The world around him finally came into focus. Battered trash bins and discarded wooden crates lay like victims of a firing squad against a brick wall. What the hell was he doing here? Or was this another vivid dream strangling him with realism?
The last thing he could remember was sitting in his living room. He’d been going through his grandfather’s things. Days haunted with sleepless nights blurred his memories. Decomposing fragments slowly came back to him. He’d settled in for a night of warm whiskey and cold memories, but someone else was there.
Elizabeth! The aching pain of his dreams, the loss and desperation rifled through his senses in rapid fire succession. He pushed himself to his feet and stood on shaky legs. His mind refused to clear, except for one thought—he needed to find Elizabeth. Frantically, he scanned the alley, dreading what he might find. She was only a few feet away, lying face down in the shadows. His heart raced faster in his chest as he stumbled to her side.
She wasn’t moving. This had to be a dream. Please let this be a dream.
“Miss West,” he said insistently.
Nothing.
He steeled himself for the worst. Perhaps this was a nightmare after all. His hands trembled as he gripped her shoulder and cradled her head in his hand. Carefully, he rolled her on to her back. Her face was pale, as if all the blood had been leeched away. Her body was limp in his hands. An unerring sense of déjà vu overwhelmed him.
“Elizabeth.”
She moaned and rolled her head to the side.
“Thank God,” he whispered and without thinking, stroked her cheek. Emotions whirlpooled inside him. With shuddering breath, he wrestled for control and finally won.
Her eyes opened and struggled to focus.
“Are you all right?” he asked, clenching his fist to keep from caressing her.
She brought a shaky hand to her forehead and groaned. “Professor?”
He scanned her for injuries. Her pupils were reacting to the light. That was a good sign. And she seemed to be coming around. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay, I think. Except for one hell of a headache,” she said as he helped her to sit up.
“It’ll pass soon,” he said, knowing it was a lie. He felt worse than before. His own head pounded. He wasn’t one to offer false comforts and did his best to ignore the fact that he’d done just that.
She glanced at their bizarre surroundings and shook her head, trying to clear it. “What the heck was in that wine?”
“Can you stand?”
She nodded and took the hand he offered. He watched her carefully. She swayed a bit and he reached out to steady her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
She wobbled and gripped his forearm.
Tightening his hold, he put an arm around her back to support her. “Miss West?”
“Fine. Sorry, I was...” she said as she looked up into his face. Her pale skin flushed pink. “I’m all right.”
Slowly, more reluctantly than he wanted to admit, he moved his arm from her back. He wasn’t quite ready to let go completely, so he held her arm tightly in his grasp.
“Take your time.”
She smiled and nodded. “I’m okay,” she said and then seemed to notice where they were for the first time. “I think. Where are we?”
“I’m not sure,” he said as he glanced around the alley.
“This is definitely not your living room.”
Simon laughed softly. “It’s good to see your powers of observation are still intact.”
She gave him a wry smile, but it faded. “This isn’t even Southern California. At least no part I’ve ever seen.”
She was right. The architecture, what he could see of it, was completely wrong. Not to mention the smell of coal thick in the air. A shrill, odd-sounding car horn blared around the alley’s corner. And like a lemming to the ocean, Elizabeth started toward the mouth of the alley.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Simon asked.
“Just having a look around. We’re not going to figure out where we are standing in this alley.”
He didn’t know what bothered him more. That she was so willing to wander off into God knows what, or that she was right.
“Hang about,” he said and hurried to catch up.
He grabbed her arm again, and she rolled her eyes. Petulant he could deal with. Out of his sight, he couldn’t.
Staying close to the building’s edge, she peered around the corner. After a long steady silence she croaked out a tremulous, “Oh, boy.”
He looked around the edge of the building.
“Tell me that isn’t a...” Elizabeth said. “I must be hallucinating. Tell me you don’t see what I see.”
“A Model T?”
And not just one. A mass of tall, long, rectangular shaped cars trundled past. Simon took an unsteady step backwards. Where in God’s name were they?
“I was really hoping for hallucinating.”
The cacophony was nearly deafening. High-pitched horns wailed up and down the endless street. A horse whinnied and reared, its hooves scraping the pavement. A sea of people, all talking at once, surged on the sidewalk in front of them. Men in suits and fedoras, women in vintage dresses walked by. A large horse-drawn cart clattered over the pavement.
“They must be making a movie,” Elizabeth said hopefully.
Simon had a terrible sinking feeling. He tugged on her arm and she looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes.
“Miss West,” he said, urging her to follow his lead and pulled her back into the alley. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
She rubbed her forehead. “Being in your living room looking at your grandfather’s things and then the watch went all higgledy-piggledy.”
Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Of course, the watch. In his single-minded concern for Elizabeth, he’d completely forgotten about it. He moved back down the alley and scoured the pavement until he found the timepiece only a few feet from where he’d regained consciousness. Gripping the case tightly, he carefully opened it. His eyes darted over the complex dials. This couldn’t be.
