“He lurched forward like Frankenstein in an old horror movie. The plaza was alive with people, people everywhere, running about as if there were a war going on, and it took him a moment to remember that there was. “The note,” he said to himself, “I’ve got to find the note.” He began to look around. There were so many people there, he couldn’t see anything but legs and bodies and faces. And cannons. There were three long lines of cannons, more than fifty of them. Amos worked his way through the p...eople over to the south side of the plaza and collapsed against a wall in the southwest corner. It was impossible. He was going to have to stay, locked in the past, if he didn’t find the note, and he couldn’t think, couldn’t think.… He looked at all the people and all the cannons and buried his head in his hands in frustration. It was hopeless. There was no possible way to find a single sheet of notebook paper in all this chaos. He was stuck in the Civil War until the day he died—which, if Sergeant Bremish had his way, would not be very far away and would not be very pleasant.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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