The Timepiece and the Girl Who Went Astray: A thrilling new time travel adventure

by O. R. Simmonds

  ‘Yeah, about that. Would you mind explaining what the hell kind of circumstance this is?’

  ‘You said that I gave you the Timepiece, correct?’

  ‘Yeah. Well, you sold it to me actually,’ Will said.

  ‘Interesting. Something in the plan has obviously altered and you’ve been sent instead. Have you been told nothing of why you’re here?’

  ‘Nothing. I was given the watch, then it made my fiancée disappear. Then all those coded messages led me here.’

  A look of pleasant surprise appeared on Frenz’s face. ‘Do you mean to say that you found your way here with no direction at all?’

  ‘Well, yeah, so what?’ Will said.

  ‘It’s impressive. That or I’ve gotten lax in my old age. Still, this changes nothing.’

  ‘Changes nothing? The woman I love is missing! That’s all that matters right now.’

  ‘Be that as it may, I still need your help.’

  ‘I was actually hoping you could help me, not the other way around.’

  ‘You really have no idea of the significance of what you have strapped to your wrist, do you?’

  Will glanced at the Timepiece, still shimmering on his wrist. ‘Well, no. Nobody told me exactly what this thing really is.’

  ‘If you had been told what the Timepiece really was, would you have believed it?’

  ‘No, probably not. Is this really a time machine?’

  ‘Well, time machine is a rather simplistic term, but yes, it is. How did your fiancée disappear, what happened exactly?’

  ‘I don’t know. She was holding the Timepiece and it activated somehow. Then this glowing thing on the table made a noise which must have startled her because she dropped it. I caught it, but when I did it must have deactivated. When I turned back to Abigayle, she was gone. You need to help me get her back.’

  ‘Before we do anything, we must get out of here,’ Frenz said in a noncommittal voice.

  ‘Are you serious? We’re not going anywhere until we get her back!’

  ‘Please, my friend, you need to calm down.’ Frenz regarded Will carefully for a moment. ‘You really weren’t told anything about this plan, were you?’

  ‘No, I wasn’t! All I wanted was to get Abigayle something nice for our anniversary and now she’s missing and I’m in jail. In two different time periods, apparently!’

  ‘Okay, any moment now,’ Frenz said, looking at his watch.

  ‘What’re you…’ Will’s words trailed off as a low-pitched whine rang out from somewhere outside the prison.

  The sound began quiet and distant, then it transformed, becoming higher-pitched and seeming to travel towards them, getting closer and closer. It moved at speed until it was on top of them, right outside the cell window. The sound was deafening when it was close, but as quickly as the sound had risen it fell away. After a brief pause the sequence repeated itself once more. Starting distant and low and rumbling closer. It was only the second Will had heard an air raid siren in person. The first time he’d heard one was in history class in the fifth grade. Will said, ‘Is that what I think it is?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. This is 1940, London. There is a war on, after all.’

  ‘Okay, okay. I see what you’re doing. You’re just trying to scare me into helping you get out of here. I may be new to this whole time-travel thing, but I’ve read enough comics and seen enough movies to know how this stuff works. So, nice try, but this building is still standing in 1984, so we’re safe in here for another forty-four years.’

  ‘I’m afraid this is no trick. We are both in imminent danger,’ Frenz cautioned.

  ‘Look, Mr. Belingi, I already told you: this building is still standing in 1984. We’re fine.’

  ‘Please call me Frenz. And tell me, Will, was my cell still standing?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘My cell. Was it still there in 1984?’

  ‘Well, no. There was just a wall. But it was taken out for improvements to the building. Right?’ The more he spoke, the more Will lost confidence in his own words.

  ‘Wrong. At 01:27 a.m. a German high-explosive shell will drop from a Nazi warplane and hit this building. The east wing will be completely destroyed. The time is now.’ Frenz glanced at his watch again. ‘01:21 am. We have six minutes to get out of here.’

  ‘What? Why the hell did you have me come back here only ten minutes before this place is going to explode?’

