Saberhagen, Fred - Dracula 07 by A Question of Time

Author:A Question of Time
Language: eng
Format: epub

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He hiked on, entering a portion of the rim-trail that took him briefly back in among the pine and cedar, out of sight of El Tovar and its attendant marvels. During this interval he managed to convince himself, despite the continuing warmness of the air, that he had really managed to find his way back to the mundane world he had left last night, in late December of 1991.

But in a few moments the trail brought him out of the woods again. There, unarguably there, was El Tovar— but, disturbingly, it really was a smaller version of the hotel he thought he could remember from last night.

All Bill could do was push ahead.

He passed, and recognized, the Bright Angel trail-head, though the fences here looked different than the fences he'd passed last evening, and there were fewer guest cottages overlooking the Canyon than he seemed to remember.

Moments later, Bill arrived at the Tyrrell House.

It was a warm day, yes, all right, a summer afternoon—with the sun threatening to set much too far to the north for December—but Bill didn't want to think about that just now—and he had first unzipped his jacket and then taken it off.

Some tourists, their numbers much diminished from those of yesterday—as Bill recalled yesterday—were moving toward Bill along the rim trail, which now ran at a somewhat greater distance from the house than he remembered. Today's sightseers, Bill had to admit, were dressed for summer. If he looked at them carefully, and allowed himself to think about what he saw, he would have to admit something much more disturbing. They were very strangely dressed indeed. You would have to say they were costumed like people out of his grandfather's photo album from the thirties… Some of them, who glanced at Bill, also appeared to be impressed by what they saw.

Bill turned his back on the costumed sightseers. His feet dragged to a stop in front of a building that had to be the Tyrrell House. No doubt about it, this was the same location, and the same house. He could recognize the familiar outlines of the structure, practically unchanged from yesterday evening.

But…

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Today the front door of old Edgar Tyrrell's dwelling stood ajar. From just inside, Bill could hear children's voices, toddlers it sounded like. At least a pair of them.

And the area just in front of the house was no longer paved with a Park Service sidewalk, as he was sure that it had been last night. Now there was only a little un-paved footpath worn in the hard earth, leading to the front door.

Even as Bill stood gazing at that door, it opened wider. Out came a young woman and a little girl of four years old or so, in toddler's overalls. The young woman was garbed in a thirties dress, and a wide-brimmed gardening hat.

The little girl, thought Bill, had remarkable eyes. Their soft blue-gray reminded him much, very much, of the eyes of the girl named Cathy whom he had just left.

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