[Timekeepers 01.0] A Revolutionary Tale

by J. Y. Harris

  “And when she can’t reach you on your phone….”

  “She’ll freak. And probably send dad over to the park to find me. And when he can’t find me—or you, either, because nobody’s seen us….”

  “He’ll freak.”

  “Bingo.” Kristen watched Brad drop his phone back into one of the pockets of his backpack. “So what do we do?”

  He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. What can we do? It’s not like we did this on purpose, or even know how it happened. And you’re right, it’s after twelve already.”

  “Great. So now we’re screwed in two centuries. Not only is mom freaking two hundred and thirty years in the future, probably within a few miles of where we stand, but on top of all that, we’re now walking straight into enemy territory. Yup, te-damn-riffic: screwed in two centuries.”

  She and Brad continued to trudge along behind the two colonials, Rebecca and Jacob. In fact, Kristen felt like she’d been ‘trudging’ all day. It had been about eight o’clock when she and her brother had arrived at the park for the re-enactment and encountered the mystery fog. And they’d pretty much been walking ever since. In fact, other than the brief respite at the tavern, she hadn’t sat down since she’d gotten out of the Corolla that morning.

  Man, this should count as a gym credit, as well as community service, she thought. I’ve been walking for about four freakin’ hours. And the day ain’t over yet.

  But, Brad was right, and not, she admitted to herself, for the first time today. She couldn’t worry about what was going on, or supposed to be going on, in the twenty-first century. It was pointless, since there was nothing they could do about it. All she and Brad could do was to deal with the here and now. Ha! she thought. The now is supposed to be then, as in ‘back then.’ Ancient history. But it’s not then, it’s now. And the here… all she had was a general idea of where ‘here’ was. Man, this is one whacked-out deal. I still wouldn’t be surprised to turn a corner and run straight into real time, with motorcycles and really good pedicures and fast-food restaurants that serve chicken wings. It’s just that crazy.

  Suddenly, she saw Jacob stop and raise a hand for silence. The Everhearts stepped softly to catch up to where he stood.

  “What do you hear?” Brad asked quietly.

  “I thought I heard voices. That way,” he pointed off into the trees to the left.

  “Is there a road there, or a trail?”

  Jacob shook his head, his wavy hair dancing slightly. “Whoever it is, is on foot. You three stay here; let me look.”

  Kristen put her hand out. “No, don’t,” she said, also whispering. “You have no idea who’s out there.”

  Jacob gave her a quizzical look. “I know. That’s why I’m going to reconnoiter—to see who’s out there.”

  She knew her objection had been silly and that she should feel embarrassed—especially since it caused Jacob to look at her like she was nuts—but suddenly all she really felt was tension. “All I meant was that it could be dangerous,” she mumbled.

  He smiled, and touched her shoulder lightly. “Don’t worry. I know these woods like they were my own house, and I’ve been hunting since I was five years of age. I know how to move quietly through the trees.”

  He looked at them all then. “You three stay here. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

  With that, Jacob stepped away.

  Kristen remembered reading in a book once that a character had ‘melted into the shadows.’ She’d liked that imagery, and thought it evoked an accurate portrayal of someone being swallowed by darkened shapes.

  Now, as she watched Jacob, the most accurate description she could have given would be to say that he melted into the woodland around them, even in daylight. One minute he was there, visible amid the trees, and the next he had disappeared, almost as if by magic.

  Brad directed the two girls next to a large tree trunk and set his pack down. “Sit if you’d like,” he said quietly.

  Kristen sat, if only to get off her feet for a few minutes. Rebecca, apparently made of sterner stuff, continued to stand, glancing occasionally in the direction Jacob had taken.

  “I’m sure you’ll be glad to get back home,” Brad said, as a way to keep her thoughts occupied, in addition to simply helping to pass the time.

  “Yes, I suppose,” the girl replied, grateful for the distraction. “I must confess I’d rather be doing household chores and helping my mother in the kitchen than skulking around in the forest.”

  “How long have the British been using your home for meetings?”

