by Jenn Lees
Murray shrugged. Rory, dissatisfied with the lack of information, opened the handmade manual on driving submarines and began to read.
THE TRAIN PULLED INTO Waverly station as Rory nudged Murray awake. They stepped off the train and walked to the multi-story carpark. Once in the car, Rory checked under his seat. His weapons were still there. Rory started the engine and drove as Murray navigated them out of Edinburgh through early morning traffic. The journey to Torness Power Station took forty-five minutes through the Lothian countryside. Hedgerows edged the road and flat fields lay either side of them, skirted to their left by a rolling coastline. Farmers busy bringing in their harvests blocked the road occasionally with mobile farm equipment, so different from the horse-drawn methods they used in the Community.
Once at the power station’s office, they parked the car, got out and walked in through the glass doors, passing the security guard on their way to the desk.
“Oh, hello. I have something for you.” The young woman at the reception, wearing a blouse buttoned up except for the top two, leaned under the desk and brought out two large plastic bags and passed them over to Rory. “My boss told me to give you these.”
“Thank you, miss,” Rory said to the receptionist, then lifted his eyebrows at the security guard while he and Murray walked out of the building.
“These won’t fit in our backpacks, but we can shove them in the pods with us. It will be tight. We’ll hug them.” Rory walked as he rummaged in the bag he held.
“I think I’ve got yours.” Murray held the bag open in front of him.
“They’re both the same size. What makes you say that?”
“I’m sure the odds are against Sarah’s phone number being meant for me.”
THE DRIVE BACK TO INVERCHARING was long and slow. The traffic travelling the other way was even heavier than on their journey down; car after car, and bus after bus.
“Must be the tourists heading home after sniffing trouble,” Rory commented.
When they arrived at Invercharing, the farmer was driving his tractor in his fields, bringing in hay as if there was nothing wrong in the world. They snuck past him and waited for the shimmering, which indicated the activation of the Time Machine.
It didn’t take long.
“You go first, I’ll keep watch.” Rory helped Murray into his pod with the bulky suit, and the book on how to drive a submarine tucked into his jacket, as there was no room for the backpack. “Leave it here.”
“It’s full of cash!”
“Does nae matter. The farmer will need it.”
Once Murray disappeared, Rory prepared. He had even less room in the pod than Murray, and he tossed the other backpack against the wall beside Murray’s.
The world went blurry, and then it went blank.
He stands at the Community’s gate, his Heckler & Koch submachine gun in his hand.
Ready.
The waves of headiness from his return from the past still echo within him.
The dogs’ barks are frantic.
Large solid-looking vehicles approach, army camouflage coloured.
Five of them head straight for the Compound’s gates.
A tank follows.
Each vehicle bears the Scottish Saltire—bright blue with a white diagonal cross.
The flags flap in the wind as the heavily armoured vehicles approach.
He stands with legs apart and braces himself for what is to come.
“Rory?” Christine’s voice accompanied the shaking of his shoulder. “He’s coming around.”
Rory opened his eyes. He lay on a trolley in the medical centre. A churning feeling bubbled in his mid-section. George, Murray, and his Aunt Bec were there, all wearing frowns.
“You okay, Rory?” Murray’s face came into view, his forehead a crease of furrows. “He’s been spacing-out while we were there, too.”
“I’m okay.” Rory’s voice sounded firm to his ears, belying the shaking in his gut. Those around him stood back and their expressions relaxed a fraction. “What happened?” He pushed the nausea away with a deep breath.
“You were unconscious when you came through.” Christine tightened the BP cuff around his arm. “All normal.” The ripping sound of the Velcro coming undone accompanied the release of pressure on his arm.
“Okay. I’m normal. The doctor says so. You can all go now. Thank you.” Rory raised his eyebrows and Murray left. “Really Christine, thank you.”
