Time Riders tr-1

by Alex Scarrow

  She struggled to pull herself free. ‘We can’t leave her!’ she screamed,tears rolling down her scratched and dirt-smudged cheeks.

  A part of him wanted to follow her through, to give chase down the road. If not to rescueSal, then at least to get close enough to take aim and attempt to give the poor child a quickand painless death.

  But that would be foolish.

  It was obvious to him now. Obvious that those creatures had been biding their time, waitinguntil the three of them were boxed in on the bridge, had dropped their guard and were certainthey were home and dry. They were clever enough to set a trap. What’s more, they musthave known all along where they’d been holed up.

  ‘Madelaine!’ he snapped as she squirmed in his grasp. ‘They set this up!This was a trap!’

  She continued to struggle. In the distance, echoing down the bridge, they heard Sal’sfaint cry, pleading for help once more.

  She shuddered, her shoulders shaking convulsively as she sobbed. ‘I’m coming,Sal… I’m coming!’

  Foster struggled to pull her back. ‘We have to go, Maddy… There’s nothingwe can do for her.’

  ‘I’m not leaving her behind!’

  Foster grabbed Maddy’s jaw and turned her face to look at him.

  ‘Come on!’ he snapped. ‘If they get a hold of us too… then it’sall over! Do you understand? It’s all over… foreveryone!’

  CHAPTER 81

  1957, New York

  Bob parked the Kubelwagen down the backstreet as Liam looked out of thewindscreen at the row of brick arches running underneath the Williamsburg Bridge.

  ‘We’re home,’ said Liam.

  ‘Incorrect,’ replied Bob. ‘We are back where.We are not yet back when.’

  Liam shrugged. It felt like they were almost home, sittingoutside on the kerb looking at the familiar old brickwork. In place of the sliding corrugateddoor were two large wooden doors. Across them both was painted the sign DANG LI POH LAUNDRY. Plumes of steam spouted from a pipe beside thewooden doors out into the cool late-afternoon air.

  Bob consulted his internal clock. ‘We have seventeen minutes until the time wespecified for them to open the window.’

  Liam leaned forward to look up at the sky. There were more hoverjets circling the skylineabove Manhattan, patrolling in pairs. He wondered if anyone was looking for them yet.

  ‘You’re right, no time to waste.’

  He opened the door and climbed out, adjusting the black uniform and putting the cap on hishead, tugging the peak low to shadow as much of his boyish face as possible.

  Bob joined him on the cobbled pavement strewn with rubbish from a kicked-over garbagepail.

  Liam rapped his knuckles on the wooden door. He waited anxiously for aminute before rapping again on the wood. A moment later a small service hatch in the left-handdoor slid open and a ruddy-faced oriental man in a white apron peered out.

  ‘Yeah?’ he snapped irritably before registering the death’s-head insigniaand pitch-black uniforms.

  Liam cleared his throat. ‘You will let us in immediately,’ he said, affecting aclipped officious tone.

  ‘Whuh?… Er… What — what wrong?’

  ‘We have reason to believe these premises are harbouring a criminal.’

  The man’s eyes widened. ‘We not have bad man here!’

  ‘You will let us enter NOW or I shall have you all arrested.’

  The man’s eyes widened still further. ‘I let you in. One moment.’

  He slid the hatch closed and then a few seconds later they heard bolts slide and the woodendoor creaked open. The man waved them in.

  ‘You come in… see. No criminal here.’

  Liam and Bob stepped inside and almost immediately felt a fug of warm moist air against theirfaces. The arch was dimly lit by several bulbs dangling from the arched ceiling.

  ‘You see… no bad man here!’ snapped the Chinese man.

  Liam looked around the gloomy interior. There were about a dozen men and women standing overtubs of steaming water, stirring clothes with ladles, scrubbing them with bars of soap. Strungacross the archway were laundry lines from which clothing and bed linen hung to dry.

  ‘We laundry. Make super-clean for customer,’ the man explained.

  ‘You will tell your people to leave the building immediately,’ ordered Liam.

  The Chinese man’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why you want us leave?’

