ABACUS (8 page)

Chapter 10: Counting the Seconds

This is your captain again,” announced the pilot. “We're now number two in line and will be pushing back shortly. Please turn off all electronic equipment. Once again, I apologize for the delay. Our flying time to Boston today will be seven hours twenty minutes, so we'll be setting you down at the gate shortly after 3 p.m. local time. Sit back, relax, and enjoy your flight. Cabin crew, prepare for takeoff.”

Uncle Miles's affairs had be
en settled and the Littletons were on their way home.

“Going through security was scary,” whispered AP once they were airborne. “I was sure they'd check my knapsack after it'd gone through the x-ray scanner.”

“So the abacus didn't show on their screen?” asked Kate.

“I guess not, but it must be full of electronics. I wonder who built it?”

“Maybe the hooded guy,” suggested Kate. “He said we had something that belonged to him.”

“But that doesn't mean he built the thing.”

They had gone over their medieval journey many times, but found no answers. One thing was certain—their recollections were identical so everything really did happen.

Kate popped in her ear buds. And while she listened to music, AP took another look at the device.

When he turned on the map, it showed the British Isles and the eastern part of North America. The blinking red dot was moving toward the Atlantic.

“Look at this,” he said, nudging Kate's arm. “You can see the position of our aircraft.”

“Cool. How does it do that?”

“How does it do any of it?” AP marveled.

Just then, Kate remembered the pilot's warning. “Quick, turn it off!” she gasped. “It'll mess with the airplane's equipment.”

“I'll only be a second—I just want to copy down that equation.”

AP stared at the numbers: s = 2,551,442.9s. What did it mean? Then he had an idea.

“Maybe s is the usual abbreviation for second,” he thought. “We were away from one full moon to the next—how many seconds in a month?”

Pulling out his calculator, he found that twenty-eight days was 2,419,200 seconds.

“Close,” he said, writing down the number. Then he remembered that February was the only month with twenty-eight days. How long was a lunar month?

“Okay,” he said to himself, “I'll divide 365 days by twelve. That's 30.41666 days.”

This time a month worked out to be 2,627,999.4 seconds.

“Closer, but still not right. Maybe that's not a lunar month. I'll have to check on-line when we get back.”

* * *

AP turned the computer on as soon as he had dropped his suitcase in his room. When he Googled lunar month he got 29.53059 days. Working this out in seconds gave 2,551,442.9.

“Yes!” he yelled, punching the air.

He ran into Kate's room without bothering to knock, waving his piece of paper. “Look at this!” he sang out, not noticing that she was on the phone. “One month in the past takes exactly one second in the present! We could live a whole year in the past and be away for only twelve seconds!”

Kate tried waving him away.

“Our first solid fact!” he continued, ignoring the hint. “Hopefully this is just—”

“Get lost!” she screamed. “I'm busy?” Then, speaking into the phone, “Sorry Whitney, just my brother being a pain.”

AP spun on his heels and left. “Welcome home,” he said to himself.

Chapter 11: The Old Routine

Resolving the lunar month gave AP such a boost that he was determined to discover more about the abacus. However, after two days of experimenting, his enthusiasm was fading. Then, on the third day, he got a lucky break. He had been rearranging the beads—checking that the number on the screen changed to match the one he'd just “beaded-in”—when the phone rang downstairs.

“It's Michael,” called his mother. “He wants to know if you're going to judo tonight.”

AP went downstairs, forgetting to turn off the abacus.

Returning minutes later, he beaded-in a new number—12231826—and watched an unfamiliar number flash up on the screen—12/23/1826. AP was baffled at first. Then he realized that instead of showing a certain number of years, the numerals appeared as a date—December the twenty-third, eighteen-twenty-six. The screen button must have a double function! When the screen's off the beads count for years. But when the screen's on they stand for months, days and years, letting you travel to a particular date.

Feeling pleased with himself, he went downstairs to raid the fridge.

