Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [49]
“Take it easy, Sarge. I think you had a blackout.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t have goddam blackouts. Where is this place? How’d I get here?”
“This is what did it,” said Shel, pointing at the converter. He reached for it, tried to take it. But the sergeant snatched it back.
“Tell me what’s happening, damn it.”
“The converter. In your hand. It packs a wallop. An electrical charge.”
“What?”
“Electricity. I think it shocked you. Better put it down.” He flipped it like a hot rock. “What’s your name, Sergeant?”
“Jay. Jay Taylor.”
“Okay, Jay. My name’s Shel. Everything’s under control.”
“So where the goddam hell are we?”
“Listen.” Shel picked up the converter, pretending to handle it with great care. “Let me fix this. Then we can go out and get in the car, and I’ll take you back to the station.”
“I still don’t—”
“Just hang on a second while I make sure this thing can’t do any more damage.” He matched its setting to his own unit. When he was satisfied, he held it out to the sergeant.
“No, thanks,” Taylor said.
“It’s okay. I turned it off.”
The guy was staring across the room at his computer. “What’s that?” he asked.
“My TV.”
“That’s not a TV.”
“Listen, you want to get back, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He opened the cover and held out the converter again. “Hold this while I get my car keys.”
He took it. Reluctantly. Shel pressed the black button, and immediately did the same with his own unit.
THEY were back on Broad Street. In the entry to the clothing store. The sergeant staggered, and Shel grabbed for the converter. But the policeman tried to hold on to it. “Malfunction, Jay!” Shel said. “Let go of it. Quick.”
He did. Shel grabbed it. They drew the attention of a deputy about sixty feet away. He came running. “What the hell, Jay?” he said. “You okay?”
“He’s not feeling well,” said Shel. “Jay, I think you had another blackout.” He turned to the deputy. “I’m glad to see you.”
The deputy tried to take hold of the sergeant, but he shook free. Backed against a wall and faced Shel. “Goddam it,” he said. “Who are you, anyway? What’s goin’ on?”
“I don’t know,” said Shel. “I was just trying to help.” And, to the deputy: “I think he needs medical help, Officer.”
“Stay clear,” growled Jay. “I don’t need any help.”
Shel backed away. “He’s had a hard day,” he told the deputy.
Jay was enraged. He charged. Grabbed Shel by his jacket. “You’re going to have a hard day, you little son of a bitch, if you don’t start answering questions.”
At that, the deputy also tried to get hold of Shel, who, being able to take a hint, pushed the button.
BACK in his town house again, Shel took a minute to sit down. The fact that Jay had come into possession of the converter suggested Dave was in jail rather than a hospital. That was good news. The bad news was that it would be easier to get him out of a hospital room than a cell.
Shel was getting better at manipulating the converter. He’d been able to lock in the precise location of the west side of the Pettis Bridge, and from that was able to calculate a decent estimate to get to the eastern side. If he could accomplish that, he’d be able to see precisely what did happen. And he needed to get there while the attack was still going on. Damn. The prospect of having to watch it all again did nothing for his state of mind.
First, he needed to shower and change. It had been a long day. Literally. (He allowed himself a smile at that.) And he hoped that Dave hadn’t been hurt.
He hurried through his shower. Haste made no difference, of course. He could take his time, but he couldn’t get past a sense of urgency. When he’d gotten into some fresh clothes, he did his calculations and reset the converter. There was a risk: His father claimed he could count on landing on a solid surface. (Shel knew the hard way that idea didn’t hold water.) Okay. He’d be arriving near the Alabama River. So he decided to take no chances and put his converter in a waterproof bag. He didn’t want to take a chance getting stuck in 1965.
Rescuing David would be easy,