Chapter Eleven
Getting a lift to the museum proved easier than expected. Carl said he had to go to the public library next to the museum, so he dropped them off and gave them some money for the bus home.
The boys wasted no time going to the Aviation hall of the 20th Century Exhibition. When they entered the room they were relieved to find that they were alone. Andy noticed two security cameras in the main part of the hall.
“We’ll never get away with it with all these cameras around,” he thought to himself as he and Tim walked down the hall.
Once they rounded the corner the Comet display lay in front of them. Andy had another look around.
“No security cameras, and out of sight of the main display,” he whispered to Tim. “It’s almost as if they want us to nick stuff from them.”
“Yeah, I thought that too,” Tim replied. “It’s kind of creepy.”
“Go back and look out for anyone while I get the diary.”
Tim went back and peeked around the corner. A few seconds later he gave Andy the thumbs up. Without wasting any time Andy slipped past the rope barriers and up to the mannequin.
“Hello again old chap,” he said in his best English accent. “May I borrow your diary again?”
He reached down to get it but it wasn’t there. He looked franticly around the display but couldn’t see it. He was starting to panic a little and could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that sooner or later someone would walk into the hall and they’d be caught.
“Perhaps I altered time and it was destroyed,” he said to himself. “Doesn’t matter, all I need is a key like Tim said.”
Andy cast another quick look around. Hanging over the edge of the wing of the Comet was the mannequin’s leather flying helmet. Andy had a look at it. It seemed to be the original helmet from the crash. It looked old and weather-beaten.
“This’ll do.”
He snatched it up and headed straight back to where Tim was peering around the corner. Tim sighed in relief when Andy tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and looked at the helmet.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s a flying helmet dumb-dumb,” said Andy.
“I know that,” Tim snapped. “So where’s the diary?”
Andy shrugged.
“No idea,” he said. “I had a good look for it but it’s not there.”
Tim had another look around the corner and then turned back to Andy.
“You left it behind in the back seat of the plane when it crashed. Perhaps your being there changed history a little bit.”
“You could be right, but I’ve got this flying hat now, so I’ll use it instead.”
He handed it to Tim who had a good look at it.
“Give it back to me and I’ll do it right now,” Andy said.
Tim handed the flying helmet back.
“Are you really sure you want to do this?” he asked.
Andy pulled the helmet over his head and fished in his pocket for the Talisman. He was speaking to Tim at the same time he was untangling the cord on the Talisman.
“To be totally honest with you, I’m really scared, but I caused the guy to crash so I’m going to try and help.”
He finally managed to straighten out the tangled cord and then had a look at the setting. It was correct so he wasted no time in putting his head through the loop of the cord. He looked up and smiled at Tim.
“See-ya,” he said.
Tim opened his mouth to say goodbye, but Andy had already gone.
The sensations were now becoming a little familiar to Andy and he managed to deal with them better. Andy couldn’t figure out how long it took. The trip seemed to last both an eternity and no time at all. Just as panic was starting to set in, the world snapped back into place.
He was lying face down on something damp. It was tickling his face and smelt familiar.
‘Grass!’ he thought.
He sat up to get a better look and whacked his head on something hard.
“Oww! Why is it I smack my head every time I do this?”
He looked up and was surprised to see he was lying under a truck. Moving a little more carefully, he wriggled over to the side of the truck and had a peek out.
He was not where he expected to be. Far from being on a deserted tropical island, he was on a very large airfield. The place was a hive of activity with dozens of men bustling about. The truck he was lying under was one of several petrol tankers parked on the grass. Not far away was a line up of about twenty small airplanes. They were all the same; silver coloured with two sets of wings, all with the same red, white and blue circles painted on them. Andy knew from his airplane books that these were bi-planes of Britain’s Royal Air Force.
“Well I think I’m in 1930-something by the looks of it, but I’m not on the island. I wonder if this is England.”
He turned and shuffled over to the rear of the truck and had another look. As he watched, he saw an airplane just touching down on the grass in front of him. It was a lot more modern that the others that Andy had just seen. He looked at this plane as it taxied towards where he was hiding.
Andy jumped in fright and whacked his head on the truck again as clapping broke out next to where he was hiding. A group of men were applauding the plane as it drew near.
“That’s the future of aviation,” said a grey haired man in a suit. “Eight guns, 350 miles per hour. Absolutely fantastic; the perfect maiden flight.”
The man next to him was in uniform. He had a huge moustache which made him look like a walrus.
“It’s a pity poor old Reg couldn’t be here to see it. What did he say when he found out what it’s going to be called?”
“What, you mean Spitfire?” the first man said.
“Yes.”
“He said ‘it’s just the sort of bloody silly name they would choose!’”
The two roared with laughter and slapped each other on the back. Andy tried to hear more but the noise of the approaching plane drowned the men out.
