Praetorian Series [3] A Hunter and His Legion (6 page)

She pulled away and kissed my nose before
gazing softly at me.

“Feel better?”  She asked.

“You always did know how to cheer me up,” I answered.  “Even if it’s doing something as simple as taking my mind off of a time traveling blue ball that also has the power to warp people’s minds and turn them into raving…”

She interrupted me by lowering herself beside me on my good side and moving her hand to unbuckle my belt. 
She looked at me as she worked, her eyes filled with annoyance, but she didn’t stop what she was doing. 

I lowered my head back agai
nst my pillow and smiled.   “Never mind.  I’ll just shut up now.  Keep doing what you’re doing.”

II

Para
doxes

Outskirts of Damascus, Syria,

October, 42 A.D.

I woke the next morning as hap
py as I’d felt in a long time.

The last time Helena and I had shared such intimacy
without
the world crashing down around us in one form or another had been that one wonderful night in Byzantium when we’d settled our differences and I’d given her an apology gift in the form of a necklace.  Helena liked to think that had been the moment when we’d conceived our child as well, but she wasn’t quite sure.  We’d had a few other opportunities to succeed at such a thing since then, but Helena, unlike me, had a bit of a romantic streak in her.

I stretched out my arms around my head and extended my right arm to pull Helena in close, but all it met was air.  I opened m
y eyes and noticed she was gone, and tried to think of where she could possibly be, but then I remembered she had LP/OP duty from six to one today.  I glanced at my watch and noticed with wide eyes that it was almost noon.  I bolted upright as quickly as my damaged flank would allow me and got dressed.

I found my favorite pair of smiley faced boxer shorts
first and gave them a quick sniff.  They smelled fine enough, so I slipped them on before retrieving my mulitcam patterned combat fatigues and stepped into those as well.  Lastly, I clipped on my web belt that held my pistol’s thigh holster and secured that around my leg.  Deciding I didn’t really need a shirt, and since I couldn’t immediately see one anyway, I retrieved my pistol, slipped it into place, and stepped out into the late morning sun.

It was a hot morning, and the sun glared
brilliantly from high above.  I held out an arm to shield my eyes as I allowed them to grow accustomed to its intensity, and reached into a pants pocket in the hope that I’d left my glacier style sunglasses, complete with side shields, there.  As luck would have it, I had, and I slipped them on and surveyed the camp.  Most everyone seemed out and about and doing something, although Santino was missing, probably still asleep after his late night/early morning QRF duty, and Bordeaux and Madrina were missing as well.  I noticed Helena off to my right, a few dozen meters away from our horseshoe shaped camp, situated atop a small hill.  She had a pair of binoculars fixed to her eyes as she glassed the horizon, her DSR-1 sniper rifle lying across her body in her lap.

She seemed focused so I didn’t bother her, and made my way to the center of the camp and its central fire.  Arrayed around it
were Vincent, Titus, Patricia Martin, TJ Stryker, Gaius, Marcus, Archer, and Artie.  Georgia Brewster, who was rarely seen in Stryker’s company, was laying out on a blanket near her tent, Alex Cuyler was on QRF duty, and Wang was off to the side, cleaning his medical equipment.

My stomach grumbled as I inspected our camp, so
I made my way toward the fire in the hope of finding food.  I took a seat next to Vincent and he patted my shoulder warmly in greeting with his remaining hand.  His left arm from the elbow down had been lost during the Battle for Rome over four years ago, but he’d never lamented its loss nor acted like he deserved sympathy.  He’d simply adapted and grown accustomed to his limited mobility and moved on.

I nodded in greeting and offered his stepson a nod as well.

“How’s the leg, Titus?”  I asked him.

He looked down at his right leg and placed his hand upon the large cast that encased it.

“I feel it healing, Jacob Hunter,” he replied and I ground my teeth at his continued use of my first and last name.  “And Wang says he will remove the cast in perhaps a month.”

I looked at the young man’s cast and smiled at its appearanc
e.  Just like in junior high, it had a number of drawings and messages scrawled all over it.  Artie had been the first to contribute, and I thought back to yesterday morning as she’d leaned in and wrote a quick get well message, signing it with her nickname and little “X’s” and “O’s” like any teenager would do.  When she was finished, she’d noticed my curious inspection of her display and asked me, “What?  They didn’t do this in your timeline?”

I’d shaken my head in surprise at the comment, not really paying attention to her words, but the meaning behind
them instead.  Obviously, school children had done exactly the same thing in my timeline, just another reminder that while our timelines were obviously very, very different, there were still peculiar similarities that didn’t make sense.  I had no idea how the course of history could diverge so clearly, but still leave it almost exactly the same and completely different all at the same time.

I’d ignored Artie’s question at the time, playing it off by taking her pen and leaving my own
contribution to Titus’ cast, and over the course of the day, everyone else had added their own sentiments as well.  Helena had colored her lips with some local lip coloring she’d picked up at one point and left a kiss below her message, while Santino had cheerfully drawn the one thing every young boy loved to draw on another boy’s stuff: male genitalia – for whatever reason. 

I sighed
as I noticed the drawing, remembering the time back in high school when a friend had drawn one on my backpack without me knowing, causing me to receive a demerit because
obviously
I’d draw the thing myself on my own backpack for every single teacher to see…

I’d gotten him back though.

