The Time Hunters and the Lost City (The Final Chapter in the Time Hunters Saga Book 5)

by carl ashmore

  ‘When is he?’ Uncle Percy asked.

  ‘Therein lies the irony – he’s in precisely the same time period we’ve been discussing – The Old West.’

  ‘So what’s the bad news?’ Uncle Percy asked.

  ‘He’s due to be executed … hanged by the neck at sundown on April 23rd 1869.’

  Joe’s swearing drowned out Becky’s gasps of horror.

  Of the three of them, only Uncle Percy maintained any semblance of calm. ‘Do you know any more?’ he said, his voice firm and steely.

  ‘I’m afraid the Omega Effect prevented me from seeing if the execution will happen or not. Moreover, the most powerful earthquake to ever strike Kansas is due to occur the following day, April 24th 1869. The earthquake triggers a fire that will destroy the town completely, leaving virtually no records of its existence. The town won’t be rebuilt until the following year.’

  ‘So Bruce’s life really is in danger?’

  ‘I would say that, sir. I would most definitely say that…’

  Chapter 18

  The Fitting Room

  ‘Right,’ Uncle Percy said, stern-faced. ‘It looks like we’re going to El Dorado, Kansas. Barbie, what do we know about the men holding Bruce?’

  ‘Quite a bit, sir. And it’s bad news, I’m afraid. In 1869, El Dorado is a small lawless town, completely under the control of a cattle baron named Clint ‘Money’ Calhoun … and from what I can gather he’s a despicable man. He has a gang of thirty or so men that are with him at all times – crooks, thieves and gunfighters - and hang on his every word. Furthermore, he employs them in the most violent fashion to ensure he maintains his position as the number one cattle baron in that part of Kansas.’

  ‘So what’s Bruce done to upset him?’

  ‘Apparently, the story involves a woman.’

  Uncle Percy arched his eyebrows. ‘I might’ve guessed. Go on.’

  ‘Clint Calhoun fell in love with a woman named Mary Clayton – a very kind and decent woman from all accounts. Problem was, she was married to someone else – Doctor Lathrop Clayton. Anyway, Clint Calhoun murdered Doctor Clayton and forced Mary to marry him against her will. He kept her at his ranch, and made her life a living hell. Bruce must’ve found out about this. He broke her out of the estate, gave her money and arranged for her to start a new life in Philadelphia.’

  ‘Good for Bruce,’ Uncle Percy said.

  ‘Indeed, sir. What is bad for Bruce is that Calhoun found out and captured him. Furthermore, he didn’t have access to a portravella, his time machine or even a pagidizor. That’s why GITT has no idea about any of this.’

  ‘Okay,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘And where’s Bruce being kept now?’

  ‘There’s a jail beside the gunsmith’s on El Dorado’s main street. He’s being kept there under constant armed guard until the hanging. I would’ve broken him out myself but the Omega Effect prevented me getting close.’

  ‘Not to worry.’

  Uncle Percy drew a long, deep breath as he considered his options. After a few seconds he nodded as if responding to an unvoiced question and said, ‘Becky, Joe, I’d like you to join me in the Fitting Room at four.’

  ‘The where?’ Becky asked.

  ‘The Fitting Room. It’s on Floor Minus three 3A of my laboratory.’

  ‘And what’s the Fitting Room?’ Joe asked.

  ‘It’s where I keep all the outfits and accessories I use when travelling. If we’re journeying to the Old West we must dress accordingly.’

  ‘We didn’t when we went to Jacobean England,’ Becky said. ‘I thought you said it didn’t matter so much at the moment.’

  ‘It does if we’re travelling to nineteenth century America,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘By then photography was commonplace and I really don’t want a piccie of me in my Bermuda shorts surfacing on the Antiques Roadshow. That really would befuddle the experts...’

  *

  On any other day, Becky and Joe would’ve been excited, both to travel to the American Old West, and for seeing another room in Uncle Percy’s laboratory, a vast complex of forty two rooms, most of which were far beneath the ground. But today was not just any other day. Bruce Westbrook was in trouble and all they could think about was his languishing in a jail cell, alone and anxious, with no notion a rescue effort was being prepared nearly a hundred and fifty years into the future.

