Wang, Vincent, the Romans, the new time travelers, and Santino stood near a bombed out corner of the building, open to the rest of the world. They were all looking through the hole, past the knocked over perimeter wall, towards the north. Those who had optical devices had them trained outside, while Santino turned to face me, anything but a happy expression on his face.
“Now’s not the time, Hunter,” he said. “Although, I do feel obligated to mention that Hunter and Archer are eerily similar names.”
I looked at my former friend, and watched him roll his eyes, mumbling under his breath.
“So, what’s the problem?”
“The problem?” Santino repeated angrily. “Just look out the fucking window.”
I held my gaze on him for a few seconds before slowly shifting my look in the general direction of his outstretched arm. What I saw stopped me in my tracks.
Laid out before us were men. Soldiers. Legionnaires. Praetorians. Thousands of them.
Aw, shit.
My mind started processing the information as quickly as it could, which wasn’t anywhere near efficient enough. Even with Archer’s reinforcements and additional supplies, we wouldn’t be able to put up a suitable defense. Those of us who’d been in Rome more than thirty minutes were weary after the close call we’d had with Agrippina and it was amazing how much traveling through the orb weakened a person. Archer’s men weren’t showing signs of fatigue yet, but having been there, I knew it was only a matter of time.
I turned to look at Archer. “Just how many chapters were in my journal, anyway?”
He met my eyes. “Twelve. Why?”
“Because I’ve already written eleven… and I’m suddenly feeling the urge to write another.”
Archer motioned for his men to fall in. “Get ready to move out!” He shouted. “Get the crates and the body bag, but be prepared to stop and offer cover fire. We’re heading south.”
I swore under my breath. I didn’t need to offer any orders to my people. They were too used to this kind of situation. The two sets of Tweetledees and Tweetledums moved to help the new arrivals with the cargo containers. Each were a little smaller than our original containers, but something told me they wouldn’t even stop a spear, let alone grenades. Finally, Vincent helped Titus on his crushed leg, while Bordeaux picked up Madrina, who was still out cold.
Meanwhile, Helena and Artie stuck close to me as we gathered up whatever gear we could find. Luckily, our camp was south of this shithole of a building, so we’d be able to recover the rest of our gear, whatever little we had left.
I tentatively strapped Penelope around my shoulder, while I tossed my bag to Helena. I couldn’t hang on to the heavy rucksack with my arm in a sling, or with the pain in my side. She helpfully accepted it, along with her own, checking her last P90 magazine for ammo. I could see through the clear plastic magazine she only had a dozen or so rounds left.
I found my rig and slipped it on, keeping it unattached on my bad side. I clipped my pistol holster to my thigh and felt like a complete man once again. I pulled out my Sig, checked that it was loaded, and felt exponentially better knowing I at least had my sidearm to fall back on.
I caught Archer’s men already blazing a path through the blown out corner of the room, immediately turning south to avoid the approaching horde. Our best bet was to get back to Vespasian, even though we were coming back empty handed. I rushed to catch up to Archer on the way out.
“I need to know something, Archer. Something that doesn’t make much sense on your end.”
“And what’s that, Hunter?” He asked pretentiously.
I almost stumbled at his tone. It suggested dismissal on my part, almost as if I were in his way, or that we were on a need to know basis, and I didn’t need to know.
I let it pass. “What exactly are you doing here?”
He looked at me as we ran, his expression all of a sudden very angry. “We’re here because your journal’s final entry had a lot to say. The President was very interested. We’re here because somewhere along the way, something goes seriously wrong.”
“So?” I replied. “You were in your own timeline before you left, and you seem exactly as I remember. It can’t be that bad.”
“That’s the problem, Hunter. It is that bad. We’re here because you fucked up beyond measure, and you need to fix it.” He threw me a cocky grin. “And we’re here to help.”