A Circle of Time (9 page)

Suddenly, a scream pierced the air. “Noo-ooo!”

Joshua catapulted from the top of the hill and onto the man's back. “Allison, run!” he yelled.
“Run!”

Allison watched in terror as man and boy struggled in a mad tangle of arms and legs. Joshua's slight build was no match for the man. She had to help.

Spying a dead branch by the edge of the ravine, she hop-limped to the branch. As she stooped to pick it up, the ground dissolved beneath her. A scream ripped from her throat as she slid down the cliff on her belly, digging fingers and toes into the loose dirt and grabbing in vain at shrubs and rocks that whipped by. She landed on a ledge about twenty feet from the road, her right leg horribly twisted beneath her. Below lay a fifty-foot drop.

A tiny sound filled her brain and grew louder. It was the sound of weeping. Between sobs, a voice whimpered, “Oh, please save me. Please don't let me die.”

Allison tried to lift her arm, but the tiniest movement sent a spray of gravel shooting off the ledge. Without touching it, she knew her leg was broken. She could never climb off the ledge alone.

“Oh, God, help me,” Allison prayed. “Please let this ledge hold.”

“Allison!”
Joshua's scream echoed, bouncing off rocky cliff walls.

Allison heard the sound of running feet, and Joshua's head appeared above her.

“Joshua!” she cried. “Don't get too close. The ground, it's—”

“Don't you worry about me. Are you hurt? Can you move?”

“My leg—I think it's broken.”

“I'll come down to you.”

“No! This ledge won't hold both of us.”

Joshua stood up. “I'll have to get help, then. Can you manage—”

A deep rumble from the center of the earth swallowed the rest of his words. Explosions of dirt and rocks tore through the ravine. The cliff shook as if a giant hand were jarring it back and forth. The violent motion flung Joshua off the edge. He sailed past Allison like a rag doll.

As though a trapdoor had been released, the ledge on which Allison lay split from the cliff and dropped away. For an instant she hovered, suspended in midair. In that split second, she felt Becky's terror, felt the knowledge of impending death. Then she snapped free from Becky's body and floated up into the sky.

As Becky's body plummeted through the air, Allison floated high above the scene, screaming, “Becky! Joshuuu-aaaa!”

 

I whirl through the wind tunnel toward the sound of sobbing. The emotional pain is unbearable; it overwhelms me, paralyzes me. But without a body, I can't shed tears, I can't let go, I can't fully release my grief.

I get it now. I finally understand how Becky can reach into the future.

Becky is dead.

She fell to her death at the ravine during the 1906 earthquake. It's her ghost that speaks to me now, that orders me back to the past to try to make things right. Her spirit can't rest with the knowledge of what she did: She led the boy she loved to his death. She has waited all these years for someone to help her undo the past.

And she chose me.

But I failed. I failed her ... and I failed Joshua.

Floating above the hospital room, I see Mom sitting beside my bed, holding my hand. PoPo is lying in the crook of my other arm. Mom has her head on my chest, and she's sobbing. I try to float down into my body, but a force like that of repelling magnets keeps me away.

Mom, don't cry. I'm back. Please don't cry.

Mom raises her head and glances sleepily around the room. Her cheek is red from where it was pressed against my chest, but her face isn't tearstained. The sobbing continues.

Becky, is that you?

“Allison,” Becky whimpers, “you were too late. I needed you to help me, but you were too late.”

I'm sorry, Becky. I tried. But I didn't know what to do...

“I helped you, Allison. You have to help me. ”

There's nothing I can do, Becky. You're...

“You have to help me. It's your turn—”

Stop saying that!
I yell, finally losing patience.
I know you helped me. I know I wouldn't be in the hospital if it weren't for you—lot of good it's done me so far. But I
need to know how to help you. Just tell me how. I'd give anything to undo what happened to you ... and Joshua.

“Joshua ... oh, Joshua.” Becky begins to sob again, a sorrowful, haunting sob.

Then the sobbing fades, and the force field is lifted. I'm sucked back into my body with a snap. I feel Mom's hand on mine and the softness of PoPo against my other arm.