Rory watched Christine and George exit the room. Only Aunty Bec remained. He’d grown up in the medical care of this courtesy aunt, an old family friend. But more importantly to him at this moment, she knew him, and she was a truly honest woman.
“Please, don’t go,” he whispered.
Aunty Bec stopped mid-stride and returned to him. She took his hand in hers; arthritis deformed her aged hands. Her deep-brown eyes searched his; the rims of the pupils were a circle of white, while her mostly grey hair stood wildly around her face. Aunty Bec was the only one he could talk to now.
She glanced at the door as it closed.
“What’s wrong, son?”
Rory took in a deep, shaky breath. Should he tell her?
Should he tell anyone?
She’d take it the best.
“I think I’m going mad.”
“No, Rory.” Aunty Bec’s smile was gentle as she shook her head. Her fingers were cool on his hand, but her stare pierced his soul. “You’re the sanest man I know. And the bravest. So like your father.” She let out a sigh. “You’re the only one game enough to travel through the unknown—twice.”
His heart warmed at the compliment and the obvious love behind it.
“I keep seeing things.”
“You think they are hallucinations?”
“Aunty, they are so real, it’s like I’m there, doing it.” Rory’s mind briefly returned to his dream the other night. The dream that wasn’t a dream. He swallowed. “I... it’s like I’m reliving things from the past.” He looked at his hand, covered now by both of hers. “Like Dad’s death.” He swallowed. “Even things from my childhood. Like how I felt them when I was a child. I saw Dad young. He was great...I miss him!” Rory’s shoulders shook, and his throat tightened.
No, he wasn’t going to cry.
He took in a steadying breath.
“I see things that haven’t happened, but maybe they will.”
“You mean visions?” Aunty Bec tilted her head, her eyes still locked onto his face, searching. She opened her mouth to speak, but then paused.
Go on, say it. Please tell me I’m not mad. Or, get it over and done with, and tell me I am.
“Rory, you’ve gone back in time and returned to the present—twice. As far as we know, no one else has ever done it.”
Rory blinked.
“Who knows what effect it’s had on you.”
“Aye, madness!”
“No, son.” Aunty Bec hesitated once more. “I’m not speaking as a doctor or a scientist now. I’m speaking with my intuition.” She gave a gentle nod. “It’s possible your journey through time has given you the ability to see time. The past...and even the future. Time, perhaps, has become fractured for you, in a sense.”
He had no thoughts at first...just blank. Then...
“Nothing I have seen that wasn’t the past, has come true.” A thought hit him like a shock wave. “But what if it does?” He jumped off the trolley and released his hands from her grip.
“Rory, where are you going?”
“I need to speak to George. We’re about to be attacked.”
Chapter 12
The Invercharing Community
Rory stood at the gate. He’d hastily put on his SAPI vest and held his HK light machine gun in front of him. Behind him stood his crew. George had mobilised the other Militia who were placing themselves strategically around the compound and at certain shielded points outside it.
It could only be the Government coming with such heavily armoured vehicles. There were
men with private armies, but none so well equipped around here, and none with tanks. And if it was the Government, and they discovered the existence of The Time Machine, it would be the last the Invercharing Community ever saw of it.
“George!” He called over the one man he could trust with this issue.
“Aye.” George held a submachine gun.
“I need you to round up the Chief Council and my family and order them to no’ say a word about The Time Machine, on pain of death if you have to!” he whispered hoarsely into George’s ear.
George blinked. “Aye. Okay, Rory. Consider it done.” He disappeared into the main building.
Rory hated taking a good soldier from the front but, as the Time Machine was secret knowledge, he could only use a man privy to it to do the job. He hated giving George, his senior, an order.
Rory and the Militia stared at their valley and the empty road in front of them. The quiet high mountains were sentinels beside them. A damp sweat built up on Rory’s forehead as his heart gradually increased its rate.
He was being stupid.
The dogs tied at the gate stood with ears pricked, then started to bark their early warning, and a cry from the tower beside the gate chased away any feelings of stupidity.
