The Timekeeper

by Emily Rodda

  “Claire – I’ve, um, just got to go somewhere,” murmured Patrick, backing away quickly through the crowd. “I’ll be back in a minute. OK?”

  “What do you mean you’ve got to go somewhere?” demanded Claire. She twisted around, trying to see her brother, but he had already disappeared from view. “Patrick, I thought you wanted to see … Patrick! Come back here!” she called. She met the amused eyes of the woman behind her, forced a smile and turned as casually as she could back to Danny. How embarrassing!

  Patrick half-ran to the department store entrance and down the line of TV sets till he reached the one he had used before. It was on. He switched rapidly to Channel 8. Roaring snow filled the screen. Patrick leaned forward tensely, waiting. His ears strained for the sound of the clock.

  And then he heard it – its chime louder and more grating than he remembered. One … two …

  The screen flickered. A moving shadow appeared in its centre, dotted and surrounded by dancing points of light. Patrick tried to make out what it was. The shadow moved; its shape became clearer. It was a face. It was Max! His mouth was moving, as if he was shouting, but Patrick could hear nothing above the roaring of the snow.

  Four … five … chimed the clock.

  “Max!” yelled Patrick. “Max, it’s me, Patrick! I need your help!”

  “Help …” Was that an echo of his own voice, bouncing back to him, or was it …?

  Six …

  The image on the screen wavered. Patrick watched helplessly. What was Max trying to say? What should he do?

  Seven … eight …

  Patrick shut his eyes, put his hand over one ear and pressed his other ear against the TV screen. He held his breath.

  Nine …

  Max’s voice, faint, tinny and distorted, but filled with urgency, finally penetrated the background roar. “NEED HELP … WILL YOU COME?”

  “Yes!” Patrick shouted. And the blackness closed in.

  “The clock! I must … quickly … no time!” The old woman struggled to sit up, fell back on the starched pillows. A plump, pink-uniformed figure stood gaping at her, a cup of tea in one hand. The old woman beat her small fists feebly on the sheets. “The clock! Do something, you fool!”

  “Well, honestly,” sniffed the person in pink. Then she stiffened in alarm. The woman in the bed was clutching at her chest, panting for breath. “I’ll get a doctor! Hold on!” She made for the door, slopping tea as she ran.

  “Fool!” The woman in the bed tossed her white head from side to side. “There’s no time for that! No time –”

  5

  Behind the Barrier

  A roaring sound filled Patrick’s ears. His stomach churned. His side ached. What had happened? He realised that his hands were pressed against his eyes, and slowly he forced himself to pull them away. He blinked, unable at first to believe what he was seeing.

  He was lying on the ground, outside, in open air, next to a high wire fence. People stumbled and shouted around him, buffeted by the roaring wind, lurching as the earth rumbled and trembled. Patrick staggered to his feet, wincing with pain. He must have landed heavily and hurt himself. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Where was Max? And the TV studio? Where was he?

  He looked around. And slowly he realised where he was. He had been here before. He was down by the Barrier, where Wendy Minelli the Barrier Guard had her post. But it all looked different. This fence – it was new. A whole section of the shimmering Barrier had been fenced off. Instead of one or two red-coated Guards patrolling the Barrier, now there were dozens running and jostling in panic, being shouted at by big, tall men and women in shiny black uniforms and peaked hats who seemed to be in control. High scaffolding had been built against the Barrier itself. All over the scaffolding hung Barrier Works Squad staff, sturdy in their red overalls and yellow crash helmets, battling against the howling wind, working away with their needles and thread for dear life.

  Patrick could see why. There was a huge Barrier break going on in the fenced-off area. Behind the scaffolding black tears criss-crossed the shining Barrier surface, and through the holes poured a flood of things from the other side – bicycles and shoes, books and hammers and watering cans, hats and sweaters and keys and jewellery, and of course a perfect flurry of odd socks. As fast as the Barrier Guards threw things back, more fell through. And as fast as the Barrier Works Squad mended the tears, more tears appeared.

