The Indigo King - James A. Owen [15]
“This isn’t Magdalen,” said John. “I don’t know what it is. But I think that somehow, Hugo changed the past when he went through that door, and we’re seeing the result.”
“Hugo vanished an hour before this happened,” said Jack. “Why do you think it was he who caused this?”
“Because of how the doors worked in the Keep of Time,” said John. “The times we viewed through them only became kinetic when the threshold was crossed. I think Hugo set into motion whatever ‘past’ that door led to when he stepped through. The doorway, while open, kept it in flux and connected to our ‘now.’ But when the door closed …”
“Awwoooooo …,” Fred howled softly, putting his head in his paws. “I’m so sorry, Scowler John, Scowler Jack.”
“There now,” Uncas said, trying to comfort his son. “I’m in charge of the squad. It be my fault, not yours.”
The Unhistory 43
“It be—I mean, it is no one’s fault,” said John, as forcefully as he thought he could sound without rattling the badgers even further. “We shouldn’t place blame. But now we have to work together to find a way out of this mess. Are you with us?”
The badgers girded themselves up, wiping tears away with one paw while saluting with the other. “Th’ Royal Animal Rescue … uh, Team, is ready to serve, Master Scowlers.”
“Fine,” John said, turning to Jack. “The badgers stay with us.”
They made a quick accounting of what they had with them, and the list was scanty. Uncas had a coil of rope, a small hatchet, and a box of oyster crackers (“For real emergencies,” he said), while Fred had a remarkably large key ring, festooned with keys of all shapes and sizes, and his copy of the Little Whatsit. John had his Frog-in-a-Bonnet pocket watch and a small penknife. Jack had only an embroidered handkerchief and a few coins.
“So, other than the crackers, we’ve no food,” said John.
“What did you expect?” Jack exclaimed. “We were taking a walk on the college grounds within shouting distance of my own rooms. Why would I have laden my pockets with anything else, especially food?”
“Don’t worry about it,” John told him. “You’re right. There’s no way for us to have known. I just hate feeling so … so … unprepared.”
“At least we have the crackers,” said Jack.
“Um,” said Uncas, quickly brushing the crumbs out of his whiskers, “we did.”
“I thought those were for an emergency,” John exclaimed.
Uncas spread his paws and tipped his head back and forth in a matter-of-fact manner. “Seems t’ me this is an emergency.”
“We really should have some sort of Boy Scout kit,” said John. “An emergency preparedness sort of thing, for use just in case there’s a power outage, or an earthquake, or when one of our friends changes history and makes all the shops vanish.”
“I’m thinking I wish I’d brought a pie,” said Fred.
“I’m thinking I wish I’d brought more crackers,” said Uncas.
“I’m thinking I wish I’d brought the rum,” said Jack.
Carefully, and trying to stay alert to their surroundings, they began to make their way toward the dark tower, picking their way along the better maintained, passable parts of the path.
John and Jack each had the same thought: Apart from the eerie resemblance to the Shadowed Lands they had once freed, this tableaux was not entirely unfamiliar in another way. They had both seen—and smelled—places very similar, during their days as soldiers in the Great War. Uncas was right—the smell of death was everywhere.
Several hundred yards on, the path broadened out into an avenue that looked to be even more difficult to traverse, because of a large amount of debris that obstructed the roadway. Broken wheels, discarded carts, and half-burned boxes were scattered in large piles, nearly obscuring the fact that it was an intersection. On closer examination, Jack noted that there were great spider-webs strewn across the piles, clumped in some places, but completely clear of it in others.
“We sh-should go round, Master Jack,” said Uncas, the fear in his voice making him stutter.
“Agreed,” said Jack.
“No cars,” John observed. “Nothing modern whatsoever. No electricity,