

### Chapters and the Hourglass of Time

By Alexander Kleschelsky

Copyright 2014 Alexander Kleschelsky

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

### Contents

Chapter 1. The Door

Chapter 2. The Hourglass

Chapter 3. It Is Not Working

Chapter 4. It Is Working

Chapter 5. The Secret

Chapter 6. The Mystery of a Century

Chapter 7. "The Best Day of My Life"

Chapter 8. Galaxy

Chapter 9. "It's a Calendar"

Chapter 10. "Missing"

Chapter 11. Great Escape

Chapter 12. A Trap

Chapter 13. The Librarians

Chapter 14. Out of the Blue

Chapter 15. Friendly Face

Chapter 16. Predicament

Chapter 17. The Bright Side

Chapter 18. Under the Road

Chapter 19. Friend or Foe?

Chapter 20. The Floating Head

Chapter 21. The Leap of Faith

Chapter 22. The Last Chapter

Chapter 23. The Bag of Surprises

Chapter 24. Plan C

Chapter 25. Uncharted Grounds

Chapter 26. Dead or Alive?

Chapter 27. Meet the Parents

Chapter 28. Should I Learn Chinese?

Chapter 29. The Bait

Chapter 30. Overeducated

Chapter 31. Movie Watchers

Chapter 32. The Road to Freedom

Chapter 33. The Ferry Tale

Chapter 34. Childproof

Chapter 35. The Truth

Chapter 36. I Wish I Could Play with It More

Chapter 37. Sibling Rivalry

Chapter 38. Forget Me Not

Chapter 39. Just Another Chapter

Facts

To my lovely sons. Thank you for guiding me through the uncharted waters of foreign language, and for inspiring me every day throughout this unforgettable journey.

# Chapter One

The Door

"Guys, wait up!"

"C'mon, Billy! C'mon, slowpoke!"

Heavy clothing didn't allow Billy to move as fast as he wanted, although he tried his best. But even if he didn't have his heavy coat on, he was no match for boys two to three years older than him.

Billy looked up the hill. The boys had finished climbing up and were now entering a huge hole in a stone wall where there used to be the gate to the castle.

"Wait up guys! Wait for me!"

Built in the eighteenth century during Britain's rule, Gothingham Castle was meant to represent the glory and power of the British Empire and to protect its interests on this land. Today it lay in ruins, nearly swallowed by bushes and grass. It had become an attraction to local teenagers and the lucky ones could even see a ghost. There was no way Billy would go alone into the darkness of the castle, or whatever was left of it. He had to catch up with the boys.

The air was cold and hard to breathe, though Billy was sweating in his heavy coat. It had been drizzling for hours, and the uphill road was wet and slippery. When Billy was only a few yards from the top he straightened his back to glance up. At this moment, he lost his footing and fell, hands first in the mud. He muttered, then tried to stand up, but slipped again and began rolling down the castle hill. Billy closed his eyes and covered his face with his arms as he rolled.

When he finally stopped, Billy opened his eyes and found himself at the bottom of the hill among the yellow bushes surrounding the castle. They grew so close to each other that he could barely move. Through their yellow leaves Billy saw the castle wall, which in some places merged with the ground, so the whole castle looked like a giant tree growing from the hill. There seemed to be fewer bushes by the wall, so Billy decided to move close to it until he got back to the road.

The drizzle turned into rain again, making the ground even more muddy and slippery. Moving along the castle wall, Billy kept his eyes down, choosing his steps very carefully. A few times he fell to his knees but stood up and kept on going, leaning against the wall to keep his balance. His pants were dirty and wet. The sweat was all gone, and the cold autumn air started to crawl under his clothing.

When Billy fell again he raised up his head, looking for a stone on the wall to grab onto. That's when he saw something he wouldn't have noticed under any other circumstances. Among the uneven stones of the castle wall, covered with dirt and moss, there was a door. The door was very narrow and set deep between the stones in such a way that it was almost impossible to see unless you were right in front of it. For a moment, Billy stood frozen, staring at the door. "No, it can't be," he whispered and, proving himself wrong, he saw a big rusty metal ring on the right side of the door. Billy pulled the ring. He wasn't sure at the moment what he wanted most—for the door to open, or to remain shut. The door didn't budge. Billy tried again, this time pulling with all his might. The door finally gave and with a deep and low moan it came ajar.

Billy stepped in. It was dark inside. He turned on his flashlight. The place looked more like a small cave than a room. Against the walls were wooden shelves with numerous glass vials and bottles of different shapes and sizes. A large wooden table stood in the middle. Under a thick coat of dust were papers, lots of them, some in a stack, some rolled. Billy wiped off a layer of dust. The papers were covered with writing. They weren't in English. They looked more like ancient marks, like those he saw in a history book. Billy directed the flashlight beam to the side. On the floor were lots of things that didn't mean anything to Billy. Among them, he noticed something familiar. He squatted and picked it up.

"Wow!" His eyes glittered in excitement. In his shaky hands he held an ancient hourglass just like the one on the picture in their classroom. "The boys at school are going to cry!"

* * *

# Chapter Two

### The Hourglass

The hourglass was heavy and quite large. It was the size of the water jug they had in their veranda garden at home. Billy carefully removed a spider web from the frame and wiped dust from the glass. There was no sand inside as he had expected. Instead, there were tiny crystals. Even with the little light coming from the doorway and his small flashlight, the crystals were sparkling with luminous light.

Billy exhaled. "This is amazing!"

Eager to see how it worked, he carefully flipped the hourglass over and put it on the table. The crystals instantly came alive, pouring from the upper chamber to the lower, flashing and sparkling, sending myriad colorful rays in different directions. The whole room filled with mysterious glowing lights. The spectacle was so beautiful that Billy couldn't take his eyes from it.

Suddenly something unusual caught Billy's attention. It was quiet, _too_ quiet. He knew his hearing was fine because he could hear himself breathing; he could even hear his own heartbeat. However, there were no other sounds—no sound of raindrops hitting the ground, no sound of wind rustling through the bushes. Billy looked out through the door to the outside. What he saw made his heart pound.

Only a moment ago it had been raining. Now the raindrops hung in the air motionless. Little spheres of water were separate and so definite that Billy could almost see his own reflection. There were millions of them. Nothing moved. It was as though he was looking at a photograph.

Billy stepped up to the doorway, stretched out his arm, and carefully touched one of the raindrops. It turned into a liquid and fell, bumping other droplets on its way until they finally hit the ground.

"Cool!"

Billy swung his arm from side to side, creating a cascade of water. The sound from the splashes on the ground echoed in the air.

Suddenly a crazy thought entered Billy's mind. He looked back at the hourglass.

"No, it can't be," whispered Billy, watching as the last crystals fell.

At this instant, loud thunder broke the silence. It happened so unexpectedly that it made Billy duck. That was the loudest thunder he had ever heard. At the same time, the room filled with all the other missing sounds. It was raining again, though it sounded to Billy like a thunderstorm compared to the quiet from a few seconds ago.

Billy starred at the hourglass. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but deep in his mind he knew that whatever it was, it had something to do with the hourglass. It was astounding, and at the same time pretty scary. He took off his coat and wrapped it around the hourglass.

* * *

# Chapter Three

### It Is Not Working

Billy didn't remember how he got home. He didn't remember struggling through the wall of wet bushes or climbing back up to the slippery road. His clothing was soaking wet, but he didn't care. The only thing that mattered to him at that moment was that he had a _secret_.

As quietly as possible, Billy slipped through the front door and headed to his room.

"Billy, is that you?" His mother's voice sounded from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mom!"

"How was school?"

"Fine!"

"How is your homework?" asked Billy's dad without taking his eyes from the TV. The question brought Billy back to reality.

"Almost done!" he answered. "I started at school."

It was partly true. He did start his homework at school, except it was far from finished.

"Hurry up!" said Mom. "Dinner is almost ready!"

"Okay!" Billy went into his room and closed the door. There, he unwrapped the hourglass and put it in the corner. Only then did Billy start to feel cold. In fact, his body was shivering. He changed from his wet clothes into dry ones. Then he went to the bathroom and put his hands under the warm water. He stood there for quite some time until his body stopped shivering and he felt warm again.

When Billy went back to his room he checked the corner—the hourglass was standing there quietly just as he'd left it. Billy pulled some textbooks and notebooks out of his schoolbag and put them on his desk. "First things first," he muttered, opening the first book.

No matter how hard Billy tried not to think about the hourglass while doing his homework, he just couldn't help it. His mind was overflowing with excitement. When his homework was finally done, Billy gave a big sigh of relief. He anxiously put his school stuff away; then he took the hourglass and set it on the floor in the middle of the room. He couldn't wait to see if it still worked.

In the bright light of his room he could take a better look at the hourglass frame. It was a four-legged stand representing an intricate combination of metal and stone. The bottom and the columns were made of metal. On the top was a stone plate bound by a metal ring that was a part of the frame. The plate had three circles engraved in it with a common center. The smallest circle was divided into twelve even parts by short, straight lines coming from its circumference to the center, like a clock. The bigger middle circle had more lines. Billy counted thirty-one. The last, biggest circle was covered all the way around with some ancient symbols. The final detail of the top side of the frame was three holes right in the middle of the small circle. They formed a triangle with two holes placed close to each other and the third one slightly farther. Billy could easily slide his fingers into the holes. These holes reminded him of something, but at that moment, he couldn't say what.

"Billy!" His mother's voice sounded through the house.

"Yes, Mom!" he shouted back.

"Dinner is ready!"

Oh no, thought Billy, I have no time!

He stuck his head out to the hallway. "Coming!"

I'll be fast, thought Billy, coming back into his room. Just this one time!

He carefully lifted the hourglass, took a deep breath and flipped it over. Shiny little crystals started moving from the upper chamber to the lower one, except nothing happened, nothing unusual anyway. Billy picked up a tennis ball and tossed it into the air, hoping it would stay aloft. But it fell down, bouncing normally, like any other tennis ball.

It is not working. Billy wanted to cry. The thing is broken.

Frustrated, he picked up the ball and threw it harder. The ball hit the floor, bounced up through the slightly opened door to the hallway, and kept on bouncing. Disappointed, Billy followed the ball. When he passed the kitchen, something strange caught his eye.

His father was sitting at the dinner table with his mouth open wide and a spoon with soup halfway in. His eyes were looking straight at Billy but it seemed like they didn't see him.

"Dad, are you all right?" asked Billy.

There was no answer. Not a sound, not a single move. Billy's dad was absolutely motionless. It was a scary sight. Billy felt the blood draining from his face.

"Dad!" he shouted frantically.

"Billy!" his dad screamed as he burned himself with hot soup. "Where did you come from?"

"What do you mean?" Billy replied. "I've been standing here the whole time, talking to you."

"Right," his dad muttered. He turned to Billy's mom. "First we can't get him out of his room, and the next moment he appears out of nowhere insisting he was there the whole time and scaring the crops out of me."

"Give him a break, will you," Billy's mom said. "He's only twelve. What do you expect? Just look at him. His face is all pale because you're yelling at him." Then she turned to Billy. "What are you waiting for? Dinner's getting cold."

That night Billy couldn't get to sleep. He lay in his bed with his eyes wide open, thinking of what had happened to him earlier that day. He had in his possession the most important and amazing discovery in the entire history of the world: an hourglass that could stop time. And best of all, nobody else knew a thing about it. He was the only one who had it and it was his secret. With these exciting thoughts, Billy finally fell asleep.

* * *

# Chapter Four

It Is Working

The next morning Billy removed all the textbooks from his schoolbag, leaving only thin notebooks and his school agenda. Then he put the hourglass in the bag.

"Perfect," he whispered. "Just the right size."

When Billy entered the schoolyard, someone called him.

"Good morning, Billy Somers."

"Anna-Maria, good morning."

Every time he saw a beautiful girl he would stumble, feel stupid, and wouldn't know what to say. He hated himself for that. Anna-Maria wasn't just a beautiful girl. She was special. She had silky smooth, dark skin. Her straight, obsidian black hair fell on her shoulders, overcastting her long, thin neck. But the most magnificent feature was her wide, green eyes. Whenever Billy locked onto them he couldn't see anything else—he could stand there and look at them forever. Sometimes he was glad they were going to separate classes. Otherwise, he'd be staring at her all the time instead of his textbooks.

"Are you still coming to my birthday party?" asked Anna-Maria.

"Birthday? Well, yes, of course."

"You didn't forget, did you?"

"Oh no, no. Birthday party. Of course, I do. I mean I don't. I didn't—uh, forget."

She smiled. "Well, then. Saturday at three. See you there."

"Yep. Saturday, three." The school buzzer rang. Billy was so glad to hear it. He turned around and followed the others inside the building.

As the teacher entered the classroom, she shocked the students with the news: "Today there will be a math quiz."

The class exploded.

"What? We never knew!"

"You never told us!"

"We're not ready!"

The teacher stood there, quietly waiting for the first wave of fury to calm down.

"I deliberately chose not to announce the quiz. It is easy to pass a test when you study the night before. However, usually the next day after the test you don't remember half of it." She paused to make sure she had everyone's attention. "Therefore," she continued, "only good marks will be counted. Bad marks, on the other hand, will indicate areas that need to be improved. After all, this is for your own good."

Realizing that they didn't have much of a choice, everyone started to pull out their papers and pencils.

"If you ask me," muttered Billy's friend, Mike, who sat in front of him, "an unannounced math quiz is like a knife in your back _—'for your own good.'_ "

Billy couldn't hold back a smile.

Math wasn't Billy's favorite school subject. Not because he couldn't solve problems, but because there was never enough time. Time was his biggest setback in math. It felt like one moment you open a book and the next moment you hear: "Time's up!" He envied the kids who finished their work ahead of time. He always wondered how they did it.

The quiz wasn't the hardest. There were lots of repetitive questions with different ways to find solutions. Billy was doing fine until the first person put the answer sheet on the teacher's table. Then another, and another. This made Billy feel nervous. It was that same feeling again: time, like sand, was slipping through his fingers.

"You have five minutes left," the teacher announced.

Not enough time, thought Billy desperately. Then a lucky thought struck him; he had all the time in the world sitting right there in his schoolbag. Of course! Why didn't he think of it before? Trying to be as casual as possible, Billy leaned down to reach his bag.

It wasn't there.

A cold sweat covered Billy's back. He glanced around. Everyone was working on the test with their heads down.

This can't be happening, thought Billy. He was shocked.

When he looked back, his eyes locked with another pair staring right at him. It was Kyle—a skinny short boy with blond hair. He earned his nickname Pilot Fish for hanging around Justin Downhill, also known as Big White, named like that after the great white shark for his size and short temper.

Kyle stared at Billy with a spiteful grin on his face. Justin sat next to him. On his lap, he was holding Billy's bag. "Hey, Billy boy, got something to eat?" Justin asked, opening the bag. "I'm telling you, I'm hungry, man."

If he takes out the hourglass and flips it over, everything will be finished, Billy thought with dread.

Justin sunk his hand into Billy's bag. "What's that?" he felt around inside the bag. "Oh man, it's a toy!"

The next moment, the unthinkable happened. In a split second, Billy covered the distance of the three desks between him and Justin, grabbed the strap of his bag and with all his strength yanked it out of Justin's hands. It happened so fast and unexpectedly that Justin couldn't do anything to stop it. For a moment, he was stunned. No one ever dared to do anything like that to him. Justin stood up with a loud noise. Billy quickly returned to his desk.

"Finished your work, Justin?" the teacher asked.

"Almost," Justin said through his teeth. He gave Billy a heavy look and said again, "Almost."

"You better start praying," Kyle hissed, "'cause you are dead."

The school buzzer rang. Billy handed his work to the teacher and hurriedly left the classroom. He followed the corridor and headed to his locker. His body was shaking. Then he heard a loud voice behind him.

"Hey, zombie! Where do you think you're going?"

Billy turned around. Kyle was right behind him and Justin was a few steps away.

"I am not a zombie," Billy said.

"Sure you are," Justin said, approaching, "'cause you are a dead man walking."

Billy helplessly gazed around. He saw a door to the boys' bathroom and ran inside. That was a mistake—now he was trapped. Justin followed him in.

"How come you're not so fast anymore, huh?" He pushed Billy hard in his chest. Billy lost his balance and began to fall.

Just before Billy hit the floor he grabbed his bag with both arms to protect the hourglass and accidentally flipped it over. Everything stopped. There was not a single movement, not a single sound. Justin stood there frozen with his body leaning forward, one foot dangling in the air, his face distorted with anger.

The first thought in Billy's mind was to run as fast as possible and as far as possible. He hastily lifted his schoolbag, trying to keep it upside down. A bunch of markers and crayons fell out of the side pocket and scattered on the floor. Billy sighed and started to gather them. When he picked up the last marker he had an idea. He went close to Justin and, using a black marker, drew a big curly mustache on his face. He stepped back to admire his art with a big smile. Then he went back and added two big circles around the eyes. Satisfied, Billy grabbed his bag and ran towards the door. At that moment everything went back to normal, and Kyle appeared at the doorway, blocking the only exit.

Oh no, Bill thought.

"Hey, how did you get there?" asked Justin as he turned around.

Kyle looked at him and unexpectedly burst into laughter. Billy couldn't hold it back either.

"Have you two gone mad?" Justin roared. Then he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. "Who did this?" The angry look on his face with the funny mustache and glasses made him look even more ridiculous.

Kyle crouched by the doorway holding his stomach with his hands, unable to stop laughing, which allowed Billy to slide out of the bathroom without a problem. The last thing he saw when he looked back was Justin trying to wash away the ink.

Good luck with that, Billy thought with a smirk. He used a permanent marker.

That day Justin and Kyle didn't show up for the rest of their classes.

* * *

# Chapter Five

### The Secret

Billy felt great, like never before. He had two reasons for that. One—he had overcome his fear of Justin; and two—he still had his secret. The thought of knowing something that no one knew about, of having something that no one had, made him feel special.

At first, Billy wanted to tell everyone about the hourglass. Then he realized that if he did, it wouldn't be a secret anymore. Besides, the adults would probably try to take it away from him, and he couldn't let that happen.

He thought about all the inscriptions and diagrams etched into the stone plate. They must mean something. He had to take a closer look. Since he couldn't take the hourglass out of the bag without attracting unnecessary attention, he decided to make a sketch. During his next class he drew a picture with all three circles and dividing lines on a sheet of paper trying to be as close as possible to the original. However, he drew the ancient symbols approximately, as it would've taken too much time to make an exact copy.

He studied the drawings while eating a sandwich in the school lunchroom, until a soft voice interrupted his concentration.

"Hello again, Billy Somers."

Anna-Maria was standing beside his table, holding a tray with her lunch.

"Oh hey. Hi!" said Billy.

"Is this seat taken?"

"No, not at all."

Billy gathered the drawings, pretending he was cleaning the table.

"What are you drawing? Are you making a watch?" asked Anna-Maria as she sat down across from him.

"A watch?" asked Billy. "Why a watch?" After a little hesitation, he placed the paper back on the table.

"I don't know," she said. "Looks like a watch to me. You see these twelve lines." She pointed at the smallest circle. "Like twelve o'clock, six o'clock, you know?"

"Yeah, you may be right." Billy stared at the paper. He had never thought of the circles as a clock.

"What do you mean, 'may be'?" She peeled back the lid on her yogurt cup. "You don't know what it is?"

"Well, you see, I got this, uh . . . thing."

Anna-Maria looked at him, puzzled, but Billy wasn't ready to be open about his secret just yet. "Yeah, with all these engravings on it," he continued, "and I'm kind of trying to figure out what they could possibly mean."

"Can I see?" asked Anna-Maria.

"Sure." Billy slid the paper to her.

She stared at it for a moment. "Interesting ornament."

"Where?"

"Here." She pointed to the biggest circle on the drawing.

"It's not an ornament. These are writings."

"Huh, interesting language, though."