  ‘I was expecting my rescuer to be aware of the plan and prepared to act quickly.’

  ‘Why even put yourself in a building that’s about to get blown up in the first place?’ Will said.

  ‘It’s all part of the plan,’ Frenz said, speaking more quickly now. ‘My cell is destroyed and as far as the authorities are concerned, I am dead. I no longer exist. Being an invisible man has its advantages.’ The siren continued to wail in the background.

  Will looked down at the Timepiece, vibrating on his wrist, then back up to Frenz Belingi. ‘We’re not going anywhere until I have your word that you’ll help me get Abigayle back.’

  ‘William,’ Frenz said, moving closer to the bars with his arms outstretched. ‘We can talk about this when –’

  ‘No, we talk about this now. Don’t think I won’t let this building collapse on both of us! If I get us out of this, do I have your word that you’ll tell me exactly what this thing is and how we use it to find Abigayle?’

  Frenz blinked frantically, shook his head, cleared his throat. ‘Very well. You have my word, my friend,’ he said with conviction. ‘I can see how much this person means to you. If you help me, I will do whatever is in my power to help you.’

  Will held Frenz’s gaze for a moment and could see sincerity in his eyes. Will said, ‘Okay. Tell me what I need to do.’

  ‘This building wasn’t always a prison and these bars weren’t always here. So, it’s simple, we must transit to one of those times. A time when there are no bars or guards and we can walk out of here unmolested. Any time in the mid-1920s should do it. Then we both return to your original time and begin our search for your fiancée.’

  ‘I like that plan. But let’s be quick about it.’

  ‘Agreed. Now that you’ve activated the Timepiece, it’s likely that the Timekeepers will be tracking our location as we speak. It won’t take them long to find us.’

  Frenz approached the bars and invited Will to move the Timepiece towards him. Frenz began inputting values in preparation for their escape. He flinched when he first touched the Timepiece, which was now searing hot. ‘Dammit. It shouldn’t be running this hot,’ Frenz said. Covering his hand with his sleeve, he resumed his work.

  ‘Wait, who are the Timekeepers?’ Will asked.

  ‘They are the people I used to work for. And they aren’t the kind of people you would wish to cross paths with. Especially if they find you with the Timepiece on your wrist.’

  ‘These people, they don’t tend to wear tweed suits and flat caps by any chance, do they?’

  ‘That is part of the organisation’s dress code, yes. Why?’

  ‘Well, in that case, we can’t go back to 1984,’ Will said.

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Frenz asked, looking up from the Timepiece.

  ‘Well, they walked into the police station right before I turned this thing on. But that was back in 1984, so we’ll be safe here and in the 1920s, right?’

  Four minutes remaining.

  Panic flashed across Frenz’s face. He backed away from the bars and scurried to the bed in his cell. He flipped the mattress up on its side, revealing a journal. Randomly sized sheets of paper were jutting out in all directions. The cover of the journal was secured shut with a clasp, which Frenz quickly released. He began flicking through the journal at speed, running his index finger up and down the pages. Occasionally he would pull out a loose sheet of paper and examine both sides of it before discarding it and moving onto other pages.

  ‘What are you looking for? I thought you said we needed to get out of he
re?’ Will asked.

  ‘That is very true, we do, but not in the way I had originally planned. The Timekeepers have found us sooner than I thought and there’s only one stairwell leading to this cellar. We’re trapped down here, and they know it. They’ll be waiting for us at the top and it’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel.’

  Two minutes remaining.

  ‘Those guys with the guns? They’re here? In 1940?’

  ‘Yes. They followed you here,’ Frenz snapped.

  ‘How is that even possible? Isn’t this watch one of a kind?’

  ‘It is. Look, I don’t have time to explain now. Give me a moment, please.’ He continued to flick through the pages of the journal before finding what he was looking for. ‘Here!’ Frenz rushed back to the bars between Will’s cell and his own. He reached through the bars and grabbed a hold of Will’s wrist.