The door opens. “Mrs. Blair?” a woman's voice says. Mom releases my hand and rises from her chair, scraping the legs on the linoleum. “Doctor, thank you for coming. Any news?”

“Mrs. Blair, Allison is going to need surgery—”

“Surgery?” Mom's voice quavers. “What kind of surgery? Is it dangerous?”

“Brain surgery. When Allison was admitted, the CT scan showed a very small subdural hematoma secondary to the accident—”

“A what? You might as well be speaking Greek. I—I don't understand.”

“A small bleeder inside her head—actually, between the inside of her skull and her brain. At the time, it wasn't significant enough to require immediate surgery, especially in Allison's weakened condition.”

The doctor pauses a moment, then continues. “As I've explained before, we've attributed her coma to a diffuse brain swelling that occurred because of a contusion—a bruising of her brain caused by the injury to her head when she hit the rocks. Allison was beginning to improve as her brain ‘healed,' but there's been an abrupt deterioration—”

“Deterioration?” Mom whispers. I feel her sink onto the edge of my bed. “You mean, Allison's getting worse?”

“I'm afraid so, Mrs. Blair. When we repeated the CT, we found that the subdural has grown and requires an operation to drain the mass of blood. Right now, the collection of blood inside Allison's skull is putting too much pressure on her brain, making her symptoms worse.”

“If you operate, could she...?”

“With brain surgery, Mrs. Blair, there's always a risk. But we have no choice. Without the surgery, her brain will be irreversibly damaged, and she will likely die.”

Mom and the doctor keep talking, but I've stopped listening.
I might die. Even if I don't, I might never awake from this coma. Oh, will this nightmare ever end?

Mom squeezes my hand. “Please come back, Allison. I need you.”

“I need you, Allison,” whispers another voice. “I helped you, now you help me.”

No! Not now! Let me be with Mom. I can't go back there
—
there's nothing to go back to
—
Joshua's gone!

Mom is still beside me, holding my hand, but her voice is muffled.

“It's time, Allison,” Becky whispers.

I fight to feel Mom's hand, to hear her voice, but all I can hear is a rush of air, like the sound of a giant fan spinning, and Becky's voice.

“You have to help me, Allison. I helped you. Now it's your turn. ”

I feel myself lift from the bed. I struggle to reenter my body, but the force field is back. Becky's spirit has taken over.

I can't help you. I can't change the past. You're dead, Becky. I can't bring you back!

A scream rips through my soul, shaking the very core of my being.

“Noooooo! Save me!” Becky cries, as I'm hurled through the wind tunnel and plunged backward in time.

I cannot rest; life's lost its thrill.
I need you back—I'll fight, I'll kill!
I'll battle death; I'll travel time,
for mere existence is a crime.
Dear God, please, take me, too!

Allison felt the moist, fresh grass beneath her bare toes and against her legs; she inhaled the scent of pines and the smell of earth, still wet from a light spring rain. The sun gently warmed her hair and penetrated the back of the thin cotton dress.

“I'm back,” she whispered to herself as she walked through the pine-encircled meadow toward the Thompson cabin.

“Becky! Becky, wait up!” called a familiar voice.

Allison turned and saw Joshua emerging from under the pines. He ran through the tall meadow grass, jumping over fallen trees and branches. He was wearing the same baggy pants and plaid flannel shirt he had worn when she first met him.

“Becky, you're late.” His gray eyes twinkled with mischief.

Allison stared incredulously at the boy. “You're all right.”

“Course I'm all right. Why wouldn't I be? Stop playing, Becky.” Joshua gave her an impish grin, his eyes laughing all the while. He tugged at one of her braids, drawing her toward him. “Come on back before your mama sees.”

Allison lifted a hand to touch his face, to make sure he was really there, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the thicket of pines. She was too stunned from seeing him alive and unharmed to resist.

She let Joshua lead her away from the meadow to the pines. As they were entering the thicket, a woman's loud voice shattered the peaceful silence. “Rebecca Lee! Come on home, now. Rebecca!”