Billy shrugged. "Well, it's not an exact copy," he said. "Just a sketch."

"I see," said Anna-Maria. "Maybe one day you can show me that thing and I could help you with the translation."

"What could you possibly know about this?" Billy looked at her with a doubtful frown.

"Well, I recognized the watch right away and you didn't." She took a spoonful of her yogurt.

That was true, Billy thought.

"We don't know for sure it's a watch," he said.

"Whatever," she replied, seeming to losing her interest.

"Okay, okay!" Billy said, shaking off last hesitations. "But you have to promise you won't tell anyone, not a single soul."

"I am as mute as a fish." She zipped her lips. "Where is it?"

"Here." Billy opened his bag so that she could see inside.

"Wow!" she exclaimed. "What is it?"

"It's an hourglass."

"Let me see." She reached inside the bag but he quickly snatched it shut.

"Are you crazy? Don't take it out!"

"Why not?" she asked. "Did you steal it?"

"Of course not!"

She glared at Billy, waiting for an explanation.

"I'm just trying to keep a low profile, okay?" he said.

Anna-Maria nodded. "No problem. What do you know about it so far?"

"Well, not much. I just made a sketch, and I know that the small circle is probably a watch."

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"We," Billy corrected. "We know that the small circle is probably a watch. But what about the other circles? And what are these holes for?" He pulled the drawing back to him and pointed out the three little holes in the middle of the top plate.

"I don't know," said Anna-Maria. "Maybe something has to be inserted in there, some sort of key. Or maybe it's just a way to open the hourglass to replace the sand."

She paused for a moment, thinking. "Anyway," she continued, "don't you think we should start with the writings? Maybe they're some kind of instructions."

"Right," agreed Billy, "but it's going to take forever to make an exact copy."

"Don't worry about it. Open the bag."

Billy wasn't sure where she was going with this, but did what she asked. Anna-Maria took her cell phone out of her pocket, pointed it at the upper plate of the hourglass and snapped a photo of it.

"Of course!" Billy exclaimed. "So easy!"

"Let's go to the computer lab," Anna-Maria suggested.

They cleaned up their lunch trays, then grabbed their bags and headed up to the second floor. In the lab, Anna-Maria connected her cell phone to the computer and downloaded the photo file. The image of the upper plate appeared on the screen. Then she pressed "Print" and, after a few seconds, the picture came out of the printer. She picked up the printout and admired the detailed copy.

"Excellent," she said.

"You are good."

"Thank you, Billy Somers. I get that a lot."

"Show off," Billy said with a smile.

"Now all we have to do is translate the writings."

"Piece of cake," Billy said. "Any ideas?"

She smirked. "Not really. How about you?"

"Honestly, I have no idea where to start," said Billy. "We don't even know what language it's in."

"Right." Then Anna-Maria narrowed her eyes. "Where would you go if you had to research something?"

"The school library?" Billy guessed.

"Exactly!"

The school buzzer went off, calling them back to the classrooms.

"See you at the library after classes," said Billy as he stuffed the picture in his schoolbag.

"See you there," said Anna-Maria.

Right after school Billy and Anna-Maria met in the library. They showed the picture to Ms. Higgins, the elderly school librarian. "This language seems familiar," she said, "but to be honest with you, I don't think I can find anything useful for you in here. By the way," she asked, handing the picture back to Billy, "what do you need it for?"

"Well, uh..." started Billy.

Anna-Maria stepped in. "We are working on a history project."

"Oh, history?" Ms. Higgins exclaimed. "In that case, your best choice would be the university library and the history department faculty. They should be able to help you."

"Thank you, Ms. Higgins," Billy said and they headed out to the hall. Then he turned to Anna-Maria and added, "Good thing the university is on the way home."

"Let's go, then."

They left the school and caught the bus to the university campus. Billy was glad to have Anna-Maria by his side, but he wasn't yet ready to share the magical power of the hourglass. Everything in time, he thought.

* * *

# Chapter Six

The Mystery of a Century

The university campus was huge. By the time Billy and Anna-Maria found the library, it was getting dark. When the kids entered the library's main hall, they suddenly stopped, struck by the sight before them. The auditorium was vast, yet everywhere they looked there were shelves full of books of different sizes and covers.

"There must be thousands of them," Billy whispered, mesmerized.

Never before had Billy or Anna-Maria seen so many books gathered together in one place. Their school library looked like a closet compared to this place. In the middle of the hall was a big round desk where a couple of studious librarians were seated. Billy and Anna-Maria approached them.

"Hi," said Anna-Maria. "We would like to have this translated." She handed the picture to the man behind the desk.

"I am afraid we don't provide such a service in here," he answered, looking back at her eyes. Then he happened to glance at the picture and stopped. "Oh. Interesting . . . Very interesting." He studied the image for some time. "This language seems to be very old," he finally said. "I don't think you will be able to find a dictionary to simply translate this. However," he said and paused, "there is a person who might be able to help you."

The kids' faces lit up.

"Do you see that man over there?" The librarian pointed at an old man sitting at the far end of the hall, leaning over some books. "His name is Professor Bauman. Show him your picture, see what he says."

"Thanks a lot!"

"We really appreciate your help!"

The kids hurried to the professor's desk.

"Professor Bauman?" asked Billy.

"At your service." The professor took his eyes off his book and gazed over the rims of his glasses. His face registered slight surprise. "You are much younger than my usual audience," he said. "How may I assist you?"

Billy put the photocopy on the desk.

The professor looked at the picture. Then he looked at Billy. Then back at the picture. Then he leaned back in his chair, removed his glasses and covered his eyes with his hand. He seemed to be very tired yet excited.

Moments passed. Neither Billy nor Anna-Maria dared to break the silence. Finally, the professor put his hand down and looked at Billy.

"Where did you get this?"

Billy didn't expect such a direct question. He didn't know what to say.

"We took the picture from a magazine," Anna-Maria interjected.

Billy gave her a "thank you" look.

"What magazine?" the professor asked.

"We don't remember," Billy said, finally catching up. "We are working on a school assignment where we're supposed to pick any theme or subject from any scientific magazine and research about it. It's really nothing."

"Nothing?" roared the professor. "What you just so carelessly called 'nothing,' young man, some people used to call 'the greatest discovery of the century.'"

"You know what it is then?" Billy asked.

"Of course I know what it is," Professor Bauman snapped. It took some time for him to calm down. When he finally did, he pointed to the chairs beside his desk. "Please, have a seat."

Billy and Anna-Maria sat on the other side of the professor's desk. With genuine excitement in his voice, he continued.

"Back in the 1920s, during an archeological expedition in China, the fragments of a stone plate that looked exactly like this one were discovered among other extraordinary artifacts ."

"Another plate?" Billy exclaimed.

"Precisely," said the professor, "another plate. Unfortunately, only half of the plate survived. To make it worse, most of the writings were in bad shape. And from the very few fragments, scientists could only determine the language origins and translate a few words. And here is where the mystery lies." The professor paused and gave Billy and Anna-Maria a mysterious look. They held their breath. "But first, let me ask what you know about this artifact. There must've been an article in that magazine about it."

"Oh no, not really," said Billy, "just a picture with some others." He hated himself for being forced to lie like this. "We do have a thought, however." Billy saw the opportunity to hear the professor's opinion about Anna-Maria's idea. "We think that a small circle in the middle may possibly be a watch."

"A watch?" asked the professor. "Interesting. What makes you think so?"

"Well, twelve lines, twelve spaces. You know, three o'clock, nine o'clock..."

"I see. And the holes in the middle are probably where there used to be a small hand and a large hand?"

"Yeah, right!" Billy replied, looking happily at Anna-Maria, pleased that her theory had merit.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you, but it's not a watch." The professor responded, then paused. "It's a calendar."

"A calendar?" the kids repeated in unison.

"Yes, a calendar. These twelve spaces signify the twelve months of the year. The name of the month is written under each line. If you count the number of lines on the next circle you'll find thirty-one—the maximum number of days in a month."

So simple, thought Billy. He was ashamed that he couldn't figure this out by himself.

"You were saying that there was some mystery about it," said Anna-Maria.

"Right, the mystery . . ." The professor continued, stroking his chin. "You see, the writings on the plate are in Ancient Egyptian. This language goes back to 3000 B.C. and was a main trade language in the ancient Middle East. The calendar carved on the plate, however, is Gregorian—that's the one that we use today. It was first introduced in Europe at the end of the sixteenth century A.D."

"Somebody could've used old language to carve the calendar," suggested Anna-Maria.

"That's what everybody thought at the beginning," said the professor. "That was before thorough stone analyses were performed. It appeared that the plate and the writings were both dated to about 3000 B.C."

There was a moment of silence as the kids tried to comprehend what they had just heard.

"What exactly are you trying to say, professor?" Billy asked.

The professor's voice was full of excitement. "What I'm trying to say is that these two events—the making of the plate and the first introduction of the Gregorian calendar—are about 4,500 years apart." The look on his face was that of a twelve-year-old kid opening a Christmas present.

"Was the mystery ever solved?" asked Billy.

"Not that I'm aware of," answered the professor. "I guess it became one of those puzzles that you have to find one last missing piece in order to complete it." He picked up the picture, examined it for a moment, then slowly added, "Who knows, maybe this is the one."

Billy suddenly felt very tired. It had been a long day, with so many events, and so much information. He looked at Anna-Maria. She seemed to feel the same way.

"Well, Professor, thanks a lot for your time," Billy said.

"The pleasure is all mine," the professor replied. "Would you allow me to keep this picture for a few days? I would like to have a closer look at these writings. I'd be much obliged."

"Absolutely, by all means," Billy replied.

Billy and Anna-Maria took their bags and headed towards the exit.

"By the way," the professor called out to them, "did you know that this plate is actually three in one?"

"Excuse me?" Billy asked, turning around.

"It only looks like one solid plate," the professor continued, "but in fact it consists of three plates, or flat rings if you wish."

"How do you know this?" asked Anna-Maria.

"I saw the fragments of the 'Chinese' plate many years ago." The professor wiped his glasses with a handkerchief as he spoke. "You see, we know that those rings are divided into sections, right? So, by moving the rings and combining these sections we can set a certain date." He shrugged his shoulders and added: "Theoretically, at least."

"And then what?" asked Billy.

"Who knows, who knows...?" said the professor, sinking back into his thoughts.

* * *

# Chapter Seven

### "The Best Day of My Life"

When Billy and Anna-Maria stepped outside the library building, the sun was already down. Cold evening air touched their faces. It felt especially refreshing.

"I must see it!" exclaimed Anna-Maria. "After everything we've just heard you've got to show me."

"Okay, okay," Billy said. "It's dark out here. I'll show you when we get to the light."

Though streetlights lit the way, they weren't bright enough.

The bus stop was very well lit.

"Well . . ." said Anna-Maria anxiously.

"I can't," said Billy. "Look at all these people."

The bus arrived. The kids sat quietly all the way to Anna-Maria's house. Billy looked out the window at all the neon lights passing by and could not stop thinking about what the professor had told him, especially the part about moving the rings to set a date.

"Thanks for walking me home," said Anna-Maria.

Billy looked around. They were standing in front of Anna-Maria's door. He didn't even notice how they got to her house. Billy looked at Anna-Maria. She was staring back at him, waiting. Billy exhaled. Then he put his bag down, unzipped it and pulled out the hourglass.

"Wow!" exclaimed Anna-Maria. "It's beautiful!"

"Yes, it is," he agreed.

"Can I hold it?"

"Just be careful," Billy said and handed her the hourglass.

She held it aloft. "It's quite heavy. I had better put it down." She set the hourglass on the ground and knelt beside it, studying the upper plate.

"Here you are," she said quietly.

Billy knelt down next to her.

"Do you think the professor knows about the hourglass?" she asked.

"I don't think so. He never mentioned it, only the top plate."

Anna-Maria slowly moved her fingers across the plate.

"Where did you get it from?" she asked.

"I found it," Billy answered.

"Where?"

"In the castle."

"In Gothingham Castle?" Anna-Maria was genuinely surprised. "There is no kid in town who doesn't know every corner of that place. It's practically impossible to find something new in there."

"I found a room," said Billy.

"A room?"

"Well, it looked more like a cave than a room."

"Oh, I see. Were there any drawings on the walls?"

Billy didn't notice the sarcasm in her voice. "What drawings?"

"You know—hunters with spears, mammoths . . . the caveman drawings," she replied with a smile.

"It's not that kind of a cave."

"Hey, I'm just pulling your leg. Don't take it seriously," said Anna-Maria. "Let's see how it works." She was about to lift the hourglass and flip it over.

"Wait!" Billy stopped her.

She looked at him, puzzled. "Why? You don't trust me?"

"No, it's not like that," said Billy. He was searching for a better way to explain. "There is something . . . _unusual_ about this hourglass. Something special," he said.

"What are you trying to say, Billy?"

He hesitated for a moment, and then took a deep breath. "This hourglass can stop time." He finally exhaled.

"A-ha," said Anna-Maria, as if suspicious that now she was part of a joke.

"Here, I can prove it to you."

"Okay," said Anna-Maria, rising up and taking one step back.

Billy lifted the hourglass, held it for a moment, and then flipped it over.

Everything went quiet. No distant noise from the busy city streets, no leaves rustling in the evening breeze. Anna-Maria was standing frozen with her green eyes wide open. Billy stepped closer to her. He had never been so close to a girl before, especially to Anna-Maria. Billy held his breath and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss lasted for only a few seconds, but it seemed like forever.

Billy stepped back in fear that Anna-Maria would suddenly awaken. Nothing happened. She kept standing there absolutely motionless. Billy took his original position again and glanced at the hourglass. The last crystal fell. He looked up at Anna-Maria.

"Well," she said, "are you going to show me or not?"

"I just did!" Billy exclaimed.

"You know what?" she said in frustration. "Very funny, Billy Somers. Very funny." She spun around, stormed into her house and shut the door.

"A.M., wait!" Billy called after her. "I didn't mean to . . ."

There was no answer. He turned around and leaned on the door with a big smile on his face. Today is the best day of my life, he thought.

* * *

# Chapter Eight

Galaxy

The next morning Billy woke up with a warm feeling of joy, as if something great was about to happen, or may have already happened. Oh yes, he had kissed a girl! And not just any girl, but the most beautiful girl in the world. It felt awesome just to think about it.

He had his breakfast and checked his schedule; most of the lessons for today were easy. _Life is great!_ Billy thought as he picked up his bag and headed to school.

When he got there, the school was as active as a beehive. People were moving in all directions. Everyone was busy. Even those sitting on the grass in the schoolyard were busy talking, reading, or writing.

The first thing Billy noticed when he entered his classroom was the feeling of excitement in the air.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked Mike.

"The field trip, dude. Don't say you forgot."

He had completely forgotten. It was Friday and they were going to Galaxy, the bowling alley. Life's just gotten better, Billy thought. At this moment, he saw Anna-Maria passing by the doorway.

"A.M.!" Billy called out. "Anna-Maria!" he called again, rushing to the corridor.

She slowed down.

"Hey," said Billy.

"Hey," said Anna-Maria.

"Look, about yesterday. I am sorry. I didn't mean to be rude or hurt your feelings."

"Oh, it's okay. Don't worry about it. You know," she said, "I have magical powers too."

"Huh?" Billy's eyes widened.

"I can run around the world in less than a second."

Then she moved her hand across her forehead as if wiping off the sweat. "Phew, that was hard. I can do it again for you if you want."

Billy smiled. "I get the point," he said.

She started walking again.

"Look, we have a field trip today, to the bowling alley," Billy said, catching up. "Is your class coming?"

"No, not today." She stopped and turned to Billy. "Have fun."

"Okay."

"By the way," she added, "don't forget about tomorrow. You're still invited."

"Right," Billy said, watching her walk away.

And I still don't have a present, he thought to himself.

***

The school bus stopped near a building with a big sign that said "Galaxy" on its front. Everybody poured out of the bus and rushed inside. Billy had heard a lot about this place but had never been here before. It wasn't just a regular bowling alley; everything in here was special. The ceiling and walls were painted black and covered with bright images of different constellations, galaxies, supernovas, asteroids, and comets. The bowling balls were planets, and the pins were alien spaceships.

Billy found a locker room. He carefully placed his bag into the locker, checked the hourglass one last time to make sure it was fine, and locked the door. Then he went back to the hall, rented bowling shoes, and joined his friends. The game had already started, with the students divided into groups of three.

"Billy, over here!" Mike and Seth were standing by lane five, waving to Billy. "Want to play with us? We are one person shy."

"Sure!" answered Billy. "What's the deal here?"

"Easy. The team that scores the most points wins," Mike explained.

"You have only one roll in your turn, though," Seth added.

"Why only one roll?"

"Too many people want to play. Better make it count."

Billy picked up a ball from the ball dispenser. "Wow, pretty heavy."

"Tell me about it," agreed Mike, taking aim. He was holding a red ball painted as Mars. "I am the master of the universe!" he shouted as he ran forward and released the ball. The red sphere rolled like a fireball down the middle of the track, but just before it

reached the pins it veered to the right and knocked only a few pins at the side.

"Not bad," said Billy.

"Good job!" Seth commended. He held a ball painted as Neptune, and was ready for his turn.

Seth took a run and threw the ball. The blue orb flew a good few feet in the air and landed loudly on the track. It went straight and hit right in the middle of the alien spaceship formation.

"Strike!" announced a voice through the speakers.

"That was awesome!" Billy and Mike exclaimed as they patted Seth on the shoulders.

Next was Billy's turn. He took a few steps back.

"Hey, man, wait a second," said Mike. "You may want to change your ball."

"Yeah," agreed Seth, "it's a black hole—bad luck."

Only now did Billy notice that his ball was completely black.

"It's all right," he said. "I'll take my chances."

He took a run, just like Mike and Seth before him, and made a throw. The ball hit the lane heavily and slid right to the gutter.

"Oh-oh." Billy sighed in disappointment.

"Don't worry, man. It's just a warm-up." Mike was getting ready for his next shot. He took a running start and released the ball. It went almost in the center and hit in between the first and second pins. The impact was so strong that it scattered the pins all over the place.

"Strike!" the electronic voice announced again.

"Now we're talking," said Mike with a big smile.

Seth took his turn. "For Mother Earth!" he shouted as he ran up and threw his ball. The ball flew a greater distance this time, landing a bit off center in the lane, but kept a good speed and hit in between the second and the third pins in the front row. Most of the pins went down, leaving only a few standing.

"Nice shot!" cried Mike in admiration.

***

That day the Galaxy was busy. The field trip brought many kids together. Some were playing, while others were waiting for their turns while cheering on their friends. Their voices were overlapped by the sounds of rolling balls and falling pins. In that mayhem, nobody paid attention to a man, sitting in a chair in the row by the wall, quietly observing the game. He had short white hair and was probably in his fifties. The man held a pencil and a notebook and, from time to time, was making notes. No one knew, however, that he had a special interest in Billy's game. Whenever he threw a ball, the man would narrow his eyes and make another note.

***

It was Billy's turn again. This time he took a longer run to gain more speed. Just before the red line, he released the ball. It rolled down the middle of the lane, but then it slowed, shifted to the side and ended up in the gutter again.

People were laughing. The boys from the other team were pointing at them.

"Don't worry, Billy. You'll do it next time," Seth reassured him.

"Easy for you to say," muttered Billy. Disappointed, he went to the chairs by the wall and plunked his body into one of them.

"Did you know they played bowling back in Ancient Egypt?"

Billy turned his head towards the source of the voice. He hadn't noticed that a man was sitting two seats away from him. He had short white hair and was at least in his fifties.

"You have no control over the ball," said the man, putting down his pencil.

"What do you mean?" asked Billy.

"Right now the ball is in charge; it goes wherever it wants to. You have no control over the ball."

"And how exactly do you get control over the ball?"

