Time Shards

by Dana Fredsti

  “Don’t you have police regulations forbidding that sort of thing?” he responded. “Chatting up bad boys? Or… could it be… that you’re a bad girl?”

  She refused to answer him. Instead, she stretched down, pretending to straighten out her stockings one last time, but in reality showing off her legs to good advantage. She tilted her head and gave him the barest hint of a smile.

  “Do shut up and come over here, will you?”

  Simon didn’t have to be told twice. He grinned and strode over to her with a jaunty little walk, hands in his pockets.

  “What did you have in mind?” he asked.

  “Something like this.”

  She put her hands on his shoulders, and slowly ran them down his arms. He looked down at her chest.

  “You have a pair of absolutely smashing breasts.”

  “Do you want to touch them?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  “Go on, then.”

  He smiled as she took him by the wrists and lifted his hands. But then she seized his left hand in a wristlock, reached behind her back with her right, and expertly cuffed his right wrist.

  “Hey now, easy!”

  “Come with me, if you please,” she said crisply, pulling him over to the closest of the tall asparagus-looking trees and handcuffing him to it.

  35

  “Sweet Jesus, you are a right kinky bird, Constable!” Simon said, and he laughed. Alex turned and faced him, all business.

  “Not at all, actually.”

  His laugh died away as he saw the resolve in her eyes.

  “What are you doing?” he asked flatly, as if he already suspected the answer.

  “Does the name Pippa McDermott ring any bells?”

  He frowned.

  “What about Veronica Cordingly?”

  “Are these meant to be old girlfriends of mine? Never heard of ‘em.” His eyes flashed with their usual defiance, but his voice betrayed a growing unease.

  “Oh, you will. Or would have, I suppose—but you’ve already started, haven’t you?”

  “Already started what?” he answered, a little too quickly and a little too sharply. Alex continued.

  “I suppose you don’t recall Chloe Wenham either.”

  He closed his mouth tight and said nothing, his face as impassive as a chunk of concrete—but not before she’d caught the telltale look of surprise in his eyes.

  “Oh, you do remember her, I see.” A look of triumph flickered across her features. “Yes, I expect you’d remember one of your first. You stalked her for months beforehand, didn’t you?” She peered at him intently.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking a—” His protest was cut off when she pulled out the short length of cord from her bag and gagged him with it. He boiled with muffled outrage and pulled at the handcuffs, his eyes furious, but she ignored him.

  “I don’t want to hear any more of your blather, Simon. I just want you to listen to me, understand what I’m doing, and why.” She cocked her head to one side and studied him. “I didn’t recognize you at first, you see. Not surprising, really. The first time I ever saw your picture, you were an old bastard. But when you rattled off your whole name for us this morning, that rang a bell—and I finally placed where I know you.”

  He stopped his thrashing.

  “You’re Simon William Broad,” she continued. “You were busy in the late fifties and early sixties, all throughout East London and Essex. The papers called you the ‘Simon Says’ killer—daft name, that. You killed almost a dozen young women—just like Amber, Nellie and me. Did you ever use this knife for the job?”

  She pulled out his flick-knife, and held it up to his face before releasing its blade with a touch of the button. Simon’s brows rose at the sight, and he shook his head, trying to plead with her through the gag.

  “I’m an officer of the law, Simon,” she said, staring into his eyes. “I’m not a vigilante, and I’m not a murderer like you. Maybe I’m wrong about the timing and you haven’t even killed anyone yet, but here’s the problem. There’s no jurisprudence anymore. There’s nothing in place to rein in people who go wrong, and I can’t just let you go. It’s not fair, but neither is being a serial killer.” She heaved a small sigh, then continued. “Sorry, Simon, but that’s why I have to kill you. Maybe it’s just to clear my own conscience, but I needed you to know why first.”

  He furiously rattled the tree trunk, trying frantically to uproot it or pull it down, but it wasn’t going anywhere. Alex coolly watched his struggles, until at last he gave up and stood there, trying to breathe, staring at her with an unreadable expression.

