by Jenn Lees
“Nuclear warheads?” Angela’s voice rose at the end of her sentence.
“Angela, really? There are children around and I didn’t want to alarm anyone.” He widened his eyes at her.
“Are the rest of the Chief Council aware of what you’re doing. I have heard nothing. When did you report back to us?” Angela’s hand was on her hip, and she used her most officious tone.
Rory groaned and glanced at the ceiling. “I am completing my information gathering before I report my findings to the Chief Council.”
“Oh, of course.” She seemed satisfied with his answer.
“Goodbye then. I’ll call the Council when I’m ready.” Rory stood, a sheaf of papers in hand, and ushered her out the door.
Rory turned to Xian. “We need more information. Wonder what there is around the place outside o’ this wee library. My mother kept everything she thought would be of value one day.” He stood thinking for a moment, then raised an index finger in the air. “Murray!”
“Your genius brother has a secret stash, you think?” Xian said.
“Worth an ask.” Rory tilted his head as he ran to the door. He almost bowled Kendra over. “Oh, Kendra, could you please get ma’ wee brother, Murray? Tell him it’s urgent. I want all his textbooks, papers, scribbles, anything!”
Kendra’s left index finger pointed over her shoulder behind her, she opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted.
“If you want all of that, you’ll have to come to my room.” Rory’s sandy-haired and slim youngest brother strolled behind Kendra. “But you’ll have to tell me everything.”
MURRAY SAT AT HIS DESK. To his left was a pile of books, to his right a neat stack of freshly made paper. In the middle, arranged in his specific order was a ruler, a solar powered calculator, a short, stubby pencil, a slide-rule, and a rubber. Above his desk on the wall, a poster of Einstein in Andy Warhol style looked down on them. Murray’s left elbow leaned on his desk as Rory stood in front of him, his debrief completed.
“A faulty nuclear warhead is leaking radiation into Loch Ewe, and we have to stop it and save Scotland from being nuked.” Murray summarised Rory’s information dump.
“Aye, brother. Time’s of the essence. What’ve you got for me?” Rory sat on the end of Murray’s bed. It squeaked. Xian joined him and it squeaked again.
Murray chewed his lower lip, then stood and walked past him and Xian to the other side of his bed. He reached under and dragged out a box with magazines piled to the top and two spilled onto the floor.
“Where d’you get these?” Rory reached over and pulled out car magazines, boating magazines, hunting and fishing magazines. “Och, why have I no’ seen these?”
Murray ignored him as he emptied the top layer and rifled to the bottom.
“Mum gave me these years ago. I’ve only briefly looked at them. They’re academic journals. Don’t ask me where she got them from, but she said I would be the only one who would understand them, apart from the scientists. Oh, they might have more.” Murray’s brows flicked up with this comment.
“Aye, yes. But I did nae want too many people to know what or why I’m looking for what I’m looking for.” Rory tilted his head.
“But we can trust Angus. And Martin, our cousin, the physicist will know more than any of us.”
“Aye, it’s time to bring them in on it.” Rory conceded. “But we’ll read all o’ this first.”
“All of it?” Xian flicked through the magazine he held, squinting his eyes. “It looks complicated.”
“They are academic journals.” Rory screwed his face at the one he held. “Aye, we’ll need help.”
“I remember Angus reading a journal once which had an article by a nuclear physicist of the late Twenty-teens.” Murray played with his lower lip as he squatted in front of the box. “He wasn’t aware I was reading it across the table from him. Not everyone can read upside down. I didn’t know that; I thought everyone could.” Murray looked up from the floor at Rory.
“We’ll start with that one then.”
“AND THAT’S ABOUT IT, but don’t ask me how to disarm a faulty nuclear warhead.” Martin sat with Rory, Murray, and Angus, who was the main scientist involved with the Time Machine. George Stobbart and the other members of the Chief Council, the ruling body of the Community, sat around the tables in the book-lined library. The number of books the Invercharing Community had gathered always amazed Rory.
