Polarian-Denebian War 6: Prisoners of the Past

by Jimmy Guieu

  “It’s horrifying,” Kato murmured in a strangled voice.

  Dormoy turned on his scintillation counter and it clicked furiously, crazily. “This zone is terribly hot,” he noted. “Without our anti-radiation suits we’d be exposed enough to have to write our wills pronto.”

  “It’s horrifying, horrifying,” the Japanese teratologist kept repeating, his eyes filling with tears. “August 9, 1945, Nagasaki was destroyed by an atomic bomb and here we are today, 16 years later, for a second time Nagasaki’s been razed by a similar bomb! May my ancestors forgive me for the evil thoughts in my head that want to kill whoever’s guilty of this cowardly, unjustifiable act of destruction!”

  The group of scientists, the crew and the stewardess started walking in their opaque, glistening suits looking like clumsy monsters out of a horror film. They reached the road full of fugitives who were running around, crying, shouting and moaning. Kato stopped a trembling man who looked at the scientist and his companions with wild eyes.

  “What happened?” he asked, so upset that he did not see how ridiculous his question was.

  “It’s… I was in the basement when it happened. I didn’t see anything… I was thrown against the wall and a terrifying light blinded me. The neighbors say the sun fell onto the Earth… It took me seven hours to get out and…”

  “Seven hours? You… mean the explosion happened seven hours ago?”

  “Six maybe, or eight, I don’t know…”

  Leaving the poor man to flee with the terrorized crowd, Kato translated the conversation to his friends.

  “How could the guy say that the bomb exploded six to eight hours ago when in fact it struck here barely an hour ago?” Kariven objected, more and more curious.

  “I don’t know, my friend,” the Japanese shook his head slowly. “Let me take you to the ruins that used to be Nagasaki.”

  The last refugees, hidden away for hours in their basements, were deciding to leave the site of the disaster. Making their way through the fugitives, the scientists and crew entered the devastated city. Fires raged everywhere but the atomic mushroom was diluted in the atmosphere. Kato, leading his colleagues, kept stepping over corpses that cluttered the ground the closer they got to the center of the city. They finally reached the Urakami valley in the middle of which was a huge crater full of slag and vitrified rocks mixed with piles of melted metal.

  “Just like the bomb that exploded 16 years ago, in the same place in Urakami,” the Japanese observed.

  “It’s an extraordinary coincidence,” Kariven thought out loud.

  They went around the rocky spur of Nakashima—over 1,000 feet high—and entered a part of the city that was a little less devastated. The rocky mass had shielded it from total destruction. In this place although the buildings were in a pitiful state, they had stood up to the extraordinary blast. The shockwave had smashed against the rocky barrier.

  Groans coming from a half-buried building attracted Kaito’s attention. Helped by Kariven, he tore off the hinges of the broken door and entered the hallway full of debris. An eight- or ten-year old child was whimpering, stuck under a beam. To his right lay a young woman in a blood-red kimono, her chest crushed by the heavy beam. A stream of blood out of the corner of her mouth was hardening. Streiler, Zavkom and Tagliero used their combined strength to lift the beam while Kariven and Kato carefully pulled the boy away.

  Walking backward, the Japanese scientist tripped over a smashed typewriter and caught himself at the last moment by the frame of the door on the right. He regained his balance and got ready to continue dragging out the wounded boy but stopped short, staring at the ground. In the wreckage, covered with plaster, a rectangular object stuck out. It was chrome metal with four openings through which he could see Japanese characters. He picked up the small object with a hesitant hand, stared at it for a long time and then gave a puzzled look to his friends.

  “What is it, Kato? What’ve you found?”

  “A… desk calendar.”

  “Is that so surprising?”

  “In itself no, Kariven. It’s the date that’s extraordinary: August 9, 1945.”

  “You… 1945! That’s impossible, come on. The explosion must have damaged it and substituted 45 for 61. The month and day are not surprising since it’s August 9… 1961.”

  When they left the ruined house a team of rescue workers were in the street. The men were wearing gas masks, a completely whimsical protection against radiation. Kato called them over and gave them the boy with a broken arm.

