Indiana Belle (American Journey Book 3) (30 page)

That is where the similarities ended. Cameron needed only seconds to determine that the storm cellar had propelled him to a different time. He did not see a Model T or the remains of a foundation. Nor did he see a water pump, a fence, or any other evidence of human habitation.

"Does this place look different?" Cameron asked.

"It does," Candice said. "It's a little unnerving."

"Welcome to time travel."

"What do we do now? We don't have the car."

"We walk—"

Cameron stopped speaking when he heard and then saw a train approach from the north, round a bend in front of him, and then head southeast toward Evansville at a speed of at least a hundred miles per hour. It had entered and left his field of vision in less than ten seconds.

"
What
was that?" Candice asked.

Cameron took a breath.

"I think it was a train."

"I've never seen a train like that," Candice said.

"Neither have I."

"Never?"

Cameron shook his head.

"I haven't seen a train like that in a
movie
."

"Are you sure we're in 2000?" Candice asked.

"I'm not sure of anything. Let's get a closer look at the tracks."

"All right."

Cameron tightened his hold on Candice's hand and walked down the dirt road, past more cornfields, toward a site a quarter mile away. They reached the site, a narrow clearing, and two exotic sets of tracks about five minutes later.

"Something's wrong," Cameron said.

"What?" Candice asked.

"I've never seen train tracks like these. These look like roller-coaster tracks."

"This isn't a roller coaster."

"No," Cameron said. "It's not. I'm not sure what it is."

"What should we do?"

Cameron took a moment to consider their options. They could cross the elevated tracks and risk electric shock, return to the cellar, or follow a paved road that ran parallel to the tracks.

"It depends," Cameron said. "Do you want to go back or explore?"

"I want to explore," Candice said.

"Then let's follow this road."

"Do you know where it leads?"

Cameron chuckled.

"I should ask
you
that. You live here."

"I
used
to live here. Or at least I think I did," Candice said. "I don't recognize any of this. I don't remember this road and certainly not these rails."

"Neither do I. Let's go."

"Which direction?"

Cameron looked at the sun, noted its location, and concluded that they had eight to ten hours before nightfall. That was more than enough time to get into trouble.

"Let's go right," Cameron said. "I'm pretty sure these tracks go to Evansville. If we walk far enough, we'll run into something."

"I agree."

Cameron took one last look at the road behind them, the road to 1925, and then led Candice down a road that presumably led to the city he had called home for more than three months.

As the two walked south and then east, along the bend in the tracks, Cameron studied their surroundings and noticed other differences. He saw more trees, fewer buildings, and nothing even remotely resembling a power or telephone line. What evidence he saw of modern technology came in the form of white tracks and white windmills. Giant vanes powered giant turbines three miles away, along the eastern horizon, giving the neighborhood a Netherlands look. The Green Revolution, it seemed, had come to Griffin.

Cameron gave the turbines another glance and then turned to a far more interesting sight, a woman who had said little since leaving the cellar but who surely had things on her mind. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as they approached a large grove of deciduous trees.

"You've been kind of quiet," Cameron said.

"I've just been thinking," Candice replied.

"What about?"

"I think you know."

"It's not going to happen, Candice. I won't let it."

"How can you stop it? Doesn't history repeat itself?"

"It won't this time," Cameron said.

"How can you be so sure?"

Cameron stopped, stepped in front of Candice, and turned to face her. When she met his gaze, he put his hands on her shoulders, and tried to alleviate her fears.

"I can give you two reasons," Cameron said. "The first is that history
hasn't
repeated itself so far. The Candice Bell I read about did not know, much less date, a man named Cameron Coelho. She lived a different life in the spring of 1925 and, for all I know, made different enemies. I may have altered your course the minute I stepped into your house on March 18."

"What's the second reason?" Candice asked.

"That's an easy one. I'm going to watch you like a hawk. I'm going to do everything in my power to protect you from people who might do you harm."

