15
With the help of Bentley, William had found pen and paper. He sat at the dining room table, writing and sketching. His pen was moving rapidly, ink from the ink well was splashing on the pages. William frantically dipped the pen at regular intervals to keep the ink flowing as rapidly as his ideas.
William had detailed an account of his last morning with Kate, Tara and Nicole. Hour by hour he listed all that he could recall. Adjacent to his notes he sketched small diagrams, indicating direction and indicating relationship of the subjects in his notes. His diary of the morning’s events finally placed him at their destination.
William now scribbled The Natural Bridge as a new heading on a new page. William stopped for a moment and looked at all of the large pages arranged on the table in their proper time line. He realized they told him nothing about what had caused him to be transported in time. William glanced at the blank page before him with the three-word heading. “The Natural Bridge,” William heard himself say in the empty room. He continued sketching and noting everything he could remember about his visit to the Natural Bridge, his eyes glittering as if they had found some partial answer to his quest.
The silence within the house was broken in adjacent rooms. William could hear doors opening and closing as well as footsteps and voices now coming in his direction.
“Hello, Thomas, how was your boat outing?” William heard himself say while he still studied his last page.
Thomas had entered the dining room; his hands were busy buttoning the remainder of his many buttons on the front and sleeves of his shirt. Thomas did not answer too quickly; instead he glared at the paper trail on the expansive table, following it directly to William and to his eyes.
“Good afternoon, William, I see you have found something to do to occupy your time.”
William was not sure if he detected a tone that was less friendly than the one displayed by Thomas yesterday.
“Do I detect some concern with me in your voice today? If it’s this mess I will clean it up so that you will never have known I was here.” William paused for a moment inviting a response from Thomas.
Thomas waited a few moments, and sensing that William was anticipating his response, spoke softly and directly. “No, Thomas, I do not mind your work whatever it may be. Please make yourself at home. I have instructed my staff to provide you with anything you require.” Thomas stopped.
“But?” William asked, visibly puzzled.
“But…?”
“There must be a ‘but’ coming up here. Look, Thomas, you and your sister have been very kind to me, and I have tried to be honest with you. I assure you I am not hiding anything from you. Last night I told you the truth, I am here from another time. This paper work…” William stopped speaking to move forward to the first page. “This paper work represents what happened to me yesterday morning. Here, see for yourself!”
William collected all of the penned sheets and stacked them in order. William presented his notations to Thomas, explaining the events that led up to the incident at the Natural Bridge.
Thomas handled some of the sheets as William passed them forward; he carefully studied the notes. The style of the writing was a technical lettering used by technicians or architects, all upper-case printing. Thomas was becoming more convinced there must be some element of truth to what William was telling him.
Thomas wanted more than anything else to believe William, but even if his story were true, it did not absolutely preclude him from being a suspect in the abduction of his son.
“William, I do believe your story, even though it seems impossible. You do display some certain knowledge and mannerism that I have never before experienced. I very much want to believe you. I do appreciate that you say you have been honest with us. However, there is something that I promised someone dear to me that I would ask of you.” Thomas hesitated again as if he were keeping his question a secret.
“I maybe from the future, but let me assure you that in the next 110 years they have not figured out a way to read minds, so if you want to ask me something, you’d better spit it out while you have your chance!”
Thomas looked William straight in the eyes and blurted out, “Did you abduct Sarah’s baby Daniel at the Natural Bridge, where you claim to have been in the future?”
William stepped away from Thomas.
“Of course not.” William dropped the wad of papers on a chair next to him. “Thomas, I swear to you I had nothing to do with the disappearance ”
Loud banging on the front door of the house interrupted the confrontation between the two men.
“Bentley, who is at the door with such aggressive knocking? William, I think I believe, at least I want to believe you. You best remain here. I have a feeling this intrusion has something to do with you.”
Bentley had reached the front door and as soon as he released the latch, Matthew Bulow barged in. Thomas was stepping through the entrance from the dining room.
“Mr. Bulow, I certainly hope you have a logical explanation to…” Thomas realized Matthew Bulow was armed. “How dare you storm into my home with a weapon!”
