Shadow Storm

Chapter 2

Chapter 2THE SUN CALLED in sick. When Fritz arrived at school, he felt a shock as he grabbed his classroom doorknob. He rubbed his fingers. That shock meant the portal could be opened and a trip would be possible. He reached into his pocket and removed his desk key. As long as the key was not in his desk lock, the portal would remain unconnected and the paperclips wouldn't do their job. There must be a storm nearby for me to have gotten a shock, he thought. If this lasts all day, I won't need the planes and generator. So instead of going in, he went across the hall, where Sandy Horton, Ashley's no-longer girlfriend, was preparing to start the day. “Sandy, what are you doing right after school?”

“Packing. Why?”

“Give me the Shakespeare book. I just got a shock. I think there's a storm coming. If it hits, the portal should be open.”

“Really? Can we really go?” Sandy's face brightened. She handed him the book, paperclips placed throughout.

“We can only go to one of these,” he told her, handing it back. Sandy thumbed to each marked section and removed all but one clip. On the way back to his own room, Fritz looked at the page that she had chosen.

IT FELT LIKE a short day. The last classes zoomed by like the clouds outside. Lightning flashed when the final bell rang, and Sandy walked in before his students were gone. After the room cleared, he said, “We don't know exactly where we'll be or what we'll find, and we're clearly not properly dressed.” Fritz cleared his desk and put the key in the desk lock. They returned to the hall as Ashley walked out of his classroom. Although he was hesitant to approach, his curiosity got the better of him.

“Hi, guys. Where are you going? To see Shakespeare?”

“Ash, keep your voice down.”

“You're really going? Can I come?”

Fritz glanced at Sandy, who said yes. “Okay. When I open the door, go in quickly. We're likely to frighten whoever is there.” They walked through and found themselves in a dark, empty hallway with plank floors and wooden walls.

“Mr. Shakespeare,” Sandy called.

From a room to their left, a scraping sound resonated, and a young man with a high forehead and mustache stepped to the doorway. Seeing three strangers, he tried to close his shirt as he c****d his head to get a better view. “I am Will Shakespeare. What is it you want?”

Sandy said, “Mr. Shakespeare, we are travelers. We have come to meet you and speak of your writing.”

“What do you know of my writing?”

“It is a tale worthy of your talents, sir. Would you hear it?”

“I am not prepared for guests, but come in.” They followed him into a small room with a fireplace and a desk facing a grimy window. A sheet of parchment and quill lay on the desk. Two chairs furnished the corners.

“My name is Sandra Horton. My companions are Fritz Russell and Ashley Gilbert.”

“You said you wish to speak of my writing. What is your purpose?”

“Your plays, Mr. Shakespeare. We would like to ask some questions about them.”

Fritz spoke, choosing his words with precision. He had studied the writer's history and learned that although Shakespeare sold his plays, he acted to earn his living. “Mr. Shakespeare, we are travelers from the north. Your work is known and appreciated. We are teachers who have traveled far to speak to you.”

Sandy asked, “What are you working on now?”

Shakespeare studied his strangely-attired guests and said, “A story of young lovers and their battling families.”

“In Verona. Romeo and Juliet,” Sandy said.

“What did you say?” Shakespeare asked.

“Romeo and Juliet,” she repeated.

“I must write that down. I have struggled to name them. But how did you know the play is set in Italy?” Fritz realized that they must have traveled to 1594.

Sandy said, “Your story, sir, is most excellent, yet lamentable.” Shakespeare tilted his head, picked up a quill and wrote what she had said.

“You've a way with words,” he said. “I do like that.”

Fritz said, “Mr. Shakespeare, I have not completed my story.” Shakespeare ignored him, continuing to stare at Sandy.

“Sir, the way with words is yours, truly,” she said.

Fritz asked, “Can you tell us somewhat of life here in London?”

Recognizing his reluctance, Sandy said, “Please, sir. We wish you no harm.”

“England is rife with distrust and suspicion. London hides the devil himself. The religions battle, the Church of England wars with Rome. A wrongly spoken word, and off to the hangman. Even I have run afoul of provocateurs who claim I am a servant of Rome.” At that moment, a skittering sound came from behind a wall. “Rats. The demons. Night and day, they disturb my peace.”

“The plague?” Fritz asked.

“Ah, the plague. Not only a killer but a constant cause of theater closures. My livelihood is a full theater. A closed one is unfriendly to my purse.”

Ashley said, “The Queen is your patron and has seen your plays performed. What is life at court like?”