The laughter of teenagers, supposed to be doing their homework in the schoolroom, filtered through the closed door, while the vague scent of the communal evening meal wafted through the partially opened window. So did the sound of the footsteps of those who had worked all the summer’s day in the fields and who now headed home for their supper.
It had been a long evening, and mental fatigue numbed Rory’s comprehension.
Or maybe, he wasn’t smart enough to understand it all.
But Rory was certain of one thing. He took a breath to steady his pulse, which had beat a loud thumping in his ears since he’d decided on his course of action.
“Even if we had the time, which we don’t, to scour the land and gather every scrap of information which has survived the last forty years,” Rory said, “We could never equip ourselves adequately to do it all, at all, or even safely.”
The Chief Council sitting before Rory were grim-faced. Gasps and gulps had come from them as he relayed the information he had. Mentally Rory formed his next comment, endeavouring to shape his words so they would understand—and agree.
But how would they take it?
“I have a proposal I’d like to make.” Rory ensured he had everyone’s attention, eyeballing each one around the table in turn. “I will use the Time Machine to go back to before the Stock Market Crash and speak to this nuclear physicist himself.” Rory held up the Scientific Journal belonging to Angus, to which Murray had referred. “And find out what we need to know in our specific situation.”
Angus flicked his mop of thick, dark hair away from his eyes and gave a tight smile as he pushed his glasses back up his nose; a paperclip held the left arm of his spectacles onto the black frames. In his own quiet way, he seemed pleased he could help. He was many years older than Murray, but they were close friends; their love of science and mathematics had brought them together. And Angus had covered for them when their youngest sister Kelly had made her secret, and unauthorised, journey to the past.
So far, Angus’ journal had an article with the most up to date, for that time, information on nuclear warheads. Well, it was the most recent dated article they could find on the subject.
“We have a name and a place of employment. We should be able to find him.” Rory waited for cries of disagreement. None came. He took his opportunity to press his point. “We can make return journeys to the past. As I have done so, I am the best person for this mission.”
Still no comments from the people before him.
“The beauty of time travel is I can go back and take as long as I need to gather information, and equipment even, and return in no time at all, literally. I can go and be back here immediately.” Rory raised his eyebrows and nodded for emphasis as they still hadn’t commented. “Which means I won’t be wasting the precious time we don’t have at this end.”
Rory’s pulse thudded loudly in his ears. Or was it just the room was so quiet, devoid of comment? Angela’s forehead creased in a scowl.
Oh no, here it comes.
“On your own, Rory? Surely you will need assistance.” Angela sat taller, enjoying the fact she was the only one with a question.
Well, at least it wasn’t one of her usual objections.
“I’ve been to the past before, I know—”
“Yes, we know all that. But you’re not a scientist, are you?” Angela’s piercing blue eyes bored into his, rubbing in his inadequacies.
“No, I’m not but—”
“I’ll go.” Murray held up his hand. “I’ll understand what the physicist is saying, what to
ask him and I’ll remember it.”
Oh aye, the lad’s got a photographic memory—when he wants to.
“But you’re our wee brother.” Angela found her objection at last.
“Angela, I’m twenty-one! I’m not a kid anymore. In the good old days, I could drink, vote and marry well and truly before now. Rory will need me. He can protect me. Be ‘the Muscle’.” Murray smiled.
Rory’s guts niggled, but the lad was right. He’d need Murray’s brains.
“You must do it without giving away where, I mean when, you’re from.” George Stobbart looked over his glasses at him.
“Aye, we’ll keep it secret. Well, as much as we can. It’s desperate though, I may need to divulge this information to find out what we need to know. I’ll just have tae risk it. They’ll never find the Time Machine, as it stays back here, aye.” Relief surged through Rory like a wave of warm air dispelling the wind off Bhienn Fionn as the Chief Council members made no objection, not even Angela. George nodded in silence. Those present understood the gravity of their situation. “We cannot expect to stay isolated in our safe, secure haven of a Community for ever without the big-bad-world out there, or its issues, intruding on us. It would be naïve to think so,” Rory said.
