Time Snatchers

by Richard Ungar

  “Let’s go, Zach,” I say. I get up slowly and step shakily onto the platform. The close call with Frank has sapped all of my energy.

  “That was a gas!” says Zach. “Did you like it, Caylid? I can’t wait to tell Daddy.”

  I smile and watch him run ahead down the exit ramp, one small fist pounding the top of the wooden railing.

  But then, to my horror, I see Frank. He’s lying in wait in the doorway of the small ticket booth just beyond the end of the ramp.

  “No! You can’t have him!” I shout into Frank’s head.

  “Dreamers dream, Caleb …,” he says over my mindpatch.

  Zach is within a stride of Frank’s position. Before I can say or do anything, Frank’s hand lashes out and yanks Zach’s wrist, pulling him inside the ticket booth.

  “And snatchers snatch!” he finishes.

  I sprint down the ramp.

  Jim must have also seen it happen because he’s racing toward the ticket booth, a look of shock and disbelief on his face.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Abbie making a beeline for the booth.

  Jim and I arrive first. Adrenaline surges through me as I fling open the door to the ticket booth.

  But there’s no one inside.

  I’m too late.

  July 8, 1967, 9:19 P.M.

  Expo 67

  La Ronde, Montreal, Canada

  Jim is on his knees frantically sweeping his hands over the wood floor of the ticket booth. I know what he’s doing—looking for a trapdoor or an escape hatch of some sort. Because that’s the only way his rational mind could explain what has happened.

  “Where?” he asks. “How?”

  Diane is at his side now, screaming, “Zach!”

  Hearing Diane’s screams, I feel as helpless as a swimmer caught in a strong undertow: no matter how hard I try to break free, the current pulls at me, sucking me down deeper and deeper.

  “C’mon, Cale, we’ve got to get out of here,” Abbie says, tugging at my arm. “We can still save him. Plan B, remember?”

  I want to listen to her, but how can I leave Jim and Diane like this?

  They’re both looking at me with questions in their eyes. I can’t bear to look at them because I have no answers. Or at least none that they would believe.

  Just then, something inside of me shifts. My feeling of helplessness of only a moment ago is changing, morphing into something hard and strong.

  “I’m going to find Zach and bring him back,” I say. Then I turn to follow Abbie.

  “There’s nothing else we could have done,” she says once we’re out of earshot of Jim and Diane. “If somehow we managed to keep him from being snatched from the ticket booth, Frank would have found another way.”

  “I’m going to undo it,” I say. “I’m going to go back again. But this time, I’m not going to let him run ahead of me down that ramp.”

  “Go ahead,” she says. “And as soon as you do that, Frank will go back a third time and snatch Zach before he even gets on the ride. What will you do then?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. Then something occurs to me. “Hey, if you erased Frank’s memory, doesn’t that mean he won’t go back again?”

  “I tried to erase his memory yesterday. But the Frank who’s here, the one who leaped right from the roller coaster to the ticket booth, is probably a Frank from June, when you first saw Zach here. And he didn’t get the quarter memory wipe pill.”

  Only part of my brain is registering what she’s saying. “We can’t just give up,” I say.

  “I’m not saying give up. I’m saying we do it another way.”

  I take a deep breath to calm myself. “I guess you’re right. We still have Plan B.”

  I review Plan B in my mind. It sounds simple enough: prance right into the Compound, locate Zach and escape with him. Once we get him to 1967, he’ll be safe because apart from me and Abbie no one else knows where he lives and there will be no record of our escape timeleap or of any other trips I’ve made to his home. All of that assumes no complications in rescuing him. And, right off the bat, I can think of at least two: their names are Uncle and Frank.

  “That’s the spirit,” says Abbie, entering a sequence in her wrist. “All aboard for the Compound,” she holds out her hand, and I take it. Her grip is strong and sure.

  We’re coming, Zach, I think just as the timeleap kicks in. Coming to bring you home.

  July 11, 2061, 8:38 A.M.

