“Quiet too,” added Kate. Aside from the rustle of dead leaves underfoot, everything was as silent as the grave. Not even birds sang.
“See over here young Arthur,” called Medoc, crouching beside a knee-high clump of vegetation. “This is Enchanter’s nightshade. I use it to treat wounds, so we must collect some.” [5]
AP, kneeling beside the sorcerer, examined the large-leafed plant with its small white flowers.
Kate watched uneasily. She couldn’t say why, but there was something ominous about Fordon Forest.
Medoc called a halt before sundown and they began setting up camp. Their tents were simply rectangles of goat hide sewn together. Without backs or fronts, all they provided was a roof over their heads. AP built a fire while Medoc, under Kate’s watchful eye, prepared a leg of pork for roasting. This seemed too much meat for three people, but Medoc explained they would finish the leftovers the following day.
“Your vegetarian phase didn’t last long,” AP commented to Kate as they feasted in the firelight.
“After what we’ve been through,” she said between mouthfuls, “I’m ready for anything.”
After supper, Medoc announced he would make them something special. “It’s been a hard day,” he declared, wiping greasy hands down his front. “And you’ve both had such a terrible ordeal.”
“Thanks to you,” thought Kate.
“I’ve got the very thing to help,” he continued, “one of my elixirs.”
“Poison for sure,” whispered Kate when he left to prepare the potion.
Medoc returned with three goblets. After handing over theirs, he took a long draft from his own. “A little bitter,” he said, pursing his lips, “but it’ll do us the power of good.” Then, gesturing with his free hand, he encouraged them to drink up.
Each took a swig, making loud swallowing sounds, but no liquid passed their lips. Lowering their goblets, they commented on the unusual taste.
“It’s a mixture of rosehip, camomile and burdock, with a pinch of yarrow.”
“And a generous slug of rat poison,” Kate said to herself.
Medoc, closing his eyes in ecstasy, drained his goblet. Seizing the opportunity, AP and Kate tipped their drinks away.
Kate noticed how Medoc’s eyes kept flitting between her and AP like a snake’s. “He’s watching for the potion to take effect,” she thought. “Let’s give him something to think about.”
“I feel so tired,” she yawned, rubbing her eyes.
“Me too,” agreed AP, taking the hint. “I’m almost asleep.”
Excusing themselves, they staggered from the fire and collapsed onto the fern mattress inside their tent.
“I can’t see him,” said Kate, staring toward the glow of the fire. “Can you?”
“No,” said AP, focusing on the other tent.
“So where’s he gone and what’s he up to?”
“Maybe he’s getting ready for bed,” AP replied hopefully.
Soon they were fighting real tiredness.
“Stay awake!” Kate whispered into the dark, but AP had already drifted off.
Alone in the dark, Kate was determined to fight sleep. She failed.
AP awoke with a start. Something large was moving through the forest. “Wake up!” he hissed into Kate’s ear.
Peering cautiously through the front of the tent, AP was surprised at how light it was. Then he realized the moon had risen. The rustling of leaves was growing louder, but all he saw was the silhouettes of trees.
Kate, now crouching beside him, could see nothing either. “Maybe it’s Medo—”
They both froze. Lumbering toward them was an enormous bear.
“What shall we do?” squealed Kate.
“Out the back,” whispered AP. “But move slowly and quietly.”
The bear, now dangerously close, kept stopping to sniff the air. Kate was convinced it had picked up their scent and would charge any second. Regardless, she kept backing out. Then they were clear of the tent.
The temptation to run was irresistible, though both knew this could trigger an attack. So they crept away, disappearing behind the nearest tree.
AP peeked around the trunk.
“What’s it doing now?” whispered Kate.
“Going into the tent.”
Grunting and snorting like a pig, the bear poked its nose into the fern mattress. Moments later AP saw it had something in its mouth: the remains of their pork roast. Medoc must have tucked it under their mattress while they were asleep.
After eating the meat and crunching the bone, the bear rooted around for more. Finding nothing, it lost interest and ambled away.
“Let’s get back to the fort and tell Arthur everything,” said AP. “He should know the truth about Medoc.”
“You think Arthur will take your word against Medoc’s? He’s known him all his life and you’ve been here only a month!”
Still believing he might persuade Arthur, AP asked Kate if she could find the way—to get a head start on Medoc.
“We’ve been traveling east since noon, so we just have to head west. Simple enough in daylight, but at night…”
“Look,” said AP pointing to the sky. “That’s Polaris, the North Star. We can use that as our compass.” [6]
Kate stared at the small star intently. “Okay,” she said after a long pause, “we can try.”
“I’ll grab our stuff,” he said, heading for their tent.
Minutes later, they were underway.
The eerie shadows cast by the moon added to their fear of meeting another bear. But as they continued walking they began to relax. AP even cracked a few jokes.
“My feet hurt,” complained Kate after a couple of hours. “Let’s take a rest.”
Slumping to the forest floor, they leaned their backs against a tree. Neither of them noticed the black shape flitting between the trees.
