Sam's World

by Ann Williams

  “How do you know all this?” Sammell asked in amazement.

  “We have developed a very thorough spy network over the years,” Gissel answered, stopping to look over her shoulder. “We know things that would surprise you even more than this.

  “Come.” She led the way into a huge high-ceilinged chamber and swept out both arms. “Look around you, see our preparations for this war you do not believe exists.”

  Before he would enter the cavern, Sammell propelled Marina behind him and stood facing Gissel. Though he’d been dissatisfied living in bondage under the present administration, he wasn’t certain that he wanted to be a part of an army. And he wasn’t sure he understood what Gissel and Darryn expected from him.

  “What is it you want from me?” he asked Gissel again.

  “We want you to join us. Help us fight our oppressors.”

  “I am not a soldier. I am a scientist.”

  “We, too, are scientists,” she replied. “We want you to work with us.”

  “And do what? I know nothing of fighting and making war.”

  “Your knowledge can help us,” Darryn said.

  Sammell turned to him. “Are you willing to kill for your beliefs?”

  “We will do whatever is necessary,” Darryn replied.

  “You want MDAT—that is what this is all about, is it not?”

  Gissel glanced at the silent Darryn.

  “Why?” Sammell asked them both. “Why do you want my time machine?”

  “To further our cause for freedom and peace,” Gissel answered.

  “Don’t speak to me of peace when you advocate killing,” Sammell said sourly. “Did you violate my privacy, break into my cell and try to break into the lab? Did you try to steal MDAT?”

  “No.” Gissel stood straight and tall before him, meeting his glance head-on. “We are freedom fighters—revolutionaries—not common thieves!”

  Sammell hesitated, studying her set jaw and proud face. “I need time to think, time to consider my position.”

  “Granted,” Gissel said. “Now, come, you must rest while you think.”

  Sammell reached behind him and felt Marina slip her cold fingers into his. They stepped into the cavern together.

  The cavern was enormous, the size of two football fields placed end to end. The walls were worn smooth by aeons of water flowing over the rock. Stalactites hung from the ceiling in intricate shapes in a variety of sizes.

  What must have once been a large river was now only a four-foot stream flowing from a fissure in the wall dividing the cavern in two. Equipment and belongings lined the walls on one side and makeshift beds lined the other. Scattered throughout the room were small campfires, their glow pushing against the darkness, adding smoke to air thick with the smell of damp earth.

  Marina stared at the empty campfires. A few had pots suspended over them with anonymous liquids bubbling over the edge and the air near them was redolent of cooking. Where were the people?

  “Come, I will show you to your quarters.” Gissel again took the lead.

  At the back of the cavern were a series of small chambers carved out of the rock. A cloth curtain hung across the opening of each one, affording the inhabitants a small measure of privacy.

  “The conditions here are primitive,” Gissel said without a hint of apology in her voice, “but we live without fear. Rest now and we will speak again later.”

  After she’d gone, Sammell stood in the center of the small area and stared at the furniture—a phosphorus lamp sitting on the floor in one corner, giving out an eerie green glow, a bed of rough wood and a matching chair. Taking a seat on the chair, he motioned for Marina to sit on the bed.

  “I am sorry,” he apologized.

  “For what?”

  “For this.” He spread his hands to their surroundings.

  “It’s all right. At least we haven’t been arrested.” She looked around the small room. “It’s even kind of cozy and I’m not afraid here.”

  “I am.”

  “You are?” Marina asked in surprise. “Of what?”

  “All this. I was not happy with my life and the life my people are forced to live, but I planned a peaceful solution. No one would have been hurt by my going into the past and preventing the development of the Wyndom drug. But this…” He shook his head. “This is insanity.”

  “Are you saying you aren’t going to join your friends in their fight?”

  “They are not my friends. I have been suspicious of Gissel and Darryn for the past several days—but I thought they worked for Bartell. I never imagined…” He shook his head again, the swatch of blond hair tumbling into his eyes.

  Marina leaned forward with her hands clasped tightly on her lap. “Sammell, they’re fighting for the same things you want—freedom, and the right to make your own choices. How can you not help them?”

  “I could not take a life. Nothing is worth the taking of another’s life.”

  Getting to his feet, he moved around the room, brushing at his hair with an impatient hand. “If events outside my control had not occurred,” he murmured to himself, “I would not be faced with such a terrible choice.”

  Marina knew she was one of those “events” and she felt guilty for causing him such mental anguish, but, still, there were some things a person had to be willing to fight for in this world—anyone’s world. And freedom was one of them.

  Noting her silence, Sammell faced her. “Would you fight?” he asked abruptly. “Would you take life for freedom?”

  “Your fri—Gissel said the fighting and killing has been going on for nearly four hundred years. The government is killing your people! How many do you suppose they’ve killed in the past hundred years? One a day? Ten a day? A hundred? How many thousands does that add up to? Can you let that go on without trying to do something to stop it?”

  “You would fight,” Sammell said flatly.

  “I would do what I had to do. Just like you will do what you have to do,” she answered. “From what I’ve seen and heard about your world, worldwide revolution seems unavoidable. Four hundred years is a long time to live under oppression—especially this kind of oppression.”