"First you have to set up a goal in your mind," explained the man. "You have to decide for yourself that this is what you really want. Then you put your fingers right inside those three holes and squeeze them tightly. Next, you lift the ball with two hands, look at the pins and find a spot where you want this ball to be at the end. After that is the easy part; send the ball there, and remember not to look at the track. Keep your eyes on the target at all times."

"Sounds easy," Billy said.

"Most importantly," the man added, "you have to realize that you are in charge. Whatever you do is your choice, your decision and your call. No one and nothing can interfere with this. We call it state of mind."

"Looks like you practice a lot." Billy sighed. "I don't come here very often."

"Skills come with experience," said the man. "And remember who's in charge."

"I am," Billy said and smiled.

"Now go."

Billy stood up and went back to the track.

"Right on time." Seth handed Billy the pitch-black ball.

"Thanks, man." Billy took the ball and held it with two hands; he put his fingers inside the holes and squeezed them tightly. Then, something unexpected happened. The lights went out. For a second there was darkness everywhere. Then the black lights kicked in, revealing glow-in-the-dark paintings of different aliens and monsters that had been hidden in the light. They were everywhere: on the walls, on the ceiling and even crawling from the cracks on the floor. At the same time the alarm sounded, and flashing lights lit up the pins.

"The Wave, the Wave!" everyone shouted in excitement.

"Caution, caution!" an electronic voice declared from speakers. "Number one alert! The alien armada has formed an attack wave and is approaching our galaxy. Save the galaxy, save the Earth!"

"C'mon, Billy, it's up to you!" Mike shouted over the alarm.

Billy held the ball with two hands; he squeezed his fingers inside the ball so tight that it felt almost like the ball became a part of his body. Then he took a few steps back, set his eyes on the pins and slowly moved forward. Step after step he went faster and faster and just before the red line he sent the ball in the air. Everything seemed to Billy like it was in slow motion—the rolling ball, the flashing lights—and his eyes locked on the target. _We call it state of mind_ , he heard the man's voice saying in his head. The ball made contact with the pins. One moment the pins were there, and the next they were all gone.

"Strike!" came the voice from the speakers, and then," Double Strike!" Of course, you score double during the Wave.

"Yeah!" shouted Mike and Seth. "Did you see that? It's like your black hole sucked them in!" They hugged Billy and patted him on the back. Cheerfully Billy turned around and looked back. The chairs were empty. He briefly felt a pang of sadness that the man wasn't there and couldn't see his success.

From then on, everything went smoothly. Billy didn't always get a strike, but it wasn't that important anymore. The main thing was this new feeling, a feeling he had never experienced before, the feeling of total control. He remembered the man's voice. _Set a goal, focus on the_ _target. Who's in charge?_

"I am," whispered Billy every time he threw the ball.

* * *

# Chapter Nine

"It's a Calendar"

Time flew by fast for Billy and his friends. When the game was over, everyone congratulated each other.

"Good game, guys," said Mike.

"Likewise," agreed Seth.

"Ditto," added Billy.

Everybody laughed.

"How about we put our lunch money to good use and get something to eat," Seth suggested.

"And celebrate," said Mike.

"You guys go ahead. I'll catch up with you," Billy said. "I just need to pick up my stuff from the locker."

He returned his bowling shoes and went to the locker room. He retrieved his bag from the locker and opened it just to be sure that everything was all right. The hourglass was just as he had left it. Billy was about to close the bag when a sudden thought astonished him: the three holes in the hourglass looked exactly like the three holes in the bowling ball. _Did you know they played bowling in Ancient Egypt?_ The man's voice sounded in Billy's head again. And overlapping his was Professor Bauman's voice: _The writings on the plate are in Ancient Egyptian. . . . It appeared that the plate and the writings were both dated to about 3000 B.C._

The pieces of the puzzle were coming together in a way Billy would have never expected, a kind of scary way.

Acting mostly intuitively, Billy placed three fingers into the holes in the hourglass plate and squeezed them tightly as he had done with the bowling ball. Something snapped inside and the small plate popped up, pushing Billy's fingers up.

"Ghuahh." It was so unexpected that Billy gasped for air. If his fingers weren't deep inside, he would've withdrawn them right away. The small round plate with three holes in it was now sticking out about one inch and was easy to move. Billy slowly turned it to the right, then to the left. Every time the line on the small plate coincided with a line on the middle plate there was a tiny click inside.

" _It is not a watch,"_ Billy remembered that Professor Bauman had said. _"It's a calendar."_

"Awesome," whispered Billy, thrilled with his unanticipated discovery. On the other hand, he didn't want to accidentally break anything, so he decided to push the small plate back where it was, at least for now. And so he did. Only, it didn't stop there. Instead, as the small plate leveled with the middle plate, both plates moved down. They stopped about one inch below the outside plate. Now the small plate and the middle plate were locked together and could easily rotate left and right. Billy really started to worry now. What if he had broken something? What if it wouldn't work again?

Very slowly, Billy opened his fingers. Something inside the small plate snapped back and it stopped moving.

He decided to try the hourglass, just to be sure. Carefully, he removed it from the bag and set it on the floor. He looked around; he was alone in the locker room. Billy took a deep breath and flipped over the hourglass.

Right at that moment, everything became blurry, everything but the hourglass. Billy kept staring at it, unable to take his eyes of it, while at the same time feeling as if his stomach was turning upside down. A wheezing noise became louder in his ears. His legs got heavy. Things started to spin around. The shiny crystals were moving differently now. They were all over the place, completely surrounding Billy. He felt as if he was inside the hourglass descending with those crazy, sparkling stars. Finally, Billy's legs gave, his knees bent and his body collapsed. Just before he hit the floor, he grabbed the hourglass and clenched it to his body with both arms. The thought of waking up and not finding it was simply unbearable. That is, if he was ever going to wake up. That was Billy's last thought before everything turned dark.

* * *

# Chapter Ten

### "Missing"

"Hey, kid, are you all right?"

"Hello!"

Distant voices were slowly entering his mind. Billy moaned and forced himself to open his eyes.

"Huh, where am I?"

In front of him was a colorful group of three teenagers: a girl in a leather jacket, her hair colored purple; a guy with a blue spiky hair; and another young man with a large key-chain hanging from the pocket of his jeans down to his knee, his short hair dyed red.

Billy's head felt heavy, and he could hardly move. "Who are you?" he whispered, trying to recall what happened to him.

"Is he drunk?" asked the guy with spiked hair.

"I don't think so," said the girl in the leather jacket. "He's too young for that."

"What, what's going on?" Billy asked again.

"Happy New Year!" everybody shouted at him at once. Then they broke into laughter.

"What's that in his hands?" asked the spiked-hair guy. "Is that a beer?" He stretched out his arm towards Billy.

"No!" shouted Billy as he realized that he was still holding the hourglass.

"Knock it off, Spike! Leave the kid alone," commanded the girl. Then she addressed Billy. "You must've slipped and fell down. Did you hit your head?"

"I don't remember," Billy said, trying to sit up.

They helped him up to a bench in the locker room.

"Okay, people. He's fine," said the guy with the key chain, "false alarm. You better watch your step," he added. "It's quite slippery in here."

Billy noticed many small puddles on the floor. He was sure they weren't there before. There was also something strange about the people's clothing. They all wore warm coats, hats and gloves.

"Guys, why are you wearing all these warm clothes?" Billy asked.

"Are you sure he's okay?" Spike asked, again ignoring Billy's question. "'Cause he doesn't look very good to me."

"Spike, if you saw yourself in the mirror, you'd be dialing 911 already," said the girl. Everybody laughed and moved to the exit.

Billy rose. He put the hourglass in the bag and followed the group.

When he stepped into the corridor, a sudden bright light hit his eyes. Outside the windows, everything was white. The cars in the parking lot, the trees and the bushes were all covered in a thick layer of snow.

"Wow," said Billy, exhaling.

It was a rare occasion for snow to fall in this part of the country, even in the winter.

Under other circumstances Billy would've really enjoyed it, if it weren't for the fact that there had been no snow when he came to the game.

Did I fall asleep? he thought. How long was I out?

Billy felt the need for a breath of fresh air, and headed through the corridor to the exit door. As he walked by the bulletin board, something strange caught his attention. Among other flyers and ads, was a picture of a smiling boy. Billy couldn't believe his eyes—it was a picture of him. Big letters under the portrait stated: "Missing . . . last seen in October."

No way, thought Billy. It can't be. What day is it?

He searched around for a clue, when his eyes stopped at a big banner that screamed "Happy New Year!" above the exit door. The colorful confetti and streamers on the floor started to make sense.

"Two months," whispered Billy. "I was out for two months."

Even if he had fallen asleep or had been in a coma, someone would have found him. There was only one logical explanation for this phenomenon—the hourglass. If it could stop time, was it possible that it could move within time as well? Billy felt his knees getting weak again.

At this moment, he heard distant laughter. A group of kids was approaching. Quickly Billy ripped the "missing" poster off the board and shoved it into his bag. He stood by the board pretending to read until the group passed. Then he turned around and rushed back to the locker room.

I have to go back, Billy thought. Somehow I've got to go back. He sat down on the bench and leaned against the wall. He tried to remember exactly what he was doing before all this happened. Think, Billy, think.

He remembered when the small plate popped up; he turned it a few times. Then, when the small and the middle plates went down, he turned them too. There was also something clicking inside. Billy recalled Professor Bauman's words: _". . . by moving the rings and combining these sections we can set a certain date."_

Billy took the hourglass out of the bag and put it on his lap. So, that's what you are, he thought, a time machine.

The hourglass seemed to be the same, yet there was something special about it this time. All the little shiny crystals inside, all the writing on the plates had a completely different meaning now. He touched the glass and softly stroked its smooth surface. A few crystals moved, glowing like fireflies, responding to his touch.

Very carefully, Billy inserted his fingers into the three holes and tried to turn the plate. It didn't work. He tried harder. Nothing happened. A cold sweat covered his face. Oh no, I'm stuck. I'm stuck in the future. He was starting to panic. On the other hand, it could be worse, he thought. I could've gone in the opposite direction and ended up with dinosaurs.

There was a way out, though. All he had to do was to go home and say that he wasn't missing. Everyone would be happy. But then he would have to explain where he had been for the past two months. Eventually he would have to tell about the hourglass, which meant they would take it away from him—the police or government or scientists. Professor Bauman would probably be the first in line. No, that was totally unacceptable. He absolutely had to go back.

Billy focused and tried to remember every single detail, every move he had made, every thought he had before all this happened. He distinctly remembered thinking of Professor Bauman. He was also thinking of that man from the bowling alley. His words echoed in Billy's head: _"Control . . . focus . . . state of mind . . . who's in charge?"_

"I am," said Billy.

He put his fingers deep into the holes in the small plate and squeezed them firmly. Something snapped inside the plate. The middle and small plates, locked together, were moving freely now. "Yes!" exhaled Billy.

Easy now, he thought. Now I have to think backwards.

Before he had gotten to this point, he had moved the plates two clicks clockwise and then two clicks counterclockwise, which meant he should keep the middle plate in that position.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, but he couldn't wipe his face—his hands were busy. It felt as if he was disarming a bomb. Gently, Billy moved his hand up until the middle and the small plates leveled with the outer plate. He heard a distinctive click, after which the middle plate stopped moving. Billy paused, took a breath and, keeping his fingers pressed together, brought the small center plate all the way up. Then he released the pressure and carefully pulled his fingers out of the holes. His fingers were numb. Billy put the hourglass on the floor and shook his hands to restore blood circulation. Now was a tricky part: he didn't remember which way and how many clicks he had turned the small plate—he was too excited at the time.

He positioned his hand over the plate without touching it and turned it in the air in both directions. His muscle memory was his only hope. After several tries, he decided that there were four and two clicks. The only problem was—he didn't remember which way.

Finally, Billy made a decision. If he initially turned the plate four clicks clockwise and then two clicks counterclockwise, then all he had to do now was to make two more clicks counterclockwise and the plates should be realigned with his time. Billy put his fingers inside the holes and squeezed. Then very slowly, he turned the small plate counterclockwise two clicks and pressed it down until it leveled with the other plates. He released pressure and took his hand away.

This is it, he thought. There is only one way to find out.

Billy mentally prepared himself for the worst, and then flipped the hourglass over. Everything except the hourglass turned blurry, just as before. Things were spinning around. Myriads of sparkling crystals were everywhere and, once again, Billy felt as though he was inside the hourglass. He felt dizzy, but not as bad as the first time.

I might even get used to this, Billy thought in excitement.

Soon objects came into focus: lockers and benches, walls and floor—everything came back to normal with the last drop of the shiny crystal. Billy looked around. He was in the same room.

Did I make it back?

There were no puddles from melted snow on the floor. Good sign, he thought. He packed the hourglass in his bag, and then rushed outside the locker room.

In the corridor, the first thing he noticed was the absence of confetti and streamers. The most important thing, though, was that there was no snow outside the windows.

"Great," Billy whispered," it worked!"

Still, he needed more proof. Of course, Billy could've asked somebody what date it was. That question wouldn't be out of the ordinary, unless it was followed by: "What year?" Billy didn't really like the idea of people thinking he was a lunatic. In the window he saw a newspaper stand on the other side of the street.

Bingo! Billy hurried out of the Galaxy.

When he was on the street, somebody called him, "What took you so long?"

Billy turned around. "Mike, Seth, it's you!"

"Yeah, right. Who did you expect, the Queen of England?" Mike grinned.

"C'mon, man, it's freezing out here. Did you fall asleep or something?" asked Seth.

"Almost," said Billy, smiling. Never before was he so glad to see his friends. "Let's go."

This day, Billy didn't dare to use the device again. He needed to think over this whole time machine/hourglass more thoroughly. The small and the middle plates appeared to set the day and month, so maybe the largest outside plate had something to do with the year. But instead of numbers or notches it was covered with small writing. There was no way Billy could have translated the writing without help. The more he thought of it, the more he felt that the idea of having this secret all to himself was too overwhelming. He had to share it with someone, someone he could trust. The only person he knew like that was Anna-Maria. The next day was her birthday. Billy decided that he would tell her everything.

* * *

# Chapter Eleven

Great Escape

The following morning was unusually sunny for this time of the year. It was Saturday, and it was A.M.'s birthday. Billy had plenty of time to find a present for her.

It's going to be a beautiful day, he thought as he was leaving his house. The air was cold, so Billy walked on the sunny side of the street, enjoying the heat of sunbeams on his cheeks. When a familiar face unexpectedly appeared in front of him, they nearly collided.

"Hello, Billy."

"Professor!" exclaimed Billy, surprised.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks. How are you doing, Professor?"

"Oh, I'm doing very well," said Professor Bauman. "Billy, do you have a minute for me? I'd really like to talk to you."

"Of course," Billy replied. I am so lucky, he thought to himself. The professor will surely help me translate the writing on the plate.

"Let's go into this coffee shop," the professor suggested. "It's quite chilly outside."

The inside of the coffee shop was warm and cozy. The smell of coffee and cinnamon lingered in the air.

"What do you drink?" asked the professor.

"No thanks. I'm fine."

"My treat," insisted the professor amiably.

"Hot chocolate," admitted Billy, giving in.

The professor ordered hot chocolate and a regular coffee with milk and no sugar. They took their orders and sat at the table by the window. The professor slowly sipped his coffee as if he was deciding where to start.

"Billy, have you ever heard of Nostradamus?"

The question surprised Billy even more than meeting the professor.

"I've never heard this name before," he answered honestly.

"Of course you haven't," said the professor. "I'm sorry, Billy, I'm getting ahead of myself. You see, last night I had very little sleep. Nor the night before. And it's all thanks to you."

"Excuse me?" Billy had no idea what he had to do with the professor's sleepless nights.

"Oh no, I don't blame you at all," the professor carried on. "You see, the last thirty-six hours of my life were filled with excitement and discovery beyond my wildest dreams."

Billy said nothing. He looked even more puzzled, so the professor continued. "The photo of the plates that you and your friend left me the other day was so intriguing that I had to put aside everything I was working on to start translating the writing."

Finally we are getting somewhere, Billy thought.

"I had at least two good reasons for that," the professor continued. "The first is the language; Ancient Egyptian hasn't been used for centuries. The other reason was that your artifact looked exactly like the one found in China in the 1920s, with only one difference—it is in near perfect condition." The professor took a sip of his coffee. Billy drank his hot chocolate.

"Professor Bauman," said Billy, "that name, you mentioned before . . ."

"Nostradamus?"

"Yes. Why did you ask?"

"You see, Billy, I have reason to believe that there is a connection between Nostradamus and the plates."

"What kind of connection?" Billy asked.

"Nostradamus lived in sixteenth century France. He was a writer, philosopher, alchemist, astronomer, but mostly he became famous for writing a book of prophecies, or predictions of what will happen in the future. For instance, he was able to predict the French Revolution, the rise of Adolf Hitler, even the atom bomb. Well, that's according to his supporters, of course."

"You are not one of them, are you, Professor?" Billy guessed.

"I am a scientist, Billy. I believe in facts. You see, the prophecies were written in a form of four-line poems called quatrains. Since most of them are not specific at all, they could be interpreted any way you like. Besides, you can't really tell the future just by reading them. You can only apply certain quatrains to events that have already happened to see the similarities."

"So, you don't believe any of this?" asked Billy.

"I used to be skeptical, but now I'm not so sure anymore," the professor said. "As a matter of fact, at this point I don't know what to believe."

"You're confusing me, Professor."

Professor Bauman leaned closer to Billy and announced quietly, "I was able to translate some fragments of the writing."

Bingo, thought Billy. "What did you find out?"

"Something I wish I hadn't," the professor said, as he leaned back and took a big gulp of his coffee.

"What do you mean?" Billy touched his schoolbag underneath the table with his shoe to make sure it was still there.

"As you remember, there are four rows of writing all the way around the plate," started the professor. "They were written in continuous lines, so it is practically impossible to tell where one sentence ends and another begins. Anyway, after numerous hours of laborious work, I finally completed the first line."

"And . . .?" Billy held his breath.

"A bitter disappointment," the professor replied, exhaling. "It didn't make any sense. I only had some separate words and meaningless pieces of phrases."

The professor took another sip of his coffee. Billy patiently waited for him to continue.

"So," the professor carried on, "I moved onto the second line. Good thing I did it from the same point as I started the first line."

"Why is it good?" Billy asked.

"Because it appeared that the first words from the first line linked to the first words on the second line."

The professor paused, giving Billy some time to comprehend the significance of the news. Then he continued excitedly. "The writing on the plate is not linear. All four circles of lines are divided into sectors, like a football stadium, or hockey arena, or the Roman Coliseum. After I completed the third and fourth lines of the first sector, I couldn't believe what I saw." The professor paused again. "It was Nostradamus's quatrain about the rise of Napoleon."

"Couldn't be," whispered Billy.

"So I thought," said the professor. "I went on to the next sector."

"And . . .?" asked Billy anxiously.

"Another quatrain," said the professor.

"Well, Professor, I don't understand. What's all this supposed to mean?"

"It means that the plates, dated 3000 B.C., hold engraved writings in Ancient Egyptian that were introduced by Nostradamus in his book, _The Prophecies_ , in 1555 A.D. This means he must've had the plates all this time. But how did the Ancient Egyptians know about our history, providing, of course, that the prophecies are true?"

The professor wasn't looking at Billy anymore. He seemed to be talking to himself.

"On the other hand, there is no evidence of Nostradamus knowing Ancient Egyptian. There is not a single word in his biography about any plates. Imagine how hard it is hiding something like this for your entire life." The professor sighed. "All I have are questions." Then he looked directly at Billy, "To get answers I must see the plates."

The final phrase caught Billy off guard. "I beg your pardon?" He almost spilled his hot chocolate.

