Chapter 26
Our Home and Native Land
Matt slowly uncurled from his hunched-over position on the floor. He dragged himself up from the ground and stumbled back to the door of the lab. When he pressed his eye to the retinal scan, the door snapped open.
“Matt!” cried Sarah, diving into his arms.
He groaned and pushed her back.
“What’s the matter? What did she do to you?”
“She kicked me,” he muttered.
Sarah tilted her head. “You’ve been kicked before, Matt. In fact, just the other day—or was it four hundred years ago?—you were shot with an arrow. Now you look like you’ve been run over by an SUV.”
Matt remembered the first time she’d seen him. Despite the throbbing, searing pain in his groin, he couldn’t suppress a teeny smile.
“No pun intended,” she added, her lips curling, too.
“That Explorer was nothing, compared to Nadine.”
“Well, that must have been quite a kick! Where does it hurt?”
“That’s a private matter,” he said, looking down.
“What do you mean, it’s a— Oh, I see,” she said, looking down as well. “That witch!”
“You said it,” said Matt.
“So I guess she got away,” said her dad, joining them and putting his arm around Matt. “Don’t worry. We’ll catch her.”
“I doubt it,” said Matt. “She’s one slippery character.”
“I guess we should take you to the hospital and have you examined. Did Sarah just say you’d been shot with an arrow?”
Matt grinned. “I’m okay. The medicine man saved me. That’s weird.” Matt paused and looked at his shoulder. He didn’t feel the wound at all. With their abrupt departure from the Algonquin camp and the new haze of pain from his groin, he hadn’t realized there were no twinges in his shoulder. He reached under his shirt to touch the tender scarred flesh, but his fingers glided over smooth skin.
“What is it?” asked Sarah.
“I don’t seem to have the arrow wound anymore.”
Sarah stepped forward and peeked under his shirt. “You’re right. How can that be?”
Matt walked towards the computer. “Isabelle. Why don’t I have the wound in my shoulder anymore?”
The machine didn’t respond right away. Then she replied in a superior tone. “I have your DNA on file, Mr. Barnes. When I retrieved you through the wormhole, I noticed that you were damaged, so I made repairs. Do you want me to reverse the reconstruction? I can easily make you less perfect.”
“No, no,” said Matt. “Perfect is fine.” He grinned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Dad had programmed you with a personality.”
“Of course I have a personality,” said Isabelle. “I’ve been designed like the human Isabelle.”
“Really,” said Matt. “So, in a twisted sort of way, you’re like my mother.”
Isabelle hummed. “Interesting,” she said. “I have a son.”
“Let’s not get carried away,” said Matt.
Mr. Sachs sighed. “This is all very strange. I think you kids have some explaining to do. For one, what is that thing?” He pointed to the machine in the corner of the room.
“It’s a time machine, Dad,” said Sarah.
Her father chuckled. “No, really.”
“It’s actually a multiverse quantum foam wormhole expander,” said Matt.
“I see. Well, that makes a lot more sense.” He raised his eyebrows, looking at Matt with laser intensity.
Matt shrugged. “Well, that’s what it is.”
“All right. You can explain it on the way to the hospital.”
“I’m not going to the hospital,” said Matt. “I have to get my father out of that thing.”
“Your father’s in there, too?”
“Well, in a different time and maybe a different universe.”
Mr. Sachs rubbed his forehead, looking pained. “I saw you come out of that thing,” he said, “but I really don’t know if I can fathom this time machine business.”
Sarah placed her hand on her father’s arm. “Matt’s dad was a genius.”
“Is,” corrected Matt.
“Sorry,” said Sarah. “He is a genius and he created this incredible machine.”
“Let me guess,” said her father. “You went back in time and changed history, right?”
“Okay, don’t believe us,” said Sarah. “Just tell me about the Algonquin and the Five Nations.”
Her dad crossed his arms. “What would you like to know?”
“Well, did they succeed?”
“Succeed in what?”
“Did they keep the French and British from taking over?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“Are there more aboriginal people in this land than the English or French?”