  ‘Hey! What the hell are you doing?’ Will said.

  ‘We need to go to 1872,’ Frenz said. He was busy at work, twisting and turning, sliding and switching settings on the Timepiece. ‘Are you ready?’ Frenz asked.

  ‘Ready? No, I’m not read –’ As Will began his protestations, a shot rang out and a bullet fizzed over both of their heads, cracking against the wall to Will’s right. The gunshot had that same strange, dull popping sound Will had heard at Frenz Belingi’s shop.

  Will turned to his left, where he saw two men emerging from the stairwell, charging towards them with their guns raised. Another bullet pinged off the cell bars. Will ducked and turned back to Frenz, who was still gripping hold of his arm.

  The gunmen stopped and the tall one said in calm, perfectly accented English: ‘Neither of you move or the next shot will be a touch lower. Understood?’

  Ten seconds remaining.

  ‘Will,’ Frenz whispered, ‘we have to go.’

  Will gave a shallow, barely discernible nod. The sound of large engines in the skies overhead and bombs exploding around them shook the floor as Frenz pressed the crown on the side of the Timepiece. Warmth rushed along Will’s arm and pulsed outwards in a stream of energy.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  February 5th, 1872, 01:25

  A sphere of energy expanded from the Timepiece until it enveloped the whole room. Will had expected to find the room transformed into something newer and crisper – a chance to see this building not too long after it had been built, in a time before it had become old and run-down. As he glanced around the room, however, he found the opposite to be true. The whole space was darker and even more musty and damp than it had been in 1940. A rank smell hung thick in the air. It was the putrid smell of decomposition. Something had died down here recently. Or long ago, depending on your perspective.

  Will’s feet suddenly felt cold and wet and a chill ran up his spine. He heard the sound of running water, quickly followed by a splash. In front of him the short, plump gunmen had stumbled over a floating wooden crate, which hadn’t been there a moment ago. He tumbled over it and fell into the water. The subsequent splash was so large that water struck the ceiling some three metres above.

  It was only now that Will looked down to find that he and Frenz were standing in water up to the middle of their shins. That explained the smell; the cellar was flooded. As well as the crate that had surprised one of their assailants, Will could see other things floating in the water. There was perished fruit and vegetables, animal faeces and any number of bloated carcases. All these things were now bobbing up and down in the wake caused by the gunman’s disturbance to the otherwise calm waters. Waves rippled out from the origin and reflected back off the walls, colliding with one another in a beautifully precise pattern.

  The fallen gunman was being helped to his feet by his lanky companion but appeared to return to his feet without a gun. The short one then plunged back down into the water and began rooting around, searching the shallow but opaque green pool for his weapon.

  His search was hampered further by the lack of light. The windows at the top of the walls were no longer there and the only light appeared to be coming from the two stairwells to their left and right. The stairwell to the right was a new addition – or old, technically speaking. Frenz had known that their only means of escape from the prison room would have been the single stairwell from which the two gunmen had emerged. Even with one of them down and unarmed, they surely wouldn’t have been able to pass them and climb the stairs before they had been shot. Now, however, there was an additional stairwell they could use, and they were far closer to it than their assailants. Somehow Frenz had known about that too.

  The instant Will had made this realisation, he felt a firm hand grab his forearm. He turned to find Frenz’s face close to his before he shouted, ‘Run, my friend. Now!’

  The two of them ran as fast as they could manage, lifting their feet high above the flood water in long bounds, towards the second set of stairs. While one of the gunmen continued to splash around in the water, the other pivoted towards them and opened fire. Bullets whizzed past and masonry exploded all around them. Miraculously, both Will and Frenz made it to the stairwell unscathed. It was almost identical to the one that Will had descended less than an hour earlier, one hundred and twelve years from now. This dizzying thought alone almost caused him to stumble as he scrambled up the steep and narrow steps, but the two of them reached the top without incident.

