Time Castaways #2

by Liesl Shurtliff

  Matt didn’t know what he was thinking. He should have known better than to chase down a runaway train that wasn’t even on tracks. All he knew was he wasn’t going to let Jia down again. No way. He ran as fast as he possibly could after the train.

  “Mateo!” he heard his mom call. “Don’t!”

  Matt jumped onto the caboose, grabbing hold of the rails, which were quickly melding into something else altogether. He rolled onto the train next to Jia and looked back to see his mom and Dad and Corey and Ruby all running after the train, all of them screaming his name.

  “Mateo! Get off! That’s the Vermillion!” Corey shouted.

  “Mateo, jump!” cried Ruby.

  The train burst through the entrance of the building. Matt ducked down as glass and brick exploded around him. When he uncovered himself, he noticed someone else was now with them. Brocco had jumped onto the caboose, shooting his gun toward the small crowd running in the wake of the train. Annie shot back. Brocco cursed and ducked behind the rails.

  “Don’t shoot, Annie!” screamed Mrs. Hudson. “You might hit Mateo!”

  “No, I won’t!” Annie shouted. She took aim, but Brocco was faster this time. He aimed his gun between the rails of the train.

  “Look out!” Corey pushed Annie out of the way just as Brocco pulled the trigger.

  “Noooooo!” Matt screamed as the gun exploded.

  Corey stumbled back and clutched at his chest.

  “Corey!” Matt screamed. He felt something snap inside of him. He grabbed on to Brocco’s wrist and bit his hand as hard as he could. Brocco let out a slew of curses, backhand slapped Matt, then grabbed him by the neck, wrapping his fingers around the chain of his compass. A sudden jolt of the train made Brocco yank the chain so hard it broke off Matt’s neck. The compass fell and tumbled across the floor. Matt was thrown against the back of the train and stars erupted in his vision. He shook his head. His compass . . .

  Jia scooped up Matt’s compass, but then Brocco came after her. She backed away and hit the rails. There was nowhere for her to go.

  “Jia, toss it to me!” Matt held up his hands.

  Brocco lunged and Jia threw the compass, but in her panic she overshot and went wide. Matt dove and caught it by the chain before it went overboard.

  Brocco attacked Matt, pulling at his clothes and hair, trying to get the compass from him. Matt could feel the floor of the train melting and stretching beneath his feet.

  He looked back at his family. Most of them had stopped to help Corey, and Matt couldn’t see if he was okay or not. They were getting farther away.

  “Mateo,” his mom shouted, still running after him. “You have to jump! Jump now!”

  She was fading from view, walls closing in from all sides. The scene was flickering in and out, growing smaller and smaller. Brocco was clawing at Matt, trying to snatch his compass. He wouldn’t let him have it.

  “Mom!” he shouted. “Mom! Take the compass!” He knew it was too late to jump.

  “Mateo, no!” she screamed.

  But this was all he could do. If he couldn’t escape, he could at least give his family a way home. “I’m sorry!” he shouted. Matt stretched as far as he could over the edge of the train and let go.

  The compass fell and faded with his mother. Dark walls closed in on him, and his family disappeared.

  18

  Quine’s Letter

  Matt bounced and rolled around as the Vermillion traveled. The floor and walls stretched or shrank, while pieces of furniture appeared where before there had been none. A small table sprang up where he was crouched on the floor, hitting him in the head, and he was knocked backward. He rolled until he came in contact with someone—Jia. She reached for his hand and held it tight.

  Finally the transformation was complete. The Vermillion had turned into a motor home that looked like something out of a disco movie—green-and-yellow-plaid couches and chairs, a yellow Formica table. Judging by the decor Matt was guessing they were somewhere in the 1970s. The Vermillion looked like the much bigger and older sister of Blossom.

  “Are you okay?” Jia said.

  Matt nodded. “You?”

  “I’m fine,” said Jia, and then her voice got all choked up. “Matt, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know the train was the Vermillion, I promise.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, squeezing her hand. “We’re going to be okay.”

  Brocco hobbled over to the plaid couch, grimacing as he cradled the hand that Matt had bitten. The hand that had shot Corey. Corey. Corey had been shot. Brocco shot him.

