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Chapter 2: Chapter 2

At times like this it’s so easy to pretend this really is a colony, a whole new world with the rest of history stretched out before it, all the wars and the politics and the stuff we learned in school yet to come. With my eyes shut, I feel the years peel back, layer after layer. I see myself lying on a colonial knoll, not some grass covered spot in a historical park. We haven’t explored beyond the Mississippi, haven’t discovered gold in California or oil in Alaska. We’re still British subjects, aren’t even Americayet. Here on quiet nights, alone, the past melds with the now and I’m not even sure what year it is anymore. It could be the 1800’s as easily as it’s the 21st Century.

I’m not wearing a watch, but my shift ended at seven and when I closed my eyes, there was still a tinge of rosy sunlight clinging stubbornly to the horizon. If Greg has begun to light the street lamps, one of the last tasks before the colony shuts down for the night, then I guess it’s probably a little before eight o’clock. Time enough for a quick nap.

I know Greg will wake me up when he passes. He’s done it before, when I fell out after work. Marie in HR would have a fit if I stayed the night at the colony, snoozing on the bench like a homeless bum. Greg has warned me about it many times. But it’s so peaceful here after dark and suddenly I’m so damn tired, I can’t move if I try. I feel myself drift in and out of consciousness as intermittently as the breeze blowing through the leaves above me. A few minutes of shut-eye, that’s all I need. Plenty of time left to catch the last bus into town.

* * * *

I wake with a start.

It’s freezing now. As I sit up and rub the feeling back into my arms, I stare into the thick fog and listen. The branches creaking above me, the faint guttering of flame in the lights, is all I hear.

Greg must’ve already passed by then, if the lamps are lit. In the fog he didn’t even see me, so he didn’t wake me up. How long was I out? Hours probably.

The bus.

I hope I didn’t miss it. Much as I like to doze off at work, I’d hate to be forced to spend the night here. After eight even the inn closes, and the only place I have a key for is the stables. God, the last thing I want to do is lie down with the horses. I might be a re-enactor and I might take my history seriously, but I have to draw the line somewhere.

I stretch as I stand and when I walk, my shoes ring off the cobbled stones. The sound echoes through the square, off the buildings, surrounding me until it sounds as if the place is full of people, but I don’t see anyone else through the fog.

I run a hand through my damp hair and realize the temperature has dropped. It’s now much too cold for the scant clothing I wear during the day. Never would I fall asleep after my shift again. Next time I’ll just get on the bus, go back home, forget all about the colony until I’m paid to be here. Sleeping on the grass, how stupid. Like I can’t get fired for that shit.

Around me the street lamps glow like tiny suns haloed by the fog. As I pass beneath a lamp, the next one down the street suddenly materializes into sight, like a phantom trail leading the way. The bus runs right along the edge of the park, not more than twenty yards from here. Maybe I’m not toolate. I wish I could see the moon—at least then I might be able to estimate the time. I wasn’t thattired. I couldn’t have slept toolong.

Behind me I hear a faint step. Relief floods through me—someone else, thank God.It can’t be that late then, if there are still people in the park.

“Greg?” I whirl around, eager to see someone, anyone. If it’s Greg, then it isn’t too late at all, and even if the last bus has already come and gone, he can give me a lift.

But I don’t see anything except swirls of fog rolling through the square. Maybe I’m only imagining things. Maybe I should hurry to the stop, in case the last bus hasn’t run yet. I even turn in that direction, already heading that way, when I hear another step, a shoe on the cobbled stones and the snap of a twig beneath sudden weight.

“Greg?” This time I turn in mid-step and hurry back the way I came.


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