Hours passed before I thought I saw a smudge of brown on the horizon. It seemed to curve upward slightly. Standing now, I walked to the bow and squatted. Before the boat fish of all sizes could be seen swimming, diving, and leaping for insects. It felt mesmerizing to experience things that reminded me of the place where I lived as a child. A place now devastated by a global pandemic.

I didn’t even know if the virus infected and killed wildlife and again wondered as I, and others did a year ago if it was created in a human lab as a bioweapon. Time didn’t heal wounds as treaty makers and signers expected it would. It seemed that every new generation — once in power — had new or slightly different reasons to keep the anger and hate festering oozing the slime of discontent, the longing desire for wealth and power human life and dignity be damned.

What difference did all that matter once some fool released the virus?

My grandmother often told me that people don’t really change. They just learn new techniques to camouflage their darkest desires and feelings. Given the right set of circumstances and the disguises drop revealing a seething rage or awful betrayal.

I was still studying the horizon when I felt the ship move as if someone walked in my direction. I glanced back and saw Margaret as she approached. She held two bottles of beer bleeding condensation. I took one as she sat alongside me.

“What do you think that is?” She pointed the neck of the bottle in the direction of the growing brown.

“Likely mountains,” I said and drank. “This is good beer.” I held up the bottle.

“It is.” She drank more, which was when the current shifted and the boat tilted enough for her to slid to starboard. I grabbed her left arm, almost went with her. I had wrapped my leg around the mast in the center of the bow. That was enough to stop her from going overboard.

Now, once we were stable, we could clearly see the brown mountains directly in front of us. The current felt like it was pulling us toward land rather than sending us into the lake.

Carefully, we worked out way back to the cabin area and shut off the autopilot. I took the wheel and lowered the power so the boat slowed substantially. Not far off I spotted a small bay cut into the land far from whatever the brown curved line might be.

“I think we should try to find a place to tie up for the night.”

Margaret nodded agreement.

It took at least another hour to get that far. A long narrow dock jutted into the bay. This dock had a boat already tied to it. A boat that looked menacing, military with projectile weapons along both sides and the bow.

Apprehension chilled my blood, but we needed to stop so I took the boat along the opposite side of the dock and as close to land as the rising lakebed allowed. As I jumped after Margaret onto the dock, I heard a whizzing sound, and watched pieces of the dock explode skyward.

“What are you standing there for?” Margaret shouted and grabbed my sleeve tugging me after her.

“Trying to understand what they’re doing.” I told her.

“They want to kill you and me,” she cried now running toward land.

Bullets, I thought like Jim used to kill himself with that ancient gun from his grandfather. Which was when one kicked my right leg from under me. I crashed to the wet sandy ground at the end of the dock yanking Margaret with me.

When she hit, her hand slammed hard. I saw her eyes rolled back so all I could see was the whites. Then they closed and I felt sure she was dead. That happened in the second or two required for me to reach the ground. I managed to break my fall with my hands and arms, scrapping flesh from both. The bullets didn’t stop screaming angrily over us. I saw several were illuminated red and desperately tried to crawl to safety, pulling Margaret’s body with me. I lifted me head slightly, and felt a slash of heat burrow along my scalp.

Margaret pushed around me and walked to the dock. I grabbed my gear and went after her. “Do you know anything about these engines?”

“What?” She glanced back and I saw a look of amazement in her eyes. “Don’t you know what this is?”

“The boat that will take us down the River Styx?” I tried humor and failed.

“Whatever, this is a sleeper. You live onboard. Why would we need a boat to live in unless we’re traveling far from here?”

“Guess we’re supposed to discover that.” I tossed my gear on the deck, climbed over the rail and helped her.

“What I need to know is how to use these engines.”

She looked at me and away. “There should be a starter switch.”

“What powers them?”

“Gasoline, I guess.”

“Okay to sound even more ignorant, what is gasoline?”

“Now you’re kidding and I’m not laughing.”

I walked to where I saw two chairs bolted onto the deck. “I’m not. I really do not know.”

“It’s a fossil fuel.”

“Made from fossils of what? And why destroy fossils?”

She actually sighed like she was dealing with either an idiot, or miscreant. “Okay I’ll explain once we are moving. This place really creeps me out.” She used her thumb over her shoulder to indicate what.

I sat in the deck chair examining the dials and switches. I found one that read starter. I pressed it and both engine roared to life.

