I think I might’ve blacked out for a few seconds, because the first thing I remembered was opening my eyes and staring directly at the sun, ouch.
Covering my face with my hand, I groggily picked myself off the ground. I blinked the spots out of my eyes, my vision gradually adjusting to the outside light. I frowned in confusion, my brain feeling jumbled and sluggish. How had I gotten outside?
I crossed my arms, shivering slightly as a cold breeze blew past, and tried to piece together everything that had gotten me to where I was right now. I’d been at school, auditioned for Hamlet, had my dreams and aspirations ground into a fine paste, attempted to hijack Gerard’s time machine–.
The time machine! I felt my heart drop into my feet, memories flooding back into my mind. I had tried to go to the past, the time machine had malfunctioned, and I’d ended up getting sucked inside some kind of red, angry-looking portal. The fact that I was still alive to ponder this turn of events was a good sign, but I still had a ton of questions, the first and foremost being, where the heck was I? Despite the situation, I couldn’t help but chuckle. I had just gone through a time machine; I shouldn’t be asking where I was, but WHEN I was.
I know laughter probably wasn’t the most appropriate response to getting sucked into a malfunctioning time machine, but it was a defense mechanism to keep myself from mentally spiraling. To be honest, though, it wasn’t doing a very good job, and I was one additional problem away from curling up in a ball and sobbing again.
Taking a moment to look around, I realized I was standing in a massive grain field. The grain stalks approached my shoulders and stretched for hundreds of yards in every direction. It probably would have made for a pretty fun maze if I was a bit shorter, but I also had more pressing concerns that I needed to focus on. In the distance, rising above the stalks of grain, I spotted a forest. The trees looked pretty old, pushing high up into the air, their thick canopies of leaves beginning to turn a pleasant yellow and orange, probably signaling the beginning of fall.
Okay, Detective Piper was on the case. From my initial observation of the surrounding area, I could tell I was somewhere with grain, trees, and sunlight, oh and it was kind of cold. Nothing really all that useful to clue me into when I was.
Gerard had implied that he’d used his time machine to witness the heat death of the universe. I certainly hoped I hadn’t been flung that far into the future, as I was not in the mood to explode along with all of existence. Thankfully, from the scant amount I knew about science, I was pretty sure the death of literally everything was still billions of years in the future, and nothing around me looked especially futuristic or in the midst of exploding. I’d neglected to ask Gerard what exactly the future even looked like, but I’d always assumed that Earth billions of years from now would be a lot more chrome and there’d be spaceships flying around everywhere.
Spying a distinct lack of starship destroyers or robot armies, I would tentatively guess that as far as time travel was concerned, I wasn’t in the future…unless humanity had wiped itself out thousands of years ago, and all this plant life around me was Earth’s vegetation reclaiming the space.
I frowned, ruminating on the thought. If I was at a point in history where Gerard wasn’t alive or time travel hadn’t been normalized, would I have any way of returning to my own time, or would I be stuck here forever? I gasped, my body beginning to shake uncontrollably at the dark thought. Sensing a panic attack coming on, I quickly started reciting lines from Hamlet under my breath, trying to distract my brain from the hopeless-seeming situation. “Here’s yet some bacon,” I whispered, rubbing vigorously at my hand, trying to get it to stop shaking. “Here’s the small of bacon still.”
I continued going over my lines, repeating them to the point where I drove out every other intrusive thought from my head, and after a few agonizingly long minutes, the shaking finally stopped. I took a deep breath, suddenly very tired. Whenever I was overly stressed, I started monologuing; it gave me something to focus on and helped calm my nerves. That mental spiral would return with a vengeance sooner or later, but I could hold it off for now.
I looked down at myself, realizing I should probably make sure all of me had made it through the time machine. I did a quick pat-down, and thankfully, everything still seemed to be attached. Pulling up the sleeves of my shirt, I spotted a string of bruises on my arms from where Gerard had grabbed onto me but appeared otherwise free of injuries. I also discovered that my school backpack had been sucked into the portal with me and was lying on the ground a few feet from where I’d landed. I stared at it, pondering whether I should take it with me. I doubted there was a chapter in my algebra textbook about time travel, but ultimately decided to lug my school supplies along for the journey if for no other reason than the comfort of having something familiar.
