by R. G. Bullet
“Georgia did it. I called her last night to invite her.”
“Did what, who?” Archy asked.
“She just called me back—she said Dad agreed. We can go! We’re set!”
Archy had never seen Vincent so excited. It was contagious. He hopped out of bed and pulled on his uniform.
“She wants us to chat with her online later today; she just needs to let Dad know the details of the trip.” He shoved a piece of paper at Archy that had the chat room name and the time she’d be there.
Vincent lowered his voice “Archy, what’re we going to tell her about the rug?”
Archy simply smiled at Vincent while knotting his tie.
Vincent slapped his hands together gleefully. “Oh you’re evil—evil,” he said, as if reading Archy’s mind. “She’s never going to believe us if we tell her. What, you think just push her in at the deep end? Yes, that’s perfect. I love it!”
Last night’s mountain of problems began to crumble a bit, but Archy still wasn’t sure how Georgia would react and he still had to find a way to get the rules.
Archy and Vincent hurried down the corridor to the phones.
“Alturus, I—I lost the rules for the TimeQuest,” Archy said as soon as Alturus picked up, while Vincent pushed himself closer to the receiver to listen in. “Is there anything I should know?”
“Not leave anything behind and not bring anything back, easy squeezy.”
“I know that, Alturus, but can I bring anyone else?”
“Yes! You take who you trust or who helps. I love to go but privileges have stopped. You can take people.”
“Good, ‘cause I’ve invited two people who could help me a lot. You’re sure, right?”
Alturus’s voice sounded excited. “Yes, go! Take anyone on the Shroud and TimeQuest. Do it! Have party—make Restitution.”
***
They were the last into the English classroom and were forced to take the seats at the front. When the teacher, Mr. Rose, swooped in, everyone stood up.
“Sit!” said Mr. Rose, striding up the aisle and spotting Vincent at the front. “Ahh—a rare sight indeed. Got here late, did you, Maynard-Bull, or are you just eager to get the best of my lessons?”
“Yes, sir,” said Vincent.
“Good answer, Maynard-Bull. Ambiguous, do you know what that means?”
“Possibly, sir.”
This response caused Mr. Rose to smile. His hair was black, and always neat—too neat, in fact. The boys suspected he used a protractor to get the perfect angle cut around his ears.
He withdrew a stack of papers from his leather case and slapped them down onto the desk, straightening the edges with his thumb and forefinger and scanned the classroom twice.
“Your essay will be a thousand words precisely on…” He wrote the title on the blackboard. The Life of the Bard–William Shakespeare. “For every word under or over you will spend an evening in detention. You may start.”
Archy began to write feverishly.
Archy wasn’t writing an essay on William Shakespeare, though. His thoughts were miles away as he made an inventory at the back of his textbook. He had read an article in an explorer magazine in the library about a man who had single-handedly rowed the Atlantic. Archy had torn it out and put it in between the pages of his textbook, and used them for a guideline to list the necessities. He added it to the things Vincent had already bought:
Blankets, 3
Dustbin liners, 3
Pasties, 7 (wrapped)
2 lbs green apples, 10 oranges and 30 limes (to prevent Scurvy)
60 ft. of nylon rope
8 balloons (yellow)
Swiss Army knife
Bubble gum, 8 pieces
Rolls of reflective duct tape, 3
Hurricane Lamp
Copy of a British Museum map of Rome circa 300 AD
Toothbrush/toothpaste
Compass and flashlight
Signaling mirror
Fishing line and safety pins
Book map of major European highways
Bottled water, 7 gallons
Binoculars
Rolls of toilet paper, 7
Flare gun and cartridges
Money
Life jackets, 3 (and super whistles)
Bug spray
Band-aids and antibacterial cream and gauze, razorblade
Foghorn
GPS
Entry and exit verses
Keys to gateways
Archy tallied up an approximate weight from the article. Load = 98 lbs. He dropped his pen and ran his hands through his hair, sighing loudly.
“Get on with it, Bass,” said Mr. Rose. “Nothing can come of nothing.”