"You see, Billy, when I first learned about the connection between the plates and Nostradamus's prophecies, I had to share it with somebody, simply to see whether I was right or wrong. I called my colleagues. None of them had heard anything about finding new plates. So, I made some inquires and contacted people that for sure would have known about such a discovery."

"And?"

"No one had the slightest clue," said the professor. "Thus, I searched the Internet, looking for a magazine or any announcement at all about the plates and came back with the same result—nothing, like it had never happened."

The professor leaned back in his chair and drank his coffee. Billy bit his tongue.

"Exhausted and frustrated, I returned to study the picture," continued the professor. With these words, he took out of his pocket the picture that Billy and Anna-Maria left for him the other day. "This time I noticed something, a little detail that escaped my attention at the beginning in all my excitement." The professor placed the picture on the table in front of Billy.

"Right here, in the upper left corner," he pointed with his finger. "You can see the spine of a book. There is an emblem here, showing two lions standing on their hind legs. After enlarging the picture and adjusting the resolution, I was able to see the writing underneath the emblem: _Esse Quam Videri_ , which, translated from Latin, means _to be, rather than to seem to be_. But you, of course, know what it means."

"Why would you think so, professor?"

"Because, there are two letters right next to the emblem, two initials: B and S."

Billy could not believe it; he was looking at the corner of his own school agenda.

"A quick Internet search suggested that the emblem could be a school logo. I followed that lead and found out that one of the local schools did in fact have such a logo. After that, having the name of the school, your initials and description, finding you was only a matter of time. By the way, your friend's name is probably Anna-Maria?"

Billy grabbed his bag and quickly stood up. So did the professor. Billy turned around and ran into a huge shadow, which bounced him back.

"Not so fast, mate," spoke the shadow in a low voice.

Billy looked up—in front of him stood a big man in a gray raincoat.

"I am sorry, Billy," said the professor. "I had to inform the authorities. I don't think you fully understand the gravity of this discovery."

"Oh, I think I do," said Billy and flipped over the bag.

Everything stopped; there was not a single sound, not a single movement. Billy maneuvered around the big man. Then he stopped and glanced back at their table. He quickly returned, took the professor's coffee and spilled it on the big man's pants. Steam went up—the coffee was still hot.

"Sorry, mate," said Billy and left the coffee shop.

He ran around the corner counting: twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty . . .

A scream sounded from the coffee shop. The big man looked at his pants, then at the professor's empty cup.

"Why did you do that?" he screamed.

"I didn't do that!" shouted the professor.

Billy grinned, turned around, and kept on running.

After the first wave of excitement had washed away, he slowed down to a walk. Several times he looked back to make sure that no one was following him.

His mind worked fast. What now? He was exposed. His secret was no longer a secret. They didn't know about time travel yet, but it was only a matter of time, like the professor said. The worst thing of all was that he had gotten Anna-Maria involved.

Happy birthday, A.M., he thought bitterly.

Billy felt terrible about it. Who knew what they were going to tell her? Who knew what they were going to do to her? Suddenly, it became clear to him that he had to go to Anna-Maria's right now. He had to get to her first, before those guys, and warn her. He walked faster.

* * *

# Chapter Twelve

### A Trap

The distance to Anna-Maria's house was about a twenty-minute walk. Although it was the first day of the weekend, the streets were full of pedestrians.

Billy moved at a fast pace. From time to time, he would stumble behind somebody who seemed to be barely moving to deliberately slow him down. Why is it that when you are in a hurry, everything is so slow? The traffic lights were the worst—the Don't Walk sign lasted forever.

The professor and his "friend" probably have a car, Billy thought. They're going to set a trap and wait for me there. Even if he ran the whole way, he would never make it in time.

His heart was pounding. He considered the hourglass. He could go back and forth in time if he wanted to. However, the memories of yesterday's painful experience of time travel were still fresh. Besides, he barely made it back to his own time. No, Billy wasn't ready for that yet. Then a hint of a smile appeared on his face. He didn't need to go full throttle. Instead, maybe just a little bit.

At the intersection four lanes of cars moved in both directions like a fast river without any intention to slow down. Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, Billy slowly flipped over his bag. Everything stopped.

The silence fell so abruptly that for a moment he thought he had gone deaf. Billy looked around. A dog was stopped with his tail in mid-wag. A little girl was frozen with her mouth half-open, with whatever she was saying to her mom unfinished. A pickup truck stood in front of Billy with a white cloud of smoke hanging in the air behind it. There was not a single sound, not a single movement. Billy started walking across the street, keeping count in his head: eleven, twelve, thirteen . . . When he got to the other side of the road, he whispered the rest, "Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty." A cacophony of sounds hit Billy's ears—everything went back to normal: pedestrians walked, drivers drove. Nobody had even noticed the short break in their lives.

Billy couldn't hold back a smile—he was beginning to like it. From now on, he didn't bother looking for a crossing sign—he would simply flip his bag and walk across anywhere he liked. It was so much fun, strolling in between the cars in the middle of busy traffic. Only seconds ago, cars were moving so fast, and now they were standing frozen, obeying Billy's command. All the drivers and passengers had different facial expressions, as some were interrupted in the middle of conversation, while others drank their morning coffee. Billy felt like he was at the wax museum, walking around statues of famous people that only looked alive. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three . . . Billy got to safety just in time before everything started moving again.

He kept on flipping his bag all the way, until he finally got close to Anna-Maria's house. Now he slowed down; he had to be careful. It had taken him about five minutes to get here from the coffee shop. Therefore, the professor and his "friend" were probably still on their way. But there could be others.

Billy took cover behind a tree on the other side of Anna-Maria's house. From there he could have a better view of his surroundings. He was looking for anything suspicious. So far, everything seemed to be normal. People were passing by; some kids rode their bikes; two young men in running suits stood on the sidewalk talking to each other. There was nothing unusual. A few cars were parked in front of the house. Because of the traffic, it was hard to see if there was anyone inside. Billy didn't want to leave anything to chance. He decided to stop the traffic again to get a better look. He went to the curb and flipped over his bag. Everything stopped—not a sound, not a movement. Billy lifted his foot and was about to step onto the road when out of the corner of his eye he saw something that made his blood freeze. One of the men in running suits kept on talking, while his friend slowly turned his head and looked directly at Billy.

The hourglass had no effect on them!

Billy was shocked. For a moment, he shut his eyes in disbelief and shook his head. When he opened his eyes again, both men in running suits were staring at Billy, piercing him with their eyes. Billy wanted to run, but he couldn't move; he felt like his body weighed a ton. The men, on the other hand, began to move towards him. Billy watched them walk around the cars, all the time keeping their eyes on him. With a last drop of will, Billy forced himself to flip his bag again. The seconds in his head went backwards: six, five, four . . . When the men were in the middle of the street, trapped in between moving cars, Billy's senses came back to him. He backed up and ran into somebody.

"Watch it, kid!"

Now, fully awake, Billy turned around and ran. He ran faster than ever before. He swiftly dodged in between pedestrians, trying to avoid hitting them.

Soon he heard loud voices behind him. When he glanced back, he saw a few people thrown on the ground by the runners jostling through the crowd. They were closing in on him. Billy had to think of something and he had to do it fast.

He looked at the road—a big long truck was coming in his direction. Billy ran towards it. Only a few steps before the truck he jumped in front of it across the road, flipping the bag at the same time. The truck became frozen when Billy was still in midair. One, two, three . . . He landed and flipped the bag again . . . three, two, one.

"Wrooogh!" The huge semi passed behind Billy, cutting off his pursuers.

Billy kept on running along the lanes against the traffic. Some drivers honked at the crazy boy who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. Billy flipped his bag again—

One, two; then back: two, one. Just enough time to cross another lane. It was extremely dangerous, but he counted the seconds in his mind, so he knew exactly when the traffic would stop and when it would move again. The runners, on the other hand, didn't know how long the next time interval would be. They stood on the other side of the road helplessly watching Billy getting away. Then they turned and ran to the nearest crosswalk.

When Billy got across the street, he was standing in front of the mall entrance.

Just what I need, he thought. He hoped to get lost among the crowd. He ran into the mall.

At this time, the traffic light turned red and the runners moved rapidly across the street.

Inside the mall, people were slowly moving in both directions. Billy ran in the middle of the walkway, deciding which way to go. Suddenly, someone's strong hand grabbed him and pulled him inside the crowd. Billy tried to break through but the man put his other arm around Billy's chest.

As you wish, Billy thought and flipped over his bag. Everything stopped but the runners. Billy saw them rushing into the mall. Billy tried to free himself from the man's grip, but the grip became even stronger.

"Don't move," the man whispered into Billy's ear.

Billy felt sick. I'm doomed, he thought. He was about to faint.

The runners maneuvered through the mall, looking around. They were likely searching for a boy moving chaotically among the frozen figures. But there was no movement. The runners stopped and appeared to be listening, but there was no sound.

Billy held his breath. It was so quiet that he thought he could hear his own heart beat.

What if time will never start again?

That was a scary thought. But moments later, everything came back to normal and people were moving again. The runners passed only a few meters away from Billy, then continued deeper inside the mall. The man holding Billy pulled him in the opposite direction. Billy twisted around in his grip to get a look at the man's face.

"You?" Billy exclaimed.

"Be quiet," the man said, glancing around. "We don't want to attract people's attention, do we?"

"I remember you. You're the man from the bowling alley."

"Yes. And you are the boy wanted by too many people. So you'd better keep your voice down."

"But I thought you were one of them," Billy said, lowering his voice. "It didn't work on you."

"You mean the hourglass?"

"You know?" Billy stopped. He couldn't believe what he had heard.

"Why don't we find a quiet place where we can talk?" suggested the man.

"Like what, a coffee shop?" Billy asked sarcastically.

"We'll see," said the man. "But first we want to get as far away as possible from here."

Blending in with other people, they left the mall and jumped onto a bus that had just arrived.

* * *

# Chapter Thirteen

### The Librarians

Throughout the entire bus trip, they didn't say a word. Billy had many questions for the man, but he didn't know where to start. The man quietly looked out the window. He seemed to have no intention of talking for the moment, as if he were giving Billy time to think over the whole situation. And Billy was thinking. First of all, he didn't know anything about the mysterious man. The man, on the other hand, knew about Billy as well as about the hourglass. Therefore, there was no reason to hide anything or to lie. Second, he wasn't with the runners—he had helped Billy to run away from them. And lastly, he couldn't be with the police. There was more to the man—for one thing, the hourglass had no effect on him.

As though he could feel Billy looking at him, the man took his eyes from the window and regarded Billy.

"Do I have to be afraid of you?" Billy asked.

"I intend no harm to you, if that's what you mean," answered the man.

Billy relaxed, for the first time this day.

"We'll get off at the next stop," said the man after a pause.

The bus pulled up to the curb outside a large brick building with a fountain out front, made to look like a stack of books.

"The library?" Billy asked, surprised.

"No one will be looking for you in here," the man said.

As they entered the library, the man selected a table at the far end of the hall near the emergency exit. He positioned himself so he could easily keep an eye on the main entrance.

Billy couldn't wait any longer. "Who were those guys? Why are they after me?"

"Hush. Keep your voice down," the man scolded quietly. "You're in a library."

"Why are they chasing me?" Billy whispered impatiently.

"I guess you have something that doesn't belong to you," the man replied, "and they want it back."

"I didn't steal it," said Billy.

"Finders-keepers, huh?"

"Exactly!"

"Well, then I'm afraid you're going to be running away from them for the rest of your life," said the man.

"But how come the hourglass didn't work on the runners and you? " Billy asked.

"First of all, they are not runners," said the man. "They are Librarians."

Billy's left eyebrow rose. "I always return my books on time."

"Don't be silly," the man said with a smirk. "They are a different kind of librarian."

"Do you mind explaining, please? I can barely follow," said Billy.

"All right, I'll try to keep it simple," said the man. "Look around you, Billy. What do you see?"

"Books," answered Billy, slightly surprised by the question.

"Right, books—lots of them. And each book contains a story that involves specific people and events. Each book also has a table of contents: chapter one, chapter two, and so on. You can read a book from cover to cover, or you can open any chapter you want and go from there. The end, however, is always the same. Are you with me so far?"

"Yeah," answered Billy, trying to keep up.

"Good. Now imagine that somebody keeps on changing the events in the story, rewriting different parts."

"Like who, the writer?" asked Billy.

"Could be the writer, could be someone else. That isn't important," explained the man. "What is important is that every time an event is altered it generates a totally different chain of events, creating changes in all of the other chapters of the book, making the end uncertain. Would you like that?"

"Well, not really."

"All right," continued the man. "What if I told you that there was a village at the bottom of a mountain and a volcanic eruption was about to occur, killing every living thing in the village? Would you warn the villagers or would you let them die?"

"I would warn them, of course," Billy said.

"Congratulations!" said the man. "You've just altered the book."

"What do you mean?"

"It means, that the people that were not supposed to exist in the next chapter moved on, interacting with other people and objects, willingly or unwillingly changing the line of events. All this created a chain reaction of unforeseen actions, making the end of the book unpredictable."

"Now I am really confused," Billy said. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Imagine now," said the man, lowering his voice, "that the history of mankind is written and divided into chapters, marking major historical events. Imagine that there are people looking after these chapters, making sure nobody tries to leave a mark on the page or make any changes, at least without their consent."

" _The Librarians?"_ asked Billy.

The man nodded.

"You said 'people.' I thought they were some kind of gods," Billy said.

"No, Billy. They are normal people, just like you and me," the man answered.

"Then how did they get all this power to control the time and events?"

"It started many thousands of years ago in Ancient Egypt when an underground lake was discovered by a clan of priests."

"Are you one of them?" interrupted Billy.

"They were my ancestors."

"Cool!"

"But it wasn't the water that attracted the priests' attention. It was the particular quality of it. When the water from the lake dries, it turns into little shiny crystals. When the crystals are set in motion, magical things happen. If you pour them from hand to hand, images of the future appear. Soon, a glass vessel to contain the crystals was built, and the time synchronizer was created."

"The time synchronizer? What is it?"

"You may as well call it a calendar. It is the top part of your hourglass. Adjusting it will change the air pressure inside the vessel, which will allow you to choose your point of destination."

"But how come the hourglass doesn't work on the Librarians?" asked Billy.

"Carrying a satchel with crystals provides immunity," explained the man.

Billy leaned back in his chair; he was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information he had just received. Slowly, he came to his senses again. "Knowing so much, don't you ever feel like telling somebody?" he asked the man.

"That wouldn't change anything," said the man.

"How do you know if you never tried?" asked Billy.

"There was a man who did."

"Who?"

"Have you ever heard of Nostradamus?"

"Nostradamus was a Librarian?"

"And a good friend of mine," said the man. "He wanted to tell people what he knew, to warn them of coming wars and catastrophes. He even wrote a book."

" _The Prophecies."_ Billy remembered the conversation with Professor Bauman.

"Yes," said the man. "Of course, he could only write about things he knew."

"What do you mean?" asked Billy.

"Every Librarian is assigned to certain number of chapters that he is supposed to look after."

"And then what happened?" asked Billy.

"Some people believed him, some people didn't. After all, he didn't change anything. What was meant to happen—did happen."

"But how come runners didn't catch him?" asked Billy.

"He had no intention to run. They took his hourglass and made him promise not to mention anything about it."

"One thing I don't understand," Billy said. "He could've chosen any time to live in. Why did he choose the medieval times?"

"He fell in love, wanted to be with his family."

"I see."

Billy thought of Nostradamus, who for his whole life was trying to tell a story, without being able to reveal the truth of how he came to know such things. That must have been tough.

Moments passed in silence. One more question was on Billy's mind. He was afraid to ask, but he had to.

"What's going to happen to me?"

"It's entirely up to you, Billy," the man answered. "You can wait for them to come and give them the hourglass. It will save you from lots of trouble."

"And live my whole life with all this knowledge, like your friend did?" Billy exploded. "I don't think I can do that. What if I told somebody?"

"Who's going to take you seriously?" the man asked.

"What if I refuse to give them the hourglass?"

"You'd have to run. One thing I know for sure is that the Librarians will not let you jump in between chapters, creating ripples of changes. They'll find a way to stop you."

"You mean like kill me?"

"They are not assassins. But if they have to, they can make it so that you were never born. That is, of course, providing you or your ancestors don't play a significant role in the future."

"So what should I do?" Billy felt desperate.

"It's your life, your decision," said the man, rising up.

"Wait a second. Are you leaving? Already?"

"It was nice talking to you, Billy."

"Will I see you again?"

"Nobody knows the future for certain," the man said.

"But you do," exclaimed Billy.

"Not precisely. Understand, what you do today defines your tomorrow."

When the man left, Billy wanted to cry. Never in his life had he felt so lonely. Reflecting upon the events of the last few days, there was such a contrast between the excitement he felt at the beginning and the desperation he was filled with now.

The police were after him, Professor Bauman was after him, and now a powerful ancient clan was after him, too. He felt like a trapped animal; so many people were around him, yet he felt utterly alone. He couldn't go home, he couldn't go to school—they knew all about him and would be waiting. He couldn't even go out to the street without fearing that he was being followed. His entire world as he knew it was collapsing in front of his own eyes. But why? He hadn't done anything wrong; he hadn't stolen anything; he hadn't killed anyone. Why was everyone after him? All that Billy wanted now was to bring things back to the way they were before he had found that stupid hourglass.

Wait a minute, Billy thought. That's it—the hourglass.

All he had to do was to return the hourglass to the Librarians and all this madness would be over. Since he didn't commit any crime, the police could not charge him with anything. They would ask him questions, of course, but without the hourglass and an official complaint from some museum about a stolen ancient artifact, they would eventually have to let him go. He could finally go back to his normal life, see his parents, his friends . . .

A big sigh of relief escaped from Billy's chest. The people around him didn't look so unfriendly anymore. He stood up and went out onto the street. The sky was blue. The sun was shining. Billy filled his lungs with fresh air—it felt good. He walked down the street with his chin up. He knew what to do now.

* * *

# Chapter Fourteen

### Out of the Blue

The plan was simple. When Billy saw the Librarians he would not be hiding, he would not be running. Instead, he would go straight to them and give them the hourglass. But before that happened, there was one thing Billy wanted most—to redeem himself in Anna-Maria's eyes, to show her what the hourglass could really do, and to prove to her it wasn't just a joke.

Billy put his hands in his pockets and collected some change. He went to the nearest public payphone and dialed a number. A woman's voice on the other side of the line answered, "Hello."

"Hi, may I speak to Anna-Maria please?"

"Just a moment."

Billy looked around—everything seemed normal, nothing suspicious.

"Hello?" A.M.'s voice sounded like music. She was definitely in a good mood.

"Hi, Anna-Maria. It's Billy. Happy birthday!"

"Hi, Billy. Thanks. Why are you calling me now? You're not coming tonight?"

"Oh no, I'm coming. It's just . . . I really need to see you before that."

"What are you up to?"

"Nothing. Just want to talk."

"All right. Do you want to come now?"

"Uh, no. Could we meet somewhere outside your place? Say, in our park. Remember the one we used to go to in kindergarten?"

"Do you want to play in the sandbox?" Anna-Maria laughed.

"Not really. I just want to show you something."

"I'm on pins and needles," she said.

"You better be."

"I can hardly wait."

"All right, then. I'll see you there in one hour."

Billy hung up the phone and smiled, satisfied.

When he arrived at the park an hour later, Anna-Maria was already there. She was sitting on a bench by the playground. Her Bordeaux coat perfectly matched the autumn carpet of red and yellow leaves on the ground.

"A.M.!" Billy waved as he approached her.

"Hello, Billy. How was school today?"

"What school? There was no school today."

"Then why are you carrying your schoolbag?" asked Anna-Maria.

Billy smiled—she had a sharp eye. He sat beside her on the bench.

"There's something I wanted to show you." Billy pulled the hourglass out of his bag.

"Wow, feels like _déjà vu_. Have I seen this before?"

