by Geonn Cannon
“That would be helpful. Untying me would also go a long way.”
“When you know more, then I’ll consider it.” He took another bite of melon, and Dorothy regretted not taking it. “What do you suppose this is? This place where we’ve been holding you?”
“I haven’t the foggiest,” she admitted. “There are certain familiar aspects to the design, but on a whole, I’m stumped.”
“This is an airplane.”
She looked at him, then examined the space. A line of pill-shaped windows running along either side of the body. Rows of seats, clustered in groups of three, all facing forward.
“I’ve been in airplanes,” she said. “None of them looked anything like this.”
“You’ve been in planes from this era,” Neville said. “This is Ackon Air flight 372, originating in Dallas, Texas, on February 12, in the year 1973.”
Dorothy stared at him. “What in the world are you talking about?”
He twisted in the seat to face her. His lips were glistening from the melon, which had also dripped into his beard. His eyes were wild.
“This plane is from the future, Lady Boone.”
She looked around at the grime and rot that seemed to cover every surface. She didn’t know what the thing was, but his story was too utterly incredible to believe. She remembered the Society’s debate about con artists. To sell a lie, it needed to be believable. Something so very ridiculous had to be the truth because no one would be crazy enough to make it up. And yet, this was a step too far.
“You’ve gone mad.”
Neville said, “I assure you, that could not be farther from the truth.”
“You attack the people who came to bring you home, you hold me prisoner, you insist there’s a second version of you running around, and now you’re telling me this ancient ruin is actually from fifty years in the future? How would you react to hearing this story, Captain Neville?”
He dropped his head. “I suppose you make a valid point. Except for one point: we aren’t the ones who attacked you. And there’s a reason the plane looks like it’s over a century old. Because it is.”
She nodded slowly. “Captain... Felix. Please, I’m begging you. Release me. Together we can find my friends and we can leave this place behind. We can get you the help you so badly need when we’re back in London.”
He stood up and assumed the tone of an orator. “In 1973, a plane left the airport in Dallas, Texas, en route to São Paulo. It was going to be a twelve hour flight. Not long after they crossed into Brazilian airspace, they came across an anomaly. The captain adjusted course but there was no way to avoid it entirely. The starboard wing was sheared off. The crew did their best, but a bird can’t fly with a single wing. They crashed. Right here. Ninety percent of the passengers survived. Not a bad ratio, considering the circumstances. The crew got everyone safely off the plane and they waited for rescue teams to arrive.”
“I’m guessing no one came.”
Neville shrugged. “Maybe there were rescuers in the future, people who scoured the jungle for a plane that had vanished into thin air. But the place where they actually crashed, there was no one. No one even knew what had happened. Now, we can’t know exactly when they arrived. The survivors kept the best records they could, but things were lost and forgotten. Our best estimate is that the plane crashed into this forest sometime around 1650.”
Dorothy raised an eyebrow. “That’s a very long time.”
“Mm-hmm.” He was now picking the last bits of meat from the melon rind. “Some of the survivors went in search of civilization. There are no records of what happened to them. Others remained at the crash site. They built shelters. There were supplies on the plane, but not much. Just enough to keep them alive, if not comfortable. They began to pair off, have babies. They sought out neighboring tribes for help with food. Within three generations, they had built their own little world in the ruins of the plane which had stranded them here.”
“And now?”
“Skipping over a lot of history, now they are feared. They’ve spent the past three centuries absorbing their neighbors, killing the ones who refused to accept their dominance. Murder, pillage, destruction. They’ve built up their numbers and expanded to the point where they are now a threat to larger cities. Ketcham believes they’re going to take over Belém within the next few weeks.”
Dorothy said, “It’s hard to imagine a threat of this magnitude going undetected.”
“That’s because they didn’t exist before I arrived.”
Dorothy laughed. “So all of this is a myth you’ve conjured?”
Neville shook his head. “If only it was that simple. I told you that this plane crossed through an unknown anomaly. That anomaly was created through my actions. When I discovered the Pratear, I set in motion a chain of events that would, five decades later, send a plane three hundred years into the past. History was immediately changed, but time isn’t that fluid. Things have become unhinged here, at the epicenter of the event.”
“Unhinged... how?”
“Like I said, there are two versions of me. I’ve seen him myself. I tried to kill him just to set things right, but... well... I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a position to aim a gun at yourself, but it’s incredibly hard to pull the trigger.”
Dorothy said, “I suppose that makes sense.”
“There are two paths,” Neville said. “In one, the scourge of the Burnt Empire threatens to become unstoppable. In the other, there’s still a chance to close the anomaly and prevent the plane from ever going back to the past.”
“Meaning that all of this will cease to exist?” Dorothy asked.
“Presumably. Obviously I have no reference point to any of this. But it stands to reason that if we’re successful, this branch of reality will never exist.”
“A branch of reality which... I seem to be a part of.”
He smiled sadly. “My apologies for that turn of events, Lady Boone, but I’ll be signing my own death warrant as well. The only way to stop the children of the Burnt Empire from conquering the world is to ensure they never come to be in the first place.”
