8
Thomas led the way directly out of the caverns. The daylight was a dim late afternoon absent of direct sun, but was still enough to cause a discomfort to eyes now conditioned by darkness. Rachel shielded her eyes momentarily from the new light, breathing heavily. She had yet to study the similarities between her brother and their new friend. Thomas wanted to confirm his reaction to William’s appearance by gauging Rachel’s. Rachel, bent over recovering from the sunlight, heard her brother announce in a pointed tone:
“Rachel, I would like you to meet someone I just met for the first time: Mr. William Monterey, This is my younger sister, Rachel.”
William remained silent, taking in all of this newness.
“Thomas, I know you’ve never met Mr. Monterey before.” Rachel started to raise her head.
“We do not have any cousins in these parts that…” Rachel stopped, dumbfounded. She had just seen William’s features. Stopping in mid sentence, she was silent for a minute, glancing at William, shifting her gaze to different parts of his face and body.
“…Any cousins that I am aware of. Hello, Mr. Monterey, is there something I need to know with respect to the fact that you are just as handsome as my brother?”
William blushed slightly. He was certain the compliment was directed more his way than Thomas’s.
“Actually Rachel, it is a pure coincidence. I am quite certain your brother and I have no common ties! By the way, I am very pleased to meet you. Please call me William. You folks still practice formalities long forgotten where I come from. I cannot tell you just how much I appreciate you both helping me like you did.”
“Well, Thomas, our Mr. Monterey…” Rachel stopped again. “William,” she corrects herself, “must have certainly come from the same mold as you. He not only looks like you, he sounds like you. His words may be of different origin, but his speech, mannerism and tone are identical to yours.”
The three of them had traveled a short distance from the building at the entrance of the caverns. Now Thomas could see the front end of the tour group that had entered the caverns with him only hours ago, emerge. Stoically, he maintained an intense focus on his surroundings. He was determined not to expose William to anybody in the area. The law of the land in Virginia during this time was simple: if you were strange or acted strange, then you must be guilty of a crime. Persecution for those found to be outcasts from society was severe. Thomas interrupted Rachel’s idle chitchat to convey to both of them the seriousness of the situation.
“We best get on our way. I will summon Bentley to fetch the carriage.”
William was able to surmise that Bentley was a servant, and the carriage was horse-drawn. He was correct. Bentley was an African-American man, fifty years old or so, who was very attentive to Thomas’s instruction. William could tell that Bentley was a loyal servant and that Thomas appeared to have treated him well. The carriage they were riding in was the most beautiful example of fine detailed craftsmanship William had ever seen. Rachel and Thomas chatted about the dinner that awaited them at home and which dishes and cooks were their favorites.
“Mrs. Brown made the best grits. I miss her cooking the most!”
“Yes, Thomas, I do not think anyone ever cooked for you as well as she did.”
William could hear their voices but closed his eyes, seeming to be asleep until both Thomas and Rachel were quiet for more than a minute. Then the silence was broken.
“What year is this?” William asked without shifting his head from its resting position nor opening his eyes.
“William, you are awake after all!”
William opened his eyes wide now, a somber look on his face. He stared directly at Thomas and then to Rachel and then returned to Thomas.
“I need to know what year this is!”
“Why is it William, that you do not know what year this is?” Thomas asked, concerned that perhaps the stranger in his carriage had escaped from a mental institution.
“Are you mentally ill in some way, William? Do you think that the bang on your head has affected your memory in some way?” Rachel was less reluctant to speak her mind.
“Rachel, please be polite to our guest!”
“I apologize, William, this is the year of the Lord 1892, it is Saturday July 22, 1892.”
“Well, at least I am at the right day and month, which I was at when I awoke this morning. This morning at precisely 8:00 AM, my digital radio alarm clock awoke with The Who singing My Generation. I did not think anything of it then.” By then, the realization that William was in the year 1892 began to set in.
