Saving Yesterday (TimeShifters Book 1) (23 page)

In an effort to make the least amount of noise possible, I step heel to toe and head to the river. At least, I think I do. Last night, I stumbled to it right away. I’m walking in the same straight line I think I followed then, but I guess not. Closing my eyes, I hope to sharpen my senses. Where is the water? If those stupid birds would take a breath, I might be able to hear something. I tilt my head, turn in a slow circle. Then—right there—the distinct gargle of a stream. Odd, how things can seem different by night.

The river skips over a pile of boulders here. I sit on a dry outcrop. Plunging the bottle into the water, I try to remember how many drops of iodine Michael told me a container this big needed. The water has to be treated before we can drink it. He explained all about typhoid and dysentery and how people aren’t clean in this time period. Really, it was a lovely conversation. Okay, I’m lying. I wish I hadn’t been there. A spinal tap might have been more fun. Now I’m terrified of all water. Which I’m sure was his whole point.

I squint at the bottle of iodine. Directions on the label would be nice. More is always better. Right? I take the eyedropper from the iodine. Fill it up four separate times and dump the liquid into the water. Place the bottle on a nearby rock. Now just wait thirty minutes and I’m set.

It’s hard to tell thirty minutes without a watch, though. If there are suggestion boxes at Keleusma, I’m going to fill out a comment card. Wardrobe needs to get on inventing a watch that’ll work no matter where you are. Come on, they can make clothing, bags, and shoes that trick the Norms. How difficult can a watch really be?

   I wrap my arms around my knees and gaze down at the ever changing stream. Watch a broken twig sail down the rapids. Basically zone out.

Last night, Michael asked me if I knew my worth, but the real question is—does he know his? His father dead before his eyes, carrying the weight of the accident that killed Kayla, then add his mother’s abandonment. How does he smile so much? See good in the world? The truth is, Michael’s far more special than I will ever be.

Even when it comes to me, he’s more patient than anyone should be. His ready laugh alone leaves me feeling more positive about life than usual. I’m starting to grin even thinking about him.

Wait. Do I have feelings for Michael Pace?

I let go of my knees. Snap my eyes back into focus. No. It’s not possible. I mean, we haven’t known each other long. That’s not how I work. I have to really know someone to feel such a strong attachment. Or do I? It’s not like I’ve been in love before.

Maybe I’m just confused. Michael’s always there for me. He sacrifices for me and thinks of me first. No one else has ever done that for me. He makes me smile and offers constant encouragement. His presence makes me feel safe without him even saying anything.

Okay, that’s all fine and good. But we also fight like two hound dogs over the last scrap of meat. I’ve never had an urge to shake someone as many times as that thought hits me about Michael. Then again, I’ve also never felt the need to protect someone like I do Michael.

Oh. I cover my face with my hands.

He’s my Obi-Wan. You don’t fall for your trainer. Besides, I don’t
know
him. There, that’s settled. I cross my arms, but I can’t help the smile that tickles its way over my lips again, or the light haze floating in my head.

Concentrate on something else already. Like hurting feet. We walked too much yesterday. I bet a wade into the stream will help sooth them. I tug off my shoes and peel off socks that have seen better days. Sigh as I dip my feet into the frigid water. This is why we treat the water. Because gross people like me dangle their nasty appendages in the stream. I close my eyes for a few minutes and tip my head back to catch the sun. The contrast of coolness on my feet and warmth baking my cheeks is perfect.

 Finally I determine that thirty minutes must have passed. I take my feet out of the water, shaking off the droplets. I’m in the midst of dabbing off my damp skin when I see the two inch scar near my big toe. I outline the raised skin with my finger. That scar’s from a time when Porter and I were both trying to ride one bike together. He peddled, and I held my feet to the side. My foot ended up tangled in the back wheel. Ripped through the skin clear to the bone. I screamed loud enough to make Porter jump off the bike. After letting it, and me, clatter to the ground, he ran home to get my dad. I stayed on the curb howling, my foot still stuck.

I hold my thumb over the scar.
Porter.

I bite back a moan. It’s not fair. Even if Michael doesn’t have a Pairing anymore, I do. I can’t care about Michael, at least, not in that way. That’s how this all works, right? Does Porter feel for me the way Dad loves my mom? I swallow hard.

