Time Drifters

We all froze. My head started pounding and I realized I hadn’t taken a breath. I inhaled very slowly but I could feel my throat seize. The man withdrew his head, while insults and slurs were hurled at him by another male voice.

I started coughing, stifling it as much as I could. Marijka put one hand on my shoulder and another on my face. It didn’t make any sense to me in that moment, but I know I was struck by how soft her touch was.

She gasped as the flap on the back window raised and an arm and an elbow appeared. In a flash, one of the twins had made it inside and the other was about to join him. Marijka was motioning wildly.

“Rufus! Go back!” she urged.

“You are a damned fool and I can prove it,” bellowed the deeper, younger voice from outside. The cabin shook as something hit the front door. Rufus spun to the window where Barkley was almost over the windowsill.

With another jarring bang the door flew open. It whipped on its hinge and smacked my foot.

“Hoy!” exclaimed the door-kicker. He was staring at Rufus, who was standing stalk still in the middle of the room.

“Would have been more neighborly-like to knock first,” said Rufus, deadpan.

“Well, well, well,” said the older man in what sounded like Cockney British while pushing past his door-kicking accomplice. “Someone hiding out on me. I knew it was worth the second look around.”

“Nothin’ worth lookin’ at here,” Rufus shrugged. The gruff man shoved Rufus aside like a stalk of grass. He was short and bulbous, with a protruding stomach, a double chin and one of the roundest, reddest noses I’d ever seen. Unfortunately, it didn’t take him long to see us, too.

“Nothin’ indeed, sayeth the blind man,” the intruder rasped, pointing at us. “Lookie, lookie.”

Gwendolyn drew Capucine and me closer to her but it was pointless. There was no place to hide and the door was blocked by the other man, a young and brutish guy likely in his twenties. He was taller and had a thick neck that made his head look like it was part of his torso.

“Leave ‘em alone,” Rufus said, jumping forward. The younger man easily snagged Rufus by the collar. That’s when I jumped up.

“We haven’t got anything you want,” I declared. It was bad to discover that standing hadn’t given me that much advantage in height against either of them.

“Is that so?” said the stubby man leaning towards me, his foul stench belching from his breath. “Roger, I cannot tell if it is a girl or a boy who speaks,” he said. “But I will say, how lucky for us to find a genuine fortuneteller. You, knowing what it is we want, an’ all.”

He looked around at the bare walls, grimacing, his eyes landing back on the women. Gwendolyn stayed cowered with Capucine but Marijka stood, her hands behind her back.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, ladies,” he said, tipping the sloppy cloth hat he wore. “We ‘aven’t been formally introduced. This is royal Roger, and you can call me… King George.”

His mouth looked like he’d been eating mud. There were only three visible teeth in his grin and those were the color of dried corn.

Rufus was staring at me like he was trying to communicate something, but I wasn’t getting it. Anytime he shifted, Roger simply reasserted his grip.

“What do you want?” asked Marijka firmly.

“Ooh, careful mi’ lady,” he said slowly. “Best not speak of such things in front of the children.”

“Nothing here to sell,” said Roger, shifting uncomfortably, “We are wasting time.”

“He is right,” responded Marijka. “And smart.”

“Ha!” George scoffed. “Smart!” He laughed so hard it carried him into a seizing cough that only ended with him horking and spitting against the wall.

“You are quick with flattery, when none is warranted, I assure you,” he said, beginning to look around. “Travelers with no baggage. Have you ever ‘eard of such a thing, my smart friend?”

Roger frowned and released Rufus, who shook off the feel of his former captor. The hulking younger man backed up and his entire body blocked the doorframe. I’d seen men like this when we were in Manhattan, down at the piers beyond the fish market. In my time, they both could have been dockworkers. I had no idea what they did now, but I knew it wasn’t good.

“And here it is,” said George, pouncing upon the leather portfolio Marijka had left against the wall.

“That’s mine,” I yelled. “Leave it alone.” Roger made a move but it was Rufus that held me back. I knew it had valuable paper and the Post, including my letter. It felt like my ticket to return to my time and I couldn’t let them get their hands on it.

“A thousand pardons, Esquire,” George said, tipping its contents out onto the tiny desktop.

“No!” I cried. I saw the folio spill out with the ink jar thudding on the wood surface, and the quill gently slip out afterwards.

“What?” exclaimed George, fishing inside the emptied bag. “That cannot be the end of it! Where’s the… Hey!”

I followed his glance in time to see Marijka handing something to Rufus. He gave a shrill, quick whistle and sprang to the windowsill. With two hands on the frame, Rufus pushed the flap outward with his feet and escaped.

“Get ‘im!” ordered George, lurching for the door, shoving the dumbfounded Roger outside. I was going to follow but Marijka pulled me back, her forefinger pressed to her lips to plead for secrecy.

I heard the scuffle outside and it sounded like Rufus had narrowly avoided capture. Then curses and warnings between Rufus and Roger that carried on around the outside walls of the cabin. Around and around. Rufus was evidently giving Roger a run for it, literally, until George stepped outside and helped to snare him. They searched his pockets and when they couldn’t find anything, George slapped Rufus hard across the face.

Marijka and I both gasped, seeing Rufus being shoved back inside the cabin. Rufus went to fight back and Roger picked him up whole and tossed him against the wall. He crumpled to the floor moaning. George slammed the door shut. His eyes were bulging out and he looked like he’d gone rabid.

“Enough!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “I am not here for games.”

Marijka was standing in the middle of the room but she was visibly shaking.

“What was it that you gave him?” George said threatening Marijka with a stubby point of his finger. She just shook her head, backing up with each poke.

