The itch is back, and it’s worse than ever. My brain tells me it’s my right wrist. One good scratch should do it. And then I can get some more slee—YAOWWW!
Burning, excruciating pain. Sitting bolt upright now. There’s a jagged line from the base of my palm to midway up my forearm. That’s no scratch. Someone cut me.
I turn my head expecting to see my attacker crouching behind me waiting to finish me off.
No one.
But what I do see scares me even more: miles and miles of sand and reddish wind-blasted rocks; as lonely-looking a place as I’ve ever encountered in my life. This must be what the moon looked like before McDonald’s came.
A wind comes up and blows sand into my eyes, stinging them. Something tickles my leg and, hitching up my pant leg, I see a large spider scuttling up my ankle. I swat if off and stand up.
Endless blue sky and searing heat. Where am I? When am I? I try to remember how I got here but draw a blank. It doesn’t matter, though, because I’m not sticking around. I’m leaving right now.
I gingerly tap my wrist, careful to work around the cut.
Nothing.
I wipe my sweaty fingers on my T-shirt and key in the sequence again. It wouldn’t be the first time I misdialed.
Still nothing. Then a shard of memory. Uncle’s blue eyes and green surgeon’s scrubs.
I’m drenched in sweat. The sun is high in the sky, and I need to find shade. Yes, first shade, then try again. But what if it doesn’t work?
I start walking. At first, I pick my way slowly through and around the sharp rocks. But after a while there’s more sand than rocks and I don’t have to be as careful. Careful. The word bounces around in my brain until another image (another memory?) breaks free. I’m lying on a table. A man in a mask peers down at me. I want to run away, but I can’t move. He’s waving a wicked-looking blade over my wrist. Careful, he’s saying to the others. Just a quick snatch and run. They find this funny and begin to laugh. I shout at them to stop, but the shouts are only in my head.
Walking faster now. Sweat is pouring down my forehead. I must not panic. The memories are coming fast and furious. I know now that the one with the blade is Uncle, and I shudder as he makes a long incision. Another peels back the flaps of skin. And a third grabs it with green rubber gloves, pulling it free. He holds it up like it’s a trophy. But it’s no trophy—it’s my time travel implant—they took it!
Running now. Did someone say don’t panic? Too late. Calm was yesterday’s news. Panic is in fashion, and I’m a supermodel. To prove my point, I’m sprinting through the desert, screaming at the top of my lungs.
Anyone who saw me would probably think that I’m losing it. A vision of Nassim swims into my head. He’s got me in a headlock and growls, “Five letters. Time thief gone crazy.”
“That’s easy,” I say. “The answer is Caleb.”
My legs feel weak. I stop and bend over, gasping for air, keeping my eyes cast downward on the red and gray rocks. I don’t want to look up because I’m afraid that all I’ll see is more of the same barren landscape.
Must concentrate on my breathing. Breath in, breathe out. That’s better. One step at a time. Only I have no idea what the next step is; Uncle never taught us about wilderness survival. But I do know one thing—there’s no way I’m dying here. I’ve got to get out of this place. Zach needs me.
Maybe things aren’t as bad as I’m making them out to be. After all, there’s no way Uncle would just leave one of his best time snatchers to rot in the desert, would he? No, he probably just wants to give me a good scare. All I have to do is sit tight and wait for Nassim to come pick me up.
Then a fresh wave of panic washes over me. How is Nassim ever going to find me? I must have already run half a mile from where I landed. I’ve got to retrace my steps. But how? The ground is hard, and I can’t see my footprints.
I turn around and begin walking, praying that I’m heading in the right direction. It’s impossible to know—all the rocks look the same.
My shirt is soaking. I remember reading somewhere that it’s not good to sweat in a survival situation because sweating uses up precious water that your body needs to preserve. But this isn’t a survival situation, I tell myself. It’s just a little walk in the desert. Any minute now, Nassim’s massive arms will wrap me in a chokehold and he’ll demand my help with twenty-four across or thirteen down or some other clue.