Santino’s smut notwithstanding, the gesture had helped break the ice between the two teams and offered some lightheartedness before the reality of our situation set in.  While the bonding experience had left Titus’ cast covered in color and words, the sight of it brought back that original curiosity and misunderstanding concerning our two timelines, and how we’d apparently fucked it up, as Archer had so eloquently stated upon our first meeting.

I glanced up at Artie
now, a question on my tongue, when I felt something hard poke against my arm.  I looked over and noticed Marcus prodding me with a plate containing steaming pieces of meat, and finally noticed the animal skewered upon a spit that must have been recently taken off the fire.

I reached out and took it, picking up a piece of meat with my fingers to inspect it.

“What mystery meat is it this time?”  I asked the Roman.

“Antelope
,” he reported.  “Helena killed it this morning.”

I glanced at her,
seeing that she dutifully sat with the binoculars still fixed to her eyes, and smiled.

“Sounds good to me,” I answered, having
no problem with the less than normal meal.  I popped the stringy but juicy morsel into my mouth and started chewing.  I swallowed and felt my stomach immediately settle, and I sighed contentedly as Vincent passed me a small loaf of bread.  I tossed another piece of meat into my mouth and savored its warm, flavorful texture before swallowing it down.

“Feel better, Hunter?”  Archer ask
ed mockingly.

I turned and offered him a momentary look before turning aw
ay, doing my best to appear unfazed by his tone.  I leaned my head back and closed my eyes as I tore off a piece of bread with my teeth, and chewed.

“Indubitably, my dear Watson,” I replied with a smile.  When I noticed Stryker and Martin trade questioning glances, I decided to
return my attention back to Archer.  “What?  They don’t have Sherlock Holmes in your timeline?”

The man stared at me angrily.

“Apparently not,” I said with the flick of my eyebrows.

“
Obviously
not,” Archer clarified.  “I told you before that you fucked things up!  We’re wasting time here.  We need to start figuring out where things went wrong and how we can fix them.”

“Have patience,” Vincent said,
punching his open hand in a downward motion.  “Time, believe it or not, is on our side now.”

I gave Vincent’s shoulder a pat in appreciation before speaking
.  “If only it were as easy as you think, Paul.  I’ve been trying to figure this shit out for years.  A few conversations over breakfast isn’t going to help you.”

“No, but
it’s a good place to start,” he countered.  “My team and I volunteered for this mission knowing it might be a one way trip, knowing that we may be here for a
very
long time,
knowing
that fixing the timeline may mean we’ll be unable to return to our home at all, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to simply waste my time while you get your shit together because you can’t get a handle on your emotions!”

I shot to my feet and he joined me, and I got ready
to throw my metal plate at his face, but Artie also stood and placed herself directly between us.

“Stop it!”  She ordered with upraised arms
.  “Bickering isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

She had a point, but my anger wasn’t diminishing at her words.  I felt my arm starting to raise the plate on its own, but Vincent
lifted his hand to push it down, enticing me to sit as well.

“Take a seat, Lieutenant Hunter,” he ordered.

My anger subsided at his words, and I slowly sat with a nod of thanks to the older man, but I wasn’t placated completely.  I could never trust Archer, not after what he’d done to Artie, and warning bells were going off in my mind not to start now.  There was something off about him, something that suggested he was keeping things from me, only I didn’t know what.

Archer sat as well, but Artie remained standing.  She stared down at Archer intently, but he refused to meet
her eyes, so she turned back to me.

“Archer
isn’t wrong, Jacob,” she said.  “We did come here for a reason.  We need to talk and get our stories straight.  All we really know about what happened here was recorded in your journal, but that wasn’t much to go on.”

I shrugged noncommittally.  “Fine.  I’m all ears
then.”

She rolled her eyes.  “It can wait
until tonight after everyone’s settled down.  Besides, I think Helena and John will want to be a part of the conversation as well.”

I blinked at the name
John
, realizing a few seconds later that she’d meant Santino.

Great…

“Fine,” I said.  “What did you have in mind then?”

She glanced around as she tried to think, before her eyes caught something off to her right.  “What’s that city over there again?”

“Damascus,” I answered.

Everyone present craned their heads to look, seeing the small city of Damascus a few
miles away at the bottom of a shallow mountain.  The city was very old, with clearly Roman influences, but it wasn’t large, and I knew that it had been completely rebuilt a number of times before the 21st century rolled around. 

At least it had in my timeline.

To my right I heard Stryker and Martin mutter obscenities under their breath, and Artie looked almost shocked at the name as she continued to hold her hand out in the city’s direction.

“What?”  I asked.

Archer leaned in and spoke.  “Damascus is the capital of one of the most powerful caliphate empires in the Middle East.  Just last year they were responsible for the destruction of Paris.”

I blinked at his words, understanding every single one of them but not the context in which they were
said.  I glanced at Vincent and he looked back at me, his eyes indicating he was just as surprised as I was.

“I concur that it’s time to talk
then,” Vincent said, and I found myself agreeing wholeheartedly.

After a few moments,
Artie finally regained her composure. “I think we could all use a break from this camp anyway.  I, for one, am not used to so much camping, and I’d like to explore a little, even if it’s…
that
place.  I think a group of us should head down there this evening so that we can talk.  How’s that sound?”

I glanced off
toward Damascus again and sighed.  The only reason we’d decided to camp so far away was because we were worried about being discovered by Agrippina’s Praetorian ninjas, but we’d been off their radar for days, so in all likelihood, the ninjas either hadn’t even come to Damascus or had already inspected it and left.

We could take the chance.