Time......... (Part 12)

Peter looked at Kevin.
"What's that noise?" he asked. A loud grating sound, and numerous yells echoed all around them.
"How am I supposed to now?" Kevin groaned. "I've never been in jail before."
"Neither have I," Peter replied. He put his ear to the wall and listened harder. "It's coming closer, whatever it is. In fact, I think it's in the cell right next to this one."
"Can you tell what it is?"
"Some kind of mechanical device, but I'm not sure - Kevin, you have good ears. See if you can figure it out."
"Okay," Kevin listened for a moment before exclaiming, "Great Galaxy! Someone's breaking down the door with a drill!"
"A drill? How could they -"
"In other words, they're trying to open it."
"But the guards - policemen - whatever! They wouldn't let them, would they?" Peter puzzled over it.
"No, unless you Earth-people are nuts."
"Thanks a lot. Can you hear anything else?"
"Yes. The drill stopped now, and -" Kevin strained to hear. "They're talking."
"And? What are they saying?"Peter asked eagerly.
"Something about - scallions?"
"What?"
"Oh, I see now!" Kevin said after a moment. "Somehow, these people got in here, and are releasing scallions."
"Releasing scallions?"
"Well, how should I know?"
"I wish I could hear myself."
"You doubt my ears?"
"Well, when it comes to scallions -" Peter paused. The drill had started on their own door. "We need to be quiet now."
"Yeah," Kevin gulped. "Who are they, and what will they do to us?"
The door swung open, and three men, dressed in tight-fitting, green clothes, rushed in. The stopped when they saw the two boys.
"You must have got the numbers wrong!" one of the men growled to the one next to him.
"Boss said number 46! I have the list to prove it!"
"Let me see that! Hmmm, 46 alright. But these boys - I don't remember them being a part of our gang."
"Boss never makes mistakes. Better bring them along."
Peter and Kevin were dragged up onto their feet and into the hall.
"The Scallions must be the name of a gang, then!" Kevin whispered to Peter. Peter nodded and pressed a finger to his lips.
"Pretend you knew that all along," Peter whispered back. "Pretend you are a part of the gang, and there less of a chance of them killing you."
Kevin gulped, and he tried to hide the fear on his face.
The gang traveled throughout the rest of the wing, opening certain doors, and bypassing others. It soon became apparent to the boys that this gang had organized a crusade to the jail, releasing all members that had been caught. The numbers of the rooms in which these members had been placed had been recorded on the slip of paper one of the men held.
Room 46 had obviously been either a typo, or the room had originally contained one of the gang who had been transported to a different place.
How the gang had got passed the guards was more than the boys knew - or wanted to know.
"Peter," Kevin whispered suddenly.
"What?"
"Look what I found," Kevin showed a ship-shod notebook to his friend. Papers hung out of it, and the funny scraps left behind from torn-out pages.
"Where did that come from?"
"That fat guy ahead of us. It fell out his pocket."
"Hide it well, Kevin! We must not loose it for anything!"
"Oh, I'll hide it, never you fear." He shoved it into one of his deep pockets.
"How will we get to the time machine?" Peter said as the thought struck him. "And where will the money come from to help us buy the metal we need for constructing more of them?"
"Great Galaxy! I never thought of that!" Kevin gasped.
"Look, maybe we can - oh, I don't know. We'll have to earn money somehow."
"Like faking I'm a movie actor?" Kevin grinned.
"That would definitely bring in money - if it worked," Peter agreed. By this time the gang had released the last of their gang, bringing their number from 10 to 30 or so. They left the jail in a hurry and piled into several pick-up trucks just outside. Peter and Kevin were separated in this ordeal.
"Hey, youngster! I don't remember you as part of the gang!" One of the men punched Peter on the shoulder.
"I'm - sort of new here," Peter replied.
"Yeah, I'll bet the size of the gang just about doubled in the time I've spent in the old lock-up. How many's in the group, now, huh?"
"Um, I haven't exactly had a chance to count -"
"Oh, yeah. That's always a difficult thing to do. Is old Smithy still running, or has Chief put him down?"
Peter forced a smile, and the man roared in laughter, presumably at memories of old Smithy. Then the man turned to one of the other men, and Peter sighed with relief.
"Maybe he'll leave me alone now," Peter thought. But the next moment -
"How's Maxamillia?"
"Um, fine, I guess."
"Mmm. Nice girl, she."
"Yes."
"Is Blacky still hanging around her?"
"Um, no. Phil is," Peter said desperately, and not exactly wisely.
"What! Phil! And I always thought him a nice fellow! Well, he won't be hanging around her for long!" the man sneered. He gritted his teeth and shook a large fist. Peter gulped and determined not to say anymore. He didn't have a need to speak anyhow, for the man was growling to himself moodily, dwelling on revengeful thoughts.
"Why is it that just when I think things can't get worse, they always do?" Peter thought.

Copyright - 9/17/2008 - Curious Cognitive Content (CCC)
Please do not reproduce without permission from the author(ess).