Margaret was untying the ropes holding us to the dock. When she finished she sat in the chair next to me. I watched her slim hands as she began moving levers and toggling switched on and off. The boat reversed away from the dock. When far enough, she turned a small wheel, did something else with the levers and switched and the boat went into the lake and at a reasonable speed.

Ten minutes later, she went below deck. I heard her cheer, and watched her returned with two bottles of cold beer and sandwiches.

She ate and drank, swallowed and said, “Now about fossil fuels.”

I ate and listened to the strangest story imaginable. People actually pumped rotted plants and animals that had fossilized in the earth and converted the sludge into a highly combustible fuel.

“How long did this all take to first discover it, learn what it was and did, then process it and then create engines to burn it. Must’ve been decades and now you tell me fossil fuels poisoned the air and water too?”

She nodded, smiled without speaking and drank more beer.

“Did anyone back them think that the sun created endless energy?”

She shook her head still grinning.

I laughed. “People.” I looked into the distance, all sides around us, and saw nothing but water.

“Um, where do you think we are?” I asked.

She looked too and placed her bottle down. “Far away from that awful place with all those ancient weapons and dead people.”

Didn’t see that, but decided not to tell her.

“Now where do we go?”

She looked at a compass set into the panel before us. “This indicates we’re heading southwest.”

Where there may be nothing, I thought and leaned back.

“What’d he do?”

“You’ll think I’m, oh fuck it. He raped me. I killed him. I’m here. End of story.”

“Okay. So to enter a portal we must’ve committed something deemed unacceptable to the people around us.”

“But I didn’t mean to…” She hesitated and placed her hands on my chest. “I did it.”

I took her hands in mine and lead her to the chairs on the far side of the porch. “I ran away from a pandemic. I’m an immune. I was told I could save people, but in the end it looked like I’d die with them so I ran.” I guided her into the chair, dropped her hands and sat alongside her.

“I don’t care what you did,” she said softly.

“Nor do I care about what you did. Here we get a chance to start over, hopefully.” I thought of Attrea and felt the love I had for her swell in my heart.

“What if when we exit this place through whatever portal we step into a different time as well?”

I looked at her. “Would you want to return to twenty eighteen?”

She shook her head. “But if I end up in your time will I catch the virus?”

“Maybe they seal portals that lead to places destroyed by war or disease.”

“Hope so.”

“If I can get another boat, we could row across to the base of the foothills in front of the mountains.”

“I think I’d like that.” She stood and walked down the steps, waited until I followed and went to the small outbuilding where we’d spent the night.

Inside, I located a small metal door no more then ten inches high by six wide. There was three holes drilled into the right center large enough for fingers. I slowly inserted my fingers, felt a lever and managed to pull it down. Nothing happened, then a siren wailed loud enough to double us over with severe pain.

I dropped to my knees, hands over both ears, but it only helped marginally. I began to think I’d made a serious error in portal selection. Then the noise stopped abruptly.

Margaret was crying. I struggled to my feet and went to her, helped her up and put an arm around her shoulders. She folded into my chest arms around me hands clutching as if should she release me death would scratch the breath from her lungs.

I hugged her not wanting an emotional attachment but unwilling to abandon her to the pain and sorrow she seemed to carry or drag behind her.

When she was quiet, I released her and stepped back. “You okay now?”

Her eyes moved as she examined my face seeking examining. “Thank you.”

I nodded. “Let’s get outside.” I went and opened the door, looked at the dock and saw a boat tied up. It was far larger than a rowboat, appeared to have a cabin, and twin engines hung off the stern. I frowned while looking, not understanding what I saw. Nothing from home looked the same.

“Unlikely cause if there was then the weapons would be scattered around.”

“Unless there is someone here who collects them and brings them here.”

“I like the idea that it is a requirement to leave weapons behind. The idea of some guy walking around collecting weapons dropped by the dead is beyond creepy.”

I nodded. “True. Yeah requiring them to leave their weapons here would make it safer wherever they went.”

“You know what else this means?” She waved a hand at the room behind us.

“No what?”

“That the portals or gates have been functioning for hundreds, if not thousands of years.”

“Good god and all of them leading here. But if these are some kind of timeline entry points then that makes the actual timeline more fluid, not as stable as scientists believe.”

“Maybe the timeline we lived in is stable but has a core that functions as a way for travelers to move though time.”

Also unnerving, I thought. “Invisible until you enter any portal. I entered one where there were auto-laser canons set to fire on anyone entering that gate. Nearly killed me, but I wasn’t so far in that I couldn’t exit which I did as quickly as possible.”