"Look, A.M." said Billy, trying to ignore her obvious sarcasm. "I know I hurt your feelings last time, and for that I'm sorry. But you really should see what this thing can do."

Anna-Maria gently touched the glass with her long beautiful fingers. "They really are beautiful, aren't they?" she pronounced softly.

"Huh?" Billy raised his eyebrows.

"The crystals."

"Yes, they are," Billy agreed.

Still looking at the crystals, Anna-Maria asked, "What did you want to show me?"

"Okay," started Billy eagerly, "remember last time I told you that this hourglass could stop time?"

"Really, this again?" Anna-Maria sounded disappointed.

"Wait, that isn't everything," Billy hurried to continue. "Not only can it stop time, but it can also take you through time—back and forth." He paused, waiting anxiously for Anna-Maria's response, but she didn't seem to be impressed. "Well," he added, "you can only go to certain chapters."

"Chapters?" asked Anna-Maria genuinely surprised. She put her hands in the pockets of her coat and leaned back on the bench. "I am all ears."

"Now listen," said Billy, excited that he had finally gotten Anna-Maria's attention. "Thousands of years ago in Ancient Egypt a clan of priests discovered a way to travel in time. They built this hourglass and used it as a time machine. Remember, Professor Bauman suggested that the plates were a calendar?"

"Yes, of course I remember."

"He was right!" Billy exclaimed. "Only you cannot choose exactly where to go in time. You can only move in between preset events, or chapters. But that's not all.

"There are priests that are watching after each chapter. Their job is to keep things just the way they are. They will not allow any changes whatsoever. They are called the Librarians."

"Hmm," replied Anna-Maria, "interesting."

"Apparently," continued Billy, "and this I am not sure about, there are others who want to change things, to make them better, I guess."

"How do you know all that?" asked Anna-Maria.

"I met a man," said Billy. "Well, actually, he met me. He told me everything. He's one of them."

"Did he tell you his name?" Anna-Maria asked.

"No, as a matter of fact, he didn't." Billy was surprised that it never occurred to him to ask.

"So, this story that you just told me, is coming from a man who doesn't even have a name?" The doubt in Anna-Maria's voice was hurtful.

"I know it's true." Billy frowned.

"How do you know?"

"Because he saved me. I was chased by the Librarians and this man saved me."

"The Librarians are after you?"

"That's exactly what I'm trying to say," Billy exhaled as he replied.

"What do they want with you?"

"They want to take the hourglass."

"I thought you said you found it."

"I did, but I didn't know it was theirs. And now they want it back."

"So, what are you going to do now?" asked Anna-Maria.

"Well, I guess I'll just give it back to them." Billy shrugged his shoulders. "But before that . . ." He picked up the hourglass. "It is time for a little demonstration."

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary," said Anna-Maria in a cold voice. "I'm sorry, Billy, but you already know too much."

"What? What are you saying?" A gloved hand lay on Billy's shoulder. He tried to move, but another gloved hand clamped onto his other shoulder, pinning him to the bench. Billy looked back—the Librarians stood right behind him. Billy turned to Anna-Maria to warn her, but surprisingly she showed no intention to run. On the contrary, she was very calm.

"A.M., what's going on?"

"Billy . . ." Her voice had never sounded so distant. "I am a Librarian."

"You are a what?"

Something stung Billy on the neck and everything went dark.

* * *

# Chapter Fifteen

### Friendly Face

When Billy woke up, he found himself laying in darkness on cold sand. His vision was blurry. The only thing he could see was dim light coming from a white circle high up above. Oh great, he thought. I'm in the sandbox on the playground in the middle of the night. My parents are going crazy right now.

Billy sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. He must have been injected with a sleeping drug or something, but now memories were slowly coming back. Billy got to his feet and, keeping his arms in front of him, began carefully walking. His body was still shaking.

Suddenly, his fingers touched something. Billy stopped. The surface was cold and uneven. He slid his arms up and down across the surface. It felt like a stone wall. What would a stone wall be doing on the playground? He took a few steps along the wall seeking its end, but the wall kept going. He walked some more, but the wall seemed to be endless. A bad feeling like cold liquid silver filled his lungs, blocking the airway. Billy leaned against the wall and slouched down. His body was shivering.

Breathe, Billy, breathe, he thought. Don't panic. He lifted the collar of his coat and closed his eyes.

A few minutes later, when he opened his eyes again, he could finally see clearly. The wall he was sitting by indeed had no beginning or end—it was the stone wall of a well. The circle of light above that he had initially mistaken for the moon was the well opening—and the only exit. The well widened at the bottom, but there was no sign of water. Apparently, it was meant to be a cell for prisoners. Billy had no idea where he was, or, based on his recent experience, what time he was in. His only option was to sit and wait for someone to come.

Not much later he heard some noise at the top of the well. Streams of sand poured down at him, and then a rope fell.

"Climb up!" a man's voice commanded.

Billy couldn't see the man's face, only a silhouette. "I won't!" he shouted back.

"Don't make me come down there, 'cause if I do, you are going up in a bucket!"

Billy didn't have much of a choice. "All right, I'm coming up!"

He clutched the rope with both hands and started to climb. By the time he got to the top, he was all sweaty and exhausted. Strong hands grabbed Billy and pulled him out of the well. The sunlight was so bright that Billy had to cover his eyes with his hands.

"Move!" The man pushed Billy forward.

Billy started walking. When his eyes adjusted to the bright light, he was able to check his surroundings. They were walking in a courtyard covered with sand. Big walls were on both sides of the yard. Billy could see guards on the top of the walls. Ahead of Billy was a palace with tall columns and statues.

Billy glanced back over his shoulder to take a better look at his guard. It was a tall masculine man with dark skin. His clothing was made of rough fabric and leather. He had sandals on his feet and a short sword strapped to his belt above a kilt. In his hand, he held a whip.

The heat became unbearable. Billy slowed down to remove his coat, but the guard gave him a forceful push. Billy kept on moving.

When they came to the palace entrance, there were two men guarding the doorway. They wore the same clothing as Billy's guard, but instead of a whip, they each held a short spear, which made them look more like soldiers.

The guard spoke to them in a language that Billy had never heard before. The soldiers nodded. One of them went inside the palace, while the other stepped behind Billy and shoved him so hard that he fell to the floor and rolled over. The soldier nodded to the doorway and barked in the same strange language.

"Okay, I got it," mumbled Billy as he followed the first soldier inside. He wasn't a big fan of their manners, but he had no other choice but to obey.

When Billy entered the palace, the first thing he noticed was that everything was sparkling clean. There was not a grain of sand on the tile floor. The walls and columns were covered with golden frescos and engravings that somehow seemed very familiar. Only when Billy saw human statues with animal heads did he remember the same pictures from a history book.

Oh my, I'm in Ancient Egypt!

He couldn't tell whether he was more scared or excited.

The soldiers brought Billy to a big door. There stood a bald man in yellow robes.

He must be a priest, Billy guessed.

The priest went to the door and pulled a big metal ring. By the amount of force he applied, Billy could tell that the door was quite heavy. The priest pulled it open just enough for a boy to get through. He turned around and looked at Billy.

"Okay," muttered Billy and stepped inside.

The room was wide and had very limited furniture. In the middle was a stone table with bowls full of all kinds of fruits. Beside the table were a few stone benches covered with rugs.

"But, Father, please, I'm begging you. He's my friend."

Billy turned his head to the voice. There was another room separated by a curtain made of strings of golden beads. Though the people having a conversation kept their voices down, Billy recognized one of them. His heart raced.

"You cannot let your emotions cloud your judgment," said the man's voice. "He met Rohan."

"No, Rohan met him."

"Even worse," the man replied. "Rohan doesn't do anything accidentally. He does things for a reason. He is dangerous."

The door behind Billy closed with a heavy thud.

"He's here," said the man's voice.

The next moment the curtain opened and a man entered the room. He was as bald as the priest by the door, only he didn't look that old. He had a sharp nose and thin lips. His wide eyes sat deeply in his skull. He wore a golden robe and had gold rings on his fingers. Behind the man stood Anna-Maria. She looked stunning in her light Egyptian dress with bare shoulders. She wore a golden amulet around her neck and golden bracelets on her wrists.

What's with that obsession with gold? Billy thought. Even though Anna-Maria was the reason that Billy was here, he was glad to see a friendly face in this foreign world.

The man stepped closer to Billy and studied him. Billy cast his eyes down—he couldn't stand the man's piercing gaze.

"I am going to ask you a few questions," the man finally pronounced. "Your future will depend on your answers."

Billy nodded to show he understood.

"How did you meet Rohan?" the man asked.

"Who's Rohan?" asked Billy. Anna-Maria's presence gave him bravery. He didn't feel as scared as before.

"The person who told you about the chapters."

"He never told me his name," Billy said. "Maybe we're talking about different people?"

"Is this him?" The man held a photograph out to Billy.

"Wow, I didn't know you had printers in Ancient Egypt."

The man's face turned red.

"Yes, it's him. It's definitely him," Billy hurried to confirm.

"Talk," ordered the man.

Billy told him everything that happened to him from the day he found the hourglass. He told about the bowling alley, his escape from the runners, and the conversation in the library. After all, Rohan—or whatever his name was—never asked him to keep it a secret.

"Did he give you anything?" asked the man.

"No."

"Did he ask you for any favors?"

"No."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"I'd be crazy to lie to you," Billy said.

The man turned to Anna-Maria.

"This meeting wasn't an accident," he said. "Rohan always plans three moves ahead. He is up to something."

"One more reason to keep him alive," Anna-Maria said.

What? Billy thought. To keep who alive? What are they talking about?

The man went to the door, lifted the ring, and knocked. The massive door slowly opened and the priest appeared. The man told him something in the foreign language. The priest nodded and looked at Billy.

"You may go," said the man.

Billy moved towards the door. Just before leaving the room, he turned around and glanced at Anna-Maria. She couldn't look back at Billy. Her eyes stared down. Billy sighed and left the room.

* * *

# Chapter Sixteen

### Predicament

They escorted Billy back the same way they had brought him here. The priest led the way with the two soldiers behind Billy closing the convoy. When they stepped out to the courtyard, the guard with the whip was waiting. The priest told him a few words then turned around and went back inside.

The guard looked at Billy. "Let's go."

They walked across the sandy courtyard, passed the well, and kept on going.

Thank God! Billy thought. They are letting me go.

On the other side of the courtyard were a number of workshop huts. They were built of mud bricks with roofs thatched with straws.

The guard nudged Billy to enter the first one, which appeared to be a blacksmith's. The heat inside was agonizing. A half-naked man with big muscles was hammering a hot metal rod against the anvil. By the wall behind him was a forge with burning coal in it.

The blacksmith paid no attention to the visitors.

"Take off your clothes," the guard commanded to Billy, "and put this on."

He threw Billy some dusty fabrics.

"I thought I was going home," said Billy, hesitating.

"You are," said the guard.

Billy obeyed. The guard took his old clothes and threw them into the fire. Then he turned to Billy. "Let's go."

They went between some other huts. The people inside were quietly doing their work. They wore the same grey and dusty robes as Billy. Everyone was looking down; none of them dared to look at Billy or the guard.

After a while, they got to a small door in the courtyard wall. The guard lifted a heavy wooden bar that was locking the door, and set it down. He was about to push the door open when he paused and looked at Billy.

"A piece of advice, boy, and you better listen to this carefully 'cause these may be the last words you hear in this language. Keep your head down, your mouth shut, and do what others do—this way you may live another day."

"You know, your English is pretty good for an Ancient Egyptian."

The guard only grinned back. Then he opened the door and pushed Billy out.

"Welcome to your new home," the guard said and shut the door.

Billy turned around and grew numb; there were people as far as the eye could see— hundreds, maybe thousands of them. They moved like they were in a giant human hive. Everybody worked; some were digging sand, others were carving stones, and those closest to Billy were carrying buckets with dirty water from a nearby river. Among the workers, Billy recognized guards. They looked the same as his guard from the palace, except that these ones didn't hesitate to use their whips. From time to time, some worker would stumble and fall—the whip would immediately crack down on the poor fellow.

They're not workers, Billy realized, they are slaves. And I am wearing the same clothes.

Far away in the hazy distance he could see another palace being constructed. Hundreds of slaves were building a road of stone blocks between the two palaces.

The whole place was a huge construction site. The view was deplorable.

Somebody shouted at Billy, then the whizzing sound of a whip made Billy duck. If he hadn't, the whip would surely have gone around his neck. Billy rolled down into the trench, grabbed the first bucket he saw, and rushed into the line of workers moving towards the river.

I am a slave in Ancient Egypt, Billy thought. What a great day.

When they got to the river, everybody started to fill their buckets with muddy water. Billy did the same, but when he tried to lift it, he couldn't—the bucket was way too heavy. He had no choice but to fill it only halfway. After that, he went back to his line, which this time was moving back to the road.

Slaves from his line noticed his half-empty bucket and stared at him. Next, something extraordinary happened, something that Billy would never have expected. The slaves encircled Billy so the guards wouldn't see his half-empty bucket. Maybe they saw Billy's soft pale skin untouched by the sun, wind and hard labor, and maybe they felt sorry for the kid who was probably captured recently in one of the foreign caravans and brought here to work. In any case, Billy was sincerely touched by this pure manifestation of humanity by people who themselves were treated like animals—people with no future.

"Thank you, thank you," he muttered, but nobody answered. Billy said a few more words hoping to find someone who spoke English, but everyone walked silently looking down. Eventually he stopped trying. He walked slowly and quietly like everybody else, with his head down, trying to blend in.

His thoughts, on the contrary, raced in his head. It was Saturday, the first day of the weekend. He had woken up normally, looking forward to having a great day. He ate breakfast, said "good-bye" to his mom and left. Never would he have suspected the string of fateful events that had actually occurred: meeting the professor, running from the Librarians, being saved by Rohan, and getting trapped by Anna-Maria . . . Oh yeah, A.M. is a Librarian! And he had known her since kindergarten.

I wonder if she was already a Librarian, that little girl, thought Billy and smiled at his own thought. It meant that she had lied to him all these years. How could she? On the other hand, he had never asked her a direct question, "A.M., are you a Librarian?"

Besides, even when he told her about the hourglass, she remained his friend: she knew where he lived; she could have sent somebody to his house, but she didn't. She didn't want to take away the hourglass; she wanted him to return it by himself. And that's what he told her he was going to do.

That was until he spoke about Rohan. Now, when Billy looked back, he remembered how A.M.'s face changed when he first mentioned the chapters; it was like a heavy cloud covered the sun. Now, when she saw how much he knew, she had to bring him in. But why would Rohan tell Billy all this? It wasn't likely that he got tired of keeping the secret all to himself and decided to share it with someone else.

_Rohan doesn't do anything accidentally,_ Billy remembered. _He always thinks three steps ahead._

What game are you playing, Rohan? Billy wondered.

Then his thoughts went back to Anna-Maria and the conversation he had overheard: _Father,_ _please, I beg you. He's my friend._ And after that: _Another reason to keep him alive._

Was she talking about me? Was she trying to protect me?

After these thoughts, Billy felt better. He didn't feel as if he were alone anymore. Somewhere behind these walls, in that palace, there was a person who cared about him. Eventually she would come for him. He just had to hold on until then. This thought gave Billy strength he never thought he had. He had a purpose now.

Billy's line of water carriers was not the only one. There were many more lines of slaves just like it, moving in both directions, like ants in a single-file formation. As the slaves in one line moved away from the river with their buckets full of water, others were moving back to the river with empty buckets. It was a good sign, though, Billy thought. At least he would have to carry a full bucket only half the time.

As he got closer to the road connecting the two castles, Billy noticed a slight incline in the trail. At the top of the dune was a big water reservoir. From there, via aqueducts, water was going into smaller reservoirs all the way to both castles.

I hope it's not for drinking, Billy thought, emptying his bucket into the big reservoir like everybody else and turning back to the river.

After several hours of this monotonous routine under the burning sun, Billy felt completely exhausted. The murky water in his bucket didn't look so bad now. He had bloody blisters on his hands, his body was shaking, and his feet felt like he was walking on broken glass. If it weren't for the support from the other slaves, he would have become an easy target for the guards' whips.

The sun had finally crossed the sky and was slowly sinking behind the castle walls. The pipers on the walls blew into long tubes that appeared to be some sort of ancient wind instruments. A low and deep sound cut through the thick air and lingered over the valley for a long time. Everyone started to move faster. Billy could barely catch up with them. When the slaves emptied their last buckets of water, they left them by the reservoir and headed to the second castle.

Farther away from Anna-Maria, Billy thought with sadness, away from the only possible help.

As Billy and other slaves were passing through the castle gates, soldiers on the wall and guards on the ground were closely watching them. It was as if they were looking for something or someone. Billy had learned his lesson—he walked with his head down, blending in as much as possible with the others, which wasn't that difficult after all. His clothes, face, and body were as dusty and dirty as everybody else's.

Only when Billy passed the gates did he dare to look up. The courtyard was the size of a football field with the second palace on the opposite side of it. The palace was halfway complete and surrounded by scaffolding. Mixed with the crowd, Billy walked along the castle walls, passing on the way a row of huts similar to those that he saw earlier that day. From one hut came the sound of metal clanking, and another had a pile of clothes in front of it.

In a little while, Billy noticed some increase in the pace. People around him looked more animated. Behind their backs Billy couldn't see where they were going, so he simply followed the human stream.

Soon the crowd brought him to the big hut that appeared to be a kitchen, or more likely a food dispenser. Like everybody else, Billy was given flat bread, which reminded him of pita bread, and a bowl of murky, fatty liquid.

This must be soup, Billy thought. It didn't look at all like Mom's dinner, but Billy was glad to have at least something.

He found himself a shady spot by the wall and sat right down on the sand. He leaned against the wall and took a bite of his bread. Only now did Billy realize how drained he was. He could barely chew his bread, and as he did, he could hear the crispy sound of the sand grinding on his teeth. Billy sipped from his bowl. The soup was tasteless, yet satisfying. A warm wave spread from his stomach through his entire body, comforting him and at last making him feel relaxed.

Billy sat like this on the sand by the castle wall, slowly chewing his food and watching the other slaves do the same. His thoughts, however, were thousands of years and thousands of miles away from here. He thought of his mom and dad. Where are they? What are they doing now? Do they worry about him? Are they looking for him? Billy's eyelids became heavy. Slowly but surely he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

# Chapter Seventeen

### The Bright Side

Billy woke up when something fell on his lap. He opened his eyes. It was getting dark. The sky above was clear; only a few bright stars shone down their light. The guards lit the torches on the walls. Apparently, Billy had been asleep for a very short time, yet he felt refreshed as if he had slept for hours. On his lap lay a folded blanket made of the same rough fabric as his clothes. A slave beside Billy was making his bed on the sand. The blanket must have come from him.

"Thanks," mumbled Billy.

"Don't mention it."

Billy unfolded the blanket and covered himself with it, then turned to the side and rested his head on his arm ready to go back to sleep. Then his eyes widened.

Huh? Impossible!

He rose on his elbows and looked at the slave.

"It's you!"

"Why? Did you expect someone else?" asked Rohan.

"Well, kind of," answered Billy thinking for a moment of Anna-Maria. "How did you find me here?"

"I put a tracking device in your pocket."

"A tracking device? When?"

"In the bowling alley."

"So, you knew?"

"From the moment you activated the hourglass the first time," answered Rohan. "It was only a matter of who found you first—the Librarians or me." Rohan's face was serious, but his eyes were smiling. "Why so grumpy? Not happy to see me?"

"As a matter of fact, you are the last person I expected to see here, Rohan." It was the first time Billy had ever called Rohan by his name.

"I see that you've met some of our mutual friends. Nice to have you acquainted," Rohan remarked, smiling.

Billy was shocked. "How can you be so calm? Do you know that you are the reason I am here?"

