Post-script to the story, offering a sneak peek at what’s in store in book 2.
It was still hard to get used to all of this. Isabella had been working aboard the Accoucheur for quite a while now, and had gotten to know Doctor Smith quite well. He had helped her understand and cope with all of the nuances of time travel, but sometimes, like now when she was in the wrong time, nothing really helped her to sort out how all the pieces fit together.
The last chapter in the book, but the story isn’t over.
Faintly, as if over a great distance, Nanny responded, We call ourselves Protectors among your people, but your people have always called us Angels. We are not angels however, only mortal beings like you.
Adam asserts himself, and they all learn the answers to their questions.
“You will NOT!” he shouted, and the Magister stepped backward as if punched in the stomach by his words, although nothing had physically touched him. “You will NEVER…” the Magister was forced back one step down the steps, “… harm another HUMAN…” Adam advanced on him, forcing him back further with his mind, “…ever AGAIN!”
Audrey tries to understand the situation as Adam’s plan spirals out of control.
Audrey tried to force herself up to sitting. Her arm nearly buckled under the weight of her upper body, but she pushed with all her strength and was able to prop herself up. Leaning back on some sort of debris, there was something poking her in the shoulder. Turning her head, she found that there was blood all over her clothes.
Audrey enters the compound on a mission to rescue Adam.
“We are following a team of fighters in formation through the fray, directly into the enemy hangar. I just received word that the hangar is now secure, but there are a lot of loose weapons already in the air. Have you ever flown one of these birds before, Ms. Audrey?”
Caught Somewhere in Time is a story about how the invention of the first time travel device in humanity’s future allows us to locate alien life that existed in our past, and the repercussions of alien contact.
