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Authors: Frank Peretti

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BOOK: The Legend of Annie Murphy
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The lift rocked crazily, and they grabbed the safety railings to steady themselves.

“We'd better find it soon if we're going to find it at all,” Mac warned.

“It has to be here!” Dr. Cooper insisted, searching the cliffs.

The judge glared at Deputy Hatch with cold, hate-filled eyes. “Regardless of what you think you may have found, you still have nothing but the word of a convicted murderess.”

The deputy shook his head. “I have more than that. I have tobacco spittle on the rooftop across the street, a witness who heard gunshots coming from that rooftop, a prisoner in my jail who knows how you rigged the trial, plenty of people who've already seen Annie's carvings, another gun just like Cyrus's . . . and this!”

Deputy Hatch stepped over to the window and threw the curtains open.

“Got it!” said Dr. Cooper, pointing. “Just above that dark fissure, about one o'clock.”

The kids were amazed but not surprised as they looked at the image in the early light of dawn. They could hear a low, murmured curse from the judge behind them.

Deputy Hatch looked back at the judge, smiling with deep satisfaction. “Sheriff Potter always was a lover of chewing tobacco . . . and a very good marksman.”

The judge rose to his feet and gazed out the window, his jaw dropping open.

The kids could see it plainly and knew the judge could see it too: a carving of Sheriff Dustin Potter looking right back through the window, sighting down the barrel of a revolver—a .40 caliber revolver just like the one Deputy Hatch had found.

“Right after Mrs. Crackerby saw Annie's ghost in this room,” Hatch explained, “I came up here to have a look, took the trouble to look out the window, and there it was. Needless to say, it got me thinking. I figured there had to be more carvings like this one, and I was right.”

“Your hunch was correct,” said Mac, his voice hushed with awe. “Annie carved Cyrus from the killer's point of view.”

“And the killer from Cyrus's point of view.”

POW!
A gunshot rang out. There was a loud
PING!
as a bullet hit the steel railing. They instinctively dropped to the platform.

POW–ZINNNNNG!
Another shot ricocheted off the corner of the steel platform.

“The sheriff,” Mac concluded.

“He's onto us,” said Cooper.

Deputy Hatch looked once again toward the carving beyond the mercantile. “So I'd say all the pieces are coming together against you, Judge, and some of the testimony is even carved in stone. You—”

POW!
A flash of fire exploded from a gun in the judge's hand. Deputy Hatch hit the wall from the impact of the bullet.

The judge was obviously proud of himself. “Never turn your back on your adversary, Deputy!”

The kids stood by the window. The judge stood between them and the door.

They chose the window, tumbling out onto a small roof. From there it would be a big drop to the ground.

“You won't get away from me!” the judge was hollering, his voice rising in pitch.

The roof felt strangely soft under their feet. The soles of their shoes were sinking through the shingles. They swung over the edge of the roof and dangled from the gutter. Their hands slipped through the fading wood and their bodies dropped slowly—too slowly—to the ground. They landed softly in a flower bed and leaped out onto the lawn, trying to run. The ground felt like water under their feet. They were moving in slow motion, pulling desperately for every stride.

ZINNNNNG!
A bullet whistled by their heads.

BOOOOOOOM!
The slow sound of a gunshot rumbled behind them. They could see the judge bursting from his front door, yelling, aiming the gun.

“Where'd he get the gun?” Mac wondered.

“Must have been hiding another one,” Dr. Cooper remarked.

PANG!
Another shot hit the bottom of the platform, and a small dent poked upward.

The lift was swaying crazily now as gravity lurched and heaved at them from several directions.

Dr. Cooper estimated the angle of the shots.

“He's to the left, perhaps twenty feet from the base.”

“Are we that high right now?”

Dr. Cooper liked Mac's suggestion. “High enough.”

They grabbed the siderails and began to throw their weight back and forth, making the lift sway even more.

Dr. Cooper caught a quick glimpse over the side.

“I've got him, right below us!”

They could feel the next gravitational wave coming and timed their rocking accordingly. They pulled, shifted their weight this way then that way, back and forth.

The wave hit. They rolled their bodies to one side, pulling on the rails.