"Is that so?" asked Rohan, still busy with his bed.

"Of course! If I hadn't mentioned you and what you told me about the chapters, I wouldn't be here, so far away from home!"

"Well, you may want to lower your voice if you don't want to be even farther," Rohan said, gazing around. "On the other hand," he continued, tucking himself into his blanket, "look at the bright side; you got to travel through time, see a different world . . ."

". . . become a slave in Ancient Egypt. I wouldn't exactly call it a bright side. I mean, look at this." Billy showed Rohan the bloody blisters on his hands.

"I'm sorry, kid," said Rohan, "but it had to be done."

"What do you mean 'had to'? Did you actually plan it?"

"Not precisely. Let's say, I had a hunch."

Billy kept staring angrily at Rohan, waiting for an explanation.

"Well," Rohan said reluctantly, "knowing you, I had a feeling you'd say everything to your friend. Knowing her, I had a feeling she'd have to bring you in to the High Priest for a . . ." He paused, looking for the right word. ". . . questionnaire."

"You mean interrogation."

"Look, I said I'm sorry. That was the only way for me to track him—by following you."

"Or setting me up."

It was Rohan's turn to stare at Billy without saying a word.

"Okay, what do you need him for, anyway, the main priest?" asked Billy trying to calm down.

"I've got my reasons. I will tell you later. Now, try to get some more sleep. We have to leave soon."

"Where are we going?"

"To the main palace."

"But the gates are closed and the guards are everywhere."

"Don't worry about the guards. Sleep now," said Rohan, pulling Billy's blanket over his shoulders.

Billy lay like that for some time, thinking. "Rohan," he asked after a while, "did you come all the way here for me?"

"Of course."

"Thank you."

Rohan patted Billy's shoulder.

It didn't take long for the night to close in, and soon total darkness covered the castle. Only a few torches here and there were throwing dancing lights on the sand and sleeping people, trying to break through the heavy coat of the Egyptian night.

Billy didn't know for how long he slept. He felt somebody touching his shoulder and opened his eyes.

"Time to go," whispered Rohan at Billy's ear.

Billy raised his head and looked around. Slaves were sleeping on the sand close to each other to stay warm.

Desert, Billy thought. Hot in the day, cold at night.

Carefully, Rohan and Billy made their way in between the huts, trying not to wake anyone.

"Rohan," Billy whispered, "the gates are in the opposite direction."

"We're not going through the gates," Rohan said. "There is a tunnel underneath the road that connects the two castles."

They kept on going like that for some time. Billy couldn't take his eyes from the sky. Never before had he seen so many stars, so bright and so clear. Only when a huge shadow covered nearly half of the sky did he realize that they had approached the castle.

"Watch your step," whispered Rohan as they started climbing up the stairs.

When they got to the castle entrance, Rohan stopped and cast a last look behind them to make sure they weren't being followed. Then he turned to Billy. "Give me your hand." Billy obeyed and they stepped inside.

It was much darker in there, so it took Billy some time before his eyes adjusted and he could identify objects again. On his way, he tripped a few times. It was only thanks to Rohan's strong grip that he didn't fall and hurt himself.

"You know, we could use a torch or something," Billy suggested, getting more agitated.

"To attract guards? Can't afford to get caught. Not here anyway."

Then Rohan softened up, as if realizing that Billy was, after all, just a kid.

"Don't worry," he said, "I've got something you might like. Just not now."

Rohan seemed to know what he was doing. He led the way through numerous corridors and turns without a hint of hesitation.

"Rohan, how do you know where to go?"

"I've been here before," Rohan said.

"Before they built it?"

"No, after it was finished."

Billy walked silently for a while contemplating learning the new meaning of _before_ and _after_.

When they stepped into a wide-open veranda, Billy could finally see more clearly. There was no ceiling and stars shone brightly from above. They walked all the way to the end of the veranda and stopped there, facing a solid wall with two columns by the corners. It was a dead end.

Oh no, Billy thought. We're lost.

Rohan, on the other hand, showed no sign of panic. He got close to the column on the left, slid his hand behind it, and pulled an unseen lever. They heard the clicking sound of a releasing mechanism, and a piece of the wall at the dead end moved slightly. Rohan put his shoulder against it and pressed hard. The section of wall opened wider, revealing the entrance to a tunnel.

Rohan stepped inside, though Billy hesitated.

"Are you coming?"

"Sure," Billy muttered without much enthusiasm, and sunk his body into the darkness of the tunnel.

Rohan leaned with all his body on the door and pushed it back. The door shut closed with a heavy thud, cutting off the only source of weak light. It was pitch black.

"Rohan," whispered Billy.

"Yes?"

"I'm nervous."

"Don't be."

Billy heard the rustle of Rohan's clothing. Then a dim light appeared. It was coming from the little round box held by Rohan.

"Open your hand," said Rohan.

Billy stretched out his right hand. Rohan spread the stuff from the box on Billy's palm. His palm started to glow.

"What is it?" asked Billy in amazement.

"An organic paste made of plankton that live on the bottom of the ocean. If you keep your hand open it will give you some light, not strong though, but enough to see around. If you put your fingers together and close your palm slightly as if you were holding a tennis ball, the light will gather into a beam like a flashlight."

"Awesome!" Billy played with his hand, adjusting the light. When he opened his hand, the glowing light evenly lit the walls and ceiling. When he closed his hand halfway, it was dark again and only a beam of soft green light emanated from the palm into the pointed direction.

Rohan applied the paste onto his own right hand. "I guess we're all set. It's time to go."

And they started their journey deep inside the tunnel.

* * *

# Chapter Eighteen

### Under the Road

At the beginning, the path seemed to be declining. The surfaces of the walls and floor were uneven, so Billy and Rohan had to watch their every step.

"Are we underneath the road now?" Billy asked.

"Not yet," Rohan answered.

After a while, the tunnel leveled out. Walking became easy. The tunnel's interior had also changed—the walls, floor, and ceiling were almost flat. They were made of the big white stone blocks that Billy had seen during the daytime.

"Now we're underneath the road," said Rohan.

It was cool and quiet in here. Billy could hardly believe that only a few hours ago he had been working hard outside under the burning sun among the other slaves. Technically, he still was a slave. Billy shook his head trying to get rid of these thoughts. Then he pointed his light at Rohan and asked, "Rohan, who is the High Priest?"

Rohan seemed reluctant to answer. "Knowledge could be dangerous," he said.

"You told me so much already."

"I told you just enough to get you here." Billy noticed Rohan wince, as if he regretted saying that.

"C'mon," Billy insisted. "I'm a slave in Ancient Egypt. I can die at any given moment just because my bucket isn't full enough. How much worse could it get?"

"All right," Rohan finally agreed. "His name is Khamunaph. He is a direct descendant of the first leaders of the clan. He built himself little empires in different chapters, mostly in ancient times."

"Why ancient?" asked Billy.

"Simple, uneducated people are easy to control and manipulate. Here he is almost like a god."

"But why in different times—I mean, chapters?"

"So it would be harder to track him down. There were several attempts on his life."

"By you?" asked Billy.

"I don't like violence. But there are others."

"And Anna-Maria? I heard her call him 'Father.'"

"She's his daughter, all right."

"Does she travel in time too?"

"Of course."

"But how could it be? I've known her from kindergarten. She's always been around. I don't remember her leaving anywhere for any time at all."

"You still don't get it, do you? She could be talking to you right now and the next moment she could be at any chapter she wants and then come back to the very same moment she left. You wouldn't even notice her absence. Except for the aging, of course," added Rohan after a pause. "That's why she can't be out for too long."

"No wonder Anna-Maria looked a bit older," Billy exclaimed. "But everyone kept on saying that girls grow faster. Just thinking of it drives me crazy." Then he added, "She used to be my friend."

"Let's hope she still is," Rohan responded.

***

For some time they walked silently, listening only to the echo of their own footsteps. Billy walked slightly ahead of Rohan. He obviously liked to lead the way using his hand as a flashlight. Rohan watched Billy and all of a sudden realized that this time he was looking at him differently. There he was—a regular boy from a regular school who had to undergo a terrible ordeal and still he was walking tall through the dark tunnel without crying or even complaining. For the first time Rohan looked at Billy with admiration and respect.

***

"What are you thinking about, Billy?" asked Rohan after a while.

"Can't stop thinking about home. What's happening there? My parents must be looking for me right now." In his head, Billy saw his house and a police car with flashing lights in front of it. His dad giving Billy's description to a police officer; his mom sitting on the couch talking to somebody, her eyes full of tears.

"Don't think about it," said Rohan. "If everything goes as planned, I'll bring you back to the moment you left, or any other time of your choice."

Billy tried to disregard the if. "So, basically you can bring me back to the day when I found the hourglass?"

"Absolutely."

"What's going to happen to all this then?" asked Billy.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean me being a slave here, the police looking for me there. . . . A whole new chapter of my life has been written already. What's going to happen to it?"

"This part is a bit complicated. You see, when you at first traveled in time, you created a kind of a fork in the road. Your normal timeline carried on the way it was. The other timeline, starting from the fork in the road, went parallel to it. Thus, you have created a parallel world. Now, if you wanted to come back to your previous life, before the fork, you would meet yourself, which would create a time paradox.

"Therefore, unauthorized time travel is strictly prohibited. However, if you place yourself in the exact spot and the exact time where you were in your initial timeline you can calibrate the hourglass to bring you back into your own body. The parallel world that you had created would just become a time loop and cease to exist. That is," Rohan raised his index finger, "providing you haven't done anything significant that may change the flow of events."

"Well, I agree with the 'it's complicated' part," said Billy. "Are there any parallel worlds right now?"

"There are. Whenever changes are made, a parallel world is created."

"Why would anyone want to make changes?" asked Billy.

"For many reasons—to prevent wars, catastrophes; to warn people of natural disasters. You see, some members of the clan believed that God gave them the power and it was their duty to make the world better. Of course, at the beginning no one knew about parallel worlds, so no one could predict the consequences."

"How bad are the consequences?"

"Well, sometimes the worlds overlap. That is when people start seeing ghosts and UFOs, when objects start moving for no reason, or when anything strange or hard to explain occurs. The world has become unstable. Besides, by fixing one problem the Librarians quite often created another that sometimes was even worse than the original one. That's when the separation began. Half of the clan kept on believing in changes, the other half opposed them."

"Whatever," Billy exhaled in resignation. "I just want my life back."

All this information tired him.

"Don't worry, Billy. You will get your life back," Rohan assured him.

* * *

# Chapter Nineteen

### Friend or Foe?

They kept walking down the tunnel until their lights hit a wall.

"This is it," said Rohan.

He placed his ear to the wall. It was quiet. Then he knelt down and pressed a stone on the bottom of the wall. The wall moved slightly. Rohan turned to Billy.

"We go in together, and we stay together. Should anything go wrong, be as close to me as possible. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Billy said.

"Close your hand up," said Rohan, closing his own. "We don't want the light to betray our presence."

Billy clenched his right hand into a fist. The darkness swallowed them that instant. Billy could hear Rohan straining to push against the wall. The scrape of stone on stone sounded and a streak of weak light peered through a crack in the wall. Rohan pushed harder. This time the wall moved enough for them to slide through.

They entered a wide round hall. Billy noticed three exits, one directly in front of them, and one on each side of the hall. All exits had a burning torch beside their doorways.

"Which way now?" Billy asked.

"I am not sure." For the first time Rohan looked confused. "I only remember one exit, not three."

"There was one exit!" A loud voice echoed throughout the hall.

Billy and Rohan saw a dark figure standing on the second-story balcony. Beside him stood a servant with a torch. The light from the flame illuminated the dark figure's face so they could see it.

"Khamunaph," whispered Rohan.

"Welcome, my friend," the High Priest Khamunaph called down. "We were expecting you so we made these little . . . renovations."

Rohan stepped forward to address the High Priest. "Going to all this trouble just because of me?"

"Don't be so humble, Rohan. Besides, one can't be safe enough these days."

"There are no safe days for you, Khamunaph," said Rohan.

The distant sound of approaching footsteps filled the hall. The next moment, soldiers entered from both the left and right doorways and quickly took their positions by the walls, surrounding Rohan and Billy.

"Rohan," whispered Billy, inching closer to him.

"Don't worry," said Rohan in a low voice. "It's a holy place. They are not going to kill us here. Theoretically."

That's very comforting, Billy thought with a shiver.

"As you can see, Rohan," continued Khamunaph in a loud voice, "you are not the only one who thinks three steps ahead. You also can be predictable."

"What can I say, even the sun has spots," Rohan replied calmly.

"I suspected you wouldn't just leave this boy here to die," continued the High Priest. "I knew you would come to rescue him and possibly try to get close to me. How pathetic! So, I prepared a trap and look where we are standing now."

"The boy was merely bait," replied Rohan. "I used him to find you. I wanted to talk and here we are—standing and talking."

What? Billy's eyes widened.

"You're a fool," hissed Khamunaph. "You will never make it out of here alive."

"Perhaps," agreed Rohan. "One more reason for you to hear what I have to say before you do anything irreversible. Then you can decide what to do with me and the boy."

The High Priest was clearly infuriated that Rohan had outsmarted him again.

Billy observed what was happening with an aching heart. Rohan's strategy was beyond his comprehension. If you got caught in a wild bees' nest, the last thing you would want to do is to make them angry. The High Priest could have given one simple order and had Rohan killed, finish him once and for all. Yet, he hesitated.

What could be going through his mind? Billy wondered. On one hand, Khamunaph knew that Rohan was dangerous—he admitted it himself in his conversation with Anna-Maria. Those were his words: _Rohan does everything for a reason_. On the other hand, the High Priest was controlling the situation—surrounded by guards, Rohan wasn't much of a threat.

Billy glanced at Rohan. To his surprise, the man was too calm for a prisoner.

What are you up to, Rohan? Billy thought.

Finally, curiosity got the best of the High Priest, and he made his decision.

"Very well," announced Khamunaph. "We shall talk."

He gave a command in that other language and three soldiers came behind Rohan and Billy and pushed them towards the middle exit. The rest of the troops retreated through the side doors.

The convoy of three soldiers and two prisoners marched through the labyrinth of narrow corridors. A soldier carrying a torch led the way. One of the corridors brought the convoy to another hall, illuminated by innumerable candles. In the middle of the hall was a small fountain. Clear water bubbled down a cascade of stone flowers, filling the place with a pleasant murmur.

Seeing the water made Billy realize how thirsty he was. His throat felt coarse. He would've given anything for just a little sip. As he passed just two feet from the fountain, all he could dare was to look. If a slave drank from a fountain in the palace, such insolence would have cost him his life. Billy shrugged his shoulders, shaking off these thoughts.

At the end of the hall was a massive door with a metal ring. Billy recognized it as the door to the High Priest's chambers.

A soldier lifted the ring and knocked. The door slightly opened and a priest in a yellow robe appeared. With a gesture of his hand, he invited everyone inside. Upon entering, Billy saw that the High Priest sat on a golden throne, and two other priests stood by his right side.

Billy was surprised to see that the High Priest had made it there so fast. He must have taken a short cut, Billy thought.

Khamunaph motioned Rohan to step closer.

"Well," pronounced Khamunaph, "I'm all ears." He spoke in English. Apparently, he didn't want the servants to understand the conversation. Yet, he couldn't afford the risk of sending them out.

Billy was amazed at how he reminded him of Anna-Maria at that moment. He could see her sitting on the bench at the playground pronouncing it in the same tone of voice, 'I am all ears.' Maybe the saying was right: the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. She was so much like her father.

Rohan stepped forward and addressed the High Priest. "Khamunaph, I don't expect you to like what I'm about to say. Nevertheless, we're talking and that's already progress."

He paused, gathering his thoughts, and then continued.

"Living in a better world—who wouldn't want it? No wars, no major accidents, being able to avoid earthquakes and tsunamis, or move just before a volcano erupts . . . What a beautiful dream . . ."

"It is not a dream," the High Priest objected. "We make it happen."

"In which world?" Rohan asked. "Which one of them? Because I've been to them all and it's always the same—hurricanes, earthquakes, wars . . ."

"That is the gods' will. We cannot undo it. We can only adjust to it and try to make the world a better place."

"Many people were saved, that is true—good people," Rohan said. "However, there were others who survived, those who were not supposed to. Later, they committed crimes and did horrible things."

"Where are you heading with this?" asked the High Priest, narrowing his eyes.

"Good and evil, darkness and light, positive and negative—everything has its place, all exist in perfect balance. We cannot simply remove the evil. To maintain the balance, the empty spot will be filled with another evil. This is the law of nature. Any attempt to alter it is reckless and pointless."

"This is heresy. Don't push your luck, Rohan," the High Priest said.

"You should stop changing the world," Rohan continued. "Nature has its own ways to work things out. You are not helping anyone."

"Have you completely gone mad?" exclaimed Khamunaph. "Did you forget the chapter where we prevented World War II?"

"And should I remind you about the one where Hitler won?"

Billy couldn't believe his ears. What were they talking about?

"Maybe it wasn't that bad after all," the High Priest said. "One world, one ruler. There was not a single war for decades during his reign."

"Millions of people died!" Rohan retorted.

"Some sacrifices are inevitable. Just think about it—world peace. Isn't that what humanity has been dreaming about?"

"One nation dominates and the others live the life of slaves? I don't think this is what people are dreaming about."

"People adjust, adapt, and get used to it."

"Like the thousands behind these walls who have adapted?"

"You're forgetting your place, Rohan!" the High Priest snapped.

"And you are delusional!"

"Guards!" yelled Khamunaph. "Take him!"

But the guards didn't move. They saw the High Priest pointing at Rohan but could not understand the command. In the heat of the moment, Khamunaph forgot to switch from English to Ancient Egyptian.

Using the confusion, Rohan jumped to the wall, pulled the torch from its holder, and threw it overhand at one of the priests beside the throne. The priest's robes caught fire. In panic, he ran towards the other priest, screaming for help, but instead set his robes on fire too. Both priests ran around the room chaotically waving their hands.

"The fountain, outside! Hurry!" Rohan shouted at them and pointed to the exit.

The two priests, like two fireballs, dashed to the door. The guards moved out of their way.

"Two down, three to go," muttered Rohan and made a move towards the nearest guard. The guard yelled and lunged forward with his spear. Rohan dodged to the right, parrying the spear with his left hand and making a powerful strike with his right palm to the guard's face. This maneuver took the guard off balance and threw him a few steps back. He was about to attack again but faltered. Rohan stood frozen in front of him with his arm outstretched, his palm glowing with a mysterious green light.

"Plague on you!" shouted Rohan in English. "Plague on you and your house!"

Then he repeated the phrase in Ancient Egyptian.

Glowing green patches in the shape of Rohan's hand covered the guards face. The skin appeared to be peeling off. None of the guards knew it was just a glowing spread, but in the darkness of the room the effect was horrifying.

Rohan turned his glowing palm to the other guards.

"Plague on all of you and your houses!" he shouted in both languages in a most terrifying voice and moved towards them.

The guards dropped their weapons and ran to the exit. Rohan walked behind them with his arm stretched out until the guards left the room.

"Rohan!" called Billy. He pointed to the throne—it was empty. They could only catch a glimpse of the High Priest's golden robe disappearing through a secret passage in the wall.

"Damn it," muttered Rohan.

"What is it?" asked Billy.

"We just lost our leverage; having Khamunaph as a hostage, we had a better chance."

Then he commanded Billy, "Quickly, lock the door!"

Billy picked up two spears dropped by the guards and threaded them through the metal rings on the doors.

This isn't going to hold them, he thought.

"I need your help, Rohan!"

"In a moment!"

Billy saw Rohan on his knees beside the throne. A tiny door to a secret compartment in the throne pedestal was open. Rohan reached inside the compartment and carefully took out an object wrapped in yellow linen. He slipped it inside his robe. Then he closed the door and tightened his belt.

