by T Hodden
“I don't get it.” Ginger said, absently nosing through the books and clutter that covered every available surface in the rooms.
“I know.” Gwyn agreed. “He always dresses so dapper, but his home is always a tip.”
“No.” Ginger said. “James J Sigerson is nobody. I've never heard of him. Yet there is all this secrecy about his name. I mean, even here, he was called Shirley, but his books all say James.”
“Names have power.” I said. “Even the names we give ourselves. Or ask our friends to use when they right about our amazing adventures for Strand magazine. Shirley is a nickname. Sher means bright, or blonde. Those who he grew up with spoke dead tongues and liked to play with words. I expect young Michael or Mikey gave himself an equally outlandish name, or was gifted one by his friends and family. Shirley had a big head of sher hair. That it sounds like he is a girl was no doubt a bonus.” I smiled at Ginger. We were in the kitchen making tea, so I pulled the door too. “He is going to have a career fighting criminals, and become famous doing it. So perhaps not always using his real name is a bit canny?”
“So...” Ginger put his paws over his mouth. “I thought all the pictures of him were of a man with slick black hair and the silly hat.”
“Yes. And not a photo among them. Hardly helps you undercover if you have the most famous face in the world does it? But that is all ahead of him. Right now he has no idea that anything he does will make him famous. Law and Order works differently now. In eighteen seventy it is a new art, far from evolved. He wont start his career proper, the cases you will have heard about until he is nearly thirty, in the late eighteen eighties. His friend will act his biographer, but he will ask for key details to be changed. Names, dates, and an address that is nonsense. But it becomes popular, so popular that the fiction used as a disguise takes on power of its own. The myth is so set in peoples head it becomes, for many, the real version. The facts. His biographer for example made his address in the serialised accounts the office of the solicitors that accepted postal correspondence on his behalf. Hundreds upon hundreds of letters turn up every year. Long after his official death. In the hope he is still able to answer.”
Ginger and Gwyn stared at me.
“So, how do we keep him safe?” Gwyn asked. “Do we even know how or when the Musketeers will try to kill him?”
“Unfortunately I can't just pluck that from the air can I?” I sighed.
“Wendy can.” Ginger whispered. He mimed her shaking her bobble hat full of letters.
I had to admit: It wasn't the worst plan in the world. We took the tray of tea and coffee into the sitting room, pulled up our chairs by the meagre fire, making room on the low table.
“Great Ancestor bear, of time and space. When will the meany show his ugly face?” Wendy sang as she shook and tipped out her tiles.
B (for Beer)
W (for Wear Wolf)
V (for Victory)
R (for Robot).
“Robot?” Clarumcoma the pipsqueak chewed his lip. “An unusual word.”
“Be Wearwolf the robot.” I said. “Beware the robots?”
Ted groaned and shrank back into his chair.
“You had to tell them about the killer robot film didn't you?” Ginger snapped and slapped Ted on the back of his head with a moan.
“Well, okay, that was a bad idea.” Ted admitted. He looked at Musket who was shaking his head and covering his eyes. He stepped up to the table and started to look for some of the tiles. He spelt the word: PALADIN.
“So I am to be attacked by a holy warrior?” Clarumcoma shook his head. Then he realised that Musket was holding up a tile, R for Robot. He studied it. “A machine man?”
Musket nodded.
“Where are you all from?” Clarumcoma asked in an even tone. I reached into my pocket and found my phone. I showed him the date on the screen. He stared blankly at the device, trying to imagine what it could be used for, fascinated by the images on the screen, the feel of the plastic, the light it emitted.
“We are from your future.” I said. “And somebody from our future wishes to kill you.”
“Who?” He asked. When I could offer no answer he persisted. “Why?”
“To invade our time.” I said.
“Your future is invading your world? Do you live in a fever dream?” He laughed, then it froze in his throat. He stared at us, his mouth hanging open. “You are serious?”
“Returning that diamond necklace,” I said, pointing at his pocket, “is one of the few moments in your early life that is recorded with any certainty.”