Then, having no idea what else to do, I pushed through the stalks of grain and, after a few minutes of walking, made my way out of the field and arrived at the edge of the forest I’d spotted earlier.
I looked around for distinguishing landmarks and spotted a small stream flowing nearby. All my crying had made me incredibly parched, so I took a few sips of water from the stream, remembering too late that untreated water might be filled with parasites and I’d possibly just doomed myself to a painful diarrhea-induced demise.
I nervously sat by the stream for a few minutes, and after not dropping dead, I decided the water was probably safe enough and drank some more.
Performing such a routine, mundane action like drinking water helped calm me down a bit, and once I was no longer thirsty, I stood back up and decided to keep following the stream, as it was possible other people might be living by the water. Gosh, I hope there are people around.
I followed the stream for a solid 15 minutes seeing nothing besides more stupid trees and the occasional woodland animal. My stomach growled upon seeing the cute and alluringly plump squirrels bounding across the tree branches, but I knew there was no way I could possibly catch them. Plus, I wasn’t sure if I could eat something so adorable. I continued my stoic march into the unknown and was considering trying out a new direction when I spotted a plume of smoke rising up in the distance above the tree line.
I brightened; smoke was a good sign, it usually meant cooking or warmth, and that meant people…or a forest fire, or killer robots in the midst of destroying civilization. I paused, debating my options, and broke into a run, killer robots or not; anything was better than nothing…probably.
XXX
After another few minutes of travel, I made it to the source of the smoke. A couple hundred feet away in a grassy clearing was a small wooden house, white smoke lazily drifting from its chimney. More importantly, outside the home were people!
I sank to my knees and teared up in relief. Sweet civilization! It wasn’t the Jurassic period or the heat death of the universe, I was at a time in history where there were other people! Still, though, what kind of people were they? Just because they were humans didn’t mean they were necessarily friendly.
I crept forward, hiding behind some shrubbery, and tried to get a better read on the situation. It looked like a family of four: a mom, a dad, and a brother and sister, maybe seven and ten years old, respectively. The mom was shucking a small pile of corn, the dad was chopping firewood, and the kids were running around playing what looked like tag. I frowned. They definitely appeared low-tech, which wasn’t good news for me, but maybe they were just Amish.
I took a bracing breath and exited the shrubs, slowly walking towards the home, as I flashed a friendly smile and shouted hello. I realized a moment later we might not even speak the same language, that would certainly complicate things.
The family turned in my direction, surprised at the random person exiting their shrubbery. The father squinted his eyes, looking me up and down critically. “Oy, you’re a strange-lookin’ one, ain’t ya lass?” He said, tightening the grip on his ax handle. “Hope you’re not meanin’ any trouble for me an my kin.”
Okay, that was definitely old speak, and did he say I looked strange? I glanced down at my bright yellow shirt, still adorned with smiley faces and flowers. Comparatively, the family across from me seemed to be wearing a hodgepodge of leather, loose-fitting tunics, and animal skins. Yeah, I guess from their perspective, I did look kind of strange. Oh well, at least they spoke English, even if it sounded weird.
“Hi there, I’m Piper, and I don’t mean any trouble,” I replied as I edged forward, raising my hands in surrender and trying to look as friendly and non-threatening as possible. “Say, weird question, do you know when we are right now?”
The mom and dad looked at each other quizzically. After a moment’s hesitation, the mother spoke up. “Uh, afternoon, I think.”
Okay, that wasn’t helpful in the slightest.
The awkward exchange was interrupted by a long and drawn-out rumble from my stomach, making the situation even more awkward. I patted my tummy, realizing it could have been hundreds to thousands of years since I last ate.
