49. Chapter 49
Chapter 49
E mily screamed—in her mind. In reality, the sound froze in her throat, and nothing came through the ominous silence that followed. Her body locked up.
From a shadowed nook, a man emerged, a dark form in a long cloak, the pistol still in his hand. He stepped over Fabienne, nudged her with his heavy-booted foot, and ran off in the opposite direction, never noticing Emily.
That released an invisible hold on her. Emily ran forward, nearly tripping when her legs couldn’t catch up with her determination. She slid into the mud next to Fabienne. Her eyes were open—dark blue, unblinking, unmoving. A trickle of blood led from the burned hole in her temple.
Emily turned away and gagged. She finally let that scream out, raspy and angry, from the bottom of her lungs. I failed. Sobbing, she leaned her head on Fabienne’s warm, lifeless body.
She’d been so close. If she’d only known that man had been there…
A surge of adrenaline cleared a path through her muddled thoughts. She knew now . Which meant she could still go back, try again.
Her cold, clammy hand closed around her watch. She was afraid to leave this time, to make any kind of travel. Fabienne was dead. Did this mean she, too, didn’t exist anymore? Maybe things would reset with the next travel—and Emily would get stuck in whatever void unlucky time travelers got stuck in, forever floating…
Despair closed up her throat. What to do? How to react? How long did she even have? And what did it matter, anyway, when she’d messed up already? There was no way out.
Or, there was one.
Will told her how to create the bubble, her one and only shot to change something—anything. She had to stop time by holding the side button on the watch and, while doing it, turn the hands back for however long she wanted the bubble to last. Emily hadn’t thought about which moment she’d go back to when she’d save Mama; that came after the mission.
Fabienne’s lifeless eyes continued to stare into a sky they’d never see again. Emily sniffled and wiped the tears with her sleeve, leaving a track of mud on her face. Making a bubble would destroy the watch. She had one chance to save her family.
Fabienne was family, too.
She opened the watch. Her finger initially slipped on the side button, but she stabilized it with her other hand and pressed hard. Feeling her heartbeat was easy; her heart was pumping like a train. Getting into the rhythm— thump, thump, thump —was harder with the sobbing. Emily yelled to let out her energy, gritted her teeth, and focused on the freeze. Air rushed through her ears; it was working!
Now or never.
Shakingly, she moved the minute hand back. A few minutes would give her a head start to find Fabienne and warn her. Her finger paused on the crown, and tears rushed out again. She could hear Mama’s laugh, feel her hug, see her sparkling eyes.
I’m sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry.
She pushed the crown down.
In a flash, she was back at the steps of Petersen House. She put on her shoes and jacket and headed in the same direction. Which alley was Fabienne in? Picking up the pace in rhythm with her fast-beating heart, Emily ran and turned and searched, until she located the right one. The alleyway appeared empty, save for the man hiding in the shadows. She tiptoed nearer, clinging to the wall. He was in the nook, flattened against the wall like a terrible shadow, gun at the ready.
Fabienne rounded the corner. Emily waited with a bated breath and, when the man stirred, jumped him with all her might. She tackled him to the ground and, before he’d get the chance to come back from his surprise, kneed him in the groin, then kicked his gun away.
She looked up. Fabienne stood in the middle of the alley—alive, and stunned, watching Emily as if she’d dropped from the sky.
“I did it,” Emily whispered. “You’re alive! I saved you!”
Something punched her in the stomach, and she closed her eyes from nausea. The ground under her changed—no longer cold, wet—and when she opened her eyes, she was at the Petersen House. Again.
No. No . Full of rage, Emily broke into a run, following the same old path. Past the people. Alleyway. Man—tackle him—Fabienne is there, alive— punch .
Again. Approach from the other side. Punch.
It didn’t matter what she did. She was trapped in this bubble—an endless loop she’d created herself. She could save Fabienne, but she couldn’t make it stick.