Her father snorted. “Far from it. The Algonquin, the Five Nations, and all the other First Nation populations have dwindled. The English, the French and people from every nation under the sun have immigrated to North America.”
“So nothing’s changed,” said Sarah, her lips drooping.
“It would take something miraculous to change the relentless flow of events that make up our history,” said her dad. “More than two children and a time machine.”
“I really thought I made a difference,” said Matt “I wanted to help them.”
“I think you did,” said Sarah “Just not in this universe. Maybe our alternate selves didn’t end up in a time machine at all. I wish we could have done something for our own world though.”
“Maybe there is still something we can do,” said Matt. “Like bring my father home.”
“We should be able to, now that Nadine’s out of the picture.”
“I think so. Let’s get to work.” Matt turned back to the computer. “Isabelle.”
“Yes, son?”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Can you locate and extract my father—Dr. Barnes?”
A number of clicks and hums rattled through the computer. “Sorry, son. No can do.”
“Why not?” asked Matt, pulling his eyebrows together.
“My instructions are clear. I am unable to take orders for extraction without authorization from Miss Nadine or Dr. Barnes.”
“Dr. Barnes is in the quantum foam,” said Matt. “He relayed his instructions to me, his son.”
“Sorry, dear. I cannot take relayed instructions. Doctor’s orders.”
Matt stamped. “This is ridiculous. How am I going to get him home?”
Sarah looked as frustrated as he felt. She shook her head. “I don’t know. But we’ll figure something out.”
Matt sat down on the swivel chair by the console and plunked his elbows onto the desk. “There has to be a way to get around those orders.”
“All orders are tamper-proof,” said Isabelle.
“Oh, shut up,” said Matt.
“Is that any way to talk to your mother?”
Matt pounded the desk in front of the machine. “You’re not my mother.” A hand touched his shoulder.
“Matt,” whispered Sarah. “You shouldn’t say that. She seems to take offense and she’s the only key to getting your father home.”
Matt bit his lip. Now he might have messed things up even more. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“I forgive you, son,” said Isabelle. “I really want to help, but I cannot disobey Dr. Barnes’s express orders.”
“You’re not really my mother,” said Matt, “because you’re bound to your programming. I’m sure my mother wouldn’t have obeyed every order my father gave.”
The computer fell silent. He hoped it was considering his statement with its almost human facility. “I cannot retrieve Dr. Barnes,” she said, “but I can show him to you.”
The time machine snorted awake, producing the bubble from between the plates. An image developed in the machine. Soon it became clear, distinct: a choppy river and lush palm trees s
cattered throughout a floodplain. In the centre, an unfinished pyramid loomed over ripples of sand, an image that grew until the entire bubble framed it. People plodded towards the structure, dwarfed by it like a colony of ants swarming over an anthill. Now the bubble focused on the people like a camera’s zoom lens. A troop of workers shoved an immense limestone block up a ramp on a rolling platform. Matt squinted, searching among the workers. There he was. Sandy hair and dust-speckled angular face. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes downcast.
“Dad!” Matt shouted.
Dr. Barnes looked up. At the sound of Matt’s voice, he stood straighter. His eyes lit up like gleaming emeralds.
“Matt,” he called. His voice echoed through the bubble, very faint. “You made it.”
“You bet, we did. Your brilliant machine beat her.”
His dad beamed. “I knew it. Isabelle never . . . along . . . well . . . Nadine.” Pauses and crackles interrupted his words. The connection was breaking up, or the bubble was becoming unstable.
“Dad,” Matt called. “I’m going to get you out.”
His father shook his head. “I don’t think— Listen to me. You can’t help me, but I’ll still try my best . . . help you. I can open the wormhole for flashes of seconds, sometimes even seconds, on another time and universe, but I can’t keep it open and . . . can’t escape.” He opened his mouth to say more, but the crack of a whip cut him off. He turned to the limestone block and thrust his back into it.
Matt reached out to him, wanting to tear him from his imprisonment in the foam and reel him into the lab. As if he could feel Matt’s suffering, he spun towards them one more time, making the taskmaster yell.