  “What time did the explosion happen?” he asked in Japanese to the head nurse.

  “You weren’t here?” he sounded surprised.

  “Yes, but… I was dizzy… the fire,” Kato lied.

  “I understand. The horrifying bomb exploded this morning around 11 o’clock, eight hours ago now. The number of casualties is incredibly high, tens of thousands for sure.”

  “Why didn’t they send for help from Tokyo immediately?”

  “The general staff must be overwhelmed since it’s only been four days since the other bomb almost totally destroyed Hiroshima.”

  “Hiroshima?” Kato raised an eyebrow. “Are you mad? We were all in Hiroshima last week at the world conference of atomic scientists…”

  The nurse furrowed his brow, “So you survived the terrible disaster?” Then he looked more carefully at the strangers in protective suits and jumped, “Who are these Whites dressed like you in these weird clothes?”

  “They’re French, Italian, Brazilian, English and American scientists who…”

  “English! American!” the nurse exclaimed, astonished. “Prisoners then, right?”

  “Prisoners?” Saigo Kato was astonished himself. “Why prisoners? They’re my friends…”

  “Your… friends?” he stepped backward, indignant, and pulled an automatic pistol from his pocket.

  A shot was fired and his weapon flew out of his hand. The nurse grimaced in pain and grabbed his bleeding right wrist. The Englishman, John Shelley, quickly stepped up, a Smith & Wesson aimed at the rescue worker. He thanked heaven for thinking of putting a gun in the outside pocket of his anti-radiation suit. Without understanding Japanese, the change in the man’s attitude told him that something unusual was about to happen.

  The rescue workers put their hands in the air and keep fearful eyes on the White man whose index finger was glued to the trigger of his revolver.

  “You’re a traitor making pacts with the American devils!” the head nurse barked and he spit at Kaito’s feet.

  “Will you tell me the reason for your offensive attitude?” he asked calmly but feeling an indefinable emotion rise up inside.

  “You dare to pretend to ignore the fact that we’re at war?”

  Kato’s calm left him and his voice turned hoarse when he asked, “Today… uh… What day is it?”

  The head nurse looked stunned, forgot his wound and answered, “But… August 9, 1945 of course…”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Yuln, Kariven’s young blonde wife, rushed into the apartment of Jenny Angelvin, the wife of the ethnographer, who was talking with Doniatchka Dormoy. Pale and ruffled she held out the latest edition of France Soir to her friends.

  “It’s horrible,” she whimpered, pointing at the headlines.

  “An atomic bomb destroyed Nagasaki!” Jenny read out loud. “My God, are Bob, Jean and Michel there?”

  Yuln shook her head in despair. Tears were forming in her big blue eyes. “We have no news from their expedition. It’s weird but I can’t probe Jean’s mind anymore, or anyone with him. For the first time in my life my telepathic abilities have failed me. Such a psychic breakdown is unheard of among my fellow Polarians. Intuitively I know that they’re not dead… and yet I can’t hook up with their thoughts.”

  Jenny was upset but kept her voice clear of emotion as she read, “This morning at 11am local time a terrifying explosion devastated the port of Nagasaki, exactly 16 years to the day after the first destruction
of the great Japanese city. A US Navy fighter jet on a training flight over Kyu-Shu alerted the Tokyo base immediately after seeing the blinding flash preceding the radioactive mushroom cloud that accompanies every atomic explosion. Because in all likelihood it was a nuclear weapon that pulverized Nagasaki. According to the first reports, it appears that the city suffered considerable damage. The victims number in the tens of thousands.

  “We are, however, without news from the ionocruiser transporting a group of international scientists to Nagasaki. They were supposed to be completing a study of the long-term effects on people and things from the first nuclear explosion dating back 16 years now. An ionocruiser took off a few hours ago from Rangoon heading for Japan to fly over the devastated region before reaching Tokyo. The RTF will broadcast tonight, at 8:22 pm, a special news bulletin about the disaster. Many planes are already en route for Kyu-Shu to bring aid to the victims of radiation. They will land around 10 pm local time.”

