He faces the front of the jeep, and I wonder if he’s avoiding my gaze. “The scientists in nineteen forty-four don’t know about the recruits. We never travel back to this time period. I’ve been sneaking around, just like you have.”
“But—” I wave my hand up and down, indicating his clothes and his short hair. “You have uniforms. You cut your hair. Where have you been sleeping?”
He smiles slightly. “I’ve been posing as a soldier at Camp Hero. Blending in as much as possible.”
“I don’t understand.” I tilt my head back against the seat. Outside I can hear the crickets chirping, and the long, high call of a bird. It must be getting close to morning. “You said you were always traveling through time. Why don’t they send you to nineteen forty-four?”
His voice changes, and it’s as though he’s reciting something he’s heard a thousand times: “Certain points in time are more precarious than others. The Facility was built in nineteen forty-three. Only one year ago. If one tiny thing goes wrong with the time line, then the entire Montauk Project could cease to exist. The people in charge don’t want that to happen, so they keep us away from this time period.”
He still hasn’t let go of the steering wheel, and he’s completely still as he speaks. “The recruits start getting involved again in the nineteen fifties. You’re lucky you were sent here.”
Outside, the sky on the horizon is shot through with streaks of light. “It was purely an accident,” I say.
“I know. For some reason the TM was set to this time period, which is strange. When you didn’t input a new date, it brought you here automatically.”
“How does it work anyway, the machine? I know about the alternating magnetic waves, but hearing about it is different from living through it....” I shudder.
“It acts as a vessel by tapping into time tunnels that already exist. The TM essentially transports you to a connecting TM.”
My hair is starting to come out of my ponytail, and pieces fall down around my face and shoulders. I tuck them behind my ears. “But wasn’t the TM only invented last year? What if you go to a time that doesn’t have a TM?”
“Then you’d be stuck there,” he says matter-of-factly. “You can’t travel without a TM.”
I sigh. “I guess it was lucky that I came to nineteen forty-four.”
He lifts his chin, his eyes on the sky in front of us. “You should go now. It’s starting to get light out.”
I open the door but don’t step out.
“Wes.”
He looks at me, and I forget what I wanted to say. We stare at each other in the early, early dawn.
In a quick movement, he finally lets go of the steering wheel and leans toward me. I freeze as he gently pushes a strand of hair away from my face. His fingertips trail along my cheek and I automatically close my eyes.
When I open them, he’s sitting back in his seat, gripping the steering wheel again. “You should go,” he repeats.
I slide out of the truck but pause before I shut the door behind me. “Where does this leave us? You know I want to help my family.”
His mouth tightens and he won’t look at me. “I can’t support that. It’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t expect you to keep helping me,” I say. “I just don’t want you to stop me from doing what I know is right.”
He doesn’t answer. I slowly shut the door. A moment later the engine turns over and he drives away. I watch him go, standing by the side of the road long after the truck has disappeared.
The Bentleys keep their back door unlocked, and I open it slowly. I slip into the dark kitchen, then down the hallway and up the creaking stairs. My bedroom door is open a crack and I tiptoe into the shadowy room. Closing it with a soft click, I lean forward to press my forehead into the smooth wood, aware of every bump and bruise on my body. I want to crawl into bed and stay there for a hundred years.
A light suddenly flickers on behind me and I spin around.
“Where have you been?” It’s Mary. Her hands are on her hips and she’s glaring at me.
“You scared me!” I gasp, pressing my hand to my chest.
She walks over to stand in front of me. She’s wearing a white nightgown that pools around her ankles.
“What happened, Lydia?” she asks. “I came in here to see how you were feeling and you were gone. I thought you were abducted until I saw that some of your clothes were missing. Where did you go in the middle of the night? And what happened to your cheek?”
“I, uh …”
“Well?” Mary folds her arms across her chest. “If you don’t tell me where you were, I’m gonna have to wake up my parents.”
“I met a boy,” I say quickly. “I snuck out to see a boy.” It isn’t technically a lie.
The anger fades from Mary’s face.
“A boy?” She starts to smile. “Where did you meet a boy? What’s his name?”
“It’s … Wes. The soldier from Camp Hero.”
“Wes?” She tilts her head. The soft glow of the room shines through her hair like a halo. “Oh, Private Smith.” Her voice gets breathy. “The dark hair and the eyes and the …” She holds her hand up high, indicating Wes’s height.
I nod. “We met at the hospital, and one thing led to another.” I pause. “I might be falling in love with him.” I say the words automatically, and a heavy feeling settles into the pit of my stomach. Is this true? Could I be falling in love with Wes?
Mary studies me carefully. Whatever she sees in my face meets with approval, because she suddenly squeals and grabs my arm.
I’m almost panting, my breath becoming short at the thought of falling in love with Wes. I’ve never even had a real boyfriend,