“And, er, to preserve history we have to make sure he does it.” Ted checked his watch. “In an hour. I suggest we go with him, as that is where he will be likely to be in danger.”
“Oh by all means.” Clarumcoma rolled his eyes. “A whole load of bears and an imbecile. Why would I not ask you along out of morbid curiosity?”
I smiled and pretended not to know that was an insult.
“Well that is where I would wait to ambush us if I was a killer robot.” Ted said. “Unless I was just going to do something stupid like knock on his front door.”
Something very big and heavy started to knock on the front door. We all turned to look at Ted, apart from Musket who was worming his way back into the sofa. One by one we turned to stare at the door. The door was not being knocked, but knocked down. It bounced on its hinges and bulged inwards as something slammed against it again. And again. And then the bottom half of the exploded in a shower of splinters and rendered wood. A silver bear, very much like Musket but carrying himself in a mechanical manner stepped into the apartment and glared at us all. It's paw unfolded as it became the barrel of a gun, that it pointed directly Clarumcoma. I ran forwards, swinging a kick at the Paladin. He looked like a bear, he looked soft and cuddly, but my foot met him with a bone shaking thud that sent pain shooting from my toes to my groin, but he did not even flinch. With his spare paw he grabbed my foot and threw me across the room. I landed against a bookshelf where a eat cleaver pinned a stack of papers to the wood. My back was in agony and my head swam.
Clarumcoma had pulled a pistol from his pocket and filled the room with smoke as he fired two shots at the paladin. The silver bear did not notice as bullets bounced off what ever exotic ceramics were under his fur coat. He lifted his gun hand, braced it like it was a pistol and aimed at the youthful Clarumcoma, whose arrogance had subsided and fear clouded his eyes.
The shot went wild. At the same moment that the Paladin fired his pistol Ginger yanked the rug out from under its feet. The bear went tumbling along with the small table and a lamp. The Paladin was getting up and racing across the floor to subdue Ginger. I saw the time travel device that the silver bear wore in a holster. Gwyn was following my gaze.
“Ginger!” Gwyn shouted. “Look at the red button.”
“Red button?” A dreamy look came over Ginger. A wide smile on his lips. “So pretty!” As the Paladin tried to get a clear shot at Clarumcoma Ginger darted forwards and smacked the red button on the device. He jumped aside as the ball of white light covered the Paladin. When it blinked away the robot bear was gone. “Okay. The Ginger Flame is Awesome!”
“So, er, were there any co-ordinates set?” I asked.
Musket shook his head.
“So he could be anywhere in the universe, any when in history?” Wendy whispered.
Musket nodded.
“Er, I think friend Shirley hit his head.” Gwyn said. He was right. Clarumcoma had thrown himself into cover and bumped his head. He was pretty dazed and confused. We left him sat up and comfortable, so when he came too he could get on with his life. Then we decided it would be best if we moved on. I checked the controls, selected our next destination and pressed the button. We gathered close and vanished into time. We had to go rescue Clarumcoma one more time.
*
We fell back into reality on a fine and fresh summer afternoons. Thinking back now I can see the alpine flowers, the distant peaks wit
h snow caps, the jagged rocks and the ominous waterfall. I can see it all so clearly. But what I saw at the time was much less than that. Clarumcoma was locked in mortal combat with his nemesis. Clarumcoma's cane parried the sword that kept lashing out at him. They were oblivious to us, or to the Musketeers who were taking careful aim with those snub nosed sub machine guns of theirs.
I got a good view of this because everything went wrong the split second I arrived. I materialised right at the very edge of the rocky path, looking down at the waterfall below us. I had no time to correct my balance as in that same instance I was falling. As I hit the ledge about six feet from where we had materialised I crashed into the two Musketeers, dragging them with me in a flailing mess of limbs. The bears, who had all landed on firmer footing saw it all. They saw me crashing into the assassins and dragging them with me. Their eyes widened and locked on mine as my fall continued. I crashed into the elderly villain, who buckled under the impact and dropped his sword as he too was dragged off that final ledge, along with Clarumcoma. We bounced down some sheer cliffs of jagged stone, the Musketeers, the Villain and myself all screaming in pain and terror as we hit empty air, and gravity hurled us towards the churning pool of dark water and fang shaped rocks at the bottom of the waterfall.
