“May-Rose had an intellect that deified belief,” Jimmy answered. “She would have factored spatial adjustments into her calculations. “I image we’ll end up somewhere remote. Somewhere unlikely to have a shopping centre built over it years from now.”
“God, she did a good job on this.” Simon entered some final numbers into a keyboard on the side of the Machine. “There. As far as I can tell, it’s now set to transport us to an unknown location in 2028◦– twenty one years from now.”
“Let’s hope it’s Barbados, man. I’m sorely needin a week aff.”
Simon flipped a switch and, like an eye opening, a shimmering blue oval appeared in the centre of the room.
“I don’t know how long this thing will stay functional,” he urged. “Which lunatic’s going to be first?”
The children stared apprehensively at the pulsating fissure. Dave stuck out his pigeon chest.
“Jimmy, Simon. See yous on the ither side. I’ll get the tea on. C’mon Barn.” He grabbed the large boy abruptly by the collar and pulled him through the hole. It rippled like an upright pond and grew calm again.
“Holy hell.”
Madrid tapped Jimmy on the arm. “You ready kid?”
“Don’t call me kid.” Jimmy Hicks squared his shoulders. “Look. Just in case we don’t make it, I have to know. Why did you come back? You weren’t aware of this Machine and you were sure you couldn’t save us. So why?”
Madrid chewed her lip, thinking. Finally she spoke, though she still wouldn’t look at the boy.
“You came back for the people you cared about when the sirens went off, despite the cost.” She gave a wistful smile. “I couldn’t do less. Besides, I wasn’t going to lose my first love without putting up a hell of a fight.”
She leaned forwards, as if to kiss him and then recoiled, shaking her head. The mask of indifference that covered her vulnerability slipped back on.
“I have a weird idea.” Simon said suddenly. “What if I send Leslie forty one years into the future instead?” He pointed to Jimmy. “You go twenty one years into the future, age normally and, twenty years later, when Leslie appears, you’ll be the same age..”
“You can do that?”
“Sure. May-Rose made this thing simpler to set than an alarm clock.”
Jimmy clasped his hands together and turned to Madrid.
“What? Would you? I mean….” He shook his head, lost for words.
“Makes no difference to me where I end up or when.” Madrid shrugged. “I’d say my career in the army was pretty much over. And my life was hardly a barrel of laughs.”
“Then I’ll be at the Ranger Station just outside Pinewood. Christmas day, two o clock 2060.” Jimmy gave a grin. “Nothing ever changes in the highlands. It’ll still be there, I bet.”
“You stood me up last time.”
“Boy, you certainly know how to hold a grudge.”
“Jimmy this is ridiculous,” Madrid protested.
“It’s a date.” The boy held up his hand to deter further argument. “See you later Simon. Much later.”
He winked at Madrid.
“Two o clock, 2060. I know how bad your memory is, but I’ll be there.” Before the woman could object, he stepped into the portal and vanished.
“Jesus.” Madrid clasped a hand to her forehead. “I don’t believe this is happening.”
“Hey. Earth to Madrid.” Simon was already back fiddling with the Machine. “I got a question. How did Cruickshank manage to send you back in time so accurately? He’s smart but not in the same league as May-Rose.”
“He had something to aim at.” Madrid sat down and began looking at the girl’s notes. “The little transmitter Jimmy gave him was still in the pocket of the lab coat he dropped outside the fence when he ran from Pinewood. He knew it was there and he homed in on that. That’s why we couldn’t arrive any earlier.”
“Of course.” Simon wiped sweaty hands on his jeans. “Right. You go through, and I’ll calibrate the Machine back to the way it was, step into the hole and join the others.”
Madrid took a last look round. May-Rose lay between Sherman and Monk, dwarfed by the men, hands folded over her chest. Then a thought struck her.
“Hold on a second.”
“What is it?”
“This place is going to blow up in a few minutes and the blast destroys acres of land.” She indicated the shimmering blue oval. “If the Machine is still on, the explosion will follow you through the hole. None of you will get far enough away to survive the blast.”
“I know.” The boy came over and took the notes from Madrid. “I imagine that May-Rose had conditioned Doctor Monk to stay behind and switch off the Machine.”
“But there’s nobody alive to do it now.”
“Oh, there is,” Simon said brightly. “Me.”
And he shoved Madrid with all his strength.
With a surprised yelp, she staggered backwards and vanished into the portal. May-Rose’s time travel notes wafted down like paper doves and drifted gently to the floor.
Simon gave them a sorrowful kick.
“There goes my Nobel Prize,” he said in a small voice. “But nobody should have ever built this. Now or in the future.”
He switched off the Machine.
Simon made his way up the scorched stairs to the top level. It contained a dozen virtual simulation rooms, high enough to have escaped the worst effects of the fire. The boy entered one and punched in 1234 into the wall console.
“Run virtual simulation 24.12.19. Christmas Party for the Pinewood Gang,” he said.
The room was suddenly transformed. It was now the kids’ dormitory, but not the way it had looked that morning. In the centre of the room stood a beautiful Christmas tree, at least six feet high, decorated with old fashioned wooden ornaments, wrapped in thick tinsel strands and dotted with real candles in silver holders. There were brightly wrapped presents strewn around and paper lanterns hanging from the roof.
“Populate with simulated characters,” Simon commanded.
Jimmy and Leslie appeared, then Dave and Barn. Even Cruikshank and May Rose were there. All were laughing and joking, opening presents and pulling crackers. Jimmy waved to him, one arm round Leslie’s shoulder.
“Merry Christmas Simon!” he grinned.
“You too guys.” Simon sat down beside them and put on a paper hat.
“Merry Christmas, wherever you are.”
19.57
Nulce plunged through the trees, kicking up gouts of snow as he ran. A pall of smoke rose behind him, polluting the night sky, and he could smell it drifting over the forest like a sooty rag. He broke into a clearing, consulted his handcom and gave a grunt of satisfaction.
In the middle of this glade was the well, covered by a sheet of corrugated iron.
Sobbing with relief, Nulce trudged to the centre of the gap and found the black box they had left earlier. He brought out the sample of MR12, inserted it carefully into one of his gloves and placed the glove in the lead box. He punched in a security code to seal the box and slid the metal cover from the well. Taking a piece of rope, he lay down next to the lip, lowered the box to the bottom and let go.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a minuscule movement. He slowly turned his head.
A white mouse was watching him a few feet away, almost invisible against the snow. Nulce wouldn’t have spotted it if it hadn’t been for the red eyes. The tiny creature was quivering from head to foot and obviously dying from cold. It looked like a lab mouse but Nulce couldn’t see how that was possible. No tiny cage bred creature would have braved these conditions or gotten this far.