Time Salvager (Time Salvager #1)(130)

He saw Sammuia among them, clinging to Qawol’s hand. At least the boy was alive. Elise had taken a liking to him. She would be devastated if he had died. James immediately felt ashamed, as he realized that he valued the boy above any of these other injured and dead because of selfish reasons. His thoughts wandered to Smitt and how no one else grieved for him. His friend had followed him and paid the price for his loyalty. There was a lot he had to make right here. James closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He collected his thoughts and made a silent vow. The world needed a better James Griffin-Mars, and he intended to give it to them.

“What happened?” he asked in a low voice.

“The Oldest wouldn’t leave the field,” one of those keeping vigil said, her voice bitter. “Insisted on being one of the last to retreat into the buildings. An explosion nearby threw him across the commons.”

“Old fool,” James muttered. “You’re the leader of your people. Their general. You shouldn’t be putting yourself in harm’s way.”

James knew there was more to it than that, though. Qawol was not only their leader, he was their symbol. He kept the Elfreth together by standing alongside them. Being on the front was the only way he knew how to lead.

The tough old man held on until dawn, and then he passed away, with nothing more than the stilling of his shallow breathing marking his passage. Some of the natives had hoped he would wake at least once more, perhaps to name a successor or just to say good-bye. The old man had been with them longer than anyone alive could remember. And now he was gone, and the entire encampment fell into a deep sorrow.

James found Elise grieving alone in the corner, sobbing with her face in her hands. He watched her quivering body, once more unsure of what to do. He had seen this pain only once before, in Sasha when their mother had died. His little sister had been inconsolable for a week, unable to eat or sleep. James had cried the first night with her, and then he had told himself he had to be strong for them both. That was the last time he had let his guard down like that. Until this year, when he finally cracked.

He went to console as he could. She grabbed his hands and cried into his palms, soaking them with her tears. Together, they stayed in the corner, leaving the rest of the tribe to their private grief for their fallen leader. Eventually, Elise fell asleep, still leaning on him, her hands still wrapped around his.

Franwil came to see them later that night. The old woman’s eyes were red with grief, but she looked calm and strong as she spoke. “Today was a day of many sacrifices. Oldest has fallen and most of the strong are dead or too injured to lead. You were the ones who gave us hope and you were the ones who brought this down upon us. It is up to you to fix this.”

James frowned. Did she just ask him to lead them? He was ready for them to direct their anger at him, possibly expel him and Elise from the tribe, but this was a turn of events that he never anticipated. He couldn’t lead these people. Black abyss, he’d been about to suggest to Elise that they consider going off on their own.

He stood up and addressed the group. “Look, I’m sorry this has happened, and I’m honored that—”

“Not you, Chronman,” she cut in. “You still have not earned my trust. I speak to her.” Franwil pointed at Elise.

Elise gave a start. “What? You have to be kidding.”

Franwil nodded. “No one will follow the chronman, and the rest of the Old Ones are too weary. The strong ones too few. All we cling to now is that dream you fed us. We wait for the day when you can cure the land, so it is only fitting you show us the way.”

Elise looked at James, stark panic in her eyes. “James, say something. Tell her what an awful idea this is!”

It was a terrible idea. There could be no one less qualified to lead a wasteland tribe than someone from the past who had never experienced the cruelty of this world. Elise, however, had something none of them had. Goals. Optimism. Hope. Those were traits that had been long drained out of the people who lived in the present. They were the rarest commodities in this century, resources not easily gotten. Maybe it was what they needed. Franwil saw that.

“I don’t know anything about surviving out there,” Elise said.

Franwil smiled. “Many of the Elfreth have that knowledge. That will not be why you lead.”

“She will have help,” James added. “From you. From myself. All of the Elfreth.”

“A good Oldest knows when to dip into another’s well of wisdom. She will have many to drink from.” Franwil looked to him. He nodded. For the first time since he had arrived in Boston, an understanding passed between them. “It is settled. The first thing that must be done is to find a new home for the Elfreth. I have suggestions, Oldest Elise.” She smiled when she said those words.

James looked over at the Nazi soldier, Sasha, and Grace sitting over to the side. They waved. This time, he waved back. He turned to Elise. “I agree. I’ll need to locate another collie and then I can start scouting for a new home. I saw some of the monitors’ wrecks. Maybe we can salvage one or two of them. Once I have wings, I can make a few jumps back to get the supplies we sorely need.”

“No, you won’t, James,” the real Grace said, walking toward him. “I tracked your life signs over the past several jumps. Your body can’t take it anymore. I give you a sixty percent chance of surviving one more jump, and a twenty-five percent chance of surviving two. You’re on the edge of a massive stroke every time you go back, and it’s been getting progressively worse. Your time-traveling days are over.”