Elizabeth came to his side. “Be careful with that thing.”
“I’m not an imbecile, Miss West,” he bit out.
“No offense, but I’m not looking for a repeat performance.”
Neither was he. He knew the answer to all his questions lay in the watch. The strange dials that had been a mystery before, now began to coalesce into a semblance of reason. If one could call it that. Simon’s head was spinning and not just from the damnable headache that wouldn’t go away. It was insane. Absolutely insane to even consider, and yet....
Was it possible that all the stories his grandfather had told him weren’t stories at all? The destruction of Pompeii, a night at Valley Forge, the War of the Roses. Dear God. He’d actually been there.
Elizabeth leaned in to get a better look at the watch, her body brushing against his. “What the heck’s going on, Professor?”
How could he expect her to believe what he could hardly comprehend himself?
Her hand gripped his arm, and she forced him to look at her. Her blue eyes, usually filled with confidence, danced nervously across his face. “Where are we?”
He tried to quell his growing sense of panic and keep his voice calm and detached. “It’s not so much where we are, but when. Judging from the cars and style of dress, we appear to be in the late twenties.”
“Twenties? As in Nineteen Twenties? You can’t be serious.”
“Perhaps early thirties, I’ll need to check.” Research—the haven for a logical mind. Simon always sought refuge in detail, in the search for answers. His entire career had been built on the foundation that anything could be proven, no matter how incredible it sounded, if the right research was performed.
“Check what?” Elizabeth asked. “I think you’d better tell me what the hell’s going on.”
Simon held out the watch and stared down at the complicated dials. “If I’m reading thi
s properly, I’d say it’s 1929. July Seventeenth, to be exact.”
Elizabeth let go of his arm and stepped back. The color drained from her face, and her voice trembled. “That’s impossible.”
A fresh wave of guilt washed over Simon. He couldn’t afford to give in to it. “It seems that my grandfather was more than merely eccentric.”
Elizabeth stared at him, her expression blank. “Are you saying that thing’s some sort of time machine?”
“Apparently.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
She put her fists on her hips and looked at him accusingly. “You’re awfully calm about this.”
He was anything but calm. Still, he knew they had to keep a clear head if they were going to find a way out of this mess. “Would you prefer I panic?”
“A little, yeah. I mean—Hello! Time travel. Not an everyday thing,” she said, a frown coming to her face. “Unless, you’ve done this before.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t want to be absurd standing in an alley in Nineteen Twenty-Nine.”
Simon took a deep calming breath. “I assure you, if I had any idea what this watch was capable of...”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said, wringing her hands. “It’s like some bizarre episode of Star Trek. Where’s Spock when you need him?”
“I don’t see what Dr. Spock had to do with—”
“Mister Spock. Oh, never mind.” She took a deep breath. “Okay. The watch got us here, right? So, it can take us back.”
“Logical.”
She giggled, but quickly subdued it under the heat of his glare. “Sorry. Must be time travel jitters. So, undo it. Put it in reverse or whatever.”
“I don’t think we should stumble ahead blindly.”
“Worked getting us here.”
Simon blanched at the remark. Whatever had happened to them was his fault. He could bear that, if there were a way to undo it.
“I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
“No, you’re quite right, Miss West,” Simon said. The weight of their situation truly dawning on him. If he’d been alone he could have faced it without pause. But now, for the first time in his life, he was responsible for someone else. “The situation is entirely my fault.”
Elizabeth tentatively put a hand on his arm. “Who knew your granddad was a time traveler? And I can’t believe I actually said that.”
Simon felt the unaccustomed need to comfort welling inside him again. Compassion had never been a strong suit of his. If anything, the opposite was true. “You do know that I would never knowingly endanger you.”
“I know that. I... You think I’m in... I mean, we’re in danger?”
“We’re in an unknown situation. I’d prefer to err on the side of caution.”
“Agreed. Let’s err there.”
Simon couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen. It was more than the lingering memories of his dream. More than the situation they’d been thrust into. He’d never given much credence to hunches, but he had a sense he’d started something in motion bringing them here. Something he wouldn’t be able to control. Something inevitable.
“Not that it isn’t unique, being here, wherever it is,” Elizabeth said. “But maybe we should try to get back home?”
“Agreed.”
“We’ll just re-create everything,” she continued. “You were holding the watch. Did you do anything to it? Push any buttons?”
“The stem did extend, but...”
“Okay. Just do exactly what you did before.”
“I’m not sure that’s wise. I’d much rather be sure of what I’m doing before I make another mistake.”
“It’s worth—”
A thick metal door swung open with a loud clang. Elizabeth jumped at the sound and grabbed Simon’s arm. A large, burly, unshaven man stepped into the alley. His white undershirt was stained a sickly yellow with sweat. “What you doin’ here?”
Simon put his hand over Elizabeth’s and pulled her slightly behind him. He turned to glare at the man. “We were simply—”
“Do it someplace else,” the man growled with a thick Brooklyn accent, as he threw his bucket of empty bottles into a nearby trash bin. “Go on, get out of here!”
