Time Drifters

Not in a million years would I have ever called it dinner. But I was told that it was edible, and I was too hungry to refuse it.

I thought that maybe I’d coughed too much, or been knocked around one too many times, or that I had some kind of problem caused by Drifting. Marijka said it was called being light-headed, on top of being hungry and tired.

Once my original assignment of gathering kindling and extra stones was finished, I felt pretty deficient, not having much skill to contribute to the meal. It seemed everyone brought something, or else they knew how to work with what few things we had and what any forest could provide, no matter what century it was. I stared a lot, and tried to stay out of the way. Marijka insisted that eating something was precisely what I could do to be helpful to her. Sounded like something Mom or my Aunts would say to get me out of the kitchen when they were busy. But, honestly… once I could see what was being produced, I had some serious reservations about being helpful in this way.

Caelen had found mushrooms because he knew the kind near Tarrytown that weren’t poisonous. Walker had delivered an impressive catch of four fish and one was pretty big. Plus he’d brought reeds and lily pads to help in cooking. And the twins, unfortunately, were very proud of having felled two squirrels with makeshift slingshots.

“It was my shot that felled the pair,” Rufus said.

“’Cause you stole my sling both times,” Barkley responded, receiving a shove in return for telling. “Only a few more hours and I’m sure we could’ve snagged a rabbit.”

It’s not that I didn’t admire their skills—truthfully, I was kind of jealous. I’d just never, ever looked at the furry little guys as being an option on a barbeque grill.

It was near dark by the time we were all back together. Walker was the first to appear. In addition to the fish, he had secured a fine horse along the way. The girls didn’t ask where he got it and he didn’t seem the type to boast.

Rufus’ plunder from the intruders had proved, “a blessing,” as Marijka called it. There was a sharp and sturdy knife that was helpful for whittling skewers from birch branches and for skinning and filleting the fish and the… meat. Other items included a block of salt, some chewing tobacco and a flint stone for making a spark to light the fire. The day had been warm enough, but the evening was getting chilly and I was thankful to know there would be some warmth in addition to the food.

Caelen and Thomas had returned with not a scratch on them and they were pretty shame faced, listening to the story about the intruders. Gwendolyn seemed to enjoy pointing out to Thomas that the real danger had been handled by the women, and the brave young men who had jumped into the effort. That kept him subdued and quiet for a while.

Caelen was particularly attentive to Gwendolyn.

“He seems to like her,” I said to Marijka.

“It’s a dangerous thing, a cut like that,” she responded, gingerly pulling one of the wrapped fish from the cooking stones at the edge of the fire. “They come from a similar time period at the turn of the century, and a couple of decades before antibiotics were discovered. So they have reason to be worried. I am, for her sake. I’m from the 1950s and you…” she raised her eyebrows in wonderment but smiled at me just the same.

“We can’t bring our medicines back to help them,” she continued. “And you can’t let them know that there’s an answer coming.”

“Doesn’t seem right,” I said. “I mean, we know…”

“It won’t be any use to them,” she explained quietly. “And they have their own ways. They work or they don’t. Hearing about our ways would only confuse and frustrate them.”

“Maybe they could work to find the answers faster,” I suggested. “Save more people.”

She shook her head and closed her eyes.

“You can’t…” she started, cutting herself off. “There’s a lot to being a Drifter. The best thing you can do is focus on what we’re doing here, in this moment. Try to go along with it and some things will make more sense… in time, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

“Let me guess,” said Thomas, stepping between the two of us, “ Trinder has questions and you just can’t help but yield to temptation.” He poked into the steaming fish and then snatched a piece from the edge, popping it into his mouth and licking his fingers.

“That word is never far from your lips, is it, Thomas?” Marijka said, swatting his hand as it went to return for more. He grabbed her wrist and they faced off, uncomfortably close.

“You’re just buttering him up,” he said, so quietly that I could barely hear him. “Hoping he’ll keep your secrets.”

