Tripping over Time

Stores opened, buses pulled out and people filled the streets. Yet more importantly: someone tried to kill Jamie DeLane. She walked out of Mansfield High at precisely three o’clock as always; she was always eager to get home. Then again, what teenager isn’t eager to leave school the at the end of the day? Her friends walked with her until she turned to take her short cut through the alley, however she was met with a menacing stranger. An older woman who simply stood there as if having waited for Jamie’s arrival. Damnit, she thought fearfully as she saw the grungy man for the first time, why did the cliché horror scene have to happen to me?

“Good afternoon Jamie,” The woman said slowly; her smile was so wide-toothed and eerie it caused an unnatural chill to creep up her spine. She was leather-covered head to toe, both corset and pants, tattooed with burning roses on each upper arm. The woman looked like many bikers in Philadelphia. But her voice, Jamie could tell was foreign. Perhaps Italian or some other descent she could not place her finger on. In all of this contemplating, she of course missed the fact that the man knew her name.
“You know,” She continued, her boots clicking against the cement as she advanced, running a hand through her black curls, she hissed, “It’s rude to be so quiet and just stare,” When she moved closer Jamie backed up farther until she hit the alley-wall. She repeatedly attempted to respond, yet in her failure she began thinking the most random, irritating thoughts. Such as how the air smelled like rotting food and old man’s breath, how the floor was littered with garbage and decay; all sorts of things that were driving her mad. Especially at a time like this.

Finally Jamie uttered, “W-who are you?” Ah yes, of course she had to ask the dumb yet remarkably obvious question as if the truth would of course be the reply. She couldn’t help but stare at the woman’s face, scarred from what looked like a knife-fight or two. I’m never getting home alive.
Oddly enough, the woman started laughing as she reached for something not humorous at all: a gun. The forty-millimeter was now at hand, causing Jamie to gasp and turn to the left, attempting to run back towards her school. To her dismay she immediately held onto her shoulder with an arm like steel. Pointing the gun right at Jamie's forehead she shrugged, “I’m just the lucky girl who gets to finally put your bitch of a soul to rest,” Hearing the attacker load the gun, Jamie shut her eyes as if it was some sort of preparation.

Suddenly there was a loud, Whack! and then a thud as her assailant fell to the floor. Opening her eyes Jamie saw a new face. To her disappointment it was another stranger, meaning the life-threatening situation might not have been over. The other person had vanished. This one looked somewhat normal though the tattooed sleeves weren’t exactly regular. Of what she could read from the distance between them they were words in elegant script. With fear not yet out of reach she repeated her question to the new person, “Who are you?” She hoped he wasn’t another person trying to kill her.

“There is no time to explain, she’ll be back. All you need to know for now is that I’m the one keeping you alive,” Taking her hand the man led Jamie out of the alleyway and into a nearby cab. The cab smelled worse than the former location, and the driver looked like a thug. “Where to?” asked the driver as he coughed smoke into their faces. Jamie was about to give her home address when the man next to her replied, “Philadelphia Airport.” Immediately noticing his British accent Jamie thought to herself, great, first an Italian hit woman, now a mysterious Brit. What’s next?
Feeling some sort of newfound courage she turned to the man, “Listen, I’m grateful for you saving me, but why are we going to the local airport? Why can’t I go home and who the hell are you!”
The man shook his head, “Jamie I can’t explain yet; not here. All I can tell you is that I’m here to help. And my name is Thomas Wyatt.”

Thomas Wyatt. The name sounded vaguely familiar. Wracking her brain Jamie thought back a couple years to a project she did in ninth grade history class It was a research project on the British royal family the Tudors, involving a poet named…Thomas, Thomas Wyatt.
“So you’re named after the poet?” She guessed aloud, after all I wasn’t as if he could have been the original 15th century Englishman. Shaking his head he winced, “That answer would be included in the more detailed explanation. One that I am not ready to give.”

After another five minutes they reached the Philadelphia Airport. Thomas quickly paid the cabman and hurried Jamie inside. Stopping as soon as they entered, she grabbed him by the arm, “Okay we’re here now so start talking,” Even though he had saved her life and all, Jamie just wanted to go home. And she most certainly did not trust this new stranger any more than the last.
He arched an eyebrow, looking at her as if she were insane. His expression turned from dumbfounded to simply sad. “You don’t even recognize me do you Anne,” He stated with a sigh, glancing to the floor. Anne, not Jamie.

“Thomas that isn’t my name…” Suddenly she realized it, Thomas Wyatt. Anne…Anne Boleyn? The one who broke Wyatt’s heart? He obviously was delusional. “You can’t mean, no way Thomas. You must have hit your head or something…or escaped the local Asylum,”
Before he could answer, Thomas looked over Jamie’s shoulder, “Get down!” He shouted, pushing her to the ground. Crouching low she shut her eyes, wrapping her hands tightly about her torso. Moments later she heard gunshots, the ground shook as people either ducked down or ran screaming. She felt Thomas move in front of her as the gunshots continued. No, not again please not again. Finally, there was silence.

Jamie slowly opened her brown eyes, standing up she glanced at her surroundings. Most of the crowd had fled and those who remained were curled up on the floor. The check-in area was a disaster, there wasn’t a surface without bullet holes. She could hear the police sirens not too far away. “Thomas?” She called out, causing a few people to look up. As she scanned the room, she also managed to notice a few either wounded or dead security guards.

Thomas walked back in the room with both sweat and blood dripping from his brow. “She got away,” he stated in defeat, placing his gun back in its holster. Without even asking she knew who it was. The same woman who had attacked her earlier must have made a second attempt, but she still didn’t understand why he had even tried to make the first one.

“Are you going to explain to me what’s going on?” She demanded, glaring at him intently, “Because if you don’t I am not moving another step!” Thomas was about to answer when a policeman came in from behind him and knocked him over the head with a police club, causing him to crumble to the terminal’s floor.

Jamie screamed with surprise and attempted to run out of confusion, however a female officer grabbed her by the arms, “It’s alright you’re safe now. The kidnapper can’t hurt you anymore.” The officer said calmly to her. Jamie was confused. Kidnapper? Can’t hurt me anymore?

“But, he didn’t…” She was cut off as she heard Thomas, now obviously conscious, shout:

“I’m the only one who can answer your questions Anne! The Hunter will find you and kill you without my help. What’s it going to be?” Turning around she saw Thomas thrown into a police car and driven away.

Standing there, Jamie felt herself at a major crossroad. On the one hand she could just go home, do her homework, see her friends. Live her oh-so-normal and quaint life. But she knew that woman, the one he called “The Hunter” would be back. She might not have known Thomas all too well, and he could be insane, however he was definitely right about her assailant. Even Jamie could see that she wasn’t just a random target, especially after the woman had said, “I’m the one who finally gets to put your soul to rest.” Clearly it couldn’t be a coincidence.

So that ruled out going home. Yet she couldn’t see what was left either. Explain to the police that Thomas was from the 1500’s and somehow was supposed to protect her from a mysterious assassin? Oh yes Jamie could see how that conversation would go. She’d probably end up in a white-padded cell along with him! Nope, only one option, and oh how she hated it. Jamie was going to have to bust Sir Thomas Wyatt out of jail.