“She looks hungry, Sam,” continued the woman, picking up a shucked ear of corn and fearlessly striding over to place it in my hands. “Here ya are sweet’um,” she said with a smile, “I picked out an ear with some extra maggots to help fill up yer’ tummy. It’ll make ‘ya plump as a partridge.”
“Gee, thanks,” I replied, staring at the maggot-infested corn cob and trying not to sound ungrateful. I was hungry, but I wasn’t sure if I was that hungry. Still, I wanted to be polite, so I found the least maggoty-looking part of the corn and took a tiny bite. Wow, it was somehow chewy, crunchy, and wriggly at the same time!
The dad, the one I assume was called Sam, split a large piece of wood and stared at his wife grumpily. “Come now, Lucile, you know we can’t be sharin’ food with strangers. It’s difficult enough to feed the four mouths we already have.”
Lucille waggled a finger at her husband, “Remember the teachings, Sam, do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
Sam groaned in a way that made it sound like they’d had this exact conversation many times before. “Right, right, I surrender.” Sam stared at me, lips pursed slightly. “We always try an’ be charitable to strangers, but don’t go takin’ advantage of my wife’s hospitality.”
“Not to worry, sir,” I quickly replied, feeling a few pieces of maggot still wriggling around in my mouth, “I’m just passing through, won’t cause you any trouble.”
Sam nodded and returned to splitting wood, appearing to lose all interest in me. The little girl ran up and tugged at my shorts, staring up at me with big blue eyes. “Nice to meet you, Miss Piper; I hope I grow up to be as pretty as you someday.”
Aww, what a sweet kid!
The boy walked over to join his sister, scrunched his nose, and spat on the ground. “Pretty ugly if you ask me, what is she even wearing?”
I resisted the urge to punt the little snot into a tree.
Everyone perked up as we heard what sounded like horses galloping in the distance. Following the direction of the noise, I saw a cloud of dust rising in the air, and it looked like it was heading in our direction.
Sam’s eyes widened. “Blast, the king’s knights!” Sam dropped his axe and ran into the wooden house. Curious to see the living arrangements and try and pinpoint when I was in history, I poked my head in after him. The interior looked sorta like an old log cabin, complete with a small metal stove, rocking chairs, several deer pelt rugs, and what looked like lumpy mattresses stuffed with straw. Looked kinda like a place that would be fun to visit for a family camping trip. Also, did Sam just say nights or knights? That was an important clarifier.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“Quick, everyone look poor!” cried Sam as he threw dusty rugs and sheets over the furniture.
“We are poor Sam,” replied Lucille, hurriedly stowing the corn she’d been shucking into a nearby barrel.
“Well, rub some dirt on your face for good measure; we have to look destitute!”
I helped the couple throw rugs over the furniture, and about two minutes later, a half-dozen armor-clad men on horseback saddled up towards the front of Sam and Lucille’s home. The men’s metallic armor gleamed in the sun, colorful blue and white plumage adorned the tops of their helmets, and swords rested in scabbards at each of their sides. Yep, they definitely looked like knights, not nights.
Sam shuffled toward the armored knights, bowing slightly and forcing a smile. “Uh, afternoon, sires; what can a couple of poor and financially ill-gotten farmers do for you?”
A man without armor rode up in front of Sam. He was a surly-looking guy with poofy pants and a stupid-looking hat, but based on the deferential body language of the knights, he seemed like their leader. I immediately decided to call him Poofy Pants.
“Greetings, citizen; droned Poofy Pants, staring down impassively at Sam from atop his horse. “We are here to collect taxes for King Cassian; you may present your payment now.”
“Please pardon any potential disrespect, m’lord,” replied Sam, his smile looking strained, “but I seem to recall paying taxes to the king last week…and the week before that.”
Poofy Pants nodded, “Indeed, but the war continues to drain the royal treasury at an alarming rate, hence why you citizens have the privilege of helping to ease our kingdom’s financial burden.”
Sam wrung his hands, “A thousand apologies, m’lord, but we’re completely out of money, and we’ve already harvested all our crops for this season.”