Simon ignored the man and started to turn back to Elizabeth.
“You want I should call the cops?” the man said with a sneer, as he looked Elizabeth up and down. She was wearing a tight, blue T-shirt and jeans, but his eyes traveled her figure as if she were naked. Her clothes were far too form-fitting for the period to be anything other than something a tramp would wear. “Take your quiff and get a room.”
Simon’s body tensed. He slowly pulled out of her grasp and took a long direct stride toward the man. “I beg your pardon?”
The big man only smiled. “You heard me.”
Simon started forward again, but Elizabeth pulled on his arm.
“We can’t afford to see the police,” she whispered. “Let’s just go.”
Simon’s eyes flared, and he turned back to the big man. Long dormant emotions boiled to the fore. His instinct to defend Elizabeth crashed into his common sense. He’d known more than his fair share of bullies, and most could be cowed with a biting remark. But this was something different. He’d never felt such an overwhelming desire to punch someone in the mouth.
“Professor,” Elizabeth urged and tugged on his arm.
Simon gave the man a long, steely glare before he turned back to Elizabeth. Without another word, he took her by the arm and led her out of the alley.
“Good idea, Professor,” the man snarled.
They were half way down the block before Simon released her. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry.”
Elizabeth grinned. “You’d better stop apologizing. Might be habit forming.”
Simon couldn’t help but smile back. Why couldn’t he have smiled like that back home? Had to be here, she thought, and looked around at the busy street. Wherever here is. Elizabeth self-consciously wrapped her arms across her chest and looked down the street.
The cars were huge, and there were so many of them. Big black sedans, with cloth-canopied tops and headlamps sticking out like bug eyes meandered along the street creating some semblance of lanes. The foot traffic surged around them, and Elizabeth suddenly felt terribly underdressed. Some men wore knickers and bow ties, or Oxford bag pants that ballooned as they walked past. Every one of them wore a hat. Fedoras and bowlers. And the women too. They all had on hats. Tight-fitting cloches or veiled peekaboos. And dresses.
A couple glared at her, whispering disapproval as they noticed her pants. Not one woman wore slacks, only dresses and skirts. Some wore their hose turned-down in a risqué fashion statement, but clearly wearing blue jeans was not something a lady did.
Hundreds of cars and thousands of people teemed around them in a dizzying rush. More and more passersby gave them odd, disapproving looks.
A young boy with a ragged, woolen cap strode past them. “Paper! Get your paper here!”
Simon startled her as he called out. “Boy!”
The young man came over to them and held out a paper. Simon reached into his pockets then realized he didn’t have any change. And even if he did, she realized, they couldn’t start spreading twenty-first century money into the past.
“Sorry, I don’t,” Simon showed the boy his empty palm.
The newsboy sighed, but then seemed to notice Elizabeth for the first time. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Ain’t you the stuff?”
Simon stepped closer to Elizabeth and narrowed his eyes. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and took the opportunity to get a glance at the paper.
“Just lookin’,” the kid said quickly and started back down the street.
Elizabeth leaned in and whispered in Simon’s ear. “You were right. July 17, 1929. And the Yankees lost again.”
Simon raised his
eyebrow in question.
“Read the headline.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, but then cleared his throat and looked away.
Her stomach fluttered at the compliment, not to mention how adorable he was when he was flustered. “And we know that you can read the watch.”
“True,” he said, pulling her closer as the crowd surged across the intersection. He led her to an empty doorway away from the mass of people. “But, I’m afraid, reading and manipulating are far different things.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
Simon didn’t seem so sure. Elizabeth’s eyes darted down the busy street. They’d actually time traveled back to 1920’s New York. It was absurd, but she felt a growing sense of excitement. Even if they were only there for a day. What an adventure!
She looked back at Simon. His eyes were dark with concern and uncertainty. He looked down at the watch and put it in his pocket. “This may take some time,” he said.
The doubt in his voice sent a shiver up her spine. He’d never been anything but certain, and to see him off-balance was incredibly disconcerting. But why should it all be on his shoulders? She wanted to allay his fears, but recognizing he had them would be an insult. Better to lighten the mood. If anyone was ever in need of a little cheering up, it was Simon. “If my boss doesn’t mind that I’m late,” she said. “Then I’m game.”
His lips quirked into a smile. “You will be docked pay, of course.”
Elizabeth laughed, but it didn’t last long. They couldn’t exactly stand around on the street while he figured out the watch. There was no telling how long that might take and the sun was already dipping behind the buildings.
“Speaking of pay,” she said. “We should find someplace to stay the night. Just in case.”
“Yes. I’d prefer not to stay on the streets. I doubt New York has changed that much in the last seventy years.”
“Right. Wow. Seventy years. I’m still having a little trouble believing that.”
“It is... difficult.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Well, looks like the hand we were dealt anyway. So, we need a place to stay, but that’s going to cost money.”
Out of Time Series Omnibus (Out of Time: A Paranormal Romance & When the Walls Fell) Page 3