“Nothing of the kind,” she said looking at her wrist until he released it. “He’s brand new and I would, and do, have sympathy for everyone who’s faced with that problem. Now, let go!”

There was something going on between them. I sensed different things coming from each of them, like they were trying to play their own songs in a kind of contest to see whose was the loudest.

“I should think a king, or queen, has not so much royal assistance getting to dinner,” said Gwendolyn appearing with Caelen guiding her and the twins prepping a place for her to sit. “And what is Liam enjoying this evening?”

I showed her the leaf with bits of mushrooms and fish that Marijka had given to me. Gwendolyn said that my dinner was quite similar to some French dish that her family chef prepared for visiting statesmen. I couldn’t understand the name, but as she went on describing the other ingredients and how they added to the dish, I found myself feasting in my imagination.

“I think this tastes better just by listening to you,” I said.

“A beggar’s buffet,” Barkley said. “That’s what we call it.”

“I won’t call you a beggar for getting the salt block,” Marijka said. “That was a very beneficial acquisition. Certainly helped with our fixings.”

“Never mind it has horse slobber on it,” said Rufus.

“Whad?” I said, my mouth full in mid-chew.

“The salt was probably for the animals, that’s all he means,” Barkley said, dismissing his brother’s remarks. “But it does help, I’ll say.”

“You ever had horsemeat?” Rufus asked. I swallowed what I reminded myself was fish and shook my head. I glanced up at the enormous animal that Walker had tied to the tree about twenty feet away from us. Very impressive. It seemed to be content with the shoots of grass still growing through the colorful fallen leaves at the edge of the small clearing, and he was happily unaware of our discussion.

“I am to be married soon,” Caelen announced, proudly. In his light Scottish accent it sounded more like “marrit.” A round of congratulations came from everyone.

“Mazel Tov,” I said. All eyes swung around to me, along with a few hung eyebrows. “That’s what my friend Harris’ family says. When there’s… big news.” There were polite nods and general acceptance. “It means, ‘good destiny,’” I added.

“Thank you,” Caelen nodded. “That is a particularly kind and apt sentiment.”

“And who is the lucky lady?” Marijka asked.

“Yes, please,” Gwendolyn said. “Tell us about her.”

“Yes, she is a lady, to me,” Caelen said. “The daughter of a cooper, in Wilmington. He does verra well for himself.”

Capucine saw me looking confused and she leaned in to whisper in my ear.

“Her father makes barrels in wood,” she said. “This is the job of a cooper.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Is this true? You do not know how a cooper is occupied?’ she asked, taking another bite of the squirrel meat she had in her palm.

“No,” I said. “I mean, ‘Yes,’ it’s true that I didn’t know.”

“Hmm,” she nodded, chomping thoughtfully. It seemed that me not knowing something was harder for her to digest than the tough meat she was struggling to chew. And better her than me.

We heard about other plans for Caelen’s wedding. It was coming up in the spring of 1903. He had recently moved down to Wilmington and so he had to make the long trip back up to Tarrytown just for this Drift. Gwendolyn was coming from 1909 and had also traveled from her family’s place in Virginia to her Drift station. I thought about my bike, back in Tarrytown. That made me wonder if I was going to see it again. An acorn popped from a nearby tree and bounced off of the roof of the shed. I looked up at the night sky and it appeared different; so clear. The stars all looked like tiny diamonds, so crisp and sharp.

I looked around the circle and saw everyone’s face, engaged and visiting. They all shared this knowledge about Drifting. It was normal to them, or at least each of them had made a place for it in their life. I felt like I was just visiting them, like I was doing a paper for school and I’d come to see what they did so I could report on it. But I couldn’t. Even having the knowledge of it, I was robbed from being able to tell a soul about this, apart from Mr. Danby and Miss Prankle. At least I had them.

When the twins got up to grab more to eat, Walker came to sit next to me.