  Jenny, Doniatchka and Yuln looked at one another, depressed and distressed by the sorrowful news.

  “I can’t find any reason for this atomic explosion,” Doniatchka lamented. “Every country on Earth is united now and lives in harmony. Besides, the arsenal of A and H bombs have been confiscated by our friends, the Polarians.”

  “No one could have launched the bomb… and yet Nagasaki was destroyed once again by a nuclear weapon.”

  The insane response of the Japanese nurse, translated by Kato, left Kariven and his friends bewildered. They gave one another a look of unbelief mixed with worry, bordering on dread. Kato gave a curt order in Japanese to the rescue workers:

  “Turn around and get away from here double quick. We won’t hesitate to shoot again if you follow us.”

  The Japanese complied willingly and ran as fast as they could, probably to go get help.

  “Let’s get out of here, my friends,” Kato suggested. “This place is unhealthy for us in more than one way. Let’s get back to the plane. We’ll be safer there than in the radioactive streets.

  Hurriedly, stumbling and jumping over the debris and corpses, the scientists and crewmembers in their gray anti-radiation suits looked like Michelin Men moving through an apocalyptic landscape.

  Was it the sun, low on the horizon, that caused this opaque grayness sticking to the ravaged land or was it a late fall of pulverized matter drizzling back down after the explosion?

  When they reached the remains of the suburbs of the city, they had a hard time spotting the oblong shape of the plane, ten feet away, drowned in the mysterious grayness. Stopping to catch their breath a little, the specialists huddled together, almost blindly, in order to discuss the situation.

  “This darkening of the day is not due to the ashes and radioactive dust,” Yegov noted. “Look, the wind is coming from the west and we don’t see any whirlwinds. It’s like… this gray is a form… how can I say it? A thing in itself from the air or space around us.” He brought his wrist up to his face behind the transparent, flexible helmet and muttered, “My watch is still stopped at 10:30.”

  A few groans told him that it was the same for the others.

  “Damnit,” Dormoy swore as he noticed that his scintillation counter was gone from his belt. “When I was running through the ruins I lost my scintillator!”

  “Too bad,” Kariven said, “but this is not the time to go back to look for it.”

  All of a sudden the ground shook, jerked, like there was a small earthquake. At the same time the grayness suddenly dissipated and sunlight flooded the area.

  Completely astonished after being thrown off balance they all expected an aftershock because they thought it was an earthquake, pretty common in Japan.

  “The… the sun!” the anthropologist shouted, feeling his mind start to reel.

  They looked up and were stupefied seeing that the sun was now at its zenith when just a minute ago it was ready to set.

  “There! Look!” Kato shrieked, pointing to the southwest. “The… the city is… intact!”

  Indeed, splendid new buildings had replaced the smoking ruins of the city ravaged by the atomic bomb.

  Miss Robson had Streiler’s arm and she was squeezing it nervously through her gloves.

  “Well now,” Tagliero grumbled, “we certainly didn’t dream the whole thing.”

  “Certainly not,” Kariven agreed. “Unless we accept the idea of collective suggestion… which could have forced us to put on our anti-radiation suits.”

  The sound of an engine made them turn around: a Jeep was coming, driven by a Japanese with three passengers in regular clothes—two Japanese and a European. The vehicle screeched to a halt and the three men jumped out.

  Surprisingly, Kato recognized his two compatriots. “By the spirits of my ancestors, it’s Dr. Matsu Haido and Dr. Yu Sakawa!” He bowed respectfully to them and said, “Let me introduce you to my honorable colleagues, Dr. Matsu Haido, atomic physicist, and Dr. Yu Sakawa. And this is Professor Hoeskield, a Norwegian neurologist with the Nagasaki Institute.

  The latter, a tall, thin man with big glasses sitting on his nose, greeted the newcomers, “You had some problems with your plane, no doubt, to have to land here? We’ve been waiting for you at the airport since 11, your scheduled landing time, and it’s already 11:45.”

  Automatically, Kato and the others looked at their watches, which now showed 11:45!

  “I understand less and less,” Yegov grumbled. “And the explosions?”

