by Jodi Taylor
He managed to say, ‘Door.’ I caught a glimpse of a familiar-looking interior. He staggered inside. I tried to shout to him. To tell him to wait, but the door closed on my words. Hot sand and air blasted into my face as his pod jumped away. I was just outside the danger zone. The whole thing had taken only a few seconds. Far less time than it takes to describe. And then rough hands seized me and forced me face down into the sand.
I didn’t resist. This was the Time Police. They’d shoot me as soon as look at me.
They rolled me over on to my back. I spat more mouthfuls of sand and tried to blink my eyes clear.
I was crying. Crying with rage and frustration and despair. Crying for that last, lost chance of peace. And in that hot, dry, dust-filled landscape, as the Time Police pointed their guns and shouted at me, I think a small part of me was already crying for all the grief I knew was to come.
I shouted, ‘You stupid, stupid bastards,’ saw something swinging towards me, and closed my eyes.
I half hoped they would drag me away to their pod because it would be less of a walk in this still furnace-like heat. I was assuming they had a snug spot awaiting me in the Time Police dungeons, where I could languish until Dr Bairstow turned up and made them wish they’d never been born. But two of them peeled off, presumably to their own pod, and the rest of us trooped back to mine. I don’t remember much about the trek, two of them had hold of my arms and kept me upright. Someone did plonk my hat back on my head, for which I was grateful.
Actually, it was a good job they were there. Sand had piled up against one side of the pod – the side with the door, obviously, and it took them a good half an hour to clear it away. I sat in the pod’s shade and let them get on with it. Just for once, they were doing something useful.
When they’d finished, they heaved me to my still very unsteady feet and demanded entrance and I was happy to comply.
I said, ‘Door,’ and wobbled my way into the blessed cool of Number Eight. I took the left-hand seat and tried to pull myself together.
They started poking around the console and I told them to pack it in before they broke something. They demanded I return to St Mary’s. I said I had no intention of going anywhere else and told them to get out of my way.
I made them wait. I washed my face and hands, found an icepack in the med-kit, clapped it to my eye and took a good long glug of water before eventually coming back to the console.
The return coordinates were already laid in. I didn’t bother warning them, saying, ‘Computer, initiate jump,’ before most of them were ready. No one actually fell over, but one or two staggered. No one does petty revenge better than me.
I made them decontaminate, refusing to open the door until the cold, blue light had done its business. I couldn’t see any sign of their own pod, but that might be because even for the Time Police, it’s considered very bad manners to appear uninvited. I guessed theirs would be outside Hawking somewhere. Protocol says to park outside and then wait to be identified and invited inside.
Dieter had gone and his place had been taken by Guthrie. Leon stood beside him. I touched my swollen eye said, ‘Wouldn’t want to be you guys,’ and without waiting for permission to exit, opened the door. Still a little white and wobbly, I stepped out.
They shouldered me aside, weapons raised, shouting that confused babble that’s supposed to be so intimidating. At one and the same time we were ordered to get on the floor, put our hands in the air, put them behind our heads, get on our knees and so on.
I ignored them all, saying wearily, ‘Good evening, Dr Bairstow.’
He limped forwards. ‘It’s morning, Dr Maxwell,’ and I realised they’d waited all night for me to come back. ‘You appear to be injured.’
‘Yet another Time Police-related injury, sir. One of oh-so-many over the years.’
He turned to whomever he had decided was in charge.
‘Explain.’
‘Dr Bairstow, you and all St Mary’s personnel are under arrest for…’
‘Shut up,’ said Leon. He stepped forward and tilted up my chin. ‘Which one of them did this?’
Some time ago, Leon had led the rebellion against the Time Police. He’d travelled up and down the timeline, engaging them where and whenever possible. They might not fear me – I imagine I’m about as intimidating as cold rice pudding – but Leon was another matter altogether.
‘Not sure,’ I said. ‘I was on the ground at the time.’