Her watch was done for. Fried. It had heated up, emitted a whiff of smoke, and did absolutely nothing whether Emily set it backward or forward. Just like Will had said, creating the bubble destroyed it.
Emily wished he’d also known about the loop. Maybe it was all logical, in the end. Changes like this weren’t supposed to happen. The Great Time Travel Force found a way to fix this bug.
After half a dozen tries, Emily was too tired to do it again. She lay down on the ground in the courtyard, not caring much for the dirt; it would get cleaned off in a few minutes. Above her was the still pale, lightly hazy morning sky. With no way out, was that going to be the last one she ever saw? It didn’t seem pretty or poetic enough for an ending. It didn’t seem heroic.
She hated logic. And she hated herself for messing it up on the first try. I guess failures don’t get pretty sunrises.
If only she’d been more like Will. Not rush into this. Not destroy her watch—possibly her only chance of getting out.
Another punch came. She was ready, curled into a ball. The pain still came, but it cleared her mind. Once it was over, Emily looked at her watch. Yes, this one was done for… but there was another watch.
Exactly the same one.
She jumped up and grabbed the almonite bag and her jacket, then dragged on her shoes.
A girl was only willing to take so much punching. If she failed, so be it—but she’d give it one last try.
And this time, she’d punch right back.
Fabienne was leaning on the wall, coming back from her time trip. The man in the nook stirred—but Emily was still too far away, at the corner. She’d wasted too much time in this loop. He lifted the gun—she put a hand over her heart— freeze, freeze, freeze !
The last millisecond of the gunshot spread out and echoed across time. No one moved. Fabienne didn’t fall.
I did it!
Emily ran and lunged at Fabienne, bringing her to the ground. A few drops of blood had dripped out of the indentation on her head—but it was just a scratch.
Rising, Emily came head-to-head with the small round bit of metal, suspended in the air.
Quick. She ran to the man and repeated the familiar procedure: gun away, knee to the groin—hell, why not add a poke into the eyes. Then she squatted beside Fabienne and retrieved her watch. She’d created the bubble with a time stop and this watch—or, a future version of it. Who said she couldn’t break it with it?
The air moved. Sounds came back: her time freeze was fading. She pushed the minute hand forward, clenched her jaw, closed her eyes, and clicked the crown down in one determined move.
For the longest millisecond—even in a time freeze—nothing happened.
Then an invisible, chilling wave pulsated from the watch and passed through Emily’s body—a second, and it was gone.
Fabienne groaned, propped herself up on the elbows, and reached for her wound. Another, much more painful groan came from the shadows, followed by cussing.
Emily waited, heart pounding. Would there be another punch?
“What…” Fabienne gasped at the smearing of blood on her hand. The man was still groaning, and as seconds ticked by, Emily realized, in a rush of euphoria, there was no punch incoming.
She’d broken out.
“Come!” She yanked Fabienne up.
“You!” the man yelled, then grunted in pain as they passed his hiding place. “Get back—”
“Run,” she said to Fabienne. “Run after me, as fast as you can.” She ran over Will’s instructions in her head. To the Pennsylvania Avenue—wide, crowded, safe. Get a cab or any fast means of transportation, and to the train station. It’s absolutely crucial Fabienne catches the last train out before they close the whole city down. She must get away.
Her arm pulled back. Fabienne had stumbled. Her face was horribly pale as she sought support from the nearby wall.
“No, no, we can’t stop. We need to run. Just to the end of the alley. Please.”
“What… who…”
“I’ll explain everything when we get to safety.” Emily looped one of Fabienne’s arms around her shoulders and forced her to continue. In a few more steps, they were out in the open. Emily’s eyes zoomed in on a waiting carriage, and she nudged Fabienne toward it. The coachman leaped from his post.
“Good God, what has happened here?”
“We need, uh, transportation,” Emily wheezed. “Please, can you help me—”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Together, they helped Fabienne inside the carriage, and she collapsed on the seat.