  “Yes,” Sammell answered vaguely. His mind was working on another problem, one that had remained fixed at the back of his mind since their earlier conversation with Gissel. If she and Darryn hadn’t broken into his cell, then it must have been Larkin.

  Did he know about this group? He’d made a comment about freedom fighters being in the hills outside the city. Had that been an attempt to trap Sammell into giving away his own feelings about the government? Or had he been baiting Sammell to find out what he knew about this organization?

  Now he knew who had taken MDAT’s mother board from his desk—Larkin. And that meant he had the matter-time-sequence chip. He might already have the power to travel back in time. The only thing he lacked was the correct formula for the plasma jet and he’d been perilously close to figuring that out—unless he’d been playing with Sammell by pretending he had only a part of it.

  Should he speak with Gissel and tell her about Larkin’s veiled comments? The people here might not be as safe as they thought. He was halfway to the door when the first pains struck.

  Grabbing his abdomen, he doubled over, catching hold of the chair with one hand to keep from falling to his knees.

  “Sam! What is it?” Marina jumped off the bed and rushed to his side. “Here, lean on me.” She supported him to the bed, helped him stretch out on his back and sat down beside him.

  “What is it?” she asked anxiously.

  “Pain,” he muttered through clenched teeth, folding his arms tightly across his middle.

  “Your stomach?”

  “Yes.” Sweat dotted his forehead and upper lip, and a pulse beat at his temple. He’d had little experience of pain and this pain was bad, but he didn’t want Marina to know how bad.

  “I’ll get Gissel—”

  “No!” He grabbed her arm and held her still. �
��Stay with me. I do not want or need Gissel. I will be all right—do not leave me.”

  “Yes,” Marina said, “I’ll stay, but don’t you think—”

  “No,” he said, cutting her off, panting with the effort at speech. “I do not want to think. I want you to…stay with me…please…”

  Marina stayed, and after a while he fell into a fitful doze. But every now and then he’d awaken with a cry on his lips and dig his fingers into the skin over his abdomen. Marina took his hands and held them tightly, whispering words of comfort to him. And he soon settled down into another doze.

  Time passed, and though she couldn’t know for certain, she guessed they must have been here for at least a couple of hours. And though he wouldn’t let her leave his side, had made her promise to stay, she prayed Gissel or Darryn would appear so they could see how sick he was and help him.

  His face looked flushed, and she tested the skin on his forehead with the back of one hand. Though it had been damp before with perspiration, now it felt hot and dry.

  Marina was growing more worried. What he needed was a doctor. She gave a half-smothered laugh that almost ended on a sob. Where did you look for a doctor in a subterranean chamber, among people who were never ill?

  Her worry turned to anger. How dared these people let themselves come to this. Hiding like rats in a cave! Why hadn’t they stood up to this Wyndom person long before now?

  If Sammell were to be believed, the man was nearly four hundred years old. How much fight could there be in a four-hundred-year-old man?

  Sammell groaned and moved restlessly in his sleep. Marina scooted out of the chair and took a seat on the bed beside him. She had to do something. She couldn’t just sit by and watch him in pain. He had a fever. She needed cool water and a cloth to bathe his forehead. At least she could get that. There was a river running practically outside their door.

  Outside the chamber she moved among the campfires searching for something to hold water. She didn’t waste time looking for Gissel, but couldn’t help hoping the woman would show up. She finally found a crudely shaped bowl carved from wood. A further search among the articles stacked along the wall revealed cloth.

  Dipping the bowl into the water, she hurried back to Sammell, spilling some as she ran. She halted in the doorway, a cry of alarm on her lips. In her absence he must have awakened and looked for her. He was lying facedown on the floor between the bed and chair.

  For a heart-stopping moment, she couldn’t move. And then she had to grasp hold of the bedpost to keep from falling herself, because she thought he was dead.

  He groaned, the world stopped spinning and she felt her heart kick into its normal rhythm. Setting the bowl of water on the chair, she kneeled beside Sammell and put her arms beneath his shoulders. He didn’t look it, but he was very heavy. It took all her strength to move him, but she managed to lift him from a sitting position to his knees and finally onto the bed.

  There her strength deserted her and she fell down beside him on the blankets out of breath. What would her friends think of her now, if they could see her?

  What would she tell them when she returned to her own world? There was no question about it. She could never tell them the truth. Time travel? She hadn’t believed it herself until she’d been shown irrefutable proof.

  Sammell turned, threw a leg over one of hers and flopped an arm across her waist, his hand cupping one breast. Marina caught her breath and started to move away. It would be an embarrassing position to be found in, should Gissel or Darryn come to the door. Still she hesitated. It seemed to comfort Sammell to be close to her. And that was more important than what two strangers might think of her, so Marina lay still beneath his hand, listening to him breathe, feeling her nipple grow taut against his warm palm.

  Settling herself more comfortably against him, she let her mind drift. If he were not ill…if they were not running from the police…if his world was not in a state of war…this could be paradise….

  When she awoke, it was to find Sammell’s hot face pressed to the side of her neck. He was burning with fever.