But what if he doesn’t come?
Best not to think about that one. Because thinking leads to worrying, worrying leads to panicking, and I’m already way over my panic quota for the day.
But it’s too late. Panic already has already begun to well up inside me again. No, I won’t let it rule me. I’ve got to think straight. Shelter. Yes, I’ve got to find shelter. And then food and water. No, water first. A person can survive about two weeks without food, but without any water, you can die of thirst in five days.
I stop and look around. Is this the spot where I landed? It could be, but then again, maybe not. I should have marked it somehow. Now what? Wait around for Nassim to come? Too risky. The heat is relentless, and I’ll be fried if I stay here much longer. I can already feel it pouring up through the bottoms of my shoes. But if I carry on, Nassim may never find me. I don’t have a choice, though—it’s either keep moving or die.
Death. There’s that word again. I wonder how Abbie would feel if I died? She’d probably be sad at first, but Frank would be there to console her. He’d wrap one of his big ape arms around her and—
Stop it!
I clear my mind and continue trudging forward. Soon all thoughts go out of my head. I’m on autopilot. One foot in front of the other. If it wasn’t for the position of the sun in the sky, it would be impossible to tell how much time has gone by. A minute feels like an hour, and an hour feels like a day. I’ve lost all sense of time.
Now, that’s precious. A time traveler with no sense of time.
A wind comes up and blows sand into my eyes, my nose, my ears and even my mouth. I tear a strip from my shirt and place it over my nose and mouth. But it doesn’t seem to help. The air is thick with swirling sand, and I can’t see more than a foot in front of me. It’s impossible to carry on. I drop to the ground and curl up in a ball with my hands over my head.
The wind rushes all around me. I must be hallucinating, because I swear I can hear laughter. I cover my ears with my hands to block out the sound. But it’s no use. The desert is laughing at me.
After what feels like forever, the wind dies down and the sky clears. I raise my head slowly and survey my surroundings. All is calm. I stand up and take a tentative step forward. I’m totally disoriented. Is this the way forward, or will it take me right back to where I was?
There’s a shape in the distance. It looks like the rooftop of a long, rectangular building. And even better, right in front of the building is a huge lake, glittering in the late afternoon sun.
Yes! My luck is definitely improving. In a few moments, I’ll have scored two out of my top three picks: shelter and water. I start running toward the lake and building. It’s really more of an awkward shuffle than a run, but I’m way beyond caring what I look like.
I’m already planning the rest of my day. First I’ll have a drink, then check out the building. Maybe it’s a lodge for travelers. I can picture the inside: a great big room with cushy armchairs, mahogany side tables, fake palm trees and soft music playing. And whenever you’re thirsty, you just say the word and someone hands you a tall glass of cool water with a miniature umbrella sticking out of it and a little coaster to set it down on.
I can almost taste the water on my tongue. Silky and sweet. Maybe I’ll go for short swim after my drink just to pique my appetite for dinner …
But when I glance again at the building, it’s gone. And so is the lake.
Vanished. As if they never existed.
This can’t be happening! Maybe I’m looking the wrong way. I spin around, searching frantically in all direction
s.
A mirage. It was all just a mirage. It feels as if someone has just knocked all the wind out of me. I collapse onto the sand. That’s it. I’m done. Whatever energy I had has disappeared just as suddenly as the building and lake. What’s the point of even trying to go on? Then, an image of Zach floats into my head. He’s the point. He needs me.
Slowly, I get up and start walking. I think about the mirage again and then it occurs to me: I’m thinking clearly. Which means no time fog. But how can that be? I must have been here, wherever here is, for hours already. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a time patch anymore. Great, one less way to die. That only leaves about a hundred other ways to perish out here.
The weather is cooling. If I wasn’t worrying about staying alive, I’d say that the temperature is almost pleasant. There’s another shape up ahead, something jutting out of the ground. It’s got a kind of a curve on the top.
Another mirage? It could be, but I don’t think so. First off, it’s not shimmering; it’s looking quite solid. Second, it’s growing larger as I approach, which is exactly what you’d expect a real object to do. I close and then open my eyes. It’s still there.
