Timewatch (35 page)

“He'll kill us!” Devonna shrieked in his ear. She was struggling with him now, and the boat was rocking from side to side. The necklace she was wearing broke suddenly, spilling the amber beads into the boat.

Something snapped in J.J. He stopped struggling and looked around as though he'd just been someone awakened from a dream. He could still feel the pull of Mabon's voice, but the pull was growing weaker.

Mabon could sense it, too, for suddenly the tingling in his body stopped.

“Let's get out of here
now,
Breandan!”

Then a figure in armor darted out of the trees and began running full tilt down the beach. He was into the water before they knew what was happening.
A soldier!
Mabon hadn't been taking any chances about losing him. He would have lured him back with his hypnotic technique and then have had the Roman kill him.

Breandan was hauling away like a maniac on some ropes. The boat was slowly coming around, the wind finally catching the sail, while Devonna was screaming curses at the soldier, who had drawn his sword and was plunging through the water, up to his waist now in the surf. Then the Roman suddenly stopped, took out a dagger, and threw it straight at him. Devonna pushed J.J. down, lost her balance, and fell on top of him, while Breandan yelled gleeful obscenities about the soldier's origin.

Rough planks bruised J.J.'s back. The wind was knocked out of him. He could only lie there while Devonna fussed over him. Her hair tickled his face, and he wanted to sneeze.

His awareness began drifting out of his body. But he didn't want to leave Devonna, his girl, no, Bran's.

She seemed to sense something happening because she quieted down, shifting her weight so that he could barely feel her there. He stared into her eyes, wanting to tell her that he didn't want to leave her, but it was too late, it was all over, and he was out of there, being booted into another dimension and, oh, was he really going home?

CHAPTER 48

By the time nightfall came, Dan could see huge fires burning. The sacred groves had been fired. It was a spectacular sight, thick plumes of smoke rising from the tall stands of trees as flames ran up the branches and exploded into fiery geysers of orange and red.

At least the screaming had long since stopped. Seutonius and his men must have things fairly well under control by now. Some of the men were already marching back, tired and hungry from the day's work. They were laughing and talking as though nothing had happened. But the joking and horseplay was a hyper kind of thing, a relief at having escaped death one more time.

“You missed all the action,” said Catus, digging a hard elbow into Dan's ribs. Dan had never seen a guy who looked so lean: his nose and chin, even his head looked as though someone had drawn out his flesh like those characters painted by that Spanish artist. “And you should see what Marcus got.”

Ignoring the sour look Catus threw at him, Marcus opened his leather pouch and drew out a tube of finely engraved gold.

“Must be worth a fortune,” said Dan.

Without thinking, he stretched out his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Marcus let him hold it.

The neckpiece felt heavy and cool. Then it was as though a hidden flame inside the golden tube began to heat it up until he could hardly bear to touch it. At the same time, the faces of the men around him began to blur and recede as though he were moving away from them on a high-speed train. The shift in time was happening once again. Where was he going next? He only had a brief moment to think, I hope Lucius lives to get his farm and a pension before he was caught up in a maelstrom of energy that seemed to turn his guts inside out.

CHAPTER 49

It was the first time in his life that Caleb remembered being truly afraid. It wasn't that he minded dying so much, he told himself. After all, he'd lived a long and full life. But it was
how
he was probably going to die that bothered him.

He had thought that after J.J. had saved the life of Captain Church, the timeline would have stabilized after Church had gone on to successfully defend the colonists in New England against Indian attacks. Apparently, something had gone wrong, because obviously Count Frontenac's troops from New France to the north
had
conquered New England.

That meant that in this new 20th-century timeline without the help of America, the French had been powerless to stop the rise of Germany. According to the memories of Klaus Braun, the body of the German soldier he was now in, Germany had not only swept through France in 1940 but had gone on to conquer Britain in 1941.

If that were the case, what could he, Caleb, do about anything?

Not a whole lot. What he'd seen briefly in the few hours he'd been here had appalled him.

Although they didn't know it yet, the New Englanders were a conquered race. They'd find out soon, especially after the Germans unleashed their little surprise.

The street they were driving down was the main thoroughfare in what, under other circumstances, he would have thought was a picturesque little village. Now, except for squads of marching soldiers and a few military vehicles, it was almost deserted.

The captain who had given them their orders had been brief and to the point. “Men, you've heard a lot of rumors about the ultimate weapon. Soon you will see that whatever you heard couldn't come close to what it's really like.”

He was a big brute, wearing a captain's insignia on a uniform not unlike that of the Nazis, although in this timeline it was green, with a boxy cut to it. He had that same kind of arrogance that made you want to take him down a peg or two—not that he'd dare. A few days before, Caleb had seen a man being punished for insubordination. They'd stood him up against a wall in the town square and shot him. The message was plain: follow orders.

“You will leave your post here and move in close to the strike zone. After the weapon is deployed, you will commence mopping up the area. Any questions?”

The rest of the squad were staring into space. They were probably too scared to speak up. But damned if he'd go into this thing without at least getting some information.

“Sir, what kind of weapon is this?”

The captain's eyes had all the warmth of a reptile's. “You'll find out later. Dismissed.”

No one moved a muscle until the captain marched off.

After they'd climbed into the trucks, which would take them to the area, a skinny soldier sitting beside him muttered, “You took a big chance, Klaus. It's not smart to get on Kreuger's bad side.”

“You mean he has a good side?”

“Depends.”

“What do you mean?”

“Aw, nuthin'. Except if you know what he likes, and can give it to him, he knows how to show appreciation. You know what I mean?”

Caleb looked more closely at the young man—Siggy, they called him.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“Hey, somethin' bothering you? You been acting kinda funny today.”

