by carl ashmore
‘From what … a plane?’
‘From the tree-house.’
‘The tree house?’ Joe puffed with amazement. ‘That’s like thirty feet high. It’s a good job you’re not dead.’
‘I’m not dead yet,’ he smiled.
‘And exactly how did you fall out of the tree?’ Uncle Percy asked, puzzled.
‘It was my error,’ Will replied. ‘And of no matter.’
Becky remembered the strange light in the forest the previous night. ‘When did you fall?’
‘In the deep of night.’
‘I thought I saw a light blast from a time machine around two. Was that you?’
‘There was no time machine, miss. Perhaps you saw my torch?’
Becky was considering this, when Uncle Percy spoke up.
‘Any broken bones?’
‘Nothing a bathe in the lake won’t remedy.’
Uncle Percy smiled. ‘I think a more thorough examination may be in order, William. Let’s go to the Medi-room.’
‘There is no need.’
‘Nonsense,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘And you can have a proper bath while you’re there.’ He turned to Becky and Joe. ‘Now this may take some time, but I’ve got plans for later, so meet me at the marble fountain at one o’ clock.’
‘The marble fountain?’ Becky asked, surprised.
‘In the courtyard.’
‘What kind of plans?’ Joe asked.
‘A trip.’
‘Where to?’
‘As I mentioned to Becky earlier, we’re going to Italy.’
‘Ace,’ Joe said. “Are we going to Ancient Rome? I’d love to see a gladiator fight in the Colosseum.’
‘Really?’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘I wouldn’t. Very nasty affairs. Anyway, no we’re not going to Rome.’
‘Why Italy then? Is it to do with Drake? The next Eden Relic?’
‘No. I just want to show you what I’ve arranged for the travelling community.’
‘What d’you mean arranged?’
‘Following the Megalodon attack at Christmas, I said it was Drake’s intention to “spawn a climate of fear” within the community. Anyhow, I decided to do the opposite … to make provisions to spawn a climate of peace and safety.’
Becky looked confused. ‘And?’
‘And I did … in 1950s Italy.’
‘What kind of provisions?’
‘You’ll have to wait and see.’
‘Okay,’ Joe said. ‘So if we’re going on a trip then why are we meeting at the fountain and not the Time Room?’
‘Because it’s time to meet Beatrix,’ Uncle Percy replied, eyes twinkling. He gestured at Will. ‘Now come, William, let’s go and take a look at your injuries.’ He turned to Becky and Joe. ‘See you at one…’
Becky and Joe watched them walk away.
‘Beatrix, eh?’ Joe said. ‘That must be the last of his time machines… he said he had five.’
‘I guess so. What do you reckon it’ll be?’
‘I hope it’s a Ferrari.’
‘But it’s more likely to be a fire engine.’
Joe took a few seconds to ask his next question. ‘D’you really think Will fell out of a tree?’
‘Why would he lie?’
‘I dunno,’ Joe replied. ‘It all seems a bit suss to me.’
Becky didn’t answer. She didn’t want to voice the fact she agreed with him - that there was something about Will’s explanation that did seem suspicious. And there was something different about him, too - something in his eyes, in his mannerisms, in the tone of his voice, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. And she couldn’t tell if it was something very good or extremely bad.
*
The next few hours passed in a heartbeat. Becky and Joe remained with Pegasus and Gump, playing in the fields, traversing the lakeside, skimming stones on the serene water. After returning to the Hall for lunch, they made their way to the marble fountain, still curious as to why they should meet there if they were embarking on a time trip. The sun had buried itself behind heavy cloud, tinting the air with a slight chill.
At one o’ clock, Becky and Joe stood at the fountain’s base. Crafted from Apuan marble, it depicted Neptune rising from a tempestuous ocean, wielding a trident in one hand and a seashell in the other; a giant eel enwrapped his body like a vine, spouting water from its open mouth, which crashed into a wide basin below.
Becky, however, barely noticed. She was disappointed to find no sign of Uncle Percy or his latest time machine. After a few minutes of waiting, she was about to suggest they go and find him when Neptune’s eyes flashed scarlet and a thunderous grinding echoed beneath their feet, making Becky and Joe take two steps back with astonishment.
‘What the –?’ Joe said.
