Out of Time (3 page)

The interior face was ringed by two thin bands, each marked with N, S, E and W. The face itself was a complex configuration of dials. Some dials were numbered with the standard one through twelve, while others were in increments of ten to one hundred. Near the stem was a cutout inset where the phases of the moon were displayed. The illustrated moon was full and there was a small black disk slowly moving across its face.

Simon’s finger brushed against the crown. The stem clicked and extended. Elizabeth wasn’t sure, but she thought the hand on one of the smaller dials had changed position. Very carefully, Simon pushed the stem back into place.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, peering over his shoulder.

Simon nodded, but he was clearly lost in the watch.

Wanting to leave him to his private memories, Elizabeth peered into the box. “May I?”

Simon glanced up. “Certainly.”

Elizabeth picked up a small, Egyptian scarab ring. The scarab itself seemed genuine enough, although there was a crack down the beetle’s back, but the band and the setting were far too modern, probably from this century. She was about to comment on the irregularity, but stopped when she saw how carefully Simon was inspecting his grandfather’s watch.

Clearly, he had an emotional connection with it, and she absolutely understood. There were times when she’d be sailing along just fine and then come across something of her father’s and it would abruptly alter her course. Most of the time, it’d make her smile, but other times, finding his lucky cufflinks or his favorite deck of cards sent her into a tailspin. This was obviously one of those times for Simon.

She watched as he caressed the case, his fingertips tracing the vaguely familiar contours of the elegant design. The design…

She frowned and looked at it more closely, then closed the small chest and studied the lid. The design on the watch was the same as on the lid.

“They have the same inlay,” she said and moved back to look over Simon’s shoulder. She squinted down at it again.

“Interesting,” he mused, holding the watch out next to the box’s inlay.

Carefully, he opened the watch and she noticed a small black disc on the face click forward. “How does it know we’re having a lunar eclipse tonight?”

Simon looked up at her, poised to say something, but he stopped because, as if on cue, the room began to darken slightly. The moonlight filtering in from the window was slowly obscured by the earth’s shadow. Moving in perfect sync, both the disc on the dial and the darkness blotted out the moon.

Without warning, a crackle of energy erupted from the watch. Small blue streaks snaked out, shimmering over Simon’s hand. Like azure lightning, the bolts moved up his arm and covered his entire body.

Startled, Elizabeth reached out to him, and as soon as she touched his arm, the blue light slithered onto her hand and enveloped her, paralyzed her.

The world around her began to vibrate, faster and faster. Like the wings of a hummingbird the motion was so quick the edges of reality began to blur. It was as if the universe were trying to shake itself apart.

And then, it did.

THE SUN SLICED THE alley in two.

Simon groaned and rolled onto his side, his hand falling into a puddle of warm water. The strange sensation brought him back to the edge of consciousness. The blaring of car horns in the distance grew more insistent and drew him out of the haze.

The acrid smell of gasoline and burning coal filtered between the old brick buildings. He took a deep breath and gagged on the stale, dank air. Bright sunlight stabbed into his eyes, and he brought a hand up to shield his face from the glare. Squinting against the light, his head throbbing mercilessly, he forced himself to sit up.

The world around him finally came into focus. Battered trash bins and discarded wooden crates lay like victims of a firing squad against a brick wall. What in God’s name had happened? What the hell was he doing here? Or was this another vivid dream strangling him with realism?

Days haunted with sleepless nights blurred his memories. The last thing he could remember was sitting in his living room. He’d been going through his grandfather’s things. Decomposing fragments slowly came back to him. He’d settled in for a night of warm whiskey and cold memories, but someone else was there. In his mind’s eye, he saw a flash of auburn hair and a familiar curve of a cheek.

Elizabeth! Good God, whatever had happened, she’d been with him. The aching pain of his dreams, the loss and desperation rifled through his senses in rapid fire succession. He pushed himself to his feet and stood on shaky legs. His mind refused to clear, except for one thought—he needed to find her. Frantically, he scanned the alley, dreading what he might find.