“I’m sorry I haven’t said much to you,” I apologized, looking for a way to start a conversation with Walker. I knew he could speak English, but I hadn’t heard enough to know if he was really fluent. The twins said that he came from a Drift station out west. Wyoming, was it? I knew he was the eldest here, which likely meant he was 18 or close to it.

“You are a considerate man, Wheel-Maker,” he said.

“You said that before,” I said, suddenly getting an idea. “Is that what I do? When I see you again?”

“Your name,” he said.

“My native name?” I asked very quietly, excited by the possibility of having a nickname.

Walker laughed and I realized it was unlikely I’d been inducted into his tribe in another Drift. It was the first time that I saw a smile brighten that flat face.

“Your ancestors called you Wheel-Maker,” he said, still smiling. “Trinder. That is one who makes Wheels. And so you are a Wheel-Maker, as well. I think it has meaning in other ways… ways that you do not yet remember.”

I nodded even though I didn’t understand.

“Your wheel has many spokes,” he continued. “When you Drift, some times our wheels turn together.”

“Wow, okay!” I said. “So we see each other again.”

“I only know what I have witnessed,” Walker responded, looking into the fire.

This last comment was a bit mysterious. I was trying to get my mind around this odd kind of riddle. Before I could ask him more, however, Thomas launched into a discussion about what he and Caelen had discovered in town and what the plan was going to be for tomorrow.

I saw one more piece of fish and went for it. Horse slobber or not, the taste was bearable enough and my stomach was still making noises that it wanted more.

Caelen and Thomas had found the location in town where Major Andre was supposedly apprehended. They’d walked the trail backward towards the north and found that there was a fork that had a smaller trail veering off to the east.

I didn’t want to like Thomas but I had to admit he was smart. It was cool to hear him outline all of the possibilities for how history could go wrong. He didn’t say it like that but basically it was the key to why we were here. It wasn’t enough to know what events happened. Something had Drifted off course and we had to imagine what that was and then try to reconnect the pieces.

I had remembered the names of the men, or at least the last name of one of them—Williams—and the full names of the Dutch guy, Isaac Van Wart and John Paulding. Since our grade school was named after Paulding and the park was directly across the street, I was feeling dumb about not having the entire thing down pat.

I also said that one of them—I thought it was Paulding—was wearing a Hessian jacket. That was why Major Andre thought he was back in British territory since the Hessians were German soldiers fighting for the red coats. I told them that Paulding only had the coat because he’d escaped from a British prison, and he’d borrowed it from a friend to make his getaway through the British-held area of New York City.

For a moment, Thomas even seemed pleased to hear all of this. He said we’d divide into two groups the next morning. The forest party would go to the fork in the forest and make sure that the Major was alone and that he took the correct trail towards town. The town party would make sure that the three men were where they needed to be, and that their suspicions were properly raised so they’d be sure to detain and question the Major when he arrived. And all of this had to happen before 9am.

The disagreements began to arise when Thomas laid out his assignments for who should go where. He wanted to take Caelen and me and the twins and leave Walker in the forest with the three girls. Gwendolyn was the loudest about her objections. But when she asked Walker, being the eldest in the group, to moderate, he had other things troubling him.

“We are asked by Spirit to snare one man,” Walker said, speaking up when Thomas had finished, “that others may succeed in a campaign for their beliefs.”

“Come on, Walker,” Thomas said, prodding. “We’re all on the side of history aren’t we?”

“We that make history every day,” Walker responded. “I have survived the Battle of the Little Bighorn. Custer fell, yet his defeat was to the detriment of my own Peoples. I am here to help with history, true. It does not mean that this history is only yours. In my tribe and in the one you fight for, I am still a free man. Being free, I can express my opinions.”

“Indeed! Well said,” Gwendolyn added crisply, stomping her foot in approval and then cringing as she braced her elbow.

“Come to think of it,” Thomas chimed in, “That’s a very interesting accent you’ve got.”