* * *

Kate was spending a lot of time with her best friend Whitney. Her sister owned a car, so they often went to the mall. Between shopping for back-to-school clothes and seeing friends, Kate hung out at the ball diamond with her team. A few months ago, a new addition, Mitch Bailey, had joined the team. Mitch had recently moved from Montana with his family. He and Kate got along really well.

Although Mitch loved baseball, he hadn't shown up to play since Kate's return.

“Where's Mitch?” Kate asked Whitney one day.

“Oh he had to fly home for a wedding—he'll be back next week. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” she fibbed.

* * *

AP was happy about returning to school and slipping back into the old routine, but not Kate.

“Everything's so boring,” she complained one night at supper. “I can't see the point of school. Who needs all that useless stuff they teach us?”

Her parents exchanged glances—it was going to be another of those meals.

“No knowledge is useless,” reasoned her father. “Some things are just more interesting than others.”

Mrs. Littleton shot him a warning glance.

“So what's interesting about the French Revolution or the U.S. Bill of Rights?” challenged Kate.

“Well…” began Mr. Littleton.

The discussion lasted most of suppertime, with her father doing all the reasoning and Kate all the grumbling. Things ended when Kate stormed upstairs and slammed her door. Kate lay on her bed staring at the ceiling. Then she got a phone call from one of her teammates.

“Hey, Kristen…Nothing much…Yeah that sucks...No, what?...Christie Ford? No way. But she's so evil. How could anyone want to take her? No I don't…I have zero interest in him. Listen, Mitch can take Christie Ford or anyone else to the dance…That's so not true. You can think that if you like…Seriously, I have to go now. Bye.” She tossed her cell phone aside and buried her head in the pillow.

While Kate skulked in her room, AP was in the basement helping his father shelve some old National Geographic magazines. A cover picture of the Titanic caught his eye. He flicked through the article, looking at photos of the rusting hull. Then he came to another, titled “Ghosts on the Little Bighorn.” He started reading every word.

When Mr. and Mrs. Littleton went to bed that night, Kate's light was still on. Samantha Littleton thought of checking to see if her daughter was okay, but her husband persuaded her not to. When Kate was in one of her moods, it was best to leave her alone.

“Tread with care,” AP's father warned him the following evening. “Your sister's having a bad day!”

“What's wrong?”

“I have no idea. She's hardly spoken a word, not even on her cell phone. No text messaging either!”

“Where is she now?”

“Two guesses.”

AP nodded. “I'll go upstairs and see what I can do.”

“You're a braver man than me!”

“Kate?” AP called, knocking gently on her door.

No reply.

“Kate?”

Plucking up his courage, he turned the handle and opened the door.

Kate was lying on her bed listening to her iPod. She barely reacted when she saw him.

“Can I come in?” he asked, loudly enough to be heard over the music in her ears.

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged.

“What's bugging you?”

“Nothing's bugging me. Everything's fine.”

“Sure.”

“Just go away and leave me alone.”

“I want to help.”

“Well you can't, so forget it.”

“Remember Camelot? We looked out for each other then didn't we?”

He thought he saw the slightest nod.

“How about another trip? I've got a great idea.”

Seconds passed.

“Where to?”

AP knew he'd got her attention. “Montana.”

Kate sat up and pulled off her ear buds. “Montana?”

“It's a cool place. And an amazing time period—June, 1876.”

“What's so special about that?”

“The Little Bighorn.”

“Is that some sort of cattle?”

“It's a river.”

She stared at him blankly.

“Custer?” he said, expecting her to clue in. “General Custer and the Battle of the Little Bighorn.”

That got a reaction.

“There's no way we're getting involved in any battles. I had enough of them in medieval England.”

“We'd be nowhere near the battleground. We can find out about it by talking with the locals.”

Kate sat in silence—pondering. Things could hardly be any worse for her.

“When should we go?” asked AP, pushing his luck.

