by Mark Stewart
STEPPING FROM one-time zone to the next was instantaneous. The second Jake was through the time threshold door the bright flash disappeared. He looked about expecting to see party goers standing on a beach. The music was absent and there was definitely no sand under his feet. Jake was standing at the back row leaning on a seat in a large oval shaped room with few vacant seats. Jake slipped onto the seat he was leaning on and studied the room at length. Every person had their eyes trained on the tall thin man standing on a platform out the front. Behind the man, he spied a large white board. The man wearing a brown three-piece suit had finished writing and whirled around. His mouth was open, but he wasn’t talking.
The man was staring directly at where he saw the bright flash of light.
“What year is this?” whispered Jake.
The middle-aged man Jake was leaning into moved to the next seat. “Where did you come from?”
Jake eyeballed the area searching for an appropriate answer. He spied a tall man in a soldier’s uniform standing in front of a door. “I snuck in through the side exit.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“I was quick. What’s the date and who is the bloke in the suit and what’s he talking about?”
“What planet are you from?”
Jake sent him a stale look. “This isn’t 1999AD is it?”
The man leaned closer to Jake, whispering. “February 19th, 1942.”
Jake slid low in the seat. He wasn’t in the time zone he expected and he’d lost his time card. Without it, he was stuck in 1942. He was in a bind. He had to either create a time ruckus or wait it out for a Troglian to arrive and try to explain his way out of trouble. His eyes bulged. Not a good thought. TW Morgan would come too. He puffed his cheeks and sighed heavily. Either way, a Troglian knew. Surely if he didn’t change history too much he wouldn’t be severely reprimanded. He certainly didn’t fancy spending five years shifting ice in the Antarctic.
Jake’s remaining option was to connect with Jasmine. If she came before a Troglian they might be able to get back in 2245AD before Morgan and his mutt knew.
To help channel his thoughts to Jasmine, Jake closed his eyes to help block out the words the man at the front of the room was saying. Sweat broke out on his brow. He eventually sighed and opened his eyes. He couldn’t make the telepathic connection. There were too many distractions. What he needed was a quiet barren place for an easier connection.
In a heartbeat, he decided on which avenue to pursue.
The moment the lecture was over he’d talk to the bloke and cause a minor rift in time.
“Good morning,” greeted the man wearing the three piece suit. He closed his jaw and looked ready to begin his lecture. “If no one recognizes me I am Professor Charles Bradshaw. I have summoned you today to be involved in an important part of history. Gentlemen of the government, personnel of the military, I am excited to inform you time travel is possible.”
The Professor looked around the room at the shocked faces. The jaw of each person had dropped wide open. Jake was the only one who wore a smirk. For over ten seconds the room sounded graveyard quiet. A deafening roar like a volcano eruption shattered the silence. Laughter echoed off the walls. Feet stomped on the floorboards making the noise louder.
The Professor raised his eyebrows, viewing the carnage. His gaze finally settled on Jake. He stared directly at him as he tried to continue his lecture over the unrestrained noise.
“I believe one-day time travel could be more common than crossing the country by train.”
Laughter resumed throughout the room. Every person in the auditorium stood in unison. A mass exit followed. In minutes, the large room had been emptied. The red-faced Professor started stuffing papers in his black leather briefcase. When he spied Jake walking towards him out of the corner of his eye he stopped and stared.
“You’re the last to leave. Why?” asked Professor Bradshaw.
“I was interested in what you were saying.”
“At least someone was.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir.”
“I like the polite greeting. Tell me something, where did you come from? I remember the chair you were sitting in was vacant right before I began my lecture, the next, you were there.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Do tell.”
“Firstly, allow me to formally introduce myself. I’m Jake Ward,” he announced thrusting his hand out.
The two pressed the flesh. “I’m Professor Charles Bradshaw.”
“I know who you are. Let me start by saying your statue is a perfect likeness.”
“What statue?”
