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September 8th, 2002 Chickadee County, NY
ANYA tried to think as she gazed out the window of their hired car as it sailed along the interstate in the dark—she didn’t have a plan, yet, but if she were going to accomplish the impossible, she should be well prepared. Theoretically, it simply couldn’t be done. But Anya was none too strong on time-travel theory anyway. She was a practical woman, and looking at the problem from her perspective, changing history would be difficult. Even though it was her own personal history, and she knew well enough what needed to be altered.
They had left New York City far behind, and all Anya saw out the window were the red tail-lights of other vehicles heading north and the bright spots of white speeding past that were people headed in the other direction. Anya would soon be home—not her real home, far in the future, but the house just outside the town of Little Piece in Chickadee County, in this early part of the third millennium.
Her attention was drawn to Nye, who was shifting in her seat and checking her watch. Nye looked up at Anya. “It’s ten thirty-five. The others ought to be long gone—if it actually worked.”
Anya sighed. Sitting quietly next to her with his round red face and bald pate, Tate would’ve left her to her thoughts. He knew visiting the city made her mindful of tragedy—between memories of the professor’s accident and 9/11 she didn’t know why she kept putting herself through it. But if she was going to do what she was contemplating, she’d have to return to the city a few more times. She’d just have to be strong.
But nothing could keep Nye silent for long. Anya gave in and checked her leader watch, scrolling to the locator screen where she saw two white blips in the center, representing Tate and Nye. And nothing else. “There’s no red bar to indicate any other Travel devices, in any direction. They’ve all left the present. Page and Turner aren’t with us anymore.” Or Matt or Verity, but they were natives of this age, and that was different.
Anya had tried to reunite the time-travelers, after they’d all been scattered and separated on their initial arrival in the past, but she’d found only a few of her fellow researchers. And now she’d lost half of those she’d gathered back together. The entire expedition had fallen apart from the start and now the pieces were falling through her fingers as everyone went their own way.
She’d hoped that young Matt, however brilliant he might be for a contemporary, would be unable to fix the professor’s master Travel device, which had been smashed in the accident.
Nye nodded. “So it did work, at least partially. If it worked correctly, then they’re now ten years in the future.”
Anya smiled. It wasn’t often that she got to correct Nye. “They were aiming for June first, twenty twelve. Not quite ten years.” And tomorrow morning Anya would be taking these two to next summer. “I suppose as soon as we’re in two thousand three, you’ll be heading back into the city to continue your research?”
The girl stared back with that blank expression on her face, her eyes wide behind those giant glasses of hers. “Of course. What else would I be doing?”
“Well, I’m not going to be staying in the city all summer with you, so there’ll be no one to supervise you and your work.”
“Page was always too absorbed in her research to pay any attention to what I was doing—not that I acknowledge that I need any supervision—and Turner was too absorbed in Verity. I managed.”
Anya shook her head. “But at least Page and the rest were right there to help, if you had gotten yourself into trouble. Next summer no one will be there to come to your aid.” Anya paused and considered. “Although I will come and check up on you now and then.” That would give her an excuse to go into the city to make preparations.
Once they’d arrived in two thousand three, Anya would still have weeks to plan before she passed the three-year limit, to be able to make the journey in one trip. After that she could still try, but multiple trips would only add unnecessary complications and create more room for error—not the best notion when she had no idea what the consequences would be if she were to succeed in changing the past. She didn’t like to think what might happen if she failed to save the professor.
All her memories of John were in the future except for that one—the heart-breaking moment when his life had been cut short just at what should have been the beginning of his greatest work, the culmination of decades of effort. They’d all arrived in the summer of the year two thousand, but the professor had materialized in the middle of a busy street. And Anya hadn’t been able to do anything, just watch in horror as a black SUV struck and killed him.
She glanced over at Tate. “It’s certainly been an uneventful summer. For a change.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
She smiled at him. “Well, we definitely needed the rest.” After all the adventures they’d had on first arriving in the past, then coping with so many unexpected difficulties, there’d been the frisson of living in the middle of history. And then 9/11.
Tate must’ve been thinking of the aftermath of that attack. “You pushed yourself too hard, Leader. Maybe it would’ve been better if you had not volunteered at all.”
Anya shook her head. “I couldn’t help as much as I wanted, but I had to do what I could.” Not being a nurse anymore, that hadn’t been much more than handing out water bottles and helping clean up debris and giving people a shoulder to cry on.
“I would’ve thought you’d seen enough horrors already for one lifetime. With what you had to work in the middle of, back in the future.”
Indeed, that was why she’d given up nursing to become a historian. Then she’d ended up as part of the professor’s research expedition into the past only to encounter more tragedy.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have come into the city to celebrate. It’s almost the one year anniversary, and the memory remains raw.” Even more so for them, as it had only been four months ago.