  “Simon, I can make it quick and easy for you, but only if you cooperate with me.” Her voice was unnervingly calm. “I know it’s not much, but I’d bet that’s a damn sight better deal than you offered any of your victims. Now why don’t you get down on your knees for me.”

  He swallowed hard, still staring at her. Then, without a sound, he sunk down onto the damp ground and lowered his head.

  It was Alex’s turn to hesitate. She took a deep breath. Part of her had been steeling herself for this since they’d escaped from the witch hunter and his soldiers, but now that it came right down to it, she fought to steady her nerves.

  She wasn’t a killer. The man in front of her was. Not just a cold-blooded murderer, but one who enjoyed torturing his victims—doing so for days before putting them out of their torment. That brute fact was the only thing that gave her the strength to carry her plan through to the end. She tightened her grip on the blade and rapidly considered her options. A good, steady penetration just above the left collarbone, she decided.

  Then Simon raised his head again, a new look of terror in his eyes. Looking over her shoulder he pulled away as much as he could, his eyes wide with fear, screams muffled by the rope. Alex furrowed her brow.

  “Don’t be pathetic, Simon. It won’t work.”

  She caught just a flash of movement in her peripheral vision and wheeled around to see the thing swiftly emerging from the water—a giant aquatic scorpion, as big as a couch. Its massive armored claw arms bristled with spines like racks of elk antlers. Its huge head boasted a horrible maw, with an inner pair of clawed mouthparts as long as her forearms. It clamored and chittered hungrily for her, a sickening sound.

  “Shit!”

  The thing grabbed for Alex and she threw herself sideways to avoid its sweeping grasp. Her desperate dive sent her crashing painfully to the ground and she landed hard on her shoulder, rolling over with a sharp groan of pain. The switchblade went pinwheeling out of her hand and disappeared from sight. In an instant the scorpion scuttled up and was on her, hissing and chittering. She looked up and screamed as the massive spiny side limbs grasped her.

  Trapped face-up and on her back, she began kicking and scrambling, fighting to back away as fast as she could. Stuck on her elbows she couldn’t outrun it, and its short outer arms quickly pulled her in. Lashing out frantically with her legs, she could only barely keep clear of the ravenous maw.

  One inner claw clamped down on her ankle, drawing blood and another scream from her. With a desperate kick, then another, she stomped away at the thing’s twitching mouthparts until it released her. With her legs pulled free, she twisted around to her knees and half-crawled, half-fought, trying to break through the grasp of its side arms.

  A stabbing pain in her back made her scream again.

  The scorpion had stuck her with the spike of its tail.

  * * *

  Simon’s panic at seeing the gigantic monster emerge from the water hadn’t gone away, but at least it was focused on chasing down Alex, thus ignoring him. He grabbed the trunk of the prehistoric tree and pulled at it as hard as he could, using his whole body to try and either uproot it or pull it down.

  No use. The tree wasn’t budging.

  Alex struggled to break free, but the monster’s spiky front arms still had her ensnared. She twisted and squirmed to avoid its stinger, thoug
h the primitive scorpion lashed at her repeatedly. If the thing was venomous she’d be dead soon anyway, but she kept fighting. Finally, with a lucky twist, she squeezed out of its grasp, though not without taking another sting on the arm.

  The gag was making it hard for Simon to breathe. He leaned against the trunk, trying to take in more air through his flaring nostrils. Alex screamed again, startling him back into action. He reached up with his handcuffed wrists and pulled himself up the trunk. He dug in with his feet and reached up again, lifting himself a little higher.

  And then a little higher.

  And then a little higher.

  * * *

  Alex came up on her feet and reached for her truncheon, but it had come out of its sheath at some point during the struggle. She grabbed the nearest weapon she could see—a long, jagged branch of something like bamboo. With a grunt, she broke it off and had just enough time to turn and raise it before the thing was on her again. She brought it down with all her strength, stabbing between the scorpion’s huge compound eyes.