The lift tilted, teetered for a moment on two wheels, and then began to topple like a big tower. The sheriff quit shooting and ran to get clear. The ground was coming up fast.

“Oohhhh,” Dr. Cooper hollered as the wind whistled by them, “this is going to hurt!”

They leaped from the platform right before it crashed to the ground in a cloud of dust. Mac rolled in some soft dirt and came up unharmed.

Dr. Cooper landed on Sheriff Potter and they both went down, grappling, wrestling. Potter still had the gun in his hand.

Mac leaped on Potter as well, grabbing for the gun.

The ground lurched. The sheriff turned to vapor and slipped out of their grasp. They spun around, groping to find him.

He was standing over them, solid a moment, ghostlike a moment, wavering, flickering, aiming the gun at them.

“Be careful!” Cooper cautioned. “If you fire that gun you could hit someone in the past!”

“Just as long as I hit
you!
” the sheriff responded, aiming and ready to fire again.

Time stabilized for a moment. Jay and Lila could finally run full speed—but so could the judge.

“What do we do now?” Lila called to her brother as they ran up a wooden sidewalk with the judge hot on their heels.

“The weeping woman!” Jay gasped. “One arm . . . one arm not finished. Annie never finished it!”

Lila understood. “But how do we know she'll be there?”

Jay had no answer and no time to offer one. Another bullet whizzed by. “Quick! That alley!”

The alley led to some back streets with places to hide, cover from bullets, and perhaps a route back to cemetery hill—but they would have to cross the open street to get there.

A wagon pulled by a team of horses came up the street on an early morning delivery. As it passed by, they leaped into the street just behind it.

Good. It came between them and the judge long enough for them to reach the alley.

Lila stopped in front of a large rain barrel to look back.

The judge fired another shot just as gravity tilted.

The town faded—
   The bullet thudded into the rain barrel behind her back, releasing a stream of water.

The town became solid again. Jay grabbed her and they ran up the alley. They had to get to cemetery hill!

Gravity was swirling and lurching so much that Sheriff Potter could barely stand, much less remain solid and visible. He could hardly aim the gun.

Dr. Cooper and Mac took full advantage of that and managed to pounce on him, sometimes holding him, sometimes passing right through him. It was like trying to capture a shadow.

He became solid. Dr. Cooper grabbed his arm; Mac grabbed his leg; Dr. Cooper hit him in the jaw. He faded again and got loose.

“This isn't working!” Dr. Cooper despaired.

“The cemetery!” said Mac. “Run for it!”

Dr. Cooper didn't need to hear another word. He took off running, Mac followed, and the sheriff gave chase.

“Act scared,” said Dr. Cooper. “It might help.”

“Who's acting?” Mac retorted.

They ran through the ruins as one more shot rang out and a bullet nicked Dr. Cooper's ear.

“He's very good,” said Dr. Cooper, touching his ear and finding blood on his fingers.

“And very solid, unfortunately,” Mac responded.

They made it to the edge of town and started up the hill. It was a tough climb and the sheriff, still on flat ground, was catching up easily by just walking fast. He reached into his coat pocket for more bullets and reloaded the small revolver in his hand.

“Oh nuts,” said Cooper. “He has more bullets.”

The kids raced down a back road, through a yard, over a fence, and around a house, then into the open street again. Cemetery hill was just ahead of them.

A hay wagon came around the corner. No! They couldn't wait for it to pass! They dashed forward as the horses bore down on them, praying for just one extra second of time.

They got it. Time wiggled, the horses slowed down, the kids sped up, the kids got to the other side of the street just as the horses thundered past.

Jay and Lila started up the hill. They could see the judge coming across the street, smiling at them with nasty confidence, reloading his gun. They were much younger than he was and should be able to outrun him up the hill.

Oh no. Time was warping again. They were slowing down, floating in slow motion, pulling for every stride, while the judge was moving briskly along, coming closer.

Time stabilized and the ground became still as Dr. Cooper and Mac reached the top of the hill and ran to Cyrus Murphy's grave. They stood there, panting for breath, looking desperately in all directions.

“She's not here,” Mac said between huffs.