Whatever had happened, if he’d been attacked in some sort of home invasion or kidnapping gone wrong, she’d been with him. She’d called out to him. His heart raced as his eyes focused.

It took him a moment, not long, but long enough for his heart to clench with fear for her, but he found her. She was only a few feet away, lying face down in the shadows. His heart raced faster in his chest as he stumbled to her side, dropping to his knees next to her.

She wasn’t moving. This had to be a dream.

“Miss West,” he said insistently.

Nothing.

He steeled himself for the worst. Perhaps this was a nightmare after all. His hands trembled as he gripped her shoulder and cradled her head in his hand. Carefully, he rolled her on to her back. Her face was pale, as if all the blood had been leeched away. Her body was limp in his hands. An unerring sense of déjà vu overwhelmed him.

“Elizabeth.”

She moaned and rolled her head to the side.

“Thank God,” he whispered and without thinking, stroked her cheek. Emotions whirlpooled inside him. With a shuddering breath, he wrestled for control and finally won.

Her eyes opened and struggled to focus.

“Are you all right?” he asked, clenching his fist to keep from caressing her.

She brought a shaky hand to her forehead and groaned. “Professor?”

He scanned her for injuries. Her pupils reacted to the light. That was a good sign. And she seemed to be coming around. “Are you hurt?”

She squinted up at him, grunting a little as she struggled to prop herself up.

“I’m okay, I think. Except for one hell of a headache.”

“It’ll pass soon,” he lied. He felt worse than before. His own head pounded. He wasn’t one to offer false comforts and did his best to ignore the fact that he’d done just that.

She glanced at their bizarre surroundings and shook her head, trying to clear it. “What the heck was in that wine?”

Ignoring her joke, he looked anxiously around the alley and then back to her. They were alone. For now. “Can you stand?”

She nodded and took the hand he offered. He watched her carefully. She swayed a bit and he reached out to steady her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

She wobbled and gripped his forearm. “Maybe I should sit down,” she suggested.

Tightening his hold, he put an arm around her back to support her as he helped her make her way to a pile of wooden crates stacked beside a metal door. She sat down heavily, and immediately bent forward at the waist, dropping her head between her knees. For a moment, he thought she might topple over completely and put an arm around her waist to keep her from pitching forward.

“Miss West?” He didn’t want to hover, but he couldn’t help himself. Was she concussed? Should he even have let her move?

Elizabeth turned her head and peered up at him through her hair, and then with a grunt slowly worked herself back into sitting up straight.

“I’m fine,” she said as she looked up into his face. Her pale skin flushed pink. “I’m all right.”

Slowly, more reluctantly than he wanted to admit, he moved his arm from her back. He wasn’t quite ready to let go completely, so he held her arm tightly in his grasp.

“Take your time.”

She gave him a wan smile and nodded. “I’m okay,” she said and then seemed to notice where they were for the first time. “I think. Where are we?”

“I’m not sure,” he said as he glanced around the alley.

“This is definitely not your living room.”

Simon laughed softly, relieved that she at least still had her sense of humor. “It’s good to see your powers of observation are still intact.”

She offered him a wry smile, but it faded as she twisted on her seat and turned to take in all that she could. “This isn’t even Southern California. At least no part I’ve ever seen.”

She was right. The architecture, what he could see of it, was completely wrong. Not to mention the smell of coal thick in the air. A shrill, odd-sounding car horn blared around the alley’s corner. And like the proverbial cat whose curiosity would always get the better of it, Elizabeth stood and started toward the mouth of the alley.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Simon asked.

“Having a look around. We’re not going to figure out where we are just standing here.”

He didn’t know what bothered him more. That she was so willing to wander off into God knows what, or that she was right.

“Hang about,” he said and hurried to catch up.

He grabbed her arm again, and she rolled her eyes. Petulant he could deal with. Out of his sight, he couldn’t. “Were you or were you not about to pass out a mere two minutes ago?”

