Voynich Shift: Wildflower

Leonis 1:1,2:7 Part Two

Earlier that day

Darkness washed over me. My breathing accelerates. Where am I? My hand slips down to touch the familiar object in my pocket. The Horo has become my lucky charm, my friend, whose steps I follow into the unknown.

"Who's there? "

A high pitched female voice asks. I bite my lip. I don't want to scare her. Opening my mouth, only a low stutter escapes. I shut it again quickly.

"Lark? If it's you, just come out! I'm tired of your games! Just get it over with!" a loud bang erupts next to me, and and glass shatters. I jump away in fear. Where in the world am I?

A latern glows to life from across me, clutched tightly in a small hand. My mouth drops. A young redheaded female stands in front of me gripping a rifle. She's dressed in a long white pajama gown. A broken lantern lies at my feat. She actually pulled the trigger!

"Who. Are. You. And, where's Lark?" she growls like a lioness, pointing her riffle to the left, then to the right.

"I'm Parker. I'm sorry, I don't want to scare you." I hold my hands up in defense.

"Parker, huh? Parker who?" she keeps her stance, eyeing me carefully.

Taking a deep breath, I reply, "Parker Raymond." Why oh why, am I in this girl's house? Why couldn't the Horo have dropped me off outside?

"Why are you inside my house? Did Lark send you?"

"Okay, I don't know who Lark is, I'm sorry, I'm... I'm lost."

"Fine, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. But it is three a.m. in the morning, so get out."

"Get out? And go where?" I don't like where this is going, at all.

"Don't care, you may not be one of Lark's handy men, but that doesn't mean I trust you. Scoot!" She starts pushing me out the back door of the kitchen with her riffle.

"Okay, just careful, hey."

"Yeah yeah, watch out for the scorpions and snakes." She yells as she slams the door in my face.

"No, wait, please! Come back!" I hammer on the back door like a mad man. Snakes? Oh hell no.

She swings the door open and once again the heavenly glow from the lantern bathes me in light. "What now? How must I sleep with all your ruckus?"

"Where am I? Please, I can't remember how I got here." I had gotten the hang of all these lies.

"You're on my farm!"

"No, which town is this?"

She squints at me before replying, " It's Springbok, twenty kilometres or so from it anyway. What glue are you sniffing? "

"I don't do drugs. Where is Springbok? I'm sorry, my head is fuzzy." Another lie.

"In the Cape Province." she looks at me like like I'm delusional. When I just stare at her, she carries on," South Africa. Oh come on, where are you from, Mr. foreigner? "

South Africa? Cape Province ? I pull up a mental map in my head. Lately I've been looking at a lot of maps. Thanks to my Grandpa, I know that Cape Province was split into three in 1994, after the Apartheid era- Northern Cape, Western Cape and Eastern Cape. If I'm not mistaken, I am currently in the Northern Cape.

"Ma'am, please, don't leave me outside, I'm sorry for all the inconvenience, but just don't leave me with the snakes."

A giggles gurgles over her lips. "You're cute in your damsel in distress act."

"This isn't an act. Please. I'll sleep on the floor if I must, just not outside."

I had to make good on my promise, this cold cement floor cuts right through three blankets. On top of that, she locked me inside the guestroom! With the bars on the windows, I would love to see her face if the Horro teleports me before sunrise.

Shifting some more , I settle down. Sleep overcomes me as I slide my fingers over the Horro one more time.

"Rise and shine!" Graceful scents of coffee, and sizzling bacon tease my senses. Sunshine streams through the bedroom window.

The girl from last night, who looks no older than twenty, stands in the doorway. "Morning, er..."

"Gracie. My name is Gracie." her smile warms my soul. Something about her makes me want to protect her.

"Pleased to meet you. I really am sorry about last night. I mean this morning. Thank you for your generosity." I quickly fold my blankets and put everything away on the table, the only piece of furniture in the room.

"You are forgiven. Come, I made breakfast." In the kitchen, I am greeted by steam rising from a loaf of bread, eggs, bacon, sausages, a pitcher of milk, and various fruits.

"Are we having company?" I glance around to see if I missed any other people in the kitchen.

"No, silly. It's just us. Remember, my rifle is loaded, anything funny from you, and you will get it."

Raising my hands, I with a grin, " Yes, Ma'am. Who made all this though? You? "

"I did. I made everything myself. Sausage and bread is homemade. How else?" She pulls out a chair and starts to dish up.

"How did you make it? Without electricity?" I sit down too.

"Elec- what? The farm animals are outside, my source of everything I need." she eyes me as she spreads butter on the warm slice of bread.

"Sorry, never mind. What year is this?"

Sighing, she replies, "Nineteen seventy. Are you all right?"

I touch the Horo in my pocket and smile. I wonder what Grandpa is doing at this moment back home. He was a young man in the seventies."I'm fine, I just forget simple things sometimes."

After breakfast, I offer to help her wash up, but smile gratefully when she refuses. I carry buckets of water from the river to her basin before I get comfortable outside for a while, walking around while while my food digests. If this is the year 1970 in South Africa, that means the Apartheid era is still in session. I make a mental note to ask Gracie about it later.

"I need to go to town. Would you like to accompany me?" Gracie asks, head peeking out of the bedroom window.

"Yes, I would." I walk around the house to the front, where a faded blue Datsun truck is parked near the trees. It's in good condition, appears to be fairly new. Suddenly I wonder why Gracie lives alone on this farm. Did she buy this truck? For her age, it seems rather strange. Gracie comes running out of the house, kicking up red sand as she does so.

"What's wrong?" my heart beat accelerates.

"Nothing, why?" she looks at me with innocent green eyes.

"You are running, why?" She starts laughing out loud as she hops in behind the front wheel.

"Just because I can." her eyes sparkle. Gazing into her eyes, I realise, I like her.

"What model is this?" I slide my hand over the dashboard.

"1964, Datsun NL320, front engine, rear-wheel drive." She seems pretty pleased with herself. A girl who knows her truck. Can she be more perfect?

"Who is Lark?" I throw it out there without warning. Her face pales at the mention of his name. She takes a deep breath before she answers.