“It’s like when we first arrived in medieval times,” said AP, staring up at the heavens, “a full moon and we’re in a forest. We’ve been here exactly one month.”
“Maybe the abacus will work.” She slipped her arm through his. “Let’s give it a try.”
“Ready?” asked AP, his face glowing in the light from the map.
Instead of replying, Kate let out a piercing scream. “There’s Medoc!”
A dark shape, wearing a hooded cloak, slipped into view. “You have something that belongs to me,” he said ominously. He started moving toward them, hand outstretched.
“That’s not Medoc!” shouted AP, staring at the tall thin stranger. Then AP pressed the button and the forest lit up in a blaze of blue light.
The next instant they were sitting on the floor in the antique shop. “High Water” was still blaring from the radio. They’d been gone for precisely one second.
Chapter 10: Counting the Seconds
This is your captain again,” announced the pilot. “We’re now number two in line and will be pushing back shortly. Please turn off all electronic equipment. Once again, I apologize for the delay. Our flying time to Boston today will be seven hours twenty minutes, so we’ll be setting you down at the gate shortly after 3 p.m. local time. Sit back, relax, and enjoy your flight. Cabin crew, prepare for takeoff.”
Uncle Miles’s affairs had been settled and the Littletons were on their way home.
“Going through security was scary,” whispered AP once they were airborne. “I was sure they’d check my knapsack after it’d gone through the x-ray scanner.”
“So the abacus didn’t show on their screen?” asked Kate.
“I guess not, but it must be full of electronics. I wonder who built it?”
“Maybe the hooded guy,” suggested Kate. “He said we had something that belonged to him.”
“But that doesn’t mean he built the thing.”
They had gone over their medieval journey many times, but found no answers. One thing was certain—their recollections were identical so everything really did happen.
Kate popped i
n her ear buds. And while she listened to music, AP took another look at the device.
When he turned on the map, it showed the British Isles and the eastern part of North America. The blinking red dot was moving toward the Atlantic.
“Look at this,” he said, nudging Kate’s arm. “You can see the position of our aircraft.”
“Cool. How does it do that?”
“How does it do any of it?” AP marveled.
Just then, Kate remembered the pilot’s warning. “Quick, turn it off!” she gasped. “It’ll mess with the airplane’s equipment.”
“I’ll only be a second—I just want to copy down that equation.”
AP stared at the numbers: s = 2,551,442.9s. What did it mean? Then he had an idea.
“Maybe s is the usual abbreviation for second,” he thought. “We were away from one full moon to the next—how many seconds in a month?”
Pulling out his calculator, he found that twenty-eight days was 2,419,200 seconds.
“Close,” he said, writing down the number. Then he remembered that February was the only month with twenty-eight days. How long was a lunar month?
“Okay,” he said to himself, “I’ll divide 365 days by twelve. That’s 30.41666 days.”
This time a month worked out to be 2,627,999.4 seconds.
“Closer, but still not right. Maybe that’s not a lunar month. I’ll have to check on-line when we get back.”
* * *
AP turned the computer on as soon as he had dropped his suitcase in his room. When he Googled lunar month he got 29.53059 days. Working this out in seconds gave 2,551,442.9.
“Yes!” he yelled, punching the air.
He ran into Kate’s room without bothering to knock, waving his piece of paper. “Look at this!” he sang out, not noticing that she was on the phone. “One month in the past takes exactly one second in the present! We could live a whole year in the past and be away for only twelve seconds!”
Kate tried waving him away.
“Our first solid fact!” he continued, ignoring the hint. “Hopefully this is just—”
“Get lost!” she screamed. “I’m busy?” Then, speaking into the phone, “Sorry Whitney, just my brother being a pain.”
AP spun on his heels and left. “Welcome home,” he said to himself.
Chapter 11: The Old Routine
Resolving the lunar month gave AP such a boost that he was determined to discover more about the abacus. However, after two days of experimenting, his enthusiasm was fading. Then, on the third day, he got a lucky break. He had been rearranging the beads—checking that the number on the screen changed to match the one he’d just “beaded-in”—when the phone rang downstairs.
“It’s Michael,” called his mother. “He wants to know if you’re going to judo tonight.”
AP went downstairs, forgetting to turn off the abacus.
Returning minutes later, he beaded-in a new number—12231826—and watched an unfamiliar number flash up on the screen—12/23/1826. AP was baffled at first. Then he realized that instead of showing a certain number of years, the numerals appeared as a date—December the twenty-third, eighteen-twenty-six. The screen button must have a double function! When the screen’s off the beads count for years. But when the screen’s on they stand for months, days and years, letting you travel to a particular date.
Feeling pleased with himself, he went downstairs to raid the fridge.
* * *
Kate was spending a lot of time with her best friend Whitney. Her sister owned a car, so they often went to the mall. Between shopping for back-to-school clothes and seeing friends, Kate hung out at the ball diamond with her team. A few months ago, a new addition, Mitch Bailey, had joined the team. Mitch had recently moved from Montana with his family. He and Kate got along really well.
Although Mitch loved baseball, he hadn’t shown up to play since Kate’s return.
