Time Trapped

by Richard Ungar

  Judith recites,

  “Swallowed up whole

  by the chicken fingers of desire.”

  That about sums it up.

  “What happened here?” I ask Abbie.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” she says. “It was someone from your group who must have made that hole.”

  “With what? Her hands?”

  Razor is snickering beside me. She knows something.

  I glare at her. “Spill it.”

  “All right. Don’t get all hot and bothered,” Razor says. “I’m as surprised as you are. I never thought he could pull it off.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Dim. I guess I’ll have to find a new nickname for him now, since he’s not dim at all. In fact, I think he’s a genius.”

  “What did Dmitri do?” I ask.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Razor says. “There used to be a big tree in that hole. It’s not there anymore. And neither is Dim. Two plus two, Jack. C’mon.”

  If she’s saying what I think she is, that’s impossible. No one can move something that big through time.

  “Where?” I ask.

  “Pay me first,” Razor says.

  Abbie turns to me and says, “What is she talking about?”

  “Have you got ten bucks on you, Abbie? I’ll pay you back. Promise.”

  Abbie glares at me. “You’ve got some serious explaining to do, mister.” But she digs into her pocket and hands me a ten. I fork it over to Razor.

  She stares at the watermark on the bill for a moment and then sniffs it. This is maddening.

  “Okay. Now where and when did he go with the tree?” I ask her again.

  “Times Square, 8:15 A.M., October 5, 2061.”

  “How? No, forget how. Why?” I ask.

  “That was our bet. Frankly, I didn’t think he could do it. That tree must weigh a ton.”

  My cheeks are burning. Even if he could move it, I don’t see how the tree could have ended up at Times Square. The default on the wristbands was the Compound courtyard. Unless he did something to the wristband . . .

  Abbie turns to me. “You’d better go find him, Cale, and when you do, the snatch will still have to be completed.” Her voice is controlled, but I can hear the tension behind her words. This mission is going from bad to worse, and when the punishment comes down, Abbie and I are likely to get the brunt of it.

  “Do you mean no one snatched leaves from the tree yet?” I ask.

  “Gerhard wouldn’t do it,” says Abbie. “He’s afraid of heights. Judith said she wanted to stretch first. When she was finally ready, that’s when the rumbling started.”

  This is turning into a bad day.

  I tap in the sequence for Times Square. Dmitri’s got a lot of explaining to do.

  Just as I start to fade away, a hand grips my wrist.

  “Razor! What are you—”

  “I’m coming with you. I got to see the proof before I pay him.”

  There must be enough of me still visible, because she says, “Turn that frown upside down, Jack. This is gonna be fun!”

  I don’t say anything. Fun is keeping my remaining fingers and toes. Fun is staying out of Uncle’s office. Fun is anything but what I’m about to do.

  October 5, 2061, 8:17 A.M.

  Times Square

  New Beijing (formerly New York City)

  Operation High Tea

  We land in a doorway on Forty-third Street. Our arrival doesn’t draw any attention, because everyone else is looking at the towering tree that seems to have grown right out of the pavement next to the sleek new Mandarin Oriental hotel.

  “It looks good there,” Razor says as soon as she comes out of her time freeze.

  I have to agree with her. I’m no landscape designer. But the tree does improve the look of the place . . . humanizes it somehow.

  “Do you see him?” I ask Razor.

  “Not yet,” she says. “But look, there’s a cute little monkey!”

  I follow where she’s pointing and see it. About a third of the way up the tree. If I read its facial expression correctly, that monkey is terrified.

  “We’ve got to get it back to China,” I say.

  “Just stick it in the zoo,” she says.

  “I’m talking about the tree.”

  The next moment, I see Dmitri. He’s standing near the foot of the tree. About twenty feet away from him, a police officer is cordoning off the area with yellow police tape. Other officers are removing people who are inside the cordoned-off area.

  “C’mon,” I say, ducking under the tape and breaking into a run.

