Eric Flint: Time spike

Never budged from his claim to be innocent-and, privately, I eventually decided he was. The truth is, we all liked him, after a while." They'd never found Leland Jefferson's head. When Andy finally thought to inquire, the Boomers told him Jefferson was one of the men whose bodies they'd incinerated in those early days. He was just ashes, now, slowly spreading across the world of the Cretaceous.

"Andy, let itgo." A few minutes went by, as they sat together on a log just outside the prison. By now, the area around Alexander was quite safe. In the course of scouring the area for escaped convicts, Griffin and his Cherokees also reported any dangerous-looking animals they spotted. Kershner and his men would respond immediately. They carried modern rifles as backup, but they always fired the first volley with the muskets. Hulbert was right about that. It remained to be seen how the muskets would do against something the size of a tyrannosaur or an allosaur. But those were few and far between, and none had been spotted within two miles of the prison. Against the smaller predators they did encounter, one volley of. 69 caliber bullets was enough. Certainly enough to take them down. The rifles were only used to finish the kill, if needed. Eventually, Jenny sighed. "All right. I know you well enough to know you probably won't let it go. Not ever, at least somewhere in your mind, till the day you die. But would it help any if you held me, in the meantime?" "Sure would." "Then do it. Start right now, and never stop so long as we're both alive."

Chapter 57 "Hernando!" De Soto turned his head; something was coming from beyond the rise. "Run! Run!" His men were scattering, moving faster than they had moved in days. Then he saw the demon.

"Cowards!" he shouted. He drew and fired his wheel-lock pistol. Then drew the other from its saddle holster and fired again. There'd be no time to reload. He drew his sword and spurred his mount. The horse threw him. Then fled. De Soto staggered to his feet. The demon might have gone after the horse, except that de Soto's fury was too great.

On foot, he charged, staggering and reeling. He was still half-stunned from the impact of being thrown. Calling for the blessing of the virgin and the saints. No man is a villain, in his own eyes. And whatever virtues were absent in the man named Hernando de Soto, courage was not among them. All who observed his end, and survived to tell the tale, agreed that de Soto never stopped fighting. Not even after the demon's jaws had closed upon his middle and lifted him high, and his blood and intestines spilled everywhere. Still, he struck at the reptile head with his sword; and struck again, and again. Some swore he struck a last blow as he disappeared into the maw. And believe he fights still, in Lucifer's very bowels.

Chapter 58 The seven-year-old girl's eyes looked as wide as saucers. "You promise you won't hurt him?" Esther Hu stooped and took Linda May Tucker's little hands in her own, which weren't all that much bigger. She didn't have to stoop much, either. The paleontologist was a very small woman. "Linda May, believe me, the very very very last thing we're going to do is hurt the little fellow. He's more precious than gold." The girl stared at her, for a bit. "Well, okay, then. I guess." "And you can come visit him any time you want to, just to make sure he's all right." Esther glanced up at the girl's parents.

"We'll be glad to pay the cost of the trip, folks." The mother nodded.

The father just looked relieved. Watching, Margo had to keep from laughing. Quite obviously, the father had heard the same stories about what happens to baby alligators kept as pets that she'd heard. Linda May Tucker, now satisfied enough, started examining the room curiously. Her eyes fell on a very big, thick book lying on a table nearby, kept under glass. "What's that?" "That?" Esther straightened up and studied the book for a moment. "We call it Exhibit A. What it is, though, is a very old Bible. Really old." "Can I touch it?" Margo stepped forward. "Better not, honey. It might get damaged. It's really really old." She was fudging, actually. True, looked at from one angle, the Bible was slightly over four hundred years old. But, measured from the likely date of printing, it was no older than some of the books in Margo's own library. And it was very sturdy. Still, they weren't taking any chances. Not with a German-language Bible, printed in Fraktur typeface, from the last decade of the sixteenth century. There was no date printed anywhere in it, but the expert Nick had brought in said he could place it and date it quite precisely-to the satisfaction of any antique or rare book dealer in the world. More to the point, he could place it and date it so precisely that not all of the king's men nor all of the king's lawyers nor all of the king's national security experts could deny the fact. Nick had been right. In less than eight months, they'd turned up seventeen people in the area around Grantville who'd discovered something, before the federal agencies clamped down. The Bible had been among the things they'd found. And then, encountering the blank indifference or even outright hostility of the authorities, had decided to keep those items quietly as a private possession and say nothing further. Margo still wasn't sure she agreed with Nick's plan, to wait until there was a change of administration before holding the press conference. Somewhere in the darker recesses of her mind, she had a faint lingering suspicion that Nick was trying to avoid embarrassing the current holder of the White House. He admitted himself that he'dvoted for the bum, even if she was pretty sure he'd come to regret the fact as time went by. Still, she understood Nick's insistence that politics be kept out of The Project's policies. And his reasoning was hard to argue with. The election was only a short time away, after all. And a new administration, regardless of which party's candidate won, wouldn't feel compelled to hold the bunker of folly at all costs. Not even the party which now controlled the White House, with a new President. Not after The Project held the press conference. With-so far-four Nobel Prize winners having quietly agreed to attend and give their support.

With-so far-dozens of eyewitnesses who could report things that were completely at variance with the official government line. With-so far-well over two hundred objects of one kind or another that did the same. All of it backed up by the massive data The Project had collected over the years here in Minnesota. Data, furthermore, that had been duplicated at least in part by more than a dozen research facilities elsewhere in the world. And they had Exhibit A. Which was now, of course, demoted to Exhibit B. Margo beamed down at the new Exhibit A, which had just arrived from a farm located three miles from the spot where Alexander Correctional Center had once stood. The baby velociraptor peered back up at her. "His name's Chucky," the girl explained. Esther and the paleontologistsswore the critter wouldn't get any bigger than a large turkey. Margo hoped they were right. Even as tiny as it was, those teeth looked sharp-and the big claws on the feet looked even scarier. There wasn't much question it would grow up, either. The girl who'd found it, just coming out of the egg, had lavished tender loving care on her new pet. It was obviously quite healthy. "He likes Chicken McNuggets. And french fries. But you gotta break them up into little pieces first. So he doesn't choke or anything." Linda May leaned over, reached a finger into the cage, and stroked the creature's neck. Margo would swear the little monster arched its neck in response. And it made some sort of noise that sounded almost like a purr. Couldn't be, of course.

Epilogue "One year to the day," Edelman pronounced. "Well.

Formally, I guess." Jenny smiled at him. "What's the formality involved, Jeff? Wehave kept track of the days. This is the three hundred and sixty-fifth. Don't tell me you're trying to screw us up with a leap year." Edelman grimaced. "The folly of common sense.