Prophet

Chapter Three

Isaac was still asleep when Christine went down for coffee the next morning. Her parents were still upstairs.

Christine was about to go back upstairs when Isaac moaned and rolled over. She paused and took a good long look at him.

He was sprawled out where they'd left him the night before, his hands curled around the sheet. His hair had fallen across his face. Even in his sleep, he looked absolutely terrified.

Christine took a sip of her coffee and sighed. She had wanted excitement, yeah, but not like this. She hadn't planned on rescuing a kidnap victim or whatever. Assuming he really was a kidnap victim. Maybe he was an escapee from a mental hospital?

Isaac didn't move again and Christine shuffled back upstairs to get dressed.

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Isaac was still out when her parents came down to start breakfast, and he woke up while Christine was doing the dishes. She didn't notice him at first until there was a thud from the other room. He'd fallen off the couch and was now entangled in the sheet.

When she went in to see if he was okay, she found him fighting to get the sheet unwound from his ankles. He still looked panicked and when he spotted her he scrambled back onto the couch.

"I-I..."

"Isaac?"

"Please..."

She was saved by the arrival of her mother. Isaac pressed against the back of the couch and looked from her to Christine and back again. Her mother acted first.

"Isaac?" He nodded warily. "My name is Mary Race."

"H-hello."

"Are you all right, dear?"

"What year is it?"

Hah! Now her mother would see what she meant by 'crazy'.

"Twenty-ten."

Isaac sank back on the couch, shaking his head.

"That's impossible."

Oh, what a shame she couldn't say 'I told you so'.

"What do you mean, dear?"

"I-it was eighteen thirty-two yesterday morning, I swear it was!"

"Shh, shh. You had a lot of sun yesterday, that's all. Just wait a minute..."

"It was." he whispered. "Yesterday was June twentieth, eighteen thirty-two."

Well, he had the day right. That was something.