Chapter Forty-Four: Flight

Two young siblings held their breath as the wooden floorboards above creaked and groaned under the bounty hunter's heavy boots.

The journey along the underground railroad since the siblings' escape from South Carolina had been long and arduous, but Canada remained maddeningly distant. To be caught now, in Pennsylvania, after everything they had been through, was not an option.

Pennsylvania.

The brother mouthed the word to himself in the dark. Pen-sill-vain-yuh.

Odd name for a state.

"They gonna find us in here, Graf?" the sister whispered to her brother. "You told me Pennsylvania was a free state."

"Hush, Tara," Graf admonished. "Gonna find us if you keep makin' so much noise. Doesn't matter if Pennsylvania's a free state. Patter-rollers come into free states all the time 'cuz the law's on their side."

The siblings could hear the bounty hunter arguing upstairs with the underground railroad farmer who'd given them shelter, and then the sound of a fist connecting with someone's head, followed by the thump of an unconscious body hitting the floor. Gruff orders were given, and the bounty hunter slowly began to move through the house, stomping on the floor to listen for hollow space underneath.

"Gonna use it, this time?" Tara asked her brother.

"Don't want to," Graf murmured. Despite himself, however, he reached behind his back to touch the revolver tucked in his belt, his fingers brushing the comforting metal.

"Might have to, this time," Tara persisted.

"Only if we need-"

Whatever Graf was going to say next was lost when one of the slave hunters stomped on the floor directly overhead, causing the wood to give a much hollower thunk. Within seconds, the trapdoor was discovered and torn away, exposing the siblings.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" The bounty hunter loomed over the siblings, torch in one hand, pistol in the other. The wavering firelight of his torch offered glimpses of crooked brown teeth and a nasty leer. He cocked his pistol, taking careful aim. "Y'all wanna come outta there nice 'n slow, now. Nice 'n slow, yeah? And show me your hands-"

"You find somethin' in there, Buck?" called another bounty hunter from outside.

"Sure as shit did!" Buck looked away for a moment to yell back. "Found us some runaway-"

Graf fired the revolver, shooting Buck through the neck, cutting him off mid-shout and spattering the ceiling with blood.

Buck's friend outside raised the alarm, calling to fellow hunters checking nearby houses.

Already Graf was leaping out of the hidey-hole, pulling Tara along with him, the revolver still smoking.

Buck lay sprawled and gargling on the floor, trying unsuccessfully with one hand to stop the blood flowing from his neck, his efforts growing weaker by the moment.

"C'mon, sis, out the window!" Graf shattered the nearest window with his elbow, helping Tara through before following. The siblings held hands and did not look back, running for their lives into the field separating the farmhouse from the woods.

They ran all through the night, and when they felt they could run no further they continued, crashing through shrubbery and foliage, wincing as they were scratched by brambles and tree branches. It was not until the first hints of dawn colored the eastern sky that the siblings were forced by exhaustion to stop.

"Go on, sis, get some sleep," Graf managed to say between breaths. He leaned back against a tree and pulled out the revolver, using their respite as his chance to reload it. "More're gonna come soon with dogs. Better rest up."

"We'll shoot them too," Tara declared defiantly as she sank down to the ground, resting back against a tree and taking several deep breaths, allowing herself to drift off to sleep.

"Hard to shoot 'em all with only three shots, sis."

"I know my numbers. Five shots left."

"Three shots, sis," Graf did not change his stance, dolefully meeting his sister's questioning gaze. "Last two shots are for us, if we need 'em. We're not going back, and no one is taking us back."

Tara closed her eyes, and she was snoring within two minutes. Graf remained on watch, fighting against his weariness. He didn't have much desire to sleep, anyway; yes, he was tired, but he was also weary of having the same dream he'd been having since his childhood. Tara had the same dream as well, and it was one of the reasons why they'd stuck together so much during their time on the plantation.

The dream always started with Graf running through a misty forest. He never knew what he was running from or why; only that he had to keep moving. Then there would be a flash of light from the sky, illuminating a mountain not too far up ahead. Graf would know that he had to reach that mountain, and he would run faster…but it was as if the mountain was taunting him, because he was never able to get any closer to it.

Graf gnashed his teeth in frustration, pouring every last bit of energy he had into his legs. He had to reach that mountain. If he did not, then all would be lost. No, failure was not an option…

Wait…

Graf's eyes flew open, and he sprang to his feet. It was dawn; he'd fallen asleep for several hours, and now he'd possibly killed both himself and his sister. In the near distance, he could hear what was probably the absolute worst sound an escaped slave could ever hear: the howling of dogs. The boy cursed himself in just about every way he knew how as he hurried over to his sister and shook her awake.

"Get up, Tara, get up!" the brother screamed. "We gotta move!"

Tara was on her feet and running alongside her brother within two seconds. She had been on the run for over a month; being on guard and ready to flee at the drop of a pin had turned her into an incredibly light sleeper. She ran alongside her brother, effortlessly matching his speed. They leaped over tree roots, dodged rocks, ducked under low-hanging tree limbs, and even splashed through a couple creeks at one point.

It was after crossing the creeks that Graf saw it. The sun had already risen a few minutes ago—the siblings could see its rays illuminating the treetops…but they were still running in the shadows. The trees they were sprinting through were still dark. That was because the sunlight was blocked. After they crossed the creeks, Graf was beginning to despair; the howling of the dogs was getting closer, and he was even starting to hear the shouts of the slave hunters who owned those dogs.

