The Price of Tomorrow: Chapter Three
Bonjour
A weekly time travel serial
Previously: Tour guide Cameron Douglas finds himself in an awkward conversation with tour guest Peggy Montgomery. When she asks him for help in figuring out what a strange metal sphere might be for, something strange happens.
???
Blinding light, fierce and relentless, shone through the cracks in her pinched closed eyelids and Peggy, twisting, pained, and nauseous, tried to force them open. Discombobulated, she inhaled, but instead of air, salt water filled her nose and mouth. Lungs, chest, body, everything compressed, and a muffled growl, like the echoes of thunder, rumbled. Suspended, she forced her eyes open before closing them against the salty sting. Her sneakers sunk into the sand, and when she pushed up, one foot slipped free, and she clutched fistfuls of nothing, reaching toward pale shards of light until she broke through the water, gasping into the day.
The pain in Peggy’s chest eased as she swallowed jagged chunks of air. What the hell had happened? Why was she in the water? And where was that tour guide, Cam?
‘Cam!’ she called. The sun glared against the grey morning. Bobbing in time with the ocean’s swell, Peggy scanned the shore, but with eyes stinging, she could only make out the short stretch of beach. Beyond that, the town and trees were just a blur of green and grey. Something about the scene sat uncomfortable. The outline of the buildings seemed all wrong, the squat casino seemed to have evaporated, and the little park bench they had sat on as they talked about the sphere from the museum was gone.
The little copper ball—where was it?
Peggy inhaled and pushed herself under with a kick. Bumping against rock, then her shoe, she scrambled in search of her lost treasure, desperately hoping to find it before the ebb and flow of the ocean concealed it beneath sand and grit forever. Her fingers brushed against a manufactured hardness, smooth and even, but before she could grasp it in her palms, something clinched her waist and jerked her from the water.
‘Let me go!’ Peggy kicked and squirmed against the restraint, frantic yet frustrated, as the grip on her didn’t budge. ‘I don’t need saving—I’ve just lost something. Parlez-vous Anglaise?’ The more she tried to break free, the tighter the grip, until, after being half dragged through the shallows, she was dumped onto the sand.
‘What the hell do you…’
Maybe they were fisherman after a rough trip out. Or farmers come into town. Or maybe, just maybe, they were on their way to a strange fancy dress party. Water seeped through her clothes and laced over her skin, and with a slip of breeze, a chill shuddered through Peggy as she looked up at two of the wildest looking men she had ever seen. One stood tall and broad, with a rough black beard and dark, bushy eyes. Skin browned from the sun, weathered by the wind, his face bore the same craggy lines and intonations as the rock and fields they had driven through. The other man was at least a head shorter. His straggly hair, as white as sea foam, hung loose past his shoulders, his head covered by a floppy brimmed black felt hat. The tall man scowled, while the old man watched her with a gap-toothed smile.
‘Bonjour,’ Peggy croaked out, her gaze darting between them. ‘I’ve lost something,’ she said, pointing to the water. ‘I’m going to get it.’ Peggy pushed herself up. Eyed the men. The tall one tilted his head. She took a step forward, then, with a quick dodge, skittered to the side and bolted into the water. But before the soft waves reached her calves, the bigger man grabbed at her and wrenched her back, grumbling something rough and illegible. When she lurched forward again, this time at a faster dash, he caught her waist, and when she pounded his arms with her fists and kicked at the air, he held her tight.
‘Let me go, you arse. Cam! Help! Anyone!’
He thumped her onto the sand again. This time, with the jolt, seawater burned as it rose in her throat. Peggy twisted and propped herself onto her elbows. Salty spasms shook her body, and she retched spit and water into the shallows. ‘Please,’ she managed between expulsions, before making a little circle with her hands. ‘A little ball. It’s in the water. I need it.’
The smaller of the men crouched next to her, and, talking and laughing with his friend, he slapped his palm hard between her shoulder blades. Through a watery haze, Peggy watched the big man wade out and dive beneath the ocean’s surface. Another convulsion gripped her, although this time, she only heaved spittle and air. She pressed her forehead to the gritty sand, then collapsed. What on earth had happened? Her entire body felt brittle and aching, like it had been ripped apart, then thrown back together again.
A heavy thunk echoed in her ear, and eyes still closed, she groped, felt the pitted and filigree surface, and pulled it into her chest.
‘Merci,’ she said. ‘Merci, so much.’ Darkness swam, then surged, but before it engulfed her, she heard her name being shouted, loud and frantic as it cut through the humming in her ears.
‘Cam?’ she mumbled as his face swam into view. ‘Cam, I don’t think it’s an astrolabe.’
***
‘Why can’t I call an ambulance? One, one, two. Nothing. There’s no service, no roaming, no random Wi-Fi networks. Are your phones working?’