Besides, after all the insight Michael gave me about my mother last night, I need to follow the rules from here on out. Prove I’m nothing like her, and that the rest of the Shifters can trust me. Rejecting the Pairing won’t go well for me. It can’t happen.

No boat rocking whatsoever.

After a very deep breath, I lace my shoes and start back to Michael. But again, I can’t remember the way. Why do trees have to look the same? Can’t one be crooked or weepy? A simple landmark, really, I’m not asking for much. I march up the stream a ways. This looks like the spot I came through last night. But I can’t be certain.

A moment later, I hear talking. Michael doesn’t talk to himself, so ... who is it?

Curiosity takes control of my movements. I wade through the water and crawl up the opposite bank. There’s a narrow dirt road on the other side which looks like it leads to a clearing. I skirt a pile of horse manure. A horde of flies buzz around it. Fresh.

Lowering my center of gravity, I follow the sound of a few men laughing. There’s a large copse of berry shrubs right in front of me. Inch by inch, I work my way into them. Their thorny security systems prick me, but I bite my lip and duck further in.

Six feet away, several Confederate soldiers lounge near a spent fire. My hands shudder a little. Adrenaline. One man leans back on his elbows, adjacent to where I hide. His boots are off, and his toes peek through the holes in his worn socks. Hopefully, even if he spots me, I can get a good lead.

Sterling’s long hair is unmistakable. Unfortunately, his boots are still on. Rats. Now if I’m spotted, I’m in for trouble.

Afraid the colored water bottle will be easy to spot, I hug it to my chest. They were
this
close to finding us last night. Correction. They are still a stone’s throw to discovering where we are. One more careless minute at the river and they might have stumbled upon me.

I have to get back to Michael. Warn him. Get us out of here.

“No need to feed him.” Sterling’s voice rattles through me. I brace myself with a palm to the ground.

I adjust to get a better view. A soldier stands near a type of carriage I’ve never seen before. Not that I’m a carriage expert, but it looks like a jail cell on wheels. Okay, what I imagine a jail cell looks like. It’s a black box attached to a horse. The back door has a padlock and bars. A man’s pale hands hang out of them. Well, that or a woman with baseball mitts for hands.

“If you say so.” The soldier near the caged carriage tosses a pan of food to the ground and stomps away. That’s when I see him. Pinkerton. They’ve captured him.

“Soldiers on his side burned my whole village to the ground and slaughtered every pig from my barn so my family wouldn’t have food to eat. He can go a day without food.”

Creeping backwards, I hold my breath. Berry juice and bristles slash across my upper arms.

One of the soldiers stands up. “Did anyone else hear something?”

“Sounded like a raccoon in the bushes. Go check it out.”

The man tugs on his shoes.

I back away as quickly as possible. Once I’m by the stream, I jump the three feet of water. Almost going right back to our camp, but I stop. What if they spotted me? If I’m being followed, I can’t lead them directly to Michael. Not that I know the right way, but I know for sure our camp isn’t further up the river. Turning in the opposite direction, I stick to the curves and bends the water has carved in the earth. I walk for a good ten minutes and then stop. If someone followed me, I’d know by now.

Any mist from this morning has dissipated in the heat of the risen sun. It’s going to be another stifling day. If Michael’s awake, he’s more than likely thirsty. Beyond that, he’ll wonder where I am. Rather than let him go searching for me, I’d better make my way to our camp now.

Leaving the stream’s trail, I circle back through the woods. A heartbeat later, I come close to falling into a jagged ravine, wobbling on the edge for a minute, arms and water bottle flailing. Breathe. Wow, glad we didn’t run across one of those last night. There wasn’t a slope or anything to hint of danger. Keeping an eye out for more, I press on. It is Tennessee, after all.

It takes me a few minutes to reach a narrow space in the ravine. I hop to the other side. Where’s that idiot mockingbird when I need him to sing me back? Our camp must be this way. It has to be near. Sure enough, as if I suddenly have some inner compass, I’m there. Michael stands a few feet away, his back to me.

“Michael!” I almost plow into him.

He twists around, smiling like he’s five and it’s Christmas morning. “You’re here.” He catches me in a hug. He crushes me to his chest, and his lips are right under my ear. “I thought you freaked out. After that talk last night. I thought you just took off on me.”