  The next few hours passed in a restless haze. They spent time online reading the news until they couldn’t stomach it any longer. Since Drake’s broadcast, chaos had cloaked the globe. Thousands had already died as a result of rioting and it seemed there wasn’t a country across the world unaffected. Even in the confines of Bowen Hall they could hear distant sirens blaring constantly. They Skyped their mum and found her anxious but upbeat, leaving the conversation thankful Auntie Pat’s house was in such a remote part of Ireland to be in any immediate danger.

  They were sitting beside Bowen Lake, silent and brooding, feeding fat chunks of bread to Deidre the Dodo when Joe said, ‘What if Drake wins all of this? What if we can’t stop him? Where will the world be then?’

  Becky threw Deidre another lump of bread and said nothing.

  *

  At four, Becky and Joe entered the Time Room to see Barbie waiting for them inside the Ectolift. Becky felt a shudder of dread. The Ectolift was the strangest contraption in which she had travelled. Fitted with an ultra-booster, it could reach dizzying speeds, and unlike a standard lift would change directions mid-journey, speeding up and down, back to front and side to side all in the same trip.

  ‘This way, if you please,’ Barbie said.

  ‘Are you ultra-boosting the Ectolift, Barbie?’ Joe asked.

  ‘I can if you wish, sir.’

  Joe was about to give a resounding ‘yes’ when Becky cut him dead, ‘No, thanks, Barbie. The slowest speed you’ve got, please.’

  ‘Very well,’ Barbie said.

  Joe frowned as he trailed Becky into the lift, the glass door sealing them all in with a soft swish. ‘Spoil sport,’ he muttered.

  Clutching on to the handrail, Becky’s chest tightened as the Ectolift plunged downward, before stopping, shifting right, and then tumbling downward again.

  Without being ultra-boosted, however, Becky found it a considerably more pleasant experience. The rooms didn’t blur into one, and she could see their interiors clearly – there was a large kitchen, several science laboratories, a small gymnasium, a library, and a series of rooms she recognised as the medical facility. A short while later, the lift came to a standstill and the door opened.

  ‘The Fitting Room,’ Barbie announced.

  As they stepped out, Joe gasped with disbelief.

  Becky couldn’t blame him.

  Golden chandeliers cast light upon thousands of outfits - some quite ordinary looking, others bordering on the ridiculous - which hung from towering brass racks, so tall that ladders were positioned every ten feet to reach the higher rails. There were countless shelves crammed with hats, shoes and accessories from every historical period imaginable.

  At that moment Uncle Percy appeared from behind a rack of leather coats. He wore a linen shirt with a turnover collar and necktie, a mid-thigh length sack coat, and a bowler hat. ‘Ah, Becky, Joe, your timing is impeccable.’

  ‘You don’t look much like a cowboy?’ Joe said.

  ‘Not everyone in the Old West worked with cows, Joe. For today, I’m posing as a railway man.’

  ‘Just how many costumes do you have?’ Becky asked.

  ‘Somewhere in the region of twenty thousand outfits, I think, made from every fabric known to man and dating back many thousands of years. Everything is utterly authentic for its time. Of course, I’ve had more outfits made since the two of you became time travellers.’

  ‘But why so many?’

  ‘Well, as I’ve told you before, it’s the traveller’s duty to fit in wherever and whenever they are, and wearing appropriate clothing is a key element in facilitating that. As for the quant
ity of outfits – well, modern humans have been wearing some kind of clothing for over a hundred and seventy thousand years. Even all of these outfits combined are merely a drop in the ocean compared to the sheer number of garments mankind has fashioned over the millennia.’

  ‘I thought cavemen all ran around starkers?’ Joe said. He made a strange waving gesture around his midriff. ‘Except for maybe a loin cloth covering their bits.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Don’t get me wrong, they weren’t exactly wearing Henry Poole dinner suits and Chanel evening gowns, but there was some level of sophistication to their tailoring methods. For instance, an eyed needle made from bone dating back sixty one thousand years was found in the Sibudu Cave in South Africa in the nineteen eighties. And between you and me I’ve witnessed first-hand rudimentary needlepoint in Bahrain dating back seventy two thousand years. Now doesn’t that show you what a remarkable species we are?’

  ‘I s’pose,’ Joe said, clearly uninterested.

