No Other Story (2 page)

“That's weird,” said Teddy as he casually blew a small bubble with the stale gum he'd been gnawing on. Teddy was a habitual gum chewer and, though not widely publicized, at nine weeks, four days, six hours, and twenty-three minutes, he held the unofficial record for continually chewing something completely and utterly without flavor.

When the others looked up, they also saw what Teddy had determined to be weird. On most occasions, one wouldn't be terribly surprised to look up and see the moon, being that
up
is where the moon is normally located. However, this was the middle of the day.

Indeed, there are times when the moon shows itself during daylight hours, but usually only partially, and rather faintly at that. But this moon was bright and full and the sky surrounding it was dark, even though the sun shone brightly above. There were even a few flickering stars.

“You're right, Teddy,” said Ethan, his forehead wrinkled with confusion and concern. “That
is
weird.”

Teddy very much enjoyed being right (it didn't happen all that often), and he was looking forward to basking in the warm glow of rightness when an odd sound rose up from beyond a nearby hill. As it grew louder, it could soon be identified as drumming, and mixed with that drumming was the sound of a flute or a fife or some kind of a flute-fife combo.

“Sounds like a parade,” said Chip, squinting into the bright sun-moon-starlight.

In no time, it not only sounded like a parade, but looked like one as well when row after row of men came marching over the hill, led by three others on horseback. The men marched with rifles perched upon their shoulders. But these weren't just any rifles—the rifles the men carried appeared to be very new-looking antique rifles, and their uniforms bore a striking resemblance to those worn by soldiers of the American Revolution.

“Hmm,” said Teddy. “Not much of a parade. No floats, no clowns, no giant balloons shaped like SpongeBob.”

“Maybe they're on their way to join a bigger parade,” Chip offered.

“Yes,” said Penny hopefully. “Since we don't know the exact date, it's possible that it's July 4th and they're on their way to march in an Independence Day parade.”

“Could be,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “Either way, they've got to be going somewhere. Maybe they can help us find the nearest town.”

“Or some cotton candy,” said Teddy.

Pinky said nothing. This is just another advantage of having a psychic dog. If the dog growls, you know that danger is afoot. Likewise, a lack of growling will tell you that all is well, allowing you to save all that angst for times when there's actually something to worry about. “You kids go ahead,” said Ethan. “Professor Boxley and I will be along shortly.”

The soldiers marched quickly and with purpose, and catching them wasn't all that easy. Chip was the first to reach them, which was not surprising, being that he was a natural athlete and a formidable baseball pitcher who could throw the following pitches with great accuracy: sinker, slider, fastball, curveball, screwball, forkball, knuckleball, and forkleball (a wicked knuckleball-forkball combo).

“Excuse me,” shouted Chip over the sounds of drumming, fluting, and marching as he sidled up to one of the drummers at the rear of the regiment. The round-faced boy appeared to be no older than twelve, and Chip thought he looked tired, lugging around that heavy drum. Beads of sweat streamed down his face and clung to the tip of his nose. “Sorry to bother you.”

“No bother at all,” said the boy. “Name's Cheeks, on account of I got a chubby face. What's yours?”

“I'm Chip. I was just wondering where you're headed.”

“On our way to fight the Romans,” said Cheeks, taking care not to fall out of step with the rest of the marchers.

“Romans?” said Penny, who was quite athletic herself and had arrived on the scene just seconds after Chip. “I think you mean the British.”

“What I mean is what I said,” Cheeks remarked flatly. “Marched all day from Charlestown to intercept the Romans. Too much, if you ask me. I'm thinking of putting in for a transfer to a different regiment.”

“Well, if I were you, I would put in for a transfer to a different school,” said Penny. “One that teaches proper history.”

“No time for school,” said Cheeks. “Too busy fighting the Romans.”

“That's ridiculous,” Penny scoffed as Teddy ran up and immediately began admiring Cheeks's drum and the boy's proficiency with it, or at least how loudly he was able to bang on it.

“It's ridiculous all right,” said Cheeks. “All this fighting. And if it's not the Romans, it's the Huns.”

