Fire, The Read Online Free PDF Page B

the company of others at the end of a crowded street.
    Kevin gave the back of the residence a quick inspection. When he didn't see any lights or faces in the windows, he walked to the middle of the yard and raised his arms.
    For a moment, Kevin did nothing but stand in place, stare at the sky, and let the truth sink in. He had done it. He had really done it. He had traveled back in time several decades, if not an entire century, in a matter of minutes, proving science fiction writers right and twenty-first-century physicists wrong. He had done something that had rarely, if ever, been done before. He smiled as he thought about what he would say to his family.
    "So what did you do this weekend?"
    Then he thought about something else, and just that quickly his exhilaration turned to fear. What if he couldn't go back? What if Time Travel Airlines, otherwise known as Asa Johnson's chamber of stones, didn't do roundtrip flights? Or what if it was some sort of magical history tour that sent him to choice locations like Little Big Horn in 1876 or San Francisco in 1906 or even Hiroshima in 1945? He didn't like that idea at all.
    Kevin turned his head and stared at the shed. Maybe he should play it safe. He could always come back another day, after he'd had an opportunity to think things over and consider possible drawbacks. It was one thing to conduct a little science experiment while your parents and sister shopped in Spokane. It was another to mess with the supernatural.
    For a few minutes, Kevin thought not of the unfamiliar world in front of him but rather of the familiar world he had left behind. No matter what he saw or did this day, he wanted to return to that world. He considered his options for a moment and then walked back to the shed.
    Kevin reached into his pockets and pulled out another two-dozen coins. He wasn't at all convinced that the coins were necessary, but he was glad he had brought them along. Time travel was not horseshoes or hand grenades, where almost was good enough. He didn't want to leave anything to chance.
    Kevin dropped to his knees and laid out the gold in the still ample evening light. He didn't know if the chamber gods liked heads or tails, but he decided to do what he had done the first time and turn all of the coins sunny side up. Consistency couldn't hurt. When he finished flipping the eagles that belonged to the man in the apparently unoccupied house behind him, he formed the first M of MMXIII. He didn't finish his spelling bee.
    About halfway through the second M, he realized that he was letting fear get the better of him. He didn't want to leave just yet and, in fact, felt an obligation to stay. He was a man of science, after all, a man on a mission – much like the Apollo astronauts. He had an obligation to leave the safety of his ship and check out the neighborhood. If the natives of this world were little green men with paintball guns, then he'd just have to learn how to play paintball.
    Kevin picked up the gold and returned to his feet. A moment later, he stepped into the yard and took a closer look at the world he had come to see. It was a world that looked remarkably different even from thirty feet away. Though Kevin knew he had returned to the home of his ancestors, he knew it was not the home he had left. The home he had left had an overgrown lawn, a greenhouse, and a hot tub that sat atop a large redwood deck. The home he saw now had a neatly cut lawn, two vegetable gardens, rows of roses, and a black wrought-iron fence.
    The residence, too, looked different. It was white, for one thing, and had paned windows, black shutters, and a wood-shake roof. Roger Johnson's slate-gray house had energy-efficient windows, blue shutters, and a metal roof – not to mention a satellite dish.
    Kevin zeroed in on each of the rear-facing windows and looked again for signs of life. He didn't see anyone, which was probably a good thing. The last thing he needed was to be spotted coming out of someone's