THIRTEEN FOR DINNER

Chapter Seven

SEVEN

            Running down the cobblestone driveway, I tear across the front yard, dodging the gray Spanish moss hanging from the branches of the massive Oaks.  The moon is lighting my path and I should be nearing the old two lane highway any moment now. It’s too late to catch a bus, so I’m looking at a good long walk before I reach the 7-11 on the outskirts of town. They are one of the few places that still have a pay phone outside. Boy am I going to give Mike a piece of my mind for leaving me. It brings comfort to verbally assault him in my head as I plan out everything I intend to say. Then I realize I don’t even have a quarter on me.  So much for the big two-hundred dollars I was supposed to earn tonight. I sigh but keep on powerwalking. Damn it; where is the highway? I know I should have reached it by now.  I wish I could call my mother; she’d come right away and pick me up; even if she were already in bed. She would drive me home, and I would tell her everything that happened, and she would shake her head and tell me how she was going to call Mr. Bracket and give him a piece of her mind for scaring her daughter. Then she would make me the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the world and pour me a frosty glass of coke, while I changed out of this damn dress and into my comfy sweats.  I’d curl up on the couch and eat while she told me the latest gossip at the salon today. God, I’m really missing her right now.  I force back the tears stinging my eyes and stop my powerwalking for a moment to look out over the endless sea of grass. Where the hell is the damn highway?

            “Avery?”

            I jump, startled, and whirl around. I cannot believe Quillan has followed me this far.

            “What are you doing out here?” My question sounds like an accusation.

            “It’s not here Avery,” his eyes search my face. “You can run till morning and you’re not going to find the highway.”

            The overwhelming fear consuming me is not because I believe Quillan’s hair brained story that we traveled back in time; rather it stems from the fact that I am out in the boonies all alone with a mad man. He’s probably some serial killer working with Mr. Brackett. They lured the lot of us here, planning to rob and murder all the wealthy couples and I just so happened to agree to sit in on the massacre. After all, what could be a more appropriate place to carry out such a diabolical plan? My heart drops to my feet with the realization they’ve probably murdered Mike and disposed of the van. No wonder he didn’t come running when I pounded on the wall. My hands begin to shake and my knees start to buckle as I back away from Quillan.

            “Don’t run away from me again,” He pleads. “We need to find a safe place to spend the night.”

            I continue my retreating, all the while keeping my eyes on him. “I’m going home.” I say again, this time there is finality in my statement.

            “It’s not going to be there Avery,” he steps towards me.

            Deep down inside I fear he’s right but it doesn’t make any sense.

            “Why do you say that?”

            “Because, it worked this time.”

            A slight breeze brushes past us, tousling his hair and moving the gray beards dangling from the mighty oaks. I’m surrounded by an improbability that is taunting me, unwillingly drawing me into a world I’ve never intended on visiting.

            “What worked?” I keep my voice steady even though my hands are trembling uncontrollably now.

            “I was finally able to go back to August 16th 1859.”