All at once, the entire fountain moved steadily right as if on invisible wheels, revealing a large crater in the ground, fifty feet wide. Then, from below, a mass of shocking pink nylon swelled into view, filling the hole. Climbing higher, recognisable shapes appeared before them: a pair of jet-black eyes, a short, stubby snout, a set of tiny wings, and a broad toothy smile.
Becky’s heart was in her mouth. Beatrix was a hot air balloon in the shape of a winged pig.
Rising like a bubble-gum cloud, Beatrix soon filled Becky’s gaze. Then, just below her inflated trotters, suspended on six metal cables, a wicker basket emerged from below. Inside, Uncle Percy grinned at them. ‘Good afternoon … this is Beatrix,’ he announced, enjoying the shock on their faces. ‘What’re you waiting for? Climb aboard.’
Becky found herself rooted to the spot. ‘I-is it safe?’
Uncle Percy chuckled. ‘Of course, it’s safe.’
Stunned, Becky stepped forward as Uncle Percy opened the basket’s door. She walked in, quickly trailed by Joe. Clinging tightly to the basket’s handrail, she said, ‘Why did you make a balloon in the shape of a pig?’
‘I wanted to prove pigs really can fly,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Seriously, I’ve always been inspired by the novels of Jules Verne.’ He locked the door. ‘And his novel ‘Five weeks in a balloon’ was one of my childhood favourites, and triggered my interest in hot air balloons. Infact, I’d say I was something of a balloonatic.’ He laughed.
Becky and Joe didn’t join in.
‘So are you ready?’ Uncle Percy turned the blast valve. ‘Ballooning is such a wonderful way to travel.’ With a deafening roar, flames, six meters high, shot from a propane burner, filling the fabric above. They ascended quickly.
Becky looked down again. She couldn’t quite believe it. For the second time that day she was flying. But this time, she felt secure, relaxed even, as the world opened up leisurely below her.
They had only risen thirty feet or so when Uncle Percy said, ‘Much as I’m an admirer of the English countryside, we don’t want the residents of Addlebury distressed by a vanishing pig balloon. Let’s go to Italy.’ He typed in six digits on a chronalometer set beneath the burner. Just then, hazy light poured out of the control panel, igniting the cables above. Within moments, an echoing boom rent the air.
Becky’s stomach gave a jolt. They were suddenly thousands of feet in the air, drifting gracefully through a cloudless sky. Finding the courage to look down, she saw rolling hills, chestnut trees, winding streams and lengthy meadows of yellow and orange. She glanced over at Uncle Percy, who wore the most serene smile on his lips.
‘Ah, Italia …’ he whispered to no one in particular.
For some time, Becky and Joe watched the world pass them by in a captivated silence, exchanging smiles and pointing down from time to time. Then, on the horizon, they saw a large hill, carpeted deep green from countless olive trees, atop of which stood a medieval castle, which overlooked a partially walled city enclosing dozens of buildings.
‘The town of Balestrino,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘It dates back to the 11th century. It was abandoned in 1953 due to geological instability. And that’s precisely why we’ve arrived in 1954.’
‘But I still
don’t get it,’ Becky said. ‘It’s pretty and all that, but why are we here?’
‘Well, as you know, Emerson Drake made some quite serious threats against the community. I told you I would take them seriously. To cut a long story short, after Christmas I started to work on an idea to keep everyone in the travelling community as safe as I could. As time travellers are scattered all across the world, I thought I’d establish a safe haven where travellers could relocate, at least until Drake has been apprehended. Of course, I needed somewhere large enough to house upwards of two hundred travellers and their families. Anyway, I did my research and Balestrino fitted the bill.’
‘You put all the travellers all in one town?’ Becky said, surprised.
‘Those that wanted to come. As I said before, in 1953, the entire town was abandoned so there’s plenty of room. Now, obviously, because of my knowledge of the future, I know the area will suffer no significant seismic activity for nine months, so it’s safe enough for the time being, and that gives us enough time to perhaps find the remaining Eden relics and stop Emerson Drake. Anyway, after approval from the GITT committee, Barbie and I began to make the town fit for our needs. I’ve installed state of the art security and believe the community is as safe here as I can possibly make them. It also means there are plenty of experienced people working on finding your father. In fact, they’re more focused on that than ever.’
Becky smiled gratefully. ‘That’s very kind of them.’