Poofy pants wrinkled his mustache in displeasure. “Regrettable. Men,” He said, turning to the other riders, “search the house; if there’s no money, then take something of equal value.” The knights dismounted from their horses and entered the home, roughly shoving various items and furniture aside in their search for valuables.
“Hey now,” said Lucille with a huff, grabbing for fragile-looking vases and pottery that the knights were tossing carelessly around the house, “this is our home; you can’t just go flinging our things about willy-nilly.”
Crack! Something inside the house broke. The little girl stared in horror at the men as they ransacked her home, and teared up, “Mommy, I think they just broke your favorite rocking chair.”
Lucille hugged the girl, turning her away from the carnage. Nearby, Sam just stood immobile, shaking. The fake smile was still plastered to his face, but his eyes were burning with the helpless anger of someone powerless to do anything.
“Found something.” One of the men walked outside, holding a copper coin up to the sun. “It was hidden under the floorboards.”
“No!” cried Sam, finally speaking as he rushed forward and fell at the man’s feet. “That was going to finance my daughter’s wedding dowry!”
“Well, now it will finance a meal for one of our brave soldiers,” replied Poofy Pants as he and the knights mounted back onto their horses and prepared to leave. “Your King thanks you for your donation.”
“Now wait just a cotton pickin’ minute,” I retorted, stalking in front of the horses and crossing my arms defiantly. I had tried to use old speech to mimic how everyone else had been talking, but I think I may have used a southernism by mistake. From then on, I swore to myself that I would mentally translate all future conversations into 21st-century slang, if for no other reason than my own sanity and that of the reader.
Poofy Pants narrowed his eyes in annoyance, staring down at me from atop his horse. “Step aside, girl, before I arrest you on the charge of showing a sinful amount of ankle.” I stared down at my shorts; those were definitely ankles down there, but I liked to think I dressed pretty modestly by my own time’s standards.
I glared back up at Poofy Pants, trying to mimic his condescending stare. I knew I shouldn’t antagonize a group of well-armed royal knights, but I’d been having a rough day and had a lot of pent-up stress and sassiness I needed to let out. Plus, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing while Lucille and her family were getting bullied. Honestly, this was a lot like Act 3 Scene 4 of Hamlet when Princess Hamela and Gravy Train had to, focus Piper! Now is not the time for theater!
“Look at these people,” I said, motioning to Sam and Lucille, “they barely own a thing; you can’t just ride over here and steal their livelihood.”
“It’s not stealing,” replied Poofy Pants with a huff, “it’s taxation.”
“Yeah, well, where I come from, that’s basically the same thing.”
Poofy Pants drew a sword from his side, the knights following his example. “That’s a strange outfit and dialect you have,” he replied, his voice suddenly acquiring a dangerous edge, “what part of the kingdom are you from?”
I took several nervous steps back; those were some very sharp-looking swords. “Uh, North Carolina?”
The men conferred amongst themselves. “The Land of Northern Carolinas?” asked one.
“Never heard of it,” replied another.
“She’s probably a spy from an enemy kingdom.” quipped a third.
Oops, you didn’t have to be a genius to see where this conversation was heading. Maybe I should’ve said I was from Ye Olde Fishing Hamlet; that seemed more appropriate for the time period.
My back started to vibrate, causing me to jump in surprise. A moment later, I realized I wasn’t the one vibrating; it was my backpack.
“Piper?!” called out a muffled but familiar-sounding voice from within my bag, “Piper, can you hear me?!”
I nearly tap-danced with joy; that was Gerard talking! In front of me, Poofy Pants and his men practically leaped out of their saddles upon hearing my cousin.
“Where is that voice coming from?” asked Poofy Pants, eyes darting around as he raised his sword defensively.
“Not now, busy,” I said as I sat cross-legged and opened my backpack. Inside, my laptop was vibrating just like a cell phone.
“Piper?” repeated Gerard’s voice. “Piper? Please pick up as soon as possible; my roaming fees are out of this world.”
