The Inheritance Paradox
Copyright© 2026 by aroslav
Chapter 8
Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 8 - A gripping tale of time travel, family secrets, and redemption. Nathaniel Holbrook uncovers his father’s extraordinary past, spanning centuries and shaping humanity’s future, while confronting profound truths about legacy, love, and identity. A thought-provoking journey through time, history, and the enduring bonds of family.
Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Historical Time Travel
(Eugene’s Story)
THEY AWOKE in a tight embrace, their clothes still damp where they were pressed between them. The rain had stopped and even though it was early, the temperature had started to rise. About twenty others were packed in the narrow space beneath the bridge and the smell of bodies in tight quarters was beginning to mount. They found the places where they could relieve themselves and then started for the street above them.
The woman who had organized things under the bridge the night before invited everyone to her for a piece of bread, but that was all she had. No one else admitted to having any food. As they chewed, Eugene and Sasha climbed the riverbank and started across the bridge. The west side of the river was a stark contrast to the east. This area seemed hardly touched by the fire. They walked along a street that was ordinary except for the number of people on it. Empty wagons and teams were headed toward the burned-out city, apparently to recover what they could. There were occasional wagons with broken wheels or traces abandoned at the side of the street. Some of the people headed into the city looked less than reputable, but Eugene supposed he didn’t really know what looked disreputable in this timeframe. If he looked at himself, he’d make the same assessment.
Soon, they came to the railroad depot. A train was just pulling out and there were soldiers blocking the entrance of the station.
“Don’t leave Chicago!” a soldier called to crowds of people headed toward the station. “We need everyone to help clear and rebuild. The only trains that will be arriving in the next day or two are supply trains for rebuilding. Do not attempt to catch a freight train going south.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” Eugene said. “We could have made a faster trip to Joliet.”
“I don’t know if I can walk that far. My ankle is still bothering me,” Sasha said.
“Maybe we can wrap it. Let me see what I have in my bag,” Eugene said. He hadn’t really looked in the knapsack Wells had given him.
You have a spare union suit. Tear a strip off of it.
“Ah, yes. I can cut a bit of my spare clothes. I wasn’t sure what I’d managed to bring with me. It was rather a hurried trip,” Eugene said.
“I can’t believe you are so kind,” Sasha said. “I can’t repay you.”
“I’m not asking for any payment,” Eugene said. “Let’s just say there is a lot in my life I need to make up for. I’ll do what I can to help you.”
“I want you to tell me all about that,” she said as he tore the strip of fabric and began binding her ankle to give it more stability. She wore lightweight boots that didn’t offer much support. Eugene managed to combine wrapping beneath the leather and over it to make her ankle more stable.
“You can still lean on me, or I’ll carry you when you need,” he said.
“Where did you come from?” Sasha asked. They turned south on the next street.
“Oh. Uh ... Michigan,” Eugene said. “I kind of came out of the lake.”
Nice. Blame me.
“You just happened to get to me when I needed you most.”
You left me just when I needed you most.
“Found her,” Eugene growled.
So, we can rewrite the lyrics.
“Yes. You found me,” Sasha said. “I feel like maybe we’re connected in some way. You just happened to get to Chicago from Michigan, out of the lake, and wandered through a burned-out city until you found me trapped in a well-house.”
She’s beginning to sound like Lynn.
“Maybe we’re all connected if we let ourselves become aware of it,” Eugene said.
“Do you have a family in Michigan you are going back to?” Sasha asked.
She’s probing.
“Sort of. I’ll need to go back. I won’t leave until I get you safely to Joliet, though,” Eugene said.
“Hmm,” she hummed.
In only a hundred yards or so south of the train depot, they were back in burned rubble. Eugene saw she was still limping and offered to carry her again. She accepted the offer, climbing onto his back. He was quite aware of her soft body pressing against him, supported by his hands under her thighs. She hugged him tightly, seeming to acknowledge the contact as well. They didn’t rush the pace but continued steadily into the area known as The Patch.
They could see men prowling amidst the rubble, pulling out things of value they found.
“We should be cautious here,” Eugene said. “These people don’t look friendly.”
Do you blame them after what they’ve been through?
Eugene tightened the grip on his club beneath Sasha’s butt. She squirmed a little.
“Maybe I should walk again. I can make it and it will leave your hands free if needed,” she said.
Eugene set her down and placed an arm protectively around her to help support her. Occasionally there was a building still standing, unreasonably missed by the conflagration. Just ahead, they saw one such house. The outbuildings were burned and a cow was tethered nearby, attempting to find fodder in the charred grass. They saw an older woman standing at the door with a shotgun. Three men were advancing on her.
