I sat back, put my hands behind my head and stopped when the wound in my shoulder complained. Then the painkillers slipped in and the pain was gone. For the first time in a day or two, I felt normal. Maybe because, of Margaret a bit better than normal. Thinking of her reminded me I hadn’t dressed. A shrug and a grin solved that problem.

But after several hours as the sky began to darken Margaret hadn’t joined me. I climbed down into the cabin, quickly donned clothing, and went to the sleeping chamber. Margaret was missing.

Thinking she was in the tiny bathroom named the john, I ate and drank. As I completed the bottle of ale I found in the refrigerator, the boat shifted as if something heavy had dropped onto the upper deck. Anxiety built quickly in my chest as adrenaline’s flame fired through me.

Not for the first time since arriving, I longed for a weapon. A quick search of the cabin provided a heavy wrench. With that in hand, I carefully climbed up and rose slowly enough to peer over the edge of the deck. There I saw Margaret with her feet dangling over the side of the boat. She was wearing a red bikini so small as to be nearly invisible. The material it was crafted from shimmer as she moved making it appear alive.

As I approached her, I thought I saw a tendril of smoke curl away from her head. A chill raised the hair on the back of my neck and I hesitated.

“Hi,” I said hearing doubt in the word so it really sounded like a question.

She glanced back blue eyes not quite right as if her pupils were no longer round and there seemed to be a ring of red-gold around their edges.

She smiled and shook her head and patted the spot alongside her. “Sit with me.”

Feeling oddly apprehensive, I did but when I examined her face and eyes up close, everything appeared normal. She placed her arm around my waist and her head on my shoulder. The feeling of attraction that kept growing in me swelled and I used my arm to hug her against me.

Strange illusion, I thought and questioned if it was an illusion or something else entirely. What the hell is this place? Where did Attrea’s owl send me and why? I bit back the questions I wanted to ask Margaret, which was who are you really? And why were you exactly where I landed after the storm? Coincidence? Or for some unknown reason planned?

She leaned and kissed my cheek gently, lips soft and warm. I turned enough so our lips met and the questions I had for her dissolved into forgotten memory.

Margaret appeared many minutes later looking completely different. Her blonde hair was radiant, her skin flawless and when she caught me looking at her, her smile was devastating as it lit her eyes. She wore a cream-colored flannel robe snugged tightly around her narrow waist. Her feet were bare and my need flagged my will.

Her back was facing me for no more than a few moments, but on the reverse of the robe I saw the pagan Tree of Life as above so below. I felt my eyes widen, saw the tree’s colors change from brown to living greens with red fruit. The entire tree shivered like a breeze passed across it. The leaves wavered, fluttered, and some drifted from the branches to the forest floor below. There I witnesses small animals scurrying, climbing, actively engaged with the Tree of Life. Blue birds suddenly filled the tree and were gone as quickly as they appeared. Then beneath the largest, longest branch I saw Margaret. She wore nothing but rays of sunlight. She lifted both arm slowly overhead, and when her hands almost met above her, arcs of blue-white energy passed between her fingertips in a shower of brilliant illumination.

Casually, judging from how she moved, Margaret lowered her hands and used them to invite me to join her.

I blinked twice, and heard Margaret as she walked over casually and sat alongside me. The vision dissipated when she said, “The shower felt amazing.” She glanced down as if trying to keep from letting me, know I smelled and looked filthy.

I forced a grin and tried to enjoy her not too subtle hint. “If you’ll take the captain’s chair, I think I’ll give it a try.”

She nodded and swung her legs into the chair, revealing and hiding. The smile still, curving her lips.

I believe that’s the moment I gave up. We were alone. There was nothing to convince either of us there was even a future beyond the moment we lived then.

The shower was better than anticipated. I shut the water off and reached blindly for a towel. A small delicate hand put a towel in my hand. I looked and watched her robe fold up around her feet with the Tree of Life on top and then added the towel to the pile. Margaret stepped into my embrace. She was soft and warm. Our fingers explored. Our lips met with enough passion that I felt there was never any place I’d rather be then with her.

Resting later with her still in my arms, I wondered if I’d just betrayed Attrea and decided that truly I would likely never see her again. The green cabin might be a place she could not ever leave if her true role was that of a guide for people like me, and Margaret seeking an escape to a safer place.

That made me smile. Up until now there is nothing safe about this place whatever it is and wherever it is and even whenever it is. Margaret stirred, but didn’t waken. I smelled her hair and her liking both.

Then frustration exploded in my chest. Where the hell, are we, and what the hell are we doing? It feels like we are moving aimlessly through a land of magic and not necessarily good magic. Things appear and disappear. In fact we haven’t seen much good here other than each other and both of us are actually criminals on the run.

But they can never find us or apprehend us or even stop us now. 

That produced a good feeling. I carefully moved from beneath Margaret without waking her, nearly groaned with the sudden jolt of pain from several locations, but worked my way onto the deck before allowing myself the relief and then did groan.

