Authors: Bob Atkinson
Jamie asked the dreaded question: “How about
England? They didn’t win it again, did they?”
“I don’t think so fellas…”
“And Scotland?”
The American shook his head, an amused smile on
his face.
“Eight years ago?” asked Andy. “Why was the last
World Cup eight years ago?”
The smile faded from Sam’s face. “Y’gotta
understand, guys, things were ’bout as bad as they could get. Since twenty
twenty everything had started to go all to hell.”
“The World Cup was cancelled,” Jamie reflected
in horror.
“That nuclear explosion we saw, right at the
end,” Andy said quietly. “We weren’t seeing five thousand years into the
future. We were seeing your world Sam, weren’t we?”
The American saw the raw emotion in the
soldier’s face and decided the less he knew the better. “Hell, I dunno. There
was famine throughout Africa and Asia. The U.S. was accused of hoarding food;
maybe something escalated from there. Shawnee and me saw as much as you guys
did.”
“It doesn’t really matter,” Jamie put in. “Ah
mean, there’s no going back, is there? Even if there was something tae go back
tae, it’s never gonnae happen.”
“Y’can’t say that for sure. Whatever chain of
events brought us all here could work in reverse.”
Jamie nodded towards the fourth member of the
group, who’d drifted off into a world of his own. His voice fell to a whisper:
“Ah used tae spend ma summers up here when Ah
was a kid. This glen was out of bounds, big style. They used tae frighten us
with the story of these two brothers who disappeared in nineteen sixteen, only
a week after their old man was found dead in the glen.”
Sam and Andy looked at Colin.
“Y’mean he’s one of the brothers?”
“Aye, d’ye understand but; they were never seen
again. And if
they
were never seen again…”
“…We’re no’ gonnae be seen again either.”
Jamie continued softly: “Seeing that wee guy
sitting there is like finding Glenn Miller in a dinghy in the middle of the
English Channel…”
Colin became aware that all eyes were focused on
him. “What’s wrong? Why are you all staring at me?”
“Colin, what year is it?” Sam asked.
“Seventeen hundred and forty-six.”
“No, I mean what year was it before y’came
here?”
“You mean back in the real world? It was nineteen
sixteen.”
The American nodded. “Did y’leave any family
behind?”
“Alistair and myself had walked to the head of
the glen to build a cairn to our father.” Colin sighed wretchedly. “It was only
last week himself died up there. Now I’m told my house is a ruin and the world
has been at war for over thirty years. I just don’t understand what’s going on
at all.”
“You ’n me both, buddy,” Sam murmured softly.
In the far distance, on the southern slopes of
the glen, three figures came into view as they descended
Meall Banabhie
.
The sun’s rays highlighted the tartan plaid worn by the middle figure.
“Achnacon,” said Andy.
“Aye, with Laurel and Hardy,” added Jamie.
“What the hell were those two bampots doing away
up there?”
“Maybe your guys were trying to make a break for
it?” suggested Sam.
“He should’ve let them go,” Andy grumbled. “Best
we don’t mention this thing with the dates. We don’t know how they’ll react.”
When they reached the cottage the two errant
soldiers were in a high state of excitement.
“It’s just amazing, man. Ye can see Fort
William, and everything frae the top of that hill!” Rae exclaimed.
“Only, it isn’t Fort William,” Ferguson added,
“it’s like some kindae castle where Fort William used tae be.”
“Aw you great tumchie that ye are,” said Rae. “Ah’ve
already told ye; that
is
Fort William. That’s what the town was named
after!”
“Aw, right. It’s pure brilliant though. Ye can
see these big boats, with sails and masts and everything, just like in the old
pirate filums.
“T’would be best for now, young Andy, if your
men stayed off the hills,” said Achnacon.
“Sorry about that again, like,” Rae mumbled. He
glanced at his Corporal. “We wanted tae see if it’s just the glen, or if
everywhere has changed.”
Andy glowered at his two runaways. “Well, now ye
know.”
