Chapter Eleven

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"Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up . . ." My muttering was barely discernable to my own ears as I stared out the tiny side window over the bed, watching a small boat with the captain on board row out to us. My fingernails dug into my palm painfully, drawing blood before I finally stopped. Biting my tongue yielded the same result. What was going on? "Okay, Sam," I said, speaking at a normal volume to try and calm myself. "Think. You've woken up on the beach and everyone is insisting it isn't the twenty first century. What explanations could there be for this?" The vessel outside was coming up alongside us, sliding out of my view. What if he remembered I was here? "One, I'm drowning and the lack of oxygen is causing me to have extreme hallucinations." My voice was a little shaky and my leg was burning, but I was keeping it together so far. "Two, you're dreaming. You spent too much time listening to Mark and his theories. Three, Mark is a jerk and is hiding somewhere waiting to laugh at me. Or, four—" Oak Isle sat across the water, but something was different about it. There was more to it than I'd ever noticed, like it was larger or something. The trees weren't the same as they'd been just a few hours ago. Most of all, I couldn't see any buildings on the mainland. It was like the entire city had disappeared. Every now and then, I thought I caught a glimpse of a little house, but my eyes were straining so hard I couldn't tell if they were really there or not. "You've really gone back in time."

How could I even think to add that as a rational option? Any moment now, something was going to show up—a plane in the sky, or a car—and everything would be okay. There was no need to entertain crazy ideas.

Then again, I'd just seen a man murdered. There was no denying that. He'd been shot almost right next to me, like it was no big deal at all. Was I being taken along because I was a witness? A troupe of actors commits a crime, so they take the only one who can recognize them with them? That seemed even crazier than going back in time for some reason.

On the other side of the door, I could hear muffled orders being shouted and scurrying footsteps going every which way overhead. The ocean rocked the ship gently, causing my stomach to turn slightly. Sighing, I abandoned my spot at the window and curled up in the corner on the bed, taking care to not bump my injured leg on anything. By the time night fell I'd be able to see lights on the shore. Then I could laugh at myself for thinking I'd gone back in time.

The door outside banged open and I flinched, wondering who was coming in—O'Rourke, or the rapist captain. Either way, I wasn't going to let either of them touch me without a fight. Thankfully, whoever it was went into the bedroom next door.

The next several hours were spent in the company of my growling stomach and the lip I repeatedly bit to try and wake myself up. As the sun started to set, the ship began sailing out to the open ocean and panic flooded me. Knowing that the captain was on board now made me too nervous to call out, though. Darkness enveloped us and, desperately, I searched for the lights on the distant shore. There was nothing there, not even a soft glow in the sky marking where civilization was.

Vaguely, I was aware of the door opening behind me, closing softly after whoever it was had entered.

"There's no lights," I croaked out.

"I expect anything but a bonfire wouldn't be seen from this far out to sea," O'Rourke stated, not moving from the entrance.

"Where are we going?" All of my energy was being put into not spiraling out of control. If there were no lights, there was no city. If there was no city then this couldn't be the twenty first century. I didn't know how I'd done it, or why for that matter, but I was lost in a different time.

"We'll be stopping at port in La Coruña, where ye'll be getting off, mind ye. If ye survive that long."

"Spain?" I turned away from the window, pushing myself into the corner once more without looking at him. "How long is that exactly?"

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