Chase (ChronoShift Trilogy) (2 page)

L-04-14-65   L.H.O.

K-11-22-63  J.W.B.

She explained they'd thought it was a reference to the Lincoln and Kennedy assassinations.   Mark and Ty had thought Smith must have been planning something around the assassinations, and since the note was their only lead on how to find the man again, they'd split up, Mark going back to 1865 and Ty to 1963.

"They split up?"

"Yes, Mark took Lincoln and Ty took Kennedy.  Last I knew, they were just going to look around and see if they spotted Smith anywhere."

"Smells like a trap.  Seems mighty careless of Smith to conveniently drop this note at that bank."

"It didn't occur to us at the time, but I guess you're right.  I didn't get worried till today.  They didn't show up at all yesterday, which can only mean..."

"Mark's never been suspicious enough.  Yes, if they didn't show up, that's bad.  We should be able to undo it though — that is, as long as this Smith doesn't get me too."

I know I disappeared a time or two

And along the way I lost me and you

"
Little Rock
"

                 ~ Collin Raye

April 14
^th
1865, Washington D.C.

Hardy decided to go after Mark first.  Finding out what happened to him shouldn't be too tricky.  If Mark were looking for this Smith guy, he would have visited Ford's Theater in D.C. the night of Lincoln's assassination.  Even if Mark had visited a number of other different times or places, the only place Smith would know to find Mark to capture him would be at that theater near the moment of the assassination, and Smith
had
to be the one responsible for Mark's disappearance.

On the other hand, if it turned out Smith wasn't responsible, it would prove impossible for Hardy to find Mark if he didn't visit Ford's theater that night.

Dressed in upper-class attire appropriate for a Washingtonian of 1865, Hardy waited just outside the theater.  He kept a close watch on anyone entering or leaving, especially the carriages pulling up in front of the venue to let people on and off. If Hardy were going to kidnap someone, he'd want to be able to whisk them away quickly.  Smith would likely be thinking along the same lines.

Around 10:15, a single muffled gunshot echoed from inside the theater.

Such a humbling, hollow sound.  Hardy knew what that shot meant for Abraham Lincoln.

A few moments later, Mark emerged from a side entrance followed closely by two rough-looking men dressed in black frock coats.  The men ushered Mark toward a carriage which had been parked for several minutes by the curb.

Why didn't Mark just shift out to escape
?  He suspected they must have a gun on him.

Hardy dared not attempt a rescue here.  There was a chance this Smith knew what he looked like, which meant he needed to stay out of sight.

Before Mark could enter the cab, one of the men chopped him on the back of the neck.  The other caught his unconscious body and shoved it into the empty car.

Hardy followed them at a safe distance on a horse he'd rented from a local farmer.  The inconspicuous carriage bearing Mark advanced at a slow pace as it left the city, rocking with each small hole in the roadway it encountered.  To remain unnoticed, Hardy made sure he maintained a significant distance between himself and the cab, especially once their surroundings became more rural.

He would have to drop back even more if these guys went any farther into the country.  The farther they went, the more Hardy and his mount would stand out.

One of those men was probably Smith and, if so, he would have a shifter.  Hardy needed to find a way to free Mark before he got hurt, and he was having trouble imagining scenarios where that wasn’t going to be a difficult feat.

He was definitely
not
looking forward to entering into a shifting duel with another time traveler.  He needed to devise a plan that would get Mark out of there without being outdone by Smith.

The houses lining the road were growing sparser, enough so that he'd soon be noticed.  It was camouflage time.

He wondered, if he were to push the shift button right now,
would his horse go with him?

He knew Mark had shifted with Laura once just by holding her hand.  There was only one way to find out.  If he was wrong, he'd only have a sore rear to show for it.

He pushed the button…and thankfully, did not find himself in sudden free fall.  As he'd hoped, both Hardy and the horse were now twenty minutes in the past.

He just loved this watch.  It had some very nice features.

The carriage was behind him now, further back down the road.  Instead of appearing to be following, he now rode a good distance ahead of the coach that held Mark.  It was an excellent surveillance maneuver since it wasn't natural to suspect someone
ahead
of you of actually being in pursuit.

He stayed consistently well ahead of the coach until he noticed it turning off onto a side road out of the corner of his eye. He shifted once more, traveling back far enough to appear in front of the carriage again, but now on the side road.