Archy started on his English assignment in earnest and barely finished by the final bell Already feeling the stress, he rushed back to the phones to make a call to SOTS. He needed some sound advice. He read the list over the phone to Sentinel Remnant who listened carefully, between chuckles.
“I see the problem, Archy. If you take all that with you through the gateway you’ll have trouble bringing every single piece of it back, and that, I’m afraid includes the toilet paper.”
A horrifying image flashed into Archy’s mind. Sentinel Remnant continued.
“I’d do without it all. I’ll send you a package right now. It’ll help. And once you’re on the other side you’ll have to just use your wits,” he advised.
During the short break at lunchtime, and with the threat of detention on every piece of homework, the library had become crowded. All the Internet terminals had a waiting list. It was the first time Archy really thought about the money SOTS had given him and now was the time to use it.
He gave a large bill to Vincent, took one for himself and went up to a boy at the end of the line.
“Thanks for leaving,” Archy said, holding up the bill. The boy didn’t think twice, snatched the money, and left.
Archy found the chat room online and, with a few minutes to spare, waited for Georgia to enter.
Instant Messenger Chat Room
Abass58 Enters Room
GeorgiaMB Enters Room
Abass58: Hi Georgia!!!! - How R U??
GeorgiaMB: Hi, Archy! Good J the trip sounds like a lot of fun. I was going to go to riding camp with Stephanie and her sister but Rome, wow! Did V tell you Dad agreed (kind of)?
Abass58: yes J itss going 2 b very different
VinmaynBUll Enters Room
GeorgiaMB: Hi, V. Howsit?
VinmaynBUll: Hi George! kewl
GeorgiaMB: J Dad wants to know how we’re getting there and where we’ll be staying
VinmaynBUll: Archy? LOL
Abass58: got invited to go by some old fiends. It’s somewhere near the Palatine Hill
*Friends
VinmaynBUll: we’ll be flying J!!!!!!! LOL
GeorgiaMB: OK. Do you have the flight number?
VinmaynBUll: ARCHIBALD!! LOL
Abass58: hang on a sec, Vincent. not really. It’s a very small company. I dnt have a name yet, but we’ll be in Romw by Saturday–midday
*Rome. And pack light stuff onlly. U wont ned much. A backpack would do.
VinmaynBUll: ROMW wherz dat? HAhahahah! L J J !!!!!! yeah light stuff only G- not 4 suitcasses ok?
GeorgiaMB: V QUIET! E. Dad’s back in Asia and left it to me to find it out–he’ll want to know the name of the person in Rome and when we’ll be back.
Abass58: bk here Snday. I think th family name is Crassus
GeorgiaMB: It sounds pretty thin–but I’ll tell Dad when you tell me–what time will you be here?
Abass58: friday. V told me there’s herb garden nr the kitchen of yr school–wait in there–I will fond you.
*find
GeorgiaMB: The herb garden!?
Abass58: yes–after school–C u there
GeorgiaMB: OK. You better not be winding me up, V? If this is one of your jokes...?
VinmaynBUll: relax–bring some swimming googgles
>
GeorgiaMB: What?–OK U2 g2g–CU tomorrw Byeee!!!
Abass58: Ltr georgia
GeorgiaMB Exits Room
Abass58: bowlhead! u didnt tell her about the rug did you?
VinmaynBUll: turkeee NECK! No
Abass58: this is serious V
VinmaynBUll: L ß yr serious face!!!
Abass58: YR BRAIN -à . ß
Abass58: Go to the dining room... theres an XTRA LARGE KNUCKLE SANDWICH 4u L
VinmaynBUll: yeah! Bring yr army!!!!
Abass58 Exits Room
VinmaynBUll: Hello HELOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
WE’RE SORRY! THAT FEATURE IS NOT AVAILABLE.
VinmaynBUll: ELMS IS A ( ! )
THAT WORD IS PROHIBITED IN THIS FORUM! PLEASE READ THE RULES REGARDING ACCEPTABLE LANGUAGE.
