Borrowed Time

by Greg Leitich Smith

  He climbed over the seats to check out the compartments in the rear of the boat. One was an empty but big live well to store a catch. Stowed by its side were a landing net and another bait bucket. The last compartment held a hibachi grill, a box of matches in a plastic bag, a flint and steel, and a BIC lighter.

  Gradually, the tree ferns gave way to a clearer channel, with more cypress trees growing into the water, their root knees sticking above the surface like weird periscopes.

  Occasionally, Nate peered over the side to watch the Enchodus swim.

  The boys seemed to have an adequate supply of water and Nate figured they wouldn’t have too much trouble building a shelter. That he knew how to do from summer camp. And as for food . . .

  He grabbed the landing net and went to stand at the bow of the boat.

  “Don’t fall in,” Brady said.

  “Slow down a little,” Nate told him, gesturing with the long-handled net.

  Brady adjusted the throttle to idle. For a moment, they drifted. Then Nate lowered the net, swinging it through the water with both hands on the handle. When he heaved it back up, three fish were caught.

  It was more than enough for today, although Nate was really hungry since he’d missed dinner back home. But catching the fish gave him something to do other than think about his throbbing leg and the fact that they were the only humans on the planet. He stowed the fish in the live well, stashed the net and sat down on the fishing chair at the bow of the boat.

  The channel grew steadily narrower again, the waterway was only about five or so feet wide. Nate was beginning to think they’d have to turn around when they came to a bend.

  And right after the bend, standing on a fallen tree that bridged the channel, was a girl.

  Chapter

  VI

  Max

  PETRA AND I EXPLORED THE CABIN FURTHER BUT DIDN’T FIND ANYTHING PARTICULARLY WORTHWHILE. At least, not if our goal was to get home. There was a linen cabinet in each of the bedrooms, made of cedar, according to Petra, which was supposed to prevent moths. There was no evidence of mice because mice wouldn’t evolve for another twenty million years or so.

  Out back was a different story. In a side building stood an oil-burning generator and a really big tank beside it.

  Petra looked at the generator. “Just needs some fuel.” She checked some hoses, then adjusted a spigot. “There.” After a moment, the generator began spinning and the light bulb hanging overhead sputtered into light.

  “Umm, how did you know how to do that?” I asked.

  “Your grandfather has the same one on the ranch,” she replied. “To operate the Chronal Engine.”

  I nodded. I guess that meant that, back in the day, Mad Jack Pierson had probably bought two for the price of one. Or something like that.

  The island wasn’t large. Maybe about five or six times the area of the dogtrot and the generator hut. A trio of cypress trees anchored one end of the island, at the edge of a wet stand of horsetails. We circled the hut, past a ginkgo tree, ending up at a marsh.

  “Look,” Petra said, walking to an overturned canoe. A pair of paddles were leaning against one of the cypresses. “It’s new. Hasn’t been here long. The lacquer’s not faded.”

  I shook my head, not sure what to make of it. We headed back into the dogtrot and sat on the Adirondack chairs in the passageway. With the lights up and running, and the prevailing wind and ceiling fans providing some relief from the heat, it was actually kind of nice. I started thinking.

  From the last time we had been here, I knew the geography. Sort of. To our south, a river ran out of the lake to the shore of the Western Interior Seaway. Along the banks of the river was a forest of redwoods, like the trees you’d see in Northern California. But to get there, you had to pass through a hilly region. We could see the tallest hill from the cabin. And from there we’d have a panoramic view of the river and lake country. We’d be able to see signs of smoke from fires or even a boat on this river.

  The problem was, it was a good four or five hours’ walk away. Through territory teeming with large predators in the tyrannosaur family.

  I didn’t like the fact that we didn’t have an easy way back home. And that there was someone now who knew we were here and had stolen our Recall Device.

  But the cabin didn’t seem to contain any more useful information, although it had all kinds of stuff that would help if we wanted to stick around here for a while.