The sky, sea, sand, forms of men, all of them swam from sharpness to haze, then back as Peggy processed the world. Cam, phone clenched in one hand, prodded at his screen. The wild men who had pulled her from the water only watched him with furrowed brows and turned lips. Peggy grappled at her back pocket for her own phone. Gone. Crap, she couldn’t afford another one, three-year-old piece of junk that it was. At least she still had the sphere. She wouldn’t lose her job.
In time, she’d buy a new phone.
Peggy drew the little ball tighter to her chest, so that the filigree indented her skin. A cool breeze angled off the ocean, and with wet clothes and a cool sunrise, her skin prickled. The little lights that had glowed last night had faded, although the ball felt warm, and her fingers tingled, like the pulsing of music through too loud speakers, or the vibrations from a car after the engine had been shut off. What had the little ball done? The dots had glowed. The metal had heated. Then, a flash as white as lightning had surrounded them, before it had all snapped off.
Peggy took a slow look over one shoulder as she sat. The indistinct form a La Rochelle still smudged the world beyond the sand, but it was somehow not La Rochelle. A few spires shot familiar points into the sky, but the outline of the city was different, and Tour de la Chaine…
Peggy’s stomach flipped. A building that was, but also wasn’t, the Chain Tower glowed iridescent in the morning sun. The form of the sandstone towers was the same as the shadowed structure she’d looked up at the night before, but now, the long-lost chain was suspended between them. Beneath it, in the harbour, the crosses of tall ships swayed, and white sails billowed.
Peggy traced a vine on the ball again and circled one of the buttons with her thumb.
‘Mademoiselles. Are you cold? Hurt?’
Peggy shook her head. Water still pooled in one ear, and she looked up into dark brown eyes and a furrowed brow. So lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t registered the silence. Cam and the wild men still stood looking down at her. Another man had joined the ensemble. A heavy blanket—no, a coat—fell onto her shoulders, and while it smelt like it hadn’t been washed in months, the sudden burst of warmth it brought was welcome. Squatted beside her, the man tilted his head to one side. Clean shaven and with his dark hair tied back, he dressed the same as the wild men, except he had a bright green sash tied at his waist. The fabric of his shirt was brighter, his pants fit better, and instead of being barefoot, he wore beautiful, knee high, black leather boots.
‘I’m okay.’ Peggy spoke slowly, as if testing the honesty of her words. While many things were wrong, she was not hurt.
‘Have you got service?’ Cam stepped closer to the new man, holding his phone aloft. ‘I haven’t got a bar. Nothing.’
‘How many men are with you? Is there trouble with your ship?’ The new man stood. ‘Do you have a message? Where is your company?’
Cam’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. His lips contorted through the shape of a few words, before he managed, ‘I have no idea what you just said.’
‘I am sorry. My English is not good. My name is Raoul Le Besque. These are my men, Jean-Louis and Pierre.’ He pointed first at the shorter man, then the tall, bushy one.
‘Cam. Cameron Douglas. And that’s Peggy.’
‘I thought only Chouans brought their wives into camp,’ the new man, Raoul, said with a laugh.
‘Oh, Peggy’s not my—’
Raoul leaned over, grabbed Peggy by the elbow, and jerked her up. ‘Get up. We must leave.’
A prickle traced her skin as she turned to follow Raoul’s look. The soft absorption of sand, the wash of waves, and the streaming sun had hidden the surveillance of two men further along the beach.
‘We’re not going anywhere until we’ve had Peggy checked over. Do you know how much paperwork I’ll have to fill in if insurance comes after me because I didn’t take her to a doctor?’
‘You would like to wait for the Republican soldiers, then?’ He pointed down the beach, where the two blue blurs were moving closer. ‘You think they will help you English?’
Republican soldiers. English landing. A message. It made no sense. A million thoughts catapulted around her brain. Terrorists. Kidnapped. Was it all some online stunt? Her thoughts collided as she failed to pull a shred of sense from them, and the swirling images of movies and TV made her nauseous. Just as she thought she would vomit again, a soft clear voice cut through the cacophony.
Be careful of them, Peggy. Her beloved Aunt Maggie’s last words. Them. She had always dismissed Maggie’s paranoia as one more eccentricity and her last words just more rambling at the end of an old age lived in fear. She had never thought to ask Maggie what she meant. If Them was someone with a name.
‘Cam, maybe service will improve if we walk. We can find a police station and call someone. If they were going to hurt us, they’d have done it already. Staying here without any service isn’t going to help.’
That he seemed to understand. He gave Raoul an awkward smile. ‘Sorry, it’s been a weird day. Let’s go.’
Raoul gave a curt nod and moved off. They had little choice but to follow.