Orange magic. Agent Orange, thought Chevie, hearing the penny drop at last. Now I get it.
“Listen, kid. If this Garrick person does exist, and he is stuck on the other end of the orange magic, there is no way in heaven he’s going to show up here. Understand?”
The boy’s odd eyes grew no less wide or wild. “No way in heaven, but perhaps a way in hell.”
Chevie snorted. “You Victorians are pretty melodramatic, aren’t you? What’s your name, kid? I can’t go on calling you kid all day.”
“I am called Riley,” said the boy.
“Something Riley? Or Riley Something?”
Riley shrugged. “I don’t know this, Agent Savano. Garrick never knew either. One name was all that was needed. The note left with me simply read, ‘This is Riley, a waif in need. Look after him.’ I was on the point of being boiled up by cannibals when he found me. Killed the bunch of them, he did, made the last one chew on a hunk of his own leg as a lesson.”
“I am totally not liking this Death, magician, one-name calling, alleged time-traveler killer.”
Riley sighed. This lady was not giving Garrick his due, but how could she? Garrick was a unique creature, and his wrath could not be appreciated without being seen or experienced. Riley would have to grind a plan from his own brain, and perhaps distract his captor for a moment to buy time to think. Riley raised himself a little and nodded at a tattoo on Agent Savano’s bicep.
“What is this arrowhead marking, Agent? Are you a sailor?”
Chevie tapped the blue mark. “This is the Chevron, and I was named for it; but that’s a story for another day, when I visit you in prison, maybe.”
The lady had not fallen for his ruse.
“I am innocent, miss . . . Agent. You must let me go.”
Chevie stood up, twirling the chair under her palm. “I’ll have to get back to you on that, once I review the video. I’ll bring you some McDonald’s in an hour. Until then, don’t go anywhere, time traveler.”
Riley watched the door close, thinking, Time traveler?
And, What is a video?
And, Why would she bring me Scotsmen? What help would that be?
The hazmat team was unlike any hazardous materials team that Chevie had ever seen. There was no sign of the white virus overalls, or wi-vi suits as the federales had nicknamed them; instead the four agents were dressed in what looked like synthetic rubber, and they seemed pretty ripped for a science squad.
Chevie jogged along the basement corridor to Agent Smart, who was strapping a crossbow across his chest.
“What are these guys? Chemistry ninjas? And why are you bringing that bow?”
“So many questions, Agent Savano.”
“Yeah, well I’ve been a little out of the loop around here. Nobody mentioned time-traveling witness protection even once before today. Now everyone’s jumping into the past except me.”
“You don’t have hazardous materials training, Chevie. This squad does, plus they have serious combat skills, too. As for our outfits and equipment, our clothes are hemp-based and will biodegrade in the open air, and the weapons are high-end design but not too sci-fi for the locals, should we meet any. We go back, clean up, and beam home. And if something does get left behind in the field, then there’s no domino effect.”
“With respect to the . . . er . . . domino effect, why don’t you go back a little early and rescue your father? Now that you have his Timekey and know exactly where he was.”
Agent Smart shook his head. “You didn’t read the entire file, did you, Chevie? Wormholes are a constant length to the nanosecond. Think of them like straws; you move the front and the back moves too. So, if an hour has passed here, then an hour has passed there. This particular wormhole measures just under a hundred and twenty years, so that’s how far we’re going back.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Not long. Ten minutes, tops. Any more than that and we’re dead, and you’re to shut this thing down, dismantle the pod, and go home to California.”
“Way to think positive, Agent. What are we going to tell the fire brigade this time?”
Smart pulled a full face mask over his head. “Not a problem. I’ve powered up the dampers; no blackouts this trip.”
Chevie surveyed the time squad, clad head to toe in padded black body armor, bristling with blades and bows.
“You guys look futuristic, even with the old hardware. What happens if you get caught before the hemp melts? The boy, Riley, swears there’s some kind of magical killer back there.”
Smart’s voice was muffled by the filter over his mouth. “Ah, yes. The bogeyman. It’s classic transference, Savano. Blame Mr. Nobody. Even if there is some Fagin person back there, I think my boys can handle him.”
Chevie thought so too. These guys looked like they could take down a small country.
“What if there’s an earthquake, and your boys are stuck in the rubble?”
“Well, that’s what the red button is for, though these suits have been in storage for fifteen years, so I hope the mercury switches still work.”
This statement brought the gravity of the situation home.
“Self-destruct?” said Chevie. “You are kidding me? This isn’t an episode of The Twilight Zone.”
Agent Smart’s shoulders jerked as he chuckled. “Yes, it is, Chevie. That’s exactly what it is.”
Chevie did not chuckle; she had a sense of humor, but selfdestruct jokes were not to her taste.
“So I gotta just twiddle my thumbs here while you machonerds are off straightening time dominoes?”
Smart froze. “Macho-nerds? Straightening time dominoes? Do you know something, Agent Savano? I think you have grasped the essence of what’s going on here, and I never really thought you would. Some people’s biggest muscle is in their trigger finger, but you have held it together admirably during this stressful time, and without shooting a single person.”
Chevie stared. Was Smart taking the time to make fun of her? Or was he simply a robot?
“Are you sure you should be heading up this operation? Maybe I should relieve you?”
Suddenly the four ninja-nerds pulled their sidearms from holsters on the coat hanger.
“Don’t say the R word, Chevie,” advised Felix. “This mission is pretty important. Nobody wants to end up not existing because my father polluted the timeline.”
Chevie backed down not one inch. “Yeah,
well, you tell your boys that when they get back, I’ll see them in the gym, two at a time.”
The hazmat team lowered their guns, gazing at Chevie, heads cocked in surprise, like lions challenged by a little mouse.
“They don’t say much, your lab buddies.”
Smart opened a series of laptops on a metal table; thick cables flopped onto the floor from the rear of the computer bank and wound their way across to the WARP pod. He quickly tapped in long code sequences.
“That’s why I like them, Agent. They just do their jobs, no small talk.”
The laptops were old and chunky, with raised letters on the keyboards that glowed green and were not in the usual qwerty order. Chevie tapped one casing, to check whether it was actually wooden.
Smart slapped her hand away. “Don’t poke the equipment, Agent,” he admonished. “This stuff is ancient alternative tech. We don’t even have the parts to repair this anymore.” “Shoot, I got some wood in my room.”
Smart ignored her comment and continued his systems check. As he typed, the pod shook itself awake, vibrating and venting steam like a very old fridge. The banks of square lights flickered in complicated patterns, and the fat power lines buzzed with barely contained megawatts of electricity. In spots, the rubber melted, exposing fizzing wires.
The entire setup reminded Chevie of old sci-fi series she had seen on cable reruns.
This is how people thought the future would look on last-century TV. Cheap and flashy.
Laser beams shot out from several nodes on the pod, connecting to form a lattice around the ship.
Lasers? thought Chevie. It’s a time machine, all right. I feel like I’m going back to the seventies.
It took several minutes for the WARP pod to warm up. It shrugged, coughed, and hummed into life, six electric motors clattering into action at its base. Chevie was quite glad that she was not among the group waiting to step into its belly to be dematerialized. Eventually the pod hovered maybe half an inch above its trailer and the various lights flashed in perfect harmony, except for the ones that popped and crackled.
“Okay,” shouted Smart above the electrical din. “We have ninety-seven percent stability. That’s good enough.”