  “A few months. At first General Howe’s man insisted we leave our house altogether, but my mother was able to make a bargain with him. My parents could stay in the house, but the general would use it as a meeting place, or to house extra officers. Either way, my mother has to cook for them.” She smiled without humor. “British military officers certainly like their comforts. They hunt and bring in the freshest meats, and enjoy soirees and social events with the Loyalists—just as if they were in London, I’m sure. On top of that, they also raid the pantries and storerooms and wine cellars of some of the fine houses in Philadelphia owned by patriots, which their owners had to abandon when the redcoats took over the city.”

  Brad gave a hrmph. “While their lower-ranking soldiers eat whatever scraps they can forage, no doubt. And your friends who’ve been driven out of their homes—do they criticize your mother for serving the British?”

  “I don’t think so. My family has made sacrifices too. Alice and Liam, my younger sister and brother, were sent to live with relatives in Trenton when the British took Philadelphia. And you’ve met William; he decided to join the American army. So I think everyone understands the sacrifices my parents have made.”

  “Do you live in the house too, with your parents?”

  “No, I’m staying with friends nearby, although I spend most days helping my mother with her duties. But she doesn’t want me anywhere near the British officers once evening comes.”

  I bet, Brad thought. Many officers in the British army were noblemen: Major Lord This, or Captain Lord That. And many thought that others—those ‘below’ them—were fair game for whatever whim they wanted to indulge. After all, he’d seen The Tudors. Was he generalizing? Maybe. But Brad’s mother wouldn’t want Kristen walking around Willow Grove Naval Air Base after dark, either, so he could understand Mrs. Darrow’s thinking in regard to Rebecca.

  Speaking of Kristen, Brad looked over to see her rooting through her backpack. Luckily, Rebecca had her back to his sister, as Kris began to systematically take things out of said pack: paperback book, cellphone, flashlight, something he supposed was some sort of makeup, and the PSP game system.

  Finally she must have found what she was looking for, as she then tossed everything else back in the bag. That’s right: tossed. Leave it to his sister to take no heed of organization or care of her belongings.

  “Hey,” Kris said, getting to her feet. “Even though that journey cake was, er, just yummy, anybody want a bite of granola bar?”

  “Granola bar? What’s that?”

  Kristen had actually had the presence of mind to unwrap the bar before offering it to Rebecca and him. And, Brad noticed with admiration (and not a little surprise), she’d apparently read the wrapper before stuffing it in her backpack. Thus, she was able to say, “It’s like a snack cake. Made out of grain and nuts—among other things. It’s good for you. Sort of.”

  “Right,” Brad said, “although it’s not as good for you as an apple. Too much sugar.”

  Rebecca shrugged. “I can have an apple anytime. Right now I want to try some Prussian food. A granola bar.”

  She took the piece that Kristen had broken off for her, and sniffed at it curiously. Then she took a bite.

  “Mmmm,” she said, looking a bit surprised, “that’s quite tasty. And sweeter than I thought it would be.”

  Brad and Kristen looked at each other, and both said “Too much sugar,” he with an ‘I-
told-you-so’ tone, and she with a ‘yeah-yeah-whatever’ tone.

  At that moment there was a slight rustling of dry leaves nearby, and suddenly Jacob was standing next to them.

  “Wow, how’d you do that?” Kristen asked. “We didn’t hear a blasted thing, and suddenly—boom, you’re here. Man, you’re good!”

  “I told you, I’ve been hunting and tracking for years. And besides,” he continued, looking at them censoriously, “you’ve been too busy talking about granola and sugar to notice my approach.”

  “Oh, you heard that?” Brad asked, as bit sheepishly.

  “Only from a mile away.”

  “I thought we were whispering,” Kristen replied… in a whisper.

  “You were whispering loudly,” came the reply… in a similar tone.

  Rebecca cleared her throat, effectively putting an end to this silly conversation. “What did you see out there?” she asked Jacob.

  “Just what I expected to see: redcoat scouts. Two of ’em, and pretty clumsy, I might add. Or maybe just overconfident. They were making as much noise tramping through the trees as a wounded deer.”