“You know much of me. Yet I have not seen you before.” He inspected his unusual and unexpected visitors. “Life at court is alive with intrigue. I trust no one but perform to please. Her Majesty, I am told, enjoys the spectacle we provide.”

“Where is your family?” asked Ashley.

“My wife and children live in Stratford-on-Avon, at my father's home, where I was born. I visit when work allows. Time does not often permit. Our company performs to large crowds, and I must write to please their lust for the new and different. Without it, my competitors, Marlowe and Jonson, fill their own pockets with my audience's coins.”

“You could say, sir, the play's the thing,” Sandy said.

A smile came to his face. “You could indeed.” He picked up the quill and made a note. Noise from the street brought him to his feet. Unsure of the source, he wiped the pane and watched as the soldiers of the guard marched past. “Much ado about nothing, but I must ask you to excuse me. I must prepare for this evening's performance. Mayhap we shall meet again, at the theater.”

As he ushered them to the hall, Ashley reached to shake his hand. “An enjoyable meeting. All's well that ends well.” The portal glimmered at the end of the hall. With Fritz leading, they went back to New Jersey.

“Oh, wow, thank you, Fritz. That's a great going-away present.”

“Sandy,” said Ashley, “you just named a Shakespeare play. You created history. That's incredible.”

She laughed as she said, “Thanks, Ash. I took it from a great source. Too bad no one will ever know.”

“We will,” said Ashley. “Every time I read it or even hear the name, I'll think about you.” She hugged him, wiped her eyes, and crossed the hall to her own classroom.

Fritz whispered, “Good job.”

FRITZ THOUGHT it felt much later than only the third week of school. So much had happened. Sandy's sudden decision to move to a better position in her hometown should have been the biggest surprise of the new school year. But after the first day of classes, the president had visited Fritz's home with a full entourage that included the Secretary of Defense, the director of the CIA, and Dr. Jane Barclay, an Army major who worked for Homeland Security and as a White House advisor. They wanted Fritz to open the portal for a military operation to enter Naria and destroy its nuclear facilities. George McAllister, the principal, was not wild about using the school as a staging area, but he agreed.

The Narian mission succeeded, but the Eledorians immediately attacked an Israeli village in response. When they took the entire population hostage, the president asked to use the portal to save them. The rescued villagers left captivity through the high school. The circle of those who knew about the portal was growing. In the meantime, Ashley and Jane Barclay had discovered one another.

The students had returned from summer vacation with an abundance of energy and excitement about their schoolwork. Fritz had never seen anything like it and had to do extra work to match the kids' sudden enthusiasm. Ashley went to Washington to visit Major Barclay, who had been wounded in the missions to Naria and Israel. He was about to go back.

Fritz and Linda were not surprised by Ashley's interest in her, but they couldn't see it lasting. At dinner one night, they all talked about it. “She's different, Ash,” Linda said. “What would ever make you think she's your kind of woman? Especially the army part. She follows orders, plans battles, works with spies. She won't be able to tell you what she does or where she goes.”

Without waiting a breath, Ashley answered. “Opposites attract. She's smart, fun to talk to, Lin. She quoted T. S. Eliot, and before she crawled into the fight, she turned to me and quoted from Henry the Fifth. Who thinks like that? I think we'll have a lot of fun.”

Linda asked, “Amazing that she's healed enough to go to a party. Hey, do you have a decent suit to wear?”

“Oh, please. I am not an i***t. And you're still not a mom. I ordered a new suit. Custom. Please, guys. Off my back.”

Fritz tried not to look stunned. “No, you're not stupid. But you and Jane ought to figure out a good story about how you met. Sans portal. The truth won't set you free.”

THE OTHER EXCITEMENT of the new school year came from the sky; the weather cooperated with Fritz's travel itinerary and let him portal to the past. He and Ashley went to see the Battle of Gettysburg up close and to meet young Ernest Hemingway in Paris. He went alone to ask Robert E. Lee for advice about using the portal for a military purpose and then went again after the missions had been completed.

“BACK AGAIN, Mr. Russell.” Lee offered Fritz a cup of tea. “I've told Mary about our visits and how delightful they are. I think she believes that you really have come from the future. But tell me, were you able to make a decision?”

“I did. Thank you for your counsel, General. The mission succeeded. But given what I saw, I can't imagine how hard fighting a war must have been.”

Lee's sharp focus became a far-away stare. “I still see the blood and explosions. I hear the screams and cries. Sometimes sleep is only nightmares.” He sighed. “Providence guided my hand, Mr. Russell. And He found me unworthy.”