  Disengaging herself, Marina climbed carefully from the bed and picked up the water and cloth from the chair. This was all she had to help him, and it was precious little. He needed more. She would not let him die!

  She bathed his face and neck repeatedly, then decided it would help more if she could bathe his chest and back. Rolling him onto his side, she managed to pull the clothing off his shoulders and down to his waist. With soft gentle strokes she smoothed the cloth over his face and chest until his skin began to feel cooler.

  Just when she was beginning to relax a little, he began to shiver with chills. Marina removed his boots and lifted his feet beneath the blanket, drawing it up to his chin. And then she just sat in the chair and watched him, memorizing his face.

  His features were so symmetrical that any more delicacy would have made him too beautiful for a man. He was saved from that by the square jaw, slight dent in his chin and a firm mouth.

  Pain had carved merciless lines on his face, and the shadow of his beard gave him a manly aura that until now had only been hinted at because of his unisex style of dress. Moisture clung to the damp blond hair lying over his forehead, turning the ends dark. Marina brushed them back from his forehead with a gentle hand. He looked so pale and defenseless. But she remembered the glint in his eyes a few days ago when he’d pleaded with her to trust him.

  A few days ago…that’s all it had been since she’d awakened to find herself his prisoner. Prisoner…she was still his prisoner, but in ways he couldn’t begin to imagine.

  Sammell stirred and opened his eyes. She smiled and he tried to return it but bit his lips against the pain. A spot of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth, and she closed her eyes, wishing she could do something more to help him.

  His face grew paler and his body shook with chills. Marina put a hand to his forehead and felt the clammy skin.

  “Sam? Can you hear me?” she asked softly. “I’m going for Gissel. She may have something to help you.”

  “N-no.” His hand tightened on hers. “I need nothing but you.”

  Once again he fell into a fitful doze and for a little while she thought he was getting better. But then a spasm of pain hit him and he moaned, turning onto his side and drawing his knees to his chest.

  Marina couldn’t stand it any longer. Easing her hand from his, she moved to the door, pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the main cavern.

  Almost immediately she spotted Gissel on the far side of the cavern. “Please…” Marina called, motioning for her to come closer. “You must help Sam—he’s in terrible pain.”

  Gissel strode across the cavern, her feet making hollow sounds on the rock floor. She dodged around Marina without waiting for further explanation and hastened into the room. Taking a quick look at Sammell’s contorted body, she asked, “Has he eaten anything?”

  “W-what?” The question came so unexpectedly that Marina needed a moment to assimilate it.

  “Has he eaten anything?” Gissel asked again, turning to face the other woman, impatience in the dark eyes.

  “Part of an apple—he ate part of an apple—earlier, when we were…up there.” She pointed toward the ceiling.

  Gissel nodded as if that was what she had expected to hear. “I will return shortly.”

  Marina took her seat at the side of the bed and began to sponge Sammell off again. His eyelids twitched, but other than that he gave no sign that he knew she was there.

  Guilt engulfed her. This was her fault. She’d offered him the apple. What if the fruit had somehow poisoned him? She knew nothing about how his digestive system worked. She shouldn’t have tempted him. Tears burned her eyes.

  Oh, God, what if he died? The thought struck terror to her heart, and not because she was afraid she wouldn’t get back to her own time. She didn’t want anything to happen to him because…she was falling in love with him.

  It should have come as
a shock for her to realize that her feelings for him had grown so strong in such a short time. But it had happened so gradually.

  As she smoothed the damp hair back from his forehead, a tear spilled onto her cheek and her lips moved in a silent prayer. Her heart wrenched at the sight of the dark circles beneath his eyes and the line of white around his pale lips.

  What if it wasn’t the apple? What if she had brought a virus with her from the past—something they were not immune to in this century? That’s how the settlers had annihilated many Indian tribes in the 1800s.

  And that made her remember that before long she would be leaving. The thing she’d wanted most in life lay before her—but he could never be hers. The old adage about coming from different worlds had never been more true.

  They came from different worlds, but she was beginning to think she’d be glad to give up her place in her world if she could be assured a place in Sammell’s. It would mean leaving her family behind forever and never seeing any of her friends again…. But they had all found their places in life.

  Marina was still searching for hers. She’d always felt as though she was never quite in step with the rest of the world. She’d wanted a husband, home and family, the kind of life her parents had found together.

  But society’s values had changed a great deal since her parents had first married. The men she dated weren’t interested in a family. And if one stuck around long enough to discover that she wanted one, she got a lecture on how men were no longer looking for a “little woman.”

  The men of today wanted a woman with a high-powered career. One who could help provide those European vacations, expensive sports cars and membership fees to elite social clubs. Life was meant to be enjoyed in between making corporate decisions and social statements. And if the marriage didn’t work, divorce was the next step.

  There was nothing wrong with that way of life—if that’s what you wanted. Marina didn’t. She wanted a man with whom to share the rest of her life. She wanted a lifetime commitment and everything that went with it, including children. She’d always hoped that somewhere there was a man wanting the same thing and someday their paths would cross.