“Where to?”
“Train station.” She grabbed the door to hoist herself up.
“I’ll need some payment first.” The driver stopped her. “What with the way you two are looking.”
“I thought you wanted to help!”
“Against payment. Services are services.”
Her hands automatically patted her pockets, stopping when she felt a small, flat object. Triumphantly, she brought out the lucky charm penny. “There you go.” She offered it to the man.
He scoffed. “What is this? I’m not taking Confederate money.”
“That’s not Confederate—”
He tossed the coin back to her. “Proper money, or find another cab.”
“It’s got your damn president on it!” Chest heaving in anger, Emily looked back at Fabienne’s slumped form. Would she have anything? Even a piece of jewelry might persuade the driver. “Just a sec.” She entered the carriage.
“I’m sorry for this.” She patted Fabienne down. Fabienne seemed out of it, though the wound didn’t look too bad, surface-only. Maybe it was the shock.
With a bit of digging, Emily retrieved a leather purse from a concealed pocket in Fabienne’s skirt. Relieved, she grabbed a crisp dollar bill and handed it to the coachman. “There you go—now, drive!”
He looked at the paper, his mouth pursing approvingly. “Yes, ma’am.” He climbed to the bench and set the carriage in motion. Emily collapsed onto her seat, taking a moment to catch her breath.
Her watch had cooled down slightly, but she could still feel it heating her skin through the clothes. With the rush of adrenaline passing, the gravity of the situation overwhelmed her.
She had no way home.
She searched her pockets for the other version, belonging to Fabienne. The wheels in her head, even if a bit rusty, turned and screeched. She still had one watch—a watch that would one day become hers, anyway.
Fabienne stirred. Her eyes opened, drowsily taking in the surroundings.
“Hey,” Emily greeted her. “Me, still. Don’t worry, we’re safe now.”
Fabienne tried to straighten up, but grabbed her head, and Emily quickly steadied her and leaned her on the seat. “Easy. Your wound isn’t bad, but you might have a concussion.”
“I heard a shot—”
“A man attacked you.”
“Where’s my watch?” Panic crept into Fabienne’s mumbling. She patted her dress.
Behind her back, Emily closed her hand around the still-functioning watch, painfully aware of her own, stuffed into the jacket’s pocket. Fabienne wouldn’t have seen it. She didn’t know.
“I need my watch—did you see—a golden watch, with a floral engraving?”
Emily felt like someone else directed her head to shake. “I’m sorry.” She regretted the words even as they left her mouth. “I didn’t see a watch.”
She needed a working one to return home. Fabienne was already in her time—what could she need it for?
Fabienne whimpered. “I need to go. Let me—” She reached for the door.
“No!” Emily dragged Fabienne back onto her seat. “Look, I… I know what’s happening. I’m a time traveler, too. Unaffiliated.”
Fabienne’s eyes widened.
“Please, listen to me. I know what you need to do. We need to get out before they close the city on the hunt for Lincoln’s assassin.”
“Lincoln’s—Lincoln’s dead?”
Emily nodded.
“Then I…” Fabienne lifted from the seat again. “I need to go back. There’s so much to explain—I messed it all up—I don’t understand—”
“I do.” Emily gently held her by the shoulder, and their eyes met.
When she was reading her diary, Emily had always imagined Fabienne as this mature woman who had it all together. She was Will’s mother, and Will was Emily’s age, so naturally, Fabienne would look something like Mama.
But she didn’t. She was young and frightened. And if Emily didn’t do everything right, she’d never turn into the woman who wrote the diary.
“Trust me.” Emily put all the sincerity and determination into her tone, with a dash of Mrs. Spencer’s strictness.
Maybe, even though she didn’t know they were family, Fabienne could feel a connection. Because after a long moment, she nodded. “What do we do?”
Emily sat back in her seat. “We escape.”