When and where (Fruk)

6

As I walked out of the portal, I wasn't surprised to see that the area around me was now destroyed. I was in his basement, but everything looked dusty and old. I needed to find out what year it was and get my hands on some tools.

I looked at the stairs to the basement and rushed up. The door was stuck, and I breathed out, frustrated. "I need a raise," I laughed. I positioned my elbow and shut my eyes as I pulled back.

CRACK!

I was lucky enough that the door burst open after one hit. A bright light seeped through the broken door, and a lot of dust fogged my vision as I tried to blow it away. "This is not good..." I whispered.

There was no house any longer. In fact, much of the surrounding area was destroyed. "Oh, my days..." I spoke. I looked around, trying to look for anyone, but no one. "Francis?" I called, no answer.

I had seen photos and read books on what happened during World War Two, but nothing could have prepared me for the sight I witnessed. I walked out of the broken door and looked upon the destroyed land. There was smoke coming from fires that had recently gone out.  The ground was muddy from the rainwater. The remaining structures were held up with a few wooded frames.

I began walking through the rubbish and held myself as I felt the cold air hit my skin. "Francis?..."I called again. That guy was annoying, but I immediately regretted seeing the remainder of the place he lived. Was I wrong for not warning him?

No! I couldn't! He could have changed the future, and I couldn't allow that! It was a risk I was willing to take. I was worried about what could have happened to him despite knowing all that.

I continued walking, and I looked at the ground toward a newspaper. My eyes widened, and I quickly jumped toward it to read. I quickly looked at the date, and it said March 20, 1942

Who knows how long ago this newspaper was...

The location was written for St. Nazaire...

I remembered that event from history class; it was raided by the British...I forgot why, but I knew it was a raid. I needed to get out of here quickly, at least from this area. Maybe Paris might have something, maybe...I think France has been taken by the Nazis already. It wasn't like I was in immediate danger, but I couldn't be captured or killed. I needed a change of clothes to help me blend in until I could find the tools I needed.

I looked around the rubble and knew I wouldn't find anything near. I knew I needed to find something to help me travel. If not, I would have to go on foot. I wish I had invented teleportation instead.

I looked at my watch and began walking out of the rubble toward a paved road. I was hoping to find a car or anything. I doubt Francis was still here, and I doubt I'd see him during my time here. He would be a soldier at his age, and I knew he wasn't dead because his future self was still alive. He could be fighting in resistance with England or fleeing the country. I doubt he would stay here.

However, it did make me wonder where he was.

I closed my eyes as the breeze but my face, and suddenly heard this distant noise. My eyes widened, and I began to look around for the source. It sounded like music was playing. I quickly rechecked my surroundings and began to move toward where I thought the music was coming from. Music means people; people mean resources or even a car!

I didn't want to risk another time jump before attempting to fix my watch. Who knows what was happening in the future? Maybe those men found my things; perhaps they were coming after me; anything was possible.

I kept moving toward the noise and nearly cheered once seeing the music coming from a car. "My luck! Perfect!" I cheered. I ran toward the car and looked around to see if anyone was near, but no one was.

I jumped into the passenger seat and looked at the car shift. Crap... I don't know how to drive this old ass car! "Oh, bloody hell!" I yelled. I began shaking the steering wheel, annoyed, and I did my best not to hit the dash. I'm such an idiot!

I began ramming my head against the steering wheel, and the horn would go off with each hit. "Someone....please...kill...meeeeeeee..."

"Can you stop hitting my car..." a voice spoke. I stopped immediately, and my eyes widened upon hearing the familiar voice. "FRANCIS?!" I shouted, turning my head. He was looking at me, annoyed, crossing his arms.

"You are here?! How? Oh my god! I was actually really worried about you!" I said.

"Surprising..." he spoke. He rolled his eyes at me and began to push me toward the passenger seat, so he was on the driver's side. "I hope you know I am very irritated with you. It is frustrating when you leave like that, and I'm stuck waiting for you; you could be more gentlemanly, aren't you supposed to be British?" He asked with attitude. I laughed at what he said and nodded. "I'm sorry, but I have things to do," I spoke.

"But really? How and why are you here? This place looks like crap!"

"Ugh....well...since you are asking...I figured a while ago that you knew about the wars that would happen, which is why you told me to be careful. Honestly, it upset me for a long time, and I wanted to punch you in your stupid face, but things weren't getting better, and I needed to focus on something else, other than your eventual return," he started. He began to scratch the back of his head and close the car door.

"Anyway, when France was taken by the Nazis, most people fled the country, and even this port town, like many others, was abandoned. I was fighting at some point, but my service ended, and I was allowed to continue or become a veteran. At the time, I wanted to fight, but I was "injured" on the battlefield, and I'm sure you could understand how troublesome it might be for me if people saw that I survived a wound that anyone would have died from. I thought that I could still die, but no...I am immortal...nothing could kill me."

I stayed silent as he began to start the car. It must be a sad existence to live forever...a very lonely one too. "So, I decided to leave the army, as much as it pained me. I didn't know what else to do, so I decided the next thing to do was try and find you...if you ever came back... I figured you would return to the same spot as the last time, so I wanted to wait for you..."

"What? But when I left, you were upset with me! Why would you want to find me? Especially after stressing you out as I've done...I know it feels like hours for me, but it's been years for you..." I spoke. I felt empathy toward him. I felt like a dick for putting him through stress, and now, he can't even help defend his own country. He deserves answers, at least.

"I know...and I was upset with you... but that was years ago, I'm only irritated now because I know you will try and leave again, but I'm willing to help if you let me," he spoke. My eyes widened, and he continued to drive the car. "What? Really?" I asked.

"Yes! I've been preparing for you to come back. The last time we spoke, you were looking for some tools, and I've been gathering some things you might need," he explained. His gestures made me incredibly happy, and I smiled at him.

"Whoa, don't get too excited! Let's consider it a gesture of truce. However, in return, I want you to be able to talk to me; I deserve a few explanations," he spoke.

"Yes! I will tell you anything and everything! Please! Let me use your tools!" I spoke eagerly. He laughed at my excitement and nodded. "Well, of course," he spoke.