"What did you find?" Billy asked with when Rohan approached.

"Not now. Later." Rohan cut him off. Then he glanced around. "We need to barricade the door better. Give me a hand."

They both got on one side of a stone bench and pushed with all their might, but it didn't budge. The bench was way too heavy.

"C'mon, Billy. We've got to do it!"

With a heavy groan, they made another desperate attempt. Finally it moved. Slowly, inch by inch, they pushed the bench across the room until it firmly pressed against the door.

"Good," Rohan exhaled.

He took a breath for a moment. Then he grabbed a torch and quickly went to the place where they last saw the High Priest.

"Hold it for me, will you." He passed Billy the torch.

As Billy held the light, Rohan slid his fingers along the surface of the wall, checking every crack and imperfection in it.

"What are you looking for?" Billy asked.

"Some kind of crack in the wall, indicating the entrance to a secret passage. We know it's here—Khamunaph just used it." He kept on searching but with no results.

Suddenly the exit door slightly moved. Billy and Rohan held their breath. The door moved again pushing against the stone bench. This time they could hear muffled voices behind the door.

"Soldiers," said Rohan. "We are running out of time."

His fingers ran back and forth along the golden frescos that covered the wall. Despite that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find anything useful.

"They've gotten better," Rohan said. "Let's check the other room."

Behind the golden beaded curtains, the second room was much smaller. There were a few benches by the walls and no other exit. A number of candles gave the room a dim shimmering light and a unique lavender scent.

Rohan took one of the candles and gingerly walked along the wall. Billy stood in the middle, watching.

"Grab another candle and go over there." Rohan pointed at the opposite wall. "Look for an air draft. If there is a passage behind the wall, the air will be moving faster."

Billy picked up a candle from a holder on the wall. "How do you know there is a passage here?"

"There's got to be. There is no way Khamunaph would have only one escape route."

The noises in the other room became louder. The soldiers would be there at any moment.

Holding his breath, Billy walked by the wall, keeping his eyes on the candle. The lazy flame didn't move. In the darkness, Billy didn't notice a stone bench in his way and slammed his shin into the hard edge.

"Ouch," he muttered. The flame vaguely flickered. Billy thought that was only because of his breath. He bent over and vigorously rubbed his shin. The flame kept flickering. He straightened up and held his breath—the flame was still moving. Billy brought the candle closer to the wall and the flame started dancing up and down, side to side.

"Rohan! I've got it!"

"Where?"

"Over here, by the bench."

"Good boy, Billy. Well done!" he praised him. "Now we need to activate the opening mechanism. Find something to push on, or something to pull."

Rohan searched the wall while Billy looked around and under the bench, pushing and pulling everything he could.

A loud bang came from the other room—that was the sound of the stone bench crashing to the ground.

"Too late," said Rohan in disappointment. "They're here."

Rohan and Billy turned around and faced the golden beaded curtain.

A roar sounded as soldiers burst through the front door. There was a rumble of footsteps. There were too many of them. Rohan and Billy clenched their fists ready for a final fight.

Behind them, a section of the wall swung open. Billy caught sight of a priest's yellow robe coming out of the darkness behind the wall.

"We're surrounded!" Billy shrieked.

The priest, wearing a hood, stepped out. Rohan was about to strike, when the priest raised a hand and quickly removed the hood.

"Anna-Maria?" Billy was stunned by surprise.

Their eyes met. The coldness in her eyes from when they had first met in this place was gone.

Rohan lowered his fists and bowed.

"Rohan." Anna-Maria nodded slightly. Then she addressed both of them. "Please, follow me."

She stepped back inside the passage and Rohan followed her. Billy hesitated. He still remembered having mixed feelings towards Anna-Maria. Can we really trust her? he wondered.

The soldiers' voices sounded right behind the curtain.

Oh well, why not? And Billy jumped into the dark passage.

When the soldiers rushed into the room, they were too late—the room was empty.

* * *

# Chapter Twenty

### The Floating Head

When the door to the secret passage closed, Anna-Maria took a torch from the holder that was on the wall by the door and led the way.

Emotions overcame Billy. There were so many things that he wanted to tell her about. How he was a slave and how he had to work for the whole day under the burning sun; how he met Rohan and together they ran away and later were trapped by the High Priest; how they fought the guards and how Anna-Maria came and saved them at the very last moment when they had almost lost hope. But most of all he wanted to say how glad he was just to see her again, to hear her voice again.

Billy was about to open his mouth when Rohan unexpectedly interjected.

"Anna-Maria," he said, carefully choosing his words. "Your father and I, we have different opinions about certain things."

"I know that," said Anna-Maria.

"If we are captured," Rohan continued, "it is likely that this will be the last time we see each other."

"I understand that," said Anna-Maria, locking her eyes with Rohan's.

He nodded in a sign of appreciation for what she was doing for them.

Billy didn't say a word—the moment was lost.

When they got to a fork in the road, Anna-Maria stopped.

"I have to return to the castle, using this path." She pointed at the pathway to the left. "I cannot be seen with you. You should continue that way." She gestured with the torch. "This passage will lead you to the Gate Square where you'll be able to blend in with the other slaves. It will give you some time to figure out your next step. That's all I can do for you."

"This is more than we could've asked for," Rohan said.

She was about to walk away but faltered. Then she added softly, "My father isn't a bad man."

"I know," Rohan said, "but sometimes unlimited power can blind even a good man."

She nodded. Then she turned to Billy.

"Good luck, Billy."

"Yeah. See you in class."

She smiled. "Right, see you in class."

And she left. Rohan and Billy followed her with their eyes until the light from her torch became so weak that they could barely see each other.

"Well," Rohan quietly said, "will you do the honors?"

"Right," said Billy and opened his right palm. The fluorescent green light lit the walls of the narrow passage.

It didn't take long for them to get to a dead end. As a usual precaution, Rohan put his ear to the wall and listened. It seemed to be quiet behind the wall.

What if it's a trap? Billy thought for a moment. Then he immediately pushed this thought away. He saw her eyes—A.M. would never do anything like this to him.

Rohan kneeled down and pressed a rock on the bottom. The wall moved slightly. Billy closed his palm. Darkness swallowed them instantly. They put their shoulders against the wall and pushed. It opened a bit wider and then stuck.

"The door must've jammed," Rohan whispered.

"I can get through," Billy said, and before Rohan could say anything, he wriggled himself through the crack.

Billy made the first step and froze in horror—someone or something was heavily breathing right into his face. In the darkness, Billy couldn't see what it was, but he could definitely tell that the thing was big. Something warm and wet touched his face.

"A-ah," Billy exhaled and fell back.

"Frrrr," said something in response.

Rohan stuck his head out to see what happened.

"City boy never seen a horse?"

"A horse? I thought that was a dragon or something!"

"No, my friend, no dragons here."

Billy wiped his face with his sleeve. Rohan helped him up.

"We are in the stables," he said. "Couldn't be better."

"What's so good about it?" Billy asked, trying to keep away from the horses as they walked through the stables.

"I have an idea. You'll see."

They got to the exit door, knelt down, and carefully looked outside. The main gate was only about three hundred yards away. To get there, however, they would have to cross the Gate Square, which was packed with slaves sleeping under their blankets, resting close to each other to stay warm.

"It is quiet," Rohan finally said, "too quiet."

"I don't see any guards," Billy whispered. "Maybe they don't know about us yet?"

"I wouldn't count on it," Rohan answered. "I can bet you anything they are probably hiding on the walls watching, waiting for our first mistake."

"How are we going to open the gate and stay unnoticed?" Billy asked.

"We are not using the gate," Rohan said.

"We are not?"

"No. Do you see that hut just beside the gate?"

"Yes."

"There are two wooden barrels next to it."

"I see the barrels," Billy confirmed.

"The hourglass is inside the one nearest to the hut."

"How do you know it is still there?"

"Sometimes you just have to have a little faith," Rohan said. Then he looked at Billy, his eyes smiling. "So, what's your plan?"

"My plan?" Billy didn't expect such a turn. "Basically, my plan was to follow your plan."

"Anyone can follow, very few can lead. Think, Billy. What would you do to get to that barrel?"

Billy looked outside again, this time thoroughly analyzing his surroundings.

"I would probably go by the wall. The area there is darker, so it would be easier to get through undetected," he finally concluded.

"Very well," said Rohan. "What if you wake one of the slaves? He will make noise and you will be easy to spot."

"Then"—Billy thought for a moment—"I would wake more slaves, so I could blend in and hide among them."

"Good thinking, Billy, very good," Rohan praised.

Billy smiled.

"If I could make a suggestion," Rohan added. "What if instead of waiting for a situation to happen, we create one, only on our terms?"

"What do you mean?" Billy asked.

"At first, we wake all the slaves, and then, using the confusion, we get to the other side of the square."

"But how do we wake them all at the same time?"

"With the help of our new friends." Rohan nodded back at the horses behind them.

The shadow of doubt on Billy's face didn't escape Rohan's attention.

"C'mon," he said. "Come over here."

They stepped over to the nearest horse. Rohan took Billy's hand and placed it lightly on the horse's head. "Here." The animal was a bit nervous but not aggressive. Its pelt was warm and fuzzy. Billy gently stroked across its head. The horse jerked its body and shook its head, and then made a step forward, closer to Billy.

"I think he likes you," Rohan said.

"Yeah," Billy replied with a big smile of relief. "Oops, I left a mark." A green glowing streak stretched on the horse's head. Billy was about to wipe it clean, when Rohan stopped him. "Leave it. It is a part of the plan. Put some more on."

Billy made a few more strokes painting the horse's head in fluorescent green. Rohan took out his small round box and also applied the rest of his glowing spread on the horse's head. In the dimness of the stables, the green light seemed to be especially bright.

"This should really distract them." Rohan patted the horse, satisfied. Then he turned to Billy and said in a very serious tone of voice, "When the horses start running, stay with them. All we have to do is to get to the other side of the square to the barrel with the hourglass. Once we get there be as close to me as possible. Understood? "

"Understood," Billy said.

"All right, then. Let's do this."

Rohan swung the stable gate open and slapped the horse's back. The horse jerked and galloped forward.

"Hup, hup, hup!" Rohan shouted, opening the other gates and letting the rest of the horses out.

"Go, go, go!" Billy shouted too.

When the guards on the palace walls turned their heads towards the noise, they stood there in awe and disbelief—the green glowing horse's head, like a horrifying creature from another world, flew in midair right through the crowd, scattering people in all directions. Chaos and panic took over the place.

Rohan's plan had worked perfectly. The running horses created a path in the middle of the square—the road to freedom was open. Billy ran towards the opening, watching slaves literally running for their lives. When he got closer to them, only then did he notice something that gave him goose bumps.

"Rohan!" he shouted. "It's a trap! They are not slaves!"

Rohan took a better look at the running people. Billy was right—they weren't slaves, they were soldiers.

"Get on the horse!" Rohan shouted.

"I can't! I don't know how to drive that thing!"

"Just do it, Billy! We've got to get to the other side!"

Billy stood there helplessly watching horses pass by, one by one. How am I supposed to do this?

By this time, the soldiers noticed Billy and Rohan. They regrouped and began moving towards them.

"Rohan!" Billy desperately called.

"Hold on!"

As the last horse came out of the stable's gate, Rohan grabbed its mane, ran alongside it, jumped and pulled himself up. Then, he steered the horse towards Billy.

"Raise your hands!" he shouted.

As he got closer to the boy, Rohan leaned to the side and without slowing down, grabbed Billy's hand and with one strong motion pulled him up onto the horse's back behind him. Billy anxiously pressed his body to Rohan's and locked his arms around his waist.

The first horseback riding experience in Billy's life was anything but smooth. His body was shaking up and down as if he were riding a bicycle downhill on a rocky road. Only this time he wasn't sitting on a bike—underneath his little body was a big, strong living creature. Billy felt the horse's muscles move as it ran. The feeling was both amazing and appalling.

More torches appeared on the castle walls and on the ground, illuminating the night. Everywhere Billy looked he saw signs of devastation and confusion: blankets and weapons scattered all over, running people and horses, commanders shouting at soldiers in an attempt to get them organized . . .

Suddenly, their horse veered sharply to the left. It happened so fast that Billy almost lost his grip. Rohan shouted and pulled the stallion's mane, but that was useless—they kept on riding in the opposite direction. Billy looked back and saw what made the horse change course—the soldiers by the gate had finally regrouped and had built a human barrier with long rectangular shields put together and spears protruding in between. Rohan desperately tried to turn the horse around but it wouldn't respond. The screaming people, darkness, dust, and spears made the young stallion panic, and now it was totally out of control.

Rohan and Billy were about to lose their last hope when something extraordinary happened. Right in front of them from the corner of the nearest hut appeared a floating horse's head. It was glowing with mysterious green light and was moving up and down like a boat on the waves. The head was moving towards Billy and Rohan. Their stallion stopped abruptly. Then it stood up on its hind legs, neighing frightfully and raising its front legs high in the air. Rohan had to lean closer to the horse's back and strengthen his grip to prevent himself and Billy from falling. When the stallion's front legs touched the sand, it started running again. This time it was moving in the right direction—straight to the castle gate.

The floating head followed behind.

* * *

# Chapter Twenty-One

### The Leap of Faith

Within seconds their horse switched from canter to full gallop. Billy clutched Rohan's back, preparing for the worst. To his surprise, however, the more speed they gained, the smoother the ride became. He could still feel the stallion's muscles moving beneath him and a slight vibration when its legs were pushing forward. Nevertheless, this time the ride felt more like a flight—smooth and seamless. Billy's fear gave way to excitement. The speed at which they were riding was incredible. He had never imagined a horse was capable of going so fast. The wind blew in his face, mussing up his hair and making his eyes water.

But when Billy frantically wiped his eyes, he saw a picture that made his excitement vanish—not only was the human barrier still there, blocking the way to the gate, this time it stretched all the way across the square. There was no way to go around it.

"Rohan!" Billy shouted, pointing.

"I see it!" Rohan shouted back. "Hold on tight!"

Rohan had no intention of slowing down. Even if he did try, the stallion wouldn't follow the command. At full speed, they were getting closer and closer to the row of shields and spears.

How are we going to pass? Billy thought. Then an ominous guess struck him. _Oh no!_ He braced himself.

Only a few feet before the human barrier, the stallion pushed hard with its hind legs and made a giant leap high into the air. It felt like time had stopped. As if in slow motion, Billy watched the expressions of awe on the soldiers' faces as they turned their heads up and followed him and Rohan flying over them. All they could do was watch helplessly. When the stallion landed, it kept on running at full speed.

"Yes!" shouted Billy. "We did it!"

He looked behind and saw the human barrier falling apart as the glowing horse's head floated through it.

"We have to jump!" Rohan brought Billy back to reality.

"What?" Billy shouted.

"I cannot stop the horse! We have to jump!"

It seemed like Billy's luck had completely run out. It was one thing to ride a horse at full speed—it was another to jump from it.

"I can't!" Billy shouted.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine!"

They were riding now down the lane of huts—blacksmith, pottery, garment . . . When Rohan saw a pile of clothing near one of the huts ahead of them, he extended his right arm back to Billy and shouted, "Grab my arm!"

Billy hesitated.

"Just trust me, Billy!"

Billy grabbed Rohan's wrist with both hands. When they got closer to the garment hut, Rohan swung his hand and threw the boy on a pile of dusty robes. Billy landed on the soft fabrics and rolled over his head onto the sand. He stood up quickly and looked around. To his surprise, nobody attacked him. In all the chaos and disruption, his little stunt went unnoticed.

Meanwhile, Rohan was getting closer to the hut with two barrels. He looked around, searching for the best landing spot. Two soldiers, running away from his uncontrolled horse, gave him an idea. He stood up with both feet on the stallion's back, spread his arms and jumped onto the soldiers' backs. Under Rohan's weight, they fell to the sand. Rohan rolled over and promptly got back on his feet. Without wasting any time, he ran to the wooden barrels, which were now so close.

When Billy fell, he lost sight of Rohan. People and horses blended together in one big mess. There was only one place where Rohan could be. Billy found the gate and the hut beside it and started running.

Soon he heard somebody calling out.

"Billy!" It was Rohan's voice. "Billy, where are you?"

Billy ran to the voice. A minute later, he saw Rohan, surrounded by the group of soldiers. He was swinging around a spear above his head, trying to keep soldiers away.

"Over here!" Billy waved.

"Get to the barrels!" shouted Rohan, parrying one of the soldiers' attacks.

Billy saw the barrels not far away and dashed toward them. Two soldiers noticed him and ran across. Billy darted into a narrow pass in between two huts. One of them had a wall of baskets stacked beside it. Billy tripped over one of them and fell.

A doomed, dreadful thought flashed through his mind.

He glanced back and saw the wall of baskets collapse, slowing down his chasers. Billy jumped onto his feet and kept on running.

Finally, he made it to the first barrel. All he had to do was to flip the hourglass, and this whole nightmare would be over. He lifted the lid and looked inside—the barrel was empty. In frustration, Billy toppled the barrel on its side and rolled it toward the oncoming soldiers. He jumped to the other barrel and was about to open the lid when one of the soldiers reached out and grabbed his shoulder. The next moment the blunt end of a spear ripped across the soldier's ribs. The soldier pulled back his hand and with a moan fell on his side. Rohan had come just in time.

"Are you all right?" Rohan asked.

"Yeah! Behind you!"

Rohan glanced over his shoulder and without turning around made a powerful back kick. His heel went right into the middle of the soldier's chest. The soldier's body flew into the air with his feet above his head and landed on his back with a heavy thud. The guard from the other side swung his sword at Rohan's head. Rohan bent his knees and dove under the sword. As he straightened up, he grabbed his opponent's arm, pulled it and at the same time drove his knee right into his ribs. Then he kicked his opponent's elbow with the same knee. The guard moaned and dropped the sword. With a wide and swift motion, Rohan landed his right forearm onto the guard's neck. The guard went down like a sack of potatoes.

Billy just stood there with his eyes wide open, watching with astonishment as Rohan fought.

Rohan turned to the barrel and lifted the lid. Another soldier yelled and lunged with a spear. Rohan used the lid as a shield to parry the attack. Then he spun and slashed with the edge of the lid across the soldier's forehead, adding another body to the pile on the ground.

"Billy, get close to me!" Rohan commanded.

He reached to the bottom of the barrel and pulled out the hourglass. Billy jumped to Rohan and locked his arms with all his might around his body. Another soldier was on the move but Rohan's strong uppercut sent him into a deep sleep.

"Sorry buddy, no hitchhikers," Rohan said with a grin.

He turned the top plate and flipped the hourglass.

Everything went dark and silent.

* * *

# Chapter Twenty-Two

### The Last Chapter

"Hmmm, it smells delicious," Billy's dad picked up his spoon to eat. The steam from the bowl rose to the ceiling, filling the kitchen with the tasty smell of mama's favorite chicken soup. "I'm telling you, you're the best chef ever. If you ever open your own business it should be a restaurant."

"What do you know," mused Billy's mom, "maybe I will."

She put a basket of bread in the middle of the table.

"Where is that boy?" asked Billy's dad. Then he raised his voice to call him. "Billy, how long do we have to wait?"

"Billy, your dinner is getting cold!" called Billy's mom.

"Mom, Dad, I'm coming!" shouted Billy. "I'm coming!" He rose on his elbows.

A hand pressed on Billy's shoulder, keeping him down. "Easy tiger," said Rohan, and pulled up the blanket.

Billy sat up and looked around. He had been lying on a bench. He couldn't figure out where his parents had gone so quickly. "Where am I?" he asked in confusion.

"We are in my lab," Rohan answered.

The place was very much similar to the one where Billy had found the hourglass. There were no windows. The room was aglow with the light of a few candles on the wooden shelves and a kerosene lamp over the table in the middle of the room. It was cleaner, though, and better organized.

He wasn't home, then.

