Time Travelers Never Die Part 18

SHEL lost track of Dave. The victims, still choking on tear gas, lay broken and bleeding in the roadway. The crowd began to disperse. There were scattered voices, people saying they deserved it, maybe next time they'll know better, got no choice. They wandered back into Selma. The police, after a delay, allowed the medics in. lost track of Dave. The victims, still choking on tear gas, lay broken and bleeding in the roadway. The crowd began to disperse. There were scattered voices, people saying they deserved it, maybe next time they'll know better, got no choice. They wandered back into Selma. The police, after a delay, allowed the medics in.

They put the more seriously injured on stretchers and loaded them into the ambulances. Others staggered away, back toward the Brown Chapel.

Shel got a whiff of the tear gas, and his eyes began to water.

"Look out," said a guy behind him. "Wind's coming this way."

The man stood a few feet away, shaking his head silently.

"Where are the victims going?" asked Shel.

"Probably Good Samaritan," he said. "It's the only hospital that'll take them."

HE went back to the Brown Chapel. The demonstrators stumbled in amid sobs and screams. Two of the ambulances were unloading. Volunteers helped victims into the parsonage and tried to calm hysterical children. As he watched, a victim was carried out of the building on a stretcher and placed in a waiting hea.r.s.e. Moments later a second hea.r.s.e joined the first. A man got into the driver's seat. One of the stretcher carriers climbed in back and pulled the doors shut. A woman hurried around to talk to the driver. "Wait, James," she said. went back to the Brown Chapel. The demonstrators stumbled in amid sobs and screams. Two of the ambulances were unloading. Volunteers helped victims into the parsonage and tried to calm hysterical children. As he watched, a victim was carried out of the building on a stretcher and placed in a waiting hea.r.s.e. Moments later a second hea.r.s.e joined the first. A man got into the driver's seat. One of the stretcher carriers climbed in back and pulled the doors shut. A woman hurried around to talk to the driver. "Wait, James," she said.

"What's wrong?"

"They're filling up at Samaritan. Take them to Burwell. You know where that is?"

"Sure."

"Go."

Shel intercepted her on the way back inside. "How bad is it?"

"Bad," she said. "They're all maniacs." She took a moment to control her voice. "Broken bones mostly. But the tear gas was the worst. They can't get it out of their lungs." Her eyes were ice-cold. "Those homemade clubs. They used garden hoses with nails. The sons of-" She started to cry, shook it off, and hurried back inside.

Shel followed her in and did what he could. He helped carry stretchers, took fresh bandages to the doctors, got water for people whose legs had been broken. After a while it became more than he could take, and he went outside. He sucked in air, tried to block off what he was seeing, watched a child carried screaming from the building. Then he went back in.

FINALLY, the worst of it seemed done. The more seriously injured patients had been hurried away. The others had returned to their homes or to whatever temporary shelters had been arranged. The Burwell Infirmary turned out to be a nursing home operated for forty years by Minnie B. Anderson. Prior to the day's events, it had been jammed to overflowing, but they'd made room. the worst of it seemed done. The more seriously injured patients had been hurried away. The others had returned to their homes or to whatever temporary shelters had been arranged. The Burwell Infirmary turned out to be a nursing home operated for forty years by Minnie B. Anderson. Prior to the day's events, it had been jammed to overflowing, but they'd made room.

Shel had had enough. This was a day that would change him forever. He had not believed human nature, on a ma.s.s scale, capable of such depravity. Not that he wasn't aware that it had happened. But reading about things like this, and experiencing them-l iving through it-It had been a long time since he'd cried.

There was no sign of Dave. Probably, when things got bad, he'd hit the trigger and jumped out of there. Gone home. He hoped so. He walked back toward Broad Street, looking for a place that was more or less empty. But there were people everywhere. Eventually, he decided the h.e.l.l with it, turned onto Broad, saw two deputies approaching, walked into the entry of a clothing store-which was, since it was Sunday, closed-and hit the b.u.t.ton. He didn't think anyone had noticed.

Didn't really care anymore.

HIS den had never looked, felt, safer. den had never looked, felt, safer.

He had just begun to relax when a nimbus formed. Thank G.o.d. Dave was okay. He drew a deep breath, but then held it. The figure inside was not not Dave. Dave.

The light grew brighter, started to fade, and a puzzled, overweight little guy in a police sergeant's uniform staggered out, grabbed hold of a chair arm, and looked around in a state of shock. He was holding the converter in his right hand. His eyes locked on Shel while his jaw dropped. "What the G.o.ddam h.e.l.l happened?" he demanded. "Where am I?"