‘Nonsense, they want to do it, ’ Uncle Percy replied.
As Uncle Percy began their descent, Becky inhaled deeply and looked down at Balestrino, its churches, terracotta roofed houses, narrow rickety streets appearing like tiny pieces in a board game. Even from this distance, she could see the light blasts of time machines, coming and going. And then it occurred to her just how different her life was from others her age. She was about to land in an abandoned town in 1950s Italy, a town inhabited entirely by time travellers.
And she was arriving in a flying pig.
Chapter 8
The Celestial Stowaway
The closer they descended toward Balestrino, the more Becky saw people rush from the tiny houses and wave excitedly at them, the treacly air soon filling with faint but enthusiastic shouts of welcome.
‘Beatrix certainly knows how to make an entrance,’ Uncle Percy beamed, waving back. Minutes later, he guided the balloon onto the town square. Upon touch down, applause echoed all around.
Overwhelmed, Becky scanned the hundreds of beaming faces, some of which she recognised - Keith Pickleton, Mary Cassidy, Malcolm Everidge, Terence Brown, and many more she didn’t.
As Uncle Percy opened the basket door, a mass of bodies rushed forward like a tidal wave, surrounding them.
‘Buon Giorno, everyone,’ Uncle Percy yelled over the din. He stepped out of the basket and began to shake as many hands as he could. ‘Hello, Keith, Saleem, Shirley, Katya … Deary me, what a wonderful welcome.’ He waited for the clamour to die down. ‘Everyone, may I introduce my niece and nephew, Becky and Joe Mellor. Some of you met them at Christmas, others may have been too concerned with being eaten by a prehistoric shark.’
As if some kind of celebrity, Becky was besieged with hand shakes, smiles and hearty slaps on the back. Then, amidst the horde of well-wishers, she heard a voice she recognised.
‘Well, well … if it ain’t me little pirate pals.’
A hulking man, his face hidden beneath a thicket of grey and brown whiskers, pushed his way to the front. He wore a wide-brimmed Stetson hat and walked stiffly as though wearing ill-fitting shoes.
‘Bruce!’ Joe bellowed.
‘Howdy, kid.’ Bruce Westbrook shook Joe’s hand, his grin wide and infectious.
Becky ran over and hugged him. ‘How are you, Bruce?’
‘As happy as a hyena seein’ you again, purdy lady.’
‘How’s the bullet wound?’ Joe asked.
Bruce gave an unconcerned shrug. ‘Gives me somethin’ to yak ‘bout in Famous Sam’s Bar, don’t it?’ he replied cheerily. ‘If anyone asks, I always say I got it brawlin’ an armed bank robber in Toledo.’ He laughed. ‘Best of all, the ladies just ‘bout love cooing over the battle scar. I’ll tell ya … I spend more time with my shirt off in Famous Sam’s than with it on. Shame the ladies don’t do the same. Anyhows, what’s been happenin’ with you, kid?’
‘Emerson Drake threw me off my school roof,’ Joe replied happily.
Bruce looked shocked for a moment. ‘Then you look pretty darn good all things considered. And what’s this ‘bout you findin’ this Spear of Fate without me?’
‘Yeah,’ Joe replied. ‘And we fed a Nazi to a load of mythical creatures.’
‘Good.’ Bruce nodded his approval. ‘I hate those damn Nazis.’
Uncle Percy walked over and shook Bruce’s hand. ‘Good day to you, Bruce.’
‘Howdy, Halifax,’ Bruce grinned. ‘Mighty fine town you found for us here.’
‘I’m glad you approve.’
‘What’s not to love? Italian food, first-rate Vermentino, and there’s a village nearby where there’s a signorina as sweet as a sunset and as obliging as a judge on the take, if ya catch my drift.’ He winked at Uncle Percy.
Uncle Percy frowned. ‘I don’t wish to catch anything from you, thank you very much.’
Becky scanned the town. Beyond the wall of cheery faces, time machines were parked chaotically in every available space – dozens of cars, old and new, motorbikes, a hang glider, a kayak, a Jet Ski, and, to her great surprise, what looked like a Western Stagecoach, pulled by two giant horses.
Becky watched as a tall, middle-aged woman with custard blonde hair approached Uncle Percy. She had brilliant blue eyes and an attractive yet purposeful face that radiated an aura of quiet authority.