“It’s part of my tale.”
“I’m listening.”
“In my school studies, the only information I or anyone else could find out about you was that you discovered time travel. Sometime in 1942AD you vanished. Never to be seen or heard of again. In the year 2052AD your notes, the ones you are placing in your briefcase were found deep in the government archives. A man going by the name of The Keeper unraveled the information and built a time machine.”
“Don’t make me laugh.”
Jake raised his hands into the air. “On the morning of 19 February 1942, Darwin was bombed.”
“Son, I don’t know where you found your information. This is the date you just mentioned. I’m here, there’s no bombing.”
“So this room is in Darwin, on 19 February 1942?”
“Correct. Excuse me I want to go home,” said Bradshaw.
“My facts might be more convincing to you if I start with the formula on the whiteboard,” said Jake pointing.
“I’m going out on a limb here, but do you understand the mathematical equation?”
“I had to learn the formula by the time I turned eleven.”
The Professor looked down his nose at Jake. He grunted. “The equation is unique. There’s not a living soul on this planet except me who can understand it or what it represents.”
Jake sighed, looking at the whiteboard. “There is a total of two numbers and one letter in the middle of the one-metre long mathematical formula that is missing.”
The Professor stepped next to Jake. He watched the teenager place the missing part of the equation exactly where it was meant to be.
The Professor felt dumbfounded. His eyes rimmed with water the second Jake back stepped to view the formula.
“I deliberately left the middle section out. I had a feeling nobody would believe me, but just in case somebody stole it I left it incomplete.”
“Hold that thought,” said Jake. “I always get the end wrong. The small ‘p’ is supposed to be a capital.”
Professor Bradshaw faced the lad. “Who are you? Do you know what you’ve done?”
“More than you know,” said Jake. “I have changed history.”
Three men in suits came sprinting through the side door. They were marching towards the Professor military style. One of the three held a gun.
“Please, we must talk,” said the Professor.
“We sure do, but first, we have to get out of here,” whispered Jake.
“Don’t move,” the gatecrashers yelled. “Kid, find the exit door and leave this auditorium. Professor Charles Bradshaw, we are here to escort you out of this building.”
“What’s the meaning of this?”
Jake back stepped away from the group. He found a gap in the ceiling to floor black curtain directly behind the white board, burying himself.
Two of the men grabbed hold of Professor Bradshaw by the arms, applying severe pressure on his shoulders to make him walk whilst the third man scooped up his briefcase and started to walk towards a side door. At that precise moment, bombs started to fall.
Darwin was being attacked.
The whole building shook violently. Fires erupted from petrol storage tanks; planes buzzed the sky and a whizzing noise filled the air as more bombs were dropped from the bombers overhead.
“This is perfect timing,” gro
wled the man holding the gun. “Get Bradshaw out of here. Everyone who knows the man will think he died in the bombing. Take him to the insane institute and bring his briefcase. We’ll bury his notes in a government department. This day never happened.”
“What about the kid?”
“Leave him to the bombs. If he reports what happened here today, who’d believe him?”
On the way to the exit door, the professor was pushed and prodded to force him to keep moving. He was given a jab to the ribs for looking around the room for Jake. To stop his resistance at being arrested he was knocked unconscious.
The door was slammed shut, plunging the room into a deafening silence.
Jake peered through the narrow gap between the curtains. He spied a pinprick of light forming at the rear of the large auditorium. It quickly brightened to the shape and size of an arched doorway. He smiled and ventured back to the stage. Bounding up the stairs two at a time he greeted Jasmine the moment she stepped through the porthole. He gave her a friendly hug.
“Thanks for coming to my rescue. Standing behind the heavy curtain blocked out enough noise for what I hoped was a perfect connection between us.”
“Jake what on earth have you done?” Jasmine whispered.
“None of this is my fault. The unshaven man standing next to me in the Timeportation centre accidently pushed me through the wrong door. Blame him.”
