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CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Let him go! Or I’ll shoot you all dead!” My heart stops. I know that voice.
The crowd is shrieking, no longer in rage but in terror. “It’s the devil himself! Those same eyes! The demons have come to murder us!”
I shake the bag off my head. It is Bud!I can’t believe it! “Bud!” I shout. New tears—of excitement, of desperation—spill from my eyes.
Bud points his automatic rifle straight up in the air and fires three rounds, lowers it and points it at the crowd. “All of you! Back! Now!”
He moves through the crowd aiming in the direction of everyone he passes. They shrink back, obviously too terrified to confront the armed Devil.
“You!” He gestures at the Reaper with the rifle. “Come down here!”
The Reaper hurries down the steps looking as terrified as the rest of the townspeople. Bud climbs the steps and comes over to me but keeps the rifle aimed at the frozen crowd.
“Bud!” I stammer. “I couldn’t remember the chant!”
“You couldn’t have chosen something a little more peaceful? I don’t know… like maybe the ’60s?” he asks sarcastically while he unties my hands.
“We will not allow this abomination!” Magistrate Howland suddenly roars, with a dark, shadowy look of death in his eyes. “The devil shall never hold power over our people!” He raises his arm and points at us. “In the name of Our Lord, attack!”
The crowd stampedes toward us. The men form a circle around the base of the platform pedestal and begin shaking and kicking them. The piercing screams of the women cheering them on fill my ears with anger, hate, fear. I feel the planks shaking. Moments later, the shaking makes me lose my footing. I almost fall off but manage to grab the rope, which is still dangling from the tree. I almost lose my grip. I can feel my hands blistering as I dangle in the air clutching at it and my grip slips from it. I dangle in the air, kicking frantically until I somehow manage to wedge one foot into loop. Then I use my other foot to help me swing my body from side to side like a pendulum until I reach a nearby branch. I wrap my arms around it so tightly that I’m afraid it’ll snap in half.
But where’s Bud? I crane around and see that he’s still firmly on his feet, pointing the rifle in every direction to keep the mob intimidated. But he doesn’t shoot.
“Bud!” I shout. “Shoot!”
“I can’t! You know the rules!”
“They’re going to kill us! We’ll die!”
A woman struggles through the front of the crowd, picks up a rock, and aims it at him.
“Watch out!” I scream.
He wheels around just in time but loses his balance and half-falls off the platform.
“No!” I shriek.
He’s clutching at the edge of the platform where three men are trying to pull him down.
I let go of the branch and let myself fall to the ground. I land on my back a few feet from the platform.
Bud shouts and I hear a loud thud. I finally jump to my feet. He’s on the ground in the middle of the mob. I can’t see if he’s moving.
“Leave him alone!” I yell, but I’m helpless. I’m too far away, and they’re closing in on him like greedy vultures.
Magistrate Howland grabs Bud’s rifle and aims it at me. “To your knees, demon!” he shouts.
My heart stops.
“We are not demons! Please! Spare us!” I beg, but something slams into the back of my head. Hard. And everything goes black.
* * *
When I come to, I’m enveloped in a cloud of smoke that’s growing thicker by the second. The back of my head is throbbing and as I start to choke, I realize that Bud and I are slumped on the platform—tied together back to back with the same rope that would have snapped my neck.
Below us the crowd is still jeering and chanting, “Burn! Burn, demons! Burn!”
They’re burning us alive.
“Bud!” I shout, wriggling around desperately. “Bud!”
But he’s unconscious, a dead weight against my back. I see the flames that have already engulfed the edges of the platform inching closer by the second. The smoke is getting so dense that the crowd is turning into a nightmare of shifting shadows. The fire is sucking away all the air. I can hardly breathe, the sweat dripping in waves. I heave myself over onto my side, bringing Bud’s weight with me and praying that the sudden, violent motion will rouse him. After a moment, he lets out a grunt of pain.
“Bud! Wake up!” I shout.
“What’s… happening?” he mutters, and starts coughing uncontrollably.
“We need to go! Now! They’re burning us alive!”
His eyes shoot open. He stares at the inferno around us. The dry planks are about to burst into full flame. “Hurry! Repeat after me! ‘Take me home to what is mine. Back to the present, back to my time.’”
