The Time Travelers' Club: Chapter 42 -- Trying to Run

Clouds moved across the moon.  Sam raced down the foggy alley towards the only source of light -- a lamppost with a flickering gas flame.   Illuminating only a small area, Sam could make out the red brick walls and the muddy stone sidewalk underfoot.  Grabbing the cold metal lamppost, he peered into pitch blackness behind and in front of him.  Wiping away sweat from his forehead, Sam listened for footsteps.

Without warning, a cobalt orb flew towards him striking the lamppost just above his head.  Kwack!  The orb shattered into shooting flares.  Sam fell to the ground rolling away, but still felt its hot cinders as they fell on his bare arms.

"I’m coming to get you Sammy!"  A deep ominous voice echoed and hissed from nowhere yet everywhere.  Wide-eyed, Sam jumped up running into the darkness with his hands out in front of him feeling for anything.

"You can runnnnn… but you won’t get farrrrr…"  The sinister voice boomed again.  "Tryyy to run Sammy boy… I’m gonna get youuu…  Hehe hehe hehe... Gonna get you... Gonna get youuuuu..."

Sam ran as fast as he could despite the fact he couldn’t see in the dark.   He had to get away from his unseen assailant.  Just as he slowed a little, with his hands out in front, feeling for something, a bright cobalt blue orb flew past him on the left.  Another one whizzed by him on the right barely missing his hand, disappearing into the darkness. Then one sailed close to his left arm.  The last one smashed into a wall sending sparks everywhere.

For a brief moment, Sam could see the brick walls on both sides and above.  He was in a covered passageway.  Coming to a dead stop, Sam circled in place trying to feel something.  

There’s got to be a door or a window… Wait…  I feel something… a wall… bricks… rough bricks...

He felt his way along the brick wall until he felt something soft and woolly.   In the darkness, rough hands grabbed Sam's wrists.  Sam screamed.

"Now, I’ve got you, Sammmmy boy…" hissed the voice echoing in a multitude of directions in the darkness.  Foul breath filled Sam's nostrils, making him nauseous.  Clinching his eyes shut and trying not to be sick, Sam struggled, trying to release himself from the strong hands of his unseen captor.

"Let me go!" yelled Sam. "Let me go!"

"You’re not getting away from me thissss time…  I’m gonna break youuuu…"

"Stop it! Stop it! Let me go!"  Struggling, Sam cried out into the darkness. "Help me! Someone… Help me!"  Tears rolling down his cheeks, he felt helpless.  From behind him, a boney hand reached around and covered his mouth while another wrapped around his stomach like a boa constrictor.

"Quiet… We mustn’t wake anyone…"  The voice whispered.  "We mustn't...  We mustn't... Besides it's too late for you..."

In the pitch black, Sam frantically struggled to free himself, but the strong hands held tight to his wrists.   Finally, the hand covering his mouth disappeared, only to be replaced with a foul tasting cloth being shoved into it.   He could feel a rope being wrapped around his wrists.  So tight the rope cut into this skin.  He could feel searing pain as it was tightened.

With a brisk push from behind, Sam fell to the ground, hitting the hard brick street with a thud.  Lying on the ground, an unseen foot rolled him on his back.  He looked up. He could see what looked like stars in clear sky.  Moonlight came from somewhere behind a rooftop.

Wait…  I thought I was in a tunnel...  I see moonlight… I can see moonlight.  Is that the sky?   No… No... it’s the ceiling fan…  Sam focused as he lay on the area rug on the floor next to his bed.  It’s just a nightmare…

The streetlamp’s light in front of the Steers' house shone on the ceiling fan in his room.   Moving slowly, Sam tried to sit up.  He had fallen onto the rug.  His tee-shirt was wrapped up around his mouth.   His blankets helped break the fall, but he had gotten his hands wrapped up in them.  His bed sheet was twisted and wrapped around him.   Sweat rolled down his forehead.  He was soaked with sweat again.

"Just a nightmare…" moaned Sam.

"Sam?"  Grandma Henry slowly pushed open the door.  Looking at him on the floor, she helped untangle him.  "You must have had some nightmare.  And your Mom must be dead to the world.  I don't think she stirred.  I heard something thud. Must have been you hitting the floor."

After freeing him from the knotted mess, he changed into clean pajamas, while Grandma Henry put on clean bedding. Sam crawled back under the covers.  The clock’s red numbers glowed 3:15 a.m.   Within a few moments, he fell asleep and Grandma Henry snuggled back under her covers on the living room sofa.

The next morning, barely awake, Sam dragged himself from bed.  The clock glowed 7:04 a.m.  It was a cloudy Sunday morning.  Snow flew past his window.

Sitting on the side of the bed, he cleared the nightmare from his head, only to have them replaced by the mysterious meeting with his deceased Dad in the alley.   He mulled the spiritual visit and contemplated what he had seen and heard.  His Dad's advice about enjoying life's adventures repeated in his mind.

Sam cried a little, trying to wrap his mind around the experience.  He wondered why Mrs. Steers didn't want to know.  Or at least why she didn't want him to talk about it.  That's what he really wanted to do -- talk about it.  He wanted more answers from her. More information about time-travel and the whole club.

"Good morning, Sam," said Grandma Henry, slowly pushing his door open.  "Feeling better?"

Sam barely nodded, ready to fall back into bed.

"Why don't you go back to sleep?"  She kissed him on the cheek, helped him back into bed, and pulled the door shut behind her.

Sam slept for most of the day, waking for short periods of time.  Emily eventually went to work while Grandma Henry stayed with him.