“I… told him to escape,” she stuttered, “And to get help.”

“Liar!” he hissed, baring his filthy teeth and seething.

“We have nothing, you can plainly see that, please,” Marijka pleaded. Her voice was breaking.

“I want satisfaction, and I will have it,” George said, grabbing Marjika’s neck and a fistful of her skirt. She yelped. This was very bad. I ran at George and started pounding on his ribs, as high up as I could reach.

“Stop it! Stop it!” I screamed.

The blow came to my forehead, something dull and thick and hard. The next thing I knew, my butt hit the floor. My ears were ringing.

Gwendolyn cried out in the corner and Capucine shrieked, immediately breaking out into a baleful, wailing cry. Rufus was still moaning on the ground. I had to get up but I couldn’t. “Police! Call the Police!” I remembered thinking. But there wasn’t a phone or even likely any police around to call.

“Them, over there,” came George’s voice, through the fog in my head. “Roger! Haul them up and search ‘em. Them is what’s got it, I swear to it.”

“This is bad and wrong,” Roger said.

“Fool. Rocks in yer head going soft? Do as I say!”

Gwendolyn started coughing, and then it became nearly uncontrollable. Capucine wailed louder. I looked over and Gwendolyn was holding out her hand. Blood was dripping from her mouth and had covered her palm. Marijka shrieked.

“George,” Roger said. “Somethin’ ain’t right.”

“It started. Look,” Marijka said, horrified.

Roger withdrew as Gwendolyn launched into another fit of coughing. She lurched forward, her bloodied hand grasping at George’s arm.

“Aye!” George exclaimed, releasing his grip on Marijka.

“Please sir,” Marijka said, “You must help us, or it might claim us all.”

“What?” George said, staring at the red goo on his hand and sleeve.

“It is truly horrid, this plague disease… a curse that has taken our town all at once,” Marijka continued. “Our mother is dead from it. Our father and these neighbor’s children… we have all been sent away, completely helpless.”

George began fitfully wiping his hand on his sleeve, backing up. Roger was already by the door.

Capucine kept on crying loudly and now Rufus began coughing as well. I was freaked out, wondering why no one had told me, until I saw Gwendolyn urging me to catch on. So, I started coughing, too.

“You have horses and you can take us south, to the British lines,” Marijka continued, driving the men closer and closer to the exit. “You can fulfill the final wishes of our beloved parents, that this sentence of death deliver a swift and devastating blow to those who would oppress us.” Roger was already out the door and Marijka lunged at George’s arm, dropping to her knees, even as she began coughing as well, her mouth open and spit flying from her.

“Horrid spawn of Belial,” George cursed, grabbing the portfolio from the desk as he went, desperately shaking Marijka off of his foot. “Get away with you, demon child.” He and Roger were untying their horses as fast as they could.

“You cannot, in charity, abandon us,” Marijka wailed, now crumpled in the entrance and distraught. “Have pity on our souls.”

“Any decent folks would mark their door in warning,” George shouted. “Blasphemers! I will spare my pity and my own life. Your Maker can arrange the rest.”

We kept on coughing until Marijka spoke.

“They’re gone,” she said, quietly. I stopped and moved to the door, with Barkley close behind.

“And I don’t think they’ll be coming back,” Marijka added.

“Good,” said Rufus, hanging off of the edge of the roof and scrambling to the ground. “Then I suppose they won’t come looking for this,” he said, extracting Marijka’s letter from his pocket, “Or this!” He slid one of the horse’s leather saddlebags from his shoulder and proudly flung it on the ground.

It was a brief triumph. From inside, I could hear Capucine begin to cry again and Gwendolyn trying to calm her.

“Miss,” Capucine sobbed as she wobbled into view. “Blood.”

“It’s alright,” Barkley said, sweeping in to brace Capucine gently, while Marijka ran past.

“However did you…?” Marijka stopped and gasped when she saw the blood covering Gwendolyn’s arm. “Oh, Lord.”

“It should be fine,” Gwendolyn said almost dreamily. “I think I have merely exhausted myself, more than anything.”

“But the blood! Gwen!” Marijka exclaimed, dropping to her knees.

“I used the bone pin from Capucine’s hair,” Gwendolyn explained, passing it to Marijka. “I tried getting it from my hand but I couldn’t get enough. I had to stab the arm and now it does not seem to want to stop.” She was still slumped back against the wall and appeared to be on the verge of sleep.

“Go get water,” Marijka said.

“Straight off, ma’am,” Rufus answered. Both twins jumped into action, grabbing the tin pot from the floor.

“Keep the pressure on the spot,” Marijka instructed Gwendolyn. “Liam, go through the saddlebag and figure out if there’s something inside that’ll be helpful. And Capucine, I need you to hold Gwendolyn’s hand for comfort while I tear up some bandages.” Capucine obeyed, and Marijka sat on the ground and began to rip a whole in the cream colored cotton of her underskirt.

I stared at Gwendolyn, wondering if she was going to survive. With the blood and the fright of the men coming, I found myself unable to move. It was too much. It didn’t seem like any of this should be happening, and not with these nightmare kind of feelings of real danger. I felt tears leaving my eyes and wetting my face, even though I wasn’t crying.

“Well go on then,” Marijka said, giving me no more than a glance in the midst of ripping a long strip of fabric. “She needs you. We all do.”

I shuffled out to the saddlebag and stared at it. I dropped to my knees and I picked at the leather straps and buckles of the bag. But tears kept getting in the way of what I could see. I might have been needed, but in that moment, I think I would have given anything if I could have just gone home.