The Time Hunters and the Box of Eternity (2 page)

‘
Don
’
t be thick. The fact
he
’
s time
travelling means he can pinpoint to the second when he gets here. No, something
is definitely wrong…
’

As the hours passed, Becky felt consumed with fear. Where was Uncle
Percy? When was Uncle Percy? And what could she do about finding him?
 
She phoned Bowen Hall repeatedly, but
abandoned the idea when Maria
’
s words became little more than incomprehensible howls, punctuated
by great stuttering breaths.

It was six in the evening when a somber looking Mrs Mellor lowered a
bubbling lasagne onto the kitchen table.
‘
Come on,
’
she said softly.
‘
I know you
’
re worried, but you
should both try and eat something.
’

‘
I
’
m not hungry,
’
Becky replied.

‘
Me neither,
’
Joe agreed.

Becky was about to ask if she could be excused when the most
wonderful idea burst into her head. She knew exactly what to do!

Uncle Percy registered his trips with GITT (The Global Institute for
Time Travel) precisely for situations like this. If only she could contact
Annabel, the GITT receptionist, then she could find out exactly where and when
he was. She also recalled Uncle Percy had mentioned a highly trained division
within GITT called
‘
Trackers
’
that specialised in rescuing travellers in distress.

She leapt up excitedly and seized her phone when a number of things
happened at once: a terracotta vase sat on the fridge rattled violently; the
back door swung open as if struck by a fierce gust of wind; and a ball of light
appeared, bright against the starless sky, above the oak tree that filled the
garden.

Panicking, Becky glanced out of the window.

She knew precisely what was going on.

The light swelled
–
crackling and fizzing
–
as thin torrents of electrical charge shot out, coiling round
the tree
’
s
branches like shimmering silver ringlets. Then
–
CRACK
–
a whip-like noise
split the night.

Then silence.

Becky didn
’
t know whether to laugh or cry. She raced outside and stopped dead
in her tracks, struggling to grasp the astonishing sight before her. Perched in
the tree
’
s
branches, like a gigantic bird
’
s nest, was a green and white Volkswagen campervan.

Time crashed to a standstill.

Only when Becky heard a high-pitched squeak from behind, did she
tumble back to reality. Blood froze in her veins. She turned quickly to see
Joe, his head cupped firmly in his hands, and to his left, her mother, her
mouth opened so wide it nearly touched her knees.
 

Mrs Mellor had seen everything.

Chapter 3

Memorasing Mum

Horrified, Becky
’
s eyes flicked from her mother to the campervan and back again. Then
the campervan
’
s door opened and Uncle Percy leaned out, waving cheerfully.
‘
Good -
’
He glanced up at the
coal-black sky, before shifting his gaze to the bewildered group.
‘
- Evening, everyone…
’

Becky stood there, unable to find a reply.

Uncle Percy climbed out. As he did his foot caught on a branch and,
before he could stop himself, he plunged forward, landing face down with a
splat
in a puddle of mud.

Becky forgot about her mother and rushed to his side.
‘
Uncle Percy?
’

Uncle Percy pulled a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and
dabbed his face clean.
‘
How awfully embarrassing!
’
he said with a grin.
‘
How are you, Becky?
’

She was about to reply when she noticed his long silver hair was
matted with blood.
‘
You
’
re bleeding.
’

‘
Oh, it looks worse
than it is. Had a bit of an incident at Mammoth Gorge.
’
Uncle Percy stood up
and flattened out the creases in his suit. He waved at Mrs Mellor and Joe.
‘
Hello, Catherine.
Hello, Joe. Sorry I
’
m tad late.
’

Mrs Mellor
’
s jaw had now dropped so far it threatened to fall off altogether.

Uncle Percy straightened his tie and patted down his hair in a vague
attempt to look presentable.
‘
I do hope it
’
s still the right day.
’
He whispered in Becky
’
s ear.
‘
It is, isn
’
t it?
’

‘
Yes,
’
Becky replied.

‘
Good,
’
Uncle Percy said.
‘
Gosh, Catherine, I bet
you
’
re
wondering what on earth is going on, aren
’
t you?
’

Mrs Mellor gave a slow, shaky nod of the head.

‘
Okay,
’
Uncle Percy said.
‘
The thing is … I
’
m a time traveller.
And Becky and Joe - well, I suppose they are, too.
’

‘
What are you doing?
’
Becky gasped, before
being silenced by a shake of Uncle Percy
’
s head.

 
‘
Becky and Joe
discovered my little secret when they visited in the summer. In fact, they
caught me performing some rather crude dentistry on my Sabre-tooth tiger,
Milly, and I couldn
’
t really talk myself out of that one.
’
He chuckled.
‘
Anyway, we had a jolly fine time, visiting
Ancient Greece, finding the Golden Fleece, meeting the Argonauts and
befriending a Minotaur named Edgar. Crikey, it was a fun adventure, wasn
’
t it?
’
He grinned at Becky
and Joe, who looked dumbstruck but forced a nod.

‘
Anyway, I
’
m telling you this
because I
’
ve
been on a trip today and was unfortunately involved in a Mastodon stampede. As
you can see from the state of Bertha, my time machine, it was
–
rather like a
Mastodon - somewhat hairy.
’

For the first time, Becky noticed that Bertha
’
s bodywork was a collage
of cavernous dents and scratches, much of the paintwork having been scraped
away.

‘
I believe the
Terriflexor Condenser has been damaged,
’
Uncle Percy continued,
‘
which would explain
why I
’
ve
returned to this Time Point and not the one intended.
 
It would also explain why I regrettably
materialised in a rather splendid oak tree.
’

‘
I-I don
’
t understand,
’
Mrs Mellor stammered.

