Time Travelers Never Die Part 10

He lurched out directly in front of an oncoming sedan. The driver plowed into him, then then hit the brakes. People screamed and brakes screeched. The car dragged him about twenty feet. It left him crumpled and moaning near the curb. hit the brakes. People screamed and brakes screeched. The car dragged him about twenty feet. It left him crumpled and moaning near the curb.

Somebody ran into the street waving at the traffic to stop. A couple of people hurried to the victim's aid.

"Who is it?" Dave was out of patience.

Shel sighed. "Winston Churchill."

THEIR view was blocked by the crowd. Horns blared. The driver got out and ran back, bleating that he didn't mean it, he was sorry. "Are you all right?" he demanded of the victim. His voice rose over the crowd in a wail. Within minutes they heard sirens, and a police car arrived. One officer got out and ran to a call box. His partner took charge of traffic, allowing only one lane to move at a time. view was blocked by the crowd. Horns blared. The driver got out and ran back, bleating that he didn't mean it, he was sorry. "Are you all right?" he demanded of the victim. His voice rose over the crowd in a wail. Within minutes they heard sirens, and a police car arrived. One officer got out and ran to a call box. His partner took charge of traffic, allowing only one lane to move at a time.

A second police car pulled up. One of the officers hurried toward the victim while the other tried to push the crowd back. And, finally, an ambulance. Medical people, ambulance attendants, whatever they called them in 1931. They jumped out, examined the fallen Churchill, and after a few minutes they lifted him carefully onto a stretcher. They spoke briefly with one of the officers, then put him into the ambulance. Two of the attendants got in with him and, escorted by a police cruiser, it left.

"You knew it was going to happen," Dave said.

"Sure."

"Why didn't we stop it?"

"That's what my father was concerned about. That somebody would meddle somewhere and create a problem."

"Like how? Churchill survived. What could we have changed?"

"Probably nothing. But we don't really know. Anyway, no harm was done."

"No harm? He looked as if he'd broken something."

"Two cracked ribs and a scalp wound. I think he develops pleurisy later because of this. But he was lucky. In any case, we know the accident happened. If we'd tried to prevent it-"

"-We get heart attacks-"

Shel shrugged. "I don't know."

They stood quietly watching the remaining policemen interviewing the driver and a bystander. "So we just watch," said Dave. "We can go back to Dealey Plaza, but we can't do anything. Shel, I don't think I'm going to care much for this line of work."

"Dave, I thought you'd react that way. So let's do something."

"What? What can we possibly do now?"

They walked back to 76th Street, looking for a cab. It took a few minutes, but one finally pulled over. "Driver," Shel said, "Lenox Hill Hospital, please."

"What are we going to do? Get him some flowers?"

"You're a hard man, David."

Dave closed his eyes and sank back in the seat. "Why are we going to the hospital? That is is the one they're taking him to, right?" the one they're taking him to, right?"

"Yes." He fished some bills out of his pocket. "We're going to do a good deed."

THE taxi let them off in front of the emergency room. They went inside, where the injured Churchill sat in a clunky-looking wheelchair at a reception counter. A middle-aged woman was doing paperwork for another patient. Seven or eight other people were in the waiting room. taxi let them off in front of the emergency room. They went inside, where the injured Churchill sat in a clunky-looking wheelchair at a reception counter. A middle-aged woman was doing paperwork for another patient. Seven or eight other people were in the waiting room.

"We're not going to tell him who we are, are we?" asked Dave.

"No. No, that wouldn't be a good idea."

Churchill was obviously in pain. A male attendant stood beside him.

The receptionist completed some paperwork and, finally, it was his turn. She took a piece of paper out of a stack and turned in his direction. "Name, please."

"Winston Churchill," he said in a barely discernible voice.

"Address?"

"I'm a British statesman."

She looked up from the form. "I see. Do you have an address in the United States, Mr., um, Churchill?"

"Use the British consulate."

Patiently: "What is their their address, please?" address, please?"

"I really do not know, madam." Churchill tried to get more comfortable, but twisted something and cried out.

"Be careful, sir," she said. "Try not to move around too much."

He cleared his throat. "Madam, I was injured out there this evening. I'm in considerable pain. Would it be possible to administer something to alleviate my situation? Perhaps some chloroform?"

"We'll try to help you, Mr. Churchill. How do you wish to pay?"

"Can't we settle that later?"

"I'm sorry, sir. But we require payment in advance."

With his teeth clenched, Churchill fumbled in his pockets. Came out with a few dollars. "How much did you want?"

The receptionist glanced at the money. "Mr. Churchill, this is insufficient."

"All right," he said. "Call the Waldorf. My wife is there. She'll bring some money over."

Shel turned to Dave and handed him a wad of bills. "You do it," he said.

Marvelous. He took the money, whispered thanks to Shel, and strode to the counter. "Mr. Churchill," he said, "I'd like to help, if I may." He held the bills up for the receptionist to see. "Please get some a.s.sistance for this gentleman. Quickly."

Churchill's eyes looked up at him. And for the first time, Dave saw saw the future prime minister. "Why, thank you, sir," he said. The voice was a shadow of the one Dave remembered from the World War II audios. The one that challenged Hitler and spoke to the world in its darkest moment. "I am in your debt, sir." the future prime minister. "Why, thank you, sir," he said. The voice was a shadow of the one Dave remembered from the World War II audios. The one that challenged Hitler and spoke to the world in its darkest moment. "I am in your debt, sir."

