[Timekeepers 01.0] A Revolutionary Tale

by J. Y. Harris

  “That’s because… it’s not just fog,” Brad said. He looked at Kristen, who looked a little frightened.

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah, listen, Jacob, we have to go,” he said

  “I thought we were going,” the other boy replied, gesturing in the direction they’d been travelling.

  “We were. But now have to go this way. Kris and I, that is.”

  “Into the fog?”

  “Yes, into the fog.”

  “Is that where you’re meeting your friends?”

  “God, I hope so,” Kristen muttered.

  “Yes. Now listen,” Brad said, turning his full attention to Jacob. “We have to go. You can’t follow us. Whatever you do, do not walk into or toward that fog.”

  “But why would—”

  “It doesn’t matter. Just promise me.”

  Jacob clearly didn’t understand why it was important that he not walk that way, in the direction of the fog, but apparently thought better of questioning it.

  “Yes, I promise. I won’t go near the fog.”

  “You’ll go directly back to the tavern?” Brad pressed.

  “Yes. If it’s so important to you, then that’s what I’ll do. You have my word.”

  “Thank you. I know this sounds crazy and strange….”

  “Well, it’s been that kind of day,” Jacob said, smiling ruefully.

  “Yes. Yes, it has.” Brad put his hand out. “You’ve been a good friend today, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”

  Jacob shook his hand. “Actually, most of what I did, I did for Miss Darrow, at the request of Major Clark. You and Miss Everheart just happened to be with her. To tag along, so to speak.”

  “True, but still. Considering the role that Rebecca—Miss Darrow—played in these events today, and in the battle of White Marsh, it was important.”

  “The Battle of White Marsh? Is that what the attack will be called?”

  Kristen spoke up. “Actually, thanks to her warning—or rather, the confirmation—it’ll be less of an attack and more of a battle, since General Washington has been appropriately warned. And yes, it will be known as the Battle of White Marsh.”

  Jacob nodded and took Kristen’s hand. He bowed over it and then kept hold of it slightly longer than necessary as he looked at her.

  “Take care, Miss Everheart,” he said.

  He turned to start on his way—away from the fog—but then turned back. “I’m not going to see either of you again, am I?” he said, making it more of a statement than a question. “And you’re really not from around here, are you?”

  Brad smiled. “No, we’re not.”

  “Then farewell to you both.”

  With a final wave, Jacob turned and disappeared once again into the trees.

  Brad and Kristen were silent for a moment, looking at the point at which Jacob Tyson had melted into the forest. Then they looked at each other and turned toward the eerie mist.

  “I’m almost afraid to do this,” Kristen said. “What if it turns out to be just…fog?”

  “Then we’ll deal,” Brad said firmly. “But being afraid is no reason not to try.”

  She nodded. “I’m ready.”

  * * * * *

  They stepped toward the fog. Brad took his sister’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

  Perversely, like most fog, the farther the siblings advanced, the farther away the fog seemed to be. It was easy to see fog at a distance: up ahead, possibly, or behind; but not to be enveloped by it. Fog always seemed to be “over there,” but never “right here.”

  Kristen didn’t think they’d ever reach it, or at least, not reach it knowingly. It was possible, she’d observed, to never really be cognizant that you’re really even in the fog. You never seem to ‘enter’ fog, she thought; you just seem to find it in front of you, or behind you, or off to the left and right.

  This time was no exception. While the mystery mist still seemed to be ahead of them, Kristen noticed it was also around them, in every direction. It was almost as if she and Brad were in a bubble, a fog-free bubble, with the fog enveloping the outside of the bubble. They were “in” the fog, and yet the air for ten or twelve feet around them was clear.

  “Are we in it?” she whispered. “Is this like the other fog?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t really pay attention last time. This morning it seemed like normal fog, and so does this one.”

  “This morning,” Kristen repeated. “It seems like ages ago.”

  “Yeah, well, it wasn’t. It’s just about eight o’clock now, so it’s barely been twelve hours.”

  She gave an unladylike snort. “More like a lifetime.”

  They continued on, each lost in thought.

  “Wait,” said Brad, stopping. “Is it me, or is the fog getting brighter?”

  “Yeah, I guess it is. The moon’s pretty bright, but even reflecting off the mist, it’s not bright enough to make it look like this.”

  They continued ahead slowly.

  “Maybe it’s a good sign,” Brad said, trying to sound positive. “Maybe it means this isn’t just a normal fog.”

  He continued, and Kris could hear the humor in his voice. “Maybe this is the trademark of time-travel mist. You know, a gimmick, to distinguish itself from your normal, everyday, moisture-type fog.”

  She shook her head. “I think you have some sort of fog sickness, and you’re getting a little stupid.”

  Now it was Kristen’s turn to stop. “Wait! What if—”

  “What?” he asked impatiently. “What if what?”

  “What if this is special time-travel fog, but…. Well, what if it doesn’t take us back where we started? What if it just takes us to some other time period altogether?”

  “What in the world are you talking about?”