I had finished washing the dishes and she drying. We went through the weapons room and back onto the front porch.

“I think I’m more confused now than I was when I left home,” I said.

“Yeah well welcome to my world.”

“None of this makes sense. Are the people who enter portals preselected or can anyone enter?” I recalled William’s screening and knew at least part of the answer. “Anyone can enter, but not everyone is allowed to proceed far beyond the entry point.”

“Or they are preselected but must prove they’re not whatever, evil or mentally disturbed, or something and if they are they’re sent back.”

Guessing will not provide answers. “I wonder if we will be allowed to exit through any portal or if who or whatever selected us will also select of we are allowed to go.”

Margaret looked like she was about to explode. “I just want to get the hell away from here and try to find what I’m supposed to do next. Until you arrived, I felt like I was living in a maze built to cause confusion.”

I laughed lightly. “And I fixed that?”

“No, I guess not, but maybe together we can discover answers.”

“Worth a try. Where’s the brick wall you trailed?”

She pointed to the left. “I think it’s a dead end.”

“Except for the couples, who were with you.”

She walked close to me, balled up her fists and I thought she would pummel me. “Please stop.”

“What?”

“Talking in circles. You look and sound like a guy who knows stuff. I’m just the nurse who shot and killed her husband and then…” She ran down as if realizing she’d revealed more than she’d intended to.

How could portals or gates connect to different times from tis place? Is this a central what, hub? All portals connect to it? Are they timeline portals that can be entered from any time in history?I knew vaguely that a theory existed about the timeline having entry points, but it was just a theory. No one actually time traveled. At lease not anyone the general public knew about. Now I thought maybe it’s not a theory but fact.

The house was also built of old stone blocks some as large as three feet long two high. The double hung windows had eight panes and all needed cleaning. There was a wide veranda set about five feet off the ground with six wooden steps up. The treads appeared worn in the center as if they’d been used thousands of times. I expected them to be unstable, but they were solid. Once on the porch, I glanced back to find Margaret standing on the ground with plates and forks in her hands.

We entered the house through the carved wood front door with a brass doorknob and I froze. The front room was filled with historical artifacts that spanned centuries. I located the kitchen, placed the pans in the sink and ran the water hoping it would be hot enough. My mind however was still thinking about what I’d just seen. After a minute I realized every item in that room was war related. Swords, spears, long bows and arrows, handguns, rifles and even a few, hand held lasers.

I reached and touched a wood handled lance I swore could be from ancient Egypt. The wood crumbled in my hand. Jerking my hand away, I brushed it off on the leg of my jeans.

“Doesn’t make sense,” I said to no one.

“What doesn’t?” Margaret asked.

Slightly startled, I half turned to her, caught myself and said, “Why are there so many weapons out there? Why would anyone leave them here and if that’s required, where did they all go where it would be safe enough to be unarmed?”

You’re unarmed, I thought and shrugged.

“I don’t know where everyone went. I mean if you walk around some you will discover that we are the only people here.”

“That’s creepy,” I told her and thought about the pandemic. “Wonder if there was a pandemic here?”

“You don’t know where the wall leads so maybe it’s not the best way to go.”

She lowered her now empty plate to the floor. Dropped the fork on it and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Her movements made her look like a child, but no one would send a child through a portal, would they?I wondered.

“How old are you?”

Seriously?” She stood and walked to me. “Twenty-five, I think, maybe twenty-six. You?”

I laughed. “Thirty-three.”

“So why are you here?”

“Fleeing the pandemic.”

“Pandemic? What’s that?”

I leaned back in shock so quickly my head banged the, stonewall of the building. “An incurable disease that’s killing almost everyone. How could you not have heard about it?”

“I would’ve heard if there was a pandemic, but since I didn’t there wasn’t one.”

“What do you do, or did?”

“Online news reporter. I covered major stories.”

Confusion, fear, shock, all ran like tiny prickly fingers up my spine and spread down my arms and into my chest. “I don’t understand what you mean by online.”

She stared at me. “You are joking right?”

I shook me head.

“How do you communicate with others?”

I reached up, pushed my hair aside and tapped the place behind my ear where my implant sat. “I have an implant.”

She stepped closer and touched the bump there. “I don’t understand what that is or how you got one. I read about it in some science proposals but the tech is truly out of reach.”

“What year was it when you entered the portal?”

“The gate?” I nodded and she continued. “2018.”