He looked around. ‘Six Time Police to subdue one small historian. Yes, that sounds about right.’
‘I’m not all that small.’
‘In the execution of our duties…’
‘You … will …be … silent,’ said Dr Bairstow and the suppressed fury in his voice frightened even me.
Everyone shut up. I could hear the silence echoing around the hangar.
‘Dr Maxwell, report.’
Just by looking at him, I could see he was more furious than I could ever remember. Even more furious than the time we stole Arthur’s sword back from Thirsk. Deadly, stone-cold furious.
‘As per your instructions, sir…’
I gave him my report in full, ignoring the twitching Time Police around me. Leon never took his eyes off them and I could see he was making them nervous. Guthrie stood well back in the shadows. I wondered if the rest of the Security team was there as well.
When I’d finished, I shut up and waited.
They tried again. ‘You are under arrest for…’
Dr Bairstow spoke quietly, but no one had any difficulty hearing his words.
‘Your clumsiness has jeopardised the safety of St Mary’s and everyone within it. It is my unit that will bear the brunt of your failure today. My unit that will be the focus of his revenge. My unit that will have to deal with the consequences of your unsuccessful and disastrous interference. That Dr Maxwell is not dead is no thanks to you. That Ronan has escaped is thanks to you. That he will now have no other purpose other than to damage my unit and my people is also thanks to you. I congratulate you – this day you have effortlessly restored the reputation for heavy-handed bungling for which the Time Police are so renowned.’
Unwisely, their officer tried to make his voice heard. ‘Dr Maxwell here was caught, red-handed…’
Dr Bairstow interrupted him with ease.
‘Dr Maxwell would you be so kind as to reveal the contents of your pocket. Please do it slowly. Our colleagues in the Time Police are not noted for their rapid and accurate assessments of ongoing situations.’
I put down the icepack with which I had been attempting, unsuccessfully, to prevent another black eye and very slowly pulled out a small EMP device.
The officer’s face paled as he took in the implications. He took half a step backwards, but the Boss hadn’t finished with him yet.
‘Dr Maxwell’s instructions were to advise Ronan of my complete refusal to accept the terms he had presented, but my willingness to embark on a dialogue that would be beneficial to all. There was never, at any point, any thought of allowing him to walk away from his past crimes, but a hope that a way forward could be found. To reinforce this point, and to prevent his escape, at a moment she judged appropriate, Dr Maxwell was to disable his pod, leaving him with no choice other than to return with her to St Mary’s. Chief Farrell and Major Guthrie are here awaiting their arrival. If you please, Major.’
Guthrie made a small signal and the entire Security Section stepped out from the shadows. Armoured, armed, ready for anything.
‘At this point, having apprehended Clive Ronan, and when it was no longer possible even for the Time Police to … Well, at this point, your commander would have been informed. Once we had him safely in custody. As it is, thanks to the Time Police, the only thing we have now is an escaped and angry Clive Ronan who is, no doubt, out there now, plotting new ways to injure my unit and its personnel.’
‘By the powers vested in the Time Police…’
‘No one from my unit is under arrest.
Nor will they be. You will leave now and count yourselves fortunate. You will report to your commander on your return. Please advise her I am available to discuss your professional behaviour with her at her earliest convenience.’ He gestured towards the hangar door. ‘Do not allow us to detain you.’
The Security Section escorted them to their pod. No one suffered a ‘fall’ on the way out, which I thought was particularly restrained of them, and a few seconds later, they’d gone.
I drew a deep breath and turned to Leon. We’re in trouble now, aren’t we?’
He nodded grimly. ‘We are. Listen to me, Max. From this moment on, you never set foot outside unless you have someone with you. Matthew is never to be left alone, not even for one moment. If one of us can’t be with him, then he goes to Sick Bay where he’ll be safe.’
I nodded. ‘Is that where he is now?’
He nodded and reapplied my icepack.
‘Leon, we had a chance…’
‘I know, love. But there might be others.’