"You can't watch me all the time."

Cameron sighed.

"You're right. I can't. But I can do other things. I can keep an eye on Tom Parker. I can ask the police to watch him. I can also deal with anyone else who might do you harm."

"Are you going to take on Leonard and Richard as well?" Candice asked.

"I will if I have to. I'm not afraid of either one. I will do what I must to protect you. It's what husbands do for their wives."

Candice threw her arms over Cameron's shoulders, leaned forward, and gave her future husband a tender kiss. When she was done demonstrating her affection, she pulled his hands from her shoulders, stepped back, and gazed at him with eyes that revealed relief.

"That's what I needed to hear," Candice said.

Cameron took a breath and smiled.

"Now you know why I want you to at least consider living in 2017. No one knows you there. You haven't made any enemies. You don't even exist."

"There are times I wish I didn't," Candice said.

"You don't mean that."

Candice smiled sadly.

"I guess I don't."

Cameron maintained his gaze until he was sure the storm had passed. He did not know if he could deliver even half of what he had promised, but he would sure as hell try.

"Are you ready to resume our field trip?" he asked.

"Yes," Candice said.

"Then let's go."

Cameron reclaimed her hand, the one in need of a ring, and led her again down the road. He guided her through the grove of trees, past two ponds, and around another bend. He didn't stop again until he reached the top of a ridge, peered into the distance, and saw something he didn't expect and would never forget: a train station from a world he didn't know.

"Oh, my," Cameron said.

"You look surprised," Candice said.

"I am. I've never seen anything like that."

"You mean that's not normal?"

"No. It's not even close."

Cameron led Candice down the hill. He did not stop or speak again until they approached the edge of the property and saw a large sign that provided another shock.

"Do you see what I see?" Cameron asked.

"We're not in 2000," Candice said.

"No. We're not."

Cameron took a moment to evaluate the site. He could relate to some things, like the elevated platforms that flanked the tracks, the overhead bridge that connected the platforms, and the small brick building that probably served as a ticket office. He could
not
relate to a holographic sign below the bridge that disappeared and reappeared every other minute and announced everything from train schedules and weather information to the date of Thursday, June 27, 2041.

"What should we do?" Candice asked.

"I don't know," Cameron said. "I need a minute to think."

Cameron pressed his fingers against his temples as he asked the obvious questions. Had he screwed up? Had he run the wrong numbers or placed the crystals in the wrong order? Had he replaced the fallen crystal too soon or too late? Had he burned the only bridge back to 1925?

Cameron did not know. He knew only that a time machine had sent two people 116 years into the future, which, according to Geoffrey Bell, was as far as it could send anyone. As a result, he now had a decision to make. He could advance or retreat. He turned to his companion.

"What do
you
want to do?" Cameron asked. "Do you want to stay or go back? I'll support you either way. I didn't plan on this."

Candice took a breath, gazed at Cameron, and then glanced at the surrealistic sign, which looked like a prop in a video game. When she looked again at her fiancé, she did so with eyes that revealed not only anxiety and concern but also curiosity and strength.

"Do you see anything, besides the date, that gives you pause?" she asked.

Cameron shook his head.

"No. To tell you the truth, I like what I see. Everything I've seen since we left the farm is modern and welcoming. It's almost utopian."

"It is," Candice said.

Cameron stared at the sign and weighed his options a second time. He thought about what to do until something else caught his eye. A man in white golf attire stepped out of a car in the parking lot – the
only
car in the parking lot – and moved toward the station.

"It looks like we have company," Cameron said.

"Who do you think he is?" Candice asked.

"I don't know. He can't be a passenger. He doesn't have a bag."

"Maybe he works here."

"Maybe."

The man crossed the lot, stepped onto the platform, and walked toward the ticket office, but he did not stop at the office. He did not stop at the men's room either. He instead proceeded to a seating area close to the tracks, claimed a bench, and made himself comfortable.

Cameron turned to Candice.