  Her makeshift spear shattered on the carapace. She swore loudly and leapt forward, rolling over the scorpion’s body and past its flailing, stinging tail.

  Coming out of her roll she scrambled to her feet again. The hulking creature began twisting its body to circle back on her. With the water behind her, she backed away as much as she could, scanning left and right for the fallen switchblade. It was nowhere in sight. She cut to the left, to the trunk of the nearest asparagus-tree.

  The scorpion charged her again, scuttling to cut off her escape. Alex backed up further, trying to keep trunks between her and the giant hissing, chittering creature, but she quickly realized she was only trapping herself in the dense foliage. The scorpion seemed to realize it, too. Its arms tore away at the greenery, and it was becoming harder for her to back away from the frenzied attack.

  Then there was no more give behind her at all.

  The vegetation was too dense for her to move any further. The scorpion’s front arms clamped down on one of the stalks she was trying to squeeze past, snapping it in two. She kept her grip on the cut piece, and jabbed her new weapon deep into the scorpion’s clattering crab mouth.

  Lunging, the creature only succeeded in impaling itself further, and let out a hideous shrieking sound as its own momentum drove the stake deep into its primitive brain. The segmented legs flailed and stamped, its arms and tail extended out and up at bizarre angles, and then the thing simply came to a stop.

  Alex slumped in relief and lay there a minute, crushed up against the stand of tree trunks. She tried to breathe, her heart racing a mile a minute. Her shoulder blade hurt like hell. She cupped her elbow for a closer look at the sting on her upper arm. The bleeding—and the pain—were considerable, but she had seen worse. Her real fear was poison, but with every breath she felt more confident that this primeval scorpion hadn’t yet evolved the venom that its smaller descendants would possess in a few hundred million years.

  You’ll be fine, she assured herself. Now get up.

  She managed to extricate herself from her cage of tree trunks and insect limbs. As she painfully pulled herself up and over the dead creature’s armored carcass, a new thought suddenly occurred.

  Where’s Simon?

  Her answer came instantly when he dropped down on top of her. The shock of the impact hit her like a truck. She screamed and tumbled off the scorpion’s back, falling to the ground, her back and upper arm on fire. Simon tumbled, too, but he swiftly rolled with it and came up from behind while Alex tried to stagger to her feet. Without hesitation, he flung his handcuffed arms around her throat, and pulled tight.

  She clutched at the chain links and fought to stand. Simon drove his knee into the small of her back, increasing the pressure on her windpipe, bending her spine and pulling her off balance. She strained to stay upright, then suddenly slammed the point of her elbow sharply into his ribs. He gasped and buckled. Taking advantage of his weakness, she lifted both her knees up into the air and brought them down again, flipping him over her head.

  He thudded flat on the ground, winded. She gasped for air until he started to sit up. She snap-kicked him in the head, sending him sprawling. He yelped in pain and tried to get to his feet. She ran forward and followed up with a high kick to his face that knocked him into the fern.

  As she rushed to finish him, a sudden spasm of pain jolted through her body, emanating from her back and arm. Her heart beat far too fast, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. She stumbled and extended her other arm to catch herself. Both her vision and her balance grew shaky and wobbly.

  Shit. Guess the bloody thing was poisonous after all…

  The world started spinning, then all she could make out was Simon rising up again. Coming toward her. With his flick-knife in hand.

  * * *

  Simon wiped his knife on Alex’s blouse before standing, retracting the blade into the handle, and pocketing it. He smiled down at her corpse.

  “You really do have lovely breasts, Constable.” He briefly considered unbuttoning her blouse to take a look at them, but quickly discarded the notion. No time to play. He needed to get back to the rest of his group.

  Besides, he’d never found his toys particularly interesting once they’d lost the ability to beg.

  He hoped to have more quality time with Amber.

  36

  When they’d gathered enough wood to start building a fire, Amber went back to the clearing with their first armful. In the meantime, Cam continued looking, all the while keeping an eye out for danger and for food. Both habits were second nature to him. Their meager stock wouldn’t last long but fortunately, foraging was something he did very well.