“There’s five armoured vehicles and a tank, Mr Campbell,” the watchman on the tower shouted down to him.
Rory gripped his HK as his chest thudded. His faithful crew surrounded him—armed and ready.
“Nobody fires anything without my signal. Got it?” He yelled so all could hear and waited until all had answered.
Rory faced the vehicles approaching along the rough road toward the Community Compound. The Saltire fluttered from each one.
Rory tightened his jaw and his grip on his machine gun.
Stay calm, Rory. Determine their intent before you aim at anything. Your people are watching for your cue.
He let out a breath. The vehicles slowed and made their way to the gate; the heavy machine gun on the back of the jeep was unmanned. The tank stayed back.
The door of the lead vehicle opened, and Rory stood taller as a woman emerged. A man’s voice from inside the vehicle spoke loudly to her, the words a mumble to Rory’s ears.
She turned back in and said clearly, “I’ll explain.”
The door closed, and a tall, slim woman dressed in trousers with honey-blonde hair pulled back tight, approached the gate. She was unarmed. As she got closer, her features became clearer—deep-blue eyes and a fair complexion. Rory’s heart seemed to skip a beat.
She walked to the gate and stopped.
“Hello. My name is Siobhan Kensington-Wallace and we are from the Scottish Government. We need your assistance.” She smiled.
Rory remained silent, battling with his breathing, and trying to settle it and his pulse at the same time.
The woman was beautiful, spoke with a very well-educated English accent with just a hint of Scots, and, he guessed, she was in her forties.
Och, no. It could nae be.
But it was.
“Hello,” he said, trying to sound steady. “I’m Ruairidh Campbell. Second-in-command of the Invercharing Community’s Militia.” He’d said his name the Gaelic way. “What can I do for you?”
Rory wanted to say, do you remember me? But it would involve explaining The Time Machine and revealing its existence to the government. That wasn’t going to happen.
Not by him.
“May we come inside? Siobhan asked. “We have a mutual problem, I think.”
Rory nodded, and his feet began to move again. He signalled to the men at the gate to open it. So, the Government was here to help, not attack. Well, they’ll help, if they must, but he would make sure it was on the Community’s terms.
When the gate opened, he stepped through to her.
Up close she was even more beautiful—if that was at all possible.
“You must promise me you won’t use those weapons on us.” He looked at her face.
Aye, sapphire-blue eyes.
“And you, Mr Campbell, must promise the same.” The gruff order came from the man who now exited the vehicle. “Call your men off.” He wore army camouflage and looked military. He strode toward Rory with brown eyes that bored into his. Hate lived behind them. The centre of Rory’s chest constricted. His arms tensed.
“We’ll not use ours if you do the same.” Rory clenched his jaw, his cheek muscles tightened.
So, he had promised. This man had better do the same and keep his word.
Siobhan turned to the military man.
“Mr Campbell has kindly obliged. Now return the gesture, Antony,” she ordered the man.
Antony gestured, and the Government soldiers visibly relaxed. Especially the soldier who had made his way to the back of the jeep housing the heavy machine gun.
The military man’s glare remained on Rory.
Siobhan’s eyes flicked to him. “Introduce yourself, Antony.”
“I am Major Antony McLellan of the Scottish Defence Force.” McLellan gave a slight nod.
“Rory Campbell.” Rory was curt, but he was beginning to not like this man already. “What do you want?”
“May we come inside and talk?” Siobhan picked up the conversation. “We both have a problem. Well, Scotland has a problem and we need your—”
“A faulty nuclear warhead on a North Korean sub leaking radiation into Loch Ewe.” Rory enjoyed the shocked look on Major McLellan’s face and the expression of admiration on Siobhan’s.
“Well, then.” Siobhan glanced at McLellan. “Let’s pool our knowledge and resources and see how we can fix this.” She smiled at Rory.