Damn that hurts. I located the first aid kit from the duffel bag and dug through it until I found painkillers, dry swallowed three and lowered myself into the captain’s chair. The sun was high in the absolute center of the sky. The distant horizon with the brown smudge looked closer. I could see shapes like a forest line, and mounds of hills. There was a line of silver that flickered and wavered and I realized it might be a waterfall.

Margaret was rousing when I returned. Her blonde hair was badly rumpled, but her large blue eyes looked clearer like she could focus normally. As she reached up to stretch and twist, her torso, I admired her beauty and felt physically attracted, seriously attracted.

Don’t, I warned myself, but there was a hint of feeling that was not brotherly. Come on, the voice in my head said, you may never see another woman including Attrea and maybe this is meant to happen. But I shook it off and waited by the door so I didn’t disturb her.

As she finished and looked around her eyes widened slightly as she saw me studying her.

“I badly need a shower,” she said sounding shy.

Realizing she given me what I needed to get her on our boat, I said, “I think there might be one on the boat.”

“That would be amazing,” she said and let her bare feet touch the floor. She glanced down and added, “Even my feet look like I’ve been living in trash for years.”

“Looks okay to me,” I said and shook my head feeling foolish.

Her reaction was not what I expected. “Thanks,” she said and smiled, then added, “Ugh my teeth feel terrible.” She ran her tongue visibly over them opening her mouth just enough for the gesture to seem like an invitation.

I laughed lightly and pointed toward the boat. “Come girl, let’s grab our gear and get back on the boat. That is if you can walk.”

She was nodding as she walked to me, stumbled just enough for me to reach out and grab her. Again her eyes met mine, but filled with a touch of mischievousness.

“I’ll be fine,” she said as long as you’re there to help me if I need it. Placing my hand under her chin, I tilted her head so I could really look in her eyes. Her lips parted slightly, and I was a second from lowering mine to hers, when a loud crash outside jerked me away.

Margaret yelped, grabbing my hand, and then broke out laughing.

I was looking for the source but said over my shoulder, “How could that have possibly been funny?” Which just made her laugh harder.

While she leaned against the doorsill, I collected our gear, stuffed what I could into the duffel bag, shouldered my backpack on my uninjured side and then placed a hand on her lower back to guide her.

There were a few missteps, and a stumble or two, but we two the wounded warriors finally were aboard and the boat was untied backing steadily into the lake.

What’s gonna happen next? I thought and as I dumped our gear on the lower deck heard a shower running. My sigh was audible, my desire growing, my feet dragging as I climbed up and into the captain’s chair.

Gently I prodded the cloth bag, but that told me nothing. I stepped outside finding the stone walkway frigid. I was certain my toes curled in response. Once out I looked in every direction, saw no one, or no one moving and wanted nothing more then to go back inside where it was warm.

Instead, I grabbed the duffel bag and found it quite heavy so dragged it after me, and closed the door once back inside the small building. With my back against the door, I saw Margaret sitting up.

“Why’d you go outside? This place might be as dangerous as the creepy house place.” She stood, looking stronger but still in need of rest and sleep. With one hand for support using whatever was available, she approached.

“You should be in bed,” I said and heard the weariness of my words. I pulled the duffel bag where she might see it. “I heard someone outside. They left this behind.”

Her face showed the scowl she must’ve felt. “With my luck it’s a bag of old weapons.”

I shrugged and opened the top. Inside was, clothing, bedding, boots, and, a large first aid kit. As I pulled stuff out and spread them on Margaret’s bunk, I remembered the large bird, now seriously wondering if that was Attrea’s owl and she had it, bring me the duffel bag.

But there was female clothing and toiletries and I knew I was wrong. Wrong and very disappointed. Yet I was unwilling to give up on the idea that I saw her owl.

After it was empty, Margaret went though everything and selected what she could use and wear. What was left was enough to keep me warm and comfortable for days.

By morning I knew we needed to leave. After dressing in clean warm clothing, I pulled on my boots and stepped outside. The boat, our boat, was where we’d tied it down. A quick check showed me that nothing was missing, nothing added.

“Now by what means will you get Margaret onboard?” I stood on the deck, felt the boat moving with the small waves that always seemed to be moving across water whether it was a pond, or an ocean. It was a bit comforting. As far as I could see when looking across the lake, we were alone.

I was breathing hard and felt a bit weak. She closed her eyes and was asleep instantly.

“Since you left the green cabin, friend, you been fired on with laser canons, almost drown in a nasty storm while rowing a borrowed boat from a total stranger, rescued a lost woman, discovered a weird farm house filled with ancient weapons, discover a miraculously appearing cabin cruiser filled with comfort and necessities, been shot up by someone’s military with historic projectile weapons for unknown reasons, and now again seeking shelter and time to heal.

“Maybe I should’ve stayed and allowed the med-techs to drain me of my precious immune’s blood. Can’t see how this adventure will turn out better.”