VinmaynBUll: Elms smells like
( ! )
THAT WORD IS PROHIBITED IN THIS FORUM! PLEASE READ THE RULES REGARDING ACCEPTABLE LANGUAGE.
VinmaynBUll HAS BEEN KICKED FROM THIS FORUM.
***
After the last bell most of the boys got ready to go home for the weekend. The driveway was filled with luxury cars of every description, ready to pick them up.
Archy checked his watch. It was time to leave. He met Vincent and they walked together down to the music room. Archy laid out all of the items on the floor for another final check. Vincent stood ready with the list in one hand and a pen in the other. He wore jeans and his leather jacket. His swimming goggles were perched on his forehead, and a sweater was wrapped around his waist. He didn’t have any real luggage, not even a toothbrush.
“All right,” said Archy, crouching down to inspect everything on the music room floor. He lifted the items one at a time. “Gladius—wrapped,” he said.
“Check!” Vincent responded.
“Parachute cord.”
“Check.”
Together they went through the complete list—twice. The GPS, a flashlight, forty feet of parachute cord, two huge chocolate bars, three limes (in case of Scurvy), a spare sweater, one windbreaker, three heavy-duty dustbin liners (green), one pair of leather sandals and a toga (the package Sentinel Remnant sent) and one fat envelope with the cash. Archy placed the entry and exit verses in his backpack and hung the keys around his neck.
“It’s all there,” said Vincent, reaching for a chocolate bar, “but I don’t think we need this.”
“Drop it!” said Archy in the same tone he used for Winnie’s dogs. “I don’t want to worry about where’s-the-chocolate-I-thought-I-had kind of thing—understand?”
“Listen,” said Vincent, “it’s best to eat it all now, so we don’t have to worry about bringing it back.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” said Archy. He snatched a bar while Vincent crossed them off the list. Archy repacked everything and swung his backpack onto his shoulders. He clicked the GPS, which picked up the satellite signals instantly, and handed it to Vincent. “Do your magic,” he said.
Vincent tapped a few buttons just before Archy folded the last corner and they both vanished. The small LED display was the only item revealing anything untoward. “Okay, we need to head to fifty one point five oh two nine eight three—by—zero point eight two nine five six nine.”
“C’mon, Vincent.”
“Just winding you up. Get outside and then take a left.”
Archy opened the window and looked up at the cloudy gray sky. At least it wasn’t raining... for once.
“Ready?” said Archy, as they lifted straight up.
“Set,” said Vincent, from his spot in the middle of the rug.
“Go,” they shouted in unison. And they shot forward.
Chapter 26
The Incident in the Herb Garden
Georgia sat waiting on a wooden bench in the herb garden of St. Catherine’s Preparatory School for Girls. She shuffled her feet in the gravel path and constantly checked her watch. The plans Archy and Vincent mentioned were scant and she had started to think it was an elaborate hoax, so when Archy appeared from around the high flint wall, she sprung up and smiled at him warmly.
Archy beamed back, happy to see her. She wore a pink T-shirt with a white skull and crossbones in the middle. They shook hands formally, and Archy felt his face flush. He noticed that behind her, nudged between shrubs of basil and rosemary, stood a large backpack. He flashed a look of concern.
“You said just a backpack...” she said, noticing. “It’s just a few things.”
Archy scratched his chin. “Is there any way we can leave some of it behind?”
Georgia cocked her head sweetly and broadened her smile.
All of his control seemed to seep away and he heaved the backpack onto his shoulder. It weighed a ton, but he didn’t say a word. He was more concerned about her reaction to the rug. He’d thought about this moment a hundred times. How would she handle it? he wondered.
“Georgia, this flight we’re taking—” he began as he led her toward Vincent and the rug hovering under the tree, “is... a bit different—”
***
The new English teacher at St. Catherine’s School, Miss Hope, was watching Georgia Maynard-Bull from her bedroom window in the attic. The weekend afforded her time off and she had taken more than her quota of allergy medicine and was feeling quite relaxed. She only gave a passing thought as to why Georgia was waiting in the herb garden with a backpack. It seemed strange, but if truth be known she wasn’t that concerned. What caught her attention was the sudden arrival of a boy. In her hazy state she thought it odd he’d simply materialized from nowhere and stood chatting with Georgia. She hadn’t seen a boy in St. Catherine’s herb garden since she had been in the sixth form (the memory brought a wistful smile to her lips). She blinked heavily and rubbed her eyes. Must be these pills, she thought.