  The Compound

  SoHo, New Beijing (formerly New York City)

  I fend off the blow in the nick of time. But just as I do, there’s another one heading right for my shoulder. With a battle cry, I step nimbly to the left and the projectile misses me by inches. I spring back to position and ready myself for the next attack.

  “Easy does it, Cale,” Abbie says. “You’ve done a good job beating up the sports equipment.”

  Looking down, I’m still breathing hard. Basketballs lie scattered on the floor. Two hockey sticks swing wildly from hooks on the low ceiling. We’re in a storage room.

  I open the door a crack and take a peek. This is the Compound, all right. I’ve got a clear view of the Yard. There must be close to fifty recruits out on the floor, about twice as many as when I was here the last time. They’re divided into three groups: the first group is lifting wallets from mannequins, another is practicing elbow thrusts and roundhouse kicks, and the recruits in the final group are seated cross-legged in a corner listening to a lecture from one of the instructors.

  I close the door and feel a pang of guilt. My reason for coming here is to rescue Zach. But what about all of the others? Who is going to save them?

  “Did you spot him?” Abbie whispers.

  “No, but I couldn’t see all the faces.”

  She takes a deep breath, and I do the same.

  “Abbie, thanks for … doing this,” I say.

  “I wouldn’t do it for anyone else,” she says, shifting toward me. It’s close quarters in the storage room as it is, and we’re almost touching. Suddenly, I’m feeling very warm.

  “All right,” I say trying my best to ignore my quickening pulse. “We split up just like we talked about. I’ll check the boys’ dorm and the cafeteria on the second floor, and you look for Zach in the Yard.”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” says Abbie. “Let’s trade. I’ll do the second floor … I always wanted to see how the other half lives.”

  I’m about to say that we should stick to the original plan and that it’s too late to make changes. But there’s no use arguing with Abbie.

  “Okay,” I say. “But the rest is just like we planned: the first one to see him mindlinks the other. And then we meet back here to make our escape. Got it?”

  “Got it,” she says, leaning even closer to me.

  “What are you—” I begin to say, but I’m cut off as her lips connect with mine.

  “And … got you!” she says, smiling. “Danger makes you even cuter than usual.”

  She kissed me! On the lips! I’m feeling as light as a feather. If I jump up, I’m sure that I’ll be able to fly. And then I’ll soar over the Yard until I spot Zach. When I do, I’ll swoop down and just in the nick of time—

  “Earth to Caleb.”

  She kissed me!

  “Hello. Calling all time snatchers,” says Abbie.

  “What?” I say.

  “We’d better get started,” she says.

  “Uhh. Right,” I say.

  Abbie opens the door a crack.

  “Wait,” I say.

  She turns to face me.

  “If something happens—” I begin.

  Abbie cuts me off. “Don’t worry. We talked about that, remember? I know exactly what to do.”

  “Say it.”

  “Cale, we’re wasting time …”

  “I need you to say it out loud.” My voice cracks but I’m way beyond being embarrassed about it.

  I look at her. I mean really look at her. As in memorizing her
face. It’s crazy, but I’ve got a feeling in my gut that I may never see Abbie again.

  She sighs. “All right. We each have ten minutes to find him. If we don’t mindlink each other at the end of the ten minutes or if one of us mindlinks the other and there’s no answer, that means something has gone wrong. If that happens then I am not to wait for you. I’m to timeleap straight to the park right across from fifty-five Derne Street, Boston, on July 15, 1967. And you’ll meet me there.”

  “Good.”

  “Not really,” says Abbie. “We both know I’m the only bus around here that’s willing to offer you a ride. If something bad happens and I have to bail, I still don’t see how you’re going to make it to our rendezvous spot.”

  “I’ll be there,” I say. This time my voice sounds strong and confident, which is a good thing because I have absolutely no idea how I’m going to get to the past without Abbie. But there’s no way I’m backing down on this part of the plan and she knows it. I’ve already put her in enough danger. I need to know that if I get caught … or worse … she’ll be safe.

