Travel Glasses (The Call to Search Everywhen, #1)

Chapter 4 The Time

DESPITE MY confusion and horror, my feet obediently pressed forward. I fled past the dock, through the rocky area that would become the new picnic grounds and halfway around the border of the lake. I gasped. Valcas was already there with the yellow and black Jet Ski, waiting for me.

“Calla, you must get on here now! It’s after you. I’ve been tracking it for months and, as I anticipated, it came back here tonight.”

I glanced in the direction of Uncle Al’s cottage and took a few steps backward. How could I trust him? He could have explained all of this during dinner instead of ignoring me while I felt awkward and stupid.

“I can’t. Thank you for dinner, but I—”

A flash of bright white light knocked me down to the ground. This time the impact tore through skin and clothing. Blood seeped through the knees of my tights. I stood up and teetered.

“Calla, we need to leave here.”

I limped over to where Valcas was waiting and waded until I was close enough to mount the Jet Ski. The cold water numbed my scraped knees. I settled in behind him.

“Keep your head down,” he said as we sped off.

ANOTHER FLASH of bright light filled the sky and everything else around us. I expected to be hit and thrown off of the Jet Ski, but there was no impact. The light was also more intense, forcing me not only to keep my head down but to close my eyes. After a few moments I no longer heard the whirr of the Jet Ski’s engine.

I lifted my head and looked around. My jaw dropped. We were no longer in the enclosed, man-made Lake Winston. Water stretched out in rippling waves in each direction as far as I could see. A breeze lifting off of the water smelled brackish. Seawater. My feet rested against wooden boards of a weathered yellow and black. I was still clutching onto the back of Valcas, who was positioned in a slightly different way than when I’d first boarded the watercraft. He swayed forward and backward. Self-consciously, I let go of him and positioned myself farther back. He rowed with both arms. The Jet Ski was gone. We were on a small rowboat.

Trembling, but deeply curious, I asked, “Where are we going and how did you—”

“Almost there,” Valcas interrupted, short of breath.

“Where are you taking me? Are you kidnapping or helping me?” I resisted the urge to punch him or push him away for fear that I would fall backward into the water.

“We’re going somewhere safer… for now.”

Within minutes land became visible across the water. The shore was expansive, a mainland rather than an island. After much bobbing and sloshing, we eventually reached the shore. Valcas helped me out of the boat and then, as if he knew exactly where we were, he led me to a shelter dug out of a hill, a sod house covered in moss. I paced outside, my hands tightly hugging my ribs. As the sun went down a warm glow radiated from within the sod shelter and lured me inside.

The structure was windowless with an open doorway. From the inside a worn canvas sheet hung like a curtain across the opening. The single room was wide and shallow with a ceiling that sloped toward the back of the shelter. Valcas tended a fire at a crude fireplace built into a vented corner. He worked quickly in a squatted position as he tossed and re-tossed the embers. When he looked up, the flickering flames and smoldering charcoal reflected in the dark glasses he was still wearing.

I let out a long, slow breath as I scanned the rest of the room. It was clear from the dust that no one had occupied it for a very long time. A wooden table stood in the center of the room, flanked by two rough benches. There was a bowl and a pair of tin mugs covered in cobwebs atop the table. Rolls of sleeping bags, shrink-wrapped spools of tape and gauze, mismatched pots and pans, several boxes of tea, a wooden pipe and additional tin mugs were neatly arranged on shelves made of earth.

Valcas was more relaxed now than he’d been all evening. Smiling, he offered me a dusty sleeping bag. “You are welcome to stay in here tonight. I will be outside.” He looked down at my knees and his smile faded. “I’m sorry about that. You get hurt every time I’m near you. I can’t promise it won’t happen again.”

“That thing that you’re tracking.” I gulped. “You warned that it was after me. I guess you were right.”

“You run well,” Valcas called out as he picked up another dusty sleeping bag and turned to leave the room. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Leaping toward him, I grasped his jacket before he could exit the shelter. Did he really mean to leave me alone so soon after what had just happened without giving me an explanation? My questions came out in rapid fire. “What’s going on? What are you searching for? How does all of this involve me? And, how can you see in here with those things still on your face?” I pointed to his sunglasses. “It’s even darker outside.”

Valcas froze at my touch. “I need your help too, actually.”

“My help? For what? My uncle will be crazy with worry when I don’t come home tonight. Do you have a phone on you?” I asked, thinking of my own phone covered in dust. “I only brought some cash and the house key.”

“I apologize, Calla, but there are no telephones here. The year is 1812.” His voice was pained.

My fingers sprang loose, freeing his jacket from their grip.