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.

The field around me was tall grass, with several varieties of wildflowers. I hesitated once or twice to check them for smell, but none seemed perfumed. Insects fluttered around but none landed on me. The air smelled clean and healthy and when I did a mental comparison to home after the pandemic settled in, the difference was stunning.

Finally after about and hour, I stopped and sat on a boulder ate an MRE, a Rubin without bread, I’d packed when assembling my go pack. It was salty, but nourishing and filling. A long drink from my canteen and I felt better than I thought I would before stopping.

I climbed onto the rock and looked around. Not far off I saw a small boat with oars that had been dragged onto the shore and had a rope tied to a sawn tree trunk.

So someone lives here, I thought and smiled. Jerk. It wasn’t long before I reached where the blue painted boat sat in the sandy soil. I climbed in and sat, wondering if I dared borrow it to cross the lake. I didn’t hear anyone approaching until a male voice said not unkindly, “I do hope you’re not planning on taking my boat today.”

I jerked back and stood, which caused the boat to rock and me to lose my balance. I tripped and stumbled, grabbed for the side of the boat, and then felt strong hands on my arms.

“Steady as you go, lad.”

I looked up half-smiling with an image in my mind of how ridiculous I must’ve looked and said, “No sir, although truthfully I did wonder on it.”

“Would make my life a bit difficult if you did.”

I finally stood on the earth next to him. “No, I would never take it without asking first and then not if you told me so.”

My companion stood a good four, or five inches taller then me, had thick red hair caught in a long braid. His eyes were pale blue, he needed a shave, had what could only be termed a barrel chest of taut muscles, wide shoulders and word faded jeans, a red and white checked shirt and bare feet.

“I’m Stanton,” I said as calmly as possible.

“William,” he replied and held out his massive hand.

“I’m trying to get to the mountains on the other side of the lake.”

He nodded thoughtfully and looked back the way I’d come into his land. “Used to be more like you, but something happened back there I suppose and now, well you’re the first in several weeks.”

I leaned my head to the side and, filled with a deep curiosity, asked, “Back there?”

He chuckled, deep in his chest. “The gateway.” His thumb jammed at the forest where I entered. “That’s my job here. I’m the greeter or the bouncer.”

“You’re confusing me.”

“Perhaps you may want me to think such, but there is nothing about you that would fit in here.” He waved at the valley that included the lake and forests beyond.”

“Where do they go from here?”

His bushy red eyebrows rose as his eyes widened. “Not my place to know only to keep those who would cause harm from passing beyond here.” He pointed to a white two-story house set back from the lake. “Come, we will have a beer and talk.”

The idea of a cold beer made my mouth water. So I followed, sat in a white wood rocker on the porch and accepted the bottle from him. It went down smooth and felt like life was renewed.

“Now lad, do tell me what brought you though my gateway.”

I was suddenly wary of explaining about the pandemic, so said, “I met a woman Attrea, she helped me find a portal to escape people who wanted me dead.”

He frowned. “You’re a criminal then?”

“No I did nothing wrong.” Except refuse to die to save dozens, I lectured myself. “Surely you’ve met others who tired of the life they lived there and desired, or badly needed a new start.”

“Some, about half I turned back. But I know of this woman Attrea. She still has her brown owl?”

“White with golden eyes,” I corrected.

He nodded and smiled. “Come.” He stood and walked around the house, entered a small outbuilding and held the door for me. Inside I saw a device like those used to detect metal weapons. “Pass though.” He pointed.

Boldly now, I walked into the green forest. The air was stifling hot and humid. Sweat soaked me before I’d walked fifty paces. I stopped and looked around, hoping to find any signs of life other than the moss.

The first red laser sliced through my backpack so my possessions dropped out into a pile behind me. I dove to the ground, heard a hissing, smelled burnt vegetation, rolled to fit myself behind a large downed tree.

I grabbed and stuffed my gear into the damage backpack and hugged it tightly to my chest.

Another hissing red laser strike, sliced off a piece of heel off my right boot. I ran for the portal opening. Behind me following like feasting starving creatures, red laser beams swept up and down.

My second dive and I was through back to where the owl now seemed to be impatiently waiting.

“Thanks for that,” I said as I sat and examined my boot. The entire heel was not gone, but walking would prove interesting.

I sat there for about thirty minutes, repaired and carefully repacked my gear, and then stood and waved for the owl to lead. It did and we went even farther into the forest, far enough that I began to wonder where I was thinking the forest I entered to escape could not be that large.

The owl was gone suddenly. I felt a sigh build in my chest and was ready to give up and return to my attempted escape to the ocean when it appeared out of the woods a hundred feet ahead.

A third portal, I walked to where the owl sat, then looked where it had appeared. Another arch but this one hewn from a large boulder and beyond it was paradise. I decided I’d need a half-day to reach the lake in the distance. Trees lined two side of the water and beyond was a mountain range, not jagged and miles high, but certainly too high for easy climbing.

