Capturing Today (TimeShifters Book 2) (9 page)

>Bone-chilling rain beats against the top of the tent and seeps into a puddle near the entryway. Wind cuts through the tarps. They both started an hour ago. Washing away the sound of gunfire. Hopefully some of the smell of war too.

Each time Michael almost drifts off to sleep, he falls into coughing. His eyes are bloodshot now. I bring him another cup of water, prop him up a bit, and hold it to his cracked lips. Over the course of the day his condition has gone from
I need sleep
to
I don’t know if I’ll ever get better
. 

But this is only the flu, right? As long as I keep him hydrated and he gets some good rest, he’ll be fine. Of course, it is possible to die of the flu. But that danger is reserved for babies, the elderly, and people with compromised immune systems. Not healthy twenty-year-old men.

No. Michael will be fine. He has to be.

My hands don’t agree with that assessment. They flutter around Michael. Unable to stop trying to make him better. The lack of any positive progress makes me even more spastic, like a squirrel moving the location of a nut thirty times before winter sets in. I rotate between pressing wet fabric—a make-shift washcloth—to his brow, squeezing his hand, and running my fingers through his hair. Straighten his blanket. Rub his shoulders. Feel for the reassuring pound of his heart.

Late in the afternoon, he starts tugging at his ear. Mumbling. Then he’s finally still. Raspy breaths, but he sleeps.

Fatigue causes my legs and arms to wobble. I drop my head into my hands. Food hasn’t been a priority for me since I shifted. More because of how unappealing the offerings looked than for any other reason. But my stomach groans—loudly—as if to warn me that if I deny its needs any longer, it’ll escape from my body and search out a snack on its own. I press my hands to my middle to mask any more noise. Michael has a stash of beef jerky in his backpack. It would take way too much effort for him to eat it in his condition, so really I’m doing him a favor by eating eight … nine pieces. Right? 

I’m tucking the container with the remaining jerky back into his bag when Michael starts to thrash. I drop the lid on the trunk and am at his side a moment later. How does someone move so much and not wake up? His fists clench and unclench, his lips move without words, and his head lolls from side to side.

“Relax.” I whisper, repeat once, and squeeze his forearm.

I’m so helpless. I could run back to the infirmary and find a doctor, but they’ll want to move him there. And that’s not going to make him any better. Didn’t Michael say a bunch of people died of this particular strand? Probably
because
they were all packed together. Besides, we don’t have a cure for the flu in my time, so they certainly don’t have anything now. Not to mention the hygiene practices in this time seem a bit … lacking. Yeah, no hospital.

I’m his best chance.

Is it bad to admit I’m scared? More like terrified. No, it’s okay to be scared. Fear isn’t the enemy. Not acting in the face of fear is.

I kneel next to the cot and lay my hand on his forehead. Burning.

Michael stirs at my touch. “I tried,” he mumbles. “If I …” His head rolls toward me. “My mission.” His eyes are closed, but his brow becomes a deep wrinkle. I’m not sure if he’s talking in his sleep or if he’s awake and his eyelids feel too heavy to lift. “Thought I … shift to you.” He turns in the bed, his knees drawing to his chest. “What I wanted. Why I stayed.” A sigh. His voice fades further into sleep. “I’m sorry.”

I rub my hand back and forth along his arm. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I tried,” he mumbles again. “I tried.”

The muscles in his arms completely relax. Even though he sounds like an old man with emphysema, his chest rises and falls in an even rhythm. He’s sleeping.

I push to my feet and start to pace in the four feet of space next to the bed. It’s time to admit this situation is more than I can handle. I can’t make Michael better. We either need to get to Keleusma, or we need to shift to another time and hope we move years forward, to a time with better care for him.

Which leaves me two options. Figure out what Michael’s mission was and accomplish it so we can shift.

Or there’s Erik.

He said I can call to him and he’ll come. Because of my blood. I stop walking, stare down at my bracelet, and rub my thumb over the black mark. But he meant for me to use that particular gift when I was ready to go
with
him. To Mónatos. Which is not going to happen until it’s the last option I have for locating my mom. Michael would never agree with accepting Erik’s help. He’d be so disappointed in me.