“Right away,” Kate replied.

“Like, now?” AP was stunned.

“Don't you want to go then?”

“Sure I do. I'll get the abacus and we're out of here.”

Chapter 12: Buffalo!

Kate lay on her back staring up at a vast blue sky. How could it be so big? She closed her eyes, breathing in the fragrance of flowers and fresh grass. It was like the first days of summer.

“Are you ever going to move?” AP's voice rang through her head like an alarm bell, ending the daydream.

She stood up beside him and gazed around in wonder. The grassy plain, with its gently rolling hills, went on forever, with barely a tree in sight.

“This is so beautiful,” sighed Kate. “Look at all the colors. And I've never seen such tall grass—it's above our knees.”

“It's taller farther east. Way over my head.”

“Grass doesn't grow that tall.”

“Not in the twenty-first century, but it does in these times.”

Kate looked doubtful.

“This was one huge grassland, before the settlers turned the prairies into farmland. Speaking of prairies—” He smirked. “Did you ever see Little House on the Prairie?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You'd fit right in,” he said, looking her up and down.

Kate was wearing a long gray dress that almost reached her ankles, with a button-up collar, long sleeves with cuffs, and big pockets. Her laced-up boots looked scuffed and worn. The only splash of color was a blue bonnet, tied beneath her chin with a white bow.

“What about you then, Mr. Smarty-pants? You've got a scruffy old shirt, suspenders, and your pants are way too short. As for the battered cowboy hat—”

“I think I look good,” AP grinned, and spun around on the spot.

Kate immediately burst out laughing.

“What's so funny?” he asked, as if she'd hurt his feelings.

“It's your—butt!” she blurted between howls. “The seat of your pants has a huge patch!”

“So?”

“Well, your pants are black and the patch is blue. You look like Bozo the Clown!” She howled again.

“Are we discussing my clothes all morning, or are we going exploring?”

“Lead on,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Though how do we know which way to go?”

“We don't. That's why we're going climbing.” He nodded toward a hill. “We'll get a good view from up there.”

After checking to see that the abacus was safe, he shoved both hands into his pockets. “Hey, what's this?” he said. “A pencil and paper. That'll come in handy.”

They'd been walking for ten minutes and the hill was still a way off. Distances could be deceiving in this terrain.

“Anyone for rabbit pie?” AP joked as a rabbit hopped away. “This place is teeming with them.”

“I'm not hungry right now,” said Kate, “but what are we going to eat?”

“Well?” He nodded toward another rabbit.

“You wouldn't.”

“What's the choice? We have to live off the land—there are no stores!”

“Look,” she whispered, pointing off to the right.

A small herd of deer was grazing in the sun, unaware of their presence. As they watched, a buck raised his antlered head and stared at them. Others followed until they were under the gaze of the entire herd. Eventually the deer returned to feeding.

“I've never been so close to deer before,” said Kate. “This place is wild.”

“The whole country was like this, before ‘development' took over.”

A hummingbird appeared from nowhere. After hovering for a few seconds, it shot off to a bright red flower.

“I hope there are no snakes,” Kate groaned, remembering a camping trip out west. Their father had constantly reminded them to watch where they stepped.

“Just remember what Dad always says,” offered AP

“Stay alert!” they sang in unison, and burst out laughing. Nevertheless, they kept focused on where they were walking.

Kate and AP were unaware they were being followed. Their stalker—a tall thin man—had been trailing them since their arrival. At first, they were small specks in the distance. Now he was close enough to hear their laughter. He must be especially careful. If they spotted him and ran, they'd likely get away—he was not athletic and they were young. He had to get close enough to rush at them. Locking onto his target like a predator to its prey, he was determined to catch them.

Unlike the youngsters, he had little experience with the outdoors. Although aware of rattlesnakes, they held no significance, so he was not looking out for them.