Closer now. Close enough so that what I see sends a shiver through me. It’s a skeleton of a large animal. At first I think it’s a horse, but I look closer and see the remains of two humps. A dead camel.
My spirits plunge again. The desert may be flat, but emotionally I feel like I’m on a roller coaster. If a creature that was practically built for this place can’t survive, then how am I supposed to?
On a large rock next to the camel, I see a dozen stones piled into a small pyramid. These stones were placed there by someone. By who? And why?
It will be getting dark soon. I’m beyond tired, but I’ve got to find shelter for the night. There’s nothing here so I walk on.
There are two mountains in the distance: gray and red. Got to get to them.
As I walk, the ground underneath me is changing. Sand and stones are giving way to great slabs of rock. In the gathering darkness, it’s difficult to see where I’m stepping. I fall twice and each time pick myself up slowly.
Instinctively, I rub my eyes and switch to night vision. Wait, how can that be? I still have my ocular implant. I guess it was too much trouble for Uncle to remove it.
Oh so tired. My legs feel like jelly. On the next rock slab, they give out entirely, and I crumple to the ground. I crawl on all fours to a place where the giant slab intersects with the next one. There’s a small crevasse there, a kind of crawl space between the two ledges. I wedge my body into the tight space. At least I’m somewhat protected from the wind.
I look up and for the first time notice the stars. They’re dazzlingly beautiful. For a moment I forget about everything else and gaze at the canopy of twinkling lights. I wonder if Abbie is looking at the same stars right now. I wonder if she’s thinking about me.
Have to rest. Just for a couple of hours. Then I’ll be on my way again.
My last thought before I fall asleep is of Zach. Hands are reaching for him. “Help me, Caleb!” he shouts, as he tries to fight them off with his five-year-old fists. “Hang on,” I want to shout back. But no sound comes out of my parched throat.
The Barrens, Day 2
I wake up with a raging thirst. The sun is streaming down on me. As I unfold myself, my brain is flooded with memories of the day before: the endless miles of rocks and sand, the terrible heat, the windstorm and, finally, arriving here.
How long have I slept? Judging from the position of the sun, I’m guessing five or six hours. Longer than I wanted to. I stand up slowly. Every part of my body hurts, especially my right side where I fell yesterday. I have a sudden urge to crawl right back into the crack and stay there … until when? Until Nassim comes to save the day? Well, that’s not going to happen, is it? The only one who has any chance of saving me is me.
I take a deep breath and start walking toward the mountains. They look closer today, but maybe it’s my mind playing tricks again. I’m trudging so slowly that it would be a miracle if I actually reached them before I … Don’t think. Just walk. What I wouldn’t give for one of those dirt bikes. Better yet, a glass of water. With ice. Great. Now I’ve gone and done it. There’s no way I’m going to be able to think about anything else now. Two ice cubes. No, three. I’ve got to stop this. Think of something else. Like where is this place? Or better yet, what year is it?
Where might be easier than when. Uncle might have his faults, but he’s a whiz at geography. I remember him teaching us that the three largest deserts in the world are the Sahara in Africa, the Arabian Desert in Saudi Arabia and the Gobi Desert in Mongolia. This could be any of them. Or, I suppose it could be one of the smaller deserts—there are a whole bunch of those—but I doubt it, since Uncle likes to think big. Personally, I’m leaning toward the Gobi because China is Mongolia’s next-door neighbor.
The harder question is when. I haven’t seen any sign of humans. Wait, there were those rocks in a pile. Someone had definitely arranged them that way. Except that rock piles look pretty much the same no matter what century it is. My gut tells me I’m stuck way back in the past—sometime in the ninth or tenth century. But it’s just a guess. I could easily be in the fourteenth or fifteenth century. Or, for that matter, even in the nineteenth century. A few hundred years means nothing to a place like this.
I’ve been walking for what feels like hours. My feet are aching, but I don’t dare stop. If I do, I’m not sure that I’ll have the energy to get up again.