“Interesting is a word for yours as well, yet we all try not to judge,” she responded. “And was the topic of conversation so disturbing that you needed to change it?”

“I haven’t Drifted with you much,” Thomas said, reflecting. “Definitely not for a long time.”

“Mine has been a charmed life, squire,” she responded, trying for a smile. Her British accent sounded just a bit more full and she didn’t seem to be masking it for Thomas’ sake.

“If you go into town, how do we know when it comes time that you won’t kick off for the other side?” Thomas inquired. “You weren’t born in America and you still speak of monarchs.”

“Indeed, and careful not to mention which one for the sake of our companions… but still you think me a double agent for the Tories?” Gwendolyn asked, with an incredulous look. “That I might sacrifice myself, and all of Time, for the honour of the Major? And why now, after so long?”

“You’ve given it some thought?” he asked.

“On the contrary,” she barked back, “Some of us do not need so long to make up our own minds.”

“Just wondering why you’re so intent on going to town,” Thomas noted.

“Thomas, really,” Marijka scolded.

“You’ve come back… we’ve all come back, to attend to a spy,” Gwendolyn countered, “and now you’re beginning to see them everywhere. I suppose it’s a compliment to think that I, alone, could turn the Collective.”

“Maybe you’ve been good for such a long time that no one expects you of doing one bad thing,” Thomas said, drilling his point.

“Is this a tactic with which you are frightfully familiar?” Gwendolyn asked.

“Enough!” Walker said. “If Gwendolyn is to be heard, it will be in the forest.”

“If an officer falls in the forest, can the British hear it?” Rufus said quickly. I liked the joke and appreciated the break in tension. Barkley liked it too, but Walker’s eyes squelched further interruption.

“Hearing Gwendolyn, the officer might believe himself to be safely back in the land held by the British,” Walker said. “Caelen and young Liam know the history to be about three men. The Major thinks they are on his side because of the uniform. Gwendolyn Whitehall, do you wish to be where you could do the most good?”

“Yes, of course I do, Walker, Sr., “ she said.

“Then that is where you know you must be,” he said.

“I will join the town party,” Marijka said, straightening up as she spoke. “We need a woman present where there are so many young men.”

Thomas chortled.

“It’s true,” Marijka snapped. “They aren’t as likely to see our group as a threat.”

“She makes an excellent point,” Caelen agreed. “In fact, I think that I should be with the forest party. If there are any more brigands, or if the Major has anyone with him, unexpectedly, then Walker and I can handle them.”

Caelen nodded to Gwendolyn and she gave him a slight smile in return.

“Fine,” said Thomas, throwing up his hands. “We could make a final decision in the morning. But we might as well get a bit of sleep, while we can.”

The schedule of guards was set up as the rest of us were ushered into the cabin. I helped Marijka roll the old blanket into a long bolt and learned that it was to serve as a pillow for as many of us as could share it.

Without other coverings, our jackets were the only things to keep us warm. I lay my head down to test it out. It smelled of dust and mildew and I didn’t want my face next to it. I thought about Dad, and how he took naps lying on the couch, flat on his back. I supposed that now was a good time to try this new sleep position.

I was staring up at the boards of the roof when Capucine eagerly claimed the spot next to me. She was repeating the same thing under her breath, over and over.

“Walker, Sr. Wyoming. Spring, 1878.”

“What?” I asked. She shook her head and kept mouthing the phrase again and again to herself.

“Marijka told me,” she said, settling down and curling up as though this was as normal as could be. I wondered if she was used to sleeping with her other siblings where she came from. I wanted to ask, but the situation already felt odd and asking things just seemed awkward.

“Good night, Liam,” she said, suddenly opening her eyes and staring.

“Good night, Capucine,” I said. “Sleep tight.”

The twins were being tossed back inside after their repeated requests to be included in the schedule of the sentries were flatly denied by Caelen and Thomas. Images of the day were swirling in my head.

“Liam? Do you sleep… tight?” Capucine asked.

