Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [82]
“I’m a researcher,” Shel said. “Conducting an experiment. But I got lost.”
“Is there somebody else?”
“Another man?”
“Yes. What did you think I meant?”
“I don’t know,” said Shel. “I came alone.”
Jake snarled. “You’re a liar. There was another one, Dad. I’m telling you—”
“If there was, where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sir,” said Shel, “I dropped that over there.” He nodded at the converter. “I’d like to get it back, if it’s okay.”
“What is it?”
“It, um, measures light. We’re trying to make better lamps.”
Dad walked over and picked it up. He looked at it and put it in his pocket. “You know what I think?” he said. “I think you’re a spy for the goddam redcoats. Why don’t you just come with me?”
“Okay. But could I have my inclinator?”
“Is that what you call it?”
“Yes.”
“Why? What’s it do again? Measures light?”
“It measures the inclination of the light.”
Dad laughed. “Whatever that means.” He checked to be sure Shel had no weapons, and found the gooseberry. “What’s this?”
“It’s part of the light-testing system.”
Dad laughed again and appropriated that, too.
Jake grabbed his father’s shoulder. “Dad, I’m telling you, there were two of them. One just came and went. He’s some kind of devil.”
“And he went where?”
“I don’t know. Just faded out when the dogs got after him.”
“Shut up, Jake. You’re imagining things. You ever hear of a devil that’s scared of dogs?”
Jake threw up his hands. “I don’t care. They—”
“Shut up.” He pointed toward a clutch of trees about a hundred yards off. Away from the river. “You can go, mister. Property line’s a quarter mile that way. It’s marked. If I see you out here again, I’m going to put a ball in you. You understand that?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Good-bye.”
“Can I have my property back?”
Dad took out the converter and the gooseberry. Started fingering them.
Please don’t turn anything on.
He tossed them in Shel’s direction, but Shel let them hit the ground. Make no sudden moves when a gun is pointed at you. After a minute, Shel picked them up. He thought about using the converter, but he wasn’t sure what would happen if the weapon fired right after he pushed the button. Best to just walk away.
He put the gooseberry in a pocket and kept the converter in his hand. The shotgun was still aimed at his feet. The hounds started toward him, but Dad stopped them with a word.
Shel turned his back and started walking. Behind him, father and son were arguing. Jake was still trying to convince his father that Shel was not human.
WHEN he reached the property line, he looked back and saw that they were gone. As were the dogs. Good. Time to go home.
Poor Dave. He’d looked scared to death when he’d seen the shotgun.
He pushed the button and the daylight started to fade. Then it came back.
He tried again. This time nothing at all happened.
CHAPTER 22
Older men declare war. But it is youth that must fight and die. And it is youth who must inherit the tribulation, the sorrow, and the triumphs that are the aftermath of war.
—HERBERT HOOVER, JUNE 27, 1944
DAVE had had enough surprises. From now on, when he was traveling, he’d keep a finger on the button and be prepared to move out at a moment’s notice.
He was bleeding, and he was going to need shots. His inclination was to go right back after Shel. But there was no reason he couldn’t go for repairs first.
Twenty minutes later, he limped into an emergency room. They gave him tetanus and antibiotics and whatever else he needed, and stitched him. On the way back to the town house, he bought a pair of binoculars.
He reset the converter to take him back to the farm five seconds after he’d left it. And to position him a hundred yards west of the confrontation.
A gun might have been a good idea, too, in case he had to deal with the animals again. But he didn’t want to shoot the dogs, and in fact had handled a firearm only once, at a range. And that had been at least ten years ago.
HE made the transit lying down, so he emerged flat on the ground. Shel still had his hands up. The dogs seemed to be under control,