  Kristen didn’t want to think about Bambi, hurt in the woods. “Could you hear them talking?”

  Jacob nodded, his dirty blond locks bobbing deliciously. “I think they know that General Washington is nearby, but they don’t seem to be aware of how many men he has in the area, or the fact that there are more on the way.”

  “Well, that’s good news for us,” Brad said. “Er, for you.”

  “No, ‘us’ is right,” Kristen corrected. “We’re definitely with them”—tilting her head to indicate Jacob and Rebecca—“so if we’re with them, that means that we are a part of ‘us.’”

  Everyone looked at her blankly. “What?” she asked defensively. “It makes perfect sense.”

  “If you say so,” Jacob replied. He shook his head. “Anyway, we should be on our way. With luck I should be able to get you to the Frankford mill and back to Philadelphia by sunset.”

  “Sunset,” Kristen repeated. “Yippee.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Sunset! That meant the setting of the sun, Kristen thought. When it got dark. As in evening, which leads directly to night. We can’t be here then; not at night, and certainly not—sure as hayell not—overnight.

  It was Saturday, for god’s sake. She was supposed to be at the re-enactment until about one o’clock, go home for lunch, then she and Abby were scheduled to go to the library and after that maybe get some fro-yo, and she’d be home by six to eat dinner and be at the O’Neill’s by seven-thirty to babysit.

  It was supposed to be a normal Saturday: hanging out with friends, putting up with geek-boy brother, talking and texting, spending the evening watching cheesy sci-fi movies once little Daniel O’Neill was safely in his baby bed. Just typical stuff for teenaged girls.

  Instead, here she was, playing Time Travel Tammy. Wearing an uncomfortable long dress, carrying or wearing her backpack everywhere, walking mile after mile after friggin’ daggone mile.

  She didn’t even want to think about having to spend the night here. Not without a bunch more provisions. It was fall, and Pennsylvania tends to be chilly this time of year—to say the least!—especially at night; temperatures generally bottomed out in the forties, and it wasn’t inconceivable that the low could even dip into the thirties. The drama club’s colonial-era dress she was wearing was heavy compared to the sweat-shirt and jeans she’d normally have on, but it wasn’t so heavy that it would keep Kristen warm if it got much cooler. So far, the exertions of all this walking had done a lot to keep her warm, but once it got dark, she doubted they’d do much walking. And neither she nor Brad had a coat—oops, make that a cloak to stay in period with the vernacular—to wear over their costumes. In fact, other than a tee- or sweat-shirt or something stuffed in her backpack, Kristen didn’t have anything to wear to help her keep warm, and she doubted Brad did either. (Even if he was a boy scout, this was one eventuality she was pretty sure that even he hadn’t thought to prepare for.)

  So, staying overnight here in the woods was a no-go. They couldn’t do it—she wouldn’t do it. Come hell or high water, Kristin Everheart was not going to sleep in the great outdoors in an ill-fitting borrowed dress in the middle of the eighteenth century.

  In the chill air of autumn.

  During the Revolutionary War.

  Not. Going. To. Happen.

  As Brad had mentioned, they couldn’t go to Philadelphia with Rebecca, and they sure weren’t going to stay in the woods. Maybe they could go back to the tavern with Jacob and spend the night there if necessary. An actual room to sleep in was probably too much to hope for, but even the taproom had a fireplace; throw a few blankets on the floor and she and Brad could probably survive the night well enough. Although even that would require some clever persuasion, as Jacob was obviously no fool. He’d have to be convinced—and his father, too—that the Everhearts weren’t dangerous or untrustworthy.

  And there was darn little to make him believe that. There was no reason in the world for anyone—Jacob, his father, Major Clark—to trust Brad and Kristen. Except the fact that they’d accompanied Rebecca in her quest to deliver important information. That was the only thing the siblings had going for them in this timeline—and that was precious little. After all, to everyone else living in 1777, Brad and Kristen Everheart didn’t even exist.

