Chevie knew the boy was right. She dragged the tarp, revealing the WARP pod underneath.
From upstairs: “Riley! You broke my leg.”
“That ain’t a happy man,” said Riley, pointing with his makeshift stake.
He grabbed another corner of the tarp with his free hand, and soon the pod was uncovered. “Make it work, Chevie.”
Riley decided to get the show on the road himself and began pounding buttons on the computers rigged up to the pod.
“No, no,” said Chevie, elbowing him out of the way. “You need this.” She took the Timekey from around her neck and slotted it into a computer drive on a console that was smaller than the one in Bedford Square.
Perhaps it will be too complicated, she half hoped. Maybe I won’t be able to fire it up.
No such luck: as soon as the Timekey clicked into place, the pod shuddered into life, expelling steam from various vents, setting the power lines humming. Damper barrels vibrated on the floor.
This one is smaller, realized Chevie. Version 2.0.
The Timekey activated a tiny screen with yellow graphics that wobbled every few seconds. The screen crackled.
That sounds like wires burning.
No. Don’t think about that. It’s just warming up. To confirm this thought, a little cartoon bird appeared on the screen. The bird was without feathers and shivering. A speech bubble popped out of his beak: I’m just warming up.
Chevie gave Riley a thumbs-up. “All systems go. No problems.”
Slowly the bird sprouted feathers. It seemed as though Charles Smart had had a sense of humor.
From the top of the stairway there came a meaty slap as something lurched across the entrance.
“Riley,” cried a rasping voice that seemed full of pain, both emotional and physical. “My son, no longer. My partner, never again.”
Four shots blasted chunks from the brick walls of the basement. A series of thumps and curses followed. If Garrick was sliding down the stairs, he would soon be able to take a clear shot at them.
“Get your old battered self down here,” called Riley, attempting bravado. “I have a nice sharp gift waiting for yer organs.”
Garrick fired another shot in reply and fragments of brick stung Chevie’s cheek.
This is like Star Wars, thought Chevie. We’re the rebel base and Garrick is the Death Star.
The bird sprouted more feathers.
“Chevron? Agent, hurry,” said Riley urgently.
“Coming.” Chevie fought the urge to slap the alt-tech computer. “Get into the pod.”
“Inside?”
“Yes. Get in.”
Riley did not like the idea of backing himself into an even smaller corner, but the only way out was in.
Legs flashed by on the pavement outside. More thumps on the stairs. Chevie thought she saw a scrabbling hand out of the corner of her eye.
“Riley! You cannot escape me.”
In the pod, Riley sat on the bench, hands clenched on his knees.
The bird was fully clothed in feathers now, and the speech bubble said: i am all warmed up.
Then the bird disappeared, and a menu began loading on screen.
“Yeah, yeah, what are my options?” shouted Chevie, as though that could speed up the ancient computer.
There were two choices: systems check or activate wormhole.
She selected activate wormhole and, after a few fizzling seconds of nothing much, the familiar corona of orange light bloomed inside the pod.
“No!” came a voice from the stairs. “I forbid it!”
Two shots plowed into the concrete floor, throwing up sharp chips.
Almost in his sights, thought Chevie, and she realized that she would have to run the gauntlet to reach the pod herself. For two seconds Garrick would have a clear shot.
The longer I wait, the sooner he shoots me.
Chevie was prompted to remove her key, and the bird reappeared with a countdown in his speech bubble. Thirty seconds. Chevie had half a minute to get herself into the past.
Thirty seconds. No time to think.
“Run!” called Riley from inside the orange glow. “Run!”
She did, diving the last few feet into the belly of the pod. She noticed immediately how cold it was in there. Freezing. Her breath burst from her in clouds, then crystallized immediately. There was frost on Riley’s hair and brows.
“When do we go?” he asked. “Why are we still here?”
Chevie did not answer, just turned to face the pod’s doorway. Through the orange light she could see Garrick dragging himself down the stairs like a corpse that refused to lie down and die.
“Infernal time machine!” declared Riley, striking the bench. “Let us away!”
Garrick’s head was cocked and his skeletal face pointed their way. From the depths of sunken sockets, his eyes were locked on them, beaming malevolence into the pod.