Bulow was in a rage. He did not say a word but just looked Thomas straight in the eyes and raised his weapon and took aim at his head. By now Rachel had heard the noise and was emerging from the second floor.
“Mr. Bulow! Have you gone insane?”
William was attempting to listen to what was happening while hiding behind the dining room door.
Thomas trembled, certain there was a bullet in the chamber of the rifle Matthew Bulow was holding, a bullet meant to snuff out his life. Matthew Bulow meant to make him pay for the crime of falling in love with his wife.
“Mr. Byronville, please ask your sister to not interfere.”
“Interfere? You come into my home and point a weapon at my brother’s head and you have the nerve to suggest that I not interfere! Sir, I demand that in the name of God you remove your weapon from that position at once!”
Bulow ignored Rachel. He stared at Thomas’s forehead, cold with sweat, and his knees shaking against the creases of his woolen trousers. Bulow was savoring the feeling of power over someone wealthier than he. Purposely, he waited longer to make his demands known than he had originally intended.
“Bulow, go ahead and shoot. I can only tell you I have no regrets!”
Bulow was not listening to the meaning of Thomas’s words; he was determined to get what he came for. As Thomas attempted to continue confessing his proud and profound love for Sarah, Bulow shouted:
“Where is he?”
William heard that statement loud and clear. He looked around to see how he could escape. A second door in the dining room to the kitchen was in the opposite corner of the door to the entrance. He scrambled to it, knocking over a chair in his path.
Bulow stepped in the direction of the dining room. Thomas found the strength to step in his path.
“Byronville, do not try to protect the person responsible for the disappearance of my son. I will shoot you dead in your own house in front of your sister.”
With the rifle still aimed at Thomas’s head, Bulow walked around Thomas toward the dining room door. Bulow backed up near the dining room door and turned sideways, kicking the door open all in one motion. He side-stepped into the room while keeping Thomas at bay with the pointed rifle. Bulow looked around the room. It was empty of all but the large table and chairs with paper flung on one of the chairs. He crouched slowly to check under the table, but no one was there. He glanced back in the entrance; no one had moved. He felt powerful now, very much in control. As he pondered his next move, he glanced in the direction of the dining room windows and back to the entrance. He had seen something outside.
Quickly he jammed a chair under the doorknob of the dining room door to the entrance and took aim at the figure running away from the house.
William had found the rear door of the kitchen and had run outside away from the house. He was running as fast as his legs would carry him, his style mimicking a modern-day track sprinter, unaware that a gunman inside the house was carefully taking aim at his back.
Thomas had darted for the blocked door and rammed into it; his upper body strength was no match for the solid oak chair that kept the door from opening. He quickly turned and opened the entrance closet and removed a pistol. As he took time to load his gun, he heard the loud thunder of the rifle explode in the dining room, its bullet shattering the glass of the window in its path.
Smoke filled the room. Bulow was certain he had hit his mark and quickly headed for the kitchen door.
William heard the shot being fired and the simultaneous loud shattering of glass. His brain was just about to send a message to his body instructing it to duck, but just as quickly as he heard the firing of the rifle, he felt the burning of flesh in his right shoulder. His body was flung to the ground. William had just arrived at the top of the rolling embankment leading to the edge of the lake. The momentum of his speed and his fall carried him into the water.
Bulow was exiting the rear kitchen door, witnessing the figure of a man lifting himself at the edge of the lake. As Bulow prepared to reload his rifle, he could see the man was injured, his right arm now covered in blood.
Thomas was armed and running through the kitchen. Through the open rear door he could see Bulow closing the barrel of his rifle and lifting it in the direction of the lake. There was no time to yell. Thomas threw himself from within the room through the opening of the door, tackling Bulow, causing the rifle to once again fire in the direction of the lake.
As William lifted himself out of the water, holding onto the top of his right arm, he heard another shot. This time the bullet entered the water twenty feet in front of him. William didn’t want to give the shooter time to reload. Without hesitation, he turned in the direction of the horse barn and ran for his life.