  We lock eyes. Then she says, “I’m going now. Count to ten and follow me out.”

  She slips out the door and is gone.

  I run a finger across my lips, the lips that Abbie kissed, and start counting.

  When I get to ten, I step out from the storage room, keeping my movements relaxed and natural. As if I have every right to be here. I scan the Yard quickly—good, no sign of Frank.

  I saunter over to the nearest group of recruits. They’re standing near a mannequin. It’s rigged with bells that go off if the recruits make too much contact—a standard pickpocketing drill. As I walk down the line, glancing at their faces, a few of the recruits look my way, but no one seems bothered by my presence. When I get to the end of the line, it’s clear that Zach isn’t in this group.

  The next group is listening to an instructor drone on and on about the art of blending in with your surroundings while on a mission. From what I can see, he’s already lost most of his audience, who are either fidgeting, staring off into space, whispering among themselves or all of the above. Personally I think lecture-style learning is the wrong approach with five- and six-year-olds. If it was me, I’d use a lot of props or even take them on a field trip to show them my point.

  Moving through the back of the crowd, I’m on the lookout for a shock of red hair. There are a couple of redheads near the front who are about the right height, but I can’t see their faces. I keep my eyes glued on them, and after a minute, I catch a glimpse of one profile. Definitely not Zach.

  That leaves one more. The only thing to do is to get to the front and see his face. That will definitely attract attention. I don’t have much of a choice, though.

  “Excuse me,” I say, squeezing my way forward. I’m almost there when I feel fingers dig into my shoulder like talons. I whirl around.

  “Well, well, this is quite a surprise,” says Frank, not letting go.

  A thousand emotions flood through me: hatred, anger, frustration and a desire to hurt. But the only way I’m going to be able to rescue Zach is if I can stay calm. So I keep my face expressionless and look him straight in the eye.

  “Hello, Frank,” I say, lifting his hand from my shoulder. “I’m glad you found me. I was looking for you.”

  For an instant, the glint vanishes from Frank’s eye and his smile slackens a bit. But the next moment, he’s smiling as broadly as ever.

  “You are just about the last person I would expect to see here,” he says. “Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere else? Somewhere very … barren?”

  Listening to him, I’m wondering if the quarter memory pill that Abbie slipped into his drink worked. Did he remember on his own that I was in the Barrens? Maybe, but it’s still possible that he had forgotten and then someone else, either Nassim or Uncle, reminded him.

  “Uncle pulled me out. I’m on special leave,” I lie.

  “Leave?” echoes Frank. “Is that something like ‘leave my girlfriend alone’? You should know that Abbie and I have gotten quite close while you were away.”

  He’s baiting me. So that I’ll do something stupid like try to hit him. Instead, I put all my strength into my eyes and glare back.

  “What are you really up to?” he asks. “You have no business here.”

  “In fact, I do,” I say.

  The whole Yard has gone suddenly quiet. Everyone has turned to watch the showdown between us, including the redheaded boy in the front row for the blending-in lecture. I glance away from Frank for a split second to try to get a look at the boy’s face. It could be Zach. But I’m not sure.

  “Well, I’m all ears,” says Frank, touching his right earlobe. The bandage is gone, and so is the top half of his ear. It’s not a pretty sight, and I think that’s why Frank wants me to look.

  “In fact, I’m sure that all of us,” he says, making a sweeping gesture to the recruits and instructors, “would be very interested in hearing your reason for being here.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boy who may be Zach edging closer to us.

  Frank’s waiting for my answer. I feel the stares of all the trainees.

  “Uncle’s asked me to escort one of the new recruits to him,” I say.

  Frank bristles slightly, but it’s impossible to tell if he actually believes me.

  “Which one?” he asks.

  “His name is Zach Rushton.”

