Fugitive from Time by Philip E. High

Author:Philip E. High [High, Philip E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780575110533
Publisher: Orion Publishing Group
Published: 2011-09-28T23:00:00+00:00

Seven

I had concentrated on a park bench on which I often sat in summer and appeared right beside it.

It was, thank God, unoccupied, and strolling people did not appear to notice my sudden appearance.

The first thing I looked for was a policeman and I was relieved to see he wore the familiar uniform.

A car park produced two Mercedes, both with the reassuring three pointed star.

A minor purchase at a small shop confirmed the currency. This, without doubt, was Earth and not a near parallel copy on another time track.

I took a taxi to the station and twenty minutes later was on an express for the North.

I had no knowledge of my destination but this was where our agent was. Now I was here, it seemed simpler and far less frightening.

The city, when I reached it, however, was depressing. Despite stringent anti-pollution measures, the smoke of industrial foundries still seemed to cling to every building. The city was a steel centre and a hub of the automobile industry. The great chimneys no longer poured their murk into the sky but somehow the ghost of smog remained.

I found a small place to eat and, afterwards a barber, then I wandered into the street again, determined to stroll around.

My casual wandering lasted precisely three minutes. My train had arrived just after six in the morning and now, just over an hour later, the street was crowded. Traffic was nose-to-tail and everyone seemed bent on getting to work.

It was then I noticed the man standing on the pedestrian refuge in the middle of the street, waiting for an opportunity to cross.

He was quite an ordinary man, in fact a typical worker. He was burly, red-faced and carried a newspaper in his right hand.

A flask protruded from the right hand pocket of the shabby blue suit and a stub of cigarette adhered to his lower lip.

As I stared at him, however, he seemed to be surrounded by a curious sullen red aura. I knew the aura was subjective but I also knew what it meant – this wasn’t a man, it was a rend.

As I stared, he seemed to become aware of me. His expression changed from dull composure to anger and he made as if to risk the flow of traffic.

I didn’t wait to see if he made it. I turned and bolted up the nearest side street.

At the end of the street, was another main thoroughfare and I leapt on the back of a moving bus.

Fortunately the conductor caught me before I lost my balance.

“Suicidal bloody lunatic, ain’t yer?” he said.

Breathlessly I pushed a note into his hand. “Sorry.”

He nodded, only partially mollified. “You could ’ave slipped, following traffic would have gone right over yer. Seen it ’appen more’n once.”

He peered more closely at the note. “I was upset, see? Thought I was going to see it again. No offence.”

I waved the implied apology aside. “My fault entirely, damn stupid thing to do.”

I realised that I was speaking normally but inwardly I was shivering.

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