“That’s the original Spitfire!” he said to himself.
Andy was witnessing the first flight of one of the most famous airplanes of all time, but his thoughts were cut short by the coughing and wheezing coming from the engine of the old truck over him.
“Time to move.”
Andy rolled over to the other side of the truck and wriggled out just as the gears graunched and the truck lurched off. After standing up and dusting himself off, Andy moved over to another truck and peeked around the cab. In front of him was another sleek looking plane, but nothing like the Spitfire. Next to the plane was a large old car. It was dark green and had no roof, just two tiny windscreens. The door was open and sticking out of the car were two legs.
Andy walked forward. He didn’t know why, but something was telling him to go closer. As he did so, he could hear the man grumbling and growling. It was obvious he was searching for something and that he was not happy. Andy stopped not far behind the man and listened.
“Where the blazes is it? I can’t leave without it.”
The man carried on searching for a few minutes then gave up and started to extract his tall frame from under the seats of the car.
“Oh well, I’ll have to get another. Perhaps old Mutt Summers over there will lend me one.”
He wriggled out of the car and stood up dusting himself off, then stopped when he saw Andy in front of him. The two stared, summing each other up.
At first Andy had thought he’d found his missing aviator, but after a moment he could see that this man was a little older and bigger than the one he’d seen before. As he stared, he could see the man’s expression changing from bewilderment to anger. He pointed at Andy.
“You! Boy! What the blazes are you doing wearing my flying helmet? More to the point, how did you get it?”
There was menace in his voice and Andy didn’t like the sound of it. He started to back off a little. The man took a few steps towards Andy and then
reached out to grab him. Andy dodged him and turned.
“Hey! Don’t you try and run from Archie Spencer-Brown. Give me that helmet back!”
Andy didn’t wait. He was off and running. He could hear the man behind him. He ducked around the back of a tanker truck and found himself running towards the group standing by the Spitfire.
“Ha, got you now!” came the angry voice behind him. “Oi, you chaps, stop that intruder!”
The men by the Spitfire looked up at the yelling and were obviously surprised by what looked like a small man in a flying helmet being chased by another yelling. Several of them broke from the group and started running toward Andy. Some of them even pulled pistols.
“Spy, saboteur, Nazi!” they yelled.
Andy broke right and headed back towards the tanker trucks. There were probably a dozen men after him now, all intent on doing him harm. He ducked around the side of a tanker and stopped. All there was in front of him was a large paddock and empty space. He’d get run down or shot before he got far.
“Time to go,” he said as he took the flying helmet off. “Use the key to get here, loose the key to get home.”
Andy could hear the men running around the back of the truck he was hiding behind. He threw the helmet down and was gone before it hit the ground.
His mind was still back at the airfield when the pain and light returned. Whilst still uncomfortable he was better prepared for the sensations racing through his mind. The scenes of his life were on playback, some repeating themselves over and over. He felt a sudden drop and found himself sitting on a cold floor.
“You alright mate?” asked Tim looking concerned. “Didn’t it work?”
Andy blinked a few times to focus then looked up at Tim. He looked very pale and worried.
“I’m OK,” he said. “How long was I gone?”
“Only about ten minutes. That flyinghelmet re-appeared in the place you took it from just as you returned”
“That’s funny. I was at an airfield in England in 1936 for about ten minutes. I saw the Spitfire land after its first flight.”
Tim looked blank. He wasn’t an airplane buff and had no idea what a Spitfire was. Andy could see he was lost and filled in the gap for him.
“The Spitfire was a famous British fighter plane from World War II.”
“So you weren’t at the lost island then?” Tim asked.
“No, it was strange too, because I saw the crashed pilot’s brother.”
“Where,” said Tim. “At the airfield?”
“Yes, he was getting ready to go flying himself and was searching in his car for his flying helmet. He turned round and saw me with the one I had on and said it was his.”
“What happened then?”
“He and the guys watching the Spitfire chased me round the airfield. Some of them even had guns!”
“So you ran for it then?”
“Yep. Ran around the back of a truck, threw the hat down then, wham, I’m back here.”
“I’m glad you’re back. Let’s get out of here and go home.”
Andy turned and went back to the display.
“I’ve got to get that helmet so we can use it again,” he called over his shoulder.
Tim was nervous and fidgeting.
“Just be quick about it,” he said.
Andy hopped over the ropes and snatched up the helmet, but as he slipped it under his jacket the screen at the front of the display caught his attention.
“What are you doing now?” Tim called. “Do you want us to get caught? Come on!”
Andy didn’t reply; he was engrossed in what he was reading. Curiosity got the better of Tim, so he trotted over to have a closer look. Andy pointed at the screen.
“Look at this,” he said.
Tim read the paragraph.