  “Let us through, you mongrels!” shrieked a voice beside Patrick. He looked around fearfully. A ragged man, his glittering eyes fixed on the Barrier, was shaking his fist at the Guards and their black-clad bosses. “Let us through!” the man yelled again, and kicked at the fence furiously. “We’ve got a right! Scavengers’ rights! We’ve got a right to the pickings! Let us through!”

  “Yeah!” another voice shouted. “We’ve got our living to make, haven’t we? Let us through!”

  “Let us through! Let us through!” The angry call was taken up by Barrier-combers all along the fence. The people in front began to kick the wire. The people behind pushed forward. The fence began to bend. Patrick stared around him, with a rising feeling of panic. There were so many people. He was pressed tightly against the wire. What was going to happen? If the fence collapsed, he’d be trampled. He saw one of the black-uniformed people down by the Barrier look up towards them. She reacted quickly, pointing and barking orders to five or six others, who began running towards the fence, pulling shining black sticks from their belts.

  Patrick began to push and shove too, desperately trying to wriggle back through the crowd, away from the fence. The Barrier-combers hardly looked at him. They had other things on their minds. The black guards reached the fence and silently took their places along it, tall and menacing, brandishing their weapons in gloved hands. Their faces were grim, their eyes hidden behind shining black wrap-around sunglasses.

  They looked terrifying to Patrick, but the Barrier-combers were unimpressed.

  “Aren’t they the cuties, in their little black boots and all?” shrilled one. “Give us a kiss, dear!”

  “Why did the Agent cross the road?” called another voice.

  “I don’t know, Sam,” shrieked another. “Why did the Agent cross the road?”

  “To beat up the chicken on the other side, of course.”

  “Ha, ha, ha!” roared the Barrier-combers. The black figures raised their weapons a little higher.

  Patrick had had enough. He put his head down and pushed with all his might, boring through the grunting, complaining press of people, refusing to give up. All he knew was that he had to get away from the fence. Before the Barrier-combers made another try for the Barrier. Before the Agents, or whatever they were called, got really irritated and decided to charge.

  He reached the back of the crowd, made a final enormous effort and popped out of the mass of bodies like a cork out of a bottle, catapulting straight into something soft and purple.

  “Oof!” gasped the something, staggering. “Hey, watch it, will you?”

  Patrick raised his head. He couldn’t believe his luck. “Ruby!” he shouted, over the raging wind. “Oh, Ruby!”

  “Well, blow me down.” The old Barrier-comber rubbed her stomach and looked down at him in astonishment. “It’s the little bloke from the other side. Patrick, isn’t it? What’re you doing back again?”

  “Max called me,” said Patrick. “Ruby, what’s happening?”

  There was a crack that sounded like thunder, and a roar from the crowd behind them. Ruby’s white hair and tattered clothes flapped around her in the wind. She frowned at Patrick and shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said. “Never in all my years on the Barrier. It’s like the thing’s breaking apart. They can’t stop it. It’s been going on for a week, getting worse and worse. The Guards and the Works Squads couldn’t cope, so yesterday the National Agents were sent in. They’re supposed to be disaster experts. Huh! They put up that fence to keep us out and they’ve been marching up and down
giving orders and messing everyone around. But as far as the Barrier’s concerned they’re about as much use as a pocket in a singlet. Poor Wendy’s that upset. This is her beat. She feels responsible, see. She’s working herself into the ground. I said to her, ‘Wendy, you’ll kill yourself if you don’t –’”

  “But Ruby,” interrupted Patrick. “What’s caused it? Why’s it happening?”

  Ruby looked around nervously. She bent towards him. “On the news they say it’s all quite natural and not to worry, it’ll fix itself up and all that stuff,” she said in his ear. “But round here a lot of people reckon …” She broke off. A lone Barrier-comber was passing, looking at them curiously. Patrick stared back at her. She seemed familiar. Her hollow eyes were piercing. Her mouth moved, and she dabbed at it with a grimy handkerchief. On her bony fingers dozens of rings glittered.

  Patrick jumped. Of course! Of course he had seen this woman before. She was Eleanor Doon, one of the Seekers he had played for in Finders Keepers. But what was she doing here? She’d got her ring back. He had found it for her. So …

  He glanced at Ruby and was startled to see that her weather-beaten face had paled, and she was staring fixedly at Eleanor Doon.

