(Ishmael)
This wasn’t the first time I’d flashed between time points in the nude. It happens to the best of us. Back when I was a bit more of a socially outgoing member of the time traveling community it was a popular happy hour activity to trade stories of the most embarrassing place you’ve ended up au naturel. They call it pulling a Kyle Reese, or going the full Niffeneggar, or playing the not-so-invisible man.
It tends to happen more often to those who are new to the time traveling game. And more often to those whose method of time travel is inborn rather than tied to a device like a modified Delorean or a 19th century pocket watch. For the inborn, natural time traveler, it can take a while for the aura effect to set in to the extent that their clothing joins them on every jaunt. It can be hit and miss and the stories they tell are often hilarious.
My method is the watch. It’s a very powerful watch. Gramps had it fully loaded, fully charged, and thoroughly broken in by the time he passed it on to me. Usually, more than usually, pretty much every damn time, my clothes, come with. That is if I’m wearing any when I initiate the time jump. There have been a few moments when one thing led to another and I had to skidoo before I could make myself decent. It happens.
But this time? I don’t know how or why this happened.
Lizzabets and I were in Wal trying to figure out the quickest way out of Wal. Then Larry showed up with my watch, apparently as surprised as anyone that he had it. The kid wasn’t swift enough to have palmed it on purpose, and, like I’ve said before, the watch has its way of making sure it stays with me.
So, then, I had the watch in hand, and was trying to figure out just what the hell has gone on with its settings while it’s been away, when the local thugs gallery reappeared. I really didn’t want to be tied up to ritual human sacrifice Christmas tree for a third time, but I also didn’t want to abandon Lizzabits to the thugs. I was trying to see if there might be a way to widen the watch’s field enough for three people, when the shadowy figures from the ramparts decided it was time to be active participants.
I really hate to overuse the phrase robot monkey ninjas, but that’s really the best descriptor. They were at least partly robot, and monkey sized, and they definitely had the ninja skills. Gord, Lew and whatever other monosyllables the rest of Stokes’ crew hailed by were no match for these guys.
The weird part of it all, though, was that the monkeys were clearly protecting Larry. Like he was important or something.
It suddenly occurred to me in a way I had been consciously avoiding, that Larry must have some kind of destiny, some sort of principal role in the tangled unfolding of whatever this chain of events was that involved time cops, talking dinosaurs, robot monkey ninjas, and post-apocalyptic barbarian thugs. I admit that I was more than a bit jealous to realize that Larry just might actually be the hero of this story. Or, perhaps he was the damsel in distress.
In either case, the monkeys were going to bat for him. They formed a perimeter around Larry and Lizzabits, and then did the sort of acrobatic maneuver of the sort you’d expect to see in a cheerleading competition movie. They assembled themselves into a dome four monkeys high. And then the method kicked in. The monkeys were generating a time travel field within the dome.
Larry and Lizzabits were being escorted somewhen. And of course, because my method and Larry’s had been so annoyingly linked by the Orb some fifteen chapters back, I had no choice but to follow.
So there we were, full Niffeneggar in the middle of what they call the Great Time Barrier, a time point I had only ever heard about and never travelled to because, honestly, what’s the point? You can’t move forward, there’s nothing to bring back, and everything looks like a migraine.
The totality of the Time Barrier glowed that damned cerulean blue the CTCAHQ boys and girls love so much, a blue that shines with the seething intensity of a time jump that never quite ends. There was nothing really to see except the maddening, unending blue, and the tracers of white blood cells across our retinas. The only distinguishing features were the monkeys that periodically faded into and out of the background.
“Ishmael?” said Larry. “What happened to our clothes? Was it... was it the Greys? Are we on a UFO? Have I been anally probed?”
“If you have,” I said, “I had nothing to do with it.”
“At least it’s warm here,” said Lizzabits. “And I’ll thank the two of you to keep your eyes askance.”
“And I’d just like to apologize ahead of time,” said Larry. “There’s a bit of a breeze catching at a certain spot so, if I might appear to be at half-mast, it’s nothing personal. No offense.”
“None taken,” I said.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” said Larry.
“Ah,” said Lizzabits. “Maybe I should be taking offense, then, if that’s not personal.”
“Hey, babe,” said Larry, “this ‘eyes askance’ deal goes both ways so, dammit, don’t look. Unless, of course, you want to amend the deal.”
“Just what sort of deal do you propose?”
If I’d had a hose, I’d turn it on the two of them. As I was listening to their nonsense, a shape began to resolve itself in the impossible to judge distance. Something was moving in the blue. Something that was picking up speed.
“Holy shit,” said Larry. “Another dinosaur. Look at the size of it...”
I was trying to gauge the size of it for myself. It didn’t seem that big but, not having any reference points to compare it to, I decided to err on the side of caution.
“We’d better run for it,” I said.
