Typically in those stories, the time traveler was dragged off to a jail far from his space ship or time travel machine which was broken.
  "Let him speak for himself," said the crouching man. "Do you know her?"
  Barry looked a the veiled woman, who uncovering her face with the grey plaid veil looked an awful lot like Molly Jones.
  "Wait? Why is everyone speaking English?"
  The man pointed to just above Larry's head where a tongue of flame floated.
  "I've traveled into something that isn't real. This is just a fictitious place."
  "It is," said the man. "Real stones, though." And he pointed to a blackened mural of a small cluttered room illuminated by a solitary crack of light.