Page 19 of No Place in Time

FINN

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Finn returned to the barn with three wizened apples, the result of a morning spent foraging. His legs ached. His patience was worn thin from another night on damp straw. Three days of this, of watching the roads, of feeling hunger as a constant, dull ache.

Cecily was still asleep, wrapped in her shawl. He watched the slow, even rise and fall of her breath. Her hair had come loose again during the night, as it always did. She hadn’t complained since the first night. She simply ate what he found and kept walking. Thinking of his father, the man she’d fled, brought a familiar, useless anger.

What a foolish girl, to run with nothing. And yet, what courage. She’s not cut out for this kind of life. She’s never gone this long without a proper bath, or eaten half-rotten food just to exist, or slept in cold, damp barns.

He watched her breathe, slow and even. No, she wasn’t born for this life, but neither was she cut out to marry the likes of his father. Just the thought of it made his jaw tighten and his breath quicken. She’d risked everything to escape him.

He cleared his throat. “Wake up,” he said, kicking lightly at her booted foot. “Hey, brat. Get up.”

She stirred, blinked, then pushed herself upright. “Finn. Where…?” She looked around at her surroundings. “Oh.”

He held out some bread and cheese. “Eat.”

She didn’t ask where it came from. She didn’t ask how hard it had been to find—or steal. She took it with a quiet thank-you and ate carefully, as if aware that every bite mattered.

Finn slung the empty sack over his shoulder when they finished. “We’re heading back to Graston.”

“To get the machine?”

“Yes.”

“And then?”

“And then we move on.”

She hesitated. “Where?”

“I don’t know,” was all he said.

∞∞∞

They reached the burned-out building in Graston before midday. What remained of it stood like a hollowed shell, with blackened beams, a collapsed roof, stone walls scorched and cracked. Finn slowed as they approached, every sense alert.

Someone had been there.

The door still hung crooked, one hinge torn loose. Inside, the machine sat where they’d dragged it days earlier, but someone had disturbed parts of the casing. Scratches marred the iron. A panel lay pried open.

Finn swore under his breath.

Just then, two men emerged from the back room, scavengers by their look. One moved toward the machine. The other stood at the door, watching the road. Cecily backed away toward the corner of the room.

Finn was already moving.

The man nearest the machine looked up just as Finn charged. There was no warning, just impact. Finn slammed into him shoulder-first, driving him back against the scorched wall. The clang of metal sounded as the man’s knife skidded from his grip and clattered across the floor.

The second man lunged from behind.

Finn twisted, barely escaping the blade. When he was free, he pulled out his own knife.

“Get out!” Finn shouted to Cecily. She didn’t move.

One man scrambled for the fallen blade. Finn kicked it aside and brought his knife up, slashing. The man hissed and staggered back, clutching his forearm.

Behind him, the other man rushed Cecily.