In a sad footnote to this story, Mr Spencer-Brown’s brother Archie, also a noted aviator and World War 1 hero died in an aircraft crash in the Swiss Alps on the 8th of March 1936 whilst flying to Singapore to search for his brother.
He turned to Andy and shrugged.
“So?” he said.
Andy frowned at Tim.
“What do you mean ‘so’? I’ll tell you what has happened. I caused brother number one to crash in my first trip and now brother number two is also going to die; all because of me!”
“So what are you going to do?”
Andy pulled the helmet out from under his jacket and waved it in front of Tim’s face.
“This has come back,” he said. “I don’t know why it came back when the diary didn’t but it has; so I’m going to use this helmet to go back to 1936 and tell him I know where his brother is and how long he has to live. Hopefully he’ll avoid crashing in the Swiss Alps and find his brother, so I won’t be responsible for either of their deaths.”
Tim nodded then turned to leave.
“OK,” he said. “Just put that helmet away and we’ll get out of here. I can’t help feeling we’re being watched. It’s creeping me out.”
As the boys left the hall they passed an aircraft display. Andy stopped and pointed at a large model plane.
“That’s a Spitfire,” he said. “That’s what I saw flying.”
“Oh. OK,” said Tim who wasn’t really interested, but he stopped to look anyway.
Tim read about the Spitfire for a few minutes. Then, without an explanation, he ran back round the corner to the Comet display. Andy stayed put, wondering what Tim was up to when he returned with a smug look on his face.
“What’ve you been doing?” he asked.
“What’s the date today?” Tim replied.
“Fifth of March. Why?”
Tim pointed at the Spitfire display.
“Because it says there that the Spitfire first flew on the 5th of March 1936; exactly seventy three years ago today! Also how many days ago did you last use the Talisman?
“Eight.”
“Yes and the younger Spencer-Brown crashed his plane eight days before the flight of the Spitfire.”
Andy looked unimpressed.
“So what’s your point?” he said.
Tim looked at Andy like he was stupid.
“Can’t you see? If what it says on that display is correct, you’ve got three days to save the older brother and a little under five weeks to save the other one on the island!”
“Only three days.” Andy said. “I thought I’d have longer.”
A group of people entered the hall. Tim tugged on Andy’s jacket.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here and we’ll discuss it back at my place.”
The boys slipped past the new arrivals and out of the hall. They left the museum and caught the bus to Tim’s house. After a bite to eat they went back down to the garden shed to discuss the Talisman.
“How are you going to convince this guy you are who you say you are?” Tim asked. “Last time he saw you he called you a thief and you nearly got shot.”
Andy thought about it for a minute then spoke.
“I guess I’ll have to take some modern technology with me to prove I’m from the future. Problem is, I don’t own any.”
There was silence for a minute then Tim sighed.
“I guess you can take that old laptop my dad has in the spare room and I’ll lend you my music player. We can load up a whole lot of historical stuff, including whatever we can find about Archie and Edmond Spencer-Brown. That should back you up. When do you want to go?”
Andy looked out the window. Outside the sky had turned grey and black clouds were rolling towards them. He could hear the occasional raindrop on the tin roof of the shed. He turned back to Tim and gave him a weak smile.
“The weather’s bad so I may as well do it as soon as we can.”
The joke fell flat. Tim smiled to be polite because he knew Andy was scared.
“I’ll ask if you can stay tonight as well and we’ll dump all the old stuff off the laptop and get as much information as we can onto it.”
The boys went ba
ck up to the house. Tim’s parents were going out for the evening and his grandmother was going to baby-sit. The boys excused themselves and went looking for the laptop. It was ancient by their standards, but state of the art for the 20th century.
Back in Tim’s room Tim started deleting all the old files from the computer while Andy found a site on the internet which gave them most of the information they needed on both Archie and Edmond Spencer-Brown.
Tim’s Gran called them down to dinner. Afterwards the boys and Lauren cleaned up while Gran checked her Lotto ticket on TV. Lauren went into the lounge to sit with Gran while the boys excused themselves and went back to Tim’s room.
It took the boys most of the night to transfer information from Tim’s computer to the ancient and cranky old laptop. They had files for current maps and charts showing the location of the island that Edmond Spencer-Brown was marooned on along with a map of the area from 1936. Tim also loaded information on significant events and inventions of the 20th Century and the biographical page on Archie and Edmond Spencer-Brown that Andy had found.
“That one should get his attention,” Tim said as the last page loaded up onto the laptop. “He may appreciate being warned about being killed in two days”
Andy leaned over Tim’s shoulder looking at the list of files he’d loaded and smiled.
“You’ve done a good job, man.”
“Yeah but just be careful what you show him,” Tim said looking up from the screen. “Reading this guy’s biography worries me. Too much information about the future is dangerous and he sounds like a bit of a spoilt, rich prat.”