  Razor makes it to Dmitri first and claps him on the back. “Nice job, Dim. You win the bet. Here.” She forks over the ten that I gave her in China.

  “Ha! You did not believe I could extricate and temporarily relocate it.”

  “That’s true,” Razor admits. “But I’m a believer now.”

  “We’ve got to get that tree out of here,” I say, my voice raspy.

  “Wait,” Razor says. “We gotta do the snatch first.”

  “I don’t think that’s a—”

  Before I can finish the sentence, Razor begins to moan and swoon.

  A policeman rushes over right as she falls to the ground. At the same time, Dmitri slips under the police tape and begins running toward the entrance to the Mandarin Oriental. I start after him but give up when I realize I won’t be able to stop him.

  By now, a small crowd has gathered around Razor.

  “Father, is that you?” Razor says, in a sweet and helpless voice that I can hardly believe is coming from the same person.

  “I’m not your father, son,” answers the policeman. Then he turns to the crowd. “Is anyone here related to this boy?”

  That’s my cue to step forward. It’s tempting to just hang back for a few seconds and see if anyone else wants her, but I suppose that would be cruel. Cruel or not, she owes me.

  Instead I sigh and yell over the crowd, “Hey, Ray! Dad and I have been looking everywhere for you.”

  There’s not a great deal of physical resemblance between us. Razor is black-haired and has gray eyes. I, on the other hand, have mousy brown hair and brown eyes. But this is New York—correction, New Beijing, 2061. Families come in all shapes and sizes.

  “Are you his brother?” the officer on the scene shouts back.

  No, I want to say. I’m just the guy who kidnapped her to avoid being sent to the Barrens again, which is not such a bad place if you like scorpions, snakes, intense heat and dying of thirst. But having known her for a day, I’m already wondering whether I should have just volunteered straight away to return to the Barrens instead.

  “Yeah,” I yell.

  “Let him through, people,” he says, and I smile gratefully.

  “Does he have a medical condition?” he asks me, nodding toward Razor, and without skipping a beat, I say, “Paininassosis.”

  I say it real fast so that it sounds like a true condition. Who knows, maybe in some country of the world it’s a real disease.

  “Don’t worry,” I say in a loud voice. “So long as no one breathes his air, they probably won’t catch it.”

  With that, except for a few die-hard gawkers, the rest of the crowd backs up in a hurry. Even the police officer takes two steps back.

  Some movement near the top of the tree catches my attention.

  There’s a person leaning out a window on the eighth floor of the Mandarin Oriental, reaching toward the branches of the tree. Dmitri!

  Razor moans again.

  “Thank you, Officer, I can take it from here,” I say. “He’s just having one of his spells. They only last a few minutes and then he’s as good as new. But it’s important that I get him to a shady spot quickly. Can you let us go
under that tree for a few minutes so he can rest?”

  He looks around and then back at us. Indecision is written all over his face.

  “I’m not supposed to . . . No one’s supposed to go near the tree . . .”

  Razor writhes in agony.

  “Oh, trust me, we won’t touch it,” I say, reassuring him. “It’s only for the shade.”

  “Well, okay. But only for a couple of minutes.”

  “Thank you so much, Officer . . . Germanakos,” I say, reading the name off his badge.

  He helps me get Razor to her feet, then steps away and resumes his position near the police tape.

  “Nice work, Jack. Especially that bit about my medical condition.” She makes as if she’s going to faint again and then laughs.

  If I wasn’t so worried about the punishment that is bound to come down on us because of this botched mission, I might laugh with Razor. But all I can think about are the bad things that will happen once Uncle finds out how a simple training run turned into major headlines. Maybe we’ll get a reprieve because it’s the first training mission . . . but I’m not counting on it.

  “I have them!” Dmitri shouts, running up to us. Breathless, he loosens the drawstrings of a small pouch and plucks out some green leaves.

  “All right,” I say. “Now, the next thing is to take the tree back.”