“You just stay away. This place ain’t burnt. It’s my home and you can’t have it.”
“We’ll leave you the house if you just let us have anything we want from inside,” said one of them. They seemed younger than most of the refugees to Eugene—hardly out of their teens, if that.
“I swear I’ll shoot you down before you set foot inside my home,” she yelled back at them.
“Aw, Granny. You don’t want to do that. Is that thing even loaded? You let us in or we’ll make sure this place joins the rest of the houses burnt up yesterday. Pretty unfair for an Irish woman to get off when your neighbors got burnt,” said the man who appeared to be leading the other two.
You should avoid this! Go around!
“Not a chance,” Eugene said. He let go of Sasha and gripped the club in both hands.
“I warn you!” the old woman said, raising the shotgun to her shoulder.
“Hey, you fellas,” Eugene yelled, coming up behind them. “You can’t go around stealing anything you want. This place doesn’t belong to you!”
“Mind your own affairs, beggar. We got here first. We’re taking this place and everything in it. She can’t even aim that gun straight.”
“Well, she’s not alone now,” Eugene said. He and Sasha circled around them next to the cow to stand between the woman and her aggressors.
“You’re choosing the wrong side in this war, old man. We take what we want,” said the youth.
“Like that girlie with you,” said one of the others. “You should have stayed away if your daughter’s precious to you.”
Eugene growled and hefted the charred branch he still carried.
“I’ve faced worse than you boys,” he said.
That’s kind of bravado. You attacked them by surprise. These punks are onto you.
“Girl, you come up here with Catherine,” the old woman said. “They’ll have to come through me to get you if they get past your man.”
Not knowing what else to do and having nothing to defend herself with, Sasha stepped up on the porch and the old woman whispered to her. She went into the house and appeared a minute later with a cleaver. She had something she could help defend with now.
“Just turn around and leave,” Eugene instructed them. “You don’t want this fight.”
Eugene’s heart was racing and he was fighting off panic himself. He’d never been a fighter. The attack behind the bar had not been a fair fight, as Galahad said. He’d surprised them. There was no surprise here.
The boys assessed the situation and decided they could take out Eugene first and then just have the women to deal with. They kept Eugene between them and the woman’s shotgun, believing correctly she would not risk shooting him. They pulled nasty-looking knives from their belts, and one made a feint toward him.
If you die, Wells won’t be able to fix you, even if I can get you back.
“Shut up,” Eugene spat. “I’m busy.”
“You’re gonna be busy,” the leader said. He lunged and Eugene hit the man’s knife hand, eliciting a cry of pain and anger.
“Just warming up,” Eugene said. “I can get hits off of you three all day long.”
The other two rushed toward him and he side-stepped, hitting one squarely in the jaw. He jerked back into his buddy, getting a cut on the arm. The first was back with the third and both attacked from opposite sides.
Remind me to make sure you always carry a bat.
The shotgun boomed beside Eugene. He jumped to the side, swinging at the third guy. He connected with the guy’s ear and dropped him to one knee. The first hood was screaming in pain on the ground, holding his leg. The old woman came down off the porch, still pointing the shotgun at the kid.
“You ain’t hurt! Crawl off my property, you curs,” she shouted. The one she’d shot tried to get up and reached out to his buddy who was holding a bleeding arm where the third guy had cut him.
“You son of a bitch!” the guy Eugene hit on the ear yelled. He swung upward with his knife.
Eugene’s makeshift bat wasn’t positioned correctly to get a good swing in. He tried to get it between them.
“Ow! Fuck!” the assailant screamed. “She cut my finger off!”
Before the knife had reached its target, Sasha had swung her cleaver at him. It was a lucky blow that hit his hand and cut the knife free. He clutched his hand to his chest and stumbled backwards with his buddies, cursing them all the way.
“You’ll regret this!” the one who’d been shot yelled. They continued screaming at them until they were out of sight.
“Thank you,” Eugene said, putting an arm around Sasha.
They’ll be back.
“Thank you both,” the older woman said. “Don’t know what I’d have done without you. I only had one barrel loaded with rock salt to keep the strays away from my chickens.”
“We couldn’t leave you to defend yourself alone,” Sasha said. “I’ll take this in the house and scrub the blood off it if you like.” She held up the bloody cleaver.
“Yes, yes. Come into the house, both of you. You look like you’re starving. Did you lose everything in the fire?”
“Yes. I’m afraid if Eugene hadn’t rescued me, I’d have lost my life as well,” Sasha said.
Eugene let her manage the conversation. He didn’t want to volunteer too much information to yet another person. He already felt obligated to tell only the truth to Sasha and wouldn’t go making up stories for the convenience of others.