a boulder, but he managed to turn to his right. In another bed a few feet away, tubes and wires snaked around a motionless, withered form. A light blanket of relief settled over Tony. The machines were hooked up to his roommate, not him.

And he’d made it back from the past.

On his other side, vinyl crackled as someone sat in the guest chair. “Next time, come back to the House before you jump,” the visitor said. A man. Not his dad or Charlie. Not Bernie. Tony forced his head around.

Everly! Tony opened his mouth but nothing came out. Everly’s mild smirk spread to reveal his even teeth. “That way you won’t have to deal with doctors poking at you, trying to figure out what’s wrong when you’re just tired. No bums finding you passed out at a bus stop and calling the cops. Our recovery room’s much more restful than this hospital—”

“You!” Tony managed to gasp. The memory of the wanted posters in the 1950s-era Society House brought a cold sheen of sweat to his brow. What would Everly do to him?

“Easy there,” Everly said. “How are you feeling, Tony?”

Tony tried to force words from his dry throat. Everly seemed kind. Not someone trying to apprehend a criminal. But how could the man be so nonchalant? “I could sue you,” Tony gasped.

Everly’s eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. “For what?”

“You locked me up. You—”

“I didn’t lock you up.” The smile remained.

“That girl—”

Everly’s face settled into smug satisfaction. “Oh yes, I’m afraid I have to apologize for Taylor’s... overzealousness. But I doubt you would have undergone the test voluntarily, and it was vital that you complete the First Rite of Initiation. Which you passed with flying colors, by the way—”

“First Rite! But I—” Tony panted, trying to catch his breath.

Everly crossed his elbows over his chest. “If you want to sue us, be my guest. You won’t be able to prove a thing.”

“I could have you arrested.” Tony reached for the remote unit with the nurse call button.

Everly snatched the remote out of reach. “Come on Tony, hear me out.” Tony went limp. He lacked the strength to grapple for the remote or shout for help. Everly was right, he wouldn’t be able to prove a damn thing.

Everly held up a hand. “Look, I realize our methods seem... extreme, but the test is necessary. We have to be sure you’re the real deal—that you really can move through time. We have to have proof that you have the mental faculties, the problem-solving aptitude to deal with it, and the moral fabric to only use your abilities in accordance with the Society’s strictures.”

“Why—”

“You’d be amazed at how many have tried to infiltrate the Society. Researchers, thrill-seekers... the government... especially military types. They’d love to find out how we do it—and exploit it, change the face of history. Which is strictly prohibited by the Society Code. But we can go over that later.” He squared himself in the chair, his hands on his knees. His constant grin reminded Tony of the Cheshire cat from
Alice in Wonderland
. “So, tell me about your trip. Where—or I should say when—did you go?”

“Nine...” Tony’s voice came out a dry whisper.

Everly filled a cup from the pitcher on the bedside table. Water splashed over the rim as ice cubes plopped into the cup. He handed it to Tony.

Tony downed the water then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
The wanted flyer.
Panic rushed down his body. There he was, lying in the hospital with scarcely enough energy to lift his arm, much less escape.

“Tony?” Everly said.

“I don’t care to discuss this with you.”

The ubiquitous grin widened. “It’s okay. I’m like you, remember?”

Uh-huh. Except Everly’s face wasn’t on a wanted poster.

“It’s not like I’m going to toss you in a rubber room.”

Tony ran his finger and thumb over the edge of the sheet. The other man’s face bore no malice or deceit, and Tony considered himself a decent judge of people. The panicky feeling ebbed.

Maybe Everly didn’t know about the wanted posters.

What
the hell.
“Nineteen thirteen.” Tony’s voice was getting stronger, and his anger at being trapped against his will was returning with his strength.

“Oh, shit. I was afraid of that.” Everly’s grin disappeared. “The flood.”

“Yeah, the flood.”

“Oh, man. I’m sorry—”

“Sorry?” Tony clutched the bed rails and pulled himself forward. “I froze my ass off, about starved—and you’re
sorry
?”

Everly turned his palms up. “What would you have me do, Tony? Is it money you want? Because if you join the Society, you’ll never want for anything in that regard.” His smile reappeared. “Do you want to make it not happen? You can, though I don’t recommend it. And you’d have to wait until next year—”

“Next year?”

