Folios/v7/Time-landscape-2019/MS-160
Matthew had almost succeeded in pushing the injured man onto the bank by the time Katy made it down the hill.
“Matthew!” she cried out, her words inaudible over the sounds of battle and the rush of water. She dropped down on the bank, grabbing the injured soldier and heaving him the rest of the way onto dry land. He was a Highlander. His tall, fluffy bearskin tilted to the side and was damp and seeping water.
“Matthew, we need to get out of here,” she said.
Matthew struggled up onto the bank. Before he could reply, someone fired at them.
Katy knocked him down, and threw herself on top of him. This was it: he was going to get shot. She had to stop it, even if she was hit herself.
“Katy!” he cried out, trying to squirm out of her grasp, but she held on fast. She couldn’t let him die.
> ALERT: Time-landscape 1854 in imminent danger of timing out
Katy gasped for breath, the panic rising in her as if she were drowning, and then suddenly the Highlander was covering them both, hiding them in the dark safe space below his body. She had no idea why he had decided to sacrifice himself, but she gritted her teeth and closed her eyes as the shots increased. The soldier above them was shaking. Warm liquid dripped down onto her face. He was crying out, writhing as the impacts shook him, and then it was suddenly silent and Katy stared into Matthew’s eyes. The Highlander had saved them; he had saved them both.
Matthew was alive, staring at her with horror and panic and disbelief, and quiet filled every corner of her mind. She couldn’t remember how to breathe or think or do anything except close her eyes and clasp the relief that he was alive, that she didn’t have to watch him die again like at the cathedral. He was still here; he was still hers.
It was then that the memories came, opened up inside her as if they’d always been there. All it had taken was a brush with death to remind her of them. They blossomed in her mind in vivid stains, and she remembered everything – and Matthew was everything and she loved him and always had.
She had done this before. She had held Matthew’s blood-soaked body and gasped for breath through her tears. It wasn’t just déjà vu, because she remembered it so clearly, like it had happened only the day before. But that was impossible.
She could see it all with perfect clarity, their previous lives together. Her vision went black and she blinked away the blur of her tears. The world came back into focus, new and different.
> Time merging has reached 100% completion in time–landscape 1854
> It is highly unlikely that these subjects will achieve their objective, considering this hazardous landscape
With blood pouring from the wound to his chest, Matthew stood still long enough that Katherine had the sudden hope that his injury wasn’t serious, that it was going to be fine, he would be all right. And then all at once he fell to the floor, as if his strings had been cut. There was a deafening silence.
The soldier who had shot at Durand and hit Matthew by mistake dropped his musket and stepped back in horror. Katherine pushed her way, shakily, through the crowd, her legs on the verge of collapsing beneath her.
“Everyone get back!” a soldier called. “Give her privacy.” Suddenly the cathedral was clear of everyone except Matthew, Durand and Katherine.
Katherine couldn’t believe this was happening. She dropped to the floor beside Matthew, pulling him onto her lap.
“Matthew!” she cried, her voice sounding hollow.
His head fell back on her shoulder. “I love you.”
She closed her eyes, pressed her cheek against his. “I love you too, Matthew. Please, please don’t go.”
Durand was standing near by. He was covered in Matthew’s blood.
“Please don’t surrender,” Matthew begged him. “You can’t. Please, you need to hold fast. Promise me.”
Durand nodded, face white. “Nobody else will die – I promise.”
Matthew turned back to Katherine, running his eyes over her face like he was memorizing her features. “Katherine, please look after – Anise for me. Please.”
She nodded and tried to force a smile, as she watched the light fade from his eyes. A resigned stillness was sweeping through his body. Everything was blurring before her. She blinked away tears as she stroked the hair out of his eyes. He didn’t blink, and she realized it was because he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“I love you,” he mouthed, and then he closed his eyes, and didn’t open them again, even when she begged him not to leave her. She wept great racking sobs that tore from her chest and shook his lifeless body. She couldn’t stop. Her voice was a rough choke and her cheeks burnt from the salt of her tears.
> Subject allocation “MATTHEW” timed out
> Intervention in progress
> Mission failure
> Searching for the closest match
> … searching …
> Male match found in adjacent space thread
> Transferring male candidate
> File loading …
He gasped. Matthew’s eyes fluttered open and he focused on her, breathing hard.
“Matthew?” she asked, heart in her throat. He had died – she had watched him die – but here he was, alive in her arms. She could feel his heart stuttering as his chest pressed against hers.