“We have to get out of here. The Troglian’s will be on alert.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. Jasmine, there’s a problem. I lost my time card, that’s why I telepathically called you. I think my time card went through the doorway to 1999AD. Before I could confirm the fact, I lost my balance and was sucked through to 1942AD.”
“If your suspicions are correct, how long before your card is returned to 2245AD?” asked Jasmine, looking slightly worried.
“Twelve hours. If you didn’t come to my rescue, I was thinking along the lines of a time ruckus.”
“That’ll get TW Morgan and his Troglian here in double quick time. You don’t want that,” warned Jasmine.
“Are you positive? The idea of a time ruckus was my backup plan.”
Jasmine shook her head. “You have to take your chances with the law. They don’t like a messy timeline.”
“My time card was lost, I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“Trying to convince them of the fact is like extracting teeth without a laser drill,” said Jasmine. She eyed her brother suspiciously.
Jake’s eyebrows shot upwards. “I think it might be too late for your idea.”
“You haven’t created a time ruckus already?” Jasmine clicked her tongue at her brother’s blank expression.
“If we get back to our own time before the Troglian tracks us down, TW Morgan will have thought he’s gone off the rails. Furthermore if we arrive at the exact second my time card reappears, I’ll pick it up off the floor and they won’t know what happened.”
“That’s a lot of ifs,” said Jasmine, falling silent. “We’ll follow your backup plan. If that doesn’t work we’ll try to convince Morgan you were innocent. What’s first?”
“I have to convince the Professor to help me.”
“We,” said Jasmine. “We have to convince him to help us.” She glared at her brother. “Who are you talking about?”
Jake placed his arm over his sister’s shoulder, explaining every minuscule detail. The whole time she listened to his story, her head was shaking.
“Jazzy, to smooth over my decision to cause a time ruckus, I can now fill in parts of history that have eluded historians for centuries. Not to mention fill in the gaps to my term assignment. You and I are the only ones who know what actually happened to Professor Bradshaw and the original time machine papers.”
“I guess that should account for something? Where is he, I’d like to meet him?”
“The Professor has been kidnapped by the government to be locked away in an insane asylum. According to what we know of history he was never heard of again after today. His wife and family went missing too. History books say they were blown up in the bombing raid on Darwin.”
“Come on, we’ll have to find the man, help him escape and convince him to be on our side. Hopefully, we’ll have enough time to rescue his family.”
“We have to do it before T.W. Morgan and his Troglian arrive,” added Jake.
Jasmine was looking slightly skeptical at the plan. She checked her watch, counting the remaining hours when Jake tapped her on the shoulder.
“Punch up the tracker unit on your phone and don’t worry. There’s an Australian saying that used to be quoted centuries ago. I read it in a comic book.”
“If mum finds out you were goofing off instead of finishing your assignment she’ll force you to spend the rest of your holidays on the moon.”
Jake shuddered at the thought. “I don’t really care to mow the lawn around the thousands of golfers who want to hit a white ball from one crater to the next..”
“Imagine how far you could hit the ball if they hadn’t increased the gravity on the moon?”
Jake snorted. “It would be a long eighteen holes of golf.”
Jasmine rolled her eyes. “What’s the Australian saying you discovered?”
“She’ll be right. You wait and see. I bet you a seat on the next shuttle to mars everything will work out fine.”
“I fail to understand how anyone could think ‘she’ll be right,’ could be a good saying?” said Jasmine. “I deal in facts. To leave something to chance like a flip of a coin is not a good thing.”
Jake smirked at his sister. “It’s time to fire up the tracker unit.”
“Where’s yours?”
“I dropped it.”
“Brother, what would you do without me?”
“This wasn’t my idea. I wanted to see in the new millennium.”
“There’s always a next time,” said Jasmine, chuckling.
“Did you find a female Troglian pup?” asked Jake.
“No, but like I said, there’s always next time.”
“I wonder how I knew that was going to happen.”