“Where’s Mitch?” Kate asked Whitney one day.
“Oh he had to fly home for a wedding—he’ll be back next week. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” she fibbed.
* * *
AP was happy about returning to school and slipping back into the old routine, but not Kate.
“Everything’s so boring,” she complained one night at supper. “I can’t see the point of school. Who needs all that useless stuff they teach us?”
Her parents exchanged glances—it was going to be another of those meals.
“No knowledge is useless,” reasoned her father. “Some things are just more interesting than others.”
Mrs. Littleton shot him a warning glance.
“So what’s interesting about the French Revolution or the U.S. Bill of Rights?” challenged Kate.
“Well…” began Mr. Littleton.
The discussion lasted most of suppertime, with her father doing all the reasoning and Kate all the grumbling. Things ended when Kate stormed upstairs and slammed her door. Kate lay on her bed staring at the ceiling. Then she got a phone call from one of her teammates.
“Hey, Kristen…Nothing much…Yeah that sucks...No, what?...Christie Ford? No way. But she’s so evil. How could anyone want to take her? No I don’t…I have zero interest in him. Listen, Mitch can take Christie Ford or anyone else to the dance…That’s so not true. You can think that if you like…Seriously, I have to go now. Bye.” She tossed her cell phone aside and buried her head in the pillow.
While Kate skulked in her room, AP was in the basement helping his father shelve some old National Geographic magazines. A cover picture of the Titanic caught his eye. He flicked through the article, looking at photos of the rusting hull. Then he came to another, titled “Ghosts on the Little Bighorn.” He started reading every word.
When Mr. and Mrs. Littleton went to bed that night, Kate’s light was still on. Samantha Littleton thought of checking to see if her daughter was okay, but her husband persuaded her not to. When Kate was in one of her moods, it was best to leave her alone.
“Tread with care,” AP’s father warned him the following evening. “Your sister’s having a bad day!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I have no idea. She’s hardly spoken a word, not even on her cell phone. No text messaging either!”
“Where is she now?”
“Two guesses.”
AP nodded. “I’ll go upstairs and see what I can do.”
“You’re a braver man than me!”
“Kate?” AP called, knocking gently on her door.
No reply.
“Kate?”
Plucking up his courage, he turned the handle and opened the door.
Kate was lying on her bed listening to her iPod. She barely reacted when she saw him.
“Can I come in?” he asked, loudly enough to be heard over the music in her ears.
“Suit yourself.” She shrugged.
“What’s bugging you?”
“Nothing’s bugging me. Everything’s fine.”
“Sure.”
“Just go away and leave me alone.”
“I want to help.”
“Well you can’t, so forget it.”
“Remember Camelot? We looked out for each other then didn’t we?”
He thought he saw the slightest nod.
“How about another trip? I’ve got a great idea.”
Seconds passed.
“Where to?”
AP knew he’d got her attention. “Montana.”
Kate sat up and pulled off her ear buds. “Montana?”
“It’s a cool place. And an amazing time period—June, 1876.”
“What’s so special about that?”
“The Little Bighorn.”
“Is that some sort of cattle?”
“It’s a river.”
She stared at him blankly.
“Custer?” he said, expecting her to clue in. “General Custer and the Battle of the Little Bighorn.”
That got a reaction.
“There’s no way
we’re getting involved in any battles. I had enough of them in medieval England.”
“We’d be nowhere near the battleground. We can find out about it by talking with the locals.”
Kate sat in silence—pondering. Things could hardly be any worse for her.
“When should we go?” asked AP, pushing his luck.
“Right away,” Kate replied.
“Like, now?” AP was stunned.
“Don’t you want to go then?”
“Sure I do. I’ll get the abacus and we’re out of here.”
Chapter 12: Buffalo!
Kate lay on her back staring up at a vast blue sky. How could it be so big? She closed her eyes, breathing in the fragrance of flowers and fresh grass. It was like the first days of summer.
“Are you ever going to move?” AP’s voice rang through her head like an alarm bell, ending the daydream.
She stood up beside him and gazed around in wonder. The grassy plain, with its gently rolling hills, went on forever, with barely a tree in sight.
“This is so beautiful,” sighed Kate. “Look at all the colors. And I’ve never seen such tall grass—it’s above our knees.”
“It’s taller farther east. Way over my head.”
“Grass doesn’t grow that tall.”
“Not in the twenty-first century, but it does in these times.”
Kate looked doubtful.
“This was one huge grassland, before the settlers turned the prairies into farmland. Speaking of prairies—” He smirked. “Did you ever see Little House on the Prairie?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You’d fit right in,” he said, looking her up and down.
Kate was wearing a long gray dress that almost reached her ankles, with a button-up collar, long sleeves with cuffs, and big pockets. Her laced-up boots looked scuffed and worn. The only splash of color was a blue bonnet, tied beneath her chin with a white bow.
“What about you then, Mr. Smarty-pants? You’ve got a scruffy old shirt, suspenders, and your pants are way too short. As for the battered cowboy hat—”
“I think I look good,” AP grinned, and spun around on the spot.
ABACUS Page 8