She saw Georgia follow the boy under the oak tree. They stood for a while and Miss Hope could see Georgia laughing, but the boy’s face had now become serious. There was something very peculiar going on below. With rising interest, she squashed her nose right up against the window.
What happened next actually made Miss Hope gasp out loud. The boy picked up the backpack, lifted it, and motioned for Georgia to sit… and—BING—everyone vanished into thin air. Just before she fell back onto her bed in a dead faint, Ms. Hope heard several piercing screams.
In the years following the children’s disappearance at the herb garden, Miss Hope went on to become a highly-respected headmistress at St. Catherine’s Preparatory School for Girls. She attributed her success to three things: First and foremost, she always made sure her students gained a broad education. Second, she cured all of her physical ailments with herbal remedies, and third, she never ever, mentioned what she thought she saw in the herb garden that day.
***
“EEEeeeeeeee!” Georgia squeaked.
“Hang on and don’t move, all right, Georgia? I’m going to go around the garden and then land over by the tennis courts. Then I’ll explain. Hang on!”
“Hi, George!” Vincent said loudly.
“EEEeeeeee!”
They flew above the greenhouses of the herb garden and touched down behind the tennis pavilion. Archy twisted around to face Georgia. She was clutching her backpack tightly and wore an expression of dumfounded shock, one Archy was getting used to seeing.
“We didn’t know how else to tell you, Georgia,” said Archy, “so we thought it best just to show you.”
As they rose up again, Archy kept the rug very stable. Vincent didn’t help much when he announced, “We’ve only crashed twice, but it was okay.”
After a mile or so Archy piloted them high above the trees, and St. Catherine faded rapidly behind them.
“Do you know where you’re going, Archy?” Georgia shouted above the rushing wind.
“We’re following the roads until we come to Littleton,” said Vincent.
Archy felt Georgia brace herself against the rush of air, gripping his arm tightly. “I see it! Where do we go after
that?”
“South,” he shouted over his shoulder, “till we reach the Channel.” Then Archy accelerated until the wind howled around their ears.
Chapter 27
The Mole
Bundo and the thin accomplice sat in the park outside the Greenwich observatory, waiting for the mole to show up with the keys.
“I think you’ve made a bald spot in my mustache,” said the thin accomplice, rubbing his face. The shabby, see-through raincoat he wore was no better than a dustbin liner. His clothes were soaked, which upset him no end as the purple dye from his new underwear had bled all the way through to his mustard-colored trousers, staining them with embarrassing brown patches.
Bundo looked over at the wretch sitting next to him and wondered how someone so ugly could still manage to be so vain, and calculated how much gas it would take to dispose of him entirely.
Although he would never admit it, Bundo didn’t feel much better. The bench was hard and he sat hunched beneath an oversized golf umbrella, his trouser legs steaming from the insistent downpour. He turned back to scan the park. The mole was late.
“A hole in your mustache? You’re lucky you’re not dead,” Bundo grumbled, checking his watch. 6:17 p.m. “How long did it take you to grow it—a month?”
Bundo didn’t underestimate his accomplice. He was emaciated yes, but evil nonetheless, and possibly knew of a dozen ways to kill a grown man with a yard of dental floss.
“You made a mistake back there, Bundo. You don’t want to start fighting with me. I’d think you’d want me on your side.”
Bundo leaned over and sniffed the air. “Is that your breath? It stinks worse than death.”
The thin accomplice was cupping his hand over his mouth when a bicyclist pulled up to the bench. A young man wearing a hooded parka peered down at them with a quizzical frown. He had a pockmarked face and his teeth protruded like a rat. He pulled out a brown envelope from an inside pocket and threw it onto Bundo’s lap. It landed with the distinctive jingle of keys.
