Time......... (Part 13)

See past sections of this story here.

Frank licked his dry lips thoughtfully. Without Peter he was feeling rather lost. And he didn't realize how much Kevin had grown on him in the two days they had spent here together.
He wondered whether Peter had gotten to Earth safely, and where he had ended up landing. Probably in Africa. Frank had always wanted to go to Africa, so of course he would miss the opportunity. He felt a twinge of jealousy towards Peter, but the next moment he laughed at himself. Here he was in the middle of a different galaxy, wishing he was in a small section of land on the common-place Earth? But Earth wasn't common-place; it was home. And he was starting to miss home.
"What's the news?" he asked one of the men approaching him.
"Got another note from that Earth-geek."
"Who, the computer-hacker?" Frank laughed.
"Yup, who else?"
"What did he say?"
"That's confidential. Ask the leader."
"I've been wondering about something; why doesn't anyone know the leader's name? Why do they all call him 'leader'?"
"Oh, please! I'm sure I don't know," the man turned and walked away briskly. Frank reflected on the man's behavior. Everyone was that way when he asked a question. Maybe he asked too many....
He guessed the new password of the gate to the ITC, and entered the chamber to find the leader leisurely sitting at a table, drinking water and looking entirely stressed-out. He looked up in surprise as he saw Frank open.
"Oh, it's you again. You know, I can't keep changing that password."
"I'm sorry, sir. I wanted to ask a question."
"Well, things can't get much worse. Go ahead."
"Okay, so - wait a second!"
"What's wrong now?"
"You're drinking water?" Frank asked in a tone of disbelief.
"Um, yeah. We do have water here, you know."
"I knew that, but why don't you drink coffee instead? It would help handle stress better."
"Oh great! Now you're an advertiser! Just be so kind as to explain what coffee is," the leader said semi-sarcastically.
"You don't know what coffee is?" Frank cried in shock. "You've never heard of mocha? Or coffee beans? Oh, man! We've got to get Peter to bring some coffee back with him. I'm sure we could find some way to grow it here!"
"Anyways, about your question?" the leader said, a trifle annoyed.
"Oh, right. What was the note the hacker left?"
"Figure you'd ask that. We can't keep anything from you, can we?"
"Nope."
"Here, read it for yourself. I can't make head or tail out of it," the leader handed a slip of paper to him.
" 'From my calculations, you are located in a different universe and are therefore unable to be communicated to. My calculations are either wrong, or you are not real. Please clarify this for me,' " Frank read aloud. "Well this is nuts! This guy must be fancy with jokes or whatnot. Of course we exist! How else would he be getting answers from us!"
"We might be robots for all he knows."
"True," Frank puzzled over the note. "Have you responded?"
"No, I was hoping you might be able to."
"Why me?"
"Because you come from the same planet, you might understand each other better."
"I'm not so sure I understand him, though. But I can try."
"Good." The leader called a man over to help Frank with the computer.
Frank stared at the blank document nervously. What should he tell this hacker, or "Earth-geek"?

Edmund entered the house with a sigh. He pulled out the stack of homework and slapped it on the kitchen-counter in annoyance.
"What is it, dear?" his mother asked anxiously.
"This homework. Half of it is incredibly hard and due on Monday, and the rest of it is a bunch of dry articles I've got to read."
"You didn't used to find homework very hard," mom interjected.
"No, but as a year progresses, things gradually get more difficult."
"Gradually, yes. But not all at once!" mom protested. "You've been looking pale, too. Are you feeling sick?"
"No."
"Perhaps staying up late has made the sudden change," mom said slyly.
"Staying up late?" Edmund asked innocently.
"Yes, You haven't turned the light off until after midnight for the past week."
"Oh, that." Edmund grinned and left the kitchen. He sought refuge from more questions in his bedroom. The laptop was pulled out again, and he gazed at the screen intently. what strange document was this? This eyebrows raised in surprise as he read its contents.
We're not robots, you know. I'm Frank Liftun, and I'm stuck in Andromeda. Ever heard of me?
Edmund looked at the name again. He'd seen it somewhere. Where, though? Ah, the news! He pulled up another window and searched for the correct article.
Two boys, Peter Sperring, 16, and Frank Liftun, 15, mysteriously vanished from Mrs. and Mr. Greg Sperring's garage, sometime between noon and 4:00 P.M. on Monday. Police investigated scene and report that the only curious things they found were a hole in the roof, and a burned floor....
So that was where Frank Liftun came from. But what was this whole joke about him and Andromeda?
"There's something I'm just not getting," Edmund thought. But he wasn't going to give it up as some crazy joke; he was going to get to the bottom of it.

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

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).