‘Hello, Percy,’ the woman said with a pronounced accent. ‘Good to see you.’
‘Olivia,’ Uncle Percy replied warmly. ‘Lovely to see you.’ He kissed her on each cheek. ‘Becky, Joe, this is Olivia Larsen, the new chairwoman of the GITT committee.’
‘Hello,’ Becky and Joe said.
‘Velkomen.’ A warm smile curved Larsen’s mouth. ‘And, as we say in Norway, God påske … Happy Easter.’
‘Happy Easter to you,’ Becky replied.
‘We hope you’ll stay with us a few days,’ Larsen said. ‘We’ve prepared a charming house for you both.’ Her eyes found Joe. ‘Joe, we’ve even decorated your bedroom wall in pictures of, I believe, Manchester City Football Club. I’ve been informed they’re your favourite. Is this the case?’
‘Yeah,’ Joe replied with surprise. ‘That’s ace. Cheers.’
‘Our pleasure.’ Larsen’s smile morphed into a line. ‘Now, before we show you around, I want to update you on where we are in locating your father. We’ve created an incident room in the church of Saint Andrea. So far, we’ve investigated six hundred and seventy timelines and over nine hundred sectors. There’s still some way to go, but we think we’re making progress. As a matter of fact, we have two very strong leads as to his location. And the second we have a confirmed sighting, Tracker division are on the alert to retrieve him immediately. And, believe me, they’re very, very capable.’ A smile returned to her face. ‘So, please, be assured we are doing everything we can and are confident of finding him shortly.’
There was something in Larsen’s face that made Becky trust every word she said. She was about to express her thanks when an ear-splitting pop shattered the silence. She didn’t even blink. Convinced it was just an arriving time machine, it was only when a scream rang out that her spine froze. Glancing over, she saw an old fashioned motorcycle had materialised at the edge of the square. A Chinese man, his face pale and drawn, was hunched over the handlebars, clutching his arm, which was drenched in blood.
Uncle Percy rushed over to him. ‘Liang?’
The Chinese man looked up. ‘Thank God you’re here, Percy,’ he rasped.
Uncle Percy turned to the stunned cro
wd, and shouted, ‘Is Doctor Aziz here?’
‘Not necessary, Percy,’ the Chinese man said, wincing in pain. ‘It’s a flesh wound. Nothing more. I was lucky.’
‘Nevertheless,’ Uncle Percy replied, ‘I think we should let a professional take a look at it.’
A short, rotund woman with a stern but kindly face, her hair scraped back in a severe bun, hurried to Uncle Percy’s side.
Becky recognised her as Emily Appleby, the nurse who had cared for Edgar at Christmas. ‘Let me take a look,’ she insisted.
The Chinese man shook his head. ‘Emily, it can wait,’ he replied, his words urgent and resolute. ‘Percy, I need you to meet someone.’
It was only then Becky noticed the motorbike had a sidecar. Sitting inside was a scrawny young man, wearing a tar-stained jacket and ragged trousers, his face matted with grime and sweat. Looking round, his eyes ballooned with a mixture of fear, bewilderment and something that resembled relief.
‘This is Shamus,’ the Chinese man said, climbing off the bike. ‘Shamus Cusack.’
From Uncle Percy’s surprised expression, Becky knew Shamus had been brought here from the past.
‘Nice to meet you, Shamus. I’m Percy Halifax.’
‘H-hullo,’ Shamus replied in a thick Irish burr.
Uncle Percy smiled back at him. ‘Now, I don’t know what’s happened, but I can assure you that you’re completely safe now and amongst friends.’
Shamus nodded hesitantly. ‘Aye ... Okey.’
‘I’ll tell you what happened, Percy,’ the Chinese man offered. ‘Three Associates happened.’
Uncle Percy’s face grew solemn. ‘When and where?’
‘1872. The Azores. In the town of Santa Barbara, São Jorge Island.’
‘What were they doing there?’
The Chinese man motioned at Shamus. ‘Looking for him.’
‘Is that so?’ Uncle Percy’s eyes returned to Shamus. ‘And, Shamus, do you know why these three men were looking for you?’
Shamus didn’t reply.
‘Show him, Shamus,’ the Chinese man insisted. ‘If anyone can shed light on all of this, Percy can.’
