Mind whirling, Jenna asked blankly, “Where did you come from? How did you get here?”
The detective was pulling off a shabby black coat, which served to protect Jenna’s head from the cold, damp wind. When Jenna touched gingerly, she found rough, torn cloth tied as makeshift bandages. They were wet and sticky. Noah said, “Let me carry you again, kid. You’re just about done in from exhaustion and shock. I’ll get you someplace safe and warm as soon as I can.”
Jenna lay in a daze as Noah gently lifted her and started walking steadily eastward. “But—how—?”
“We came across from New York, of course. Hopped a train in Colorado and lost ourselves nice and thoroughly in Chicago and points east.” The detective’s voice darkened. “That down-timer kid from the station, Julius? He was disguised as you, Jenna, dressed in a calico skirt, wearing a wig.” Noah paused, eyes stricken in the light streaming from a nearby house window. “They shot him. My fault, dammit, I shouldn’t have let that kid out of my sight! I knew Sarnoff would follow us, I just didn’t figure he’d slip ahead and ambush the kid so fast. We got him back to the camp surgeon, but . . .”
“No . . .” Jenna whimpered, not wanting to hear.
“I’m sorry, Jenna. He didn’t make it. Poor bastard died before we could slip out of camp. I had a helluva time getting us out in the middle of the uproar, with Time Tours guides and the surgeon demanding to know exactly what had happened.”
Jenna’s vision wavered. “Oh, God . . .” She didn’t want to accept the truth. Not that nice kid, the down-timer she’d met in the basement under the Neo Edo hotel. Julius was younger than she was. . . . Her eyes burned and she nearly brought up more acid from her stomach as she fought not to sob aloud. How many people were going to die, trying to keep her alive?