Stranger Times

My companion lets go of his oar, and breathes a sigh of relief. "That was the worst of it," he says, as he hands me a flashlight. "Keep an eye out for anyone else. We'll give them five minutes."

"Five minutes?" I ask.

"Three minutes without oxygen, and the brain suffers irreversible damage. Few people can hold their breath for more than two minutes. Anyone who doesn't pop up before then is beyond our help." The stranger replies, still as serene as if he were just describing the weather.

We turn our lights and scan the rumbling waters as air bubbles keep dribbling up out of the water. As the minutes roll on, the bubbles come up less frequently, until the stranger glances at his watch and shakes his head.

"It's time. Let's get to shore."

"Shore?" I ask him. "We're in the middle of the Mediterranean! It would take a week to find shore, and I can't tell which way to row because the fucking stars make no sense!"

"We're actually about an hour from shore," the stranger replies, pointing up into the air. "See that?"

Passing the moon, I see the silhouette of a bird.

No. Not a bird.

The wings are long, pointed, and tapered in a way I've never seen before. The beak was freakishly long, and unless that creature is a lot closer than I think, it's too big to be a bird.

"Pterodactyl," the stranger says, and he sounds like he actually expects his answer to be comforting. "Big critter like that won't be doing long distance flights. We're close to shore."

"What?" I ask. "Dinosaur?"

"Think about it. The Stars have changed. We have dinosaurs. Time travel makes more sense than the galaxy rearranging itself. Now shut up and start rowing. If you need water, just scoop some up from the side."

"That's salt water!" I protest.

"No, it's not. Pangea. The Mediterranean is a lake." The stranger replies. I swear he's smiling.
I don't believe him, so I take one of the cups out of our emergency supplies, and test the water. It's clean, absurdly so, and quite possibly the best water I've ever tasted.

Holy shit.

I don't say anything as we row to shore, and we pass the next hour in silence. By the time we reach shore and pull the boat in, I'm ready to lie down on the beach and sleep, but my companion hauls me up the shore and hands me a blanket.

"Catch some rest. I'll wake you up in a few hours."

Exhausted and numb, I don't argue with him as I find a tree and lay the blanket down beneath it, wrapping it around myself. I start to lay my head back, blink, and...

The sun is up. Well up. Blessedly, I can't see the stars anymore.

I look over, to see the stranger standing over a pit, holding a small phone in his hands. Instinctively, I pat my pocket, and notice my smartphone is gone.

I run over just as the stranger drops the phone into the pit.

"What the hell?" I scream at him. My hands are in fists, and I stare at his bearded, oddly familiar face as I wind up and swing at him.

His bemused grin never even flickers, as he leans his head slightly and dodges my wild blow. I overextend myself, and my stomach erupts in pain.

I clutch at my side and fall to my knees, just as I realize the stranger had hit me.

"Think. This is Pangea, about three hundred million years ago. Can you imagine the kind of panic it would cause if someone found an iPhone beside a prehistoric fossil?" the stranger asked, pointing into the pit.

The pit was absurdly hot. I could barely lean forward to look at the remains of my phone melting into the coals in the pit.

"It's thermite," stranger says, as if that somehow explains everything. He stands, and hands me an unwrapped granola bar.

I take a bite, and stretch my aching abs. "You're a dick. So, what now?"

"We head up the hill, and I explain a few things."

The stranger starts away. I follow quickly, trying to keep up. "You're not going to put that fire out, or fill up the hole?"

"We're three hundred million years away from grass huts. I'm not worried." The stranger says, with a short bark of a laugh. He sighs then, and adds, "for a while, I thought this was a dream."

"I know what you mean."

"Not yet." The stranger says, cryptically. "But look. I know just enough about what happened to get you back. Whatever jumped us back here has a residual influence just up that hill, and it will jump you forward in time. But you need to know a few things."

"You don't make any sense!" I exclaim.

"That's for the best," he replies. "Just remember that certain fabrics weren't invented until the eighties, including what your shirt is made of. Other than that, you should be fine when you get back."

The stranger looks away from me, to the trees off in the distance. The grin finally fades. "Finish that granola bar, and drink some water. You have a lot of running to do, and you're going to waste energy doing something stupid soon."

"Okay," I reply, and take a deep drink from the cup of water he's holding out to me. I chew the granola bar for a minute, until he nods.

"The thing you need to remember, is the cruise ship didn't sink itself," the stranger said, and there's a flicker of pain that passes over his face.

Before I can think of it, my hands are around his throat and I have him pinned to the ground. I'm squeezing hard, screaming, and all I can see is his face contorted in pain, as he slaps at my hand and points.

"Why?" I ask, still not relenting until he crack me in the nose, hard enough that my vision goes blurry and I roll away.

"You don't have time for me to explain," he says, between gasps. He staggers to his knees, and points over to the trees.

In the distance, I can see something. It stands on two legs, with stubby, short arms, and a mouth that looks like nothing but teeth.

"Run for the top of the hill," the stranger says. "You'll find your way back."

"What about you?"

"I don't know how this part ends." The stranger says, as he pulls a long knife out of his belt. Strangely, the blade doesn't gleam like metal. "Run. You'll make it."

I stop arguing and take off, sparing only a single glance back as the creature charges at the stranger.

I run as fast as I can, throwing myself up the shallow hill until I reach the top, and stop to look around again.

Nothing changed.

Furious and terrified, I turn around, and slip.

A blink of an eye later, my eyes start to focus on yellow incandescent light, and I can just make out the smiling face of a middle aged man wearing a white coat, with a lit cigarette in his mouth.

"Ah, good. You're back with us!" he says.

I sit up slowly, and look around. Windows, lights, floor, bed. All these things make sense. I feel the bandages around my head, and my nose still feels rather tender. Real.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Park rangers found you in a ravine. Mostly okay, but it looks like you bumped your head," he says. "Not a lot of ID on you, but they found your passport in your pocket. Never heard of whoever made your jeans."

"Can I see that passport?" I ask.

He hands it to me wordlessly.

The photo is of me, with a bit more of a beard, with a slightly crooked nose and a grey fedora. The date of issue: 1976