Somewhere in Time by Richard Matheson Page B

Each of its four white globes was attached to the end of a curved, tubelike metal stem. Electricity, I thought. I'd known they had it, but somehow it seemed anachronistic to me.
    I lowered my gaze and looked toward the closet, which was in the same place. Its door was ajar and I saw two suits hanging inside, a pair of boots below them, two hats on an upper shelf. I stared at them for several minutes until, suddenly, the thought occurred to me that the owner of these articles might, at any moment, enter the room. I had to leave.
    Realization flooded through me then. I was in the same place as Elise.
    I tried to stand too quickly and, again, the spinning darkness threatened to engulf me. I would not permit myself to slump back down. Clinging to the headboard, I drew in shaking breaths until the spell of vertigo had lessened. Then I let go of the headboard and tried to stand on my own. Instantly, I had to clutch back at the heavy wood. My God, I thought. Is this the way it's going to be? How could I hope to navigate through an entire hotel when I couldn't even hold myself up?
    Gritting my teeth, I willed myself to let go of the headboard, fought away an urge to grab at it again, and managed to stand waveringly on my legs like some uncertain infant about to try his first step. The simile is appropriate. As an 1896 man, I was, almost literally, newborn; obliged to learn the use of my limbs in this new and unfamiliar world.
    At last, the quivering passed and, drawing in a breath of air to brace myself (1896 air, the thought came to me), I attempted my initial step. My legs threatened to buckle and I took my next step in a sideways manner, like a drunken man. Hastily, I took another, then another, in much the lurching fashion of Karloff's Frankenstein monster, hands clawing out for support. I barely managed to reach the bureau without falling. Toppling against it, I leaned on its top with both hands, staring at the mirror, my reflection as undulant as though I viewed it in stirred water. I closed my eyes.
    More than a minute later, I think, I opened them and took a guarded look at the mirror. The pallor of my face made me wince. I looked like someone risen from his deathbed. Was that a physical concomitant of traveling through time, I wondered?
    "I think you left your blood behind," I told the whey-faced stranger in the mirror. He flinched at the unexpected sound of my voice, then smiled in wan agreement. I saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed. "You'll make it though," I said. He nodded with acceptance.
    I looked down at the bureau top, surprised to note that I hadn't knocked over any of the several objects on it: a gold-bordered shaving mug with a damp brush standing upside down inside it, an ivory-handled straight razor, an ornate whiskbroom, and something I didn't recognize- what looked like a silver knife handle.
    Curious, I picked it up with my right hand and looked more closely at it. I still couldn't tell what it was. Straightening, I used my left hand to pull at a knotted ribbon and drew, from the handle, a clump of narrow fabric strings held together by the ribbon. The top strip was made of thin metal, with the words 'heal all wounds save those of love' printed on it. I felt a stickiness on the back of one of the fabric strips and decided, after several moments, that it was some kind of hemostatic substance used on shaving nicks. I put the strips back in the handle and set it down. I had to get out of the room before the man returned. The imagined prospect of attempting to explain my presence chilled me. How grotesque, after having succeeded in reaching 1896, to end up being arrested for breaking and entering. Or did they use that phrase?
    I was able to stand without support now, albeit with difficulty. I gazed again at the harried-looking specter in the mirror. How was I to do this? I thought. Being on my feet was difficult enough. The idea of walking through endless corridors to find Elise cowed me.
    I found myself