  Frenz pulled Will to the left and pressed through a set of doors into the open space beyond. They found themselves in a large, still room, startlingly different to the police station interior that Will had seen previously. Underfoot was a dark wooden floor with an intricate basket-weave pattern and dozens of tables and chairs scattered throughout. Most were upturned, many were broken, and splintered pieces of wood were strewn throughout. A centimetre-thick layer of clay-coloured dust covered every surface. The walls were divided evenly by thick, elegantly sculpted wooden pillars. Torn red fabric hung from the walls between them, framing the floor-to-ceiling windows. The windows were partially boarded up from the outside, and thin shafts of light seeped through at a steep angle from the gas-fired streetlamps outside.

  Will was in a daze. His head was snapping from side to side and up and down as he attempted to take in the new surroundings. The building he’d entered was so drastically different from the one he was now fleeing from. It was as if he’d become part of some grand illusion. If Harry Houdini or David Copperfield were waiting for them in the street outside with a full camera crew, he wouldn’t have been the slightest bit surprised.

  Frenz looked over his shoulder to find Will lagging behind and distracted. He called out, ‘William, come on, we have to keep moving.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m coming, I’m coming,’ Will said, slightly out of breath. ‘What is this place? Is this really the same building?’

  ‘Yes, it is. It’s not uncommon to find Georgian and Victorian buildings that have served many different purposes over the years,’ Frenz said as they ran through the room. ‘Before this one was a police station it was a theatre, then a workhouse, before becoming derelict. It then became an army training barracks before being converted to a police station after World War II.’

  ‘How the hell do you know so much about this building?’

  ‘It’s my job to know. Now, enough talking. We need to get outside, but we must be cautious. We mustn’t be seen by anyone. People are easily scared by what they don’t understand, and we can ill afford to cause a scene. Particularly your appearance. People from this era will not understand what they’re seeing.’

  ‘Hey, what are you trying to say?!’ Will said, stumbling as they turned a corner and entered a smaller room that Will intuited was the reception area of the police station.

  Frenz ignored the question. ‘Come, this way. This should lead us to the rear of the property and fewer prying eyes.’

  They headed towards a set of tall glass doors. They too were boarded up, but the glass from the left door had been broken. Shards of glass from the broken pane were piled up neatly to the
side of the window.

  Frenz approached the damaged door and began kicking at the boards, which had been nailed on from the outside. Will joined him, and they soon had two large boards free. Frenz ducked down and squeezed through the new opening. Will followed close behind, feet first. He was partway through when another shot rang out. The bullet struck one of the unbroken panes of glass in the door above his head and splintered through the wooden board behind it. Will moved to shield his head with his arms, bracing himself as the daggers of glass fell from above, when he felt hands grip around his ankles. Frenz pulled him through the opening, narrowly avoiding the glass as it rained down. Once outside, Will sprung to his feet, rubbing the grit free from his eyes as he and Frenz crossed a small, paved courtyard with a jungle of overgrown plants encircling it. The result of years of neglect. A thick green fog hung low in the ether. Visibility was little more than two or three metres in any direction. Will held his hands out in front of him as he walked, feeling his way.

  ‘I can barely see anything,’ Will said, coughing slightly.

  ‘This is London in the 1800s. The fog killed many, but it may help us escape,’ Frenz replied.

  ‘Jesus, I can barely breathe!’

  ‘There are almost six million people living here by now, with coal fires burning in every home,’ Frenz added, not breaking stride. ‘That’s what causes the fog, along with London’s geography and climate. They call it the pea-soupers, owing to the colour.’

  When they reached the far side of the courtyard, they stopped and ducked behind a low brick wall. They lay still for a moment. The distinctive sound of horse hooves and wooden cartwheels clattering over cobbled roads could be heard from the main street on the other side of the building.

  ‘Okay, now what?’ Will said.

  ‘Will, I need you to think,’ Frenz said, turning to face him in the murkiness of the fog. ‘Is there anything, anything at all that appears to be different about this place in your time? In 1984?’