He vanishes and the rope loosens around me. The crowd roars louder. The fire is almost at my feet. I can’t waste another moment. “Take me home to what is mine, Back to the present, back to my time—”
Again, we’re in my room. Just as I had left it. The same dolphin paintings. My God, I never thought I’d be so happy to see them! From now on, they’re priceless as far as I’m concerned.
Bud’s slumped on the floor rubbing the side of his head.
I crouch next to him. “I’m sorry!” I stammer. “I don’t know what happened! I couldn’t remember the words! And I was so scared! Her body hanging there—and I knew I was next—“. I’m mortified. “I messed up so badly—”
He coughs and wipes his mouth with his hand, then rubs the black smoke smudges onto his shirt. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed, Gavin! Killed!”
“I know! I’m sorry! It won’t happen again! I promise!
“Photo traveling is no joke! What did we tell you? You’re lucky your grandmother fell asleep early! You would’ve killed her from how scared she would’ve been for you!”
I can’t even look him in the eyes.
He eyes me, then pats me on the back. “Get some rest,” he says gently. “You’ve got school in the morning.” He hauls himself to his feet and is limping to the door when I realize—but they told me they couldn’t travel anymore.
“Wait!” I call out.
He turns back to me. He looks exhausted. His eyes are a fiery red. It’s not the right time. I can’t put him through anything else right now. I’ve done enough already. “Nothing. I just want to thank you again. I mean it.”
He sighs, and I hear what an effort it is for him to breathe. “I would die before I lose you again, Gavin.” He closes the door behind him.
I stand there all alone staring at my blistered palms. The physical pain is nothing compared to my boiling rage at myself for how reckless I’ve been. I shove my books off the bed and jump under my covers. The hell with showering. I turn on the TV. I’ve got to try to forget what’s actually just happened, that I almost got us both killed. But I can’t stop the moments from replaying in my mind.
My head is burning hot. I can’t tell if it’s mental or just my body reacting to the trauma I’ve just lived through. My eyes are stinging, too. Not sure if it’s the CO2 from all the smoke, but I can’t resist the urge to close them. Maybe the tears will wash away the traces of resins from in the logs. I fight the exhaustion, sit up, force my lids open, but my body is beyond my control.
Still, But as start drifting off, I remember... the initials on the wooden crate, and the number 96! The year my parents “died” in the fire! And Elizabeth said she had seen two people with eyes like mine. My parents. It had to be them. They had to have transported to her trial to escape the fire. So had they left a message for me, or for Bud and Estelle? And the “great” something that my father had mentioned? What was that?
I got so close, but now I seem to be right back where I started. My emotions are in overdrive, running on a fighting mix of adrenaline and restlessness. But they’re no match for my exhaustion. It’s too much to sort this out right now. I’ll figure it all out tomorrow. Maybe a new day will bring me some better surprises. Surprises that won’t risk my life, or Bud’s and Estelle’s. I’ll piece the loose ends together tomorrow. Tomorrow…
* * *
The next day I have to fight to keep from dozing off in school. Several times Mr. Perry catches me falling asleep in the middle of the class discussion and calls me out on it. But I’m drained.
I kept waking up all night to images of Elizabeth’s bloodied body and her transparent, tear-filled lifeless eyes gazing at me. And every time she woke me, I would toss and turn and remember that I had almost gotten myself and Bud killed.
After class, Mario and I agree to meet at the museum at five to start our project. Not the day I would have chosen, but I’m going to take advantage of it anyway.
As I’m heading out the door, Mr. Perry calls out to me. He’s sitting on the table with his big arms crossed. “Hey, Gavin, what’s up with you today? I had to wake you up at least four times. You all right there?”
I’m not sure if he’s scolding me or is genuinely concerned, so I don’t make eye contact. But when I finally glance up, I’m relieved to see that he’s grinning.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “I’m just still adjusting to everything. You know, the time change. New surroundings. Massive headache, too.”
He plunks himself down in Mario’s seat and turns it so he’s facing me. “I know that moving all the way across the country probably isn’t very easy. Especially given your age. But my offer’s always on the table. If there is, in fact, any time you ever need to talk, about whatever… you come to me. Got it?”
I pull my camera bag over my shoulder and stand up. “Got it, Mr. P.” I head for the door but stop before I open it and turn back to him. “I really do appreciate it.”