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When they'd done what they could, Francisco noticed that her face had closed in a dark, shuttered look that hurt to witness. "Who are you?" Her voice was low, hard.
"Francisco Valdez. Major in the U.S. Army Surgeons' Corps. And currently, a prisoner scared half out of my wits."
Her eyes widened just slightly, then her glance darted over to Nelson. Then rested briefly on Lucille and Janet in turn before returning to him.
Francisco said as steadily as he could, "I owe you my life, by the way. They were in the process of shooting me when you came sprawling through that portal so abruptly."
She studied him. He held her gaze. She seemed to notice for the first time the bruises and cuts on his own face.
"I'm sorry. I thought..." She shook her head. "Never mind what I thought. I can see I was wrong. Where am I?"
"Alaska."
She eyed him warily. "When?"
Janet drew in a sharp breath. Whoever she was, this lady was quick.
"Um, about 28,000 b.c., I think. I haven't been here very long, either."
She didn't even blink. "Wonderful. That puts us, what, right in the middle of the last Pleistocene glacial?"
Janet whistled appreciatively. "More or less. You, um, do this sort of thing often?"
She gave Janet a sharp stare. Then laughed harshly. "No." She tried to sit up, then groaned, instead, and sagged back again. "Dammit..."
"Take it easy," Francisco cautioned. But he was careful not to restrain her with even a touch of his hand. "You'll be sore for a while, even with the Demerol I just gave you. If you move around too much, you'll break open those weals again."
She shot a venomous glare at Nelson's back. "If I live so long."
Lucille murmured, "Frank bought you some time. He convinced our guards Carreras will want to talk to you about Tony's death."
The young woman stared at Lucille, then shuddered and squeezed shut her eyes. "Great. Just peachy. Thanks a whole bunch. I think I'd rather have been shot."
"You've met Carreras?" Francisco asked.
She shook her head. "No. But somebody... really nice..." Tears squeezed out from beneath her closed lashes.
Francisco wondered what kind of horror it would take to reduce this very tough little lady to tears.
Lucille squeezed her shoulder gently. "Go ahead and cry, hon, it's all right to cry now... ."
Francisco felt helpless as the girl turned and sobbed in Lucille's arms. She clung to the older woman's blouse like a child and hid her face. Janet turned away, her own cheeks wet. Francisco rummaged through the contents of his bag, but found nothing remotely resembling a sedative. It was Demerol, surgical anesthetic, or nothing.
Francisco didn't want to waste the surgical supplies unless it were a dire emergency—like drugging the guards and finding out where they kept their recall device. Gradually the young woman's sobs quieted. She lay still in Lucille's arms for a while longer, then slowly pulled herself together again.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I hate snivelly women..."
Lucille dried the girl's face with a corner of the blanket and smiled warmly. "Somehow I don't think this qualifies as snivelling."
The uncertain look she gave Lucille tore at Francisco's heart.
"Who are all you people?" she asked, still sniffling. "And what are you doing in Alaska in 28,000 b.c.? Besides being hostages, I mean."
Lucy's eyes widened. "Good Lord, girl, you're quick for somebody in as much pain as you are."
The young woman shrugged it off, winced and found a more comfortable position. "You didn't answer my question."
"My name is Lucille Collins. You've met Frank. This is Janet Firelli. My son Da
Janet said harshly, "They took him outside to shoot him. Next thing we know, they're back with you. Then all hell sort of broke loose." She scowled at the guards. "That creep is Nelson. One of Carreras' men. They keep switching off our guards so none of 'em start sympathizing too much with us."
Nelson just grunted. Then stalked out of the room, bellowing for Joey. The slim girl watched him go through slitted eyes. "Yes. I've met him before, although I didn't know his name. He and Tony drugged me. They dropped me into a place and time I shouldn't have lived through." She shivered. "I got lucky."
Janet closed her hand over the girl's. "Our other guard, there, the one with the lump on his head, is Bill. We never know their last names. Anyway, Lucille hit him over the head with a chair during the confusion."
The girl stared at Lucille. Then gri
"Anyway," Lucille added, "Joey's up on the roof plugging the holes Nelson shot into it. Joey's our other guard."
"Well, that tells me who all of you are," she said, "but it doesn't answer why you're hostages. Unless, of course, idiot, it's got to do with the time travel thing Carreras is into, doesn't it? Why you people, specifically?"
Everybody hesitated.
Lucille finally said, "Yes, we're hostages. My husband is the chief military officer and engineer on a classified project. Carreras runs it now. Janet's mother and Zac's grandfather are the head physicists."
"I wondered about that," she mused. "So did..." She paled. "Never mind."
Francisco wondered who had died. And why she seemed to want to keep that person's identity secret.
"My name's Sibyl," she said at length. "Sibyl Johnson. Tony Bartlett... Well, I'm not sure if that was his real last name or not, since Interpol couldn't trace it. He used me as a scapegoat to steal some antiquities from a dig at Herculaneum, one of the cities Vesuvius buried in a.d. 79."
Francisco's blood chilled. "That's what blasted through the portal?"
She nodded grimly. "I was a graduate student in anthropology. Tony used me as a front to locate the stuff in the present, then kidnapped me and used me as payment to buy the stuff in the past. Then left me to die."
"So you're the one who stabbed him?" Francisco asked quietly.
She stared.
"He came through with you, on a horse. You crawled off to the side and got clear. He went down right in the middle of it. He didn't live long."
Unholy joy lit her green eyes.
Francisco looked away. "It wasn't a pretty sight."
Her voice was icy. "I hope he died hard. Real hard."
"He did. He was still alive when we got to him."
She turned her face away. "Sorry if it shocks you," she muttered.
Unexpectedly, Lucille said, "Don't apologize. And it doesn't shock me."
Sibyl groped for and squeezed her hand. Janet reached out and squeezed her shoulder in silent support.
Francisco decided the time was right to go check on Da
God help Carreras if those three ever got hold of him. Given his own near brush with death, that was something he'd give a great deal to see.