Andy had also read Archie Spencer-Brown’s biography and he agreed with Tim. The man had been a young hero of the Royal Flying Corps during the first World War, but something had happened in the late 1920s and he was forced to leave the Royal Air Force. After that he had followed a path of self destruction with fast cars, motorcycles, airplanes and parties. Like his brother he had made some remarkable flights, but his ego led to more failures than success. By 1936 he had used up nearly all of his money and there were rumours that he was broke when he died.
“Don’t worry, I’ll only show this guy what I need to convince him. Is the battery charged?”
“Yes it is, but I’ll leave it on charge overnight. There’s a power cord to go with it as well, but I don’t know if it’ll be any good.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know what sort of plugs they use or what voltage they have in 1936 England.”
“Good point,” Andy said. “I guess I’ll have to use it as little as possible. Can you print out some of those maps in case that old laptop dies?”
Tim printed out the maps and a few other pages the boys thought Andy may need. Not long after that Tim’s Gran put her head around the door.
“Timmy, Andrew, have a shower and off to bed now please.”
Andy smiled at Tim’s pet name.
“You go first Timmy,” he said.
“Shut up,” Tim grumbled. “Only Gran still calls me that.”
An hour or so later the boys were in bed. The room was silent except for the faint noise of traffic outside. Andy was trying to sleep, but the enormity of what he planned to do played over and over in his head. He lay in the dark with his eyes open, unable to see anything except the small red light on the computer charger blinking.
“Andy, you awake?” Tim asked.
“Man you scared me. Yeah I’m awake.”
“What if you don’t come back? What do I say if you vanish?”
Andy thought about it for a minute.
“Tell you what. I’ll write a letter and put it in an envelope. I’ll say I’m running away because I’m sick of my mother who doesn’t give a stuff about me and being at a school where no one likes me. You slip it into my locker and when it’s found you can tell everyone we had a fight and I threatened to go. Everyone will believe that and it’ll take the heat off you.”
“OK,” Tim said. “Night Andy.”
“Goodnight.”
Andy lay in bed and composed the letter in his head. He couldn’t sleep, so he sat up and looked at the alarm clock by Tim’s bed. It was one-thirty a.m.
“May as well get up and write that letter now.”
He went over to Tim’s desk and turned on the reading light, and then he quietly fished around in the drawers for a paper and pen. The words came slowly at first and then they started to flow. Three pages later he was finished. He started to read the letter but fell asleep, face down on the desk.
Tim woke at just after eight am and found Andy still asleep, slumped over the desk. He left him there and went down for breakfast. Andy followed about half an hour later. He was rubbing his neck and had a red blotch on his forehead when it had been resting on the desk. He looked terrible.
“Bad night eh?” asked Tim.
“Yeah, awful,” said Andy. “I wrote that letter we talked about. It’s on your desk.”
“OK,” Tim said.
He looked around and then leaned closer to Andy.
“You still want to do this?”
Andy was picking at his cereal.
“Don’t see that I’ve got a choice. If I don’t, two men will die because I played with something I shouldn’t have.”
“When do you want to do it then?”
“I’ll have a shower and get dressed. After that I suppose.”
Andy tried to eat, but his stomach had other ideas so he went upstairs and got ready. Tim’s Gran had washed and dried his clothes overnight which was a pleasant surprise.
“Never travel with dirty undies,” he said to himself as he got dressed.
He packed the laptop and other items in his school bag and went downstairs. Tim was waiting in the kitchen trying to look calm but making a bad job of it.
“Come on, let’s go,” he said to Tim. “Bye Gran, thanks for washing my clothes!” he yelled to Tim’s Gran.
“Bye Andrew,” she called back. “Timmy, where are you going?”
“I’m just going to walk with Andy to the bus,” Tim called.
“Alright, then. Come straight back after please.”
“OK. Bye,” Tim called.
The boys went out the drive and walked around the block to the Nova River. Heading back up the river they stopped behind Tim’s back gate. Tim took a peek and seeing no one about, they slipped into the yard and ran over to the shed.
Inside the shed Andy took the flying helmet out of his school bag and put it on his head, then picked up the Talisman.
“Why do you have to put the Talisman over your head? Why doesn’t it work when you just pick it up?” asked Tim.
“I don’t know,” snapped Andy. “I didn’t get the number for ‘0900 Time Travel Devices Are Us,’ when I found it!”
“OK grumpy,” Tim said a little hurt.
Andy stopped and looked at Tim.
“Sorry man, I’m a bit scared.”
Tim shrugged it off.
“Fair enough,” he said. “Well, good luck.”
“Cheers. Thanks for your help too,” said Andy as he slipped that Talisman over his head.
“That’s O... oh he’s gone,” Tim said.