"It's okay, Sergeant," Shel said.

The cop was terrified. Where is this? What happened to the G.o.ddam jail? Then he took a second look at Shel. "I know you."

"I don't think so. We've never met."

"You were out at the bridge. A little while ago."

"Yes. But I didn't see you."

"h.e.l.l, you didn't. You were staring at me."

"Take it easy, Sarge. I think you had a blackout."

"What are you talking about? I don't have G.o.ddam blackouts. Where is this place? How'd I get here?"

"This is what did it," said Shel, pointing at the converter. He reached for it, tried to take it. But the sergeant s.n.a.t.c.hed it back.

"Tell me what's happening, d.a.m.n it."

"The converter. In your hand. It packs a wallop. An electrical charge."

"What?"

"Electricity. I think it shocked you. Better put it down." He flipped it like a hot rock. "What's your name, Sergeant?"

"Jay. Jay Taylor."

"Okay, Jay. My name's Shel. Everything's under control."

"So where the G.o.ddam h.e.l.l are we?"

"Listen." Shel picked up the converter, pretending to handle it with great care. "Let me fix this. Then we can go out and get in the car, and I'll take you back to the station."

"I still don't-"

"Just hang on a second while I make sure this thing can't do any more damage." He matched its setting to his own unit. When he was satisfied, he held it out to the sergeant.

"No, thanks," Taylor said.

"It's okay. I turned it off."

The guy was staring across the room at his computer. "What's that?" he asked.

"My TV."

"That's not a TV."

"Listen, you want to get back, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." He opened the cover and held out the converter again. "Hold this while I get my car keys."

He took it. Reluctantly. Shel pressed the black b.u.t.ton, and immediately did the same with his own unit.

THEY were back on Broad Street. In the entry to the clothing store. The sergeant staggered, and Shel grabbed for the converter. But the policeman tried to hold on to it. "Malfunction, Jay!" Shel said. "Let go of it. Quick." were back on Broad Street. In the entry to the clothing store. The sergeant staggered, and Shel grabbed for the converter. But the policeman tried to hold on to it. "Malfunction, Jay!" Shel said. "Let go of it. Quick."

He did. Shel grabbed it. They drew the attention of a deputy about sixty feet away. He came running. "What the h.e.l.l, Jay?" he said. "You okay?"

"He's not feeling well," said Shel. "Jay, I think you had another blackout." He turned to the deputy. "I'm glad to see you."

The deputy tried to take hold of the sergeant, but he shook free. Backed against a wall and faced Shel. "G.o.ddam it," he said. "Who are you, anyway? What's goin' on?"

"I don't know," said Shel. "I was just trying to help." And, to the deputy: "I think he needs medical help, Officer."

"Stay clear," growled Jay. "I don't need any help."

Shel backed away. "He's had a hard day," he told the deputy.

Jay was enraged. He charged. Grabbed Shel by his jacket. "You're going to have a hard day, you little son of a b.i.t.c.h, if you don't start answering questions." going to have a hard day, you little son of a b.i.t.c.h, if you don't start answering questions."

At that, the deputy also tried to get hold of Shel, who, being able to take a hint, pushed the b.u.t.ton.

BACK in his town house again, Shel took a minute to sit down. The fact that Jay had come into possession of the converter suggested Dave was in jail rather than a hospital. That was good news. The bad news was that it would be easier to get him out of a hospital room than a cell. in his town house again, Shel took a minute to sit down. The fact that Jay had come into possession of the converter suggested Dave was in jail rather than a hospital. That was good news. The bad news was that it would be easier to get him out of a hospital room than a cell.

Shel was getting better at manipulating the converter. He'd been able to lock in the precise location of the west side of the Pettis Bridge, and from that was able to calculate a decent estimate to get to the eastern side. If he could accomplish that, he'd be able to see precisely what did did happen. And he needed to get there while the attack was still going on. d.a.m.n. The prospect of having to watch it all again did nothing for his state of mind. happen. And he needed to get there while the attack was still going on. d.a.m.n. The prospect of having to watch it all again did nothing for his state of mind.

First, he needed to shower and change. It had been a long day. Literally. (He allowed himself a smile at that.) And he hoped that Dave hadn't been hurt.

He hurried through his shower. Haste made no difference, of course. He could take his time, but he couldn't get past a sense of urgency. When he'd gotten into some fresh clothes, he did his calculations and reset the converter. There was a risk: His father claimed he could count on landing on a solid surface. (Shel knew the hard way that idea didn't hold water.) Okay. He'd be arriving near the Alabama River. So he decided to take no chances and put his converter in a waterproof bag. He didn't want to take a chance getting stuck in 1965.

