The place was a mess, baskets strewn all over the floor, meat lying in the dust, fruit rolling under his feet. He stepped on a tomato, squashed it, almost fell.
The ship! The shore!
Turning immediately, Neil ran from the room and down the steps again. His footsteps echoed hollowly through the night as his boots clattered against the stones of the city. He ran fast, faster, through the city, in and out of the streets, into the forest.
His feet padded swiftly on the forest floor, the sounds of the insects around him. In the distance, he could hear the sound of the surf as it swelled against the beach.
He stopped just inside the forest, and ducked behind a tree. His eyes swept the beach. The time machine glistened in the moonlight, one of the rotors straightened already, the other still twisted. Bobbing gently with the waves was the Norse ship, a graceful curve of blackness against the moon.
His back to the ship, his hands behind him, sitting in the sand, was Erik.
Olaf hastily addressed a group of armed Norsemen.
“To the wells! Fill jugs, cups, bags, anything. Bring back water, all the water you can carry. Hurry! I shall stay with our captain.”
He laughed maliciously and kicked Erik, then strutted before the helpless man. Neil watched from the forest as the Norsemen fled toward the city.
“We are sailing, my captain,” Olaf said. His ax was drawn and in his right hand. “Do you remember when you said you would hate to leave your second officer buried here?”
Erik remained silent, and Olaf kicked him viciously.
“Do you remember, Captain? It was a joke. Everyone laughed.
“I remember,” Erik said softly, his teeth clenched.
“It’s still a joke,” Olaf continued, chuckling a little now. “Only the joke is on you. It is the captain who will be buried on alien soil, and not the second officer.”
Erik stared at Olaf, the hate in his face drawing his lips into a tight line.
“Laugh, Captain,” Olaf commanded. “It is a joke.”
Erik continued staring.
“Laugh,” Olaf shrieked, and his hand came down in a powerful blow that caught Erik on the side of his face.
“Untie me, you scum!” Erik said. “Then we will see who laughs.”
Olaf’s head snapped back.
“What was that?” he shouted.
Neil picked another stone from the leaves at his feet, and waited.
“Who’s there?” Olaf shouted at the water.
“A ghost,” Erik taunted. “Are you afraid of a ghost, brave one?”
Olaf gripped his ax tightly and started to walk cautiously toward the spot from which the splash had come.
As soon as his back was turned, Neil darted out of the forest. He didn’t look back. On silent feet he ran swiftly across the wet sand. He flopped on his belly at the water’s edge, looking over his shoulder then for the first time.
Erik had seen him, and a smile covered his bearded face.
But Olaf was on the other side of the ship, searching for a stone in the Atlantic Ocean.
Noiselessly, Neil slithered into the water, holding his breath and swimming beneath the surface for a short distance.
When he came up for air, breaking water silently, Olaf was standing before Erik again.
“A fish,” he said. “It was nothing but a fish, Captain.” He laughed loudly. “Soon you will be food for the fishes.”
Neil braced his feet on the bottom, reared back, and let the second stone fly toward the forest. It landed in the top of a tree, began dropping, and, in the stillness of the night, sounded like many men tramping through the woods. It rustled the leaves, cracked against the branches, dropped recklessly, and landed with a sharp crack on the forest floor.
Olaf turned quickly.
“Who’s there?” he shouted. “Who’s there?”
“Your fish has moved into the forest,” Erik said.
“Silence,” Olaf commanded sharply. He took a step toward the forest, “Speak up!” he roared. “I am armed.”
There was no sound from the forest.
As Olaf stepped closer, Neil ducked under the surface of the water, swimming toward Erik. Reaching the shore, he gripped the bottom with his hands and, still underwater, pulled himself up in the shadow of the Norse ship. He lifted his head. Erik was directly in front of him and Olaf, his back to the water, still walked toward the forest.
Quickly, without saying a word, Neil moved his fingers over the rope binding Erik’s hands. He found the knot and tugged at it.
Olaf turned, and Neil ducked his head.
“Watch, Captain,” he said, more to his unseen foe in the forest than to Erik, “I am about to cut off the head of an eavesdropper.”