"I think we are in yours, Mr. Churchill."

CHAPTER 8.

It cannot be maintained that dressing has in this or any country risen to the dignity of an art. At present men make s.h.i.+ft to wear what they can get. Like s.h.i.+pwrecked sailors, they put on what they can find on the beach, and at a little distance, whether of s.p.a.ce or time, laugh at each other's masquerade.

-HENRY DAVID Th.o.r.eAU, WALDEN WALDEN

THE converter brought them back to David's house, six seconds after departure. It was still just before nine Sat.u.r.day morning. converter brought them back to David's house, six seconds after departure. It was still just before nine Sat.u.r.day morning.

"Thanks, Dave," said Shel. "I appreciate your coming."

Dave was still having a problem grasping what had happened. "My G.o.d," he said, "are you serious? I still don't believe it."

"I know. I doubt you'll ever get used to it." He held out his hand for the converter, which was still attached to Dave's belt.

"You don't want me to hold on to it?"

"It wouldn't be a good idea, Dave."

"I wouldn't lose it."

"Dave."

"Or misuse it."

"Not a good idea. Not that I don't trust you, but-"

"Okay." He unclipped it and handed it over. "When are you going after your father?"

"I want to give it a little time. No point in my going back there if I can't speak Italian."

"Maybe you should try Ben Franklin first."

"I think Galileo's our best bet."

"Okay. You'll have to take some language lessons."

"That's the plan."

"Good. Now, when you've done that, and you're ready to go-"

"Yes?"

"I'm invited, right?"

"Of course. It's why I came. You will will come-" come-"

"Sure."

"Okay. I'll call you when I'm ready." He started for the door.

"Shel, one more question. What happens if we materialize in midair? Does the thing always set you on the ground?"

"It wasn't something I thought to ask. We can put it to him when we find him." He opened the door. Paused. "Dave, thanks."

"Sure."

"And don't forget: Tell n.o.body, right?"

"Absolutely."

"It won't be easy. I want to talk about this to everybody I know."

"I hear you. That was once in a lifetime out there tonight."

SHEL was dead right. Dave wanted to call everybody. Old friends, his folks, his occasional girlfriend Katie Gibson, the guys on his bowling team, his department chairman at the university. Listen, Professor, you won't believe this, but guess where I was earlier today. Or no, that wasn't quite correct. Guess where I was one night in 1931, well before you were born. And who I talked to. was dead right. Dave wanted to call everybody. Old friends, his folks, his occasional girlfriend Katie Gibson, the guys on his bowling team, his department chairman at the university. Listen, Professor, you won't believe this, but guess where I was earlier today. Or no, that wasn't quite correct. Guess where I was one night in 1931, well before you were born. And who I talked to.

He should have brought something back. And remembered that he had. He reached into his pants pocket and retrieved it: a receipt from Lenox Hill Hospital for an amount that would barely pay a decent restaurant tab today. Dated December 13, 1931.

Looking as if it had been issued within the last hour.

Tomorrow he'd buy a frame. That baby was going to hang over his desk.

He should have tried to get Churchill to initial it. Should have taken some pictures.

Had he recalled Helen, he'd have realized he still had plenty of time to try for his accidental meeting with her at the Serendip. But she never entered his mind.

IT was almost impossible to get through his Monday cla.s.ses. Latin 311 was reading Plutarch, the lives of Demosthenes and Cicero, and Dave couldn't resist himself. "Try to imagine what it would be like," he told his thirteen students, "if we could go back to cla.s.sical Greece for an afternoon and join the crowd listening to Demosthenes. We'd hear a great orator persuading the Athenians to make war on Alexander. They lost, of course. And what's the lesson, Jim?" was almost impossible to get through his Monday cla.s.ses. Latin 311 was reading Plutarch, the lives of Demosthenes and Cicero, and Dave couldn't resist himself. "Try to imagine what it would be like," he told his thirteen students, "if we could go back to cla.s.sical Greece for an afternoon and join the crowd listening to Demosthenes. We'd hear a great orator persuading the Athenians to make war on Alexander. They lost, of course. And what's the lesson, Jim?"

Jim laughed. "Just because somebody is articulate doesn't mean he makes sense."

That was as close as he got to telling them the truth, but it was a near thing. He wanted desperately to let them know that it really was was possible to travel in time. No: more than that. That possible to travel in time. No: more than that. That he he had walked across to another century. That he had had walked across to another century. That he had done done it. Gone to another time. And he, by G.o.d, had the receipt from the Lenox Hill Hospital to prove it. it. Gone to another time. And he, by G.o.d, had the receipt from the Lenox Hill Hospital to prove it.

Hardest for him was sitting in the department meeting two days later, listening to Larry Stevens, unctuous, self-i mportant, always going on about his latest linguistic conclusions. The evolution of the German verb arbeiten arbeiten, whose earlier forms, it seemed, had appeared farther back than anyone had realized. "Think what that means."

n.o.body ever ate lunch with Larry.

And Dave would have loved to point out that, if it really mattered, he could take Larry into a second-century Bavarian forest, where they could settle the business about the German verb once and for all.