When the rattlesnake struck, he thought a stick had hit him on the foot. Then the most excruciating burning pain followed and he fell to the ground writhing. The snake had already slithered away. He wanted to scream but they would hear him, so he clenched his teeth in silence. Tears ran down his cheeks and his forehead glistened with sweat.

Tearing off his boot and sock, he lay in agony, watching his foot swell like a balloon. His heart was racing and his tongue began tingling. Was he going to die? Would he ever walk again? Those kids were getting away but survival was all that mattered now.

* * *

AP and Kate had been traveling almost an hour and still not reached the top of the hill.

“It's a lot higher than I thought,” AP admitted.

“And farther away,” Kate complained. “Let's take a break.”

Nothing could have prepared them for what they saw on cresting the hill and looking down on the other side.

“What's that?” gasped Kate.

A large valley stretched before them, shimmering in a heat haze. And there, dancing in the distance, was a huge brown mat. It was as if a shaggy carpet had come to life, throwing dust clouds from the valley floor.

“Buffalo,” said AP, though he knew the proper name was bison.

“No way!” said Kate. “If that was a herd of buffalo there would be hundreds of them.”

“Thousands,” corrected AP.

“Buffalo are massive—I've seen them at the zoo—there can't be that many!”

“I read that fifty million buffalo roamed North America before the settlers arrived. And do you see that green line on the other side of the herd?”

She nodded.

“It's trees, growing along a riverbank.”

Soon Kate and AP were walking across a wide-open plain, with stark badlands in the distance.

“It's so hot and dry down here,” said Kate. “That grass looks as parched as my throat feels.”

“I know what you mean,” rasped AP. “All I can taste is dust.”

“This is serious. Are you sure there's a river over there?”

“Positive. You saw it too.”

“I saw something green, that's all. I'm still not convinced we were seeing buffalo either.” Kate scanned the skyline as they walked. “You can't even make out that brown swirly thing anymore.”

“That's because we're down much lower so the horizon's closer. But you can see the dust cloud, and I bet thousands of hooves are throwing that up.”

According to AP, they'd been walking in the valley for under an hour. Kate disagreed.

“Two hours at least. And—”

Without warning Kate stopped dead, body rigid, eyes fixed, mouth agape. Finally, she uttered, “Hundreds of buffalo—coming straight for us. What are we going to do?”

“Stay still,” stammered AP. “Try not to scare them.”

Kate, petrified with fear, wondered how she could possibly frighten the enormous beasts heading their way. If the herd took fright and stampeded, their hooves would trample them to death. But there was nowhere to hide so they had to stay where they were. Seeing the look of terror on his sister's face steadied AP.

“It'll be alright,” he said, trying to convince himself too.

Some of the buffalo brushed against them as they walked by—AP and Kate could smell their musty odor. Terrified, Kate stared at their sharp horns, imagining the damage they could inflict.

The buffalo, for their part, seemed uninterested in humans. Apart from a few grunts and some stares, most walked past staring dolefully ahead with huge brown eyes, like commuters on a train. Kate and AP, realizing nothing terrible was going to happen, began to relax.

Aside from their sheer size, their unusual shape impressed Kate most. Their massive shoulders—as high as she was tall—overshadowed the rest of their bodies, even the huge low-slung heads. Remarkably, their tongues were black, as if they'd been chewing licorice.

“Wow!” exclaimed Kate, when the last of the stragglers had passed. “That was unbelievable.”

For once, AP was speechless.

* * *

Kate peered at the sun. “I figure it's late afternoon—we've got about five hours before dark.”

“We've got to do a lot in that time.”

“And finding water is the first thing.” Kate slumped down to the dusty ground. “I've never been so thirsty in my life.”

“Me neither. Let's take a rest. Then we'll find that river.”

They sat in silence, each thinking the same thing—if they didn't get something to drink, they would die. After several long minutes, AP stood up and scanned th
e horizon.

“That's more like it. Now the dust has settled we can see again.”