We all screamed as one.
*
I was not dead. The dead don't get to dream. It felt strangely cold there on the stage, staring into the magic circle at the waning figure of dust and shadow.
“Hope.” I whispered, trying to get it to cling to existence. I lay on the polished wood and tried to reach out with my mind. She was looking down at me, weaker than she was before. I started to shout names, anything that started with a H, then an I, doubling back and forth as more names occurred to me. I stopped. “I have a time machine.” I said. “I can save the world, charge it up, then-”
Her shadow bulged around the middle. I knew that look. She had hands on her hips.
“I said then. THEN. After the world is safe I will hop back in time and discover the rest of your name. I will find a way to save you. I promise.”
She shook her head again.
“Right. Because if it was just a case of borrowing a phone charger Musket would have sorted that for his own one.” I sighed. “So I will either have to carry on doing this long way, or learn to bend the rules of time and space.
Doreen nodded.
“I love you Doreen Grey Hope.” I whispered.
She pointed at me. I reached behind me and felt slick warm blood on my back. I suddenly felt very cold and this dream was growing very dark. For just a moment, for one tantalising blink of the eye she was in focus. I could see her, trying not to cry. I smiled and looked into her eyes.
Something ripped through me. I could feel every bone in my body break at once. I could feel suns go supernova in my chest. I could feel an ice cold void of utter darkness. Everything went utterly dark for a moment.
A flash of light. No more than a blink, an image of a glass tank, warm fluid around me, light so bright I could feel it burning my eyes and burrowing into my head.
Then, all at once I could feel everything, every pore of my body, every bone, every muscle. Darkness washed over me as I broke the surface of ice cold water.
*
I opened my eyes and found myself staring into big pink eyes. A broad smile split across a youthful face as pale as china.
“Tears?” I whispered. The white haired girl nodded and helped me up.
“You hit enough rocks on the way down to cushion your fall.” She said solemnly. “But you stopped breathing in the pool.” She had to raise her voice over the thunder of the waterfalls. “Come, we must be ready to move.” She held out one of the devices.
“And where did you get that?” I asked.
“I stole it.” She shook her head. “We don't have time. The others are coming down the long way. We do not have time to wait for them, not if we would protect your mother.”
“Even if Musket is with them?” I asked.
“Yes.” Tears said. “My Paladin Unit will protect the rest of the bears. But you must help me.” She showed me her unit. “The date the Horizon set is for your conception. But they will have by now realised your father will be there to protect your mother. They intend to find her on a date before she conceived you. Before she met your father. The day she was due to begin training at Hendon Police Training College perhaps? What would that be?”
I looked the girl up and down. My eyes fell on her tattoo.
“Oh no.” I groaned. “You aren't her.”
“Of course I am.” The Musketeer lied. “I came here to rescue you.” Her eyes widened, her body language opened. She leant closer. “I believe I am falling in love with you.”
“No you aren't. No you didn't. No you aren't.” I said. “Or did you just happen to stumble on your memories and a time machine?”
She glowered at me. “But I am a woman in peril who is willing to make her eyes doughy and her body language open to you. You will trust me and you will fall for my vulnerable wiles.”
I reached up and felt my head, suddenly sure I must have hit it harder than I thought.
There was a noise. A distant noise getting louder. Getting closer. Echoing through the cavern.
“Can you please explain how any of that was meant to make sense?” I waved away the answers. “It doesn't matter.” I was staring at the bodies that were floating in the pool. Clarumcoma, in his shooting tweeds and walking boots was floating face up. As he had grown up his blonde hair had darkened into a deep reddish brown, his jaw line had set hard, his face had aged into his angular features and hawkish eyes. Now he was staring into oblivion. Still and unmoving. “Look. You won. Leave us alone now.”