“1892 huh? People try to put me down.” William was now singing. “Just because I get around.” Thomas and Rachel were both bewildered. “Things I do look awfully dumb”. William was starting to raise his voice. “Talking about, my generation.”
Bentley was attempting to look into the carriage from his perch to investigate this commotion.
“My generation.” William now lowered his voice to a soft whisper. “My generation.” Thomas and Rachel looked at each other and back at William, expecting him to continue. He was not paying attention to their reaction but continued for his own sake.
“My dad loved The Who. It must have rubbed off on me. I have seen them six times live in concert. One of my favorite albums is Quadrophenia. When it was released in 1973, it was hailed unequivocally as a masterpiece. Townshend masterfully created a story of a young rebel, into an astonishing 17 songs. And you know even though Roger Daltry did not speak a word in the movie Tommy, he was so perfect in the part. Most people did not know that he almost drowned while filming an underwater scene in the movie. The crew realized he was in trouble just in time to dive in and help him. Today I almost feel like I did in 1979 when 11 people were trampled to death in Cincinnati waiting to see one of their concerts. My dad and I were caught in the middle of it. Little did I know people were dying a few feet away.”
With his head now turned outward staring at the moving scenery, William continued recounting his day. Purposely William set out to include as much reference to his modern day technology so as to convince his hosts that he was from another time.
“When I woke up, I kissed my wife Kate good morning, walked across the Saxony Stain Master wall-to-wall carpeting on our apartment floor. Can you believe there is even wall-to-wall carpeting in the bathroom? I stepped in our one-piece acrylic shower stall, twisted the washer-less faucet all the way to hot and soaked my skin with almost scalding water. I should have stopped right there and then, and gone back to bed. The heater under our waterbed mattress had been acting up ever since we moved. I told the salesman who sold it to me at Waterbed World that I wanted a good quality heater. ‘Don’t you worry!’ he said. ‘The heater comes with a lifetime warranty. If you are not completely happy with it just bring it back and we will exchange it: No questions asked!’ It sounded good at the time. But then if you think about it, why go through the trouble of emptying out your water bed just to return a heater that acts up once in awhile?”
William hesitated. Rachel and Thomas stared in complete wonderment of the meaning of William’s words. They had no inclination to interrupt him. William continued. “My Volvo started this morning without hesitation. Kate had the electronic fuel injection serviced. I was a little concerned about the car. I asked her in the elevator when we left our fifth floor apartment, ‘Kate are you sure the mechanic found the problem? Did he test-drive the car? Did he get it to travel at a highway speed of at least 75 miles per hour? Did the car hold its speed for more than five minutes?’ She assured me the car would be fine, she was right. The car ride this morning was so peaceful; I didn’t even take my cellular phone. No two-way radio, no cell phone, no fax machine, no computer, no e-mail… E-mail, Shii-oot I completely forgot to send the e-mail to Tony Torco last night.” William shook his head and added, “Too bad! Say, you wouldn’t happen to have a cellular-equipped hand held PDA unit that I could use to send an e-mail to the twenty-first century would you?” Thomas and Rachel sat captive in their seats unsure how to react. “No I guess not, then why would you? This is 1892!”
“William, do you really mean to tell us that you are here from another time and place?” Thomas asked as if he really wanted it to be so! William unbuttoned Thomas’s overcoat and slipped it off. Rachel quickly reacted with embarrassment.
“William, really have you no concern with my presence, disrobing to your undergarments!”
“Feel my suit. In the time I come from, people wear a suit like this as outerwear. Do you know this fabric?” Both Rachel and Thomas leaned in William’s direction almost in slow motion to feel the fabric of his track-suit.
“Which animal of the future does this material come from?” Thomas asked.
“Please do not tell me you believe this impossibility!” Rachel added.
“Rachel, I am telling you the truth. I have no reason to make up such an impossibility. This fabric will not be invented for forty years. It is called nylon; it does not come from any animal but rather a chemical.
“I need your help,” William continued, “to determine how this has happened to me and how I can rejoin my family.”
Just then, Bentley shouted from his outside perch. “Mr. Thomas, we have company approaching.”