  Matt wasn’t sure what happened next. All he knew was that something exploded inside of him. Instinct overcame any reason, and the next thing Matt knew, he was on top of Brocco. He punched and slapped and scratched Brocco with a rage he didn’t know he possessed.

  “Hey! Get off—ah!”

  “You shot Corey!” Matt shouted, raking his nails down Brocco’s cheek. “You killed my brother!”

  “I didn’t mean to! He got in the line of fire! I can’t help it if he gets hurt!”

  Matt continued in his madness until someone came behind him and pulled him off. Matt fought against the person, too, but whoever it was held him tight, and then a low and gentle voice spoke in his ear. “Hey now,” said Wiley. “There’s no need for that. All this violence won’t help nothin’.”

  “I’m sorry, Li’l Professor,” said Brocco, “but we had our orders, and you know what happens if we don’t follow.”

  “So you’ll just do whatever he tells you no matter what?” Matt snarled. “You shoot an eleven-year-old kid and that’s okay because someone ordered you?” Matt gave one final struggle and then gave up. He slumped in Wiley’s arms. The room was spinning. Matt suddenly felt sick to his stomach, but he didn’t think it was time sickness or his seizures.

  Corey. His brother.

  His family . . .

  Jia knelt down beside him and gently covered his hand with her own. Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh Mateo, I’m so—” She flinched as a small door opened at the front of the motor home.

  Captain Vincent appeared, Santiago on his shoulder. The white rat looked at Matt with his red eyes and hissed, his usual greeting for the Hudsons. Matt shivered as he remembered that, not only was he responsible for Captain Vincent getting the Obsidian Compass, he was also the reason Santiago was the way he was. Somehow the rat’s interactions with the compass had made him super intelligent.

  At the sight of Captain Vincent, Wiley released Matt and stood up. He backed against the side of the motor home and bowed his head. Brocco snapped to attention, a soldier to his captain, but he eyed Matt nervously, like he was afraid he might attack him again. Matt felt a small sense of satisfaction as he saw the deep scratch marks running down Brocco’s cheek and into his neck. His hand was bleeding, too, where Matt had bitten him. Good. He hoped it got infected and fell off.

  Only Jia remained with Matt on the floor, her hand still covering his, though she kept her eyes to the floor.

  “Mateo!” Captain Vincent spoke in his congenial but oily British drawl. “How glad I am to see you again. It’s been too long, and yet no time at all.”

  Captain Vincent looked just as Matt had remembered, dressed all in black, except for the red Converse. His dark hair was combed, his beard neatly trimmed but a little longer than the last time he had seen him, Matt noticed, in an unsuccessful effort to cover a scar on his cheek. Matt was responsible for that wound, too. He had given it to Captain Vincent when they’d been fighting in the museum. He had slashed him right across the cheek with his mother’s sword. Still, even with the scar, Captain Vincent was a handsome man with a friendly smile and gentlemanly manner. Matt could easily see why his mother would have found him attractive, and why he and Corey and Ruby had believed him to be their friend. And yet there was something sinister about him too. His eyes were flat and empty, two unpolished stones. Matt wondered if they had changed somehow, or if they had always been that way and he’d just never noti
ced. Maybe experience changes the way you see people, forces you to see things you ignored before. It made him wonder if devils lurked beneath other people he liked and trusted.

  “Wiley, search him,” said Captain Vincent.

  Wiley didn’t look Matt in the eyes as he searched all of Matt’s pockets and patted down his arms and legs. He pulled out a box of Cracker Jack and handed it over to Captain Vincent, who dumped the contents on the table, like he was searching for something. Santiago hopped down from Captain Vincent’s shoulder, sniffed at the caramel popcorn and started to nibble on it.

  “If you’re looking for my compass,” said Matt. “It’s not here. I left it with my mom.”

  Captain Vincent looked at Brocco, who cowered under his icy stare.

  “He dropped it just before we traveled,” said Brocco. “We could go back. I could still get it.”

  Matt got a tiny spark of hope. If they went back to try to get his compass, then there was a chance Matt and Jia could escape with his family.