Kate, still sitting, squinted up at him. From the grin on his face she knew he'd found what he was looking for.

“Trees,” he announced triumphantly. “Look for yourself.”

“Okay, Smarty-pants,” she agreed. “So there are trees over there. The big question is, will there be any water?”

“Guaranteed.”

“How can you say that?”

“When the pioneers crossed the Great Plains they were always looking for one tree—the cottonwood.”

“So?”

“So those trees are cottonwoods. And cottonwoods are usually found beside water.”

“Usually!” she blurted. “What happened to your guarantee?”

“Just look at the way they're lined up. They have to be growing along a riverbank.”

“I hope you're right AP. Otherwise we're in trouble.”

“I know,” he said grimly.

All the time the trees were a long way off they could travel in hope of spotting a river. But as they drew closer, they dreaded seeing nothing but dust. Neither one spoke. Kate's heart began to race. Then she saw it. Letting out a great whoop, she started running. AP was right behind her.

* * *

“That feels so good,” said Kate, closing her eyes in ecstasy. She was sitting with her back against a steep riverbank, long dress hoisted up to her knees. She had used her bonnet as a facecloth and water was still trickling down her neck. AP, crouched like a dog at the river's edge, had his face in the water. All she could see was his backside and the enormous blue patch on his pants.

“Hey, Bozo, have you had enough yet?”

AP stood up, dripping water and smiling. “Did water ever taste that good?”

“Never!” Then a thought struck her. “What if it's unsafe to drink?”

“No problem—pollution hasn't been invented yet!”

“Any idea what river this is? It's huge.”

“Maybe the Powder. That's one of the large rivers around here. They all flow north, into the Yellowstone. Here, I'll show you.” Picking up a stick, he drew a line in the gravel. “The Yellowstone River runs east to west.” Drawing four vertical lines beneath it, he pointed to the one on the right. “The one in the east is the Powder River.”

Kate pretended to be listening.

“The Bighorn is in the west, and its side branch is the Little Bighorn.”

“The Little Bighorn!” yelled Kate. “That's where the battle took place.”

AP nodded.

“But you said we'd be nowhere near the battleground.”

“And we're not. If this is the Powder River, we're a hundred miles to the east.”

“Sounds close to me.”

“That's because you're thinking in modern times, with cars and highways. A trip like that would take days on horseback.

“I'm starving,” he said, changing the subject.

“Me too.” Kate's stomach rumbled, perfectly on cue. “What are we going to eat?”

“Suppose I catch a rabbit?”

“How do you plan to do that, oh brave hunter?”

“I could build a trap,” he said hopefully.

“What's Plan B?”

“Okay, check this out,” he said, clambering up the bank. Cottonwood trees lined the river on both side and a tangle of plants grew in the shade. Their greens contrasted with the browns beyond. AP pointed to an ankle-high plant that spread everywhere and was dotted with small red berries.

“Here, try these,” he said, picking a handful and popping some in his mouth.

“You can't eat those!” she shrieked. “They could be poisonous.”

“Don't you recognize them?” He held out his hand. “They're wild strawberries.”

After picking strawberries, they set to work building a shelter for the night—when the sun set in a couple of hours it would get cold. All they did was lay branches against a fallen tree, filling the gaps with twigs and piling on dried grass and leaves for insulation. They topped this off with more branches, to hold it all in place. By leaving both ends open, they each had their own entrance.

AP used armfuls of leaves to build his mattress, but Kate, who seldom felt the cold, was less fussy with hers.

Before crawling into bed, AP spent a few minutes scanning the night sky. Kate, already comfortable, was dozing off.

“Did you notice the moon?” he called out.

“No,” she said, yawning.

“It's really neat—the thinnest crescent. And it's on the left side. Does that mean it's going to get thicker or thinner?”

Kate groaned. “Left means less so it's going to get thinner! Now let me sleep.”

AP scribbled a note on his piece of paper.