She narrowed her eyes at him but relented enough to convince him that she was not going to run out into the open. He edged in front of her, just at the corner of the building.

His blood pressure rose as he braced himself for what was to come. If whomever had brought them here was still nearby, he had to be ready. But, as he peered around the corner, it wasn’t some mystery assailant he saw. It was something else entirely. His mind raced to process what his eyes saw, but the disconnect was too great. What on earth?

After a long steady silence Elizabeth, who had crept up next to him, said in a soft voice filled with the same confusion he felt, “Tell me that isn’t a…I must be hallucinating. Tell me you don’t see what I see.”

“A Model T?”

And not just one. A mass of tall, long, rectangular shaped cars trundled past. Simon took an unsteady step backwards. Where in God’s name were they?

“I was really hoping for hallucinating.”

The cacophony was nearly deafening. High-pitched horns wailed up and down the endless street. A horse whinnied and reared, its hooves scraping the pavement. A sea of people, all talking at once, surged on the sidewalk in front of them. Men in suits and fedoras, women in vintage dresses walked by. A large horse-drawn cart clattered over the pavement. The clothing, the conveyances, everything was out of place. Or were they the ones out of place? The thought made his headache pound that much harder.

Elizabeth nodded to herself, as if she’d pieced the whole thing together, but her eyes were a little desperate. “We’re on a set. They must be making a movie.”

Simon had a terrible sinking feeling. He tugged on her arm.

“Miss West,” he said, urging her to follow his lead and pulled her back into the alley. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

She rubbed her forehead. “Being in your living room,” she said, blinking rapidly as she searched for more memories. “Looking at your grandfather’s things and then the watch went all higgledy-piggledy.”

Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He raked both hands through his hair, stopping at his temples as if that could somehow keep his head form exploding. Something tickled the back of his mind, and he turned on his heel and looked down the length of the alley.

The watch. It was absurd. But…could it be, he thought?

In his single-minded concern for Elizabeth, he’d completely forgotten about it. He moved back down the alley and scoured the pavement until he found the timepiece only a few feet from where he’d regained consciousness. Gripping the case tightly, he carefully opened it. His eyes darted over the complex dials—times, dates…coordinates.

“Impossible,” he said softly, trying to accept the unthinkable. The stories his grandfather had told him, what his own eyes had just seen…”Time travel isn’t—”

Elizabeth appeared at his side. “Are you thinking that…thing brought us here?”

He looked at her uncertainly. It was mad. His grandfather’s watch a time travel device? And yet….

“I’m not sure,” he said finally, running his fingers along the embossed edge.

Her eyes flashed with worry. “Be careful with it.”

“I’m not an imbecile, Miss West,” he bit out.

“No offense, but I’m not looking for a repeat performance of…whatever that was.”

Neither was he. He knew the answer to all his questions lay in the watch. The strange dials that had been a mystery before now began to coalesce into a semblance of reason. If one could call it that. Simon’s head was spinning, and not just from the damnable headache that wouldn’t go away. It was insane. Absolutely insane to even consider, and yet….

He looked back toward the mouth of the alley, trying to make the pieces of what had happened fit together. Simon pulled a slow hand down over his mouth and scrubbed at his chin and he put the pieces, however impossible they seemed, into place.

Was it truly possible that all of the stories his grandfather had told him weren’t stories at all? The destruction of Pompeii, a night at Valley Forge, the War of the Roses. Dear God. Had he actually been there?

Elizabeth leaned in to get a better look at the watch, her body brushing against his. “What’s going on, Professor?”

How could he expect her to believe what he could hardly comprehend himself?

She gripped his arm, and forced him to look at her. Her blue eyes, usually filled with confidence, danced nervously across his face. “What happened to us? Where are we?”

He tried to quell his growing sense of panic and keep his voice calm and detached. “It’s not so much where we are, but when.”

She shook her head. “What do you mean when?”

He did some quick calculations. “Judging from the cars and style of dress, we appear to be in the late twenties.”

“Twenties? As in Nineteen Twenties? You can’t be serious.”