“No,” I said, smiling. I wasn’t used to having a little sister, of course, but it kind of felt like she was—or how I imagined that would be—even though I knew she was slightly older than me.

“Do you think we are cursed?” Capucine whispered. I looked at her and realized she wasn’t trying to joke around.

“’Cursed?’ What do you mean?” I asked.

“Those men today. The fat one, he said a word… ‘bas-femor’”

“’Blasphemers?’ As in blasphemy?”

Capucine nodded and then her eyes darted around as though she were afraid that the mention of it would attract unholy attention.

“This is the word that our Monsignor says when he talks about what is wrong with me,” she whispered so quietly I could barely hear her. “Do you think they knew it as well?”

“Those men were dumb… ignorant,” I said. “They only thought we were sick, like we had a plague.”

“Maybe it is wrong, though,” she continued very insistently. “Like a punishment from God. To be sent backwards where we could die.”

“I don’t think….”

“He says it is bad,” she continued, in a steady stream of thought. “And he casts me out as the Sisters take me to the stones. When I come back, he says that I have been dancing with the Devil. He bleeds me.”

“What? Who is this Monsignor?” I asked, horrified at what I was hearing.

“He was asked by God to look after all of the orphans at the home,” she said. “So I think he knows some truths I must accept.”

“Well, I don’t think he is telling the truth about a lot of things,” I said. “And you said he bleeds you?”

“Yes,” she said, physically curling up at the thought. “To let out the Devil who has tainted me when we dance.”

“Marijka!” I said, sitting up to call to her.

“Shh,” Capucine said. “You cannot tell anyone, please. Monsignor will know.”

“Go to sleep, you two,” Marijka responded.

“But it’s…”

“Sleep, Liam. While you can,” she said, sounding drowsy.

One of the twins flinched on the other side of Capucine, snorting briefly and then settling again. I was amazed how fast he’d dropped off. Gwendolyn had resumed the same spot she had been in during the attack, choosing to forego the smelly pillow we were sharing, still holding her arm carefully.

“I don’t think this is a curse, Capucine,” I whispered. “Not at all. I’m sorry about the mean man that is there where you live. I think he’s very wrong, and I hope that God is watching because I think that Monsignor is the one who should be punished.”

Capucine scrunched up her face so that her mouth became almost a dot below her nose. But her eyes were big and sad and searching.

“I promise to tell you if I think of something that can help,” I said. “But if you get old enough that you can run away, I think that is what I would do.”

Capucine nodded and then sighed loudly. She closed her eyes tightly and began to mouth something. From the way she was clutching her crystal through her dress and the movement of her fingers crossing herself as she muttered, I knew she was back to prayer.

I resumed my visual search of the darkness above. I was silently running through the bedtime prayer Mom had taught me. My eyes shot back open when I got to the line, And if I die before I wake.

Capucine had talked about dying during the Drift. It was possible. I started to regret not leaving any hidden message for my parents. Thomas’ plan had covered possibilities for what could go wrong and there were plenty of us to face the problems that might come up. But what if there was something we hadn’t counted on… something deadly? There were no hospitals and no medicine. Gwendolyn had a large gash in her arm. Even though Marijka had cleansed it with boiled water and Caelen had heated the knife in the fire and seared the wound to try and close it, she could still have trouble during the night.

My mind raced. I wanted to speak to Thomas but he’d probably only get mad at me. Maybe worse, since everyone else was sleeping. I shivered from the dampness settling in around us and the musty smell of earth and leaves and old wood.

Capucine had stopped praying and was lying utterly still. I heard the deep breathing of others in the cabin, the snap of the dying fire outside and the pop of another acorn hitting the roof and bouncing to the forest floor. There were crickets, and an owl, and then the droning buzz of a mosquito stalking us. I switched to another prayer… the words got jumbled as I waited for the mosquito to get close enough to swat him. The sound receded and I finally couldn’t fight sleep any longer.