I flipped open my laptop and was met with Gerard’s frowning face. We both lit up as soon as we saw each other! “Piper, you’re alive!” my cousin exclaimed.
“And you’re slightly singed,” I replied, noting a fine layer of soot covering his face and the surrounding science lab.
“The time machine may or may not have exploded after it malfunctioned,” he said, rubbing at his face to clean it but only managing to stir the soot around. “First off, shame on you for messing with my time machine.”
I blushed and rubbed the back of my neck, “Sorry about that,” I mumbled, genuinely remorseful, “I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”
Gerard sighed in annoyance but gave me a small smile, “I could go on a long rant about responsibility and other boring adult stuff, but the most important thing is that you’re okay.”
I smiled back; I really did have the best cousin ever.
Gerard clapped his hands together, suddenly businesslike. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re lost in time somewhere, and I gotta save you.”
I nodded, eager to return home as soon as possible but also concerned by what Gerard had said. “Did you say the time machine exploded?”
Gerard walked over to the science lab whiteboard. He quickly scribbled some equations onto it, his entire body tensed with concentration. “Yeah, but I can fix it. I may have to skip a few of my workouts to get it done,” he said, hands a blur as he wrote, “but I can probably have the time machine up and running again in just a few days.”
I exhaled; that was a relief. Being lost in time wasn’t exactly on my bucket list, but I could rough things out for a few days. Worst-case scenario, maybe Lucille and Sam would let me crash with them if I offered to help shuck corn or split firewood.
“But before I can start the search and rescue,” continued Gerard, returning to his laptop and staring at me through the camera, “when exactly are you?”
I smirked, “Don’t you mean, when am I–” Ah, drat, he beat me to it.
I turned the laptop around to give Gerard a good look at my surroundings. I made sure he saw the wooden house, Sam and Lucille, the armored knights, and Poofy Pants’ ridiculous outfit. As I turned the computer around, everyone jumped in fear when they saw Gerard onscreen.
“Maker, protect us!” cried Poofy Pants, crossing himself, “that man’s been shrunk down and trapped inside some kind of magical rectangle!”
Gerard gave Poofy Pants a friendly wave. “Sup?”
Everyone yelped in fear. Poofy Pants’ horse, practically jumped in the air. Sam and Lucille grabbed their children and rushed back into their home, slamming the wooden door shut behind them.
My cousin scratched his chin in thought as he surveyed the environment. “So judging by the reaction of your new friends and their outfits, I’d hazard a guess that you’re probably in the past, maybe somewhere in the middle ages.”
I nodded; I’d been starting to suspect that as soon as Sam had mentioned the King’s Royal Knights. “So I’ll hang out with the locals the next couple of days,” I replied, turning the laptop’s camera back towards me, “and once you get the time machine fixed, you can come rescue me?”
Gerard frowned, “Unfortunately, Piper, I don’t think it’ll be quite that easy.”
Of course there’d be a complication. “What do you mean?”
“Do you know how long the Middle Ages lasted?”
I thought back to history class. I remembered one of my teachers doing a lesson on the time period, but I’d been mentally preoccupied with theater stuff and hadn’t exactly been paying attention. “I’m pretty sure it’s in the middle of history,” I replied lamely.
“It lasted from around 460 A.D. to 1400 A.D.”
“Oh, that’s a lot of time to cover.”
He nodded gravely, “And since the time machine was destroyed, all of its travel logs went up in flames, too; I don’t have the date and time for when or where you were sent.”
“Meaning?” I asked, not liking where this was going.
“Meaning, I’m going to have to search through 1,000 years of history to find you.”
Oops, that panic attack I’d suppressed earlier wasn’t feeling so suppressed anymore. And now both my eyes were twitching; that was new.
“Fortunately, your genius cousin already has a solution,” continued Gerard, flashing a reassuring smile. “Just activate the S.O.S. beacon I installed on your computer, and it can do the searching for us.”
I felt my shoulders relax, not realizing how tense I’d been. Okay, I wasn’t going to die in the past, fantastic, but immediately, I felt a new question forming on my lips. “Wait, why did you install a time machine S.O.S. thingie on my laptop?”
