Saving Yesterday (TimeShifters Book 1) (2 page)

“Gabby!” Porter’s deep voice makes my stomach drop. I thought only Emma would be here. Not that Porter doesn’t have every right to be. But after my dad’s strange behavior, I’m suddenly on edge.

Porter stands up and waves from the picnic table near the small sledding hill. I make my way over to him. The summer sun has already begun to bleach his hair blond. He greets me with his easy smile, his green eyes dancing. Most of the girls consider him handsome, and I can’t argue with their assessment. His years playing forward on the soccer field have kept him in top shape and assured him a full ride for college. But when I look at him, he’s just the kid who buried a time capsule with me. The one I used to race on dirt bikes.

I drop my bag onto the splintering wood of the picnic table. “Why are you here?”

He crosses his arms and makes a
tsk-tsk
sound with his tongue. “What? Not happy to see me?”

I shrug. “Emma told me to meet her here.”

“Because I told Emma to tell you to meet us both here. She’ll be another ten minutes or so.” Porter laughs. “Who am I kidding? Knowing Emma, we have another half hour before she gets here.”

“At least she’s predictable. Unlike you, might I add.” I break into a grin. It’s hard not to smile around Porter.

Fingers looped in his front pockets, he takes a step toward me. “But it works out well, because I wanted some time just for us.”

I back against the table, and the wooden bench nettles into my legs. “For us, huh?”

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Gabs. Tell me, how are you doing? Really?”

Right. Not only is Porter attractive, but he has a second superhero trait. He sees straight through a sham and calls it like it is. A characteristic I often hate about him.

“I’m fine.” Suddenly the button on the bottom of my shirt has become the most interesting thing in the world.

He tucks my bangs behind my ear. “Are you thinking about your mom? It’s probably hard, on days like today.”

I brush his hand away, casually, so I don’t offend him. “What’s to miss? I didn’t even know her. My dad on the other hand—he acts like the accident happened yesterday.”

“It’s okay to wish she was here.” He squeezes my elbow.

“I honestly miss my dad more than her. Is that terrible?” I search Porter’s eyes for understanding. “It’s like I lost them both that day.” I scoot so I’m sitting on the tabletop.

“He tries.”

“I know.”

Porter takes a seat on the table next to me, and our knees and shoulders touch. “Okay, enough of that. I don’t want to bring you down. It’s not every day you turn seventeen. Got big plans today?”

“Just doing stuff with Dad.” My phone in my back pocket is uncomfortable, so I pull it out and lay the thing next to my purse.

“Can you ditch him and spend the day with Emma and me instead?”

I knock my knee into his. “I really want to, but you know how he is. I couldn’t do that to him.”

“Well, anyway.” He jabs his elbow into my ribs. “I have something for you.”

“You didn’t have to.”

But Porter’s already pulling a little wrapped present from his cargo pocket. He slips it into my hands. “It’s not much, Gabs, but happy birthday.”

The moment the words
happy birthday
escape Porter’s lips, chills race over my arm. Goose bumps erupt on my flesh.

A metal bracelet materializes on my right wrist. Out of nowhere, it just … appears. It bites into my soft skin, much too tight.

I shake my wrist. “Get it off!”

Porter tries to stand, to help me, but it’s like something has him immobilized.

The ends of the bracelet merge and fuse, and the metal starts to heat. I jump to the ground and paw at the thing. But then there’s a flash of light like an electrical zap.

The gift clatters out of my hand, onto the concrete.

At the same moment I feel like my feet are yanked out from under me.  The air seems to press in from every angle, as if space has become too small to fit my body. Wind rushes past my ears.

Horror etches itself into the lines around Porter’s gaping mouth. He’s finally able to reach for me, but it’s as if I’m not there. His hand grabs at air.

“You’re fading! What’s—?”

I can tell he’s yelling. Even though we’re only a few feet from each other, he sounds like he’s calling from half a mile away.

Porter disappears.