The sun continues to beat down, baking me and sapping all my strength. I fall into a pattern of thinking about absolutely nothing except for putting one foot in front of the other.
A flash of movement from above catches my attention. Two big birds are circling in the sky high above me. Hawks? No, hawks aren’t that big. I keep walking and the birds follow me. Soon I’m able to make them out more clearly: they’re big ugly things with mottled gray brown wings and black hooked beaks—vultures.
A kick of adrenaline surges through my body, and I pick up my pace. Sorry, guys, you’ve got the wrong address. I pick up a rock and hurl it at them. They disperse for a second and then form their little hunting group again. After all, that’s what they’re here for, isn’t it? To hunt. These birds are smart too—they don’t do any of the killing themselves. No, that’s way too messy. They wait for their prey to die first.
“Go away,” I yell at the top of my lungs, but it comes out as a pitiful rasp. The brutes continue to hover. I can almost hear them laughing at me.
I take a breath to steady myself and carry on. Time passes. The mountains appear closer now. I might even make it to the foothills by nightfall. My vulture friends are nowhere in sight. Good riddance.
There are other changes too. Where before there were only rocks and sand I now see small shrubs. Something dashes from a shrub right in front of me and disappears into another. Did I imagine it? I stand stock-still, hoping to see it again, but there is nothing. I glance ahead. A new color has been added to the horizon, and my eyes marvel at the sight.
Green.
I want to run to the green, but my body is too weak. Is there water there? Maybe it’s another mirage. After all, whoever heard of green in the desert? Well, maybe I’m out of the desert, or on the fringe or in an oasis, or … More movement up ahead. Something leaping from the rocks. It’s an animal. A big, sturdy-looking animal with huge curved horns. I stare openmouthed as it jumps from rock to rock before it disappears.
I look up and glimpse a great bird soaring in the cloudless sky. Too beautiful to be a vulture. It hovers in the air for a moment, then folds its wings inward and drops like a stone.
I’ve reached the green now. It’s grass. Long, tall strands of grass, some as tall as my head: a forest of grass.
The sun is low in the sky, and I have to find shelter for the night. I also need water and food. I tear off a piece of grass, crush it with my teeth and chew slowly, trying my best t
o ignore its bitter taste, imagining it giving strength to my body. But it’s tough going, and I come close to retching.
Gazing up at the mountains, I notice the peaks are capped in white. Snow. What I wouldn’t give for a mouthful of snow right now. But the mountains are farther away than I first thought and there’s no way I’ll reach them tonight. Even if I did, I’d never have the strength to climb up to the top of even the lowest of the peaks.
With my remaining energy I pull out some of the longer strands of grass and lay them down on the ground. My bed for the night. Exhausted, I collapse onto it and immediately fall asleep.
A tickling sensation wakes me. I open my eyes and see something with two pincers and a barbed tail crawling up my arm. A scorpion. I yell, jump to my feet and shake it off. But the bad news is that my vulture friends from yesterday must have heard all the commotion because they’re back, circling in the sky.
I continue my trudge toward the mountains, trying to ignore my terrible thirst.
Ridges up ahead. Great golden-brown cliffs. I doubt I have the strength to climb them.
I slog on. The long grass gives way to slabs of rock, and the slabs to the ridges. The going is slow. So weak now. So hard to keep going.
Movement flickers to my left, and I freeze. A small, furry animal dashes out between two rocks, sees me and hightails it back to the rocks.
If my mouth had any moisture left, I’d be salivating. I shuffle over to where the animal disappeared. Reaching my hand between the rocks, I grab nothing but air. What did I expect? That the little thing would be there waiting for me to snatch it and have it for breakfast?
Sighing, I drag my feet forward a few more steps and stop again. No more energy. All tapped out. The vultures are getting brave. One of them even lights on my shoulder for a moment before hopping off. I wish I had a stick to hit it with or a stone to throw at it or even the strength to swat it away with my hand.
Time Snatchers Page 21
