Genghis Khan checks the position of the wolves, considers Hitler, then tosses his shield aside and lunges for the ladder.
“Nein!” Hitler shouts, waving the crossbow at him. Khan ignores the threat and plants his foot on the bottom rung. Hitler rushes forward and the wolves close in behind him. Not wanting to be the first ones eaten, I pull Piper toward the ladder as well. That’s when Hitler swings the crossbow toward us and fires the bolt. I barely have time to get the shield up before the arrowhead imbeds itself in the metal just above my arm. I stumble back from the impact. Hitler hurls the entire crossbow at me, narrowly missing us, then lunges for Khan. The two men grapple at the base of the ladder, pushing back and forth. Hitler somehow manages to wrest the sword away from Khan, forcing the Mongol away, then spins and starts climbing the ladder.
Piper screams as Genghis Khan grabs hold of the spear in her hands and tries to yank it away from her. She holds on tightly, but before I can stop him, Khan flings her sideways into the path of the wolves. Piper tumbles to the dirt in a heap. The Mongol hoists the spear, aims, then hurls it toward me. I get the shield up, but this time nothing hits me. The spear flies overhead and Hitler grunts as he reaches for the shaft in his back, then plummets from the ladder.
The wolves lunge for Piper.
I barrel through Khan on my way to her. He is caught off guard and the edge of the shield hits him in the chin. He goes over backward, hitting his head in the process.
A wolf has Piper by the bottom of her shoe. It’s the ankle she twisted earlier, and she’s shrieking in pain and terror. I swing the shield and shout as I rush forward, forcing the wolf to release her, but it only retreats a few feet. The pack is closing in. They’re getting bolder. I pull Piper to her feet and she clutches me by the waist. I cover her with the shield and half drag her toward the ladder. Hitler is writhing on the ground attempting to get up. The spear has come loose and is lying at the base of the ladder. As soon as we are close enough, I scoop up Piper and deposit her on the first rung. “You have to climb.”
“I can’t!” There are tears in her eyes.
“You have to. You can do this.” I swing the shield around to keep the wolves at bay. Piper begins to climb.
Khan is getting back up. He gets to his knees and puts a hand to his head. Then he realizes his danger. The wolves are under the platform now, snarling and nipping at him, trying to get a piece of him between their teeth. He rushes for me but I spin to block him with the shield.
I’m facing the same choice he did before. Fight or climb. I snatch up the spear and then hurl it at him. It doesn’t hit him at the right angle to do any damage, but he ducks anyway and the shaft at least ricochets off his head. It buys me enough time to clamber onto the ladder. With the shield on one arm, I’m forced to basically climb one-handed, but I’m winning the only contest that matters right now. Don’t be the last one up.
I make it several rungs then look down to find Hitler and Khan grappling again, fighting for position on the ladder.
Piper has reached the top and scrambles up onto the platform.
I make it perhaps halfway up when I feel the hand on my ankle. I look down to find Khan yanking on it. His face is red and furious. He’s working desperately to climb up after me and pull me from the rungs. Hitler is attempting to climb behind him but there is no room. The wolves close in and one of them leaps for his legs. The first wolf misses, but then the black-furred alpha emerges from the pack and leaps, burying his fangs into the dictator’s thigh. Hitler screams and scrabbles to grab ahold of Khan, but the Mongol yanks his foot free and kicks him. The wolf pulls Hitler from the ladder.
I cringe at the horrifying sounds that follow and keep climbing. Piper is at the top of the platform, her arms wrapped around the bars of the cage, but her eyes are closed. I don’t blame her. I scramble up to join her. The cage is too small to fit both of us and the shield. “Get in and lock the door,” I say, gesturing for her to climb inside.
Her bright eyes find mine and she shakes her head.
“Please. I need your help.” I hold the shield out to her while reaching for the chronometer in my pocket. “We’ll use this as an anchor. I’m going to get us back to this morning.”
Piper takes the shield. Hitler’s crossbow bolt is still protruding from one side.
