Veil of Time: A Paranormal-ESP Thriller (The Wizards Series Book 4)

by Jack L Knapp

  Ray walked around the animal, giving it a wide berth. A rough boardwalk lay at the entrance to the saloon. A canvas closure hung by the door; perhaps that was enough to secure the entrance. Was this some sort of movie set?

  He walked inside and stopped. The room was dark and smelled of unwashed bodies, with an overlay of tobacco and something else, perhaps alcohol. No movie set this; no director would be so realistic. Costs would be too high.

  In moments his eyes adjusted and he saw a long bench-like surface of planks, stacked atop the ends of two wooden barrels. The man behind this makeshift bar wore a dirty white shirt, collarless and open at the neck. Leather thongs were tied garter-like around the sleeves just above his biceps.

  “We got whiskey. No beer, that ran out two days ago. What’ll it be, stranger?”

  “I’m looking for information. What town is this?”

  “Wal, I reckon it ain’t got no name yet. We ain’t fancy like them people down the river at Chloride. Maybe we’ll call this one Charlie’s Town if the diggin’s last long enough. There’s a settlement around Winston’s store too.”

  “I’ve heard of Chloride. This is New Mexico, right?”

  “Shore is, pilgrim. I’ve knowed some people to get lost, but you’ve got ‘em all beat. This here is sure-enough New Mexico Territory.”

  A voice interrupted the man.

  “Looks like a dude, Charley. Probably rich too, not like us. Reckon he’d be interested in buying us a drink? That bug-juice you’re sellin’ ain’t much, but at least it’s wet.”

  “Stay out of this, Bill. Buy your own damned drinks.”

  The man scraped his chair back from the table and stood up. “I reckon not, Charlie. I’ve got a thirst and that dude’s gonna buy me a whiskey. Hell, I think he should just buy us the whole damned bottle.”

  Ray turned and looked at the man. He was bearded and the shirt he wore was crusted with remains of old meals. The man’s eyes were bloodshot. His mouth hung slack, but there was nothing slack about the long knife he wore on his belt. The well-worn bone handle had been tied in place with a thong that now hung loose from the scabbard belt-loop. The man had loosened the tie while standing up.

  “Wal, how about it, dude? You buyin’, or am I cuttin’?”

  Ray looked at the man, trying to read his thoughts. The only thing he sensed was anger and muddled resentment. The anger grew stronger, then was replaced by a murderous rage.

  The situation wasn’t totally strange. Ray had encountered aggression soon after entering the Army. At first it had come from fellow soldiers, establishing their place in the dominance rank. Later he’d found it in a number of sleazy dives, foolishly entered before learning that some places were better left to others. The knife threat was unusual, but not unprecedented.

  “You’ll buy your own whiskey or you’ll go thirsty. You probably won’t like the taste, though,” Ray said.

  “Hell, I don’t like the taste a-tall! That stuff Charlie peddles tastes like horse piss. The first one does, anyway; after that, your mouth is too numb to taste anything. But you’re by-God gonna buy or I’m gonna gut you and use your carcass to warn the next dude that when Big Bill says buy, he’d better pony up!”

  “One warning. If you pull that knife, Bill, I’m gonna stick it up your ass sideways and twist. Sit down now and you’ll have a nice day, or at least no worse than what you’ve already had.”

  The big man was beyond listening; the knife gleamed dully when he drew it from the scabbard. The long blade was clean, unlike his clothes, and triangular in shape, double edged and eighteen inches long. No Bowie knife, this; maybe it was the knife once called an Arkansas Toothpick. Whether named or not, the blade looked lethal. Big Bill, as he’d styled himself, might be drunk, but he looked able to use that blade.

  Ray watched expressionlessly, leaning against the makeshift bar, as the man stepped away from the table.

  Chapter Seven

 

  But there was no answer, not even a sense that Ray was listening to his attempt. Disturbed, T commed Shezzie.

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  #

  The man was drunk, but dangerous. His left hand was forward, ready to block or grab, while the long blade was held down by his right leg, ready to rip upward in a stab. The man walked forward, confident, waiting for Ray to show fear.

  Ray used his psychokinetic ability to grab the man’s left foot and anchor it for a brief moment. Big Bill stumbled, eyes wide in astonishment as he lost his balance; the knife wavered for a moment, pointing down and to the side. Ray stepped forward, crouching slightly, then straightened, punching through the target and putting his full weight behind the uppercut. The blow, delivered by a right arm and shoulder accustomed to stacking hay bales, caught Bill on the point of his jaw. His head twisted as he fell motionless on the floor.