  I can feel my stomach churning. I stare into Frank’s eyes, alert to any change at all, any sign of recognition. But there isn’t any. So far so good. But that’s still not proof that the partial memory wipe worked. It could be that Frank only knows Zach by sight and not by name.

  “Do you really expect me to hand a new recruit over to you just like that? That wouldn’t be very responsible of me, would it? Putting him in the care of an escaped felon?” he chuckles.

  “The boy was not supposed to have been snatched, Frank,” I say, keeping my voice even. “Do you remember Uncle telling us about the river of time and how most times a little snatch or two might change a few lives but isn’t going to alter the course of history in a major way?”

  “Your point?” says Frank, the smile gone from his lips.

  “Uncle also said that every once in a while, a person is born who during his or her life plays an important role in the history of the world,” I say. “If you take that person out of the picture, by snatching him for example, you risk changing the entire flow of history.”

  I pause for a second, letting my words sink in.

  His fingers are twitching now, which I take as a sign that he’s either nervous or losing his patience with me.

  “Are you saying that this recruit is going to grow up to be the next president of the United States so I had better return him to the time/place I snatched him from? That’s absurd!” He laughs, and this time some of the other instructors join in.

  “It’s not for me to decide,” I say, flatly. “It’s Uncle’s call. That’s why he asked me to bring the boy to him.”

  I keep my eyes locked on his. I have no idea whether he’s buying this. I must have played out this conversation about a hundred times in my cave using my shadow as a stand-in for Frank … but you never know how it’s going to go in real life.

  “Why should Uncle bring you all the way back from the Barrens just to escort the kid to him?” Frank asks. “Why wouldn’t he just call me?”

  He’s made a good point. I’ve got one card left to play, though.

  “I wish I knew,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “Be my guest; go right ahead and ask him. But he might be a bit annoyed if he finds out that you’re the one holding things up with all of your questions. I’ve got strict orders to deliver the boy to Headquarters as soon as possible.”

  I know that Frank can easily call my bluff. But I’m counting on him being as afraid of Uncle as I am. There’s no way he’d bother Uncle unless he was sure that I wasn’t telling the truth. And if I’m reading hi
s foot tapping correctly, Frank’s nowhere near sure.

  Just then, his eyes light up and his lips start to curve upward in a smile. Panic stabs me. I wasn’t expecting this reaction. Was it something I said? I quickly replay our conversation in my head but can think of nothing in our chat that should make him happy.

  He calls out in a loud voice. “Recruit Zach Rushton, step forward, please.”

  I see some rustling in the crowd. Someone is making his way to the front. The ring of children parts to let him through.

  I glance quickly at Frank as he watches the boy step forward. There’s not a trace of recognition in Frank’s eyes. Relief floods through me.

  “Well, Caleb. Here he is.” Frank’s tone is casual, almost sleepy. But I know better. He’s watching me intently, studying my reaction.

  I don’t want to look at the boy because if he really is Zach, I’m afraid my emotions will give me away. But looking is the normal and expected thing to do and if I don’t, then Frank will suspect that something is up.

  So I steel myself and glance across at him.

  July 11, 2061, 8:55 A.M.

  The Compound

  SoHo, New Beijing (formerly New York City)

  It’s him! It’s Zach!

  There’s the tiniest flicker in Zach’s eyes, but it’s quickly gone. Seeing his reaction makes me both happy and sad. Happy because I know he has recognized me, and sad because he has already mastered the first lesson of being a time snatcher: how to mask your emotions.

  “What is your name, recruit?” Frank says.

  “Zach Rushton, sir,” he answers, his tone as devoid of expression as his face.

  Why is Frank asking him who he is when he already knows? Then I get it. He’s putting on a little show for the benefit of the other recruits who are watching.

  “And how is your training going? Do you find your lessons interesting?” asks Frank. His tone is gentle, even friendly.

  “Yes, sir,” says Zach.

  “Excellent. Do you see this person?” Frank says, pointing to me.

  Zach’s bottom lip trembles slightly as he answers. “Yes, sir.”