  ‘I can’t see there’s any suppose about it. In fact, in my opinion our embracement of clothing, our utilisation of stone tools, teamwork and our controlled use of fire helped us become the dominant species of the planet.’

  ‘So where are our cozzies?’ Joe asked.

  Uncle Percy turned and approached a clothes rack, removing two outfits and passing them over. ‘Here you go.’

  Becky took hers. Looking at it, she was relieved to see a white blouse with a pleated front, walnut brown canvas trousers and a suede jacket. Judging by some of the outlandish clothing all around her, it could certainly have been much worse.

  Joe didn’t even look at his outfit. ‘Where’s my gun?’

  ‘No guns,’ Uncle Percy replied to Joe’s visible disappointment. ‘I’m hoping to retrieve Bruce with no violence, whatsoever.’

  Joe snorted. ‘You always say that and there always is. Besides, Barbie said there were over thirty bad guys and you can bet they’ll be tooled up. I mean, it’s called the Wild West … not the Mild West.’

  ‘That’s as may be, but I intend to make them an offer to keep those guns firmly tucked in their holsters.’

  ‘What kind of offer?’

  Uncle Percy delved into his inside coat pocket and withdrew a shimmering rectangular block.

  Becky had never seen a gold bar before. ‘Is that real?’ she gasped.

  ‘It is,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Now if Clint Calhoun is as interested in money as his nickname suggests, this should dull any feelings of malice he might harbour for Bruce.’

  ‘But what if he’s interested in violence, too?’ Joe said. ‘That’s when we might need those guns.’

  ‘In that case we’ll have Kenneth.’

  Becky looked surprised. ‘Is he coming with us?’

  Uncle Percy leaned back and said, ‘Kenneth. Would you stop admiring yourself in that mirror and come here, please?’

  From their right they heard a series of heavy footsteps, quickly followed by Kenneth’s voice. ‘Coming!’

  A moment later, a small figure pushed through an assortment of Second World War naval uniforms and walked into the light.

  ‘Howdy, partners …’ Kenneth said. He was wearing a pair of snakeskin boots, leather chaps, and a poncho, his face swathed in a long piece of cloth so only his eyes were visible. He held a wide Sombrero hat in his gloved hands, which he placed on his head and tilted slightly to the left.

  Joe doubled over. ‘It’s Wall:E the Kid.’

  ‘Do you like it?’ Kenneth said gleefully. ‘I think I really look the part.’

  ‘You look ace, Kenny boy,’ Joe said. ‘Just ace.’

  Becky’s laughter faded, when something occurred to her. ‘Are you sure he should be coming with us?’ she said to Uncle Percy. ‘I mean, he’s covered up and everything but he’s still a robot. What if somehow he loses his disguise and someone sees him? Worse still, what if someone takes his photograph?’

  Uncle Percy sighed. ‘You’re right, of course, and it is certainly a risk. However, Joe does make a very salient point.’

  ‘What point?’

  ‘Apparently, Clint Calhoun has a gang of criminals and thugs at his disposal, and if things do get somewhat testing – well, Kenneth may be the only chance we’ve got. There may be thirty or so of them, but trust me –’ He paused. ‘- Kenneth is a one man army...’

  Chapter 19

  The Good, the Bad and the Kenneth

  In no time at all, Becky and Joe had changed into their costumes and were standing on the viewing platform in the Time Room, watching Uncle Percy key a numerical code into a workstation.

  To Becky’s embarrassment, Kenneth was just below them on the ground floor, parading in front of Barbie like a desperate penguin trying to attract a mate.

  ‘What do you think, Miss Barbie?’ Kenneth said. ‘Do you think I look the part? I think I look - ’

  ‘ - Ridiculous,’ Barbie interjected.

  ‘Ridiculous in a cute way?’ Kenneth suggested hopefully.

  ‘In a way that makes me want to deactivate my own eyes.’ Barbie stared up at Uncle Percy and raised her voice snootily. ‘Sir, I really do think the mission would stand a higher chance of success if you took me.’

  ‘But I need you here, Barbie,’ Uncle Percy shouted down. ‘Just in case we hear from the GITT committee or any of the travellers searching for the Sacred Chalice.’

  Barbie puffed loudly.

  Becky thought it best to change the topic. ‘So we’re not travelling by portravella this time?’