Larry and Lizzabits got right on board with that plan, but not without some unnecessary whinging from Larry.
“Running’s only making my half-mast situation worse!”
“I swear to god, Larry, I do not need to hear about your ‘half-mast situation.’”
It turned out that running didn’t matter much. Our pursuer was much closer, and much smaller than I had imagined.
“Crap,” said Larry. “Another velociraptor.”
“You sure?” I asked, as the bipedal scavenger gained on us.
“Dead sure,” said Larry. “I’ve been running from these guys all day.”
I desperately scanned out surroundings for some kind of object I could use as a shield or weapon. There was nothing. In every direction, up, down, side to side, nothing distinguished itself from the solid sky blue background. Even the ground was blue. Although ground didn’t seem like the right word. Floor doesn’t do it justice, either. It was a surface, and we could run across it. Other than that, there weren’t any good descriptors for it other than ‘blue’. The place was like a low budget existential nightmare. The only things we knew we had for sure wer our own bodies and the prehistoric reptilian terror machine closing in on our asses.
Literally.
I, being older and not so much a runner as I am a plotter, schemer, and hider, couldn’t keep up with the pack in our impromptu foot race from the velociraptor. So, I was bringing up the rear, by virtue of shear inability to keep pace with the other two. And it wasn’t long before I felt something at my rear. The damned feathered dino was snapping at my buttocks.
That was enough. I stopped dead in my tracks. It wasn’t the most graceful of stops. In fact, to the outside observer, it may have looked like I’d involuntarily fallen. Even so, it was a finely calculated fall from which I rolled into a savage crouch on the strange blue not-floor of whenever the hell the Great Time Barrier was.
The velociraptor, with its finely honed lizard-bird reflexes, leaped into the air as to avoid collision.
That’s when I had the surprising fortune and good timing to make one of the most dubious decisions of my storied career. As the velociraptor’s feathered tail swept over me, I reached up and grabbed it.
Here’s a fun fact. Small scavenging dinosaurs apparently were not evolutionarily adapted to protect their tails from being grasped by opposable thumbed primates. Either that or this was the world’s dumbest velociraptor.
That I had been able to grab the dinosaur’s tail was surprising enough. That it was so easy maintain my grip once I had it blew my mind.
The velociraptor couldn’t believe it either. It flailed its legs and creepy, out-sized, terror claws against the not-floor trying to get purchase, trying to return to the chase of its primary target which, evidently, was not me. It took the velociraptor a moment to realize that now was the time for things to turn ugly.
Here’s a word of advice, to go with the earlier fun fact. If you ever find yourself in a situation where you’re considering engaging in unarmed combat with a dinosaur, don’t. Not even the small ones.
I sensed the change in the velociraptor’s attention as it ceased to pedal its legs. A distinct differentiation in intent was telegraphed by the change in tension in the muscles of the velociraptor’s tail. Things were about to get extra dangerous, and all I had to work with was my bare hands.
I pulled up from my crouch and yanked hard on the beast’s tail. Now, I’ve said before that this was a small dinosaur. In actuality, it was much smaller than the velociraptors Mr. Spielberg depicted in his loud and cinematically curious film. Your actual, real life velociraptor is about the same size as a goose. Having said that, you know how mean geese are? Now imagine an angry goose with teeth and crazy, bowel-shredding talons on their feet and you’ll have a good idea of how terrifying it is to have one of these guys by the tail.
I spun the dinosaur like I was an Olympic hammer thrower. Three times around, hoping the centrifugal force and the length of the critter’s tail would keep those thrashing talons far enough away from my soft tissues. It worked, at least for the short term. And if I could have kept spinning like that forever I would still be there, but on the fourth turn around my grip gave loose.
The writhing, butterball-sized mass of feathers, teeth, and talons flew a good twelve feet. Decent, but not far enough. I just hoped the little bugger was dizzier than I was.
I made it a few strides before my legs gave way. I felt for the watch. It was still with me, somehow, even though I didn’t have a pocket to put it in. I contemplated hitting the emergency default, which would get me and Larry out of danger. But would it take Lizzabits too? And did I really want to show up at CTCAHQ going the full Niffeneggar?
Not really. The Orb was near the top of the short list of people I absolutely never wanted seeing me naked.
But none of that whole chain of decision making process mattered. Before I knew it, Larry was taking a stand right between me and the velociraptor. Have I mentioned that Larry was starting to grow on me? Adrenaline does strange things to your mind, but I almost could have kissed the guy right then.
I pulled myself to my feet. There was no way you could count this as a fair fight. Let’s face it, naked humans are pretty pathetic. Our soft and squishy bits would be no match for the raptor’s sharp and stabby bits. But maybe it would think twice seeing that we outweighed and outnumbered it.
Apparently it didn’t think twice. As soon as the demon turkey recovered from its tumble, it turned toward us, flexing its terrible talons, emitting a soft, deranged kindergartner giggle.