Khan reaches the top of the ladder. He shrieks something at me in a language I don’t understand, but I really don’t care what he’s saying. I pull the multi-tool from my pocket and select both the screwdriver and the knife.
“Lock the cage, Piper. I won’t let him hurt you.”
I set the chronometer dials quickly, then plug the power cell back in.
There is a very small ledge surrounding the cage. If Khan stays on the ladder, or if he hangs out calmly, we should all be able to survive the wolves.
Unfortunately it doesn’t seem like he’s the calm type. He shouts at me, waving one arm and gesturing to the cage. I have no idea what he’s saying. He repeats himself and gestures again.
“He says there can only be one,” Piper says.
She has pulled my sunglasses from my jacket and is now wearing them. She must be running the translation app.
“He says the game won’t end till there’s one. He says he’ll kill me because you won’t. As a favor.”
“How do you say, ‘Go to hell’ in Mongolian?” I ask.
Khan gets the idea. He narrows his eyes and starts to ascend to the platform. I haven’t got the chronometer finished, but there’s no time. I set the multi-tool and the chronometer inside the cage. “I need you to screw that back together. Screws are in the jacket pocket. Anything happens to me, you make the jump, okay?”
Piper looks like she’s about to cry. “Come inside. Come inside!” she shrieks. But there’s no room.
“It’s okay. We’ve got this,” I say. “Just put it together.”
Then Khan is up.
I go for the quick finish. With one hand gripping the cage bars, I kick for his midsection, looking to knock him from the tower. He’s too fast and grabs my leg. He rams a fist toward me, narrowly missing my groin and hitting me in the thigh. He scrambles upward, using my body as his ladder, all fists, sweat, and cursing. I land a right hook to the side of his head, but then he’s too close, pressed up against me and trying to wrench me from the bars. He’s crazy. If I let go now, we’ll both go over. But he doesn’t seem to care.
Having one fewer hands is a huge disadvantage. His fists and hands keep alternating. Grasping here. Punching there. I’ve never had to fight like this before. I pry at his throat with my forearm. He’s hissing and spitting and now my fingers are slipping from the bars. He’s somehow managed to wedge himself under my arm and is prying my body away from the cage with his strong, compact frame. My height advantage does me no good. In fact, it’s a liability. I realize, possibly too late, that I’m losing this fight.
“Aaagh!” Khan lunges and sinks his teeth into the hand I’m grasping the cage with. I slam my other fist into his midsection, then his back, but he doesn’t stop. I have no choice but to release my grip on the bars before he rips my thumb off.
He knew exactly what he was doing. I teeter on the ledge. His foot flashes out and kicks me in the shin, dislodging me. The world spins and my brain gives me a view of the arena in slow motion. Rows of observers under a clear blue sky. Long drop to the arena floor. Ravenous wolves.
Ladder.
I wrap my arms around the rungs before they disappear. My body slams into the ladder.
My wind is knocked out of me but I haven’t fallen. Not yet.
Genghis Khan now looms over me, grinning. He says something I don’t understand, but lifts his boot to kick me in the face. I understand that completely.
The noise of the strike is quiet but distinct.
Khan’s face suddenly changes. He wavers, half-attempts to put the foot down but can’t. He winces as he pivots, revealing the crossbow bolt wedged into his hip. Piper is backing away, looking tiny in my oversi
zed jacket and sunglasses. Bits of feather from the arrow’s fletching drift away from her fingertips. Khan is turning on her, his face a mask of rage, but it’s all the distraction I need. I grab his lame leg by the ankle and pull. The Mongol ruler teeters, arms waving wildly, but then gravity wins.
The crowd in the arena holds its collective breath.
Khan tumbles past me and hits the ground hard. I don’t watch the rest.
I scramble onto the platform and wrap Piper in my arms.
“You said I could skip straight to fighting if it’s Nazis. Was he a Nazi?”