“So, when are we going?” Murray asked.
“As soon as we can.”
“No, I mean when are we going?”
“Oh aye, when do you think?” Rory hadn’t got as far as specifics in his plan.
“We should go when we know where this professor is and right before the stock market crashes,” Murray replied.
“But you must step carefully, Rory,” Martin said. An older cousin on his mother’s side, he was smart, like Murray, and had attended a university, studied physics, before the world changed.
“I know,” Rory answered, pushing down impatience. “I have been to the past before—”
“Yes, but then you went straight to Glencoe,” Martin interrupted. “This time you must go further, into a city perhaps, where there’s more people to interact with and more chances of affecting past-history. Stick to yourselves as much as possible, yeah? Keep out of anything, not just trouble.”
“But what if you’re caught in the chaos and can’t get back?” Angela had a good point.
All eyes were on Murray.
“Why right before, brother?” Rory asked.
“We may need some historical happening to convince the man we aren’t crazies.” Murray raised his eyebrows.
Well done. Murray had been thinking.
“Where is he?” Rory looked at the scientific journal sitting on the table.
“Edinburgh,” Murray replied. “He’s in the employ of Welson Nuclear, at the time of the paper, that is. It was published 2018, but his research would’ve taken place before that. He could even have worked for the Government.”
“So, it’s a day to get from here to there, by car. We’ll take some money and buy one. I’ll drive.” Rory looked pointedly at Murray. “A day or so to get the info—.”
“That’s if we find him straight away,” Murray interrupted.
“The exact date?” Angus asked. He would set the Time Machine and needed Murray’s help with the calculations for their journeys.
No one in the room spoke as Rory and Murray were both deep in thought.
“A week before.” Rory drew his eyebrows together.
“No, four days.” Murray’s eyes flicked as he spoke. “Two to find him,” he glanced up at Rory, “two to convince him...and get home before the craziness starts. Which is around the twentieth of June 2018. So, we go the eighteenth. Be ready to get us back from the twenty-second. Maybe.”
Rory nodded. It was all guesswork. It would have to do. But they must get back to the Time Machine’s pick-up point on time. Once again, as with his previous journey to the past, it was all risk. Only this time he would go further away from the Time Machine’s base.
“No one must know. Only us in this room.” Rory focused on the Chief Council members who were some of the few with knowledge of the Time Machine’s existence. “Not the rest of the family.” Rory stared at Angela. His family knew of the Time Machine after their father’s illegal journey to the past. “Nor any of my crew.” Rory looked at George. “It will be over quickly at this end and then we can get on with sorting the warhead.” Rory gave a short sharp nod. “Agreed then?”
“Agreed,” chorused the Chief Council before him.
“Come on, brother,” Rory looked directly at Murray. “Let’s prepare.”
Chapter 6
To the Past
Rory stepped over the thick cables duct-taped to the earthen floor of the high-raftered barn that housed the Time Machine. He’d dressed plainly in jeans, T-shirt, jumper, and hiking boots. Comfortable shoes were always an essential item.
“No, no, no.” George shook his head as he pointed out the long range rifle over Rory’s shoulder, the Glock at his hip and the hunting knife in its sheath hanging on his belt. “You can’t carry weapons in that time unless you are a police officer or a member of the defence force. And you, son, are neither.”
“You’re joking.” Rory tensed, now extremely uncomfortable at the thought of being weapon-less. Naked. He swallowed as he removed the rifle from his shoulder.
“More.” George’s hand flicked forward.
“It’s all I’m leavin’. I’ll hide the rest.” Rory took his hunting knife in its sheath from his belt and tucked it into his right boot, strapping it to his calf.
“They have metal detectors everywhere,” George said as Rory shoved his Glock in the waistband of his jeans at his back.
