Chapter 61 Time Consequences
Niles
Twenty-One Years in The Past
Timeline: Weeks before the Dralutheran War
“Dessin would be so proud of me, honestly,” I tell Renly.
“Uh-huh!”
Dessin would have rather been baptized in bleach than admit that to me out loud. Though it’s definitely true. Renly and I have mapped out the exits, the guard schedules, and the societal timing of when villagers are out and about. I forgot they have a curfew, so the streets are empty after dusk.
Our best chance at getting Renly home is on Sunday morning—three days from now. The next public execution. The plan has been combed through thoroughly at all hours of the night when I should be sleeping. And it’s Dessin-approved. Maybe. Probably.
Renly gasps. “Mr. Niles!”
I raise my eyebrows, pausing my terrible drawing of the execution block in the gray dirt.
“Your scalp…it’s bleeding again.”
A stab of dread and anxiety hit me square in the chest. I tap my fingertips to my hairline. Ruby smears down my hand. I should have known. The pounding migraine was only getting worse, and every time it pulses behind my eyes, my pores begin to bleed.
“Ah,” I sigh, wiping the blood away on my pants. “My skin is just attempting to detox the disgusting air in this place. Blehk.”
Renly doesn’t look as convinced as he usually does.
“But—well, Mr. Niles—your hair too.”
I don’t have to check my reflection in a mirror to know what he’s talking about. Since I’ve arrived, my dark-blonde hair has lightened to silver and gray at an unnatural rate. I look down at my hands. The sunspots. The skin turning thin and nearly translucent.
“You could be a grandpa!” Renly adds in mild disgust, but mostly pitiful empathy.
Ah, children.
I can only imagine how much my face has been affected. Could it be because I don’t belong in this time? Could it be because there is another me alive in this time?
“Just ignore that,” I tell him sternly, then wink.
Renly giggles into his hand, careful not to wake the others.
“We’ll go over the plan again?” he asks with a small lisp.
“Several times until we can rehearse it backward. Now, give me the runaround.”
“Saturday night, when I am sent on waste duty, I pack the rations and water we’ve been collecting in the waste buckets.
When we take turns disposing, I’ll hide a separate bucket in the drains.
On Sunday morning, when no one’s looking—we make a run for it!
We hide in the drains until dark, then race to the East Vexello Mountains, say we know Helga Bee and need safe passage to Dementia! ”
“He’s a scholar, ladies and gentlemen!” I whisper to the sleeping room.
“You made a brilliant plan, Mr. Niles,” Renly yawns and curls up in the corner to sleep. “Your Dessin would be proud.”
I smile sadly at the ceiling.
“Yeah. He would.”