The Business of Time Travel Tourism

Chapter 5: Alfonso

June 21, 2014. Saturday.

Even though George had emphasized in the advertisement that no guests are welcome during the weekends, he feared that his request might be ignored. So, on the Saturday morning, George woke up early to sneak into the cellar and check if anyone had arrived, he was relieved to see that no one did and the rule he wrote, held true.

Even if anyone had come, he could have safely brought them away, since, on her days off, the mother slept long and deep, snoring like a bear.

For now he wanted to keep his activities secret. Either mother's head would explode or George would die if she found out about his errands.

The weekend passed quickly with only one incident worth mentioning.

2:14 AM on Sunday night, Jim's barking awoke George. Jim rarely let out a noise, but when he did, it happened long after midnight and was as loud as emergency sirens. The barking always had more than enough decibels to wake up the whole neighborhood. The only person not to be fazed by the noise would be the mother. George's window was rather close to the barn, but it was impossible to see what was going on in the backyard because a tall ash obstructed the view.

George could hear someone running and falling, being dragged and running again. Jim wrestled what seemed to be a burglar for a long while, but when George got to the scene, no one was there besides Jim lying in his house, silently chewing a shoe. George checked the ground with a flashlight: there were foot stamps and small rag pieces scattered all over the place, ending up by the fence. At some point on the way to the fence, one of the feet began leaving shoeless imprints. As a reward for the averted burglary, George patted Jim's head and stroked his back.

Jim had a secret, which only George, the mother, and the vet knew. He was a menacing sleepwalker. Many times he had wandered around the block during the night and returned with items ranging from a cast-iron sink to a scythe. And even more times he had chased intruders away, sometimes imaginary and sometimes not.

******

When the clock struck seven AM on Monday, George was once again on his feet. There was no sound of birds outside and the morning sky was gloomy, but that did not hinder George's optimistic mood. He once again waited in the cellar and once again received a new guest.

The ceiling opened, and a tall person wearing a loose brown cassock and a foil helm came falling down. Same way as the old man he fell and hit the floor really hard, but was faster to get to his feet. The foil helm on the visitor's head did not fit well with his monk-like dress up and broad posture, but he was quick to take it off, fold it and tuck it inside a pocket. The man was in his late forties, had a sad wrinkled face, deep, almost soulless brown eyes and a thick blunt nose. His hands were worn; right one shaking, holding a shiny whitish brick, left one carrying two books: a large, thick leather bound book and a small creased journal. There was something rectangular attached to the left arm just below the elbow, a kind of concealed box, corners and edges of which were noticeable as the visitor moved his hand.

"Hello," said the man, his face straight serious.

"Hi." George got up.

"How are you today, sir?"

"Fine, and you?"

"Same, same. Wonder if you could show me the way out of this place and around the world outside." He approached, limping slightly with the stiffer right leg. With the shaking hand, he extended the brick and put it into George's hands. "I believe this is what you asked to bring. Hope it will suffice."

"Indeed it will." George inspected the brick: heavy and shiny, with smooth corners, probably made of silver. Marks stamped on the top surface said, 'Moonrise Enterprises.'