Then again … he’d be alive.

So Erik is a very real plan B. Especially since I’ve proven that I can’t successfully complete a mission. If Michael—who always does the right thing—couldn’t figure this one out, then a mess-up like me seriously has no shot. Zilch.

He will die because I’m only capable of failing. All my missions. My Pairing. Taking care of my father.

Tears burn behind my eyes. I clench my fists. Swallow a few times. I have to get ahold of myself. A pity party is the most selfish way to be spending my time.

I can do this. For Michael. Because he’d do it for me. No, it’s more than that. His life has worth.
He
has worth. Because he’s Michael. And that, right there, is enough to solicit every ounce of my energy and brainpower to fight for him.

There’s no way he’s here to win the war. One person can’t make that happen. So what? Besides Eddie, no one sticks out to me. Although, I’ve never been very good at getting a sense of what I’m supposed to do or who I should save. But Eddie is key, right? He’s a Pairing. So he needs to be kept safe.

I purse my lips together. There has to be more than just keeping Eddie safe. Besides, Eddie’s a pretty substantial man. It’s not like I can lock him in a trunk for the rest of the war. I glance back over at Michael. He won’t make it in his condition until the war ends.

Stop thinking like that.

The Shades.

I slam my hand over my mouth, covering the loud gasp that almost escaped. How did I forget about them? After Michael collapsed, the Shades parading around No Man’s Land went to the back of my mind. And it’s not like Michael’s up for engaging in a discussion. Besides, he’d tell me to stay away from them. He’d try to hide me and keep me safe.

Well, it’s my turn to watch out for him.

Okay, no more wasting time. I have to tell Eddie about the Shades. He’s the only person who will understand. Maybe he’ll even know what to do.

Tugging a coat out of the trunk, I slip my arms into the sleeves as I walk out of the tent.  Yes, I realize I’m going against my and Michael’s pact to stay within grabbing distance of each other. But I have no choice. And I’m not that concerned. Honestly, if Nicholas never saw fit to shift me before, he’s not about to suddenly find favor with me and do it now. At least, I’m fairly certain he won’t.

It’s a chance I have to take.

Oh. The rain stopped. A bleeding sun dips low on the horizon. Midnight clouds dot the sky, turning it into a patchwork quilt of cloud spaces and star spaces. Despite the late hour, soldiers still mill around. By the end of the row of tents, my shoes are waterlogged with mud. Is mudlogged a thing?

I spot the man with missing fingers and wave him over. A better person would find out his name, but I can’t bring myself to ask. See, if I learn his name, I’ll be tempted to look him up when I’m researching someday. What if he dies in some horrible manner? What if I learn that I could have rescued him from a ghastly fate and didn’t? It’s better not knowing.

Believe me.

Dirt spackling his face, he smiles at me. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Pace?”

Right. To him I’m Michael’s wife. Whatever.

I open my mouth to speak, but my words stick. I don’t know Eddie’s last name. How can I ask him to help me find someone when I don’t even know his last name?

At least try.

I take a breath and start over. “I need to locate a soldier. It’s a matter of utmost importance. You do understand?”

When I was back home, I made a strict rule for myself: only period films. Hopefully, picking up some of the phrases and way of speaking will pay off. They have to be good for something because they’ll never be my first choice for entertainment.

I must’ve done okay because the man gives me a solemn nod, encouraging me to continue.

“Now, the matter is sensitive, and I don’t have an ideal amount of information for you to work off.”

“I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

“Michael said you would.” Well, he didn’t, but I’m sure he would.

“Doctor Pace said that?” His voice carries a note of awe.

I skirt my eyes away from his. “There is an American soldier named Eddie who was working a machine gun today in the trenches. Unfortunately, that’s all the detail I am able to provide for you. But I need to speak with the man immediately.”

“Eddie? I believe Eddie Warren is at the front. They move in shifts, you see. He’s the only man with that name I can think of.”

“Do you believe you could locate him for me?”

“Well, sure, Mrs. Pace. I’d be proud to.”