Penny practically fell over. “The Huns? You may think you're being funny, but you're actually proving yourself to be nothing more than an ignoramus.” Cheeks responded by giving Penny a rather dirty look.

“You shouldn't call people names,” said Teddy with a smack of his gum.

“You don't even know what it means,” snapped Penny.

“I do so,” Teddy shot back. “An ignoramus is … a type of dinosaur.”

“Amazing,” said Penny. “You're exactly right. You must be some kind of genius. Now, do you know what
sarcastic
means?”

“Nooo,” said Teddy sarcastically.

“Come on,” said Chip. “Don't you think you're being a little hard on him?”

Just because Penny was the owner of a genius-level IQ doesn't mean she wasn't wrong from time to time. This was one of those times. She sighed and placed her hand on Teddy's shoulder. “I'm sorry, Teddy. I'm sorry I lost my patience with you. But the sooner we find out where we are, the sooner we can find Mom.”

“I know,” said Teddy. “It's okay.”

Just then, a commotion rose up from the front of the ranks. There was much yelling, and the men quite suddenly stopped marching. This allowed Ethan and the professor to catch up to the others.

“What's going on?” asked Mr. Cheeseman. “Did you find out where they're headed?”

“The drummer told us they're on their way to fight the Romans,” said Chip.

“Romans?” echoed the professor. He stroked his bristly white mustache and his face took on a look of consternation.

The men on horseback barked out orders as the soldiers quickly formed two very long lines, one in front of the
other. They removed their rifles from their shoulders and began loading them with lead balls and powder.

Pinky growled, low and steadily.

“What's going on?” asked Teddy in his most panicky voice.

“I don't know,” said Penny, becoming anxious herself. “I can't see anything.”

“Vikings,” said Cheeks with a sigh of disgust. “Can you believe it?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I can't believe it,” said Penny. “In fact, if you told me the sky was blue, I'd get a second opinion.” But when she and the others looked beyond the soldiers to the horizon up ahead, they realized that Cheeks was right. Amassed along the crest of a nearby hill was a group of men, perhaps two hundred in number, dressed in animal skins and wearing helmets adorned with goat and steer horns. Like an angry mob, the unruly men assaulted the air with a wave of obscenities shouted in their ancient Viking dialect. They waved their swords, axes, and large, circular shields, and, though you should never judge a book by its cover, if these men were books, you can bet they could stink up a library real good. (Or a liberry, for that matter.)

“Well,” said Gravy-Face Roy. “Maybe it's Viking Independence Day too.”

“I don't like the looks of this,” said Mr. Cheeseman, who, like Professor Boxley, was beginning to suspect the worst.

“Tell me about it,” said Cheeks. “Looks like they got us
outnumbered, two to one. It ain't gonna be pretty, that's for sure.”

Of the two lines of soldiers, the line in front dropped to one knee on command from one of the horsemen, who drew his sword from its scabbard and thrust it skyward. The soldiers in the second line remained standing.

“Ready!” shouted the horseman, his sword gleaming in the sun- and moonlight. The soldiers in both lines placed the butts of their rifles against their shoulders.

“Aim!” In unison, they closed one eye and brought the other close to their gun sights. Though Ethan and his children had never before found themselves in the middle of a battle, they had all seen enough movies to know what came next. There was no such thing as “Ready! Aim! Dance!” or “Ready! Aim! Knit a sweater!” In battle there was only one thing that came next, and it definitely did seem as though a battle was about to break out. If it was merely a historical reenactment, it was not a very historically accurate one.

The Vikings let out a collective yell that raised the hair on the back of Teddy's neck and the cotton on the back of Gravy-Face Roy's. They took off running toward the soldiers, maniacally and without fear or reason. Teddy clung to his father's leg. Penny found Chip's hand and clenched it tightly. Pinky growled again and wedged herself between Ethan's ankles.

Then, just as the commanding officer was about to yell “Dance!”—wait, sorry. Just as he was about to yell “Fire!” a savage roar split the air. The once-fearless Vikings
stopped in their tracks. The horses flared their nostrils and reared up, nearly throwing their riders to the ground. Pinky growled and barked.