Everly lowered his hands and tipped his head to one side. “You jump in time, not in space. So the earth’s at the same point in orbit around the sun. Which means you always go back to the same date, give or take a little, in a different year.”

“And when I come back?”

“Same thing. If you’ve been there for two weeks, you return to the present two weeks later.”

Tony had already figured that part out. His sister told him their mom had almost wound up in the hospital, too, with the stress of her son being missing for three weeks.

No more unscheduled visits to the past. Not worth the risk.

He ran a mental calculation. He could go to the Saturn Society house on March twenty-first next year, make the jump again, only to a less eventful year. Or better yet, not at all. “You mean I can... un-do my trip back to 1913?”

“If you want to—”

“No.” Tony picked up his cup and twirled it around, making a piece of ice circle its bottom.

He’d done something important in 1913. Because of him, little Charlotte Henderson had survived the flood, gone on to live—he hoped—a full, happy life.

He’d done something meaningful. If he relived the experience, he wouldn’t change a thing.

Except maybe the trip over the wires.

He set the cup down. “I saved a kid’s life. I don’t want to un-do that.”

Everly’s grin disappeared. “You what?”

“Saved a little girl’s life—”

“That’s what I thought you said. Oh, Jeez.”

“What’s wro—”

“You changed history.”

“Oh...” Shit. The non-intervention edict he’d read on the membership form. What if Charlotte was the reason Tony was on that wanted flyer? “The kid was drowning!” He picked up his cup again, gripping it tightly enough the sides started to collapse. “There was no way I could just stand there... could you?”

Everly pulled at his ponytail. “I’d like to think I could—”

“You
what?
” What kind of monster was this guy?

“Tony, do you realize what you’ve done? That little girl could’ve grown up to... oh, give birth to Hitler, maybe. Or—”

Tony sneered. “In Dayton, Ohio?”

“Okay, bad example. But you get what I’m saying? A seemingly inconsequential act could have a tremendous impact on us all, on life on earth as we know it—”

“One of her descendants could find a cure for cancer, too.”

Everly’s lips tightened. “Possible, but unlikely. I’ve heard of a lot more examples where that kind of change had done no good... and plenty of harm.”

Tony dragged his finger down the cup’s ridged side. If Everly had a problem with Tony’s saving Charlotte, there was no way he’d condone preventing Bethany’s death.

And he’d been Tony’s best possible source of information.

Too bad. Tony would learn how to do what he needed with or without the Society’s help. Whether Everly approved or not, Bethany should not have died. How could an innocent child being beaten, brutalized, and murdered be
meant to be?

Maybe Charlotte Henderson wasn’t meant to die that day in 1913. And what of the others he’d helped ferry to safety the next day? What purpose could there be to such an extraordinary gift, if not to fix things that shouldn’t have happened? What about his warp back two years, where he’d busted Dora cheating on him, and the change in his timeline had resulted in their divorce?

“Okay, I see your point.” Everly must not know about Dora, and Tony wasn’t about to tell him. “But what about that little girl? Are you saying I should go back next year and not save her?” Not that he had any intention of doing so.

Everly waved at the floor. “No. Definitely not. It’s bad enough to change history the first time. But in the Society’s experience, going back to un-do one mistake only leads to others, often far worse. Maybe you did do a good thing, and nothing more will come of it.” He didn’t sound convinced. “You have to understand, changing something—no matter how small—can have serious consequences. Not from the Society, but in terms of the very structure of time.” He met Tony’s gaze with an almost frightened look in his eyes. “Each time one of us makes a change, it makes a tiny tear in the fabric of time. Usually it’s not noticeable.” He held out his hands, turned up his palms. “What does it matter if a blade of grass—that died ten years ago—shows up in someone’s yard today?” He lowered his hands, then held them in front of him and made a circling gesture. “Holes in time, if you will.”

Tony’s lip curled. “Holes in time?”

Everly shrugged. “Or, if you subscribe to the multiple universe theory, holes between realities. Every time you make a change, you create a new universe, a new dimension. And the division between them gets thinner. Either way, it’s dangerous. Did you see that story on the news a few weeks ago, when some kid found a grasshopper—a kind that people thought was extinct?”