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Captain Vincent. “You got the most important thing.”

  Matt got a little jolt as he realized that he was the “most important thing.” He glared at Captain Vincent. “My parents will find me,” he said defiantly. “You know they can track the Vermillion.” He remembered his father’s map and was filled with hope. His mom and dad would track him down to the ends of the earth and all time, and with his compass they’d be able to travel to Captain Vincent wherever and whenever he went.

  “Wiley, I’m assuming you did not fail to fulfill your part of the mission?” Captain Vincent asked.

  “Yes, Captain,” said Wiley. He looked briefly at Matt, then cast his eyes downward. “You know I never let you down.” He produced a thick, folded-up piece of paper. Matt’s heart dropped to his stomach. It was his father’s map. Wiley must have stolen it from their father in the fight back at the fair.

  That was it. Matt’s last straw of hope snapped and fell away. His family would never be able to find him without the map. He would never see them again, never know if Corey was all right . . .

  Captain Vincent took the map and tucked it under his arm. Santiago stuffed a few more pieces of popcorn in his mouth so his cheeks bulged, then hopped back onto Captain Vincent’s shoulder. “Come with me, Mateo,” he said, turning around. “Let’s have a little chat in my office.”

  Matt didn’t move. He looked back at Jia, but Brocco gave him a rough shove in the back so he stumbled forward. “You heard the captain,” he said. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

  Matt glared at Brocco but turned around and followed Captain Vincent.

  Matt was surprised to see that Albert was driving the RV. He glanced at Matt through the rearview mirror, only for a moment, then returned his focus to the road. He was driving down a paved road lined with pines, snowcapped mountains towering in the distance. Matt searched for any signs that could tell him where they were but saw none. They could be any number of places in the world.

  Sitting in the passenger seat was Pike, fiddling with the ropes and pins fastened to her pillowcase dress. She turned and gazed at Matt with her ghostly eyes, her expression unreadable. Matt still didn’t know what to make of this pale, silent girl.

  Captain Vincent’s cabin looked (oddly) similar to how Matt remembered it looking when the Vermillion was in its original form as a frigate ship—rows of red Converse, swords in every corner, the desk and the bed and all the ruined paintings of the dark-haired woman that Matt now knew was his mother. He looked around for the Mona Lisa, but did not see it here. Either Captain Vincent had returned it, planting it back on the original thief, Peruggia, or Albert was keeping it in the Vermillion’s gallery where they kept all their stolen treasures.

  An elaborately carved box sat on Captain Vincent’s desk, a small gold key beside it. Matt instantly recognized it. It was the key they had retrieved from the back of the Mona Lisa, the one that had sent them on a quest to find whatever it unlocked. They had searched the world over, but in the end the box had been in Matt’s own home, inside his mother’s safe. Pike had stolen it while they’d all been fighting at the museum. Now here it was.

  Captain Vincent sat in an armed chair, leaning back like an arrogant prince on his throne, Santiago perched on his shoulder. He was holding the map, studying it with mild interest, like someone browsing a newspaper. Matt wondered if it would work for him at all, or if the Obsidian Compass would interfere with it, like his compass had.

  Matt stood there for what felt like at least five minutes before Captain Vincent finally looked up at him. “Mateo!” he said, as though he were seeing him for the first time. “Welcome back. It’s good to see you.” He folded the map and set it on his desk.

  “Oh no, what on earth happened to your arm?” Captain Vincent asked, gazing at Matt’s burns.

  “I was struck by lightning,” Matt said baldly. He had no energy for lies.

  Captain Vincent blinked in surprise. “And here? Did you fall?” He grabbed Matt’s chin and turned his face to the side. Matt winced, remembering how Brocco had hit him. In all the pandemonium he hadn’t the presence of mind to feel anything but rage and despair, but now he felt the pain bloom on the left side of his face.

  “No,” Matt said between gritted teeth. “I resisted abduction.” He glared at Captain Vincent with every molecule of hatred he could muster.

  Captain Vincent let go of Matt’s chin. “I know you must be very angry with me.”