“She has to be,” said Dr. Cooper. “She has to be here. The weeping woman was her last carving!”

But Annie Murphy was nowhere to be seen. The sheriff appeared over the edge of the hill, his gun in his hand and the cold look of a killer in his eyes.

The world of 1885 became solid again as the kids reached Cyrus Murphy's grave. They were huffing and puffing and looking for Annie.

They didn't see her.

“She's got to be here!” Jay cried.

Lila moaned and pointed toward the cliffs. “Jay!

She's been here already!”

He looked and his heart sank. The carving of the weeping woman was visible in the morning light. Annie had been there, had carved it, and was gone.

“No . . .” Jay groaned. “We couldn't have missed her! Oh dear Lord, no!”

Then came a voice behind them. “That's right, boy. Better say a prayer!” It was the judge, breathing hard from the climb but quite solid and deadly. He raised the gun. “Because it's time to finish this business!”

As Dr. Cooper and Mac stood directly on Cyrus Murphy's grave, the sheriff approached with gun in hand, snickering at them. “So you figured it all out, did you? Then you understand how I can't go back. And I can't let you live either.”

On the morning of June 9, 1885, Jay and Lila stood on the grave of Cyrus Murphy and watched helplessly as Judge Amos Crackerby stood directly north of them and aimed his gun.

On the evening of June 11, a century later, Dr. Cooper and Richard MacPherson stood on Cyrus Murphy's grave as Sheriff Dustin Potter stood directly south of them and aimed his gun.

Jay quickly stood in front of his sister, blocking her body with his own. But in that instant, out of the corner of her eye, Lila saw a flash of blue behind a large tombstone. She recognized a long blue dress and flowing red hair.
Annie's been hiding!
Lila thought.

The ground quivered. Potter squeezed the trigger.

The ground quivered. The judge squeezed the trigger. The weird, wavering image of the woman in blue leaped toward the kids, hands outstretched. She touched them—

FLASH! WHOOOSH!

Dr. Cooper and Mac were suddenly crowded by two other bodies in dusty, dirty clothes. They stumbled sideways, trying to remain standing as time crashed and rippled around them, gravity swirled, and the earth whirled like a cockeyed carousel.

Two gunshots! They sounded far away, from opposite directions.

Dr. Cooper looked south, and through a quivering, waving window in time saw Sheriff Potter doubled over, wounded.

Jay and Lila were dazed, disoriented, caught up in a whirlwind of colors and sensations. They seemed to be surrounded by the bodies of two big men. To the north, Judge Crackerby's image waved and rippled as if they were looking at him from below the surface of a pond. He was staggering, tottering, holding his abdomen as if wounded. He began to fall toward them, falling in slow motion . . . slowly . . . slowly . . .

Dr. Cooper and Mac saw the sheriff fall toward them ever so slowly, like the slowest slow motion film. . . .

OOF!
Jay, Lila, Dr. Cooper, and Mac landed on the solid, unshaking ground in the evening of June 11, a tangle of four bodies who still didn't know what hit them. They didn't even realize they were all together in one place in one time.

But they all saw the same thing at the same time only a few feet away—the wavering, fluctuating image of Annie Murphy standing where her gravestone had been, watching two men fall at her feet. At first she seemed horrified.

Then she grew calm and sighed a deep sigh of relief. She looked up at them, a look of deep gratitude on her face, and mouthed,
Thank you.

And then, as the earth gave one more tiny tremble, her image flickered out like a candle flame in a puff of wind.

She was gone.

It was quiet. The earth, time, and space had ceased their struggle.

Dr. Cooper touched his daughter and found that she was real. Then his son. Then they embraced as tears filled their eyes.

EPILOGUE

A
round a campfire in the ebbing light of June 11, Dr. Cooper and his children consulted with each other and with Professor Richard MacPherson on what had happened and why.

“You see what I mean?” said Mac. “History can't be changed, so everything worked out the way it was supposed to.”

“But tell me the truth, Mac,” said Dr. Cooper as he applied a small bandage to his ear. “Didn't you have just the slightest doubt about your theory when old Potter was aiming his gun between your eyes?”

BOOK: The Legend of Annie Murphy
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