“Retreat!” yelled the commander of the minutemen.

The Viking leader must have yelled something similar, because, just as quickly as they had appeared, the smelly-looking warriors turned and ran back the way they had come, while the soldiers took off in the opposite direction.

“Better run too,” said Cheeks. “Unless you wanna be lunch. Trust me. Those things are awfully nasty creatures.”

The Cheesemans and the professor wanted to run, but they were awestruck to the point of paralysis by what they saw next. With another deafening roar, an enormous prehistoric beast, its teeth glistening with saliva in the sun-moon-starlight, emerged from behind the tree line.

“I don't believe it,” said the professor.

“It's a dinosaur,” said Chip.

“It's an ignoramus,” said Teddy.

The dinosaur, with a brain the size of a grapefruit, may very well have been an ignoramus, but it was also a Tyrannosaurus rex. Ethan and the others watched helplessly as the enormous beast lumbered over to the LVR-ZX and gave it a good sniff.

The humongous animal was apparently in need of a meal and, upon a second look, some serious dental work. It goes without saying this was the first T. rex that Mr. Cheeseman and the others had ever encountered in person. However, they had seen plenty of pictures in books and
reconstructed specimens in museums, and this was the only one they'd seen with such a severe overbite. That's right—this particular T. rex had buckteeth. And not just buckteeth—gnarled, snarled, misaligned, nasty-looking buckteeth that shot out in all directions. Imagine, if you will, a picket fence after a hurricane.

Its unfortunate dental work made the dinosaur look like a dimwit, or, if you prefer, an ignoramus. But was it as stupid as it looked? The creature answered the question by kicking at the LVR-ZX, then, perhaps mistaking the egg-shaped vessel for an egg-shaped egg, opened its snaggletoothed mouth and clamped its massive jaws around the time machine's metallic outer shell.

“Oh no,” whispered Penny. “Should we try to stop him?”

“How?” asked Chip. “Look at the size of him. He's like a gas station with teeth.”

“He's like a gas station with really
bad
teeth,” said Teddy.

With a heart-sinking, hope-dashing crunch, the LVR-ZX collapsed under the pressure of the dopey-looking animal's massive jaws. When this failed to bring the desired result (a dinosaur-egg omelet, one can only assume), the T. rex dropped the machine to the ground and began stomping it with its gigantic feet, until the LVR-ZX was as flat as a garbage-can lid. The battered time machine was now about as useful as a tennis racket at a banjo recital. (If you've ever been to a banjo recital, you know exactly what I mean; if you've never been to a banjo recital, consider yourself lucky.)

Ethan stood with his mouth agape. His face had lost all color. “I was afraid of this,” he said. “It looks as though we're in Some Times.”

“Yes,” agreed the professor. “And it looks as though we're here permanently.”

In late June of 1776, Thomas Jefferson completed his first draft of the Declaration of Independence. He was then ordered to write a second draft when the Continental Congress found the first one to be “just plain not funny.” The much punchier second draft was adopted by Congress on July 4th, which just so happened to coincide perfectly with the young nation's annual fireworks display. And so, for the next seven years, England would wage war with the American colonists, a group of patriots lured to combat by the promise of freedom and triangular hats.

They engaged in many fierce battles, including the one at Bunker Hill, where Colonel William Prescott is said to have ordered, “Don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes.” The crafty redcoats handed the patriots a sound defeat by coming in squinting.

Eventually, as we all know, the Americans would emerge victorious, in part because they did not have to worry about Romans, Huns, Vikings, dinosaurs, Vikings riding on
dinosaurs, or dinosaurs riding on Vikings. They did not have to worry because, at that time, none of those things existed. It is a scientific fact that humans did not live in the time of dinosaurs, and it's a good thing, because dinosaur names are so long that, by the time one human warned another that one of these creatures was sneaking up behind him, that person would be what dinosaurs commonly referred to as a
tasty snack treat
.