‘You know there won’t be. If he didn’t hate us before, he does now.’ I shivered. ‘Especially me.’
He smiled. ‘Go and get Matthew. Have a long hot bath. I’ll see you in a minute.’
I left Leon and Guthrie talking to Dr Bairstow and made my way to Sick Bay. I would collect Matthew, get my eye looked at, swill down a couple of mugs of tea, have a bath and soak away ten tons of desert sand from all my nooks and crannies. The inside of my clothes felt like sandpaper. As did my throat.
Sick Bay was deserted so it was a good job I wasn’t spouting blood or hadn’t a limb hanging off. I had no idea where Hunter was, and Helen, I guessed, was in her office with her feet up, enjoying a peaceful cigarette.
Isaac Newton says that time is like an arrow – always moving steadily in one direction. Einstein says time is like a river, with currents and swirls and eddies, moving faster in some places and slower in others.
It was doing that now.
I let the door swing behind me and time began to slow.
I started across the reception area with its empty nurses’ station and it slowed some more.
I turned towards Helen’s office to tell her I was here, and it slowed even more.
The door to Helen’s office opened and Clive Ronan stepped out, still in the same sand-covered clothes in which I’d last seen him, and carrying Matthew in one arm and a gun in the other.
Time … stopped.
He hadn’t waited even one day to make good his threat. Always unpredictable, he had come straight from there to here. While I had been downstairs, distracted by the Time Police, he had been upstairs. With Matthew. I remembered his words.
‘No Maxwell. You’re going to live. Everyone else in your world will die but you’ll live on. You’ll look back on today and wish I had killed you.’
We stared at each other. Nothing happened. Neither of us moved.
And then, all at once, time started up again.
Another door – the one to the ladies’ toilets opened – and Helen stepped out, drying her hands on a paper towel.
Seeing me, she opened her mouth to say something. I’ll never know what it was.
A fraction of a second later, she caught sight of Clive Ronan standing in the doorway of her office, gun in one hand, Matthew in the other.
She stopped dead, staring, her mouth still open.
He swung his gun, covering first Helen, then me, then back to Helen again.
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. I took one step forward. Just one.
The gun swung my way. At the same time, Matthew caught sight of me and smiled. The gun was pointing straight at me.
I closed my eyes and held my breath, waiting for the sound of the gunshot that would end my life. The last sound I would ever hear.
Nothing happened. I opened my eyes again.
He smiled at me. He actually smiled at me. ‘No. Not today, Maxwell. I promised I’d make you suffer. Today is just Day One. Get used to it.’
He swung the gun towards Helen and fired.
A small black circle appeared over one eye. She stood for one moment, blank faced and then she crumpled to the ground.
Sound came back into the world. Matthew jumped at the noise of the shot fired only inches from his ear. He screamed in fear and began to cry. Tears of terror ran down his little face. He held his arms out to me. Just as he always did whenever he saw me. He held his little arms out to me. For me to save him. And I let him down.
I couldn’t move. The most important moment of my life and I couldn’t move. Couldn’t cry out. Couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t save Helen, for whom it was already too late. Couldn’t save Matthew. Useless, pathetic Maxwell.
The slam of a door and the sudden sharp smell of cordite brought me back. He’d gone out the fire door. I was blocking the only exit from Sick Bay so it had to have been the fire door.
The sound of the slamming door broke the spell. Now, suddenly, I could move. I had to raise the alarm. I opened my com and for a moment, nothing happened. The most important message of my life and I couldn’t barely utter even a word. I took a deep breath, leaned against the wall for support, and desperately tried not to gabble.
‘This is Maxwell. Code Red. Code Red. Code Red.’
I didn’t recognise my own voice.
I stopped for another breath.
‘Intruder alert. Clive Ronan is here. He’s…’
My throat closed. I swallowed hard and forced myself on. ‘He’s taken Matthew from Sick Bay. He’s outside. Lock everything down. Cover all exits. I repeat – he’s got Matthew. Medics to Sick Bay. Man down.’
