Read Capturing Today (TimeShifters Book 2) for Free Online

hundred dull machetes, forcing its muddy innards to ooze to the top. Rain pools in deep ruts and holes. Men in greenish, tan uniforms, wearing turtle shell shaped helmets—soldiers—swarm the area around me, but they don’t seem worried about a girl appearing in their midst.
    Or the explosions that keep blasting the earth a quarter mile ahead of us for that matter.
    My heart slams into my ribcage with the power of a charging bull. Rapid gunfire matches the spastic trajectory of my thoughts. Erik sent me into the middle of a war zone. Does he want me dead? Why not simply kill me at the farm, in my time, where at least my dad could bury me since he never got to bury Mom?
    Calm down. I take a deep breath, which is a terrible mistake. If a trash dump, raw chicken left rotting in the sun for eight days, a septic lake, and a men’s locker room all hooked up and had a baby together, it would be the smell currently scorching my nostrils. A person can only hold their breath for so long though. Hesitantly, I take another breath and sputter, gag, and start coughing. Which might be the worst thing ever because it makes me gasp in deep lungfuls of the tainted air. Tears sting my eyes as I try to open them.
    In order to transfer my pain—yes, pain, the smell is that awful—I sink my nails into the cushy arm loops of my backpack. Good thing I was wearing the bag when Erik shifted me.
    Wait. My clothes. I have to change into my Shifter clothes. 
    Looking down, I splay my hands over the shirt I wear. It’s not the shirt I had on back in my time. Somehow I’m in shifting clothes. The soldiers will see me as whatever makes the most sense for the situation. My backpack is different too.
    The perspiration from my time turns to cold prickles in the chilled breeze. I scrub my hand against my neck. How did I get in these clothes? Is Erik truly that powerful? Apparently. At least one of us was thinking. I would have shocked everyone in the shorts and t-shirt I had on in Porter’s time.
    A man brushes past me, his shoulder bumping mine. “Sorry, nurse.”
    That voice. Though strained with weariness, it carries a certain quality that is precious to me. I spin around at the same time he does.
    “Michael.”
    Every day for the past eight months he’s strolled across my imagination, usually wearing his lopsided, one dimpled smile. Sometimes in dreams. Sometimes when I’m fully awake. How could I have forgotten how handsome he is? My mind never did him justice.
    Mocha hair in beautiful disarray. Something almost black is smeared across the right side of his face, and dirt in dried sweat lines shows every plane and angle of his face. A purpling gash near his temple twists my heart, and deep shadows pooling under his eyes speak of sleepless nights. My fingers itch to wipe the furrow out of his brow.
    A man near Michael’s side is talking to him, but Michael might as well be deaf. With his lips slightly parted, he stares at me. Blinks a couple of times.
    “Gabby?” Even over the din of war, his hope-laced whisper reaches me.
    Then, “Gabby!” He whoops, and in an instant he has me in his arms. With my feet momentarily off the ground, Michael slowly spins us once. Our eyes locked. Our foreheads mere inches apart. “Gabby.” This time, he speaks my name like a prayer. “You’re here.”
    When he lowers me to the ground, his arms stay firmly around my back. My hands snake their way up to cradle his face, and I rub my thumbs along his jaw. “I’m here.”
    Someone clears their throat. The muscles in Michael’s arms tighten a fraction, and then he releases me. In the small patches where his skin is still visible through the dirt, his cheeks flush despite the damp weather.
    The man Michael was speaking with earlier grins at us like the village idiot. “The look on your face. Guess you didn’t know your wife was joining you on the front. Did you, Doctor?”
    Doctor? I raise my eyebrows and purse my lips. Silently teasing Michael.
    The