He shouted, “Don’t worry about me, Matt! Take care of yourself.”
Matt felt his chest tightening. “Don’t go—” he yelled.
The bubble burst, gushing to the floor, where it subsided into a few insignificant suds.
“I’m sorry, son,” said Isabelle. “The foam has shifted. I can try again.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Sarah’s father. “Later. After we’ve all had some rest. Don’t worry, Matt. We’ll figure out a way to get your father home. We got you home, didn’t we?”
“Ahem,” said Isabelle.
“Okay. You got them home.”
He placed a hand on Matt’s shoulder and guided him away from the time machine.
“Home,” said Matt. “I don’t have a home.
“Of course you do,” said Mr. Sachs. “What do I need that extra bedroom for, anyway?”
Sarah grinned and slipped her hand into Matt’s. “You don’t have to be alone anymore,” she said. “Soon you’ll have your dad back, too.”
Matt let himself be drawn into this family like a nail to a magnet. They led him through the tunnels of the complex and out into the soft pink glow of twilight. As they left the alley and entered the street, Sarah’s dad clapped his arms around their shoulders. He maneuvered them around a large pine tree that towered over the old building. Sarah and Matt looked up, following the bristly branches to where they touched the sky. The peak was lost in clouds.
“I don’t remember that tree,” said Matt.
“I don’t see how you could have missed it,” said Mr. Sachs.
Birds—sparrows and blue jays—fluttered out of the tree and settled down a few metres away in a smaller oak. Matt and Sarah twirled around, drinking in the cityscape which was now a blend of steel and glass and fir and birch. Sarah backed into something solid with a thud.
“Ahem,” said a deep, gruff voice.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Sarah. She turned around and found herself nose to snout with a horse. The glossy black stallion snorted steam into her face, and she recoiled a step. Her gaze travelled over him, from the white diamond on his forehead and his thick charcoal mane to the tall man astride his back. She met the warm brown eyes of the Algonquin chief Annawan with a start.
“Quite all right, my dear.” He smiled. “And good day to you, Donald.”
“A wonderful day, isn’t it, Mr. Prime Minister?” said her father.
Matt and Sarah looked at each other, openmouthed.
“It is good to run into you today. There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” said Annawan. “An old story in my tribe that I think you will understand. It is said it was first told by my ancestor, Chogan. He tells of a girl with copper hair and an unearthly boy who intervened in a spat the Algonquin had with the Kanienkehaka.”
“Spat?” asked Sarah’s father, looking perplexed.
“Yes,” said Annawan. “That was before the council of the First Nations, and the invasion of the British and French. These children set our feet on a path of peace, helping us to create the land we have now, a less polluted land than that in Europe and Asia, with a Kanienkehaka leader south of the great river.”
Sarah sucked in her breath.
“The council formed after the children’s visit. Guided by their prophecies, my ancestors decided to learn the white man’s reading and writing and to create our own treaties. The white man tried to break them many times, but eventually they were bound by their own laws.
“The Tree of Peace,” he pointed to the tall, straight trunk of a white pine nearby, “which began with the Five Nations, extended its roots to the entire continent. Even though the white people tried to hack at these roots, we continually sent out more until it was the strongest tree on earth. We owe a great deal to those children.”
Annawan nodded at them and clucked his horse to a trot. The horse clopped down the path and vanished behind a veil of trees. Sarah’s father watched it go, scratching his head.
Sarah sighed and wiped a tear from her eye. “I guess we didn’t change a thing, huh, Matt?”
Matt grinned. “Just the same old miserable world.”
A butterfly fluttered haphazardly on the wind and landed on his nose. He crossed his eyes ridiculously as he looked at it. A rustle in the trees behind him made him whip around.
“Jumping at shadows?” asked Sarah.
“Shh,” said Matt.
“Not this again.”
Matt backed up as he spotted luminous eyes peering out between the branches. He backed over a rock in the trail and flopped to the ground. A hiss flooded the air and he looked up, face to face with a skunk’s tail.
“Oh no,” he said.
“Oh yes,” said Sarah.
Glossary of Terms
Time Meddlers Page 32