‘
Of course you don
’
t, my dear woman. But
your face does look quite the picture. In fact, why don
’
t we preserve this
moment for prosperity?
’
With no warning, he produced what appeared to be a small digital
camera and -
click
–
took her picture. However, instead of the usual white flash, a
thick torrent of navy blue light shot from the lens, encircled her head like a
mist, and then faded away.

Becky gave a little squeal. Her mother had become as solid as
granite, her eyes vacant, her breathing thin and shallow.

‘
W-what have you done
to her?
’
Becky panted.

Uncle Percy flicked his hand dismissively.
‘
Oh, don
’
t worry, she
’
s been temporalised.
No biggie!
’

‘
No biggie?
’
Becky barked.
‘
You
’
ve frazzled her brain!
’

‘
This
–
is - so - cool,
’
Joe said, waving his
hand in front of his mother
’
s face, but not getting any reaction whatsoever.

‘
Oh, it
’
s hardly frazzled,
’
Uncle Percy assured
Becky.
‘
In
fact, it
’
s
perfectly safe. I
’
ll
Retemp
her in a bit and she won
’
t be any the wiser.
’

Becky wasn
’
t convinced, but knew Uncle Percy well enough to know he would never
harm anyone, especially not her mother.
‘
If you
’
re sure.
’

‘
I am,
’
Uncle Percy replied confidently.
‘
Anyway, I
’
d better repair Bertha
and straighten out this mess.
’
A moment later, he
’
d clambered up the tree and could be heard tinkering with the van
’
s control panel.

Then something else occurred to Becky.
‘
And will being temporalised
make her forget the last ten minutes?
’

‘
I
’
m afraid not.
’

‘
Then how will you
explain the campervan in a tree thingy?
’

‘
She
’
ll have to be
Memorased.
’

Becky felt a flush of panic.
‘
And what
’
s that?
’

‘
Oh, it
’
s nothing,
’
Uncle Percy said.
‘
I
’
ll use a close-range
Memoraser to send a nanowave into her archicortex, planting a timodifier that
’
ll remove short-term
recall for a specified period of time.
’

Becky sighed.
‘
Stop being - well …
you
, and remember I don
’
t speak geek. What
does that mean?
’

‘
It means she won
’
t remember any of it.
’
Uncle Percy frowned
at Joe.
‘
I
don
’
t
think you should be doing that, young man!
’

Becky looked over and saw that Joe had folded down Mrs Mellor
’
s bottom lip, inserted
two pebbles up her nose and stretched out her ears so she looked like a monkey.

‘
Oh, but Uncle Percy …
’
Joe
’
s eyes twinkled
mischievously.
‘
This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.
’

Becky snorted.
‘
So is death, and that
’
s precisely what
’
ll happen to you if she finds out you
’
ve done that.
’
She paused for a moment.
‘
On second thoughts,
let me get my phone and I
’
ll film it.
’

‘
I don
’
t think so,
’
Uncle Percy said.
‘
Joe, restore your
mother
’
s
dignity, please, or I
’
ll temporalise you and hang you from this tree like a Christmas
decoration.
’

Joe complied at once.

‘
Now, Bertha
’
s Terriflexor
Condenser is fixed, so let me find a quiet spot nearby to materialise and I
’
ll be back in two
ticks and half a jiffy.
’
Seconds later, the time machine had disappeared.

Five minutes passed before Becky heard Bertha pull up at the front
of the house. Racing to the door, she flung it open to see Uncle Percy, beaming
from ear to ear.
‘
Shall we start again?
’
he said, embracing her.
‘
Lovely to see you again, my dear.
’

‘
And you,
’
Becky replied,
returning the hug twofold.

‘
Now, shall we retemp
your mother before Joe does something we
’
ll all regret?
’
He strode through the hall, into the kitchen
and on to the patio. Then he stopped and gave a loud, exasperated sigh.

Mrs Mellor was stood there, as stiff as a board, her arms clamped to
her side, and a plant pot set upon her head like a lampshade; Joe
’
s eyes were fixed
innocently on the sky, as if the whole affair had nothing whatsoever to do with
him.

‘
That is not funny,
’
Uncle Percy said,
shaking his head, although Becky wasn
’
t entirely sure he meant it. He removed the
plant pot and scowled at Joe.
‘
Can you do something useful for a change and see if you have any
lemonade. It
’
ll help the retemping process.
’

‘
I
’
ll check,
’
Joe said, racing into
the kitchen.

Uncle Percy turned to Becky.
‘
Shall we get her inside?
’
At once, he hoisted
Mrs Mellor onto his shoulder like a roll of carpet and carried her into the
house. Entering the lounge, he propped her against the mantelpiece and took out
the Temporaliser. With a mixture of dismay and amusement, Becky watched her
mother sway slightly as Joe joined them, carrying a glass of dark brown liquid.

‘
We haven
’
t got any Lemonade,
’
he said, holding up
the glass.
‘
Will Dandelion and Burdock do?
’

‘
I don
’
t see why not,
’
Uncle Percy replied,
adjusting a large shiny dial on the Temporaliser.
‘
Now, we
’
ll have to retemp and
memorase her almost simultaneously.
’
And he produced what looked like a small black torch with a series
of numbers etched on its casing.
‘
I think a fifteen minute memorase should do the trick.
’
He trained the
Temporaliser on Mrs Mellor and -
click
–
a shimmering emerald haze surrounded her. At
the same time, he switched on the Memoraser. Humming lightly, it sent a narrow
ray of silvery light into her eyes. Uncle Percy gave a satisfied smile and
pocketed both gadgets.