Achnacon turned to the American. “The daughter
of my cousin, Ewen of Inverlaragain, has told how the attack on my people was
halted, because of yourself and your lady.” He clasped Sam’s hand. “Rhona said
you was punished for your courage. Your wounds will fade in time, but your
courage will never fade from the hearts of my people.”
The American squirmed like a nocturnal creature
caught in headlights. “It’s okay, man. No problem, y’know?”
Andy smiled at the American’s discomfort. He
turned to the old Highlander. “What happens now? Is there anything we can do?”
The warmth faded from Achnacon’s eyes. “I have
posted lookouts at both ends of the glen, and on the top of
Meall Banabhie
.
Young Ewen and Lachlan has been despatched to Locheil to advise him of developments.
On the morrow those who survived the English attack must lay their kinfolk to
rest. We dare not wait longer lest we have unwelcome guests at the funeral. I
must carry this news to the shielings before nightfall so the people may return
to their homes. One of your men may wish to accompany myself…
Muirshearlach
,
perhaps?”
“If that’s okay with you, Corp?” said Jamie.
Andy nodded. “Take yer rifle just in case.”
The Highlander’s eyes lit up as Macsorley
reappeared, his webbing draped over his plaid, his rifle clutched in his right
hand.
“Perhaps Achnacon may be permitted to carry the
musket of Muirshearlach?” he asked lightly.
Jamie whispered at his N.C.O. “You know he’s
gonnae torment me, don’t ye? Ah’m gonnae have tae tell him something.”
Andy nodded. “Play it by ear. Let him know as
little as ye have tae.”
The young soldier removed the magazine before
handing the rifle to Achnacon. The old clansman turned the weapon this way and
that, an expression of bright wonder on his face.
Andy could hear the subtle start of the
interrogation as the two men set off: “Tell me now, young
Muirshearlach
,
how would myself go about inserting a musket ball in such a fine barrel…?”
Jamie’s reply was lost in the splash of water as
the pair began to cross the Laragain burn.
As soon as they were gone the American turned to
the newcomers.
“Y’haven’t introduced me to the rest of your
guys.”
The N.C.O. glanced warily at Rae. “Aye, right.
This is er, Archie Rae and Willie Ferguson. They usually answer tae Rae and
Fergie.”
“Pleased to meet yuh,” smiled Sam.
“Aye, likewise,” Fergie replied.
Rae grasped the American’s hand with one of his
fleshy paws. “So the Yanks are here, eh? Ah suppose that means we’re all gonnae
have tae duck when the shooting starts…”
Sam’s smile didn’t waver. “Only those with huge
asses.”
Rae nodded sharply. The pleasantries over, he
turned to his friend.
“C’mon, Fergie, Ah’m starving. Let’s see if
there’s any grub on offer.”
As the pair were about to disappear into the
cottage the door opened and Shawnee emerged, blinking in the daylight. The
transformation in Rae was instantaneous. Once again he held out a huge paw,
this time with an ingratiating smile.
“Hello there. Name’s Archie Rae, Ah’m very
pleased tae make yer acquaintance.”
“Ah’m William Ferguson,” his comrade mumbled
behind him.
Shawnee swept the hair from her face, and smiled
at both in turn. “Hi. I’m Shawnee. Nice to meet you guys.”
“Shawnee?” Rae mused. “Is that no’ an Injun
name? You don’t look anything like an Injun. Yer far too bonny for that.”
She studied his overfed form, his great fleshy
hand still wrapped around hers. “Rae, huh?” she replied, with a disarming
smile. “Yeah, well, you don’t look anything like a drop of golden sun…”
Shawnee retained her pleasant smile, while all
around her hooted with laughter. Fergie hooted loudest of all.
“Drop of golden sun; that’s a stoater. Ah must
remember that one…”
“Ah sharrup, ya mutant,” growled Rae. With a
swipe of his paw he pushed Ferguson towards the cottage.
Shawnee made her way directly to Colin. “It
looks like your brother’s fever has broken.”