  Dmitri shrugs. “It is quite possible. But I will first have to reconfigure the wristbands for the return trip. That will take between three and seven minutes.”

  Reconfigure? Uncle is going to reconfigure his teeth and probably mine too, if he doesn’t get this tree back to where it belongs, pronto.

  “Look, we can’t wait that long. We’ve got to go right now,” I say. “We’ll use my patch.”

  As soon as I say it, though, I realize I have no idea how we’re going to do it. It’s one thing to timeleap holding someone else’s hand or wrist. But it’s quite another to bring a whole tree through time. What if it lands on us by accident? Or doesn’t come at all?

  “No need to,” says Dmitri. “I’ve managed to shorten the prep time considerably, and I’m just . . . about . . . finished.”

  I take a look around. I wouldn’t say the tree looks at home standing in the middle of Times Square, but in the short time it’s been here, entire industries have already sprung up around it. One guy is selling T-shirts showing a huge apple falling from the tree with the caption BIG TREE IN THE BIG APPLE. Another guy is selling Big Tree toothpicks, and yet another, maple sugar from the Big Tree, which is quite a trick, since it’s not a maple tree at all.

  A couple of cops are walking briskly toward us. I guess they didn’t speak to Officer Germanakos. Or maybe they did, and they’ve already had their shots for paininassosis, so they’re not afraid of catching it.

  “Do it, Dmitri!” I shout.

  “I can’t,” he says. “I need to be touching the tree.”

  “You there!” shouts one of the officers. “Stand away from that tree.”

  “Grab the tree, Dmitri!” I shriek.

  Dmitri glances from me to the police officers and then makes a beeline for the tree.

  Razor and I race after him.

  The officers sprint after us.

  The last thing I hear before I leave 2061 is Razor’s husky voice.

  “See you, suckers!”

  September 3, 1311, 11:14 A.M.

  Yunnan province, China

  Operation High Tea

  We land in the forest. The good news is that the tree has arrived with us. The bad news is that it’s having trouble staying upright. And the really bad news is that I seem to have landed in its path.

  “Timber!” yells Razor.

  I roll away just as the ground around me shudders.

  There’s a thundering sound, followed by the squawking of a hundred angry birds.

  Then the forest is quiet. Serene even.

  And amazingly, I’m still alive.

  I stand up slowly. Then move my arms and my legs. Everything’s working.

  “Nice scramble, Jack,” says Razor. “That was a bet I didn’t mind losing.”

  A moment later, it registers.

  “You mean you bet on me dying?”

  She looks at me with wide eyes. “What do you take me for? I’d never do that. I only bet how far away you’d be when the big guy fell. Dim said three feet, but I didn’t know how quick you really are, so I said two.”

  I’m totally drained. I’ve got to get away from Razor and Dmitri. But first I need to get them back to the Compound.

  I reach out my hands to them. Razor grabs one hand, but Dmitri waves me off.

  “I can navigate fairly well on my own, thank you,” he says.

  I sigh. I have no energy to fight with him. But if he doesn’t turn up at the Compound, I’ll be the one who takes the blame.

  “Please, Dmitri. I know you don’t need my help. But humor me, will you?”

  Razor has let go of my wrist and is standing slightly behind and to the left of Dmitri. She’s whispering something in his ear.

  “I will go with you if I can retain both time bands,” says Dmitri.

  I have absolutely no authority to bargain with him. The wristbands are Timeless Treasures property, which means they belong to Uncle. And something tells me he wouldn’t take kindly to one of his recruits stockpiling them.

  On the other hand, I’ve got to cut some kind of deal with Dmitri—or risk him making a scene when we arrive back. And that’s just about the last thing I want.

  “I might be able to arrange it, but it’s going to take a little time,” I say.

  Dmitri smiles and extends his wrist. Before he changes his mind, I grab it and then press my own.