  It definitely seemed that our arrival now was after our visit the last time, when Campbell was holding Emma hostage here. To me and Petra, it had been just a couple of days. In this time, it could’ve been a lot longer. But that still meant that downriver, on the shore of the Western Interior Seaway, was a half-sunken steamboat. Which had, at one point, a functioning Recall Device. Built in. Which we might be able to use to get home. Assuming it still worked, of course.

  “If we don’t find Nate here, we’re going to have to leave the cabin,” I told Petra, and explained about the Recall Device.

  “Do you know how to get that device working?” she asked.

  “Maybe,” I said. “It looked like it was working when we were here before, actually. We should take tools from the cabin, though, just in case.”

  Petra looked skeptical and took Aki outside, carrying her bow with her. I followed as she set the little dromaeosaur down beside the path leading to the dock, the ferns and horsetails providing coverage for him to hide and plenty of bugs to hunt.

  Almost immediately, the creature zipped off into the undergrowth.

  “Aki!” Petra exclaimed, quickly following, her ankle brace not slowing her down a bit.

  “Where is he?” I asked, not seeing him below the shrubbery.

  “Over there!” Petra dashed to the edge of the island, where Aki appeared, running through the mud after a dragonfly.

  I followed, keeping an eye out for dinosaurs that might not have gotten the message that they shouldn’t be able to swim. Also, big giant pterosaurs. Or aquatic reptiles that might launch themselves onto shore, like killer whales after seals.

  And that’s when the hut with the generator exploded.

  Chapter

  VII

  Nate

  THE GIRL WORE A PITH HELMET OVER SHOULDER-LENGTH BROWN HAIR and was dressed in long khaki pants and a belted safari jacket. A white blouse and tie showed at her neck. She looked like she might be around sixteen or seventeen years old. By the clothes she was wearing, Nate figured she was from around, maybe, the 1920s or earlier. In one gloved hand, she held a Recall Device. In the other, a revolver.

  As the bass boat approached, she raised the gun toward the boys. Silently.

  Brady slowed the boat to idle and they came to a stop about five feet away.

  “Hello,” Brady said, standing and walking to the front as the boat slowly drifted forward.

  “Is either of you named Max or Kyle Pierson?” the girl asked.

  Nate froze. He didn’t recognize the first names, but that was their last name, and since she was holding them at gunpoint, she obviously wasn’t a huge friend of the family. “My name’s Nate. This is Brady. Who’re you?”

  “They killed my father,” the girl replied.

  “They?” Nate asked.

  “Max and Kyle Pierson. I believe their sister may have been involved as well.”

  Brady took in a breath. Nate was dimly aware of his brother stepping forward, which struck him as being a really bad idea if they wanted to get away in a hurry.

  “We don’t know anyone by those names,” Brady told the girl in a soothing tone.

  For a moment, she said nothing, and the revolver wavered. “But you are Piersons, yes? You have the look of both Mad Jack and his son, Samuel.”

  “We don’t know a Mad Jack, either,” Brady replied carefully. “Or his son.”

  The girl sneered. “And yet you’re here. I believe you did not arrive by autobus.”

  “What’s an autobus?” Nate asked. The girl stared, and Br
ady gave Nate a look like he thought Nate was an idiot.

  “We found one of those round things.” Brady nodded at the girl’s hand. “In our garage. We seem to have accidentally set it off and it brought us here.”

  “Where is it now?” she asked.

  Brady gestured vaguely behind them. “We lost it in the lake when we arrived.”

  She was silent, but ever so slightly she shifted the gun toward Brady. As she was about to speak, there was a rustling in the vegetation about fifty feet behind her. Before any of them could react, three shapes burst from between a pair of cypress trees and lunged forward, splashing through the channel. They were about eight feet tall at the hip, ran on two legs, and had small arms and giant heads with a lot of really sharp teeth.

  “Tyrannosaurs!” Brady exclaimed.

  The girl whirled and fired the revolver at the dinosaurs and then launched herself toward the boat, crashing into Brady. At the same time, Nate jumped toward the cockpit and landed in the driver’s seat. Gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg, he quickly put the throttle into reverse.