“Close enough,” I say. “Good girl.” I kiss her on the head and usher her back to our shield. Even with the fight, she’s managed to get all the screws started in the back plate of the chronometer. They aren’t tight but it’s close enough.
The announcer is saying something over the loudspeaker. People are cheering.
The game is apparently finished but I don’t care. We aren’t staying. I mash the shield to the floor of the platform and squat atop it.
I snap the chronometer to my wrist, set the timer mechanism to five seconds, then grab Piper by the wrist. My chronometer hand extends for the shield. Piper wraps her other arm around my shoulders.
Three.
Two.
One.
We blink.
The past is dark. At least it seems that way a lot of the time for me. I’ve jumped us twelve hours. It’s the middle of the night in the armory. A dwindling torch near the doorway is the only light to illuminate our arrival.
A crunching noise follows our jump, and the previously rounded shield buckles under our weight.
I waver but keep my balance.
Piper stays silent as we gingerly climb off the table full of weapons. She tests out her ankle.
“Can you walk on it?” I ask.
“I think so.” She takes a few careful steps.
I adjust the position of my now dented shield on the table, trying to remember how it looked when I found it. I’ll be picking it out later today with Vanessa.
Vanessa. The way out.
I rub my forehead, trying to recall her exact words. “Come on,” I tell Piper. “We need to get to the gate.”
I lead us into the hallway but have to pause. I can’t see much of anything beyond the small ring of torchlight.
“I can see,” Piper whispers. She’s still wearing the sunglasses. Low light vision comes standard.
She leads the way down the hall while holding my hand. She’s limping a little, but it seems like the injury isn’t serious. Either way, she hasn’t let me out of reach since the tower. Her fingers are still tightly clenched to mine.
I look back once as we walk.
Abraham is still down here, sleeping in his cell somewhere. There’s nothing I can do about it right now. Without him being there later to instruct me on the chronometer, I’d never escape. No way I can change that now and not affect the timeline. We’ll have to come back for him later, preferably with reinforcements.
The time gate is still where we last saw it. Well, we haven’t even come through it yet. That gives me pause, thinking of the events that the me who comes through later will have to deal with. I don’t envy his day.
“Can you get it powered on?” I ask Piper.
She releases her grip on my hand and moves to the control panel. She gets the access door open and starts punching in commands.
“Look for a destination in 1958. She said we might be safer there.”
“Who did?” Piper turns on the destination menu.
“Vanes—”
The time gate suddenly illuminates. The colored streams of light blast from the emitters and meet in the middle, warping into the temporal field.
“Whoa!” Piper says.
“What happened?” I say.
“I didn’t do that,” Piper blurts out.
I take a step back just in time. A huge figure steps through the gate. Broad shoulders, muscled arms. That terrifying metal helmet. The Gladiator. He’s holding a sword this time.
I back away a few more feet. Piper shrinks against the wall.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find you? Did you think you could really escape?” Franco’s voice resonates inside the helmet. “This is my world! My world and my rules. You are here to do as I say, and you survive at my will.” He steps toward me and I put my hands up.
“Whoa whoa whoa.” I get down to a knee. “We don’t want trouble. I’m sorry. I promise we won’t try to escape anymore. Just please don’t hurt us.” I fiddle with the chronometer on my wrist and slip it off. I hold it aloft to him and keep my head down. “Please, take it. Just don’t hurt us anymore.”
He looms over me, his sheer bulk making the room seem smaller by comparison. He snatches the chronometer from my hand. “Your life is mine now, Travers. You are right to kneel in—”
The Gladiator vanishes.
I pick a little dust out of my eyelashes and then get slowly to my feet. I brush the dirt off my knees, then locate Piper in the corner.
“So, I’m going to give you a little dad knowledge right now. These bad guys? They always fall for the timer trick. Like clockwork.” I hold out my hand and smile. Piper rushes over. She wraps me in a hug again. “Okay.” I pat her shoulder. “I just switched the directional slider on the chronometer to forward, so now that he’s holding onto it for the next twelve hours, we’re going to need to use your time gate skills again. You think you can find us 1958 on that thing?”