Rescuing David would be easy, of course, if the cops would allow him to carry two converters into the jail and hand one to their prisoner. But that wasn't going to happen.

He put David's unit into a box, padded it with newspapers, closed the box, and taped it shut. Then he wrote the following instruction on the front: To: Adrian Shelborne U.S. Post Office Selma, Alabama To Be Kept Until Called For He clipped the other converter to his belt, put on a light jacket, and picked up the box.

SHEL arrived immediately behind the state police just as the front of the line was pa.s.sing the midway point of the bridge. Some of the troopers were on horses. They were backed up by a swarm of men not in uniform but clearly looking for a fight. arrived immediately behind the state police just as the front of the line was pa.s.sing the midway point of the bridge. Some of the troopers were on horses. They were backed up by a swarm of men not in uniform but clearly looking for a fight.

The marchers kept coming. A deadly silence settled over the scene. Then John Cloud stepped forward and held up a hand. He looked like an ordinary guy. Shel wondered if he had a family. And that was what rendered this so chilling. Would Cloud order the unprovoked a.s.sault on the marchers, then go home and have dinner with his wife and kids?

Lewis and Williams were, of course, in front. Cloud moved directly into their path. The marchers slowed. And stopped. He spotted Dave, just coming over the rise.

"We don't want any trouble here," Cloud said. "You have two minutes to break this up and go back."

Jay and another sergeant were standing with the city cops. Jay was looking around, making sure his men were doing their duty, and he caught Shel looking at him. He stared back for a moment, then turned away.

What had Jay said?

"You were out at the bridge. You were staring at me."

The cops and their allies tightened their lines. Brandished weapons. He saw a few with tear-gas canisters. There must have been a signal, but Shel didn't see it. Nevertheless, they moved forward as one and went after the front of the march, swinging nightsticks. The air filled with the sound of batons striking flesh and bone. The marchers broke before the onslaught, and the screaming started. Less than a minute had gone by since Cloud had issued his warning. By then more police had moved in, and the entire line of demonstrators was under attack.

Shel backed away. The TV people shouted directions. Someone was talking into a microphone.

SHEL lost sight of Dave during the attack, but when it was over he was lying in the roadway. He watched as two policemen hauled him to his feet and dragged him toward a waiting van. Shel tried to go to his aid, but again he was pushed back. "He's hurt," Shel told one of the officers. "He's a friend of mine." lost sight of Dave during the attack, but when it was over he was lying in the roadway. He watched as two policemen hauled him to his feet and dragged him toward a waiting van. Shel tried to go to his aid, but again he was pushed back. "He's hurt," Shel told one of the officers. "He's a friend of mine."

"We'll take care of him, sir," the policeman said, with a warning stare.

When the roadway was clear, ambulances began to arrive. They recovered the more seriously injured and pulled away.

Shel set his converter to take him back two days. It deposited him again just outside the clothing store. On Friday. Twenty minutes later, he was at the post office. He gave them the package containing David's converter, got a receipt, and returned to Sunday on the far side of the bridge.

When he was sure he wasn't being watched, he strode off US 80 and into the trees that lined the river. He found a patch in a remote location, removed his converter, put it into the plastic bag, and hid it in a thick cl.u.s.ter of bushes. He marked the spot with a couple of rocks to ensure he could find it again.

He'd divided the units because if something went wrong and they disappeared, he and Dave would be stuck. This way, if either went missing, he could use the other to track it down and, he hoped, recover it.

Caution was the watchword.

[image]

HE flagged down a taxi. "The jail, please." flagged down a taxi. "The jail, please."

The driver, a beefy red-faced guy who smelled of beer, laughed. "They're pretty busy down there today."

"Yeah. So I hear."

"You get a chance to whack any of 'em?"

"No," said Shel.

They pulled away from the curb. "I wish I'd been there. But I had to work today."

"Pity. You know, I'd always thought that when everything else went to h.e.l.l, we'd still have taxi drivers."

The driver turned sideways. "What do you mean?"

"It's okay," he said. "Forget it."

DESPITE the driver's a.s.sertion, the police station was quiet. You would not have believed there was anything unusual going on in Selma. Shel looked around and was relieved that Jay wasn't there. the driver's a.s.sertion, the police station was quiet. You would not have believed there was anything unusual going on in Selma. Shel looked around and was relieved that Jay wasn't there.