I was surprised to see Gerard turn the slightest shade of pink. “Well, you’re my favorite cousin,” he mumbled into his chest. “If you ever got in trouble no matter where or when, I wanted to make sure I could find you.”
“Oh wow, that’s like super sweet!” Gerard turned crimson at my compliment. If we hadn’t been separated by potentially hundreds to thousands of years of time and space, I would’ve given him a massive hug. “So how does this thing work?” I asked, pointing down at my laptop.
My cousin cleared his throat, seemingly grateful at the change in subject. “Just go to the search tab on your computer and search for time machine sos beacon thingy.”
I stared at him, he shrugged. “I’m an inventor, not a namer.”
I pulled up the program and launched it. A pixelated version of my face popped up onscreen. It spun around in a circle and yelled out S.O.S. while a chiptune song played in the background. Cute.
“It’s running,” I said.
“Great, now in order for me to lock onto your specific year and location, you’re gonna wanna let that thing run for at least a few hours–”
The screen flickered, and Gerard’s face disappeared; that couldn’t be good. “Gerard?”
His face popped back on the laptop’s display, but it was all warped and staticy. “Hello, Piper? Are you still there?”
I gripped the computer tightly, feeling the blood drain from my face. “Gerard, the computer’s acting weird; what’s wrong with it?”
“Hmm.” pondered Gerard, his image bouncing around the screen and his voice continuing to distort. “Either there’s something wrong with my program, which is unlikely, or it’s an issue with your computer. How long has it been since you charged the battery?”
I hovered over my computer’s battery icon, it showed 1% power. “Uh, not recently,” I admitted, my entire body suddenly feeling cold.
“No worries,” replied Gerard, his image now almost too dim to see. “Just plug your laptop into an outlet somewhere to charge it.”
“I’M IN THE MIDDLE AGES!”
“Oh, crud, brain fart,” said Gerard quickly, “let’s go with plan B then.”
“What’s plan B?!”
Gerard rushed back to the whiteboard to write more equations, his hands moving even faster than before. “Okay, so if the time machine takes 12 hours to charge between jumps, I can check two years of history every 24 hours. If I come to school on holidays and weekends, worst case scenario, I can go through the entire Middle Ages in about 500 days.”
I tried to keep myself from shaking. 500 days wasn’t great, but that was the worst-case scenario. For all I knew, Gerard could get really lucky and find me tomorrow.
“Of course, I could end up in the right year but on the wrong day. Like what if I showed up on the correct calendar year, but three months before you got sent back in time? If I was super thorough and took every single day of the year into account, at worst, I’d find you in about 365,000 days.”
Okay, that was significantly longer.
“Unless I also went to the wrong geographical location and had to go back through a third time, then it would take even longer to rescue you, and–”
“Gerard,” I pleaded, voice growing shrill, “enough with the math.”
He nodded, apologetic. The screen went completely black; Gerard’s voice the only indicator that my laptop was still working.
“I’ll find you, Piper, don’t worry! Just hang tight; you probably won’t die from smallpox. Also, be sure to boil the water before you drink it, oh, and make sure you don’t show your ankles to anyone; that would be super scandalous–”
The computer died.
I made a noise in the back of my throat that could have been a mix between a scream and a sob. I was stuck in the Middle Ages, all because I forgot to charge my stupid laptop.
I stood up, feeling like I was in a dream. Around me, Poofy Pants and the knights were still watching, mouths agape. I took a numb step forward; the horses they were riding took significant steps back.
“Hey, my computer died,” I said flatly, holding up the now useless piece of tech, “anyone got a spare charger I can borrow?”
The knights looked at each other and back to me.
“That was magic she was casting!” shouted Poofy Pants, finger pointed at me, “grab her before she turns us all into toads!”
I cocked my head to the side. “Magic? Haven’t you ever seen a Skype call?”
Of course, they hadn’t; we were in the middle ages, and before I could think of any more quips, the six men dismounted their horses and rushed me.