And then I was moving. He had twenty, maybe thirty seconds start on me.
A lifetime for Matthew.
I burst through the fire door, travelling far too fast for my own safety, slipping on the metal steps, and rolling from top to bottom. I landed, sprawling, on the gravel.
I heaved myself to my feet, looking wildly around. No one was in sight anywhere. I could hear shouting in the distance but I didn’t stop.
I ran. I ran all around the outside of the building, screaming for Matthew all the time. I ran along the terrace, around the building, through the car park, past the Staff Block, past the Library windows, around Hawking and back to where I’d started.
No Ronan. No Matthew. Convinced I’d missed them somewhere, I set off again. People shouted to me as I ran past but I ignored them. Catching Ronan and getting Matthew back were more important than anything else in the whole world.
And then I thought he might be hiding. I ran in and out of the shrubbery, thrusting bushes and branches aside, scratching my face badly. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere.
And then I thought – stupid Maxwell. He’s doubled back inside. He’ll hide until the coast is clear and then make his escape.
I crashed in through the front door. There were people everywhere.
Someone said, ‘Max…’
I saw Mrs Enderby, white and frightened. She was crying. I ran straight past her. No time to lose. I had to find Matthew.
They said afterwards that I went berserk. I wrenched open door after door. I tossed things all over the place. I pulled stuff off shelves. God knows why. Some of it fell on top of me. I had no method. I searched the same areas twice and some not at all. I ran into walls. I hurt myself and never noticed. I was frenzied. Beyond panic. Beyond reason. Not thinking at all. No one tried to stop me. I’m not sure anyone could have. I would have killed them.
Matthew held out his arms to me. That’s all I remember. There must be other memories hiding in there somewhere, but that’s all I ever remember. Matthew holding his arms out to me as that bastard Ronan stole him away and I never saw my baby again.
I have no idea for how long I was lost to the world. I might even now still be tearing around St Mary’s, frightening everyone around me if I hadn’t blindly collided with something warm and solid. Someone put his arms around me, holding me close, and Leon’s voice said quietly
, ‘Max. Stop. You must stop. You’re hurting yourself. Be still. Please, just … be … still.’
I struggled, but he held me tightly, his face close to mine, saying, ‘Hush, now. Be still. Be still,’ over and over again, until I suddenly realised that I was exhausted. My legs trembled. I could barely stand up. I hurt all over. My heart was hammering fit to burst. I honestly thought I might die.
He held me for a lifetime as slowly, very slowly, everything subsided within me. I laid my head on his chest and clutched at him as if my life depended upon it. The sounds of St Mary’s receded and there were only the two of us in the whole world.
He broke the spell first, saying softly, ‘Look at me, Max. Look at me.’
I lifted my head to look around me.
It was dark. All the lights were on. When had that happened? Where had the time gone?
He looked terrible. Ten years older. Grey-faced. Haggard. His own eyes red-rimmed and swollen. I put my hand to his face. He turned his head and kissed my palm.
I wiped my nose on his orange jumpsuit. He found me an oily handkerchief, saying shakily, ‘Not your most attractive habit, Lucy.’
I made an enormous effort to pull myself together. Leon needed me to function.
‘Can you go and see Dr Bairstow?’ he said, and I nodded. ‘He wants to talk to you. To find out exactly what happened. I have to find Ian Guthrie and join the search again. Will you be all right on your own for a little while?’
I nodded again. ‘Please don’t be too long.’
‘I won’t. I promise.’
The stairs seemed endless. I saw no one but I could hear sounds of searching. Doors opening and closing. People calling to each other. They must have been at it for hours. It was useless. I knew it was useless. Ronan was long gone.
With that thought, I felt my chest clench and everything swayed around me. I leaned on the banisters and struggled on.
Mrs Partridge was waiting for me.
‘He’s on the telephone at the moment,’ she said. ‘He won’t be a minute. Please come and sit down.’