I hobbled over and reached to close the door and stopped when I thought I heard a bird flying toward me. Sticking my head outside, I looked up and spotted far overhead, a massive bird with an amazing wingspan flying towards what we thought might be, mountains before docking.

“Could you be?” I started and saw the bird dwindle to a speck and it was gone. Hope springs eternal, grandmother often said, and right then I felt a glimmer of it.

Finding my way up to the top bunk was a process. I pulled off my boots and socks when I got there. I stretched out and attempted to at least relax.

I must’ve nodded off. Approaching footsteps jerked me awake. I quick look told me that Margaret still slept so it wasn’t her walking outside. I thought about the house with the weapons and wondered if whoever I heard was a person who either kept their weapon, or was the creepy guy Margaret mentioned who gathered them up everywhere in the middle of the night and returned to the farm house with his findings.

Pushing myself into a seated position, I climbed down from the top bunk and worked my way barefoot silently to the door. A chill breeze leaked between the door and frame, raising gooseflesh along my arms and torso.

Not a pleasant feeling. I wrapped my fingers around the door handle hoping if the intruder decided to enter, I might make that impossible. When nothing happened for several tension filled minutes, I opened the door and nearly had a heart attack. Pressed against the left outside doorframe was a brown duffel bag. It was stuffed full with something and I wondered if it contained anything helpful or stuff that would cause more pain and suffering. Maybe it’s the creepy guy’s weapons that he’s collected so far tonight.

My reaction rolled me over and into a drainage ditch alongside a road that ran up to the edge of the dock. Margaret landed across my chest. It was insufficient shelter, but we were where the rounds fired could not hit us. Blood ran off the side of my head, not as much as I feared but enough to make me worry.

I placed fingers to the side of Margaret’s neck and discovered a pulse strong and steady. My eyes filled with tears of relief. I wiped them away with my fists.

As carefully as I could I moved from under her, took off my jacket and folded it for a pillow and placed it under her head. She’d live, but the concussion she had was a grave concern. I couldn’t and didn’t really think about leaving her. She be killed and I lugged around enough regrets from my past. Besides, I’d grown to like her. She acted helpless and lost but was neither. She was tough and resilient a survivor.

I brushed sweat, dampened hair off her brow and face and as I did I saw the blood pooling under my leg.

“So here we are you unconscious and me bleeding to death and pinned down by an unknown adversary for reasons we’ll never learn.” Lifting my butt, I lowered my jeans and looked at the wound. I let out a loud sigh when I discovered it was truly a flesh wound. Not deep but painful and bloody.

I dragged my knapsack closer and dug out the first aid kit. Minutes later I was cleaned and bandaged, with one wrapped around my head.

“You should’ve let me do that,” Margaret said. She tried to sit and failed. Lowering, herself with a deep groan. “Guess I can’t.”

“It’s okay, I’ve finished.” I dragged on my jeans and carefully peered over the edge of the ditch. They were gone their ship was too. We were safe and I had no idea where we landed or where we should go from there. I did see what looked like a fishing shack.

“There’s a building there.” I pointed. “I’m going to take a look.”

She failed to answer, looked blank.

Standing, I limped over. The door was ajar, the building empty. It looked as if it had not been used in years but was fairly clean and dry. Against one wall stood bunk beds with mattresses only.

“We must recuperate.” I told no one and went back for Margaret.

She leaned heavily on me, pulling the pain from my injuries close to a scream. Her right foot scuffed the ground, which made me think she was at least mildly impaired. As I reached the first step, her weight staggered me, knees colliding with the doorsill. I twisted turned and sat heavily with Margaret wedged between me, and the doorjamb.

Me and freedom, I thought grievously and then felt bad for the sudden desire to abandon her.

Well, I thought, you did want to escape the pandemic and its horrors. I nearly smiled.

With extra care, I pressed Margaret’s shoulder so I might climb from beneath her. Succeeding only meant that I had access to the fishing shack and not the ability to close the door should weather again became a problem.

On my feet, the pain from my growing collection of injuries made itself known. Sweat beaded my brow, reminding me I’d not had a shower in days, or however long it had been since I entered the portal. I smelled ripe as my grandmother told me often.

But I could do nothing until Margaret was safe inside and preferably on a bunk. She moaned then. Squatting with the help of the wall alongside the door, I saw her eyes opened. She didn’t look like she could focus and my hopes of moving on, finding a way to Attrea sank further than earlier.

“And that was pretty damn low,” I muttered.

“What?” Margaret spoke weakly.

“We need to get you inside and on the lower bunk bed.” I pointed. She didn’t look. “Can you stand?”

“Maybe if you help me, but move slowly cause I keep feeling like I might vomit.” She turned enough to get on her knees and with me holding her hands, managed to get on her feet.

“We’re a helluva mess,” I said and with great care guided her to the bunk beds. Getting her on it was a process that ended with me lifting her legs and feet and levering her fully on her back.

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.