The landing on the beach at Kitty Hawk wasn't bad at all, Bruce thought.  Of course, almost anything would've been better than those cobblestones.

The beach was beautiful, and so was the day.  There were only three people in sight, surf casters waiting lazily for a bite.

The water was calm, and the air so still, that Bruce loosened his hold on Michael a bit.

Bruce stood on the damp sand, hurling pebbles out over the water.  Every once in a while, he'd glance over at Michael, only half-interested in his progress.

After Michael had spoken to the 3rd fisherman, he walked back to Bruce, kicking wet sand as he moved.  He didn't look very happy.

"Well?" Bruce said.

"Hinkley didn't know who the Wright Brothers were," Michael said.  "Neither do I.  That makes three other people with the same handicap."

"They've never heard of them?" Bruce said.

"As near as I can tell," Michael said, "nobody has ever heard of them except you."

Michael began walking along the shore, away from the fishermen.  Bruce kept up with him.

"I hate to break it to you, kid," Michael said, "but you've made a big mistake."

"No, I haven't!" Bruce said.  "Is your red light blinking?"

Michael looked at his wrist.  "Like crazy," he said.

"Well, try thinking straight!" Bruce said angrily.  "It's blinking because something's wrong.  What's wrong is that the Wright Brothers are supposed to be here and they're not.  That light won't stop blinking until you get them here."

Michael seemed to be listening, but Bruce couldn't be sure.  After a pause, he added, "So, we've got to go to Dayton, Ohio."

Michael stopped walking and glared down at Bruce.  "Never heard of it," he growled.

"Dayton is a little town in Ohio," Bruce said, standing his ground. "That's where we have to go."

"First," Michael said menacingly, "you foul up our escape.  Then you make me leave Elise in the middle of World War I.  Then you drag me halfway across the world to find two guys nobody's ever heard of.  And now I'm supposed to take you to this---Dayton?"

Bruce didn't back away one inch.  "Because that's where their bicycle shop is," he said.

"No, kid," Michael said. "This is it.  Time for us to go our separate ways.  You're in America.  It's the same century. And that may be the best I can do." He turned to walk away.  "So let's just call it a day."

"Can it!" Bruce screamed, and Michael stopped walking.  "You're stuck with me until you put me back in my room where you got me."

He took advantage of Michael's hesitation.  He stepped in front of him and looked up defiantly.

"Besides," Bruce added confidently, "you don't know anything about history.  Without me, you're going to mess everything up."

Michael looked down at him, with a curious gleam in his eye.  The anger was gone.  He seemed amused, probably more at himself than anything else.  Bruce was relieved that Michael didn't even try to deny what he'd just said.

Instead, Michael changed the subject.  "What was that 'father' business?" he asked roughly.  "I haven't met a woman that beautiful in four hundred years.  I don't need you around passing yourself off as a son I don't even have!  What about your own father?  What would he say about that?"

"My father's dead," Bruce said.

Carried away by his fake anger, Michael said, "I wouldn't be surprised if you killed him yourself!"

Bruce's eyes widened in horror at what he'd just heard.  His face melted into sadness, and his eyes filled up with tears.  He turned and ran.

"Hey, kid!" Michael called.  "Wait a minute!  I'm sorry!  I didn't mean that!"

Bruce kept running, and Michael took off after him.  He caught up quickly, but he had to tackle Bruce around the ankles to get him to stop.

They fell to the sand, Bruce struggling to get free of Michael's powerful grip.

"Let me go!" he cried, kicking and punching. "Let me go!"

"Take it easy, young fella," Michael said tenderly. "Just calm down."

Bruce ran out of strength and quit struggling.  They lay on the sand, the boy sobbing, cradled in the man's arms.

"I'm sorry," Michael whispered.  "I'm really sorry."

When the sobbing stopped, Michael let him go.  He helped Bruce to his feet.  Then he knelt in front of him.

"Go ahead and hit me," Michael said. "I deserve it."

Bruce looked at him for a long moment.  Then he lowered his eyes and walked slowly alongside him.

"Okay, how about telling me what happened," he suggested.

They walked in silence.  Then Bruce let out a deep sigh. 

"We were walking out of a theater uptown," he said.  "We were watching a hit musical.  I guess I didn't make it through the show.  I fell asleep and my father woke me up.   We began walking up this deserted street.  And then this guy appeared out of nowhere and pointed a gun at us, demanding our money."

Michael whistled.  "And your parents wouldn't give it to him?"

"Well," Bruce continued, "What happened next was, he saw my mother's pearl necklace and told her to give it to him.  She wouldn't do it, and the guy tried to rip it off her neck.  Dad tried to protect her, and that's when he shot him.  My mother screamed, and she got shot, too."

Bruce stopped and looked out over the water.  He was thinking about their murder.  Michael was careful not to make a sound.  Then Bruce lay on the damp sand and continued.

"It was awful!  All I could do was stare down at them. There was blood everywhere!"

His had his eyes closed now.  But the tears made their way out anyway.

"I tried to tell the cops what happened, but I couldn't.  I couldn't tell them anything!"

Michael bent down and put a hand on the boy's shoulder.  "And you're ashamed of yourself because you couldn't help the police catch your parents' killer?" he said. "Kid, even if the cops had caught that fiend, it wouldn't have brought your parents back, believe me."

He stood up and looked out over the water.  "You want to talk about something to be ashamed of," he said, "I'll tell you about me and Waterloo.  See, Napoleon was never supposed to be there. The guidebook had a plan for the General.  This doctor in Paris was supposed to put in him in the hospital for his ulcer.  Trouble was, I couldn't find the hospital, and....."

He looked down.  Bruce was sound asleep, his face streaked with tears.

Michael took off his coat and carefully laid it over Bruce's small body.  He pulled it over the boy's shoulder, to make sure he wouldn't get chilled.

Then he stood up, shook his head, and smiled.  He checked his Omni.  The light was still blinking.

"Dayton," he said. "Dayton, Ohio, where we'll visit the bicycle shop of the Wright Brothers."