Again I glanced at the owl. This time it did a slow blink as if it encouraged me to enter.

“Okay,” I said, although a bit scared after the last portal. “Tell Attrea that I will search for her until I find her or die in the attempt.” I knew I sounded dramatic, but really had no way of knowing if the owl understood, or if that was what Attrea desired from me. Maybe it was the owl’s way to get me out of her life. I didn’t know and didn’t really care, but saying it felt right. Occasionally that is all we have to press us forward. Leave everything behind, add recent events to the strings of beads that memories form, and bury them where you either find them if needed, or forget them to live the future without their burden.

Beyond the fifty feet of safety where I could return and exit, I saw nothing to alert me to a threat. No lasers, no projectile weapons, just peaceful serenity. When I looked behind me, the owl was gone. This then, I thought and headed for the lake.

I turned from the window and found her standing so close I brushed against her as I turned. Carefully I placed my hands on her shoulders and drew her to me. As I bent to kiss her, I heard wings fluttering, feathers spreading. The kiss was brief, her lips softer and warmer then I imagined. The contact exploded in my chest, made me feel weak with the hunger of desire.

Then I felt pressure on my uninjured shoulder and looked to see the owl, its talons draped causally so their tips touched the muscles below.

“I would not harm her,” I told the amazing creature. “Not ever.”

It leaned and tilted its head so our eyes were on the same level mesmerizing. I felt invaded and also invited.

“Not ever,” I repeated in a near silent whisper.

The owl blinked. In its eyes I saw a mountainous terrain with deep valleys, blue cloudless skies lush tree filled landscape dotted with meadows and lakes throughout the floor of the valleys. At the top of view I had, I saw a single pointed ledge of flat stone, which extended far into open space from the horizontal peak of a mountain like a finger pointing out something impossible to see clearly.

Then the owl left with the same fluttering of feathers after it imprinted in my mind the vision it gave me in a microsecond. I had not moved my hands from her shoulders and she had not pulled away. Her eyes locked with mine drawing me emotionally closer, so close I thought I could feel her heartbeat through the distance between us.

I knew I was beginning a journey of the heart, and struggling against it felt more like I plundered a priceless treasure. This time when our lips met, the contact was immersion, me into her, her into me, and I was lost to her.

An hour later, sweat drying on us both, her head on my chest, eyes closed, I cried for what I’d lost, for what I’d done and not. My hand sought the warmth of her flesh, strengthening me, stabilizing my confusion and I knew something else then. I would need to find her somewhere else, perhaps even some when else. The green cabin’s purpose brought me to her, yet she was correct when she said I sought her.

On the third night while the moon was still dominate, I carefully slid out of bed, dressed, ignoring the pain, took my boots and pack and left the cabin through the rear door.

This time the path was dirt edges lined with white stones that captured the moon’s illumination and lit the path as it wound into the forest. I pulled on my boots and followed its invitation and after several minutes saw that the white owl waited ahead. As I reached it, the owl spread it wings and lead me deeper into the dense woods.

We passed the portal with the arch and went beyond until we reached what I knew must be a second portal. The owl flew into it and returned letting me know it was safe for me to do the same if needed.

Stopping to look, I surveyed a forest where every living thing was covered with a thick dense green moss. Nothing but the moss seemed alive. I glanced back at the owl. It stared impassively.

Darkness is often not the comfort we seek. When children it can be a refuge, a time that wraps around us and greets us when we drift into sleep. As adults darkness can be a double-edged sword comfort danger, separate or melded into one. Closing your eyes greeting sleep that feels almost greedy, like it will absorb the pain life uses to slice you open revealing places inside never meant for exposure. Or lets you slip into it as you recall happiness from recent events you never understand as succinctly until that moment.

For me grief is a brick by brick wall that instead of protecting me hollows me out with waves of sorrow coming unexpectedly. And it is always while I sleep that the worst of the anguish I hold is a knife throwers paradise with me as the target. I wake abruptly, the horror of memory demanding action. Then I recall that there is nothing that can be done to undo the past, words, deeds, and even things left undone unsaid.

I awoke then with a sensation of death standing directly over me looking down into my terrified eyes revealing the emptiness that only death can fill. Its breath smelled not of things dead and rotting, but sweet like I was standing in the center of a huge rose, garden.

“Sh,” death said. “It is not your time, but I visit to press my thumb against your beating heart so you always remember me.”

The pain was sharp and severe. Heart attack, I thought, but it faded almost instantly. I was standing face pressed against the glass of a window, didn’t recognize anything outside in the dancing sparkling moonlight.

Then I felt a touch of tenderness and heard a quiet warm feminine voice. “You are safe here. Sometimes the worst of our memories declare us unfit to continue and scream in voices too frightening to be heard while we sleep. You will heal physically, but few of us heal on the inside where we need healing the most. When you are fit, I will show you more places that can lead you to lands unlike any in you best dreams and memories.”