Free Pennsylvania Omnibus by Michael Bunker Page A

said. “Your safety is my job.”
    Jed continued to embrace her, and as his gaze drifted
across the antiques, the light flickering among them, he saw them for what they
were: moments that marked real lives that were lived.
    “I have so many questions,” Jed said as he pulled away
from Dawn’s embrace again.
    “I know, Jed.  I know you do.  You have been very
patient.  But we don’t have time to go through everything right now.  Lives are
at stake, and you know that.  It would all blow your mind out of your ears…
seriously.”
    “I know.”  Jed took a step backwards, then began to move
towards the door that led down to the basement.  When he did, Dawn’s hand
darted out and grabbed his hand.
    “Jed, everything is not as it seems.  I know you probably
know that by now, but no matter what happens, you need to believe that you can
trust me.  I’m here to help you, and to keep you alive.  I can’t answer all of
your questions, and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t believe me if I could.  But
I’ll tell you whatever I can when the time is right.  For right now, my
job— our job—is to get you to the Amish Zone. That is my one and only
mission in life.”
    Jed looked down at his boots, and then back up at Dawn. 
He was still holding her hand, so when he turned again he pulled her gently
behind him.
    “Let me show you something,” Jed said softly over his
shoulder.
    “What?  Here?  In the shop?”
    “Yes, it’s back here where Pook kept his forgery
papers.”
    “Okay” was all that Dawn could manage to say as she let
herself be pulled down a dark aisle and then back up another row that was dimly
lit by lantern light.
    When they were back in the little nook where Pook had
removed the old relic from the wall, Jed pointed to the antique window that now
rested against an old, dusty couch.  Jed went down to a knee and reached out to
touch the flattened coffee can that served as a replacement to a long-ago
broken pane.
    “This window frame came from the old barn on my farm. 
Back in Old Pennsylvania.”
    Dawn stood quietly a while, and when Jed finally looked up
at her, she was staring at him, as if she wasn’t sure what she should say.
    “I broke this window pane with my slingshot when I was
fourteen years old.  I replaced the pane myself with this coffee can.  I looked
up at this window in the gabled end of our barn only days ago, when I was
leaving to board the airbus to start this trip.”
    “That wasn’t days ago, Jed.”
    “I know.  I know that.  But at the most it was nine years
ago, and that’s if the window frame made the trip with us on the ship, and I
don’t believe that it did.  It was here when we got here, and it was covered in
a lot of dust.  Something is wrong.”
    “Maybe it’s another window and it just really looks like
yours.  Maybe you’re homesick, and you remember a window a lot like this one?” 
Dawn didn’t say these things as though she believed them.  She said them as if
she were offering them up as excuses… reasons to suspend disbelief for just a
little while longer.
    “No, Dawn.”  He touched the metal replacement pane again. 
“This is what I know.  This is the only thing I know in the whole universe
right now.  This is my work.  It was a point of humor between my dad and me.  I
looked at it all the time.  I put this can here.”  His fingers traced the
raised lettering on the flattened, ancient coffee can.
    “There are a lot of things that I just can’t tell you yet,
Jedediah.”
    “Just tell me where I am, and what happened to my
home.”
    “Where… well, where is an interesting question. 
And I don’t mean to sound mysterious, or to put you off when you’re obviously
concerned and maybe worried too, but the real question—and it’s another one
that I can’t yet answer for you—isn’t where are you, but when .”
    Jed looked up at Dawn, but his hand didn’t leave the metal
can in the window frame.
    “So answer it,