When Caleb didn't answer, Siggy went on, “Why you so worried about this mission? Like Kreuger told me yesterday, it's gonna save a lotta lives because after this the New Englanders won't have the stomach to fight any more. You'd a thought after we took Britain that they'd be sensible and give up, but not these colonials.”

“What else did your good buddy tell you?” All Caleb's pent-up frustration was roiling around in him. He longed to smash the face of the little weasel beside him.

“What's got into you, Klaus?” asked Siggy, staring at him with a hurt expression on his face.

Caleb forced himself to relax. “I don't know. Maybe being away from home too long.”

Siggy rubbed a downy cheek. “Yah, I know what you mean. I miss my family, too.”

He didn't say anything after that, leaving Caleb to watch the scenery. It wasn't especially memorable, just mile after mile of small farms interspersed with villages.

But where were the people? Driving through the deserted countryside gave him a creepy feeling. It was as though the colonists knew that something was about to happen and had gone underground. The soldiers fell quiet and began looking around uneasily.

On the outskirts of a town the trucks came to a halt, and they were told to get out.

“Clear the building,” ordered the captain, pointing to a low brick building on which hung a sign, “Gull Inn.”

Grabbing his weapon, which looked like an early model rifle, Caleb jumped out of the truck with the rest of them.

Siggy was fairly bursting with excitement. Gone was his timidity. In its place was a dangerous elation that showed in the brightness of his eyes and his alert posture. “Stick by me,” he whispered confidently as he began running toward the inn.

Within five minutes they'd taken the place. There had been no opposition, only the innkeeper and his family, a still-attractive middle-aged woman and their two plain-looking teenage daughters, who were told to prepare accommodations for the soldiers.

It was hot and rather humid. A breeze bearing the salty tang of the nearby ocean tickled Caleb's face. Judging from the rooms he'd glimpsed in the inn, air-conditioning hadn't been invented yet. He heard the captain nearby talking in a low voice to someone over a radio.

A commotion near the trucks made him look up. The captain was shouting something at them.

“C'mon! We gotta go!” shouted Siggy.

“Why?”

“Some trouble at the base. Damned colonials tried to sabotage our airplanes.”

I don't want to go, thought Caleb in desperation, but how am I going to get out of it? If they think I'm shirking my duty, they'll shoot me! Reluctantly, he climbed back into the truck.

Sweat began trickling down his neck, right between his shoulder blades. His uniform was itchy at his groin and under his armpits, although it was too big elsewhere on his thin body.

Siggy seemed immune to all discomfort. He was unrelentingly cheerful, keeping up a steady stream of chatter that began to give Caleb a headache.

“ … delphia a few times.”

“What? What did you say?”

“I said I went there once. Lots of pretty girls.”

“Where?”

“Philadelphia.”

“That's the town that's going to be destroyed?”

Siggy looked at him with a sober expression. “I guess it doesn't matter now if you know. You won't tell it was me who told you?”

“No, no.”

Caleb stared blindly at the narrow road. So the City of Brotherly Love was slated for extinction. For the first time in his adult life, he felt totally helpless. Here he was, in the body of the enemy, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Then why was he here? There was no way he could help the Americans. All he could do was to stay alive and try not to kill any of them.

He did have some fence mending to do with Siggy. For the next 15 minutes he set himself to drawing out the man. It wasn't hard to do. Siggy was curiously innocent and trusting. Within a few minutes he had dropped his guard with Caleb and was chattering freely with him in a low voice.

“So, Siggy, what're you going to do after the war's over?”

His answer was surprising. “I'd like to get a piece of land here and set up a carpentry shop. They'll need builders, and I'm a really good carpenter. I like building things.”

“Why not go back to Germany, where your family is?”

Siggy was quiet, his hands scrubbing away at each other. “They … they don't like people like me there,” he whispered. “I'm afraid they'll take me away like they did the Jews in their resettlement program. You hear things …”

“What about your good buddy, Kreuger? Wouldn't he protect you?”

In a burst of strong feeling, Siggy said, “He told me not to expect anything, that we'll be together for only a little while. He'll cover his ass and leave me to cover mine.”

“A real jerk.”

Siggy shook his head. “He's been good to me, and he's fair with the men. Smart, too.”

“Even if he is a stickler for discipline?”

Siggy shrugged. “He's not as bad as some. Now you take General Takamoto. I've heard he has men whipped to death for the slightest little thing. After the war, I'm gonna make sure I stay out of Japanese territory.”

“Between them and us, I guess the world will be all carved up.”

Siggy grinned. “Maybe not,” he said.

“Well, who else is there? The Spanish, or maybe the French?”

Siggy guffawed. “They couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag.” He leaned over and gave Caleb a conspiratorial look. “Kreuger says that soon, now that the Japanese have done a lot of the dirty work for us, we'll conquer
them.
”

“Why would Germany turn on them? Isn't there enough territory for both nations?”

“That's not the point. They're Oriental. You don't want non-Aryans running the world.”

“No, I guess not.” Caleb felt sick to his stomach. It was the same old racist crap.

The trucks slowed and then came to a stop near what was obviously an airfield. A heavy pall of smoke lay over the twisted wreckage of what looked like burning planes. Lying crumpled on the ground were half a dozen bodies—the colonials, his countrymen.

“Attention! You men will guard the area. No one goes in or out without proper clearance. Any foul-ups …” Kreuger paused and glared at the men. No one needed to have it spelled out. They all knew what would happen if they screwed up.

Without talking, the men positioned themselves around the one still-serviceable airplane. Ten minutes later, five men, dressed in what he recognized (from the information contained within his host body) as air force uniforms, climbed aboard the plane. A few minutes later, the plane was climbing steadily upward, headed toward Philadelphia. An almost physical pain tore at Caleb's gut. They were going to destroy the city!