Piper nods.
“Okay. Let’s get out of here.”
18
“Throughout life there are two kinds of people: Those who tempt you to become a lesser version of yourself, and those who will inspire you to greatness. Choose carefully to whom you will give your time.” -Journal of Dr. Harold Quickly, 2010
Time gates are a leap of faith.
With my usual method of time travel—chronometers—I’m at least assured that some diligence has gone into planning an arrival location and time. There has been research involved and often photographic proof that the destination is safe for arrival, all conducted by experienced time travelers that I trust.
Those were the days.
I’m currently stepping through a stolen time gate hot-wired by criminals and reprogrammed for timestreams so far out in the multiverse that they don’t even show up on the charts. I can only take small comfort in the fact that my guidance has come from the least murderous of the ex-convicts involved. But I’ve known her for less than a day, and during that time she’s mostly been holding me hostage.
I could be stepping into a war zone. Or a volcano.
Or . . . a theme park.
As the brilliant colors of the transition dissipate from my vision, my senses attempt to process my new but semi-familiar surroundings. Piper and I have arrived in the back corner of some sort of dressing room. It could be a costume shop or perhaps we’re backstage at a play. The racks of extravagant outfits and strange furry masks are cute and friendly-looking, and the noises coming from beyond the closed door are distinctly cheerful as well—laughter, and high-pitched chatter, the kind that only comes from one segment of the population. Children.
“Are we safe now?” Piper asks.
I look down at the little girl who has so bravely managed this ordeal so far. Somewhere in her question is a desperation—a hope that our trials will be over.
I wish they were too.
I turn and face the time gate. It’s been anchored to a wall but is concealed by artwork. The structure around it resembles a medieval castle gate. It appears to be mobile, a set piece for a play or production perhaps.
“Let’s get this thing disconnected somehow,” I say, running my hands along the surface near the temporal field emitters. “We don’t want Helmet Head coming after us.”
“I think you can just unplug it,” Piper says.
I lean around the back of the gate and discover that it’s plugged into a 220 volt outlet in the wall. I pull the pl
ug from the socket and let the cord dangle, then look back at Piper. “You remind me of your mom, you know that? Glad you got her brains.”
Piper is still swimming in my leather coat. She shifts the sunglasses up to her head and smiles. “But she says I got your guts.”
“Even more than mine,” I say. “You’re way braver than I was at your age.” She grins and I reach for her hand. “Come on. Let’s see where the heck we are.”
“I smell popcorn,” she says.
“Yeah. Me too.”
We slip out of the dressing room past a stage door with a cartoon teddy bear on it. A few yards down the hallway there is a poster for a show featuring dancing animatronic bears in medieval costumes. It looks like a ridiculous premise, but judging by the applause and laughter coming from the auditorium, we’re witnessing a smash hit.
An exit sign on a doorway beckons.
I push my way through it with Piper on my heels.
We emerge into pleasant and sunny daylight. A cool breeze is wafting down the sidewalk, bearing the scent of delicious fried and sugary things. I recognize a logo on one of the nearby signs. True to my suspicions, we’re back in Yesteryear Adventure Park, but this time the park is alive.
“It’s happy now,” Piper says, observing the bustling atmosphere. A quartet of young boys races past with a string of paper tickets in their hands. They’ve got shirts tucked into their high-waisted shorts and socks up to their knees.
Piper shrugs out of my jacket and hands it back to me, but she lowers the sunglasses back over her eyes, clearly not caring that they are too large for her face. “They have food.”
I don my jacket again, then follow her gaze across the pedestrian walkway to a snack stand. Customers are walking away with corn dogs, soda bottles, and tiny, delicious-smelling packets of French fries. My stomach growls immediately. I don’t know where we are or what our next step should be, but food seems like a good place to start.
“Can we get something?” Piper peers up at me and grasps my hand. I get the impression it’s not the first time she’s employed the tactic.
In Times Like These Boxed Set Page 176