Jasmine punched a few numbers on her pocket phone. The short antennae extended. She poked the end of the thin wire at the small table. “This will pick up Professor Bradshaw’s DNA. We’ll follow it, pick up his briefcase and spring him from the insane home.”
“Too easy,” blurted Jake.
“It would be if the unit didn’t have an almost flat battery,” said Jasmine, scrunching her nose at the flashing red light.
“You’re joking? Why didn’t you charge it before starting the trip?”
“I did. I used the DNA sensor tracker to help find my phantom Troglian pup.”
“Trogs are male.”
“I know. I altered the tracker to pick up on only female pups. If I found one I’d have enough credit to buy us ten weeks at Alpha Centauri.”
“Now there’s a party to end all parties,” exclaimed Jake. “Only the famous go to that planet.”
“A short thirty-six hour round trip and a full twenty-one days of relaxation before school started again. What a perfect way to end the summer vacation.”
“Sis, you’re one of a kind.”
“Who said you were going to come?”
“I thought the way you were sounding I was a sure bet.”
She smirked at her brother’s hurt expression. “If I ever find a female Troglian, I’ll shout you the round trip. That is if I don’t discover an more adequate offer.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“Jake, you’re only my brother. If a nice young man swung into my path, take no offence, I’d be chasing him.”
“I understand. I’d probably do the same.” Jake scratched the side of his temple. “Before your battery runs completely dry, do you want to start the sensor?”
Jasmine placed a small round metal disc in her ear. She then pressed the start button. A slow beep filled her inner ear. She swept the un
it back and forth in front of her to pick up the trail. “This way,” she announced pointing to the side door.
Jake scouted ahead watching for any military men. He slowly opened the door a few millimetres at a time. Sunlight filtered through the widening crack. The moment the sun hit the face of the sensor unit the battery started to recharge.
“The building adjacent to where we are standing seems to be our destination,” whispered Jasmine.
“An old-fashioned airport lies behind it,” reported Jake. “The Professor has probably been placed in a room waiting to be transported to the asylum.”
In the distance air raid sirens were wailing. The airport looked to be a buzz with military men. They swiped rifles from gun racks and were running to find something solid to hide behind. Each soldier pointed their rifles at the sky while men in flying uniforms were running towards the planes.
A guard wearing a military uniform looked across the road. His stare seemed to bore into Jake and Jasmine. They ducked behind a truck out of sight. Keeping low, they looked at the man from underneath the truck.
“The expression on the guard’s face says nothing will ever get past him,” said Jasmine pointing the handheld unit’s antenna at a window. She read the message being displayed on the glass panel of the phone. “The Professor is definitely in that building. His exact location is in the middle of the room behind the window we’re looking at.”
“How’s the battery?”
Jasmine studied the unit in the palm of her hand. “Fully charged; thanks to the sun.”
“It’s time to use the light distortion unit,” said Jake.
Jasmine commenced punching a series of buttons on the handheld unit’s glass front. They heard whispered hums and the two vanished.
Hearing a noise and thinking the two kids he’d been watching were crossing the dirt road, the guard started searching the area around the truck. He scratched the back of his head, puzzling over what had made the noise.
Jake and Jasmine hurried across the road. Squatting behind a medium sized bush directly under the window they watched the guard’s antics. Eventually, the man shrugged and recommenced his guard duties.
Panic stricken people swarmed out of their homes that fringed the airport. The peaceful morning was obliterated by the noise of bombs dropping on the Darwin CBD. House roofs collapsed, glass shop windows were blown away and fires roared to life. Behind the building a squadron of propeller-driven planes burst into the air to intercept the enemy planes.
Darwin was definitely under attack.
Jake looked in the window hoping to listen in on any muffled conversation. The only words he could make out were: Crazy man. Insane asylum. In seconds, the conversation was over. Army soldiers hurried out of the shoe box sized room, slamming the door and locking it.