Dorothy closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Untie me.”
“I can’t...”
“I’ll help you,” she said. “But I need to be untied to do it.”
He stared at her, obviously uncertain as to whether he could believe her.
“I won’t sacrifice my life for just anyone. Prove to me this Burnt Empire is as bad as you make them out to be, and I’ll help you put an end to their carnage. No matter what the cost.”
Neville considered for a long moment, then stood to undo her restraints.
Chapter Nine
The next time Trafalgar woke, she felt well enough to leave her bed. At some point, Cora - she hoped it had been Cora - had stripped her out of her mud- and blood-stained clothes and left her in a lightweight shift. Clean clothes were folded on the chair Cora had been using: a white cotton blouse and trousers. Trafalgar put them on, along with the boots which were standing next to the door, and ventured out.
It was still night, but the clearing outside her tent was ringed with lanterns that made it bright as day. There were more permanent shelters beyond the circle of light, and she saw shadowy forms of what she assumed to be watchmen moving between the trees. Felix was seated at the base of a torch, carving something from a piece of wood. When Trafalgar got close enough, she could see that it was a person. A woman, judging from the shape of it. When he held it up to examine his progress by the campfire’s light, she realized she recognized its muse.
“She’s unattached, as far as I know.”
“Pardon?”
“Miss Hyde,” Trafalgar said.
He smiled self-consciously and continued his work. “I assume you’re feeling better?”
“Still not quite myself, but I believe I’ve spent far too much time lying down when there’s work to be done. Cora explained to me what is required. I won
’t pretend to understand everything... your actions in the present affecting the future, which caused changes in the past...” She waved her hand.
“Perhaps because you see time as a strict forward progression of events. It may be easier to think of it as a web. Every decision we make has consequences. One morning you wake up and dash out the front door to begin your day. Or, alternatively, you decide to linger over breakfast and delay your departure by five minutes. Both situations are equally likely, so both paths exist in some form. We’ll never know what happens in that other path, but I believe it is there, somewhere in the ether.”
“A million billion threads based on every single person’s every tiny decision?”
“Yes. And of course, sometimes threads intertwine. Maybe leaving early doesn’t change anything. You arrive at work earlier in one timeline, but you run into a friend who delays you anyway. The two threads are once again united.”
Trafalgar said, “Except in one I didn’t have breakfast, so I would want a larger lunch.”
Felix smiled. “Another thread.”
“And you believe your arrival in the Amazon created a new thread, which somehow changed the past.”
“I do. Did Cora tell you the legend?”
Trafalgar shook her head. “She had enough trouble trying to explain dual timelines to me.”
Felix put down his knife. “Well, I suppose I’ve heard it enough times over the past year to give it a shot.” He cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Many generations past, before the airships of the outside world rose above the clouds, the skies erupted. A great silver bird, gleaming like wet stone and lit from within by an unnatural flame, shattered through the firmament. It shook the ground when it landed, toppling trees. Fires spread for miles and the air was thick with a poisonous smell. The blood of the great bird seeped into the rivers, making it deadly to drink.
“The bird had riders. Gods who seemed human but spoke an unusual tongue and wore strange clothing. The local tribes helped these strangers, gave them food and provided shelter. The strangers were grateful at first. They learned how to communicate. They spoke of cooperation and living in harmony. But it soon became clear that their intentions were far from friendly.”
Trafalgar had crouched during the story, and now she settled on the ground in a more comfortable position. “They began to dominate the local tribes, didn’t they?”
“Well, once they had food and shelter, there was little reason to play nice. They set up in the ruins of a village their giant flying bird had destroyed. Soon the other tribes were warning each other to avoid the Burnt Empire. They were liars. They schemed to rule and destroy. They burned any villages who refused to swear fealty to them. Wars were fought. Countless lives lost.”
Trafalgar said, “Astounding that none of this has been noticed by the outside world.”
Felix said, “I’m certain it will be, once it has happened.”
She stared at him. “I’m confused...”
“This village, the one providing refuge for us, is the one the Burnt Empire will crash into. Three hundred years ago. But as you can see, it is intact. The ripples haven’t reached this spot yet. That’s why the elders believe one version of history while the younger people remember something else.”
“So you believe the legend is something that will actually occur?”
“The ‘great silver bird’ is an aeroplane, Miss Trafalgar. But not one that you or I would recognize. I believe it’s a plane from the future. A plane that was sent back in time because of something I unleashed. I set the course of events in motion when I arrived here to find the Pratear. It was the first ripple in what will become a tidal wave. Fortunately, that wave has yet to reach our shores and wipe us out of existence.”
Trafalgar shook her head. “This is madness.”
“It’s the truth as I’ve come to believe it. I discovered the Pratear and, in that act, created a situation which had ramifications I could never have imagined. It changed the people who live here. It changed their history. I have seen glimpses of the other reality. The one I created. There’s another version of me there. We’re both trying to make amends before this affects the rest of the world, but I believe if things are put right, one of us will have to die.”