By now dusk had painted the early evening sky of Virginia with dark gray and soft black shadows on the horizon. Peering out of the window of the carriage door William was able to make out approaching horsemen. Remembering his earlier encounter with a group on horseback, he hurriedly replaced Thomas’s overcoat over his body.
“Please do not let these men know I am with you, please let your driver know not to reveal me.”
“Do not concern yourself with Bentley, he is my loyal servant and only acts as I instruct him to do so.”
The horses pulling the carriage drew to a halt. Thomas emerged even before the carriage completely stopped.
“Good evening, Mr. Byronville.”
“Mr. Brookfield, Mr. Bulow, any luck in the search for your child?” William was startled that Thomas knew these men, and more so that he knew of the disappearance of the baby they talked about earlier. A new fear overcame William, and his mind raced to find a means of escape.
“We found…” Matthew Bulow was quickly interrupted by Charles Brookfield.
“Nothing, Mr. Byronville, our search today was futile. We will resume our efforts tomorrow and continue for as long as it will take to locate my nephew’s lost child.”
“Uncle, Daniel is not lost. He was abducted by a stranger in the area.”
Rachel’s eyes darted to William’s. He returned the stare, looking directly at Rachel without blinking, as if to dare her to find any sign of guilt in his soul. Rachel, believing William’s stare to be a confirmation of his friendliness and vulnerability, slowly lowered her head as if to accept William’s plea for sympathy.
“Well, please let me know if I can send some help. I would be glad to have my men assist you in your search,” Thomas offered to the tired group as reassurance of his sincere concern.
“That will not be necessary, Mr. Byronville,” Matthew replied, “but thank you just the same.”
“Matthew, tomorrow it may be wise to split up and search the ravine on foot. We need to comb the entire area, every square inch for any sign of Daniel. I am convinced he is still in the area. If you can spare some of your men, we can use the help.”
“I will have ten of my worker men at your home at sunup tomorrow, now if you will excuse us we must be on our way.”
Thomas realized he said “us” and that he would not be expected to include his servant when referring to the plurality of those present in the carriage, so he quickly qualified, “My sister Rachel and I have had a long and tiring day.”
Just as he finished mentioning that Rachel was accompanying him, she pulled Thomas away from the opening of the carriage door, and addressed the men on horseback. At first this restrictive change of face visible through the carriage door seemed odd to Matthew, but his thoughts were interrupted by the quick exchanges of greetings.
“You will have to excuse my brother if he seems callous. I am certain that your day has been considerably more tiring than ours. If you men care to join us?” Both Thomas and William were notably startled by Rachel’s invitation. “We would be happy to host you at our home for dinner.”
“Thank you for your generosity, Miss Rachel, but we best be getting back to Sarah.” William was relieved to hear that reply from Charles.
“Very well. Please ask Sarah to spend the day with me tomorrow. Bentley and I will be over mid-morning to fetch her.”
“I think that to be a good idea, Miss Rachel. I know she will appreciate your company.”
The men bid Rachel a good night and Thomas echoed the salutation from within the carriage. As the carriage pulled away, Matthew and the others directed their horses back on track in the direction of their homes.
“Uncle, did you notice that the stranger who eluded us today bore a strange resemblance to Thomas Byronville? Did you not find it strange that the Byronvilles chose not to completely exit their carriage? Did you have the feeling as I that they were trying to hide something?”
“The stranger we found today was scared out of his mind, he is now dead. Coincidentally there was a resemblance to Byronville, but I can assure you they were worlds apart. What could they possibly have to hide from us? No, Matthew, I just think they were as anxious to get home as I certainly am at this point.”
With that Charles whipped his horse and sped away. The others fell in speed and were now riding as a group. Matthew got the message that his uncle was disappointed with his actions earlier in the day and, as hesitating to reflect would leave him alone in the dark, he whipped his horse, harder than needed. He knew that perhaps he had overreacted, but he felt he had done what he had to under the circumstances.