“Now’s our chance,” whispered Jake.
Jasmine nodded, lifted her mobile phone and pointed it at the brickwork. “The laser cutter takes a whack of juice. Let’s hope the battery lasts.”
“It should. Even if it goes flat, the sun only takes two minutes to recharge the battery.”
Jasmine moved her arm in a slow precise circle large enough for a person to crawl through. “Helping the professor to escape will certainly bring the Trogs double quick time,” she added.
Watching for the guard’s return, Jake nodded.
In seconds, the laser cutter had done its job. A further few seconds ticked off before the hole was cool enough to crawl through.
The Professor was staring through bulging eyes, watching the two teenagers enter the room. “How?” his mumbles were a whisper at best.
Jake lifted his finger to his lips. Immediately the Professor fell silent.
Jasmine walked over to where he’d been tied to an uncomfortable metal seat.
“Jasmine, we have company,” Jake said, his ear against the door.
The same laser cutter that was used on the wall snapped the rope like it was chalk. Muffled footsteps stopped outside the door.
Jasmine didn’t have to be told twice. She pushed a button on the side of the phone. Jake slid across the room and under the chair.
The group of three vanished.
There was a click and the solid metal door was pushed open. Three armed guards walked in, followed by four more. At seeing the vacant seat, anger red swept their faces. They spied the hole in the wall and sprinted across the room. The man who seemed to be in charge pushed the rest of the group into action.
“Get after the man. We don’t want to have an insane scientist spreading rumours.”
Three of the soldiers sprinted through the open doorway. The last man slammed the door shut and locked it. The rest of the military group crawled through the hole. In seconds, the room had been plunged into silence.
Jasmine pressed the close button on her mobile phone. Instantly the three materialized.
“What just happened?” asked the Professor, calmly.
The deep crevasses on his brow gave away the fact bewilderment had pushed out the genius side of his brain.
Jake slapped the man on the shoulder. “We don’t have time for explanations. We have to leave. A Troglian is bound to be aware of our disappearance. Believe me, when I say I’d rather be chased by those guards than TW Morgan and his Troglian.”
“What’s a Troglian?”
“Everything will be explained when we are safely away from here,” said Jake and Jasmine in unison.
“Lead on, I don’t want to go another round at being the punching bag,” advised the Professor touching his tender black eye.
Jake walked to the only other piece of furniture in the room and snatched the Professor’s briefcase off the table. “Are all your notes in here?”
“Yes. Years of research and personal papers on the idea of time travel are in that bag.”
“Good. Jasmine, it’s time to go.”
“Go where?” questioned the Professor.
“Your place,” said Jasmine.
“Why go to my home and endanger my family? I’m positive the army will go straight there?”
Jake picked up on the idea. “That’s exactly why we have to beat them.”
“Before I crawl through the hole, I need an explanation,” moaned the Professor, pointing at the wall. “This supposed escape could be a setup.”
“Trust us,” said Jake. “I’ll explain everything when we arrive at your place. By the way, the girl you’re looking at is my sister, Jasmine.”
“It’s a real pleasure to meet you,” said the Professor.
“I apologize for Jake’s rough introduction, but we don’t have time for a lengthy conversation.”
On the outside of the hole, a buzzing noise could be heard. Jasmine pushed her head through the hole. Almost instantly she back stepped. “Jake, there’s a bee.”
He stared wide-eyed. “Not already?”
Jake hoisted the briefcase into the air, waiting for the bee to enter the room. He didn’t have to wait long. The bee flew through the hole, hovering above Jake’s head. He didn’t hesitate, swatting the bug using every ounce of strength he could muster. The small creature bounced off the side wall. Jake stooped, picked it up, placing it in his pocket.
“That didn’t look like a bee,’ announced the Professor. “The insect was too small and blue in colour.”
Jasmine gave the man a sterile glance. “You’re right. We’ll explain later. It’s time to go.”
CHAPTER THREE