“Oh, Becky—I told you we wouldn't have time.” Joshua hung his head.

It's all happening again,
she thought.
Exactly as before.

Allison grabbed his shoulders. “What day is this?”

“What does it matter—”

“Just answer my question, Joshua. What's the date?”

Joshua shrugged. “Fine. It's April 1, 1906.”

Allison gave him a wry grin and shook her head. “April Fools' Day.”
How appropriate. This whole thing is a practical joke fate is playing on me.

“Stop wasting time, Becky.” Joshua turned Allison toward the cabin. “You'd best git, or she'll find out about us.”

Allison's mind raced. She was getting a second chance to change the past. This time she knew what would happen if she failed. “No, Joshua, I'm not—”

“Don't argue, Becky. Remember what happened last time?”

“Rebecca!” Sadie's voice grew closer.

“I'd better scat, Becky.” Joshua turned. “Same time, same place, next week—don't be late!”

“No, Joshua. This time, I'm going with you.”

Joshua stopped and stared in disbelief. “What?”

Allison grabbed his arm and pulled him into the woods. “Hurry, she'll be here any second.”

 

“What's gotten into you, girl?” Joshua said, panting, after they were safely away from Sadie Thompson. “I've never seen you acting like this. Running away from your ma...”

“Listen to me, Joshua.” Allison turned him toward her and took his face in her hands. “Look into my eyes.”

Joshua's clear gray eyes searched hers. His dimples deepened as the impish grin grew.

“Who am I?” Allison held her breath for the answer.

Joshua's eyes opened wide. “Who are you? What kind of craziness is that? You're Becky Lee Thompson, same as always.”

Allison heaved a sigh of bitter disappointment.
He doesn't remember me. The fishing hole, playing in the stream, holding hands in the woods
—
it's never happened. I'll have to start over, trying to get him to trust me, to believe me. And he may never feel the same. But if I'm to save his life and Becky's, I'm going to have to make him believe me!

“Joshua, try again, please ... don't you see something else ... something different?”

“I see you actin' crazy.”

“Have I ever acted like this before?”

Joshua's brow wrinkled. “Well, no ... can't say's you have. For the past hour you've been pulling and pushing and hiding and running. And asking crazy questions.”

“And do I
look
different?”

“I guess”—Joshua's grin deepened—“your eyes are kinda fiery...”

“Yes! Fiery, that's a start—fiery.”

“Becky—”

At that moment, a gray-and-black ball of fur bolted from under a bush and landed at their feet. Sitting in begging position, the little raccoon covered his masked eyes with tiny black claws.

“Bubba!” Allison squealed with delight. She stooped down and scratched Bubba's head.

“You know Bubba?” Joshua squatted next to Allison.

“Sure, you introduced us when—I mean...” Allison glanced around. “We must be close to Magda's.”

“Of course, we're close to Magda's—you know that.” Joshua paused, his eyebrows furrowed. “You having another spell, Becky?”

“Enough about the spells, Joshua.” Allison stood up. “I'm sick of hearing about those stupid spells.”

“Sorry, I just meant—You're acting awfully peculiar. When did you start liking animals?”

“Joshua, I have a lot to tell you. But first, take me to Magda's. She can help me explain.”

 

Allison was surprised at how comforting it felt to be back at Magda's, surrounded by the smells of dried herbs and flowers and candle wax. While Bubba napped in his corner, Magda served her guests a hearty fish soup with coarse brown bread and goat's cheese.

When they had finished eating, Allison turned to Magda. “I had Joshua bring me here today because I need your help.”

Magda's serene expression remained unchanged. “How may I help you, Becky?”

Now that the moment had arrived, Allison didn't know where to start. Last time, the truth almost came out by itself, through a natural chain of events. This time, she'd have to force the truth on them, unless she could get Magda to use her powers. But how? The bruised-arm incident hadn't happened yet. And if she had her way, it wouldn't happen at all.

“I ran away from Sadie—I mean Mama.”