The Musketeer nodded and stepped forwards. “Secondary mission accomplished.” She craned her head. She could hear that same noise. She was trying to work out what it was. She lifted a gun to point at me. “Primary objective is about to be fulfilled.” She looked up. “What is that noise?”
“...iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinger Flamer!” Ginger said as he bounced down the mountain and smashed into the gun wielding clone. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she toppled to the floor. A dead weight. Ginger rolled across the heather then jumped to his feet. He punched the air. “Oh yes! And that is why you do not play on waterfalls! Yes! What a high! I really want to set fire to something.” He stopped moving. “Oh dear. You just killed Clarumcoma.”
I nodded.
“Well, his biographer didn't imagine it quite like that did he?” Ginger whimpered. “We failed.”
Four: Back to the present.
The others gathered around us and stared. The clones were unmoving. The elderly villain was face down and still as death. Clarumcoma was doing a fine impression of a doornail.
“So what do we do now?” Wendy asked.
“We get a stick and poke him?” Ted suggested.
Musket had finished duct taping up the clone that was still out cold. He kept looking at me with a disgusted scowl on his face.
“Give it a little longer.” I whispered.
“Why?” Ted turned on me. “In case a bolt of lightning strikes him and revives him?”
“Remember what we spoke about before?” I said.
Teds eyes widened. “So it may not be too late?”
“Too late for what?” Clarumcoma blinked and started to drift in our direction. He stood when the water was shallow enough and felt his body with nervous fingers.
“So he didn't fake his death and climb away from the waterfall like in the book?” Ginger asked from the side of his mouth. “Hang on, why is he not dead?”
“No.” Clarumcoma said. “Like your friend I aimed to break my fall several times on the way down, skidding down some of the rocks. Unlike him I am rather good at playing possum. I learned a meditation technique that relaxed me and lowered my metabolism considerably. It worked rather will. What book?”
“Ah.” Ted rubbed his chin. “That might take some expl
aining.”
“Are your friends convinced of my death?” He asked softly. I nodded. So he smiled. “Well, may I ask what it was you noticed to be so sure I was alive?”
I smiled weakly. “I'm sorry. We have to go. What ever you do now is probably your own business. It's probably safer for you we don't know.”
He nodded. “I had made arrangements to remain dead after this day. It seems it will be to escape more people than my nemesis. I hope if I see you again it will not be for a very long time my friends. You always bring such interesting trouble.”
We gathered the clones together and fired up their device, sending them back to the present, but reconfiguring the geographical coordinates to send them somewhere they would be able to cause less trouble. Once there had been the flash and they went popping out of reality we got ready to move on ourselves.
The bears waved, apart from Musket who seemed uncomfortable. He patted my hand anxiously.
“So where are we going now?” Gwyn asked brightly.
“Home to Eternity.” I said. “For the day of my conception.”
“Ah, super.” Gwyn said. “Many happy returns.”
“I always hated walking in on Mum and Dad getting snuggly.” I said as I pressed the red button. We popped out of time with a sensation like hitting an air pocket. We emerged on a familiar beach on a brisk spring morning. Eternity. Fashions had changed, and the litter seemed oddly alien, yet it was unmistakably home.
“So, not wanting the gooey details,” Wendy said as we walked through the town, “but how did this thing happen? I mean was it a particular night, or a romantic date, or was there some kind of crux or catalyst?”
As though to answer her there was a screeching and unearthly cry from overhead. Something that might have been a bird were the skin not leathery and the beak filled with teeth, swooped down at us. The thing lashed with claws and lunged with the beak. I dragged Musket aside.
“No, but it was a memorable day.” I said, as the bears took cover behind the struts and supports of the pier. I took off my coat and tried to shoo away the pterodactyl as it squawked and lashed out at us. Then jumping down from the pier there was another figure. She was strong, and nimble, catching the wayward dinosaur in a bed sheet and holding it down until she could take a syringe from her dungarees and jabbing the beast with it to sedate it.