The young man rose to his feet. “Does that mean
himself is going to be all right?”
“Well, he’s still kinda weak, but he’s conscious
now. He’s asking for you.”
As Colin followed the two soldiers into the
cottage, Shawnee closed her eyes and took a long breath of mountain air. She
was wearing the quilted anorak that Sam had secreted into her backpack; a
little shiver nonetheless shook her body. Instinctively she made for Sam.
“Hello again,” she smiled at Andy.
“Aye, er, how’s it going?” the soldier replied
awkwardly. “Listen, Ah’m, sorry about Darwin’s missing link. If it’s no’ his
stomach it’s his loins.”
Shawnee smiled dismissively. She shivered again,
and burrowed into Sam’s arms. “It’s such a beautiful part of the world, isn’t
it? But it’s gonna take some getting used to; the temperature, I mean.”
“Aye, Ah suppose Scotland’s a bit of a shock tae
the system, compared tae America.”
“Yeah, it is now, that’s for sure. But back in,
ah… well, back home I guess, things had changed terribly those last few years.
You wouldn’t have recognised the Scotland of our day. Didn’t Sam tell you
anything? I suppose all he’s done is talk about The Dodgers.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose sharply. “Didn’t get the
chance; they only wanted to know about soccer. Anyway, how did y’know they
weren’t from our time?”
She shook her head in mock disgust. “How could
y’not know? I mean, there’s Colin’s clothes, the way these guys speak; I
figured straightaway we’d all been taken from different times. I knew for
certain when Colin’s brother began talking in his fever about the Western
Front.”
Sam nodded. “You remember that cairn we saw at
the top of the glen?”
“The cairn that commemorated the massacre?”
“Yeah, seems it was erected by Colin and his
brother the day they disappeared, as a memorial to their father.”
Shawnee shook her head in wonder. “D’you
remember how weather beaten that cairn was? It musta been more than a hundred
years old. This whole thing is totally awesome.”
“That’s one word for it,” murmured Sam.
“What about you, Andy?” she asked brightly.
“What year was it when you were, y’know… taken?”
Andy glanced furtively at Shawnee, then directed
his reply at Sam: “Nineteen seventy-six. The lads and me were training recruits
for service in Northern Ireland.”
“That gunfire we heard yesterday; that was you
and your guys?”
“Aye, sorry about that,” mumbled Andy.
Shawnee smiled. “Y’make it sound like you kept
us awake, or something. Rhona, the girl we arrived with, she got talking to
your friend; Ak na…”
“Achnacon?”
“
Aknak
…
Achnacon
. Seems the stand
you took allowed a lotta people to get away. Seems Andy Macmillan is quite a
hero around here.”
Andy pulled at his nose. “Aye, well, he said
much the same about you two.”
“That’s true,” said Sam. He could see the
soldier was uncomfortable in Shawnee’s presence. He was used to the different
ways in which men would respond to their attraction to her. She, as always,
would sail serenely on; apparently unaware of the effect she had on the male
gender.
“You met this guy: Achnacon?” she said to Sam.
“Yeah, he was here earlier. Took one of Andy’s
guys away with him. Said they were gonna get the people down from the hills for
the funerals tomorrow.”
“What’s he like?”
“Well, y’know how it is; if you’ve seen one
eighteenth-century Scottish Highlander then I guess you’ve seen ’em all.”
Shawnee turned to Macmillan. “I’ll get more
sense outta you, Andy.”
Macmillan picked at a piece of bracken that was
stuck to his kilt. “Ah suppose he’s no’ what you’d expect a Highland clansman tae
look like. Ah know he’s old and everything, but Ah still expected all
Highlanders tae be over six-feet tall; built like wrestlers. But this guy,
Achnacon, cannae be much more than five feet four. But there’s… something about
him…”
“How d’you mean?” she asked.
Andy’s kilt was finally free of all
imperfections. He glanced briefly at Shawnee. “It’s like, when we first met him
he was just an old guy in a kilt; but now, he looks like he could handle
anything.”