Now that they'd killed white folks, Graf wasn't even sure they'd be taken back to the plantation. They'd more likely be strung up on one of these trees and left to hang until their feet stopped kicking—and even then, probably only after getting flogged until their backs peeled off. But then Graf looked up to the sky, and saw it…

The sun finally revealed itself, cresting over the peak of a small mountain. The mountain itself was silhouetted, but Graf recognized it… Recognized the shape, the trees that covered it, the birds that fluttered in the sky over it… How fortunate those birds were to be born birds; able to fly, not bound to the earth…the ultimate symbol of freedom.

But the sight of the mountain filled Graf with a newfound surge of strength. It was the mountain from his and Tara's dreams. Though he could not explain how or why, he knew that they were meant to go there.

"Grafton, look!" Tara called over to her brother.

"I know!" Graf hollered back.

Upon reaching the mountain, the siblings were horrified to discover a sheer rocky cliff. Not even the will to be free would get them up that cliff. And so they began to circumnavigate the mountain, hoping to find an easier way to climb. By the time they stumbled upon the lake, the barking of slavers' dogs was close enough to make the siblings' hair stand on end.

The lake was over a mile wide. A thin layer of mist hung low over the surface, and fish could sometimes be spotted hopping out of the water. A gentle breeze puffed every now and then, sending new patterns of ripples across the water's surface.

In the center of the lake loomed a towering pyramidal stone temple, crowned by a massive squatting frog statue. Stone stairs ascended from the bottom of the temple to an entrance at the top.

Although neither of the siblings could quite understand why or how, they knew that if they wanted to live they needed to get inside that temple, and so with reckless abandon they plunged into the chilly water, swimming for their lives. By the time they made it to the bottom of the temple stairs, the slave hunters and their dogs had emerged from the woods and were standing on the shore of the lake.

The dogs were barking up a storm, but they would not enter the water. The dozen or so torch-bearing slavers didn't have a boat, either, but strangely enough none of them were trying to swim after the siblings. In fact, none of them even seemed able to see the temple; Graf and Tara could hear them calling out to one another, orders being given to search the area, even though they and the temple were in plain sight.

Masters at counting their blessings, the siblings gave it no thought and started climbing the stairs. Upon reaching the top, they were almost delirious with exhaustion, staggering uneasily into a stone chamber, the walls of which were engraved with images of salamanders and lizards, cobra snakes, turtles, crocodiles…as well as several animals that they did not recognize.

The entrance opened up into a much larger chamber that took up the entire upper portion of the temple. The walls here, too, were covered with the stylized images of all those animals, but they no longer held the siblings' attention. What captivated them was the large, glowing lotus flower that rested on top of the central platform. It was a giant purple flower, and it shined with a radiance of its own. Right now, its petals were open, and there was a blindingly bright orb of white light that hung in the air over the flower, about as large as a small tree. It was not a harsh white light, though… Yes, it was difficult to look at directly, but it felt warm and comforting.

"What is this place, Graf?" Tara's voice was soft with awe as she beheld the glowing lotus flower that looked like it belonged in a dream. "This a dream?"

"I don't know," Graf murmured.

Tara took a few steps closer to the white light above the open lotus flower, her curiosity getting the better of her, but still not quite able to overcome her ingrained sense of caution and fear of the unknown. "Should we go into the light?"

"Let's go," said Graf.

"Nothing worse than staying here," Tara agreed. "I'm ready to see someplace new."

Graf looked at his sister. Indigo eyes met blue. He slipped his hand into hers and took the first step up onto the central platform, helping her up. Then he turned back to face the pulsating white light, taking a deep breath. Then, together, the siblings stepped forward into the white light. It enveloped them, and they watched as the petals of the giant purple lotus grew in size and closed over their heads.

Then, the moment the petals closed, they peeled themselves open once again and shrank back to the lotus's normal size. The whole thing had taken no time at all, and Graf realized that the lotus flower hadn't actually grown in size when they stepped in…it was he and his sister who had shrunk. But now they were back to normal.

They had not been taken anywhere new, like they'd been hoping for… They were still inside the interior of the frog temple. Nothing had changed…except for one thing.

A young woman, probably in her late twenties, was sitting cross-legged in front of the giant lotus flower, clad in a simple brown dress that was unlike anything the siblings had ever seen. Her face was open and gentle, but her expression exuded an air of authority. "Bienvenido." She rose to her feet to greet the new arrivals. "Senor Twymann, Senorita Gibbons. I cannot imagine what you have gone through to get here, but I am glad you made it."

Graf blinked several times, stepping down from the lotus, looking around the room hesitantly. "What…what just… Who…?"

The strange woman cleared her throat, stepping forward and holding a hand out to Tara, helping her down from the platform. "My name is Chela Arevalo, and I am a friend. You have experienced time travel."

Graf shook his head, frowning.

"Sounds like nonsense to me," remarked Tara.

"Think of it this way," Chela changed tack. "You have just stepped through a door. A door which leads not to different rooms, but different years. 'Twymann' and 'Gibbons' are the surnames of the identifications I have arranged for you both. I have kept your first names."

"What year is it?" Tara asked the next question on both siblings' minds.

"1949."