George Challenger listened intently to the woman sitting in front of him. "But everything was the same when you returned?" he interrupted.
"At first it appeared to be," Finn replied. "But I was wrong. Much more came through those wavy things..."
"The time distortions," the scientist supplied.
"Right, the time things. Anyway, more came here than just me. Those flying dinosaurs..."
"Pterodactyls."
"Yeah, only they aren't like the ones you know. They are even bigger and they're black with claws big enough to rip a man in half. They wiped out everyone -- there aren't many of them left now. There isn't much to eat now except each other."
"And there is no one else still alive?"
"Not for over ten years now," she confirmed.
"And you've been here - alone - all these years."
"Oh, I knew you would come back for me."
"Finn...." Challenger began again.
"I know," the older Finn said impatiently, "but I think it's like you said. You get taken someplace to you need to be." The scientist began to interrupt again, but she held up her hand to stop him. "You have to take me -- the younger me -- back to your time. There is a lot I still have to learn there. I will have to come back here, because this is my time, but I need to be in my own time, but not yet."
Challenger gave her a strange look and started to speak again.
"Look, Challenger," Finn didn't give him a chance. "I don't know how I know this, but I do somehow. I need to learn something from your time to help save my time and I think, something I still need to do in your time."
"But how can you know..." he finally was able to interject.
"I don't know what it is." She stood and peeked out a boarded off window, "I just know that there's something back there for me and it had to be done before I come back. I also know that you need to leave soon or you could be stuck here too."
"But, Finn," Challenger objected, "the only way I have of traveling through time right now is the time disruptions and we don't know when or where they will occur." He had a sudden thought, "The phenomena was converging on the tree-house. Perhaps they will occur with more frequency closer to that area."
"Now you're thinkin' Challenger," Finn smiled. "You'd better hurry."
"I can't leave you here," he objected.
"I won't be. Once you take the younger me back to your time, none of this will happen."
"I can't guarantee that I can get back to you."
"Well, I have more confidence in you than that," she assured him.
********
Loathsome sounds from the slaughter faded to background noise as Ned Malone continued his escape. When he judged himself far enough away from the massacre, and no longer being pursued, he slowed and tried to get his bearings. He tried not to think of the carnage he left behind.
He turned at the soft crunch of leaves. Whoever, whatever was following him was not yet in sight. He quickly fell back behind a tree and concentrated on controlling his breathing. He did not have long to wait.
Covered in blood and filth, one lone Viking stalked quietly past Ned's hiding place and stopped. He turned to Malone, axe raised. Neither man moved for several moments as each stared at his own reflection. Suddenly, the Norseman moved. The reporter ducked as the axe swished through the air where his head had been. Malone glanced at the weapon. It was lodged deep in the tree's trunk.
Malone threw himself at the Viking. They hit the ground heavily. Ned scrambled to gain the upper hand. The look-alikes struggled as they punched and gouged each other. At one point, the Viking drug out his knife. Malone seized the barbarian's wrist and squeezed, but the man didn't let go of his weapon until an elbow slammed into his stomach.
Once again equal, they continued to grapple. Thorns tore at them unnoticed as they tumbled down an incline. The Viking's head slammed against a rock and he was still. Ned rolled away from the unconscious Norseman and took a few deep breaths before stumbling to his feet.
Completely exhausted, he staggered away.
Another of the curious rippling waves was quickly approaching. "Oh, not again," he moaned just before it washed over him.
********
They had seen shadows of the fearsome predators which had wiped out the meagre population of Finn's time, but had not been pursued. Challenger ran first from building to building, then as they left the city, from tree to tree following Finn avoiding detection by the pteradactyls. They were getting close to the tree which in his own era would house their tree-house.
So far there had been no hint of the time distortions.
Challenger moved quicker passing Finn, more sure of the area now that they had left the concrete and steel of the city behind. He had determined not to leave her here. No one should have to live such an isolated life.
A sudden dark coolness enveloped him. He turned back. The ugliest dinosaur he had ever seen was converging on Finn. "Finn, run!" He started back, but the huge talons struck quickly and sliced through the future woman's back. She was dead before her body hit the ground.
"No!" he yelled. It was then that he felt the tingling of the time distortion. Finn and her world faded away.
********
Slamming his battered, blood-covered fist against the ground, Roxton steeled himself to look upon the dead body of his Marguerite. Although it had only been seconds since he'd collapsed against the altar, he felt years older. How could he ever continue without her?
Laboriously, he got to his feet hoping that her eyes would be closed. He didn't think he could handle looking into her beautiful, grey-green eyes and seeing no spark of life.
But her eyes were open ... and they blinked.
