conscience be your guide."
Cameron nodded.
"I will."
Jeanette gazed at Cameron, smiled, and headed for the door. When she reached her husband, she whispered in his ear, stepped aside, and sent him into the tunnel with a nudge.
"It seems I forgot to give you something as well," Bell said.
"You did?" Cameron asked.
Bell nodded.
"I forgot to give you some advice."
"What advice?"
"Watch out for dogs in the yard."
"Dogs?"
"Yes. Dogs. The last people I sent to the past had some trouble with a German shepherd on their return trip," Bell said. "I don't believe you'll have the same trouble, but keep an eye out for canines just the same."
"I'll do that," Cameron said in a nervous voice. He wondered what other surprises waited for him. "Is there anything else I need to do?"
"No. Just walk out that door and embrace 1925."
"OK."
Bell offered a hand.
"Good luck, Mr. Coelho. I look forward to our next visit."
Cameron shook the hand.
"Goodbye, Professor."
Bell turned around and exited the scene. Unlike his wife, he did not stop in the doorway and give his guest one last look. He stepped out of the chamber and shut the door like a custodian closing a supply room at the end of a shift.
The time traveler took a breath, thought about Bell's matter-of-fact departure, and then turned toward the outer door. This was it, he thought. This was the moment of truth.
Cameron carried his bags to the door, set them down, and pondered the professor's warning about dogs. He knocked lightly on the door and waited for Fido to bark. When he heard nothing ominous in reply, he reached for the knob, turned it easily, and pushed the door open.
Cameron squinted as bright sunlight assaulted his eyes. He gave himself a moment to adjust to the light, listened again for canine killers, and grabbed his luggage. If any dogs or nosy neighbors or suspicious policemen patrolled the property, they did not announce themselves.
The Rhode Islander took a breath and stepped into the California sunshine. He started up a brick stairway that led, presumably, to Geoffrey Bell's backyard and the age of silent movies.
Cameron knew even before he reached the top of the stairs that he was in a different time. The air was cool and moist, not warm and dry. The bright sun loomed higher in the sky.
Cameron rushed up the last few steps, stepped onto a weedy lawn, and moved quickly toward a spot that offered a good view of his surroundings. He dropped his luggage, spun around, and gawked at everything he saw.
He gawked because everything he saw was different. Victorian mansions stood next to newer Craftsman bungalows. Utility poles lined wider streets and towered over shiny black Model T's that looked fresh off the Ford assembly lines.
Cameron looked for the fences he had seen coming in, but he saw none. He did not see satellite dishes, either, or riding mowers or trampolines or even swimming pools. What he did see was a scene stolen from a movie set or the pages of a history book.
Nineteen twenty-five was no longer the focus of a dissertation or even the promise of a time-traveling professor. It was the world around him.
Cameron raised his arms and smiled. He had done it. He had really done it. He had traveled to the past in the blink of an eye. The question now was where he would go from here.
CHAPTER 9: CAMERON
Linn County, Iowa – Saturday, March 14, 1925
Cameron gazed out his window and smiled as a man driving a Model T on a road that ran parallel to the tracks tried in vain to keep up with the train. He knew that someday passenger vehicles would zip past trains on these tracks, but today was not that day. Even in 1925, the Tin Lizzy was still no match for the Iron Horse.
Cameron watched the Ford as it disappeared from sight and then turned his attention to the documents on his lap. Among the items he had selected to review were the diary pages he had shown Professor Bell and the one he had not. He reread a passage that was etched in his
Cameron nodded.
"I will."
Jeanette gazed at Cameron, smiled, and headed for the door. When she reached her husband, she whispered in his ear, stepped aside, and sent him into the tunnel with a nudge.
"It seems I forgot to give you something as well," Bell said.
"You did?" Cameron asked.
Bell nodded.
"I forgot to give you some advice."
"What advice?"
"Watch out for dogs in the yard."
"Dogs?"
"Yes. Dogs. The last people I sent to the past had some trouble with a German shepherd on their return trip," Bell said. "I don't believe you'll have the same trouble, but keep an eye out for canines just the same."
"I'll do that," Cameron said in a nervous voice. He wondered what other surprises waited for him. "Is there anything else I need to do?"
"No. Just walk out that door and embrace 1925."
"OK."
Bell offered a hand.
"Good luck, Mr. Coelho. I look forward to our next visit."
Cameron shook the hand.
"Goodbye, Professor."
Bell turned around and exited the scene. Unlike his wife, he did not stop in the doorway and give his guest one last look. He stepped out of the chamber and shut the door like a custodian closing a supply room at the end of a shift.
The time traveler took a breath, thought about Bell's matter-of-fact departure, and then turned toward the outer door. This was it, he thought. This was the moment of truth.
Cameron carried his bags to the door, set them down, and pondered the professor's warning about dogs. He knocked lightly on the door and waited for Fido to bark. When he heard nothing ominous in reply, he reached for the knob, turned it easily, and pushed the door open.
Cameron squinted as bright sunlight assaulted his eyes. He gave himself a moment to adjust to the light, listened again for canine killers, and grabbed his luggage. If any dogs or nosy neighbors or suspicious policemen patrolled the property, they did not announce themselves.
The Rhode Islander took a breath and stepped into the California sunshine. He started up a brick stairway that led, presumably, to Geoffrey Bell's backyard and the age of silent movies.
Cameron knew even before he reached the top of the stairs that he was in a different time. The air was cool and moist, not warm and dry. The bright sun loomed higher in the sky.
Cameron rushed up the last few steps, stepped onto a weedy lawn, and moved quickly toward a spot that offered a good view of his surroundings. He dropped his luggage, spun around, and gawked at everything he saw.
He gawked because everything he saw was different. Victorian mansions stood next to newer Craftsman bungalows. Utility poles lined wider streets and towered over shiny black Model T's that looked fresh off the Ford assembly lines.
Cameron looked for the fences he had seen coming in, but he saw none. He did not see satellite dishes, either, or riding mowers or trampolines or even swimming pools. What he did see was a scene stolen from a movie set or the pages of a history book.
Nineteen twenty-five was no longer the focus of a dissertation or even the promise of a time-traveling professor. It was the world around him.
Cameron raised his arms and smiled. He had done it. He had really done it. He had traveled to the past in the blink of an eye. The question now was where he would go from here.
CHAPTER 9: CAMERON
Linn County, Iowa – Saturday, March 14, 1925
Cameron gazed out his window and smiled as a man driving a Model T on a road that ran parallel to the tracks tried in vain to keep up with the train. He knew that someday passenger vehicles would zip past trains on these tracks, but today was not that day. Even in 1925, the Tin Lizzy was still no match for the Iron Horse.
Cameron watched the Ford as it disappeared from sight and then turned his attention to the documents on his lap. Among the items he had selected to review were the diary pages he had shown Professor Bell and the one he had not. He reread a passage that was etched in his
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