He’s squeezing hard enough to steal the air from my lungs. I squirm from his hold. Thrust the water bottle between us. “Drink up. You have to be dying of thirst.”

“Thanks.” He tips the canteen in a salute, takes a sip. Nose wrinkling, and eyes scrunching, he looks like he smells a skunk.

Oh, no. I lace my fingers together, feigning innocence. “Too much iodine?”

Hitting himself in the chest, he coughs twice. “You could say that.”

“Sorry, guess I’m not perfect.” I try to snatch the bottle from him, but he lifts it out of reach.

“I know.” He winks. “I heard you snoring last night.”

My hands pop to my hips. “I do not snore.”

“You do.” He takes another swig of the water and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. “But don’t worry. It’s real soft. Cute.”

No one is cute when they snore. I’m about to argue, until I remember my pact not to engage with him. Remember the Pairing.

When he kneels to shove the canteen in his bag, he’s right at eye level with my arms. He hand hovers above the bag, not zipping it. First his eyebrows lower. Then he reaches for my closest wrist. “Why do you have—”

I slip both arms behind my back.

Standing, he puts his hands on my shoulders. Keeping eye contact the whole time, he tip-toes his fingers down my arms until he can grasp my hands, which he tugs from their hiding spot. “You’re all scratched up.”

“I fought some bear for his share of berries.” I smirk.

He rolls his eyes.

Right. I did have something to tell him, but once again, his easy banter has thrown me off course. “We need to get out of here. The Confederates are right across the river.” I point in the general direction.

The smile on his face melts. His hands tighten around mine for a second. “They’re right there? Did they see you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then let’s put some distance between them and us.” He jerks the bag off the ground, slings it over his shoulder, and holds his hand out to me.

“We can’t. They have Pinkerton.”

His eyes widen. I probably should have started our whole conversation with that little piece of information. If he hadn’t gone and hugged me, I would have remembered to.

“I don’t know.” He hesitates, which makes no sense at all. This is the guy who ran down Wall Street knowing a bomb would deploy any moment. At Keleusma he begged to come back on this mission.

I toss my hands into the air. “Come on. There isn’t anything to think about. We were sent to rescue Pinkerton. So we’re going to go over there and rescue him.”

Rubbing his temples, his jaw twitches. “There’s always a choice. We can pick not to do it. To walk away from this right now. A shift will happen eventually.”

“What’s the matter with you?”

“All right.” Taking off his bag, he tries to hand it to me. “I’ll go over there. You wait here. No matter how long I take. Stay hidden until I come back.”

I push the backpack away. “No way. We’re in this together.”

“Gabby, please.”

“Maybe I should go without you.” It’s a bluff, but I spin on my heels anyway.

He snags my elbow before I can take a step. “Not going to happen.”

“Fine.” I brush his hand off my arm. Blow my bangs out of my eyes. “Then we go together.”

His gaze ping-pongs from tree to tree as he brushes his thumb back and forth across his bottom lip. “It’s dangerous.”

“We’re Shifters. Doesn’t that basically come with the territory?” Okay, now he’s bugging me. If he wastes one more minute considering our options, I’m going to sprint away. He’ll never catch me.

“I guess. But I never thought about it—the danger.” His gaze locks on me, caressing over my face. From this short distance I see his Adam’s apple bob. “Not until now.”

I skirt my eyes from his. “Well. You picked an awful time to go soft.” I grab his hand and tow him as I weave my way to the stream. This time I get there right away. We jump to the other side. I swivel toward Michael and press my finger to my lips.

Side by side, we sneak up to the bush again. Peek through the thinner places. The Confederates all seem to be dozing. Didn’t Sterling say that was their plan? Sleep during the day and travel by night? It’s smart actually. No one should travel in this heat.

Michael lays his hand over mine. I look at him and he raises his eyebrows. Moving closer, he leans his head so his mouth is near my ear. “Stay here.”

I flip my hand over, clutching his so he can’t move. Make my eyes big. Silently ask him what he’s doing.

He mouths the word ‘horse,’ and points to the horse from Hunt House. The animal stands on the edge of the camp. Tethered to a tree maybe six yards from where we crouch.