Don’t be so foolish as to imagine I don’t know what awaited me on my return. The endless physical and metal evaluations and tests to determine the effects time travel has on the human body. Do not; I repeat, Do Not do that to my brother. Any tests performed on him had better be related to his care and speedy recovery and nothing without his consent.
I have no idea if my actions here have changed the future, but I’d be willing to bet you do. Believe me when I tell you if anything happens to him, or he is not returned quickly and in good health I will wreak havoc. Mess with me and I promise I will make you sorry you were ever born, or it’s possible I can arrange for you to not be born, if you get my meaning. Mead is a good man, with a good heart, not a specimen to be studied.
I harbor no ill will toward you, Cara, but I know that your work is the most important thing in your life. For me, people I’ve come to care about are my priority, and Mead is part of that group. Take good care of him and I’ll be eternally grateful both for that and the opportunity to find my place in the world. I will return to this spot in two weeks for an update on Mead’s condition and an expected date of return. Don’t let me down.
Morgan
Shaky legs carriedher to her husband’s side where she silently handed him the letter. Kneeling down she began to speak quietly with Mead as she waited for Witt to read it. When he finished she stood.
“What do you want to do?” she asked, looking up into his eyes.
“Get him out of here,” he replied decisively as Mead looked from one to the other.
“How?”
“It’s early. No one knows about Morgan’s expected return but us. Go and get a lab coat, the extra badge out of my desk and the visitor wheelchair from the storage room. I’ll take him to your office, and we’ll hide this chair away. Relax, sweetheart. We can walk right out of here and past security if we hurry.”
Cara took off at a run, skidding to a stop at the door to peek out.
“Stop,” Witt scolded, “before you fall in those heels. Is it clear?” he asked.
Cara nodded after peering into the wide hallway and held the door open, each of them going in opposite directions. Three minutes later she met him in her office, out of breath but she had the chair, coat, and badge. Quickly they helped Mead stand, slipped the coat on him, and placed the badge over his neck facing his chest before getting him into the modern wheelchair.
Grabbing the old chair, Cara struggled to stuff it in her closet, cursing when it gave her trouble.
“Excuse me,” Witt sighed, as he walked over to his wife and cracked her crisply on the ass. As soon as she sprang upright with a gasp releasing the chair, he maneuvered it into the room, pulling several hanging coats in front of it and closed and locked the door.
Cara’s face bloomed with color as she glared at him, rubbing her bottom.
“Got everything?” he asked.
Grabbing her purse, she nodded and went to the door, checking the hall once again. In less than ten minutes they were helping Mead into the back seat of Witt’s Escalade. Security had merely looked up and nodded, smiling as they passed the main desk with no problems, one officer even holding the outer door open for them.
“This isn’t leaving the ground is it?” Mead asked, gripping the door handle.
“No. I guess you would consider this a horseless carriage. It doesn’t fly, but it does go very fast and is the most common form of transportation. Please don’t be alarmed,” Witt said kindly. “I want to get you away from here as quickly as possible.”
Backing out of his reserved spot, he drove slowly past the other government buildings in the secured area, giving a short wave to the guard as he raised the steel gate. As soon as they were clear he hit the gas, speeding away from the compound.
Nothing Morgan had toldhim could have prepared him for the reality before him. Other conveyances moved by them so quickly he could barely make out their shapes or colors. The interior of Witt’s carriage was dark, and Mead felt nary a bump in the road. The seat was comfortable and had the faint smell of a new saddle. He couldn’t hear what the other occupants were conversing about, but knew it concerned him. Forcing his white-knuckled grip on the door to relax, Mead quietly observed them.
Witt was obviously a relative. He was similar in build to both Morgan and Matthew and shared Mead’s and Morgan’s coloring and facial bone structure. Mead wondered if he was looking at his own great-great-great grandson, or Morgan’s. It wasn’t unusual for a man to name a second son after his own brother or for that to be carried down through generations.
Cara was lovely and seemed quite submissive to the man driving, not at all the fiercely independent woman Morgan described. That smack on her pert bottom was quite telling and Mead wondered what her relationship was to the man in authority, and Witt was obviously in charge.
They traveled at great speed as Mead took in everything he could about the area. Huge buildings that seemed to rise into the clouds gave way to houses of enormous proportions after they crossed a waterway on a bridge that appeared to be suspended in midair. Continuing on they finally came to a spacious estate. Witt turned onto a long road, lined with trees that took them to an ornate metal gate. With the touch of his finger the glass partition that separated their carriage from the elements disappeared into the door. After fiddling with a metal box of some sort the gates swung open, allowing them entrance and closed behind them.
“I’m sorry we weren’t able to explain things to you, Mead. Time is of the essence at the moment and the faster we can get you safely inside, the better I’ll feel. It seems my wife here,” he said meaningfully as he glanced at Cara, “failed to inform me of the situation. Although to be fair, she was expecting your brother. Given your injuries and our limited time to deal with them, there probably won’t be a lot of sightseeing, but we’ll try to make your stay as pleasant and informative as possible. I hope you’ll understand.”
“I understand your dilemma, Dr. Whittaker, and I’m beholden to you and your wife. Women in my time aren’t always forthright either, especially if it means they’ll be answering to an irate husband. I’m engaged myself, and I can tell you my Lilly isn’t always completely honest with me. When the need arises, I have no alternative but to show her there are limits to my patience.”
“And just how do you do that?” Cara demanded, twisting in her seat.
“Why ma’am, I use the time-honored method of correcting a troublesome woman. I pull her over my knee and swat her bottom.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” she sniffed, spinning back around as they neared the end of the drive. “It seems some customs are also passed down from generation to generation. That happens to be one my husband inherited, unfortunately. Tell me, how is Morgan and what’s his interest in Miss Walker?”
“He’s well,” Mead replied absently as he watched a huge wall swing upward, revealing a carriage house that contained other conveyances. Moving forward they came to a stop inside and the wall closed behind them. “Amazing,” he murmured.
