Time Trapped (25 page)

November 27, 2043, 9:18
P.M.

Near Kozhanka, Ukraine

P
hoebe's persona is dressed in a tank top and jeans and is sitting on the side of a highway. Her thumb is out, and in her other hand, she holds a sign that says
FRESNO
OR
BUST
.

“Phoebe?”

the one and only!”

“I taught Phoebe some Ukrainian. And now she speaks better than I do.”

“Say
,
Caleb,” Pheobe says. “I'm the one who told Dmitri where to put this cabin.”

I stutter.

“You're welcome,” says Phoebe cheerily.

This is all so unreal. I look around the room. Most of the recruits are still slouched near the fireplace. Some are fast asleep.

“Come on,” Dmitri says, removing two thick coats from hooks near the door and handing them to Abbie and me.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“I want to show you something,” Dmitri answers.

We follow him out into the night and soon find ourselves on a wooded path. The snow crunches underneath our feet, and the air is so cold it almost hurts to breathe.

“Do you know what my granddaughter said to me when she was out here last week?” says Dmitri. “She said, ‘
—Grandfather, I want to grow a big beard like yours so that my chin will stay warm'.” Dmitri lets out a big belly laugh.

“You have a grandchild. That's wonderful,” I say.

“I have sixteen grandchildren!” says Dmitri proudly. “Seven boys and nine girls. But only one of them, boys included, wants to grow a beard!”

Dmitri continues telling us about his life as we walk. At one point he says the word
perfunctory
and I smile to myself, reminded of the eleven-year-old Dmitri who used big words like that one.

Finally, we arrive at an old barn. The door is secured with a large padlock. From the depths of his coat, Dmitri pulls out a silver key. With shaking hands, he inserts the key in the lock and turns. The click of the lock opening echoes through the crisp night air.

He looks back, smiles and gestures for us to follow.

The barn is pitch-black and has a faint musty smell. Dmitri flicks a switch, and the entire barn is bathed in electric light.

When I see what is there, my breath catches in my throat.

It's old and rusted. But the shattered window looks the same. Faded letters say
NEW
YORK
CITY
TRANSIT
COMMISSION
on the side.

“I can't believe it,” I say.

“Yes. It cost a pretty penny to move it here from Kiev,” he says, stamping his feet against the cold.

We stare at it for a moment and then Dmitri says, “Let's get back to the cabin. We can finish our conversation there.”

He leads the way back along the path. Abbie's hand brushes mine, and our fingers twine together. Her hand is warm and soft.

The recruits are exactly where we left them, sprawled out on the floor and the couches. Judith is the only one of them still awake.

“Dmitri, do you think . . . ?” I begin to ask.

“Nothing is for certain,” he says. “But with your arrival, there may be a chance that for a short period I can make the subway car operational again as a time machine.”

I feel a sudden lightness; it's as if someone has lifted a hundred-pound weight off my chest. He can make it work again! Don't get your hopes up, my brain warns me. But it's too late for that. My hopes are as high as the moon.

“What do you need to make it work?” asks Abbie.

“Well, do you have any neurofiber cable?”

Abbie and I shake our heads. There go my hopes. They've left the moon's atmosphere and are now plummeting back down to Earth at warp speed.

Dmitri smiles and says, “Not to worry. That was wishful thinking on my part. I did not really think you would have any. But you may have brought with you a material that I can use as a substitute.”

“What is that?” I ask.

He glances around the room at the sleeping recruits. “Are those Timeless Treasures–issued shoes they are wearing?”

“I think so. Why? Do you need their shoes?” I ask.

“Not the shoes. The laces,” says Dmitri. “You see, laces in shoes in the 2060s were sometimes coated with specially formulated gallium arsenide to reduce friction.”

He's losing me. “Gallium who?”

“Don't worry about the name. The important thing to know is that the coating from the laces can be used to make semiconductors, provided there are enough laces and that we can scrape off enough of the compound to make it work. I believe I can use that to make the connections function once again.”

“Okay. How can we help?” asks Abbie.

“You can start by taking the laces from their shoes,” says Dmitri, “and bringing them to me in the barn.”

He moves toward the door and grabs his coat from the peg.

“We're on it,” I say. “How many laces do you think you'll need?”

Dmitri looks up and scrunches his eyebrows. “That is difficult to say. I have never tried this before. So I would say all of them.”

“You've got it.”

Abbie and I move among the sleeping recruits, collecting their shoelaces.