  Matt snorted. That was the understatement of the universe.

  “I don’t blame you, truly. I know what you just went through must have been terrible. Believe me when I say if there had been any other way . . .”

  “You mean other than kidnapping me?” Matt snarled. “And shooting my brother?” His voice cracked as a lump formed in his throat. His vision blurred.

  “I am sorry about Corey,” said Captain Vincent, and his voice did sound sympathetic. “That was an unfortunate accident, but now you must understand that we are not playing games. You are in the middle of something extremely dangerous and powerful.”

  Matt clenched his jaw and balled his hands into fists, ignoring the searing pain from his burns. “Yeah, I got that message loud and clear.”

  Captain Vincent stood up and walked to the one small window in his office. “I am not a perfect man, Mateo. I have my faults like all mortals. I admit, I did trick you and your brother and sister into coming on board, and I did use you to serve my own ends, but I did nothing that anyone else in my position wouldn’t have done. Even your own mother, saintly as she makes herself out to be, is no different from me.”

  “She wouldn’t have kidnapped someone else’s children! She wouldn’t have attempted to murder a child!”

  “Oh, but she would have, and she did make such an attempt, if you recall.”

  Matt closed his mouth. His mother had tried to shoot him that time he’d been on board the Vermillion. It was fortunate that his mother’s skill with a gun was not on par with her skills with a sword.

  “That was different,” said Matt. “She didn’t know who I was then. And she’s changed.”

  “Has she?” said Captain Vincent, arching an eyebrow. “I’m sure she’d have you believe that. She may put on a good matronly show for you, but some parts of a person can’t be hidden or erased. I have seen your mother do things that would make your hair stand on end. They leave a mark, and the proof of who your mother really is, what she truly wants, leads right back to you.”

  “What do you mean?” Matt asked.

  Captain Vincent picked up the small gold key sitting on the desk next to the wooden box and held it out to Matt. “Take a look inside.”

  Matt didn’t move. He had wanted to know the contents of that box ever since Captain Vincent had stolen it. His mom had told him that it contained a letter from Marius Quine, the inventor of the Obsidian Compass, but she hadn’t been very forthcoming as to what it actually said. All he knew was that it had something to
do with the Aeternum.

  Now, with the information at his fingertips, Matt wasn’t sure he wanted to know any more. His mother must have had good reason to keep it from him. He almost opened his mouth to refuse, say he didn’t care. But he did care. He had to know. With trembling hands Matt took the key and unlocked the box. The hinges creaked as he slowly opened it.

  Inside, nestled in crimson velvet, was a small glass bottle stoppered with a cork, and inside the bottle was a rolled-up piece of paper. It looked like the kind of thing someone would have tossed into the ocean, hoping someone might find it washed upon the shore. Matt uncorked the bottle. He pulled out the scroll of paper and unraveled it. The paper, though torn and brittle and yellowing at the edges, was not something from centuries past. It looked like modern college-ruled paper ripped out of your everyday spiral-bound notebook, but the contents were not at all ordinary. It overwhelmed Matt at first. It wasn’t so much a letter as a jumble of numbers, letters, symbols, and sketches. There was a sketch of the Obsidian Compass at the center. It looked almost identical to the one Matt had drawn in his own notebook, except there were words written around the compass:

  Forged in the Fountain of Faith.

  He couldn’t fathom what that meant. Written haphazardly in all directions around the compass were dates and locations and coordinates, some that stood out to him—New York, Asilah, Paris, Chicago, 2019, 1762, 1772, 1911, 1893. Others were meaningless. There were symbols and little phrases in various languages that popped out here and there, some he could translate and even recognized, like Les yeux tiennent la clé. “The eyes hold the key.” That had been the phrase that led them to the Mona Lisa, and video et taceo, which was Latin meaning “I see and say nothing,” and had been the clue on the Mona Lisa key that led them to Queen Elizabeth, who had once kept this very box for their mother.

  At the bottom of the page was a poem. It was written in English in an untidy scrawl. Some of the words had been scribbled out and replaced. A few words toward the end of the poem were missing with the ripped page, but as Matt read it, his heart began to thrum in his chest.