  Right before we leap, I take a deep breath and look up at the sky. Thunderclouds are moving in. I hope it’s not an omen about how the rest of my day is going to go.

  October 5, 2061, 8:46 A.M.

  Timeless Treasures Headquarters

  Tribeca, New Beijing (formerly New York City)

  Get up, Cale. He wants to see you right after you turn in the snatch object.” Abbie is standing over me in the alley next to Headquarters with a serious expression on her face.

  “I can’t move. Still time frozen,” I say. “In fact, please send my regrets. It’s a bad case of time freeze. I don’t see it clearing anytime soon.”

  “This isn’t a joke,” she says. “Frank doesn’t like it when he has to wait.”

  Did she say Frank? I begin to breathe a sigh of relief until it hits me that Frank could be worse than Uncle.

  “All right. Where does he want us to meet him?”

  “Not us. You. In his office,” she says. “Right after you hand in the tea leaves to Luca. I can take Razor and Dmitri back with me to the Compound.”

  I nod and stand up slowly. “Any idea what it’s about?”

  “No,” Abbie says.

  I cross over to where Razor and Dmitri sit slouched against the brick wall. I hold out my hand and Dmitri gives me the pouch with the leaves.

  “See you at lunch,” I say and begin climbing the fire escape stairs.

  Luca is sitting behind his desk, eyes fixed on his screen. When I rap on the open door to get his attention, it feels like something is missing. And then I realize what it is. Nassim’s surprise attacks. I never thought I’d miss being strangled, but there it is.

  The screen above him flashes on, and there’s Phoebe’s yoga instructor persona dressed in a black leotard, her body folded backward at an impossible angle. It hurts me just to look at her.

  “Here they are,” I say, handing over the pouch.

  He takes it, looks inside and waves me away. Wow, that was easy. I turn to go.

  “Not so fast,” says the voice from the screen.

  Darn.

  “Yo
u’ve got to make sure they are the real thing, Lucas,” says Phoebe.

  Luca glares at the screen, which tells me he doesn’t appreciate Phoebe bossing him around, let alone getting his name wrong. Then he dips two fingers into the pouch and withdraws a single leaf. He’s about to touch it with the tip of his tongue when Phoebe squawks.

  “Don’t you dare! What if he’s trying to poison you? Make him try it first.”

  I sigh. I always wondered what Phoebe does in her spare time, and now I know. She watches bad murder mysteries.

  I grab the leaf from Luca and lick it. It tastes bitter. I try not to make a face.

  “See? Still alive,” I say.

  Phoebe frowns, but only for a moment. Then her yoga instructor face morphs into a sea of tranquility. “Get him to spill ’em all out,” she tells Luca.

  Luca shrugs and I pour the contents of the bag onto his desk. Phoebe makes as if she’s studying them and then finishes off by scratching her head with her big toe. “They’re all wrinkled,” she says finally.

  “They’re supposed to be wrinkled,” I say. I try to keep my voice from rising, but it’s impossible. Phoebe is being difficult.

  “Tell him to go back and get fresh ones,” she instructs Luca, finally unfolding and assuming the Cherokee warrior pose.

  “That’s ridicu— I can’t go back,” I say. “Frank wants to see me right away.”

  Luca looks undecided. Well, I’ll decide for him. I get up to go.

  “I’ll have to tell Uncle about the wrinkles,” he says.

  “Fine,” I say over my shoulder. I half expect him to jump up and block me from leaving, but he doesn’t.

  “Tuck your shirt in,” yells Phoebe, mistress of the last word.

  I walk down the hall to Frank’s office. The door is open, and Frank is seated behind a large desk with a glass tabletop, gazing at his screen. The walls are bare except for a photograph of Frank presenting the first flag of the Great Friendship to a smiling Uncle. It irks me every time I see that, because Frank poached my snatch to get that flag.

  I stand at the entrance, waiting for him to notice me. After what seems like forever, he looks up and says, “The morning news. Have you seen it?”