  “Look, the fog brought us to this particular day in history, but what if it’s not a direct, two-way connection? We have no guarantee it’s going to take us back to our year... the exact same day and year that we left. I mean, what are the odds? When we walk out of that fog, we could find ourselves in this same physical spot, this same forest, in—literally—any day in history. 1492, 1650, 1927, or even the year 1000. Three-hundred and sixty-five days times two thousand years is… what, over seven-hundred thousand days? We could wind up in this godforsaken forest on any day for the past two thousand years.”

  Brad looked at her, and Kristen could see the flicker of doubt in his face. Doubt and worry.

  “I hadn’t thought of that. I just assumed— Darn you, Kris! You picked a fine time to start thinking analytically. Not to mention being able to do math so quickly in your head.”

  He shook his head to clear it and looked annoyed.

  “Look, technically, you right, I suppose it is possible we could wind up in some other day, some other year. But all that doesn’t matter now. Right now, all that matters is that we have a choice: we either stay here, in this year, or we go through the fog. We have no reason to assume it will take us anywhere else. And unless you want to spend the rest of your life churning your own butter, sleeping on a straw mattress with fleas, and wearing clunky shoes that don’t fit, I’d say our choice is clear.”

  Kristen looked at her brother for a moment, and then turned. “You’re right. Let’s go.” To herself she muttered, “And let’s just hope we don’t end up in The Land Before Time.”

  As they continued into the fog, their steps slowed as the surrounding mist became brighter and brighter.

  “Definitely not normal fog,” Kristen noted.

  After a few more steps, Brad stopped, his hand on his sister’s arm.

  “Listen! Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Shhh. Just listen.”

  She closed her eyes. “I don’t hear-- Wait. Is that….”

  “Traffic! I hear traffic on the highway.”

  “Oh, thank god—civilization! Mom and Dad must be killing themselves with worry.”

  “I know. L
et’s go!”

  They began to jog, their packs slapping against their hips and sides. Kristen didn’t care if she fell. She didn’t care that she had torn the hem of her dress, or the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything other than those Styrofoam-like journey cakes all day.

  Brad felt the same. He’d done his best to be in charge and look after Kristen during this whole god-forsaken misadventure. He hadn’t known what to do any more than she had, and he hadn’t been any better equipped for what they’d faced. But because she was there, and she was younger than him, he’d done his best to bluff it out: to seem calm and logical and in control.

  Truthfully, if it hadn’t been for Kristen and the fact that he needed to be strong and confident for her sake, he wasn’t sure how he would have handled this crazy experience.

  Now, his main responsibility was to contact his parents as soon as possible so that whatever measures they had taken to find Kristen and him could be called to a halt.

  As abruptly as it had appeared that morning… as quickly as things had spun out of control earlier… the surrounding mist suddenly disappeared.

  And Kristen and Brad discovered why the fog had been so bright.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was daylight.

  Bright sun filtered through the trees.

  Brad and Kristen blinked as they stood there, and looked around. Suddenly, there was no sign of the fog, behind them or anywhere else.

  The dull hum of traffic was still audible in the distance, as well as the sound of a car door closing somewhere behind them.

  The parking lot.

  If they went back that way, they should find their car.

  Right?

  Brad reached into his bag and brought out his cellphone, flipping it on and thumbing a button.

  “GPS! It knows where we are.”

  Kristen checked her phone too.

  “No messages,” she said, frowning. “That seems odd.”

  “And why is it light? Did the fog somehow transport us through the night and into the next day?”

  “I don’t know. But I find it hard to believe that nobody’s left us any messages.”

  “I agree,” Brad said. “Let’s call mom and dad and tell them we’re back. I’ll bet they—”

  Kristen grabbed his arm. “Someone’s coming!” she whispered. “From up ahead.”

  “Why are you whispering?” her brother asked. “It’s not like it’s gonna be a British soldier and we have anything to hide.”

  No sooner had he said the words than they both saw it through the trees: a red coat advancing toward them.

  Brad gasped. It couldn’t be. They were back, they were home, in their own time. The sound of traffic confirmed that.

  They were back… weren’t they?

  They heard a rustling behind them, and, turning, Brad saw someone approaching from the way he and Kristen had just come. He saw someone wearing buckskins and a brown coat and a slouch hat.

  Jacob? Could Jacob had done what Brad had explicitly told him not to do, and followed them into the fog?

  And the British soldier… he was advancing quickly; he would reach them first. Before Brad could react further, before he could grab Kristen’s hand and run, the soldier was upon them.

  The young man—tall, thin, dark hair, with black, narrow-rimmed glasses—nodded a greeting to the Everhearts and continued past them.

  Meanwhile, the other person, the non-soldier, was coming up from behind.

  Redcoat murmured a greeting and Buckskin returned it politely. Then Buckskin approached Brad and his sister.

  “There you are,” he said. “I wondered what had happened to you.”

  He looked at them from beneath the brim of his hat, and Brad’s heart sank.

  Jacob!

  Kristen looked dismayed and confused too. “How did you—.” She shook her head. “What are you doing here?”

  The young man looked pointedly at her and then at Brad. “What am I doing here? The same thing you are, you idiots. Extra credit in history class and the community service requirement, remember?”