  The Russian scientist looked embarrassed at his friends and once more contemplated the city that was miraculously reconstructed in a few minutes. He could not say a word.

  Kariven, armed with courage and daring to look like a madman, said, “Dr. Sakawa, my question is going to seem… bizarre maybe but, um… was there an atomic explosion in Nagasaki?”

  The two Japanese and the Norwegian raised their eyebrows in surprise. “I’m afraid I don’t get what you mean, honorable colleague. Except for a weird, brief darkening of the day nothing out of the ordinary happened… certainly not a nuclear explosion!”

  “Today is August 9, 1961, right?” Kato asked shyly.

  “Well of course,” Mitsu Haido was still surprised. “Would it be rude to ask the reason for your… strange attitude, esteemed friends?”

  Almost reluctantly the Japanese teratologist tried to explain the extraordinary adventure they had just lived through. When he had finished, Sakawa was bewildered but bowed politely. “I won’t insult you by doubting your story, but I have to flatly deny it. My response is… a logical paradox. Nothing of what you say happened. In truth, I’m afraid that the trip or overwork has played a nasty trick on all of you.”

  The strident hiss of a twinjet made them all look up. An American plane was circling over Nagasaki. After three complete rounds it came down slowly and landed in the airport to the southeast of the city.

  “That plane wasn’t expected,” Dr. Haido said. “I wonder why it was circling over Nagasaki before landing.”

  The arrival of four automobiles interrupted his reflections and he invited his colleagues to climb in.

  “Do you mind if we all go to the airport where that plane just landed?”

  Without showing his surprise Dr. Haido accepted Kato’s suggestion and ten minutes later the vehicles stopped before the customs office located on the edge of the airfield.

  Three men were coming out of the twinjet: the pilot and two civilians, all three dressed in the same anti-radiation suits that the delegates of the GCSR wore. The two groups of men headed for each other, equally astonished.

  “William Stockfield,” one of the passengers introduced himself, holding a Geiger counter in his left hand. “This is Professor Ernst Robinson, atomic physicist, and Ted Haller, our pilot.”

  When the introductions were over Stockfield raised his voice, “Are we crazy or is this some kind of bad joke? Because judging from your getups that are the same as ours, I see that you got wind of the disaster too.”

  “We even lived thr
ough it up in the air,” Kato explained. “How did you learn about it?”

  “A fighter on a training run over Kyu-Shu alerted Tokyo, saying that an A bomb had just exploded in Nagasaki. Help was organized immediately: a squadron of rescue planes with radiation specialists will be arriving here soon. We came as scouts to check out the ruins and get an estimate of the damage done by the bomb… and we found Nagasaki unharmed? You got to admit that it’s a little hard to swallow!”

  “The more so since the detector planes from Luzon in the Philippines and from Tokyo recorded the powerful explosion… which apparently didn’t take place,” Robinson added.

  “It’s just baffling,” Kariven admitted. “We’re absolutely certain that we saw the bomb explode, saw the usual mushroom cloud of pink gas rise up over the ruins and we all visited the city reduced to ashes… And now this city is brand new again.”

  “Right before the explosion,” Harrington spoke up, “a Japanese fighter jet even sprayed some bullets at us. A jet with the emblem of the Mikado on its wings and hull… just like before the last war!”

  “In short,” Kato summed up, “we had the very unpleasant feeling of traveling back in time 16 years as if by magic.”

  This comment made the whole group feel anxious.

  “Our watches stopped when our plane got caught in this weird grayness,” the anthropologist continued. “And everything started then. For example, it was when we came out of it that everything went back to normal. We could believe that basically for a few hours the past took the place of the present.”

  Harrington shook his head skeptically, “That comes down to imagining our plane was caught in a kind of fold in Space-Time for a certain period.”

  “Yes, in a fold simultaneous with the Present since the entire Earth seems to know about the atomic explosion… which dated back 16 years. The fold in Space-Time that you allude to, Harrington, is here somewhere, in Nagasaki, but encroaches on the Present all over the planet. But the return of the past event itself only happened in this exact spot where it happened 16 years ago.”