“I’ll take the risk. We may need to defend ourselves. We’re going back to when the world went crazy. I’ve been there before, remember? Nae body fussed about ma’ weapons then.”
“Aye, Rory lad, but you were just in Glencoe. This time you’re going to the big city. It’s different,” George said.
“What about the Gung-Fu your friend has been teaching you.” Murray sidled past him as he made his way in between the cubicle and the machine’s control panel. “Thought you were the weapon?”
“Oh, aye. I can hold my own close-up. It’s the ones who are too chicken and go you from far off that concern me.” Rory looked back to George and tilted his head. “I’ll no’ be unarmed.”
“Be careful.” George shook his head slowly. “And if you drive, you’ll need a licence.”
“Och, Murray’s got that covered.” Rory lifted his chin to Murray who stepped close.
Murray held a palm-size plastic card with a small identification photograph in one corner. He handed it to Rory who looked at a 2018 UK Drivers Licence; the photograph was of his father. Rory’s gut clenched.
“You look enough like Dad for it to work.” Murray half-smiled, his piercing blue-gaze locked on Rory.
“Where did ye get this?” George looked closely at the licence. “Aye, you’re the spit o’ him.”
“I found some documents and such in an old trunk of Mum’s. Knew they would come in handy one day.” Murray bit his lower lip.
“Who lives at Bridge of Orchy?” Rory asked.
“Dad used his Uncle Robert’s address,” Murray said. “He won’t know if we lie low. And then we’ll be back, or the world will be so crazy it won’t matter that you, or Dad, don’t actually live there.”
Rory dragged his eyes away from the licence and looked at Murray.
“You okay, wee brother? You’ve not done this before. It’s a wee bit disorientating.” Murray slipped his backpack on as he gave a brief nod. It held cash, an old UK A-Z, and a spare pod.
“Where d’you get the jeans from?” Murray glanced at Rory’s legs.
“They were Dad’s. What he wore in the past.” The familiar ache in his chest took over momentarily. Rory inhaled through his nose; the jeans still smelled of his father.
“A bit different from your buckskins and loincloth.” Murray unsuccessfully repressed a smile.
“Buck
skins are more comfortable than this tough material any day.”
Rory emptied the rifle’s ammunition from his own backpack and double checked he had a resin pod in which to return. He was first to step into the old fibreglass shower cubicle which was the transporter for the Time Machine. So simple. To one side, at the desk-like station, Angus set the dials on the machine’s control panel to the required date and then nodded to Rory. Rory stepped into the resin pod and began to close the clasps.
“See you there, brother,” Rory said to Murray as the world went blurry.
RORY AWOKE ON A SOFT dirt floor. He heaved and lost the contents of his stomach.
Odd. That hadn’t happened last time.
Rory must have torn himself out of the pod, as it lay in shreds beside him. Bright daylight angled into the barn from the east through the wide-open doors, bathing him in warmth. Fine particles of pale straw filled the air, wafting past his nose, threatening a sneeze. Close beside him there was a shimmer. He scampered out of the way as Murray appeared and then helped him out of his pod.
“You okay?” Rory asked.
Murray nodded. “A good summer that year? This year.” He blinked at the daylight filling the barn.
Behind them was the noise of a tractor engine in the field out the back. They walked the opposite way and exited via the large barn doors, then made their way around to the front door of the house. It was cleaner and newer. Familiar, but not so.
“Can I help you, lads?” The farmer stood behind them.
Rory pivoted at the sudden sound of the farmer’s voice. “Aye, please. We were wondering if you knew the time of the next train from Achnasheen to Inverness?”
“Where have ye come frae?” The farmer squinted at them.
“Och, we’ve been hill-walking. Some braw Munros around here.” Rory recalled people used to do it for fun.
“At this time o’ day? Wee bit early to be making your way home.”
“Aye, we stayed overnight on Bhienn Fionn, right up by the cairn, ye ken. On oor way hame tae Edinburgh the noo’.” Rory laid his accent on thick. It might help.