  He reached up and pulled off his hat, ruffling his hair as he did so.

  Kristen and Brad looked at each other, comprehension flooding through them.

  “Eric!” Brad said.

  “Uh, yeah,” Eric replied, and it came out with the clear implication of ‘duh!’ “It’s me, in the flesh, you twits. What’s up with you two? Why are you acting so weird?”

  Brad shook his head as if to say ‘if you only knew!’

  “Sorry, dude,” he said, as they continued walking. “We’ve had a rough day.”

  “Already? It’s only eight o’clock. You can’t have been up that long.”

  Kristen gave a snort. “You wouldn’t think so, would you? And yet, it feels like we’ve already had a very full day.”

  Eric shook his head. “You look like it, too. Your dress is torn, at the bottom there, and you both look like you’ve been in a war.”

  He didn’t see Kris and Brad exchange smiles.

  “Hey, Eric,” Kristen asked, “your family… they’ve lived in the area since colonial times, right?”

  “Yeah, since the 1720s, I believe. My grandfather used to talk about our family moving to this area about then.”

  “And they owned a tavern?”

  He looked at her. “So the story goes. Why? How do you know about that?”

  Kris shrugged. “Just a little tidbit I picked up in some research.”

  “Research? What are you researching? And why?”

  “Oh, just learning a little more about the Battle of White Marsh. Or rather, what led up to it.”

  Eric laughed as they walked down the dirt path. “There was a war going on, and two armies faced off against each other, right in this very spot. That’s what led up to it.”

  “Do you have any idea if your ancestors fought in the war? Or played any part in it at all?”

  Eric frowned as he thought about it. Kristen had already thought he was cute: dark hair, blue eyes framed by dark lashes, great cheekbones. She felt that Jacob had been equally good-looking, although his hair had been lighter, more dirty-blond than anything.

  But she could see some of Jacob in Eric.

  In answer to her question, he said, “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of my ancestors fighting in the war. They may have, though. But they definitely owned the tavern at that time.”

  Brad turned to look at his classmate. “Even if they weren’t soldiers, that doesn’t mean they weren’t involved in the war,” he said. “I mean, think about it: what better way to serve your country than to operate a tavern, where people congregate and stop in as they travel from one place to another. It’d be a great way to gather information.”

  Eric stopped.

  “Wait,” he said, and the others stopped too. “Are you saying… are you implying that my great-great-however-many-greats-grandfather… could have been a spy?”

  “Not really a spy,” said Kristen. “Just—er, well—in the intelligence business. For our side, of course,” she added hastily.

  Eric looked from one sibling to the other.

  “Cool!” he said. “I could totally see that happening.”

  The three continued walking, but Kristen dropped back next to Brad.

  “Listen, when we get home later, think you could show me some of the info you got on Rebecca’s mom?”

  “Lydia Darragh? Sure, but there isn’t much. Her story is anecdotal and was never able to be completely verified.”

  “That’s okay; just whatever you were able to find.” She didn’t say it out loud, but Kristen knew that, if it was out there, Brad would have found it in his research, and anything he hadn’t found probably wasn’t worth knowing.

  “What are you going to do with the information?” he asked.

  “I thought I’d put it in my report for the community service requirement. It’s a great story, and we know it’s true, so maybe more people should know about it.” />
  “Y’know, I wonder…” Brad said.

  “What?”

  “I wonder if maybe there is something out there about Jacob’s family. You know, the tavern, the intelligence-gathering, and the role his family played in the war.”

  “I would think there’d have to be something… somewhere.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. I researched the whole thing pretty thoroughly—everything that led to the Battle of White Marsh. I think I would have noticed or remembered something that mentioned the name Tyson.”

  “Maybe it was never made public. Maybe it was kept in the family. Who knows, maybe Eric’s family has something about it—old letters or a journal or something.”

  “Could be.”

  “Or—” Kristen said as a thought struck her, “what about Major Clark? I bet there’s a record of him somewhere. I mean, he was a military man, after all.”

  “You’re right, I bet there is. Good thinking.” He put out his hand for a fist bump.

  “You know, it’s funny,” Kristen said. “Everybody thinks that where they live is so boring: nothing going on, nothing ever happens, that sort of thing. But even if you live in a small town, chances are there’s a lot more interesting stuff and history than you realize, and all you have to do is look for it.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s a lesson learned. And you know, that may have been the whole point of this… adventure. Otherwise, why us? Why were we sent—today, the day of a battle re-enactment—back to the exact point at which the scales were tipped in the favor of the Continentals?”

  When she raised her eyebrows, he continued. “You said it yourself to Jacob: if Rebecca hadn’t delivered her message, it would have been more of an attack than a battle, and the Americans would probably have lost. The heavy defeat, the oncoming winter, the soldiers not being paid… our army would have been demoralized, there would have been desertions by the dozen, and who knows what consequences there would have been.”

  “Instead, Washington was made aware of details of the attack, and kicked some redcoat butt.”

  “Right. Even small victories can have major repercussions. So the question remains: why us, and why today?”

  Kristen shrugged. “Maybe this story needs telling.”