  Ray rubbed bruised knuckles, then picked up the fallen knife and looked at it. Sharp, crude, but a deadly weapon in the hands of someone who knew how to use it. He thrust the blade into the bar, this time aiding the force with his PK. He slammed the hilt to the side, snapping the steel. Ray stuck the remaining portion of the broken blade through his belt. Even broken, it was a possible weapon if Big Bill got his hands on it.

  “Charlie, Bill’s dead. That dude plumb broke his neck!”

  “Mister...”

  “Leave it, Charlie. He had a knife, I didn’t. Bad luck for him, stumbling like that. Let me guess: this is not the first fight Bill’s been in.”

  “Naw, he’s been in a couple of cuttin’ scrapes. He killed a
man over to Silver City, and he’s been run out of half a dozen minin’ camps. I reckon he won’t be missed. But you kilt him with one punch! That plumb shines, mister!

  “Say, there’s a miner from Cornwall, from over in England. He’s working a claim up on Chloride Creek. He’s won a few prize-fights. You willin’ to fight him? Good money in prize fightin’, mister. Beats diggin’ in a creek that’s still cold from snowmelt.”

  “No, I’m moving on. You said Chloride is downriver from here?”

  “Shore, just follow the trail and you can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks. Too bad about Bill, but he brought it on himself.

  Charlie addressed the men who’d been drinking with Big Bill. “You two, drag him out and bury him. There’s a buryin’ ground down past the river and there’s a shovel hangin’ on the wall outside.”

  “Aw, why us? Charlie, you want him buried you do it.”

  “I don’t care if you bury him or just haul his carcass out and leave it for the wolves. But you came here with him, you take care of the body. You can have whatever money he’s got in his poke.”

  “Wal, I reckon we can bury his carcass in that case. Deep enough to hide the stink, anyway.”

  #

  T had plenty of time to think as he flew southeast.

  Investigating what happened during teleporting would have to wait; by the time T landed at the ranch, he was exhausted. Making a sandwich and washing it down with a beer, he took a shower, then fell into bed.

  He was still tired when he woke up the next morning, but there were things to do. Ray could take care of himself. Woe to the man or men who got in his way! But Libby might be in danger. At the very least, she’d be alone and frightened. Ray had claimed responsibility for teaching her to levitate and use the bubble, but T felt some of that guilt himself. Indirect, but still guilt; had he not taught Shorty, the probably source of Libby’s awakened ability?

 

 

 

  Bobby landed twenty minutes later. Removing his goggles as he came in, he nodded to T. “These things help. Being able to keep the wind out of my eyes makes all the difference. I don’t know if I’m as fast as you are, but I’m a lot faster than I was.”

  “Get a motorcycle helmet. It protects your eyes and also makes it easier to breathe.”

  “I’ll do that. You mentioned breakfast?”

  “It’s on the stove, scrambled eggs, English muffins, sausage and bacon. Help yourself.”

  “Thanks. You wanted to talk about something?” Bobby filled a plate while he listened.

  “Yeah. Libby’s gone, disappeared. She tried to teleport from Houston to Reno. Ray’s gone too. He blames himself, and he took off before I was ready. He planned to go to Houston and try following Libby’s trail. Now I can’t contact either one of them.

  “I was thinking, this came about after we tried using the bubble while we were levitating. The bubble’s electrical, so I got to wondering if that was what was throwing off the teleport efforts. What do you think?”

  “Well, it’s a thought. No way to be sure, though. Even when we only went a short distance, we were off a little. But here’s the thing, what if we teleport and come out where there’s a house or something? Unless we absolutely know there’s nothing there, it sounds to me like a good way to get killed.”

  “You’re right. But unless we understand what’s happening, I won’t be able to follow Ray or Libby. I’m not worried about Ray; he’ll land on his feet wherever he goes, or for that matter whenever. But Libby’s still a kid.

  “I don’t know anything right now, I don’t understand directions, I don’t understand distance, I don’t even know for certain that time travel is involved. That’s where you come in. I’ll do the experimenting, you’re my control. Whatever happens, don’t try teleporting until I’ve got a handle on it.”

  “T, I’m not afraid to give it a try. You know that.”

  “I understand, but I’m the guy with the most experience. I’ve also got more control over the rest of my abilities. I’ve got a better chance of surviving a mistake.”

  “If that’s what you want, I’ll be the control. Do I have time for a shower? I’d like to wash my clothes too.”

  “Sure, go ahead. I don’t know how long this will take, getting a handle on things. It’ll take as long as it takes. It’s frustrating, knowing I need to do something but not knowing what or how.”

