The weeks slipped into months, and, with the passing of time, their household felt more and more like a home. Alec's new roommate still had not uttered a word, but their hard work and material success often was interspersed with light-hearted moments and a great deal of fun. They saw each other only occasionally during the day, but it was always pleasant when they did, and there was always some goofing around during mealtimes and in the hour before they retired each evening. They'd even discovered a series of simple games to help wile away the hours.

Who could ask for more from life? Well, Alec couldn't, which was why the woman's voice took him so by surprise.

"Hello, there." It was a pleasant voice, womanly but with an underlying huskiness. "I'm in need of help."

He was working at an open area behind the cottage, separating some wild wheat from the stalk on a threshing floor he'd built there. Her presence, to say the least, took him completely by surprise. For several long seconds he could only stare at her.

And then he remembered himself. The person standing before him, a petite woman of around 30, looked positively fit to drop. He stepped toward her.

"Why don't you sit down," he said, before moving as if to guide her to a bench near the back pergola of the cottage.

She didn't resist but moved on ginger feet when she walked. There was a faint trembling in her.

"I don't want to be a bother," she said. "I ... I've just lost my way. If you could give me a lift back to the village, I would be forever in your debt."

The village. He ignored that for a moment, but it did cause his suspicions to pique, even further than they already had. The woman seemed thoroughly out of place. She was wearing a handsome full-length dress of somber blue, a long overcoat cut in a man's style, and a gray bonnet. The whole ensemble appeared antiquated, nothing at all like garments he so far had seen in this world. There was something out of place.

"I'm not sure which village you're referring to," he said after finding her a seat and fetching a cup of water from the cistern by the kitchen door.

"Well ... oh, of course," she said with a sweet smile, "your accent. You're not from around here. I need to make my way back to Epping. I left my brother there, and I'm sure he's frantic by now."

Something went off in Alec. Her way of speaking was strange. It was very much like British English, but a variety he never before had encountered. It was rustic and sophisticated at the same time, and in total it was quite beautiful.

"I don't know of any villages nearby," he said. Which way is it from here?

"Oh, I wish I could tell you," was her reply. She pointed to the south. "I came from that way. I've been following that stream for the better part of the day. I've never been so lost."

For the better part of the day? Was that it, then? Over the last months, Alec had heeded the old farmer's words and his own common sense and had restricted his travels to within a short distance of the road. Only rarely did he travel more than a half mile from the path, and then only when he was heavily armed.

Was there something else? Epping, she'd said. Was there another village or community through the forest to the south? He so far had never gone further than a few miles in that direction. A day's walk might take him how far? Five miles or ten? It was difficult to say. Slogging through the forest was slow going, as this woman's appearance demonstrated. She looked worn and weathered.

"Is this Epping your home?" he asked, "you and your brother?"

"Oh, no. Captain Carter and I are on holiday." She gave a winning smile. "We're just back from France ... with the army."

"From France ...?" The words fell numb on his lips.

"Yes ... I'm sorry." She reached up to where he stood beside her. "I'm Mrs. Green."

"Pleasure. I'm Alec Larkin." He stood there for some moments shaking the lovely woman's hand, no doubt looking like a complete dullard. Then he said, "You're English, aren't you?"

The sweetest laugh escaped her lips. "Well, Mr. Larkin, what else would I be? This is England."

It felt to Alec as if he was hallucinating. He gave the area a quick look and saw his friend toiling in the fields a few hundred yards distant. Seeing her brought him back to himself. He cleared his throat.

"I do apologize," he said. "Where exactly is Epping located in ... in ... um ... England?"

"You're from the colonies, aren't you?" A light seemed to go off in her eyes. "Your way of speaking threw me off for a moment."

"The ... the colonies?" he couldn't help but stutter.

"Ah! You call yourselves Americans now, don't you?"

He looked again at her attire. She was not clad in the dark jumpsuit that he and others like him wore. And Mrs. Green made no reference to having woken in a meadow. How long had she been in this land?

How the hell to ask that question? And how was she under the impression that she was in England? No one in the United States had heard from England in nearly 3 years.

Could it be possible that they all were somehow in the United Kingdom? Somehow, had the island nation been spared from the annihilation that the Combine had brought elsewhere on Earth?

No. No, no. No, no, no. That was not in any way possible. This simply was not Earth. Everything was different here. Everything. From the sky at night to the way physics worked, this was an altogether different world, an entirely different realm.

"Mrs. Green," he began. "How ...? What were you ...?" He paused, thought, and something occurred to him. "Mrs. Green, what year is it?"

This earned him another sweet laugh from the obviously perplexed woman. "Mr. Larkin, it's the year of our Lord 1815, of course."