The scarred stranger shook his head. "You just lost me again, pal. If he's one of Carreras' men, why didn't he just shoot both of us? I gave him a rifle," he added brusquely, with a dark glance toward Dan.
"Yeah, well, it isn't real clear to me, either," McKee muttered. McKee rubbed grit out of his hair. "Look, buddy, I don't know much about what's going on, so there isn't much I can tell you. My name's Logan McKee, like the colonel, here, said. I'm nobody special, just an escaped lunatic who found out too much about Carreras by accident. This guy is Colonel Dan Collins, in charge of this whole mixed up time-travel mess."
The stranger shot Dan an intent stare.
McKee was still talking. "He claims his family and a bunch of other people are being held hostage. I didn't believe him. Now I'm not so sure. He did keep you from shooting me. Like you say, I don't figure he'd have done that if he was one of Carreras' men."
"Hostages?" the stranger repeated. "Jesus H— No wonder..." He focused on Dan's face. Then glanced at McKee. "I don't know what he told you, McKee, but I'd be inclined to believe him. Carreras does have hostages. I've seen the list of names. Somebody called Firelli"—both McKee and Dan started—"and some kid named Zac Hughes, and a woman and her son." He swung on Dan. "Collins. Their names were Collins. Lucille and Danny."
Dan asked very quietly, "How do you know that?"
The stranger hesitated. Then his face closed into something completely unreadable. "I've had a few business dealings with Carreras. Snooped into some things I didn't expect to find."
Dan began to sweat again. "Mister, what you know about us is not only one of the most classified military secrets in history, it's also enough to get a whole lot of innocent people killed. And we don't know jack shit about you."
The stranger just grinned, a red-haired imp in the light from the truck's headlamps. "Good. I think I like it that way. You can," he added, "call me Charlie."
"Well, Charlie," McKee said dryly, still holding the rifle, "would you mind at least telling us where we are? We weren't supposed to end up here at all."
Charlie's brows dove together. "That's very interesting, gentlemen. Very interesting, indeed. No wonder you were arguing so intently."
McKee grimaced and muttered under his breath.
Charlie laughed aloud. "You don't know how good that makes me feel, McKee. I haven't exactly had a good year—"
"A year?" Dan gasped.
Charlie darted him a surprised glance. "Well, actually, it's been four. But the past year was, in some ways, the worst. You're the hotshot engineer, Collins. Can't you see it? Time on this end is completely irrelevant. For all I know, back home it's the same day Carreras' crew dumped me here to die. Or maybe that was twenty years ago. Or fifty years from now. Time on this end doesn't mean a thing."
Dan shook his head. "No, it can't have been more than four months. They haven't had access to the equipment longer than that."
Charlie's glance was keen. "That so? Good. Then they're still learning."
Dan shuddered. "Yes."
"Well." He seemed to shake off some impenetrable thought process, then glanced at McKee. "To answer your question, you're standing on the beachfront near the spa town of Stabiae, on the southeastern edge of the Bay of Naples, sometime on the morning after Vesuvius blew up. The year's, uh, a.d. 79, the way we count years. That"—he pointed off inland, into the heart of the black ashfall—"is Vesuvius. That"—he pointed across the bay at the triremes—"is the Roman Navy, which tried to get to Herculaneum and Pompeii last night to rescue survivors." His voice darkened. "They didn't make it. We almost didn't. We got out of Herculaneum harbor right ahead of the eruption." Something in his voice made Dan's skin crawl.
McKee's keen insight startled Dan. "Who didn't make it out, Charlie?"
Charlie turned away from them. He stared across the dark water. Ash settled blackly across his shoulders and hair and scarred back. "Another of Carreras' victims." After a moment, he added, "She's the only reason I'm alive now. She knew the eruption was coming and warned me... ."
Dan shut his eyes.
Charlie added with a growl, "Look, let me get my kid. Then let's get the hell out of here. If that's all right with you?"
Dan turned his head to see a child huddled on the beach sand. He hadn't even noticed. Evidently, neither had McKee, from the surprise in his eyes. Charlie picked up a little girl who couldn't have been a year old and carried her back toward the truck. Her hair, in the glow of the headlights, was a bright red-gold. Her eyes were wide and scared. Charlie hugged her close.
"If it hadn't been for Lucky, here, I'd have stayed and kept looking," Charlie said quietly.
Dan didn't know what to say. McKee holstered the pistol. "Letting yourself be killed never stops the enemy, Charlie. They just keep on killing as long as civilized pansies let them."
The look Charlie shot McKee was dark and deadly. "Watch your mouth, McKee."
The lunatic held his gaze. "You know I'm right."
"So how do we find Carreras?" Charlie asked. His voice was anything but civilized.
The naked brutality in Charlie's eyes shook Dan to the core. Clearly, there were several forms of hell worse than the one he'd been living.
"Get into the truck," Dan said quietly. "This'll take about ten, fifteen minutes."
Another time storm was already beginning to rumble when Collins suggested quietly, "Why don't you go around back, Charlie, and salvage some clothes? Boots, socks, parka, and all. It's going to be colder than a—" Collins glanced at the wide-eyed little girl watching him and said, instead, "It's going to cold if we get where we're trying to go. Bundle up the kid, too."
Charlie nodded. He was grateful neither man followed him. Lucania drooped across his shoulder, watching Collins and McKee and even the truck with curiosity.
Modern clothing felt unbelievably alien. The combat boots were a little snug, but not bad. The trousers felt oddest of all. He twisted his lips in a wry grimace. It'd taken months to get used to going without them. Now they felt weird. He shook his head and finished getting dressed, then snagged both parkas. He bundled up Lucania in one of them, tying the sleeves shut around her. Then he swung the truck tailgate shut. Collins and McKee were staring out at the triremes.
"It's still hard to believe," McKee was saying. "a.d. 79..."
"Be thankful you didn't wake up here in chains," Charlie growled. "It's not an experience I'd recommend."
"Where did you injure that leg?" McKee asked quietly.
"In the arena," he answered shortly. His whole manner said, "Topic is off limits."
Collins shivered and looked ill.
Collins, Charlie pegged as a bureaucrat. Good at his job, probably, or Carreras wouldn't have bothered to keep him. But not exactly a line officer. McKee... McKee looked like he might possibly understand some of what Charlie had been through. More than time was etched into that craggy face.
Neither man pressed him for details. They divvied up the weapons between them, then stood beside the truck and watched the time storm brew. The short hairs on the back of Charlie's neck prickled. He understood, now, why Sibyl had been so unnerved by sight of the time storm. He squeezed shut his eyes. Sibyl...
At least his daughter was safe. As safe as he could make her. Was he doing the right thing, risking her life going after Carreras? Stupid question. Would you rather keep her here, to grow up as a slave? When lightning began crackling down into the beach sand, Collins said, "Let's be ready for it, shall we?"