Trafalgar said, “It stands to reason that one timeline or another will eventually overtake the other, at which point you will... either cease to exist or combine with your double.” A thought occurred to her. “There’s also a chance that Dorothy survived in that version of events!”
“It’s a possibility, yes.”
“So by eliminating it, we will... we will effectively be killing her.”
Felix shook his head. “She’s already dead. This timeline is the true path. It is the result of how things played out before I interfered. We must set things right. Surely Lady Boone would agree as to what must be done.”
Trafalgar grimaced rather than conceding his point. “So what do we have to do? You’ve had a year to fix things. Why haven’t you?”
“It isn’t quite as easy as flipping a switch and setting everything right. I’ve been thinking and rethinking my every move. Was the anomaly created due to what I did, or will it happen because of the actions I take to try setting it right? I’ve been learning how to communicate with the tribes in the area to learn use their wisdom, to plot a timeline of the changes. I cannot allow myself to make things worse.”
“Meanwhile, your hesitation means the new timeline has come closer to replacing our own.”
He ducked his head sheepishly. “There was already bleed-through from the moment I tried returning to the boat. My men were slaughtered by a tribe that hadn’t existed twenty-four hours earlier. But you are correct. Waiting this long has allowed the two versions of reality to blur a bit at the edges. Even last month, Lady Boone would never have Slipped.”
“Slipped?”
“Yes, Slipped or Slipping. That’s what we call it when someone goes from...” He held his hand up and slid it to the side. “One to the other.”
Trafalgar said, “So we can go there and save her.”
“There’s no guarantee you would be able to do that, or that you would be able to come back if you did. The only outcome where she survives is if she comes here. And like I said, there’s no guarantee she could do that, if she’s even alive there. It’s best to assume we are on opposite sides of a river trying to ensure the flood takes out their shore instead of ours.”
“I can’t assume the worst yet. Not this early.”
Felix said, “I sympathize. I felt the same way with the men from my expedition. I held out hope for as long as I could before I realized it was foolish to believe the Burnt Empire would take mercy on anyone they caught trespassing.”
“They’re truly that fierce?”
“They are... barbaric, and cunning. The native tribes, they’re intelligent but they lack...” He searched for the right word. “They’re naïve. They don’t wage war the same way we do. The Empire took advantage of that. They took what we’ve learned from countless conflicts - along with whatever conflicts will occur between now and the era from which they hail - and applied it to people who are still fighting with spears and rudimentary weapons.”
Trafalgar realized something. “If the Empire discovers we’re trying to wipe them out...”
“That, my dear, is what has occupied the rest of my time here.” He reached into the grass next to his hip and retrieved a revolver. He placed it on his thigh. “The Empire knows who I am and what I’m trying to do. They seem to know that if I’m successful, they’ll cease to exist. They’re doing everything in their power to stop me. The other Felix Neville has attempted to assassinate me on at least one occasion.”
“My god.”
“We have to stop them. I’ve been reluctant to enlist the villagers to assist me in another trek to the Pratear, but with you and Miss Hyde to offer assistance... there may be hope. If you’re willing, of course.”
“Absolutely,” Trafalgar sa
id.
He scanned the darkness behind her. “Your hopes that Lady Boone is alive on the other side has aroused a new concern in my mind.”
“A concern?”
“Yes. I mentioned they were cunning. If your friend was alive after the ambush, they may have seen some value in taking her as a prisoner. They may be using her to ensure they survive.”
Trafalgar shook her head. “Never. Dorothy would never help a group as terrible as this.”
“She might if they lied to her. They could tell her that they’re working against the Burnt Empire as well. If she believed she was working with the angels to stop a terrible tribe from taking over the world, she would join forces with them.”
“Bloody hell,” Trafalgar muttered. “You’re right.”
Felix rested his head against the torch and closed his eyes. “I was so relieved when you and Miss Hyde arrived. I thought at last I had gained the upper hand in this conflict. But it seems as if we’ve only kept the odds relatively even.”
“It’s worse than that, Captain Neville,” Trafalgar said. “Dorothy Boone has been a friend of mine for several years but, before that, we were rivals. I’ve faced her as an adversary. And if she is indeed in this other timeline working against us, they most definitely have the upper hand.”
He opened his eyes to stare at her. After a moment, he wiped a hand over his face and sighed heavily. “I hope you take this in the manner with which it’s intended, Miss Trafalgar... but if that’s the case, then I sincerely hope your friend died in the ambush.”
Though she refused to say as much out loud, Trafalgar reluctantly agreed that it would be the best outcome for everyone.
#
The first thing Dorothy requested after being released from her restraints was a guide with a machete. She wanted to retrace their route back to the ambush site. They’d already lost so much time, but there was a chance she could find some trace of where Trafalgar and Cora had gone. Maybe they’d found refuge, maybe Eiriz or one of his men was still alive and would be waiting to take her to them. Neville refused.