I position myself outside the tent that’s functioning as a mess hall and wait. Of course I could have gone down to the trenches myself and looked for him, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t be seen as appropriate. Today they let me go to the front because they saw a nurse coming to assist a doctor. But wandering around the trenches alone? Near where I last saw Shades?

A shiver works its way up my spine.

It’s not long before I spot Eddie’s outline cutting toward me. He’s running. Seriously,  he’s lightning in man form.

“Gabby?” Stern lines cross his handsome face.

“Walk with me?”

“Of course.” He offers his arm, so I take his elbow. “Would you mind if we walk in the direction of the trenches?”

“Do you need to get back?”

“I’m assigned to night watch. I shouldn’t have left, but I know what you do is important and could impact everything. So I came.”

I give him a nod, letting him direct us toward the trenches again despite the way my stomach twists at the thought. “How much do you know about the shifting world?” I keep my voice low, so no one passing us will overhear.

“Everything. I think.” Then a smile. “Well, you know how much Lark likes to talk.”

“I read somewhere that the average woman says twenty thousand words a day.”

He whistles low. “Then my Lark says about eighty thousand.”

“Point taken.”

“What is it?” He stops walking and looks me full in the face.

“I’m assuming you know about Shades?”

“Creepy buggers who hate mankind and take pleasure in destroying our lives?”

As the Shifters describe them, yes. “That sounds about right from what I’ve heard.”

“From what you’ve heard? The way Lark tells it, you have the most to fear from them.”

“Well, fear or not, they’re here.”

“As in, right here?” He cups his hand over mine where it rests in the crook of his arm and then glances all around us. Squinting, like he might be able to spot one.

“Not
here
, here. But I saw a bunch of them in No Man’s Land earlier today. I have to believe that means something. Mind you, I have no clue what that means, but I felt like I should warn you they’re there.” Did I have a leading? Is that what it feels like? I wish I knew. “Or at least, they were there earlier.” Maybe this whole conversation is pointless. They’re probably gone. I’m wasting time. Following the wrong trail and risking Michael’s life in the process.

“What did Michael say about it?”

“Michael doesn’t know. He’s really sick.”

“Why don’t you bring him through the Portal?”

I drop Eddie’s arm, stopping in my tracks. “Wait. There’s a Portal?”

He turns back to face me. “Michael told me a while ago there’s one nearby.”

“Did he happen to tell you where?” I speak through my teeth. Keep calm. It’s not Eddie’s fault that I feel like wringing someone’s neck. Someone whose last name rhymes with Ace. How could Michael be so foolish? The stubborn mule let himself fall sick when he could be in Keleusma.

“No. They wouldn’t be much help to me. He only said something last week because he was debating using it. But that would have meant abandoning his mission. Which …” Eddie shrugs.

Michael would never do.
I finish his sentence in my head.

Well, I’m here now. And I can force him to leave. Thankfully the presence of a Portal eliminates the whole Erik option. “I need to—”

Gunfire near the trenches stills my words. Eddie takes off toward the sound. I should run away, run back to Michael. But my feet move of their own accord. I’m right on Eddie’s heels.

“Raid!” The call comes loud and clear as we get closer.

My mind stumbles over the word. Raid. Michael mentioned the other side had been sneaking over at night undetected and killing as many people as possible.

I crash into Eddie’s back.

“Are we secure?” He hollers to a man down the trench.

“We killed the three men who ambushed us. It doesn’t look like more followed.”

He swings back around, grabbing my elbow. Hard. He marches me a few feet away from the entrance of the trenches.

And he doesn’t let go. “The man who took my post so I could talk to you is dead. Just over there.” He points over his shoulder. Even in the dark of night, his face has gone pasty white. “That should have been me.”

I lean around him and see four, no, five bodies lying in the bottom of the trench. If we hadn’t been speaking, one of those men might be Eddie. My eyes widen, and he nods as if he’s able to read my mind. Saving Eddie has to be the mission. Still, I take no joy in the fact that another man died in his place.

This whole system of Shifters saving some people and not others is so messed up.

“I’m really sorry.” I’m not sure why I’m apologizing, but it feels right.

“Are there any Shades near?” Eddie whispers.

I peek around him again. Scan the trenches and No Man’s Land. “Not that I see.”