  ‘No. I think it’s best we take a time machine,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘You never know when we’ll need to make a quick getaway.’

  ‘Then is there any chance we can -’

  Before Becky had chance to finish, a rumbling sound echoed from below. Kenneth and Barbie took to the air, hovering about a foot off the ground, as the floor separated in the middle and retracted slowly into the wall.

  Becky raced over to the bannister and peered down. A white roof rose from the lower levels, spiralling slowly on a revolving platform. Moments later, the platform came to a standstill, revealing a green and white Volkswagen campervan.

  ‘Now what were you going to ask me, Becky?’

  ‘If we could take Bertha,’ Becky replied. ‘But it seems you read my mind.’

  Broad smiles covering their faces, Becky and Joe raced down the stairs to get a closer look at the campervan, which gleamed as bright as a moon.

  As Becky stood before Bertha, a wave of emotion swept over her. Bertha had been the first time machine she had knowingly seen, and so much had happened, both good and tremendously bad, since that first encounter. A tear lodged in her eye.

  Joe noticed. ‘Are you alright?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Course.’

  ‘Good. Coz I’d hate to think you were blartin’ over a hunk of metal.’

  ‘Get stuffed.’

  Becky watched Uncle Percy insert a slab of Gerathnium into Bertha’s rear slot. Then he opened the side doors. ‘Kenneth, after you.’

  Kenneth swooped into the back of the van.

  Uncle Percy nodded at Becky and Joe. ‘Come on, you two.’

  Becky and Joe clambered in.

  Uncle Percy approached Barbie. ‘Now, my dear, if you could just keep an eye on the place while we’re gone. We’ll be back soon with a certain Mister Bruce Westbrook, I have no doubts about that. I also have two pagidizors with me so keep all channels open and I’ll be in touch if necessary. However, I’m sure we’ll be fine.’

  Barbie bowed. ‘Be safe, sir.’

  Becky settled onto the rear seat and watched Uncle Percy type six digits into the chronalometer. Almost immediately, a grumbling sound echoed from beneath and streams of misty light surged out of the control panel.

  Moments later, they were staring at a very different landscape altogether.

  Wide stretches of fields painted a blazing yellow by countless sunflowers extended into th
e distance, merging seamlessly into a navy blue sky speckled by soft puffs of cloud.

  Although the view was breath-taking, it was clear Uncle Percy was in no mood for taking in the sights. ‘Right everyone … out.’

  ‘Are we leaving Bertha here?’ Becky asked.

  ‘We are,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘The Alto Radar shows the only animals within a mile radius are a small herd of mule deer, so I don’t think they’ll pose any immediate threat to Bertha’s anonymity. Now shall we get going?’

  Everyone clambered out.

  Uncle Percy pressed the Invisiblator button on his key fob before turning on his back heel and walking south. Bertha vanished. ‘This way,’ he said, gesturing for the others to join him.

  As she walked, Becky found herself ever more anxious. She knew Uncle Percy would do everything to keep them from harm’s way but even he had no idea as to what awaited them in El Dorado.

  The path they followed was well worn and muddy, patterned by horse tracks and deep puddles from a recent storm. For over ten minutes no one said a word, their mood growing more sombre with each step. As they reached the top of a hillock they stopped in line and looked down upon a small town situated on the western bank of a fast flowing river.

  Uncle Percy’s eyes found Joe. ‘Now, young man, as we all know it’s possible things could get somewhat testing in El Dorado, and if that is the case I’m aware you’ll be keen to practise your combat skills. I ask you to resist those urges.’

  ‘Sure. No sweat.’

  Joe couldn’t have sounded less sincere if he’d tried.

  ‘I’m not joking, Joe,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘If things do get intense then – well, that’s why we’ve brought Kenneth. I want you to keep your head down … even if that means hiding until it’s safe.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Joe smirked. ‘We’ll hide. Won’t we, Becks?’

  Unlike Joe, Becky was quite amenable to the idea. ‘I have no problems whatsoever with hiding.’

  ‘And neither do I, Becky.’ Uncle Percy looked again at Joe. ‘You should listen to your sister.’ Then he inhaled deeply and said, ‘Right … Let’s see what Mister Clint Calhoun makes of our very generous offer...’