  The Evinrude outboard roared and shot the boat into the bank of the channel, catching them in a tangle of cypress roots. As Nate struggled to free them, the first of the dinosaurs charged. Brady rolled to the side, and the girl dropped the gun and held up the Recall Device.

  Then she threw.

  An instant later, there was a pulse of light and a booming sound and Nate felt a wave of air pressure on his face.

  When he’d blinked the brightness from his eyes, he saw that the lead dinosaur was gone and the others were fleeing from the sound and light show.

  Then he saw, sitting on the edge of the deck just in front of the passenger seat, the girl’s revolver. Nate lunged for it just as she spotted it. She kicked out, shoving him to the side. He rolled over and grasped at the boat’s deck, knocking the gun into the water. Then his momentum carried him off the edge of the boat.

  With a gasp Nate stood, thigh deep in the water, as Brady and the girl got up, both scrambling to find the revolver.

  “Leave it,” the girl said, standing and straightening her hat. “I used up all the bullets.”

  “Who are you?” Brady demanded.

  “Mildred Campbell is my name,” she answered.

  The channel wasn’t deep, and it was slightly more clear than the lake they’d landed in. It wasn’t long before Nate spotted the gun and pulled it up.

  Opening the cylinder, he saw she’d been telling the truth. All the chambers were empty. Placing the revolver on the edge of the boat, Nate hoisted himself back aboard.

  He limped over to the pilot’s seat. “So, Mildred Campbell, who are you?”

  “Never mind that!” she replied. “Get us out of here!”

  Nate edged the boat forward, intending to go under the fallen tree. “Duck.”

  “Wait,” she said. “Use your Recall Device.”

  Nate stared. “We don’t have a Recall Device.”

  She looked from Nate to his brother. And then back. “You were telling the truth?”

  “Yeah,” Nate answered.

  Mildred crouched to avoid a hanging branch.

  “Why didn’t you use your Recall Device to escape instead of throwing it at the tyrannosaur?” Nate asked.

  “Because,” she answered, “by the time I could have set it to take us anywhere, the tyrannosaur would’ve been atop us. And the Recall Device has mass limits. You truly do not have a Recall Device? And you’re not Max and Kyle?”

  Brady and Nate shook their heads.

  “Why are you after them?” Brady asked.

  As they edged their way under the tree, Mildred explained. “My father used to work with Mad Jack Pierson but became afraid that he was becoming unstable and that leaving a time machine in his hands was dangerous. So my father sought out a person from the future who was important in the development of Mad Jack’s Chronal Engine. A girl named Emma. Or Ella.” Mildred stood back up and sat in the front fishing chair.

  “But what were you doing here?” Nate said.

  She sat ramrod straight, regarding the brothers carefully. “I don’t know where he obtained his information, but my father’s notes indicate that no one used—would be using—the Chronal Engine for nearly a hundred years because the Recall Devices were missing. So I left a Recall Device at the Pierson Ranch barn, where Max and Kyle should’ve found it. It ought to have brought them here to be trapped and killed in the antediluvian past.”

  Brady and Nate exchanged a look.

  “And now you don’t have a way back either?” Brady put in.

  Mildred shook her head. “There may be a way. Mad Jack Pierson kept a cabin here for a while. It’s only a few miles away on the main body of the lake. Perhaps there’s a Recall Device there.”

  Brady shrugged.

  Nate put the throttle up and headed in the direction she pointed.

  Chapter

  VIII

  Max

  THE CONCUSSION THREW PETRA AND ME TO THE GROUND. I rose shakily to my feet, ignoring the scratches from pebbles in the water where I’d fallen. Ahead of me, Petra adjusted her ankle brace and scooped up a stunned Aki.

  “We have to stop the fire before it takes out the cottages,” I said. Already, the roof of the dogtrot was igniting from pieces of burning wood that had been thrown onto it from the explosion.

  “How?” Petra demanded.

  I hesitated. She was right. Buckets would be almost useless, and it wasn’t like there was a fire hydrant or even a hose anywhere nearby.

