David Epperson - The Third Day

“Makes sense. What kind of temporal variation can we expect?” I asked.

Ellison answered, “For some reason, the temporal aspect is more of a Poisson distribution. However, our calculations based on Dr. Bryson’s trip to Dallas indicate that the arrival time should not deviate from expectations by more than one hour. In fact, we believe such a deviation to be a mathematical impossibility.”

“That’s what they said about all those subprime derivatives,” said Markowitz. “The probability of default was eight or nine standard deviations from the mean — something that would happen about the time the next asteroid hit the earth.”

“We’re quite confident that our calc — ”

Bryson stepped forward. “We’re talking about physical phenomena here, Ray, not the behavior of people. Protons and electrons by themselves are incapable of such stupidity.”

“What’s the weather going to be like?” asked Sharon.

“The normal low in Jerusalem for this time of year is 47, with a high of 66. It should be quite pleasant,” said Bryson.

“What if that day’s not normal? As I recall, the Gospels tell of people huddled around a fire in the courtyard, trying to stay warm.”

“I don’t know about you,” replied Juliet, “but I find 47 degrees rather chilly. It’s a dry climate, so it will warm up quickly once the sun comes out. You can take an outer robe of wool, though, if you’d like, just in case.”

That sounded like a good idea, so we all grabbed one. Finally, Sharon asked one last question.

“What does it feel like?”

“Henry described it as waking up from a nap. You know, how you need to shake the cobwebs loose for a few seconds after you wake up.”

“Do you feel any sensations on the trip itself?”

“No. He said it was like falling asleep. Only you wake up somewhere else.”

No one spoke. Bryson waited a few more seconds and then said, “If you are all ready, then I suggest we get going.”

Juliet pressed a button near the plexiglass window as the kid returned to the transit control room. A sliding door dropped down through the floor leaving an opening about five feet tall.

No one said anything as they checked their clothing and travel bags; then re-checked them, and then re-checked them again for good measure.

I laughed quietly to myself. My traveling companions were behaving like raw recruits before their first parachute jump, trying to mask their anxiety with a burst of activity.

After a couple of minutes, the system powered through a final test cycle and all was in order. Bryson glanced at Lavon and pointed to the opening.

“Robert, I believe you’re first.”

The archaeologist slid his staff and cloth travel pouch through the door, then took a deep breath and crept through the entrance. We heard a soft whoosh of air as the door closed, and then watched through the plexiglass as he sat on the floor between the string lines.

After closing his eyes and taking another deep breath, he looked to the control window and flashed a thumbs-up. The spindly kid pressed a button; seconds later, Lavon vanished.

“That’s it?” said Markowitz. “No flash of light or puff of smoke?”

Juliet smiled. “Our first tests produced an intense burst, but we have refined the apparatus since then. I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she said.

I wasn’t disappointed at all. I for one would have found smoke quite worrying.

She turned to me. “Your turn, Mr. Culloden.”

I grabbed my bag and eased over to the transit room door, hoping they couldn’t see that I was as nervous as they were. After situating myself in the correct spot, I signaled to Ellison. Time to go .

An instant later, I found myself lying on the ground, shivering suddenly in the cold. I also saw that someone in Boston had miscalculated. Instead of it being late morning, a faint strip of orange had just emerged from the horizon to the east.

Despite the timing error, all of my body parts seemed to be intact. I was still shaking the cobwebs loose when I heard a quick ‘psst’ and looked over to see Lavon, lying flat on the ground about thirty feet away.

When he saw me, he signaled toward a small slit in the rock, barely visible about a hundred yards in the distance. We both crept toward it without speaking.

We had only gone a short distance when we saw a bright flash. A man in a robe jumped to his feet and started frantically casting about.

Markowitz.

“Robert? Bill? Where are you?” he called out.

Lavon rushed forward and tackled him. “For God’s sake shut up.”

We sat there for about a minute, listening and hoping no one had heard us, before we crept closer to the cave. I hesitated at the entrance, though Lavon reminded us that the state of the Professor’s bones meant that whatever had happened to him, a wild animal lurking inside had not torn him apart.

Silly me.

Once we had gone in, I could tell that the cave broadened considerably, though without a portable source of light, it was impossible to tell how deep into the hills it went.

I had just begun running through my own mental checklist when we saw another flash about twenty-five feet in front of the cave entrance.

“They’re getting more accurate,” whispered Lavon, who chirped a quiet ‘psst’ and helped Sharon into the cave.

Her eyes bulged with disbelief. I asked her, as a joke, how things were back in Boston, but she was too stunned to speak.

We didn’t have long to gather our wits, though. As she eased herself into a comfortable spot, Lavon continued to stare out the narrow slit with an expression of total concentration.

Something was out there.

All I could see in the early dawn light were rocky, scrub-covered hills that ran on for some distance. But Lavon’s senses proved correct: not long afterward, we heard bleating and watched a shepherd drive a small flock of about two dozen animals into a narrow ravine a quarter mile away.

He was in a hurry, too. Just behind him, two other people moved quickly to catch up; one of them a small child whose legs struggled valiantly to maintain the pace.

I would have laughed at the little munchkin — he was trying so hard — but moments later, we heard a distinctive clanging sound, one that even I, with my Army damaged ears, could hear plainly. It was the sound of equipment, and armor.

Soldiers , I mouthed to Lavon, who nodded.

Sharon started to peer outside, but he pulled her back — just in time, too — for a few seconds later, a primeval shout broke the morning’s quiet, followed immediately by the impact of stones against shields.

I muttered a silent expletive. This was an unpleasant turn of events.

We couldn’t do much but lie flat on the ground and listen as the clashing of swords accompanied the screams of men as they were hit. Making matters worse, the first casualties started trickling past.

Sharon blanched at the sight of a man hobbling by, though she had the presence of mind not to make a sound. It couldn’t have been easy: the man’s left arm had been nearly sliced off at the elbow and his knee length tunic was soaked in blood.

By some miracle, he didn’t seek shelter in our cave. Either he didn’t know of it, or, more likely, he suffered from the tunnel vision so common to wounded men in headlong flight.

As time went on, the images outside failed to improve. Two bearded men passed by next; one helping the other, who held his hands over his belly, struggling with only limited success to keep his own entrails from falling to the ground.

That one wouldn’t make it very far, I knew. Whatever these people had planned, it had gone badly wrong.

A stream of men followed, all dressed in similar beige tunics, scrambling down the hill as fast as they could. A few still held onto their swords, but most had either lost their weapons or thrown them aside in their haste to get away.