When the car turned onto a narrow drive that led to a farmhouse, it was time to shift again.  He led the horse to a grove of trees and staked it out behind a small knoll where it would remain unseen from the house or the barn.

He needed to shift to an hour before the carriage arrived so he could scope out the buildings while they were empty.  Hardy remounted the horse before he shifted, thinking he might need him for a quick get-away.

After this last shift, however, the horse began to act funny. It spread out all four hooves and planted them firmly, looking at him with the most pitiful expression he'd ever seen on a horse.

It nipped at its flanks with a sudden desperation and then he thought it might be sick, but instead it suddenly broke out into a thick sweat.  Rivulets of perspiration rolled down its coat, even along its face.  He was worried that he might have inadvertently killed the animal, but after a few minutes, it finally began to recover.

            Apparently, when shifting, large animals got nauseous  faster than people.  An interesting factoid to be filed away for a future date.

Perhaps he'd be better off not relying on this horse for a quick get-away after all.  Come to think of it, he had just shifted a total of five times within a few hours, including the initial shift to 1865.  He would be smart to camp out for the evening and let the shifter recharge before he attempted a rescue.  If anything went wrong when he tried to free Mark, they might need to shift several times in a row.

While he felt sympathy, the miserable look on that horse’s face had been kind of funny.  What wouldn't be funny was if they got caught because the shifter shut down on him.  Since he knew where Mark was now, Hardy would simply scope out the barn and farmhouse at his leisure, and then move away from the property to camp for the night.  He would wait the standard twenty-four hours to let his shifter rest, or do whatever it was it needed to do to reset, and then go back.

***

Mark lifted his head.  He’d just heard some commotion outside the rustic door.  His arms ached, his legs were cramping, and he was tired of waiting.

Why don't they just get on with it?

Rialto, the man they’d known as Smith, had left at one point — at least Mark hadn't heard his voice for a while — but now he was back.

Mark strained against his bonds, but they wouldn't give.  He was stuck.  He couldn't even pull them close enough to his teeth to chew through them.  His only chance would be to bust off one of the slats of wood to which he was tied, but that would require more time than he probably had.  They could return any second to put a bullet in his head.

Suddenly, static hissed directly behind him, the type of hiss you only heard when someone was shifting in or out. Music to his ears.  He barely had time to turn and register Hardy's face before he grabbed his forearm.  Then, Mark felt himself shifting out.

The ropes had come along for the ride, but now they dangled loosely from his freed wrists.

The barn was gone.  It had been night and was now daylight, probably early morning.  Hardy must have shifted them to a time before the barn had existed.

They were in a narrow pasture surrounded by trees.  About five feet to Mark's right was a grassy slope that descended into thick woods.

Warring emotions battled inside as Mark studied his rescuer.  He would have much preferred it to have been Ty who saved him. The relief he felt was strong, but anger over the past swirled against it, clouding his vision.

Mark started to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of more electric crackles.  Seeing the figures of two men phasing into their time right behind Hardy like something out of Star Trek, Mark dove straight into his former friend and tackled him.  They rolled down the slope and into the forest.

Bullets spat up plumes of dirt where they'd stood just moments before.  Knowing their best hope was to not break momentum, both men let themselves continue rolling down the slope as far as possible.

"Defense!"  Mark called out.

Hardy understood immediately.  They'd slowed sufficiently to control their descent, so both men dove toward each other, throwing themselves into a crouching position, back to back.  Together, they had a full 360 degree view of the surrounding terrain.  Hardy passed Mark one of his handguns.

The shots from the top of the hill had ceased, but neither man expected the attack to resume from there.  Their attackers wore shifters like them.  Any second, they could hear the electric static from a new shift, and from any direction.

If they heard that, they would have a fraction of a moment to respond, but if Rialto's men shifted into their time far enough away from their position, Mark and Hardy would never hear them coming.  With one good sniper rifle, their enemies would be able to pick then off like fish in a barrel.

"We've got to get out of here," Mark breathed.

"No kidding," Hardy replied.

"What year are we in?"

"1834."

Mark began adjusting the settings on his watch.  "All right, same day.  Twenty years back.  We shift on the count of three."

"Roger that."

"One, two,...
three
."

The woods shifted oddly in their vision, most trees shrinking, some larger, more mature ones appearing out of nowhere.  One that had lain collapsed on the forest floor in front of Mark was suddenly upright and healthy.  It was an effect that was still difficult to get used to.

Hardy looked at Mark.  "What now, hot shot?"