  Hmm. He hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. Liamhesitated a moment too long as he struggled to conjure up an answer.

  The Chinese man squinted suspiciously. ‘You just boy… not real soldier pig. You steal uniform an’ try rob my laundry!’

  Liam stared at him helplessly. ‘Er…’ was all he could manage.

  The man continued to glare at him. ‘This is trick. Youleave now!’

  Bob stepped in to help Liam out. He reached for the gun in his holster, wrenched it out andaimed it at the man’s forehead in one fast and fluid motion.

  ‘This is not a trick.’

  The man’s suspicious expression was instantly wiped away and replaced with wide-eyedfear as he stared down the barrel of the pistol.

  ‘You will instruct the personnel here to leave these premises immediately or you willbe terminated!’ Bob’s deep voice thundered.

  The man swallowed nervously, then, eyes still anxiously locked on the hand gun, he shoutedout in Cantonese over his shoulder at the others. Through the gaps in the hanging laundry Liamcould see fear on their faces as they spotted the gun levelled squarely at their boss. Quicklythey dropped their bars of soap and their stirring ladles, and filed out, ducking under thelaundry lines and heading for the open door.

  They disappeared outside and a moment later the wooden door swung shut, leaving Liam and Bobin the faint, familiar gloom of their arch.

  Bob once more consulted his internal clock. ‘Seven minutes and twenty-nine secondsuntil our specified window.’

  ‘And how long have we got until your brain explodes?’

  Eyes fluttered. ‘Sixty-four minutes and three seconds.’

  Liam pushed his way past a damp bed sheet and found a stool on which to sit down. ‘Soif this fails, if there’s no window, you and I will have less than an hour lefttogether?’

  ‘Affirmative.’

  ‘I guess that’s enough time to say our goodbyes.’

  Bob cocked his head, curious. ‘You will be sad?’

  ‘Sad? That you’re going to be left a vegetable? Of course I flippin’ will!I mean… after all this time you’ve just about worked out how to appear less like acomplete idiot, and more like a human. It’d be a waste, to be sure.’ He sighed andshook his head. ‘Hang on. What am I saying? I guess maybe it’s the humans that arethe idiots.’

  Bob shrugged, not entirely understanding what Liam was muttering on about.

  Liam laughed at that. Such a human gesture.

  ‘Six minutes.’

  CHAPTER 82

  2001, New York

  The generator was still chugging when they got back. Foster slapped the vibratingand warm cylinder head, relieved. He’d been half expecting to find it still and silenton their return, having either become clogged up and choked to death on dodgy diesel, or thefuel tank having run dry.

  He emerged from the back room to check the time machine’s charge display. They werenearly there. Two LEDs were still red. He guessed the machine had to be powered-up enough totry opening a window in about twenty minutes.

  He booted up the computer system, waiting for it to finish its start-up routine properlybefore opening the geo-positioning interface software and tapping in the co-ordinates thatwere scribbled in faded ink on the yellowed page before him. He whispered a prayer that Liamhad written down the numbers correctly.

  The screen zeroed in on a portion of a map of New York.

  ‘Oh… good lad!’ he gasped over the noisy chug coming through the open doorof the back room. ‘There’s a smart lad!’

  Maddy looked up, slumped in one of th
e armchairs around the communal table. Her voice soundedtired and small and defeated. ‘What… what is it, Foster?’

  ‘Right here!’ said Foster. ‘They’re right here! Right inside thearchway! The co-ordinates… they’re saving us as much power asthey can. Opening the window right here — that might just conserve enough power for usto bring them both back!’

  She smiled weakly.

  He got up out of his seat to join Maddy at the table. On his way over he pulled the door tothe back room shut, reducing the deafening rattling chug of the generator, clearly strugglingon the last dregs of fuel, to a muted background rumble.

  He sat down heavily in an armchair beside her. ‘It’s almost over,Madelaine.’

  ‘It’s over for Sal,’ she replied.

  ‘Not necessarily.’

  She looked up at him. ‘How do you mean?’