The park too.

I’m falling, but I’m not moving. I hear something whisk by my head, but there is only darkness. I try to scream, to move, but my muscles freeze.

Then—the sensation stops.

I land on my hands and knees in a mud puddle. Sputtering, I hunch back and a wave of nausea rocks through me, the same panicky feeling that surges through you at the precipice of a roller coaster. I swallow the acidic tide rushing up my throat and blink to clear my vision. With a deep breath, I push my braid onto my back. My body starts to shake.

The air is still. I squint, trying to identify the buildings in the distance. A small town? This sure doesn’t look like my neighborhood. Where
am
I?

Darkness closes in on me. Coldness from the dirt beneath my palms seeps into my bones. A distant sound that can only be horses jingling in their harnesses makes me look up. The sky bursts with an eerie amount of stars.

I stare at the sky. Where did all those the stars come from? I’ve never
seen
so many—

And that’s when it hits me.

This is not home.

A man, quick as a spider, crouches down next to me. I didn’t notice him standing behind me when I first landed. Before I can react, he clamps his hand over my wrist.

“Cover your bracelet. You’ll freak people out if they see the metal when it’s like that.” His voice has a kind, lyrical quality.

I jerk my arm away and put space between us. “Don’t touch me.” I burn him with my best glare. “Who are you?”

My eyes lock with his chocolate brown ones and I realize he’s younger than I first thought. Close to my age, maybe a little older, but not much.

When he reaches for me again, I bring my right arm up to make an instinctive shield. I freeze. My gaze fastens to my bracelet. “This. Thing. Is. Glowing. Why is it glowing?” I drop my arm and claw at it again. My heart pounds a staccato rhythm against my rib cage.

At first, I thought this whole stunt might be an elaborate birthday hoax. Porter and Emma are always up to some sort of mischief. But block out the sun? Change the landscape? Even a master prankster can’t pull that off.

The guy shakes his head, a mixture of amusement and pity crossing his face, like he’s watching a puppy trip over its paws.

Then he slips his hand over mine to cover the bracelet again. “It’ll go back to normal soon. I promise.”

I push him away, but cup my hand over the cooling metal.

He cocks his head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Don’t tell me you haven’t done this before?”

I clench my fist. “Done what? What’s going on?”

A groan escapes his lips. “Wow. Seriously? They sent a newbie? Not what I needed on this mission.”

Mission? I scoot back. Hopefully he won’t notice. A casual glance shows an open field and, about two hundred yards away, a small wooded area. If I dart to my feet, I might be able to outrun him. Then what? I harbor no desire to be this guy’s next murder victim, but what’s to say there isn’t something worse lurking in those trees? I need to bide my time, gain my bearings before bolting. I probably only have one chance.

He scans the road, tilting his head to the side. Like a hunter, his ears seem to be listening for something. A silvery wash of moonlight bathes his pale skin, and a shadow forms off his nose. A strong jaw, understanding eyes, mocha hair in disarray, full cheeks, curious quirk of his eyebrow—his features are boyish. As he bends forward, I sense power despite his lean build. He’s handsome, in a unique way. Not overtly, like Porter.

He turns his head a little more and whispers. “Listen. They’re coming. Follow me.”

My mind races through all I learned in the self-defense classes Dad forced me to attend. Make a peace sign and plunge fingers into both eyes? That would be sick. Not to mention a shame, since he does have nice eyes. Palm to the nose? No. That maneuver might kill him. I don’t want to harm him. Just get him to stop touching me and then point me toward the closest one-way bus out of this nightmare.

Besides, I’m not a fighter. Avoidance always seems the best and easier route.

Before all the money spent on self-defense can come in handy, he drags me to my feet, then shoves at my back, propelling me forward. I stumble over ruts in the pebble-strewn dirt road. But the stranger wraps his arm around me, catching me each time I falter. 

Add strong-arming me to his list of offenses.