  “Ruby, what’s the matter?” asked Patrick.

  “Don’t say anything!” she whispered, pulling him closer to her. Patrick struggled a little, confused and frightened, but her hand was like iron on his arm. In grim silence she wrapped one side of her floppy green cardigan around his head and shoulders and pulled it tight, so that he was partly hidden against her body. Then she began walking rapidly up the hill, with Patrick stumbling beside her. “What an old fool!” he heard her muttering to herself as she strode along. “What a fool! Where’s your brains, Ruby? Chatting away like it’s a tea-party. A half-trained penguin’d know better …”

  She’s crazy, Patrick thought. What’ll I do? I’ve got to get away! But Ruby was too strong for him. He staggered blindly along, half-suffocated by the musty smell of the cardigan that bound him, hearing only her muttering, the thudding of his own heart, and the roaring of the wind.

  “Aha!” The old woman stopped with a jerk. Patrick made an effort to pull himself free, but she gripped him even more tightly. “Quiet!” she wheezed fiercely. “If you know what’s good for you!”

  They stood still, panting, while the wind howled around them. Behind them, faintly now, rose the sound of the Barrier-combers chanting. Then Patrick heard a shout, and the sound of feet thudding towards them. Again he struggled to free himself, and again Ruby’s arm gripped him and forced him to be still.

  The feet stopped in front of them.

  “Ruby!” squeaked a familiar voice. “Have you …?” Patrick’s heart leaped.

  “I’ve got him,” Ruby said. “Now, you two just get him out of here!” Her fierce grip loosened and, gasping and crying with relief, Patrick darted out of the stifling folds of her cardigan and into the waiting arms of Boopie Cupid.

  6

  Ban the Finders!

  “Sweetie-pie, oh dear, are you all right?” Boopie Cupid patted Patrick’s shaking shoulders. “The computer’s haywire, isn’t it, Max? But we never thought it’d dump you out here instead of inside. Or we’d never have brought you over. I’m so sorry. Thank heavens Ruby found you. We’ve been looking everywhere for you, haven’t we, Max?”

  Max nodded. He looked worried and ill.

  “Listen, don’t waste time yapping now,” urged Ruby. She glanced behind her. “That crazy Seeker of yours – you know, the Doon woman whose ring Patrick found on the show – she was here. She saw Patrick. If she twigs who he is and blabs, there’ll be a riot!”

  Boopie clutched Patrick more tightly. “What on earth was Eleanor Doon doing here? She got her ring back. Don’t say she’s lost something else!”

  Ruby snorted. “Oh, she started hanging round the Barrier months ago. Looking for the ring, I s’pose. A few Barrier-combers start off like that. The amateurs, that is.” She looked behind her again and rushed on. “They come down the Barrier one day, looking for something they’ve lost, see? And along the way they find a few other things. Well, some of them get to like the idea. And they come back the next day, and the next, and after a while, even if they’ve found the thing they lost in the first place, they can’t stay away. They get sort of hooked. Something for nothing, see? They can’t resist it, even when they’re rich, like Loony Doon. They’re a pain in the neck. They get in the way – and for what? It’s not a business for them, see, like it is for us professionals.”

  The old woman drew herself up, wrapping her cardigan more tightly around her as the wind whipped her white hair into tangles. “They don’t sell the stuff. They don’t even give it away. They just take it home and keep it, like poor old dogs burying bones. It’s a disease with them. And a wicked waste of good stuff. I reckon they should be banned, for their own good and everyone else’s.”

  Max was hardly listening. His eyes were fixed on the scene in the valley below them. “Boopie, look at the Barrier,” he said.

  Boopie looked, and her hand flew to her mouth. “It’s worse. Oh, Max, it’s worse!”

  “Getting worse all the time,” said Ruby. She looked sharply at Max. “You know what they’re saying, don’t you?”

  He nodded.

  “It’s stupid!” Boopie burst out. “They don’t know what they’re talking about!”

