Chapter Twenty-Three

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Ryan and Reb hurried toward the yelling, getting to Aadita at the same time as Jake and Harley.

"Where's Eric?" Reb asked.

"What's going on?" Eric flew out of Dodge's caboose and jumped down the stairs.

Without giving an answer, Aadita led the group back to their initial point of ingress. Their pace was frantic, the flashing light growing brighter by the second. They shoved past workers moving to and fro, disregarding their questioning gazes.

Ryan reached the wooden door first, flinging it open. They ran inside, one after the other.

Shifting was never a pleasant experience, shifting while running was even less desirable. From the moment they entered the building, they felt like their insides were being pulled in all directions.

The phenomenon lasted less than a minute, and the group was once again unceremoniously dropped onto the hard floor of the Smith House lounge-room.

Jake slowly opened his eyes. He looked down, spying his own arms wrapped tightly around his sister. She lifted her head and opened her eyes, instantly jerking away from him and taking her own space on the floor.

A hand reached out, tapping them all on the head.

"Who's doing that?" Ryan slapped the hand away.

"Sorry," Eric said. "I was doing a headcount. We're all here."

The group laid in a heap on the floor, trying to catch their breaths.


Aadita moved about the lounge-room and dining area, cleaning up the birthday party leftovers.

"So we didn't change anything?" Reb asked Harley, who was poised over her laptop.

Harley shook her head. "I don't think so." She moved to the side, allowing Eric to peer over her shoulder.

"Dodge survived the construction, the tracks joined at Promontory, and it was completed in 1869," Eric read the screen. "Looks right to me."

"I'll tell ya something, I'll never complain about our buses and trains again." Ryan plopped down on the couch, lifting his feet up to rest on the coffee table.

Jake came into the house, an empty backpack in his hand.

"Did you do it?" Harley asked

Jake nodded. "Yep. All 1860's American West clothes are now part of the university's drama wardrobe."

"And no one saw you?" Harley asked.

"Umm...well.." Jake stammered, "There was someone, and...."

Ryan waved his hand impatiently. "Spit it out boy."

"I said I made them, OK. I panicked."

Their laughter filled the house.

"Oh! I found it!" Harley bounced up and down on her milk-carton chair. Jake thankful she took their attention away from him.

"Found what?" Ryan asked, her excitement not enough to bring him over.

"The photo the reporter took of Eric the Surveyor-man."

The moment the words were out of Harley's mouth, everyone was crowding her to get a look.

"Well...I guess that's one thing to show the grandkids," Jake joked, clapping him on the back.

THE END

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