Wow,I thought and tried to understand how that might be possible.

“What about you?’ she asked.

“Um, twenty-one seventy three.”

“Oh that’s, you’re just making things up to confuse me right?”

“We have comm-units with which we do most of our local communications, but we use the implant for everything else.”

“So you can be tracked?”

“No. I turned that off when I escaped. Now that I’m here I doubt it will even work.” I gathered up the plates, pan, spatula, and forks. “Let’s take this back and clean them. I’d like to look around the house too.”

She nodded thoughtfully but the way her eyes widened, and looked quickly away, I saw something more than curiosity. She’s frightened of something, I thought. Is it me or something about the house?I couldn’t tell which, but it made me feel a bit nervous.

“What gate did you use?”

“From the other side, it opened onto a long winding path through a forest with trees arching over the pathway. It went on for what I though might be several miles, but wasn’t really that long.”

“So where are your friends now?” I asked.

She winced as if she thought I was suddenly dangerous.

“I’m not going to hurt you, won’t even touch you,” I assured her.

She sat on my somewhat depleted backpack. “I don’t know. I woke up several days ago and was alone.”

“No message?”

“None. I guess I should’ve expected it since I was the fifth and they were two bonded couples.” She looked at me, eyelids half closed. “I need rest.”

I nodded and pointed at the pack. “Use that for a pillow.”

“What will you use?”

“I’ll sit against the wall. I’ll be fine.” Before I found a spot that looked semi-comfortable, she was asleep.

Thunder lessened during the middle of the night. My companion cried out several times as if some inner pain or conflict gnawed at her dreams. I started to go and comfort her, but stopped wondering how she’d feel about a stranger doing so. I was about to remind myself that watching others suffer was not something I’m comfortable doing, but when I thought it, the past few months reminded me what I was instead. I walked away from them and they died.

How long can I do this without proper sleep? I leaned back listening to the storm fade and finally faded myself.

The sound of a sweet female voice singing woke me. I opened my eyes to find she’d changed clothing and was cooking something over the fire in the fireplace. As I stood, I cleared my throat. She glanced over her shoulder and said, “I found some eggs at the abandoned farm behind us. In the kitchen there I grabbed what I needed to cook and stuff for us to eat with.”

“That sound fantastic,” I said and stretched. “I’m gonna go outside a few minutes, be right back.” Outside the ground was damp, but the sky cloudless blue. I relieved myself, squatted by the lake and used the cold clear water to wash my hair and face. I shook my head hard to get the excess water out of my hair and went back for breakfast.

She was sitting eating, nodded to a plate she’d fixed for me. I grabbed it and joined her.

“Where are you going from here?” I asked.

“Don’t really know yet. Before the storm I was following an old brick wall that wound back and forth in curves. It cuts deep into the forest but I could not find its end. Then the rain started and I was lost so I ran back here and, well, you were here.”

I refused to respond to her emotions. Any kind of commitment right then was seriously unwelcome. “Why did you choose the wall?”

“To follow?” She glanced up. I nodded. “The others I told you about went that way.” She shrugged. “Didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t believe they left me behind and thought if I caught up I might rejoin them.” Se shook her head, took a bite of eggs, swallowed and drank water. “The rain changed those plans.”

Immediately after she succeeded, the noise level dropped significantly.

“Come and sit,” I said and pointed at my gear. She seemed wary, but finally did as I proposed. I saw her shivering and wondered if I could start a fire in the small fireplace on the wall built into the wall opposite us.

There were spilt logs, and a stack of dry kindling. I did what I’d seen online created a cone shaped assembly of logs with broken up kindling in the middle. There was a long box, that when I slid it opened, I found old time matches. “This may not work,” I said. “They look old and ready to disintegrate.”

“They’ll light,” she spoke quietly her voice quavering from her being wet and cold. “We left them here when we passed though some months ago.”

I looked at her face, and nodded. “Well here goes.” I did as I’d seen and dragged the tip with a blue ball shape across the abrasive surface. A flame sprang to life and I lowered it and lit the kindling. A minute later, heat wavered off the now burning logs. I rubbed my hands in front of the fire, and then again turned to my guest, or host. I couldn’t decide which.

“If you’ll let me, I’ve a spare set of clothing in my pack. You’re welcome to change into them and that way dried your stuff.”

She frowned and really seemed to be attempting to study me, and then she nodded and stood.

I removed jeans and a woolen long sleeve red shirt, handed them to her and went to stand by the window alongside the front door. I watched wavering screens of rain, heard her undressing and dressing behind me.

