Time to Go
Alyssa
Heat envelops me, and my chest throbs, sharp and burning. My head feels like it’s splitting. I try to keep my eyes open and lift my head. Isaac sits in the chair beside me, asleep, his hands curled into a fists.
I try to move. Pain rips through my shoulder. I gasp, clutching it and tasting iron. The wound is wrapped in a bloody cloth, but I can feel the hole beneath, the bullet still lodged there.
Danielle’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Alyssa?” She runs to me, her eyes wide. “You’re awake. Stay still.”
“It hurts,” I whisper.
“I know,” she says, pressing her hand to my forehead, checking my fever. “We’re keeping the bleeding down. Try not to move.”
I force the words out. “The children… where are they? Who’s watching them?”
Henry steps forward. “Priscilla Mullins is looking after them. They’re safe.”
Danielle lifts a small bowl. “Drink a little broth, just enough to keep you awake.”
I sip, wincing, the dizzying fever crawling through me and turning my stomach over. My shoulder protests with every heartbeat.
“You’re awake,” Isaac says, stirring beside me. Relief floods his face, but fear lingers in his eyes.
Danielle tightens her fingers around mine. “Hold on. Breathe.”
“It hurts so badly,” I say. “I’m going to pass out again. Somebody needs to get me something stronger than broth.”
There’s a knock on the door, and Henry stands to open it.
I turn my head enough to see Moses Fletcher in the threshold. He steps carefully into the room, his eyes full of grief and guilt written across every line of his face. “Mistress Montgomery, I… I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened. When I fired, the ball went sideways. Tore up my gun and hit you at the same time. I….” His voice breaks. “I never meant to harm you, I swear.”
“It was just a mishap. I know that, and I forgive you.”
He swallows hard, still shaking. “Thank you, Mistress. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Mr. Fletcher, please, go find some of the Wampanoag people. Tell them I’m hurt, and please bring back Tekoa and Kesuk.”
He nods. “I’ll retrieve them.”
Henry stands. “I’ll accompany you.”
They leave, and I hear the door close behind them and try to focus on staying conscious. Danielle presses a cool cloth to my forehead. Isaac’s hand holds mine tight, warm against my clammy skin. I sip the water Danielle brings me, but the fever continues to gnaw away.
Danielle sighs. “I think it’s you who’s supposed to go back, Alyssa. You need medical attention, not me.”
I let out a shaky laugh, wincing against the pain. “You’re going to need medical attention when you have your baby.”
She shakes her head, her voice firm but gentle. “No. People have had babies without doctors for thousands of years. I’m going to be fine. When I have all of my babies, I’m going to be fine.”
I close my eyes, exhausted. “I… I think I’m supposed to stay in this time,” I whisper. “And you’re supposed to go home.”
She smiles, squeezing my hand. “Maybe you’re right,” she says. “Maybe you’re supposed to be here, but for now, just stay with me. Stay alive.”
My head spins. Pain and fever blur the edges of the room. Everything turns black.
I wake to the roar of rain against the windows, wind rattling the shutters, and the low rumble of thunder. My arm pulses, sharp and unrelenting, and the fever burns through me, making my head spin. I open my eyes, try to focus, and see Tekoa and Kesuk standing nearby, their faces grave.
“It’s time to go,” Tekoa says.
I frown, weak and confused. “Go where?”
Danielle slides onto the bed beside me, pressing a cool hand to my fevered forehead. “Alyssa, Kesuk says the great spirits are sending you back to our time.”
Isaac sits close, his face pale with worry, his eyes fixed on me.
I look at him, my heart hammering. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“I don’t want you to leave either, but you need to go where they can save your life,” he says, his voice quiet but certain.
Danielle leans closer, her eyes gleaming despite her worry. “Do you remember when we were in junior high, and we found those neat rocks in the cave? Remember where that was?”
I try to think through the haze, then a faint, bittersweet smile tugs at my lips. “Of course. Not too far from here, actually. At the bonfire on my grandfather’s land, in the mouth of the cave. You and I snuck into the cave, and they were just lying there.”
She smiles softly. “When you get back to 2025, you’ll go there. Dig down into the ground right at that spot. There will be a chest. I’ll write you a letter every single day for the rest of my life, so you’ll know how it all turned out.”
Reality hits me like a truck. I’m leaving my best friend since kindergarten in the seventeenth century. I’m going back alone and wounded. My stomach twists, fever and grief mixing.
Kesuk lifts her hands, chanting low and solemn in Wôpanâak. Tekoa translates: “Let the river of time open her mouth. Let the winding roads remember every name. One walks forward, one remains behind.”
I hear voices outside singing a chant in unison.
“The tribe has called the storm. The spirits have answered. It is time to go home,” Tekoa says.
Tears burn my eyes. I turn to Danielle, clutching her shoulders, memorizing her warmth, the sound of her voice, and the feel of her hair against my skin. “I don’t want to leave you,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
“I don’t want you to either, but you have to. I love you. I’ll love you forever.”
“I’ll love you forever, too.” I press my forehead to hers, my breath ragged. “Goodbye, Danielle.”
She grips me one last time, whispering, “Goodbye, Alyssa.”
Isaac lifts me carefully from the bed. My head falls against his chest, fever blurring my every thought. The wind howls outside. The door creaks open, and rain slashes through the air in sheets. Tekoa and Kesuk step out first, their voices joining the storm, carrying the chant.
The yard is crowded. Villagers stand in the rain, their faces pale in the lightning. Samoset and Tisquantum are here, Massasoit Ousamequin beside them, their eyes lifted to the sky, their voices rising in rhythm.
Isaac carries me through the doorway, the downpour soaking us. The fever has me half-delirious, but I can still feel the way he clutches me, as if letting go will break him.
His voice is low, unsteady. “I don’t want to lose you,” he says, rain streaming down his face. “I’ll miss you every day, Alyssa. I’ll never take another wife. I’ll stay here, and I’ll pray for you for the rest of my life. I love you.”
My throat tightens. “I love you, too,” I whisper. “I don’t want to go without you.”
He stares into my eyes for a moment and kisses my forehead, grief breaking through his composure. Lightning flashes, white and blinding. The chant grows louder, echoing across the village as Kesuk raises her hands to the sky. I can barely hold my eyes open now.
Everything rises into the roar of the storm as the chant crescendos, thunder cracks, and the world dissolves into rain and light.