  “Then we have to save the stuff in the house,” I said. “The tools in the workshop . . . the stuff in the kitchen.”

  “The cans of food,” Petra added.

  There was a cracking sound as the wood frame of the generator hut settled in the fire. More sparks flew up, setting the outhouse alight and landing in the weeds next to the dogtrot.

  “Come on!” I ran into the passageway and then into the workshop. Tossing my backpack over one shoulder, I grabbed tools off the pegboard and shoved them into a toolbox, then slammed it shut. Flinging open cabinet doors, I searched for anything that might be useful, then raced outside and put everything down on the dock.

  I ran back in as Petra was coming out of the kitchen, a bucket filled with knives and utensils in one hand and a box of cans in another. As the fire grew closer, I grabbed a bunch of pots and the kettle from the stove.

  As I made my way out, flames engulfed the roof. Petra dashed into the bedrooms, returning almost immediately with towels and a quilt. We watched, poised at the end of the dock, as the Adirondack chairs in the dogtrot breezeway went up in flames.

  “We have to get off the island,” Petra said. “The whole thing is going to blow.”

  “How?” I demanded, gesturing at the pile of supplies we had taken out of the cottages.

  “The canoe!” we said at the same time.

  We ran around the island, splashing through the shallows. On the other side, the flames had yet to appear. Petra grabbed one end of the canoe and I took the other. We flipped it over; it was heavier than we’d expected. Grabbing the paddles, we dragged the canoe over to the water and launched it just as the flames reached the ginkgo tree next to the cottages.

  I’d never actually seen a wood canoe before. Somewhere between fifteen and twenty feet long, the hull was navy blue and the inside had ribs of a contrasting white wood, lacquered to shine.

  I tossed the paddles onto the crossbars and we waded along the shoreline until we reached the pier. Aki climbed into the front seat and then along the side, until he was perched at the bow, like a fluffy figurehead.

  We gathered the supplies we’d taken from the dogtrot and carefully arranged them in the canoe so that we didn’t puncture a hole in the bottom. Then we hopped aboard—Petra in the back and me in front—and paddled off, toward the closest shore.

  Halfway across, we heard a loud crack, so we turned to watch. Black billows of smoke erupted into the sky.
>
  “Well,” I said, “it’s a pretty good signal fire.”

  Petra laughed. “Lucky for us.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, and then said more loudly, “but we’re going to have to set up camp somewhere nearby. Maybe put up a real signal fire.” That should keep the dinosaurs away. I hoped. “There’s a reason Uncle Nate sent us here. We need to find him.”

  “Okay,” Petra said, looking over at the shoreline closest to us. “How about over there?” She pointed, and we paddled over.

  As I got out and began pulling the canoe up onto the muddy shore, a Triceratops appeared at the edge of the forest.

  The size of an elephant, the dinosaur was a deep brown in color, with flecks of green. Its frill was a colorful red and orange and blue and had a pattern that looked almost like giant eyes. Of its three horns, the left one had been broken off about halfway down.

  Moments later, a second Triceratops appeared. And then a third—smaller than the other two—and a fourth. Two more emerged from the forest, both on the small end of the size scale. Which meant that they were part of a mixed-age, possibly family group, which I would have been a lot more thrilled to have learned about if a hundred tons of dinosaur wasn’t between us and the nearest dry land.

  And then they came toward us.

  Chapter

  IX

  Nate

  AS NATE CONTINUED TO STEER THE BASS BOAT ALONG THE SHORELINE, it began to rain. It was only a brief downpour, and through it all, Mildred sat regally in the forward fishing chair like she owned the thing.

  “Should we be doing this?” Brady murmured from where he stood beside his brother. When Nate raised an eyebrow, Brady explained, his voice low. “Taking her to possibly find this Kyle and Max—or maybe even Mad Jack—and, you know, kill them?”

  “You think she would?” Nate asked, also whispering.

  Brady nodded.

  Nate wiped his glasses on his T-shirt. “You have a better idea?”