Back in her time by Patricia Corbett Bowman

rifle. The man staggered and reached for his sidearm, but Mac jumped him and beat him on the back until Whitey slammed his rifle into the German’s jaw. He fell solidly. Mac dragged this latest capture to the side, and the three waited long seconds to see if anyone else would appear.
    When no other sounds emanated from the house, Taylor slowly crouched forward, moving toward the doorway. Rapid shots rang out from behind her, hitting the low, tiled roof above her. Pieces of roof tile and wall stucco struck her, driving her down to the ground. More shots blazed around her and then nothing. Mac was the first to her side.
    â€œJunior, Junior! Are you hit?”
    â€œWe got the third bugger over at the woodshed. He must have been out taking a piss. How’s Junior?” said Red running up to them.
    Taylor lifted her head slowly, blood streaming from her face in several places. “I don’t know. I’m bleeding. Does it look bad?”
    Sarge appeared from out of the darkness. He knelt beside Taylor, glowered at what he saw, and pulled her to her feet. Shaking Taylor by the shoulders, he growled, “Get the fluff out, soldier. You’ve just got a few scratches. Wipe your face off.” Sarge stomped away, muttering something about stupid head wounds looking worse than they were. Taylor wiped as told, using Alma’s handkerchief once again.
    â€œHey, that’s the shrapnel you warned us about, Junior,” said Whitey.
    â€œHit by building material is hardly shrapnel,” said Mac.
    â€œLook in here, men. I just found Able’s three scouts. They didn’t do as good as Junior,” said Red. “You did know what was going to happen, Junior. Able’s loss and us hit with shrapnel.”
    Pops didn’t tell me I’d be the one hit. And it wasn’t quite shrapnel. His memory must have deteriorated. Oh, well, it’s almost worth it if Whitey and Red are convinced I have some psychic ability. Will I ever make Pops a believer?

Chapter Twelve

    Taylor rinsed the razor blade in the overturned German helmet and scraped her face with the dull back side, trying to avoid the scratches and deep gouges that she could see in the sliver of mirror she held. Ow. Mac had offered her the razor, saying maybe if she started to shave, something would grow. She couldn’t say no. This is what friends do. Sharing wasn’t Dieter’s thing. Why am I thinking of him now?
    â€œYou’ll have to get beat up better than that if you want to visit that sister again,” Mac smiled as he smoothed a hand over his clean-shaven face. He was almost handsome, with that smirky smile, Taylor thought.
    â€œThanks, but I’ll take this punishment instead of seeing the girl if it means I get to keep my limbs. Now all we need is a bath and a change of clothes to feel human,” said Taylor as she continued the painful scraping. Wonder if I’ll scar? Couldn’t be much worse than acne, could it?
    â€œHey, ‘Man Who Sees the Future,’ any more inside information?” Mac said as looked out the farmhouse’s glassless window.
    â€œInside information? Oh, yeah. I just remembered. Not only do you do well at cards, you’re going to do well in the stock market. Just watch out for insider trading.” Where did this tidbit materialize from? Pretty soon even I will believe I’m psychic.
    â€œI do like to play the ponies. You’re right. Numbers have always been my thing. Maybe when this damn war is over I’ll play the stock market, too. I’ve always been keen to try it. Couldn’t be any worse than those blokes in ’29.”
    â€œDo that, and you’ll remember me telling you this when you make lots of money and become a successful businessman.”
    â€œYou’re a laugh a minute, Junior.”
    â€œWhat about on the war front? Any more deaths?” Mac cocked his head waiting for an answer, as if he might believe Taylor.
    â€œIf