Roxton stumbled toward her in surprise and touched her face in disbelief. "Marguerite," he gasped, "how?" Even as he asked, he realised that he didn't care. It didn't matter as long as she was alive. He pulled her to a sitting position. She looked dazed and confused. her eyes were glassy. "Marguerite?" he repeated.
With great effort, she focused her eyes on the worried face before her. Her fingertips lightly skimmed his stubbled cheek. "John?"
The hunter's anxious frown was banished by a broad, slightly lopsided grin. He pulled the baffled beauty off the altar and into his arms.
Hesitantly, she returned his embrace.
Roxton bent down; his lips ached to caress hers. His hand, buried in her thick, raven hair, tilted her head up. He could feel her warm breath.
She pushed away, "this can't be real." Looking into his hazel eyes, she plead for an explanation. "How can I be alive? I saw...."
Seizing her hand, Roxton brought it to his lips. He kissed her soft palm, then held it tightly against his cheek. "I'm real," he assured her. "We're both alive. I don't understand what happened, but it doesn't matter. We're together."
Her eyes followed his fingers as he probed the hollow between her breasts. The silky skin was clean and unmarred.
She turned to the altar. Her fingertips ran along the edges of a new divot in the cold, grey stone. "That was directly under my heart," she whispered, "how....?"
"There was no blood on the knife," he reflected out loud. He took her shoulders and forced her to turn away from the altar. "When that priest attacked me," he glanced over at the still unconscious man, then turned back to Marguerite, "the blade was clean. Your blood wasn't on it. He couldn't have ... touched you."
Marguerite looked down at his blood-soaked sleeve, realising for the first time that he was injured. "Apparently he didn't miss you," she said wryly glad for the distraction. She pushed his sleeve back to examine his wound. "You've managed to ruin another perfectly good shirt." She winced at the sight of the gash in his forearm.. Glancing up, she found him grinning at her. "It's going to take several stitches," she said sternly, "and not just in your shirt."
"And no one could do a better job than you."
She shook her head and tried unsuccessfully to keep from returning his smile. "I'll have to bind it until we get back to the tree-house." Her eyes lit on the burial cloth. She shuddered slightly as she lifted it, but felt great satisfaction as she tore long strips from it.
Deftly, she wrapped and tied the make-shift bandage. A part of the shroud's symbol was visible, and she traced softly along it.
"It's over, Marguerite," Roxton assured her gently. "It's over and you're safe."
"But how?" she asked quietly. "I saw that knife. I watched it enter my chest. It happened."
"Not exactly," said a voice behind them.
********
"At first it appeared to be," Finn replied. "But I was wrong. Much more came through those wavy things..."
"The time distortions," the scientist supplied.
"Right, the time things. Anyway, more came here than just me. Those flying dinosaurs..."
"Pterodactyls."
"Yeah, only they aren't like the ones you know. They are even bigger and they're black with claws big enough to rip a man in half. They wiped out everyone -- there aren't many of them left now. There isn't much to eat now except each other."
"And there is no one else still alive?"
"Not for over ten years now," she confirmed.
"And you've been here - alone - all these years."
"Oh, I knew you would come back for me."
"Finn...." Challenger began again.
"I know," the older Finn said impatiently, "but I think it's like you said. You get taken someplace to you need to be." The scientist began to interrupt again, but she held up her hand to stop him. "You have to take me -- the younger me -- back to your time. There is a lot I still have to learn there. I will have to come back here, because this is my time, but I need to be in my own time, but not yet."
Challenger gave her a strange look and started to speak again.
"Look, Challenger," Finn didn't give him a chance. "I don't know how I know this, but I do somehow. I need to learn something from your time to help save my time and I think, something I still need to do in your time."
"But how can you know..." he finally was able to interject.
"I don't know what it is." She stood and peeked out a boarded off window, "I just know that there's something back there for me and it had to be done before I come back. I also know that you need to leave soon or you could be stuck here too."
"But, Finn," Challenger objected, "the only way I have of traveling through time right now is the time disruptions and we don't know when or where they will occur." He had a sudden thought, "The phenomena was converging on the tree-house. Perhaps they will occur with more frequency closer to that area."
"Now you're thinkin' Challenger," Finn smiled. "You'd better hurry."
"I can't leave you here," he objected.
"I won't be. Once you take the younger me back to your time, none of this will happen."
"I can't guarantee that I can get back to you."
"Well, I have more confidence in you than that," she assured him.
********
Loathsome sounds from the slaughter faded to background noise as Ned Malone continued his escape. When he judged himself far enough away from the massacre, and no longer being pursued, he slowed and tried to get his bearings. He tried not to think of the carnage he left behind.
He turned at the soft crunch of leaves. Whoever, whatever was following him was not yet in sight. He quickly fell back behind a tree and concentrated on controlling his breathing. He did not have long to wait.