He stood aside and indicated they were to enter the compound through the small side gate.
“What about our equipment?” McLellan demanded.
Rory glared briefly at him, then shouted to the guard. “Open up, please.”
The guards drew aside the two large wrought-iron gates, and the vehicles drove in, the doors of the heavily armoured vehicles opened, and Government men and women piled out.
“Where shall we set up our equipment?” McLellan stared at Rory. “Do you have electricity? Our computers need power.”
Siobhan turned to McLellan, a duffle bag in her hand. “The windmills aren’t for decoration, Antony.”
Rory looked closer at Siobhan. She had well and truly grown. She was smug and bossy and a wee bit arrogant.
What happened to the sweet wee lass?
“We’ll make space to set you up in the main hall.” Rory turned and bumped into Murray.
“Did you say computers?” Murray brushed past him and went to the men unloading equipment from the vehicles.
Murray watched as they brought box after box out of the vehicles, then trailed behind the men carrying them into the hall.
Rory followed into the hall, which they were making into a control centre. The men dragged tables and chairs, positioning them as they wished. Murray’s mouth gaped as they brought out laptops and opened them. Rory’s mouth curved; his brother was now in his element.
“It’s done. They’ve all promised,” George whispered into Rory’s ear from behind him. Rory gave an imperceptible nod, avoiding attracting their guests’ attention.
One of the Government’s technicians beckoned Murray. He was a young man with black hair, brown eyes, and medium-brown skin. He showed Murray the computer and began explaining things to him, often with a surprised expression as Murray rapidly understood and revealed his own knowledge. Maybe it would make up for Murray having to leave the university behind.
Rory sensed someone beside him once more.
“Mr Campbell. We are ready to meet with your leaders and discuss our plan of action.” Siobhan stood beside him, hands on hips, her manner authoritative; she was used to giving orders.
“Verra well, I will summon the Chief Council.” He strode away, uncomfortable at being bossed around.
At the door to the main hall, Rory spoke to Xian. “Please get all the
members of the Chief Council to come. Miss hyphen-hyphen wants to speak to them.” He flicked his chin in Siobhan’s direction.
The corner of Xian’s mouth tweaked, he raised an eyebrow, and left without a word.
Rory turned back to survey the proceedings.
Within ten minutes Angela entered the main hall, which was now full of Government personnel in military uniform. Technicians sat at tables with computers set up. Others had opened metal trunks and pulled out paperwork. On a larger table, a technical assistant opened an Ordnance Survey map and placed a silver compass on it.
Angela would be happy to see the Government; anything to do with bureaucracy and politics got her going. She was the youngest member of the Community’s Chief Council and she revelled in it. She’d been ambitious from the outset. Rory knew he would have to keep an eye on her.
Angela’s gaze ran over the Government personnel and every piece of equipment they’d brought. The rest of the Chief Council entered the makeshift control centre and introduced themselves to Major McLellan and Siobhan. Angela’s hand shook McLellan’s for a prolonged period; she gazed at him until she blinked and let go.
Take it easy, sister. No need to look so eager.
“Would you all like to come around this table where we have spread out the map?” Siobhan asked the members of the Chief Council.
They obediently arranged themselves around the table. Rory stood at the end of the oblong table and looked across at Siobhan and McLellan. McLellan shuffled next to George and darted glances at the members of the Chief Council who stood near him. He bristled when Mr Farquhar accidentally brushed his shoulder as he moved to take a place next to George.
Siobhan looked around, ensuring they had everyone’s attention, and flicked a glance Rory’s way.
“Thank you for your welcome. I know we can work together on this. It’s of vital importance to the safety of Scotland.” She swallowed. “We are well aware you know this part of our country better than any of us, and we would like some of your people to accompany us as we journey north to deal with this nuclear threat.”
Siobhan paused and scanned the group, she seemed to gauge people’s reactions. She then opened her mouth to speak but McLellan interrupted her.