“Okay,” she said and when I returned to the fire I watched her suspend her things in hooks set into the wood beam mantle.

“I’m Stanton,” I told her, resisted the impulsive need to hold out my hand.

“Stanton? That your last name?”

“No first, it was some forgotten ancestor’s surname, I was told once.”

She nodded almost dismissively. “I’m Margaret and I grateful you were here.”

“You said you and others were here before now. Is that recently?”

She kind of scrunched up her face and shook her head. “We came through the gate at least a year ago. No one could decide where to go so we’ve been wandering around doing whatever needed to earn enough money to survive.”

I thought I should try and make peace with myself, maybe contact I didn’t know who and could not have since I tossed my comm-unit in the river days ago. Instead, I leaned back and stared at the edge of the black clouds now quickly chasing my drifting boat.

A loud click startled me. It was followed by the whine of an electric motor. The boat began moving faster and faster still. The clouds appeared to be slowing, but the opposite was true. I was moving rather quickly, and within several minutes, the boat slid alongside a dock that extended into the lake about fifty feet.

When the boat slowed enough, I grabbed my gear, leapt onto the dock and ran to shore. I managed to reach a small stone outbuilding before the downpour, drown out all sound with the crescendo of thunder and lightning emphasizing my lucky escape. I even managed to stay dry. The door closed tightly. The only light as far as I could tell came from outside.

I felt exhausted and truly grateful for whoever activated the homing device built into the rowboat. I sat on my knapsack since there was nothing inside the stone and brick building. The storm built in strength until the sound of it was all I heard. Out the corner of my eye, I saw the door I’d used swing open and half-stood to close it stopping as a hand reached inside using the door jamb for support.

“Here wait, let me,” I shouted to be heard of the roar of rain.

A loud female scream was the response. She peered around the door soaking wet, blonde hair stringy and wild, large blue eyes widened by surprise, I imagined.

“I won’t hurt you,” I shouted and walk closer. “Give me your hand and I’ll steady you so you might close the door before we both drown.”

That seemed enough to calm her into accepting my offer. Her hand was tiny compared to mine, wet and very cold. I clasped hers tightly and pulled some as she wedged inside the building and then fought the wind and rain to close the door.

Knowing I had no choice, I did and nothing happened. I nearly cried out my relief, but bit the inside of my cheek to remain silent.

“Seems you’re okay to stay.” He smiled warmly. “I saw you eating but here the sun set early so you may want to get on the lake soon.”

“I can use your boat?” I sounded as surprised as I felt after what he’d said about the boat earlier.

His head moved to the side. “It will return when you disembark.”

He walked me back to the lake, looked at the distant mountains and pointed to one I could barely see. “Tis possible that’s the one you’re looking for.”

I stared at it trying to fit it into the picture I received from the owl, and failed. “Perhaps,” I said, dragged the blue boat into the lake, climbed in and began rowing.

“Thanks,” I said to William, who lifted a hand to wave and then turned and walked away.

Hot sun, sparkling water, sunlight reflected, exhausting labor, I tried to ignore it all but the pain in my chest, shoulders, arms, and upper back refused me. I pulled the oars in, stowed them securely and looked around for the first time since I began. I was close to the center of the lake as far as I could see, and the shorelines were distant glimmering mirage like lines of greens and brown. Occasionally, I saw a cut between trees, which I thought might be rivers or streams that fed the lake.

A drink from my canteen helped some, but I really needed a nap. So I arranged everything as carefully as possible, using my folded shirt for a pillow, and dozed off.

The boat rocking woke me. Then thunder banged loudly and seemed directly overhead. Fingers of lightning crept spider like across distant black clouds that turned blue trailing the bolts. Hastily, I pulled the oars out and jammed them into the oarlocks, snugged them in place and began rowing as fast as I could manage. All the while I kept an eye on the approaching storm wondering if I’d be electrocuted, or drown should storm created waves capsize the boat.

Of course, I chose that moment to reflect on what I’d done to the people back home, and too decided that if I died there I likely deserved to die.

The edge of the storm reached the lake and I was still at least a quarter mile from the nearest shore. My arms screamed agony for each row and I knew I would not succeed when a strong boom of thunder vibrated through me followed by a massive lightning strike exploding several trees, I determined by the debris tossed skyward.

This is damn nasty, I thought desperately, tried to row faster but could not. My arms finally quit I could not lift them high enough to row.