Covered in blood and filth, one lone Viking stalked quietly past Ned's hiding place and stopped. He turned to Malone, axe raised. Neither man moved for several moments as each stared at his own reflection. Suddenly, the Norseman moved. The reporter ducked as the axe swished through the air where his head had been. Malone glanced at the weapon. It was lodged deep in the tree's trunk.
Malone threw himself at the Viking. They hit the ground heavily. Ned scrambled to gain the upper hand. The look-alikes struggled as they punched and gouged each other. At one point, the Viking drug out his knife. Malone seized the barbarian's wrist and squeezed, but the man didn't let go of his weapon until an elbow slammed into his stomach.
Once again equal, they continued to grapple. Thorns tore at them unnoticed as they tumbled down an incline. The Viking's head slammed against a rock and he was still. Ned rolled away from the unconscious Norseman and took a few deep breaths before stumbling to his feet.
Completely exhausted, he staggered away.
Another of the curious rippling waves was quickly approaching. "Oh, not again," he moaned just before it washed over him.
********
They had seen shadows of the fearsome predators which had wiped out the meagre population of Finn's time, but had not been pursued. Challenger ran first from building to building, then as they left the city, from tree to tree following Finn avoiding detection by the pteradactyls. They were getting close to the tree which in his own era would house their tree-house.
So far there had been no hint of the time distortions.
Challenger moved quicker passing Finn, more sure of the area now that they had left the concrete and steel of the city behind. He had determined not to leave her here. No one should have to live such an isolated life.
A sudden dark coolness enveloped him. He turned back. The ugliest dinosaur he had ever seen was converging on Finn. "Finn, run!" He started back, but the huge talons struck quickly and sliced through the future woman's back. She was dead before her body hit the ground.
"No!" he yelled. It was then that he felt the tingling of the time distortion. Finn and her world faded away.
********
Slamming his battered, blood-covered fist against the ground, Roxton steeled himself to look upon the dead body of his Marguerite. Although it had only been seconds since he'd collapsed against the altar, he felt years older. How could he ever continue without her?
Laboriously, he got to his feet hoping that her eyes would be closed. He didn't think he could handle looking into her beautiful, grey-green eyes and seeing no spark of life.
But her eyes were open ... and they blinked.
Roxton stumbled toward her in surprise and touched her face in disbelief. "Marguerite," he gasped, "how?" Even as he asked, he realised that he didn't care. It didn't matter as long as she was alive. He pulled her to a sitting position. She looked dazed and confused. her eyes were glassy. "Marguerite?" he repeated.
With great effort, she focused her eyes on the worried face before her. Her fingertips lightly skimmed his stubbled cheek. "John?"
The hunter's anxious frown was banished by a broad, slightly lopsided grin. He pulled the baffled beauty off the altar and into his arms.
Hesitantly, she returned his embrace.
Roxton bent down; his lips ached to caress hers. His hand, buried in her thick, raven hair, tilted her head up. He could feel her warm breath.
She pushed away, "this can't be real." Looking into his hazel eyes, she plead for an explanation. "How can I be alive? I saw...."
Seizing her hand, Roxton brought it to his lips. He kissed her soft palm, then held it tightly against his cheek. "I'm real," he assured her. "We're both alive. I don't understand what happened, but it doesn't matter. We're together."
Her eyes followed his fingers as he probed the hollow between her breasts. The silky skin was clean and unmarred.
She turned to the altar. Her fingertips ran along the edges of a new divot in the cold, grey stone. "That was directly under my heart," she whispered, "how....?"
"There was no blood on the knife," he reflected out loud. He took her shoulders and forced her to turn away from the altar. "When that priest attacked me," he glanced over at the still unconscious man, then turned back to Marguerite, "the blade was clean. Your blood wasn't on it. He couldn't have ... touched you."
Marguerite looked down at his blood-soaked sleeve, realising for the first time that he was injured. "Apparently he didn't miss you," she said wryly glad for the distraction. She pushed his sleeve back to examine his wound. "You've managed to ruin another perfectly good shirt." She winced at the sight of the gash in his forearm.. Glancing up, she found him grinning at her. "It's going to take several stitches," she said sternly, "and not just in your shirt."
"And no one could do a better job than you."
She shook her head and tried unsuccessfully to keep from returning his smile. "I'll have to bind it until we get back to the tree-house." Her eyes lit on the burial cloth. She shuddered slightly as she lifted it, but felt great satisfaction as she tore long strips from it.
Deftly, she wrapped and tied the make-shift bandage. A part of the shroud's symbol was visible, and she traced softly along it.
"It's over, Marguerite," Roxton assured her gently. "It's over and you're safe."
"But how?" she asked quietly. "I saw that knife. I watched it enter my chest. It happened."
"Not exactly," said a voice behind them.
********