  He rubbed his face tiredly. ‘Time travel is very muddy stuff… It’s anunpredictable science. If Liam and Bob can go back and fix things second time round, then,it’s possible… just possible, that the corrective waveof time realigning, shifting everything back to normality, might also return Sal tous.’

  She sat up. ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘It’s possible… just that.’

  She grasped his hand. ‘Poor Sal.’ Tears cleaned fresh tracks down hergrime-covered cheeks. ‘I can’t bear to think what… what — ’

  ‘Then don’t think about it. If she comes back tous… IF… she comes back to us, those things that happened to her, well… theywon’t have happened. She’ll have absolutely no memory of what’s been goingon here these last few days, she’ll — ’

  ‘Foster.’

  He stopped talking. Maddy’s head was cocked, her eyes narrowed, squinting as shelistened to something. ‘Did you hear that?’

  ‘Hear what?’

  ‘I thought I heard…’

  Then he heard it himself — something moving in the backstreetoutside. The skittering of a loose chunk of rubble kicked carelessly across the ash anddust-covered cobblestones. The light brush of something againstthe corrugated-iron shutter door. Then tapping.

  Their eyes met and both knew what it meant.

  ‘They’ve found us, haven’t they?’ whispered Maddy.

  ‘I think so.’

  The tapping on the shutter door suddenly became a frustrated bang. Maddy jerked in her seatand whimpered.

  ‘They’re trying to find a way in,’ said Foster.

  ‘Can’t we open the displacement window right now?’

  He looked anxiously across the floor at the row of LEDs on the time machine, eleven of themblinking together… awaiting a twelfth to turn green.

  ‘Not yet… we open it too soon and we could blow this one chance.’

  Scratching. He could hear a scratching… scraping noise.

  Maddy held her breath, listening to the soft noise slowly growing louder, more intense.‘What’re they doing?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  But he did.

  They’re probing the walls for a weak area. Perhaps they’vealready found some loose bricks and they’re now scraping out the crumbling mortarbetween them.

  He looked again at the LEDs, willing that last one to flicker over to green.

  They both heard the clatter of a brick falling to the ground outside. ‘Oh Godno!’ Maddy hissed. ‘They’re coming through the walls!’

  Foster reached for the shotgun on the table. Maddy snapped on a torch and studied the wallsfor a sign of their handiwork. Her breath rattled and fluttered noisily in the quietstillness.

  ‘I… I don’t want to go like… like S-Sal.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, panning a second torch along the base of the archwalls, ‘I won’t let them take us. I promise you that.’

  His beam passed over a small mound of dry grey powder on the floor.

  ‘There!’

  She moved her beam over to the pale dust, then worked it up the wall until she glimpsed ahairline crack of daylight and a solitary brick shuffling in the wall, dislodging morecrumbling mortar on to the ground.

  ‘Oh my God… you see that?’

  ‘Yes,’ Foster replied. Getting to his feet and stepping across the floor towardsthe front wall, he aimed his gun at the loose brick. The brick fidgeted again and thenshuffled inward, falling on to the floor with a heavy thud. Foster glimpsed one of theboiled-fish eyes through the hole left behind… and fired.

  They heard a high-pitched scream and anguished cries of rage outside. The scratchingintensified, now coming from several other places along the wall.

  ‘Oh God, Foster!.. It’s everywhere! It’s — ’

  There was a bang and the sound of something heavy clattering on to the floor in the backroom.

  ‘Jesus!’ snapped Foster. ‘They’re in!’ He ran across the floorand quickly rammed home a locking bolt on the sliding door.

  ‘What?’

  ‘They were distracting us at the front, meanwhile working on the brick walls at theback.’ His eyes locked on hers. ‘They’re in the back room!’

  There was a heavy thud against the sliding door, leaving a bulge in the thin metal sheeting.The hinges anchored to the old brick wall rattled loosely and rust-coloured brick dustcascaded down.

  Maddy screamed.

  Another heavy thud left another jagged dent.

  ‘This door isn’t going to take too much more of that,’ shouted Foster.

  ‘Oh God, no! Foster! I don’t want to die like this!’

  He looked again at the charge display, cursing that last red LED.

  Please change colour!