"Are you feeling sociable?"

Candice smiled.

"Aren't I always?"

Cameron chuckled.

"I guess that was a dumb question."

"Do you want me to talk to him?" Candice asked.

"No. I'll do it. Just be prepared to answer difficult questions if he asks them."

"OK."

Cameron took Candice's hand and led her forward. As they walked slowly toward the site, he again studied his surroundings and noticed a theme. Nearly everything he saw was new or pristine. No graffiti defaced the building. No litter rolled on the ground. Even the garbage cans looked like ornaments. The station was the cleanest public facility he had ever seen.

A moment later, the two reached the station, stepped onto the platform, and moved quietly toward the seating area. They reached Mr. Masters, as Cameron dubbed him, just as he slipped a digital device into his pocket, sat back on his bench, and turned to face them.

"Excuse me," Cameron said. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but we're new to this area and don't know much about the transit system. Does this train go to Evansville?"

"It sure does," Mr. Masters said.

"When does the next train come through?"

The man pointed to the sign.

Cameron turned around and waited for the sign, a holographic Cheshire cat, to reappear. Ten seconds later, he learned that the next train to Evansville was just five minutes away.

"How much is the round-trip fare?" Cameron asked.

"Most days it's four dollars," Mr. Masters said. "Today it's free."

"Why free? Is today a holiday or something?"

The man looked at Cameron strangely and rubbed his chin.

"Where are you from?"

"I'm from Providence, Rhode Island," Cameron said.

"Don't they waive fares and fees on the president's birthday?"

"No."

Mr. Masters fixed his gaze.

"Well, they do here."

Cameron took a moment to digest the information. He couldn't remember the last time the government – state, federal, or local – waived fees for anyone's birthday.

"Isn't President's Day in February?"

Mr. Masters shook his head.

"You really
aren't
from around here, are you? Today is President White's birthday, son, not President Washington's. No one pays fares or fees on the president's birthday."

Cameron laughed nervously.

"You're right. I guess that explains why the office is closed."

The man looked again at Cameron, as if trying to make sense of a stupid animal, and then turned to Candice. He gazed at her for several seconds before restarting the conversation.

"You're very pretty," Mr. Masters said.

"Thank you," Candice replied.

"You remind me of a woman in a photograph I have at home."

"Is she someone special?"

"She is," Mr. Masters said. "She's my great-great-grandmother. She had your smile and your distinctive hair. I've only seen hair like yours in old movies."

Candice smiled.

"Perhaps it's making a comeback."

"I hope so," Mr. Masters said. He smiled sadly. "I'd like to see a lot of things come back."

Cameron gave Candice a knowing smile when she met his gaze. He could not believe he had forgotten about her hair, which, unlike her attire, was tied to a specific era. The finger wave had not been spotted in North America since the 1930s.

Cameron started to ask Mr. Masters about his last comment but stopped when he felt the platform vibrate and heard a faint noise. He looked to the west just as a bullet train approached.

The man got up from his bench.

"Here's your train," Mr. Masters said. He nodded at his acquaintances. "It's been nice meeting you folks. Have a nice day."

"You too," Cameron said.

Cameron watched with interest as the man took his leave, stepped to the edge of the platform, and then followed the train as it slowed to a stop. He watched with even greater interest as he greeted the sole exiting passenger, kissed her on the cheek, and then led her toward the parking lot. Mrs. Masters, it appeared, had arrived on the twelve fifteen.

Cameron let his mind drift and thought of pleasant things until a voice over a speaker broke the silence and pulled him out of a daze. He turned to Candice.

"It's decision time," Cameron said. "Do we stay or go?"

"Let's go," Candice said in a firm voice. "Let's get on."

Cameron didn't push his luck. He took Candice's hand and led her quickly to the nearest open door as the man with the disembodied voice spoke again. They boarded the train, took a seat, and settled in for a fifteen-minute ride. Their leap into the twenty-first century had begun.