  Not to mention the fact that they had run into Rebecca Darrow purely by accident. It’s not like they had deliberately set out to help her, not like it had been a purposeful act on their part to get involved in her little secret mission. It just happened that Rebecca had been the first person they’d run into after their, er, arrival. It had just… happened.

  Nobody else knew that, of course, and it didn’t really matter.

  As the four teens walked, Kristen dropped back and reached into her backpack for her cell-phone. The sun dappled through the trees as she checked the time: three-twenty. She sincerely hoped something would happen soon. All this walking and the intrigue of helping Rebecca deliver her message was one thing; at least it had kept her occupied, given her something to do, something on which to focus her energy

  . But she really, really, really wanted to go home. She wouldn’t let Brad see it, but she was worried about how that was going to happen. And scared that it wouldn’t. What if missing person reports weren’t all abductions or accidents? What if some of them were the result of people encountering these…anomalies, these funky time-shifting fogs, and being sucked into another point in time? Amelia Earhart? She could be living like a queen in medieval Italy. Jimmy Hoffa—transported to the Han dynasty in China. Even D.B. Cooper, the guy who jumped out of an airplane with two-hundred-thousand dollars in ransom money, and was never seen again... who knows, maybe he materialized on one of Columbus’ ships and became one of the ‘discoverers’ of America.

  Well, okay, maybe not. A little too fanciful of a theory, the kind of geeky sci-fi stuff Brad would believe in. I’m just getting a little punchy, she thought.

  Kris became aware that the others were talking, and, looking ahead through the trees, she could see yet another dirt road. Catching back up to the others, she heard Jacob point out that Frankford Mill was just up the road to the north, and once Rebecca had gotten her flour, taking the road back the opposite way—south—would lead directly to Philadelphia.

  “Yes, I know this road,” Rebecca said. “Germantown Road. Once I get my flour from the mill, I know how to get back to the city.”

  “I’ll walk with you--all of you--until you near the city,” Jacob said.

  “That would be nice,” she replied, her cheeks pinking a bit. “But it’s not really necessary. I do know the way, and you need to get back to the tavern.”

  Jacob smiled at her, a crooked grin which showed surprisingly nice teeth. For someone who didn’t have access to a Waterpik or baking-soda toothpaste or whitening strips, he sure had a nice smile.

  “Well, my job
was to see that you, er, that is, the three of you, get back to Philadelphia, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Uh yeah, about that… see, we’re not going to Philadelphia,” Brad broke in. Good thing he did, too, since neither of these two seemed to remember that he and Kristen were even there.

  Jacob blinked and turned to look at Brad. “You’re what? Not going to Philadelphia? Why not?”

  Rebecca too seemed to snap out of her entrancement. “That’s right,” she said, consciousness and memory seeming to come back to her. “You said you were going to get flour, too. Then you have to go back to-- to….”

  “Er, Falls Village,” Brad said. To Kristen, he muttered, “That is what I said earlier, isn’t it? Falls Village?”

  “How should I know? I thought we were from Germany.”

  “Prussia.”

  “Whatever.” Kristen spoke up, addressing Jacob and Rebecca. “Brad’s right, we can’t go to Philadelphia. We have to stay here in the woods, preferably back where we first ran into you,” indicating Rebecca.

  “Why would you have to stay in the woods?” Rebecca asked.

  “Uhh, I don’t know... we were raised by wolves?”

  Brad smacked his sister’s arm and rolled her eyes. “Of course we weren’t raised by wolves,” he told the others. “But we do have to go back to where we found you. We’re—er, we’re meeting someone there. Later.”

  Jacob looked at them, confused. “Why would you meet someone in the forest?”

  “Because…” Brad wracked his brain—and came up empty.

  “See?” Kristen hissed at him. “Being raised by wolves is sounding better and better.”

  Brad shook his head and ignored her, saying to Jacob, “Just because, that’s why. We can’t tell you anything more because it’s all confidential.”

  “Yeah, very hush-hush,” Kristen added.

  “So,” Jacob said, “you can’t go to Philadelphia because you have to go back into the forest to meet someone, in the dark, and it’s a big secret.”