“K–Ka—” he choked, coughing up blood. He cleared his throat. “Katy? You died… What’s happening?”
She stared at him in shock as he struggled to stand. There was no rip in his clothing, and no wound on his chest.
Katy was standing on the riverbank in the midst of the Crimean battle, with the dead Highlander at her feet, and she remembered everything – every moment throughout history that she and Matthew had been together and then been torn apart. She couldn’t fathom how she’d ever forgotten it. It was so obvious and clear, including the way Matthew had come back when he had died in 1745. Panic rose inside her, and then arms were wrapped around her, pulling her back to reality.
“It’s all right,” Matthew murmured. “You’re safe – it’s over. I’m here.”
“You died,” she bit out, shuddering against him, and he brushed a hand down her spine.
“Not this time. You’ve got me – it’s all right. I’m fine.”
“Do you remember? Please – tell me you remember too, that it’s not just me. Tell me that I’m not going mad or…!”
“I remember.” His voice was quiet. “I died. I was shot. In the cathedral. I remember.”
She sighed, felt steadied, and pulled herself back together. She could do this. Matthew was with her, and all her imaginings were real, but they were going to be all right, so long as they got out of danger now.
“We need to run,” Matthew said as though reading her mind. “As fast as we can. Can you do that, Katy?”
“Yes.”
“One, two, three,” he murmured, and then Matthew was pulling her along and away from the river and the battle to where the air was clear and the ground wasn’t soaked in blood.
She paused, orienting herself. They headed towards a stone outhouse. Inside, it was empty. Dust had settled over everything like in a long-deserted tomb. She barricaded the door behind them and then dropped to the floor with a sigh of relief.
Matthew was safe. He was alive.
> Time-landscape 1854 out of danger
> Threats still remain
> Surveillance will continue until subjects are safe
Inside CSL, Kate and Matt stared silently at the small metal sign that labelled the office as belonging to K. GALLOWAY, JUNIOR RESEARCHER. For once Kate couldn’t think of anything to say – not even a trace of witty banter.
She had been here before.
She knew she had, except she definitely hadn’t.
Either she was going crazy or something else was going on. She opened her mouth to ask Matt if he was feeling the same way, but the words wouldn’t come out. She couldn’t say something that would make her sound insane.
Matt twisted the handle and pushed the door open with a long creak. The sun had set and the room beyond was dark except for their narrow torch beams. Dust motes floated as they disturbed the air.
Kate’s gaze was focused absolutely on the cardigan on the back of the desk chair. It had faded to a pale cream from the force of twenty years of sunlight, but the knitted pattern was still obvious in the fabric. She brushed her hand over it, feeling the threads beneath her fingertips. Her breath caught. This was Katherine’s. She had been right here, working in this very room: emailing flirtatious comments to her husband, writing lab reports, worrying about the bacteria, shrugging off her cardigan and leaving it behind at the end of a busy day.
She forced herself to look away, to where Matt was pulling open the desk drawers.
“There’s nothing here,” Matt said.
Kate peered over his shoulder. The drawers and filing cabinets were all empty.
“Someone must have destroyed all their work after they were killed,” Kate said.
They looked at each other, horrified. Their whole trip had been for nothing. There was nothing in the room that told them anything more about the death of the woman who had signed the documents they had read.
“Matthew’s office should be near by,” Matt said, trying to be optimistic. “There might still be something there.”
“Wait,” Kate said. She gently wrapped a fox ornament from the desk in the cardigan and then put both of them in her rucksack.
When they found Matthew’s office, the door was locked. Sighing wearily, like a man preparing himself for imminent death, Matt rammed the door with his shoulder to try and break the lock. Surprisingly, it was successful.
“Wow. I thought that only worked in films,” she commented as he rubbed his shoulder gingerly.
“I think it was a pretty cheap lock. It’s only an office door,” he said. “God, that hurt so much more than I thought it would.”
“Matt, you delicate flower, this was your chance to show me how much of a man you are. Why are you spoiling it?”
He grinned. “After you, my dear.”
It was a wreck inside. Papers were scattered everywhere, along with the splintered remains of a desk and chair. Worst of all, there were dark black stains on the walls. Kate drew in a horrified breath. They were unmistakably blood splatters.
“Matt…”
He took her hand. “I guess this is where it happened, then.”
Kate closed her eyes, feeling dizzy. She could picture the moment they had died, so vividly. She felt sick. “This is where we – they – died. They really were shot.”