Tate shook his head. “That’s why we should rejoice all the more when we have reason. And I think getting those two young people properly hitched before they got into trouble was a good cause for celebration.”
“Turner used to be a preacher, so he would have made that relationship right before it went too far—anyway, we celebrated that enough at the reception yesterday.” Anya smiled at the memory. “The ceremony was good, even if it was rather small. And at least Mr. Hollingsworth was able to attend.”
Nye interjected. “He’s our lawyer, and you pay him enough that he should show up when you want him. Anyway, it was a Saturday. He probably didn’t have any work to do.”
“He’s earned every penny we paid him. He got me out of jail, and since he got you out of that mental hospital, I’d have hoped you’d be grateful.”
“He was just doing his job. Besides, I was gathering some interesting information in there. They’d have had to let me out before long anyway.”
Anya sniffed. “Only if you could convince them you weren’t crazy. And Mr. Hollingsworth came because he likes us—he stayed for the reception, didn’t he?” And after that smorgasbord, they’d all gone to the house in Chickadee for a fabulous feast for dinner. Except for the newlyweds, who’d been left behind at their hotel suite. Anya turned to Tate. “We celebrated Turner and Verity’s tying the knot more than enough yesterday.” They’d stuffed themselves with Italian tonight, to the point where Anya wasn’t sure she’d be able to get out of the car.
Tate shook his head. “So what do we say tonight was for?”
As if Anya needed an excuse to pig out. “Besides needing to get well away from the others while they Traveled, so we wouldn’t be dragged along? We had the end of the summer to celebrate.” They certainly weren’t rejoicing at being left behind.
“And next summer to look forward to.”
“Just the two of us? You heard Nye say she’ll be headed straight back to the city. With the rest gone on to the future, that means you and me on our own for the next nine summers. I appreciate your companionship, Tate, but I can’t say I’m exactly looking forward to not having the others around.”
“That’s just what this summer was. The two of us at the house in Chickadee, and the rest spending all their time in the city. What’s different now?”
If he didn’t understand it, Anya couldn’t explain—there was a big difference between the others being an hour’s drive away in the city and ten years in the future. Unreachable. Except for Nye of course, but that girl was inaccessible in another way.
The feel of the car slowing down made her look out the window again, but it was too dark to see—in the country, the night was much blacker. She could feel the car turn off the paved road though, and start trundling down the dirt lane that led to their house. Soon she saw the porch light glaring.
The car eased to a halt. The driver came around and opened the door for her, and Anya climbed out with a weary sigh. Then she took a deep breath and smiled at him. “Thank you, Ralph. We won’t need you again until next summer.” And she slipped him his usual twenty-dollar tip.
Tate exited on the other side and walked around to stand next to her as she stopped and stared at the house—while Nye bounded past them to the porch. Light seeped from cracks in the living room curtains but the rest was dark. Anya gave Ralph a brief wave as he turned the car around, then waited for the tail-lights to recede before looking back at Tate.
“It’s empty. They’re gone.” How can an empty house be home?
“Maybe. But instead of ten years in the future, they might be waiting for us in three years’ time, or even in next summer.”
Anya shook her head. “Or they could be a hundred years in the future or the past for all we know, or have any way of finding out. I never should’ve let them go.”
Though Page refused to accept that she was Anya’s responsibility, and Matt never really had been, Anya would always consider them her charges, and Turner too, whatever compromise she’d agreed upon—Verity as well, now they were married. But they had all gone their own way, and Anya felt helpless to keep them from drifting out of her care—she should never have gotten out of the habit of giving orders. They wouldn’t even listen to her advice anymore.
Tate nodded. “But I don’t think we should worry about them. We have our own work to do, which is plenty enough even if we aren’t going to be supervising Nye in the city. And there’s taking care of the house and the garden. You enjoy that.”
Anya smiled at him. “I know we’ll keep busy—and Nye can always call us for help if she needs it.” Or Mr. Hollingsworth, and learn to appreciate him more. “But the others can’t call for help.”
Tate watched Nye pacing back and forth across the porch. “It will be peaceful.”
“And bicycling around the neighborhood to talk to people—it will help us work off all this food we’ve been eating.”
She could start exercising by climbing those few shallow steps up onto the porch. Tate lumbered up after her. She unlocked the front door, and Nye ran into the narrow hall and up the stairs. Anya walked into the house at a more sedate pace.
Turning on more lights only made the place feel even emptier. Peaceful it might be, but the idea of spending one summer after another doing the same routine research—Anya knew she would not be content with that. But starting tomorrow with a hearty breakfast would help.
It might be different to truly take the slow path and live like a native, become a part of the community. Maybe then she could find something more to do than just the research, something that would really satisfy her—but before she could consider a step like that, she had to at least try to go back and save the professor. Though she knew it was reckless.
She knew she shouldn’t even be thinking about it—maybe she would come to her senses and give up the idea altogether, but she doubted it. She was going to break the rules and not leave her past alone.