  “Well be that as it may,” croaked Ruby, pursing her lips, “they’re pretty het up. And I don’t blame them. I don’t swallow all that guff about natural disaster and whatnot. I mean, if it’s so natural, why hasn’t it happened before? And why’s it going on so long? And if it’s not natural, what is it?” She rounded on Max. “You’re the genius! Do you know?”

  Max’s shoulders sagged. He looked very tired. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “But I can’t be sure …” He glanced at Patrick, and his voice strengthened. “That’s why Patrick’s here, actually,” he said. “He’s going to help.”

  “Him?” Ruby exploded. “The kid? Well, look, if that’s your best offer, I think we’d all better pack our bedsocks and start running!” She nodded quickly at Patrick. “No offence, sonny, but you get my drift.”

  Patrick stared at her, and then at Max, speechless. He was exhausted. He could feel his muscles quivering under his skin. His side ached where he had fallen. The wind cut through his clothes and chilled him to the bone. Ruby was right. He was helpless. And useless. There was nothing he could do to help here. Nothing at all.

  “We’ll see about that,” retorted Boopie Cupid. “You might just be surprised, Ruby. There’s more to Patrick than meets the eye.”

  The old Barrier-comber grunted. “Well, good luck to him, then.” She reached out a rough hand and touched Patrick’s cheek. She cleared her throat. “I’ll be off, then,” she said gruffly. “And I’d advise you to make tracks as well. It’s not safe out here – not for you, and especially not for him.”

  Max roused himself. “I know. You’re right,” he said. He moved to Patrick’s side and put his arm around him. “Walk between Boopie and me, Patrick. Then you’ll be less noticeable. Ready? Come on.”

  “Bye, Ruby. Thanks,” said Boopie.

  With a wave the old woman turned away. Max, Patrick and Boopie went on up the hill.

  Patrick found his voice. “Boopie – Max – what’s happening? Why couldn’t I get through to you on the computer? What’s happening here? I don’t understand!”

  Max frowned, his eyes on the ground. “This business,” he said, jerking his head back towards the Barrier, “started a week ago – the day you brought Estelle home. I didn’t hear a thing about it – I was busy at the studio working on the computer – and Lucky Lamont. The power fused as you came through – well, of course you know that. I’ve had quite a few problems with the computer ever since. And Lucky’s had to have completely new circuits.”

  “Will he be OK?” asked Patrick. He still remembered the horror he’d felt as Lucky Lamont, the Finders
Keepers host, had gone mad before his eyes. Of course, he hadn’t known then that Lucky was a robot.

  “Oh, he’ll be all right,” shrugged Max. “He’s the least of our worries.”

  They reached the top of the hill and started walking quickly down the road that led to the TV studio, leaning forward into the wind. Patrick looked around. Everything seemed so ordinary. It would be easy for him to think he was in some street at home. But this thought had barely crossed his mind when there was a distant crack, like lightning, and a low threatening rumble that went on and on. The ground under their feet began to shudder. Max, Patrick and Boopie stopped and clung together, while the wind raged about them. Patrick shook his head. No, there was nothing ordinary about this place.

  The trembling of the earth slowly subsided, and silently they started off again. But this time, they were half-running. This was not a good place to linger.

  “Anyhow,” Max went on, “no one paid much attention at first. Even by Monday, when the girls got the computer through to you, there was no particular fuss being made. Well, that’s obvious – we never even thought to mention it to you, did we? Just a few more Barrier breaks than usual – so what? It had happened before. But then …”

  “It went on,” Boopie broke in. “Tuesday, Wednesday … and getting worse every day. Break after break after break. And all in this one area. We tried to contact you, but first you weren’t answering, and then the computer wouldn’t link with yours at all. On the news they said it was just something that happens every hundred years or so. They’re still saying that. But the Barrier-combers don’t believe it, and neither do we. And I don’t think even the experts do any more, really. Yesterday they declared this a disaster area and sent the Agents in. They’re in charge now – of the Barrier and the Guards, and of us. They’re in charge of everything. And then today the ground started to shake. And this awful wind blew up …” She fell silent.