To my left, a bird of prey releases a foreboding cry as something scuttles through the long grass. A mess of bats circle near the tree-lined area. Country-sweet air surges through my lips as I let out an agitated huff.

I turn and land a firm kick to my captor’s shin. “I’m
not
kidding. Let me go!”

In less than a heartbeat, he covers my mouth. His hand smells like sweat and gardening. He growls in a don’t-mess-with-me tone as his lips brush against my ear. “Unless you want to get us killed more than a hundred years before either of us are even born, I’d be quiet.”

What sort of messed-up nightmare is this? I shiver. For a second he pulls me closer against his chest, which, to my horror, is surprisingly solid. I arch my body, trying to wiggle away. Unsuccessful. He’s stronger than I thought. My heart plummets. Scratch any escape plan. His gaze trains back on the road. Then, as if he’s forgotten about me, he releases his hold.

I swipe at my mouth to banish the taste of him, glowering in his general direction. “A hundred years? Before I’m born? Are you on drugs or something?”

A snap of a boot crushing a twig not far off brings my unwanted companion to a crouch. He grabs my arm and hauls me down beside him. “Listen. The men coming are dangerous. I know you’re more confused than a blind dog in a new home, but you need to trust me. If you draw attention to us, it’s not just our lives you jeopardize. Everything that’s happening right now is so much bigger than your fear.”

As he talks, I don’t even look his way. Probably all lies anyway.

We hunker in the long, itchy grass at the edge of the road.

 Scooting closer, he drops his voice to a whisper. “I know it sounds crazy. Believe me. I had a hard time at first, too. And I was prepared. If you promise to be silent when these men pass in a second, I’ll answer your questions. Deal?”

I gauge the distance to the trees. Can I make it there quick enough? And once I get there, then what do I do? Shimmy up a tree? For all I know, he’s a skilled climber. That, or he has an arsenal of axes stashed somewhere and will have no qualms about chopping a tree down to get me.

When I don’t answer, he drapes his arm over my back. I’m sure he means the gesture to feel casual, but the pressure he’s adding holds a threat:
Do not get up or else.

“I don’t really have much of a choice, do I? I’m stuck here with you.” I speak out of the side of my mouth. He doesn’t deserve eye contact.

We lie there, waiting. My abdomen pinches against a large rock on the ground. As if I need additional discomfort in the midst of this whole mess.

How many minutes have passed since I left? Poor Porter, he probably called the cops and has them sweeping the park for clues. Soon, Dad will be at Molly’s Diner, crunching his baseball hat in his hands as he waits for me. Like a string of ants, terror skitters down my spine. Not for myself, but for Dad. He won’t be able to handle life if I go missing. What will he do when I don’t arrive? Who will buy dish soap for him tomorrow? I have to get back home, wherever it is from here—for him. To make it out of this situation intact, I must weigh my options. Do nothing rash.

My captor removes his hand from my back, and then he presses a finger to his lips. Footfalls on the road announce proximity. He leans closer to me. “I’m Michael, by the way. Michael Pace.”

A group of four men approaches. I don’t have the best vision to begin with, so I squint. At least I’ve been here long enough for my eyes to adjust to the dark. The first three men wear matching gray uniforms. They look familiar, like I’ve seen the outfit in a book or museum before. Through the dim of night, I can make out that their coats almost reach their knees and they are wearing funny matching hats. Not quite fashionable, but hey, to each his own. Their tall boots are well polished, catching glints of moonbeams. Even the double rows of buttons down their chests glint despite the darkness.

The fourth man is dressed differently, in a drab, single-colored suit and funny tight hat. It resembles a hat I saw once in an old Charlie Chaplin movie one of my teachers forced the class to watch.  

Now might be my chance. If I scream, the men will hear me. Even if Michael tries to drag me away, at least there will be witnesses. I swallow, getting ready. But Michael must sense my thoughts, because in a swift move he covers my mouth and his other arm yanks me snug against his side.