  #

  “T, you were thinking the bubble caused the time travel?”

  “It’s the only thing I can think of, Bobby. Two things I noticed, that funny delay when we were comming and that you and Ray didn’t go exactly where you intended to go. So I thought I’d see what happened if I tried it. See if you notice the same effects that I did. I’ll try different directions too, see whether that makes a difference. I’m also going to try teleporting without the bubble. If I go right where I intended, then we can be sure the bubble caused you two to change directions.”

  “T, I wouldn’t go any further that I could see if I were you. As long as you can be sure there’s nothing in the way, teleporting is probably safe, but for sure you don’t want to teleport blind.”

  “I won’t, but I might try linking with your mind and teleporting somewhere that you’re watching. That would allow me to extend the range to see if that makes a difference.”

  “Let’s take it slow, okay? You’re concerned about Libby and Ray, but if you kill yourself you can’t do anyone any good.”

  “I understand. I don’t really have good control of my other abilities while I’m in the bubble, so I’ll begin without it.”

  “Works for me. Want to go out back or head up into the mountains? By the way, I’ve crushed quite a bit of that rock and picked out the visible gold. I don’t know how much there is, but it’s heavy. The only way I can lift it is by using PK.”

  “More than a hundred pounds, then. Don’t dump the crushed rock, there might be silver or other metals in there that a refinery can extract. How’d you do the crushing?”

  “I just laid the ore on a flat rock and lifted a big one to hammer with. It didn’t take much. I picked out the gold, then raked what was left off to the side. I won’t toss anything away. It’ll be a nice nest egg after I finish cleaning out that pocket.”

  #

  The two sat at the dining room table. T had made sandwiches and a pot of coffee. Neither had anything to say until they’d finished eating. Collecting a second cup of coffee, they walked out to the patio and sat down.

  “All right, T, correct me if I’m wrong. The bubble is the complicating factor.”

  “Right, I can teleport for short distances and go where I want to go if I’m not using the bubble. But deploying the bubble first means that I’ll either go left or right from where I intended, plus we start getting that weird echo effect. You heard it and so did I. I was listening to Max at one point and I got the same thing from him, so it has to be because of what I was doing.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, T. So why did you go to the left side of where you intended some of the time and to the right side other times?”

  “I’m thinking the electrical bubble is reacting to the direction. If I’m facing northwest, then I end up drifting farther to the west. I only go off to the east when I’m facing near to east.”

  “What if you were going due north or south, T?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll need a compass to be sure. I’ve got one somewhere.”

  “I’ve got a really nice one back at my camp, a Brunton. Why don’t we go back there? I also want to show you what I’ve been extracting from that pocket. Something else, too; you’re going to look for Libby and Ray as soon as you figure things out, aren’t you?”

  “Just as soon as I ca
n, Bobby.”

  “I don’t think you’ll need me to go with you. I’m here if you do, you know that. But what I was thinking is that you’ll need money. You can’t be sure that dollars will work where you’re going. Suppose you end up back when silver certificates were being issued? Maybe even gold coins?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe I should take some of those Krugerrands.”

  “T, do they have dates on them? Maybe mint or proof marks?”

  “Bobby, I just don’t know. I suppose I could always flatten them, sell them to a gold buyer.”

  “Why bother, T? It won’t take much time to melt down some of that gold I’ve been mining or maybe hammer it into sheets or wires. If you have raw gold to sell, it doesn’t come with dates.”

  “You’re right, I should have thought of that. All right, we’ll head for the mine as soon as we’re done with our coffee.”

  T set up a pair of ‘targets’, rocks laid on the ground in an X shape, a Y, and a Z. Orienting himself with the compass, he attempted to teleport directly at the Y, intending to arrive some twenty feet above the ground.

  Teleporting worked without the bubble; he was able to move to any other point he chose, so long he could see the location. It was only after he deployed the bubble and teleported that the drift happened. Again, a deviation to left or right of magnetic north put him off to one side or the other. The farther off he was, up to ninety degrees left or right, the greater the drift. From that point on until he reached due south, the deviation became smaller. Clearly, teleporting within the bubble was being affected by the direction he chose.

  The farther he attempted to go, the more pronounced the echo-effect he sensed from Bobby’s thoughts. Teleporting over longer distances while using the bubble might well result in greater displacement in time. Was he going back in time, or forward? There was no way of telling. Was it even possible to go forward?

  So many different choices; but at the same time, teleporting without the bubble’s protection was likely dangerous.

  Thoughtfully, T joined Bobby and the two stuffed their pockets with gold before heading back to the ranch.