  He felt very protective of his new companions.

  Spying a cluster of mushroom caps growing amid the roots of a large hornbeam, he knelt to inspect them. They weren’t any kind he recognized, so he reluctantly left them where they were. He’d seen how quickly the wrong kind of mushroom could kill a man. Cam considered offering them to Simon. The thought made him smile. If the man ate them with no ill effects, no harm done.

  And if they proved fatal?

  Well, at least he would’ve done something useful for the group.

  Cam left that happy notion behind, along with the mushrooms. He wouldn’t do it, of course. True, he didn’t like or trust Simon, but the man hadn’t done anything to warrant such treatment. Besides, poison was the weapon of cowards and Romans. If he ever killed Simon, it would be face to face.

  A crackling of branches caught his attention. Instinctively, he slipped behind a tree until he could see who—or what—was making the noise. A figure stepped into view. Cam peered cautiously through his screen of leafy branches. His eyes narrowed.

  Simon.

  Cam had no great wish to greet the annoying man at the best of times, so he decided to remain out of sight. Simon strolled casually with a little smile on his face, that of a man without a care in the world. Cam looked behind him for the woman, Alex, frowning when he didn’t see or hear her. What possible reason could she have for staying behind?

  As Simon drew closer, Cam noticed worrisome signs. The man sported a bloody gash on the side of his forehead. His clothing was torn and encrusted with mud, along with other, darker stains that spoke of something more sinister. Yet he didn’t wear the look of a person who had run into trouble. If anything, he looked pleased with himself.

  Cam also noted that he didn’t have any water. Hadn’t they left with a bucket? Was Alex following behind, carrying it? He shook his head, watching Simon saunter by. Why had he saddled her with all the work? Why had he left her unescorted in the woods? He had no doubts about Alex’s courage or strength, but what kind of man would ramble off and leave a woman behind to fend for herself?

  His dislike continued to grow.

  Cam waited a few minutes to give Simon time to go past him and out of sight again, staying concealed while he kept an eye on the woods to see if Alex would appear. When
she didn’t, he quickly headed back to the clearing.

  * * *

  Back in the clearing, Amber stacked the bundle of firewood she’d gathered. Sweat dripped between her breasts and trickled down her back, and her shift was damp under the corset.

  Oh, for a hot shower, she thought.

  She shed the buff coat, but left the breeches and boots on for the time being, along with the Han Solo jacket. The soldier’s boots fit her well and were surprisingly comfortable, the leather supple and well worn.

  Guess people really were smaller, back in the day.

  “That’s a nice look,” Nellie said, grinning at Amber’s new outfit. She’d changed out of her stolen uniform, too, so that she was in her original garb—a dark blue two-piece traveling dress made of broadcloth and camel-hair trim. Over that, she wore a Scotch ulster overcoat and a jaunty matching ghillie cap, both of black-and-white plaid.

  “So glad to be back in my real clothes!” she sighed.

  “Where did those come from?” Amber asked in amazement, admiring all the vintage wear.

  “This was the bundle I brought when I came to rescue you. I couldn’t bear the thought of being stuck in those horrid peasant clothes a minute longer!”

  “You know, that cap makes you look like Sherlock Holmes.”

  Nellie laughed. “What? Cheeky girl! I’ll have you know, this is the height of fashion. At least it was a few days ago. Does no one wear hats in the future?”

  Amber gave her a tired smile, and sat down to wait for Cam to return. She felt a little guilty that he was still foraging without her help, but mostly grateful for the chance to catch her breath and rest for a bit.

  Still, she couldn’t help but worry about their pursuers. The risks increased with every moment they stayed in one place. She wasn’t sure how far away they’d have to travel to shake off the fanatical Roundheads, but she doubted they’d gone far enough yet.

  The day’s events played over again in her mind’s eye. Nearly tortured. Nearly raped. Nearly burned at the stake. Any one of those “nearlys” could have turned out so much worse, but that didn’t help her relax. She wasn’t sure she’d ever relax again.