  ‘W-what… what if we open the window now? Foster? Can we?’

  He grimaced as the door rattled again from another blow and more brick dust settled on hishead and shoulders. Through the thin metal door he could hear them, whimpering, crying andsnarling… frustrated by this last obstacle.

  ‘Foster? Now! Open the window now!’

  ‘OK… it’s got to be nearly there. Near enough.’

  He handed her the gun and shifted to one side so that she could replace his weight againstthe door.

  ‘Hold this as long as you can. If they break through, you’ve got nine shots left.Do you understand?’

  She nodded. ‘I understand… seven for t-them… a-and — ’

  ‘That’s right.’ He smiled grimly. ‘Two for us.’

  Another heavy thud. The top hinge rattled loose from the brick wall, showering Maddy withgrit and dust.

  Foster grasped her hand tightly and squeezed, then he scrambled across the floor towards thecomputer terminals, quickly opening up the interface dialogue box with the time machine andtapping in the co-ordinates on the keyboard.

  The door rattled from another heavy blow and the second hinge, halfway down the door, lurchedoff the wall, showering her again.

  ‘Foster! Hurry! HURRY!’

  He scanned the numbers he’d typed, checking them against Liam’suntidily scrawled figures.

  God help us if I’ve got this wrong.

  He hit ENTER on the keyboard.

  CHAPTER 83

  1957, New York

  Liam fiddled with the stiff starchy collar around his neck, irritated by thestitching of the oak leaves and the death’s-head insignia. He undid the top button.

  ‘How much longer now?’

  Bob was standing in the middle of the floor, surrounded by laundry lines draped with linensheets. His eyes blinked.

  ‘Scheduled window imminent. Precisely fifty-seven seconds from now.’

  Liam realized his stomach was churning with nervous anticipation. In less than a minute theywere going to know whether Maddy had remembered the museum’s guest book. In less than aminute Liam would know whether he was going to be stuck in the past forever.

  ‘You see anything?’

  ‘Negative. No sign of density probing yet.’ And, of course, if the window didn’t arrive, then Bob was due to self-terminate shortly,leaving Liam all alone. He wasn’t sure he was going t
o be able to cope with that,wondering when the men in dark uniforms were going to round him up and put him back in one ofthose camps. Or, worse, execute him by firing squad for killing their soldiers, stealing thecar, stealing the uniforms.

  ‘Ten seconds,’ said Bob.

  Come on, Maddy… please remember the museum guest book.

  He stood up, ducking under a laundry line to join Bob in the middle of thefloor.

  ‘So this is it, Bob… cross your fingers.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s meant to be lucky.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It just is… It’s… oh, forget it.’

  ‘Window due in six seconds… five… four…’

  Liam clenched his chattering teeth, his fingers crossed tightly round each other for goodluck, knuckles bulging beneath his pale skin. ‘Come on… come on,’ hewhispered.

  ‘… three… two…’

  Here we go.

  ‘… one…’

  Nothing.

  Liam looked around them, snatching the linen sheets to one side in case they hid theshimmering outline of the displacement window. ‘Where is it?’

  Bob looked at him. ‘There is no window.’

  ‘What? You sure?’

  ‘I would detect tachyon particles in the vicinity if there was one.’

  The nervous energy that had Liam trembling moments ago drained out of him like water from anemptying bath tub. His legs felt wobbly and he found a wooden stool to slump down on to.

  So that’s it, then.

  He looked up at the support unit, standing motionless, looking back down at him with a calmexpressionless face.

  ‘So how much time do you have left before you have to terminate?’

  Bob’s brow flickered for a moment. Liam thought he almost detectedsadness in that expression… almost. ‘I have fifty-six minutes left on my missionclock.’

  Fifty-six minutes left to live. Liam wondered what a person could do with fifty-six minutes.Not a lot. Time for a cup of tea and some cakes. A bath and a shave maybe.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Bob,’ he said quietly. ‘I think I was getting toquite like you, you know.’

  Bob’s stern face seemed to shift, soften. Liam was certain that behind the flesh andbone, at some level, the unit was experiencing something beyond simple binary numbers andlogical functions.