THIRTEEN FOR DINNER

Chapter Nine

NINE

            I’m burning up, and the annoying fly buzzing in my ear is going to die a slow painful death as soon as I wake up and grab the fly swatter from the kitchen. The swamp cooler in my room must have gone out again because I don’t hear the motor running nor do I feel the frigid air blowing in my face. On the contrary, I am sweating profusely. I lay still a few moments longer trying to collect my thoughts and remind myself of everything I need to do today besides calling maintenance to repair the air conditioning. First on the list is to figure out what today is. Yesterday was what? Saturday…that’s right; so what did I do yesterday? I told Mike I would help… No! Panicked, I sit up fast and look around. The heat in the tiny shack is suffocating, blanketing the putrid stench against my face. My stomach churns with realization and I begin to gag. Quillan is quick to pump water into a dirty little tin mug for me and as I tip the cup under my nose I begin retching at the smell of sulfur. 

            “Sorry.” He says, and helps me outside for fresh air. I sit in the tall grass and want to cry. If I’m awake, why am I still having this nightmare? It’s time for Quillan to give me some answers.

            “Who are you and what did you mean last night when you said you were finally able to go back to 1859? How is any of this possible?” I manage to blurt out between my retching.

            He waits until I finish dry heaving, and then squats down in the grass beside me.

            “Like I said before, you got in over your head and I am sorry. I never meant for anyone to travel back here but me.”

            “But you pulled me in the passageway with you.” I catch his bluff. “Why did you do that if you didn’t intend for me to come here? I would rather face a few ghosts than this!”

            “I pulled you in with me to save your life Avery. The time exchange started taking place the moment the lights went out and Mr. Brackett disappeared. That’s’ why we had a certain amount of time to find safe passage. Once we were in the tunnel and the floor dropped out from under us we fell back another month. August 16th 1859. Our intended destination.”

            The realization hits and I begin to shiver, the shrieking, the screams of the other guest…

            “Does that mean everyone else…?” I couldn’t say it.

            The look in his face answers my question and suddenly a fury rises from deep inside of me, the heat of my anger overpowering this hot August morning. I have no desire to be with this inhumane creature.  Standing I give him a swift kick him in the jaw. Unfortunately I didn’t nail him as hard as I would have liked, seeing I landed the blow with my bare feet; but still, it was enough to send him sprawling on his backside. He retaliates by grabbing my ankle as I attempt to stomp past him and the next thing I know I am practically laying on top of him. My anger boils hotter as I struggle to stand but he won’t allow it. My strength is no match to his and before I know it he rolls on top of me, pinning me to the ground.

            “Listen to me,” he growls as the blood oozes from his lip. “You need me to survive here.”

            “I don’t want to survive here!” I scream, struggling against him. “I want to go back home, to the year 2012.”

            “I’m going to send you back, he yells over my screaming, then spits a pool of blood in to the grass.

            I stop struggling for a moment; did he say what I thought he did? “You will?” I ask hopeful, wishing I hadn’t kicked him so hard.

            “Yes,” he says releasing one of my hands so he can wipe the blood running off his chin. “I promise I’ll send you back, but I need you to help me first.”

            “Ughhh,” I groan as I push against him but he’s holding me with both hands again and as much as I hate to admit it, I am helpless.

            “Help you do what?” My tone reams in hostility.

            “I’m here to change history.” He says, then spits another pool of blood into the grass.  “We have a month to stop the Faulkner Estate massacre.”