"I just saw my mom and dad," Billy said with sadness.

Rohan sighed. "Don't worry, kid, you'll see them soon."

"Why can't I see them now? Why can't I go home right now?"

"Because now is too dangerous," Rohan said. "Understand, there is no place or time safe enough for you. You've seen too much already."

"Even if I told, who is going to believe me?"

"True. Still, we don't know how far Khamunaph will go. He is a very ambitious man. I cannot risk your life."

Billy shook his head.

"Stay with me," Rohan said, "and bear with me for a little longer. It will all be over soon. I promise."

Billy sighed. Rohan patted him on the shoulder. Then he went to the table, back to his work. From the bench, Billy saw the hourglass standing on the table along with some instruments.

"What time is it now?" Billy asked.

"It's about seven p.m.," answered Rohan. "You were exhausted and I didn't want to wake you up."

"Well, I meant _which_ time is it?"

"Ah, it is February 4, 1975. Not far from your time."

"You said seven p.m. Did I sleep for the whole day?"

"Almost, but not exactly. We are in a different time zone now."

"What time zone?" Billy asked, still partly asleep.

Rohan put his tools down and turned to Billy.

"As you know, the world is divided into time zones. When, for instance, it is noon in America, somewhere on the opposite side of the globe, say in Mongolia, it is midnight, right?"

"Yeah, so we are in Mongolia?" asked Billy, still confused.

"No, Billy, we are not in Mongolia. We are in Haicheng, China."

"China? How did we get to China?"

Rohan paused, looking for a better way to explain.

"Okay, Billy," he started, "imagine that you are in a fast moving train car. If you simply jump up, you will land at the same spot. However, if you could jump very high you would've landed slightly behind your original spot simply because all the time that you were in the air the train kept on moving forward. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Okay."

"Now, if you look at Earth from space, you'll see a blue ball that constantly spins about its axis," Rohan continued. "If you think of it as a moving train . . ."

"Oh, I get it," Billy cut in. "So, if you jump high enough, like into space, then when you return back to Earth it has already turned and you will land in a different spot, or country."

"Precisely, with only one difference—you don't have to jump. It appears that some of the common laws of nature, as we know them, do not apply to the crystals. When the crystals are in motion, the holder of the hourglass for that period of time happens to be taken to a totally different dimension. The desired time and location can be adjusted by turning the dials, or the plates."

"I thought the plates were just a calendar," Billy said. "How do you change the location?"

"Thanks to the secondary function of the small dial," Rohan answered. "When all three plates are leveled, it could be used as a watch with lines in increments of two, which means one line equals two hours. Well, not precisely, but pretty close."

"I see," Billy said. "Does that mean the location could only be changed along the latitude?"

"Bingo!" exclaimed Rohan. "Pretty good for a young boy."

"Geography is one of my favorites," said Billy, pleased.

"Of course," Rohan added, "to be more precise, you'd have to take into account planetary pole tilting, but you don't have to worry about it for now."

Billy sat quietly for some time, thinking. Then he remembered. "You know, when I was in the bowling alley, I turned the dials."

"You were lucky you didn't change the time of day," Rohan said. "Earth's full rotation takes twenty-four hours. Should you give the small dial a half of a turn, which is twelve hours, you would've woken up on the opposite side of the globe."

"Oops."

"That's not the worst case scenario yet. Should you have turned that dial only a quarter turn, you would've ended up somewhere in the ocean."

"Ouch."

"We don't want any 'oops' or 'ouch,' do we? Therefore, we should both agree that I will be in charge of the hourglass. Deal?"

"Deal." Billy nodded, frowning. He wished he could play more with his toy, but Rohan had a point.

Billy slipped into his sandals and walked to the table. In the shimmering light of the kerosene lamp, there was the hourglass, stripped down to its parts, and a bunch of tools. Over a piece of yellow linen in front of him, Rohan held a round stone plate with a number of small channels carved on it. Billy recognized the fabric.

"Hey, isn't that the package you took from underneath the throne?"

"You are very observant, Billy Somers."

"I thought it was some kind of treasure, not just a piece of rock."

"For your information, young man, this piece of rock is of great importance," said Rohan. "In fact, this plate is the main purpose of our little adventure".

"I thought that the main purpose was to find the High Priest and talk to him."

"Do you play chess, Billy?"

The question caught Billy off guard.

"Well, yeah," he muttered.

"In chess you don't make one move and then think of a next one. You plan three or five moves ahead. And not only your own moves but also your opponent's possible response. This way it will be difficult for him to set a trap for you."

"I don't like chess," Billy admitted.

"Why?" Rohan raised his eyebrows.

"Sometimes I play with my dad, but he always wins."

"Oh, I see." Rohan exhaled. "You have to understand one thing: in chess winning is not everything."

"What? What is it then?"

"Thinking," answered Rohan. "Every time you play, regardless of whether you win or lose, you learn to think. That is the main purpose of this game."

"What's the fun playing, if you know you are going to lose?"

"Don't worry, Billy. When your thinking improves, victory will come."

_Easy for you to say,_ Billy wanted to say, but instead he pointed at the round plate.

"So what is it, anyway?"

"It's a time synchronizer," Rohan said.

"Oh, I remember you mentioned it before."

"That's right. Each hourglass has a time synchronizer, which enables its owner to travel between certain chapters."

"It's just a piece of rock. How does it do it?" asked Billy.

"Adjustable air pressure," answered Rohan.

"What do you mean?"

"Inside the hourglass the air is compressed. When activated, it travels through one of these tiny channels"—Rohan pointed at the network of channels, engraved on the back of the plate—making the crystals move with a specific speed and pattern. That's why you never see the crystals falling down in a single stream. Each channel is unique and corresponds to a certain chapter."

"And when you don't touch the plates and simply flip the hourglass . . ."

"It only freezes time, or withdraws you from reality, until the last crystal falls, depending on how you look at it."

"Now I see," said Billy slowly. "So, what are you doing with this plate and what makes it so special?"

"This plate, my friend, is one of a kind. It will take us to the chapter that is off limits for any Librarian."

"Huh?"

"Adding another channel on the bottom of the plate will change the air flow and subsequently the way the crystals fall, thus creating a path to the forbidden zone."

"What chapter?" Billy asked, licking his dry lips.

"The _Last Chapter_."

Billy was shocked. It never occurred to him that there might be a last chapter. Did this mean like the end of the world?

* * *

# Chapter Twenty-Three

### The Bag of Surprises

Suddenly Billy felt lightheaded. His body tilted to the side. He clawed the table with his fingers in order not to lose balance.

Rohan looked at Billy's pale face.

"Oh boy." He pulled Billy a chair. "Sit, drink this."

He gave him a small metal can. Billy allowed a few drops into his mouth. The liquid was sweet and refreshing. He finished the drink in a few gulps. He felt much better.

"That was delicious." Billy exhaled and placed the empty can on the table. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure," Rohan shrugged his shoulders. "Some kind of a local drink I picked up in the grocery store earlier today." He brought the can closer to his eyes. "Lychee drink," he read the label.

"I love lychee!" Billy exclaimed.

"Oh my, you must be hungry," Rohan said. "You haven't eaten all day."

He reached for the bag under the table. "Here, try this."

Rohan handed Billy canned soup, a plastic spoon and a loaf of bread. Billy pulled the tab and opened the can. Cautiously he tried its contents. Well, he thought, it's not exactly mama's soup but it will do. Minutes later, he was scraping the remaining soup from the bottom of the can. After hours of rest, and with food in his stomach, Billy felt full of energy again. He leaned back in his chair, allowing his body to absorb his dinner. The events of last night flew through his mind. Then his face contorted with anger. He slammed the empty can on the table. "I can't believe Anna-Maria betrayed us like that!"

Rohan almost dropped his tools. "What?"

"You saw that. She led us directly to a trap! Soldiers were everywhere!"

"How could you even think like that?" Rohan exclaimed. "If they knew where we were coming from, why didn't they set a trap right there in the stables?"

Billy never thought of that. "I don't know," he answered, perplexed.

"And how do you explain that it took them so long to notice us?"

"I don't know." Billy's voice lost its confidence.

"Those tunnels have more than one exit," Rohan remarked. "Since Khamunaph didn't know which one we were going to use, he must've set traps in different places."

"So, Anna-Maria . . ."

"She risked her life to save ours," finished Rohan.

Billy felt ashamed of his thoughts and at the same time relieved—they were still friends.

A few minutes later, Rohan finished carving the plate and gave it a satisfied look. "All right, I'm done here." Then he turned to Billy. "There is some warm clothing over there by the wall. You'd better put it on."

By the wall near his bench, Billy found a pile of clothes. There were leather boots, warm pants, a sweater, a jacket, a warm hat, and a pair of gloves.

"Do I have to wear all of it?" asked Billy. The Egyptian heat was still fresh in his memories.

"You'd better," answered Rohan. "It's freezing cold outside. It's February."

"I'm not cold," Billy said.

"That's because this lab is in a building with a centralized heating system. Trust me, you'll need it out there."

As Billy started to change, Rohan began to reassemble the hourglass.

They finished almost at the same time. When Billy zipped up his jacket, Rohan positioned and locked the last plate. Then he took a needle, like the ones that are used to inflate a basketball, and inserted it into a small hole in the frame. He connected an air hose to the needle and turned on a portable pump. It started to hum.

"What is this for?" asked Billy.

"To set the right air pressure," answered Rohan, keeping his eyes on the air gauge. When the moment was right, he quickly removed the needle.

"We're all set," said Rohan and sunk the hourglass into a backpack. After that he put on his coat, buttoned it all the way up, put a warm winter hat on his head and warm gloves on his hands. He sat down on a chair and put the backpack on his lap.

"Now what?" Billy asked.

"Now we wait," Rohan answered.

"Wait for what?"

"The earthquake."

"The what?" Billy almost screamed.

"There will be a powerful earthquake here," said Rohan in the same calm voice.

"When?"

"In about a minute or so."

"What . . .? How . . .? Of all the times and places, why in the world did you choose this one?"

"Who's going to look for us here?"

Billy was speechless.

"Don't worry," Rohan assured him. "This building won't sustain any serious damage."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've been here before."

Billy sat there on his bench, staring at Rohan who was hugging his backpack on his lap, and suddenly he realized that he reminded him of the magician from the school show with his bag of surprises—the bag seemed to be empty, but every time the magician put his hand in it, he would pull out something new. The scary question was: How many more surprises were left in Rohan's bag?

"We need to tell somebody," said Billy when his heartbeat had slowed down, "to warn people."

"Don't worry, it's been done already. Most of the people are evacuated."

Billy wanted to say something else but he couldn't—a low rumbling noise came from somewhere deep below the floor. The next moment, the floor suddenly shifted to the side. The shockwave was so strong, it threw Billy off the bench. He heard the sound of broken glass. The whole room abruptly shifted to the other side, then back and then forward and to the side again. The wooden shelves by the walls collapsed, scattering candles around and killing their light. The room got darker and only the kerosene lamp over the ceiling swung chaotically from side to side, sending crazy shadows all over the place. Billy tried to stand up but was immediately thrown back to the floor. He felt as though he was a little hamster in a cage and some crazy kid was violently shaking it.

"Stay down!" He heard Rohan's voice. Billy looked at the direction of the voice and saw Rohan sitting on the floor under the table. With one hand, he was holding the backpack, his other arm coiled around the table leg. "Stay down and find something to hold on to!" Rohan shouted again.

Billy gazed around. Wooden wreckage and broken glass covered the floor. There was nothing to grab. Then he had an idea. As quick, as he could, he rolled under the bench and clung to the wall. He did that just in time. The next second, the wall at the far end of the lab gave way. Under the tremendous pressure of continuous shockwaves it fell apart, sending debris of rock all the way across the room. Billy instinctively put his arms over his head. He heard some rocks hitting the bench. Then silence fell.

For some time Billy didn't dare to move. When nothing else happened, he finally

looked around. Through the cloud of dust, he saw a huge hole where there used to be a wall. A weak light coming from outside lit what remained of the lab. In the middle of the room, Billy saw a pile of rocks. The heavy table stood there almost vertically, buried under debris.

"Rohan!" shouted Billy. There was no answer.

As quickly as he could, Billy hustled from under the bench and ran to the table. When he got closer, he found Rohan sitting behind the table. A heavy coat of dust and small rocks covered his body, blending him in with the pile.

"Rohan!" Billy shouted and shook Rohan's shoulders.

He heard a weak moan. Then Rohan raised his head. "I'm getting too old for this. Way too old."

"Thank goodness you're alive!" Billy exclaimed. He helped Rohan to his feet.

Rohan shook off some dust and glanced around. What used to be his lab only a minute ago was now a heap of wood, glass and rock. Surprisingly, Rohan didn't seem angry. Instead, he was rather baffled.

"Well, that's new," he said, looking at the broken wall.

"What do you mean?" Billy asked.

"This never happened before," Rohan answered.

"Yeah, you said the building wouldn't be damaged!"

"Well, something has changed."

"What's changed?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" shrieked Billy in a gush of anger.

"It means I don't know!" Rohan snapped back. Then he took a deep breath. "Maybe the guy who was supposed to build a stronger wall years ago didn't make it to work because he got hit by a bus, driven by another guy who was born many years ago only because his parents survived a flood they weren't meant to survive. Billy, I don't know."

"So what do we do now?" asked Billy calming down.

"Plan B."

"What's plan B?"

"Expect the unexpected. We don't know what else changed. Keep your eyes open and be ready for anything."

Rohan put the backpack with the hourglass behind his back and secured the straps. "First of all we have to leave this building. It may collapse at any moment."

Hastily, they climbed up the rock pile. It was getting dark outside.

When they stepped into the cold winter air, a scene of utter devastation struck them. Every building on the street was either partly or completely destroyed and the streetlights were out. Some places were on fire, which broke the darkness and illuminated the streets.

Billy and Rohan began making their way through the crumbled remains of what used to be a once densely populated city. The ruins and patches of fire, mixed with dust and smoke, made the city look like a war zone. A number of people stood in the middle of the street. Some were crying; others shook their heads in disbelief. Dust covered their clothes and faces, making them all look alike.

"I thought you said everyone left," Billy said.

"There are always some stubborn folks who refuse to go," Rohan replied.

"But why?"

"For many reasons. Mostly it's either they don't believe or they pretend they don't care." Rohan paused. "That is, until it really happens."

He seemed to have little compassion for those people. They were warned. They had made their choices.

* * *

# Chapter Twenty-Four

### Plan C

"Try to stay in the middle of the road," said Rohan to Billy as they walked down the street.

"Where are we going?" asked Billy.

"Our point of destination is about eighty miles from here," Rohan answered. "But first we need to collect some water and food, enough for three days, at the least."

"Three days? We are going to be here for three days?" exclaimed Billy.

"This isn't my intention, but we should be prepared for the worst."

When they reached a crossroad, Rohan stopped. "Wait here," he said, "I've got some shopping to do."

Billy watched Rohan disappear into the dark ruins of what used to be a convenience store.

Something cold and wet touched Billy's face, then again, and again. He looked up; snow had started to fall. The first snowflakes were very little, then they grew bigger and bigger. Billy lifted the collar of his jacket. He started to appreciate his warm clothing. Yet somehow, he didn't quite feel the warmth. There he stood, a little boy amidst ruins and fire, with smoke in the air and snowflakes on his cheeks in a foreign city, in a foreign country, and in a foreign time. It wasn't the weather, though, that made Billy feel cold—it was the chilling breath of loneliness that once again crawled under his skin, squeezing his little heart with its icy claws.

Billy wanted to cry. It would be only natural if he did under the circumstances, but he didn't.

Instead, he stood frozen in the middle of the crossroad looking at the same spot where Rohan had disappeared minutes ago. Luckily, Rohan wasn't away for too long. When his silhouette appeared from the darkness, Billy jolted towards him. He swung his arms around Rohan and dug his face into his coat.

"What? What happened?" asked Rohan alarmed.

Billy just shook his head and tightened his grip. Rohan lowered his bag of provisions and put his hands on Billy's shoulders.

"Don't worry, Billy," Rohan said. "You're a brave little kid, but I won't leave you alone anymore. I promise."

Billy raised his watering eyes to Rohan and nodded.

"Hey, look what I've got!" Rohan said cheerfully and opened his bag.

Billy kneeled down and looked inside. There were a few small bottles of water, some beef jerky, and a bunch of candy bars.

"Isn't it stealing?" Billy raised his eyes at Rohan.

"Maybe it would be if we took a truckload of goods," Rohan replied. "We only took enough to live another day. Under the circumstances, I would call it survival. Don't worry; have a treat."

Billy searched inside the bag. He found the candy he liked and was about to take it when all of a sudden Rohan squeezed his hand tightly. At first, Billy thought that perhaps he wasn't allowed that particular candy, that maybe Rohan wanted that one for himself. He tried to pull back, but Rohan squeezed his hand even more strongly. "Don't breathe," he hissed in Billy's ear.

It wasn't what he said that made Billy hold his breath, but how he said it.

Without moving a muscle in his body, Billy took his eyes away from the bag. He was staring at the snowflakes that were hanging in the air in front of his face. They weren't moving. There was no sound, only absolute silence. Billy knew what it meant. He held his breath so the vapor from his mouth wouldn't give him away and counted the seconds. There shouldn't be more than thirty, he thought. Nearby he heard the rustling sound of clothing. Was it over? No, the sound was isolated. Then there was a crunching of snow under someone's footsteps. The sound was getting closer. Billy was itching to look back, to scream and to run but he didn't dare, especially with Rohan's tenacious grip tightening around his wrist. It was hard to tell how many people were there, but for sure there were more than one. The footsteps were sounding farther away from them now.

All the sounds came back at once as if someone had switched a TV from "mute" to full volume. Rohan straightened up.

"They are onto us. We've got to move."

"How do you know they are looking for us?" asked Billy with hope in his voice. "Maybe that was this chapter's Librarian just making his way."

"Where? To the library?"

Billy smiled, but Rohan's face remained straight.

"First the wall, now the Librarians. I don't think so." He shook his head. "Too many coincidences."

He picked up the bag with provisions and handed it to Billy.

"Not too heavy?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Billy answered and strapped the bag over his shoulder.

"This way," said Rohan, heading to the half-ruined four-storey building.

"Where are we going?" asked Billy.

"Inside," Rohan said, "away from open spaces where we could be easily spotted."

"I thought you said to stay in the open."

"Plan B. We are going in."

"Wouldn't that be plan C or something?"

Rohan stopped abruptly and turned to Billy.

Uh-oh, Billy thought. He could see that Rohan's lifestyle had taught him a great deal of discipline. Any frivolities were unacceptable. But when Billy studied Rohan's face, he was relieved to see it soften.

"I admire your sense of humor," Rohan said. "But when life throws you an obstacle, you have to adjust and keep on moving." He turned around and climbed through the broken window inside the building. Billy followed him.

* * *

# Chapter Twenty-Five

### Uncharted Grounds

Through the darkness of the room Billy could barely see pieces of furniture scattered around. Broken glass, mixed with debris from the ceiling and the walls, screeched under his boots. Falling snow made the twilight a bit brighter, but only outside. Billy heard Rohan muttering quietly every time he ran into another obstacle. Finally, Rohan gave up. From the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out two dark-colored cylinders and handed one to Billy. "Here, take this."

"What is it?" asked Billy, taking the cylinder.

"It's a flashlight."

"Is it made of plankton that lives in the ocean?"

"No, it's made in China. Just push the button." Rohan turned around and muttered, "Little joker."

Billy grinned and turned on his flashlight. A bright beam of light cut through the darkness.

"I would refrain from pointing it out the windows, if I were you," added Rohan. "We don't want to compromise our position."

The next room was full of books. Books were everywhere—on the table, on the couch, but mostly on the floor, mixed with dust and debris.

"Somebody likes to read here," noted Rohan.

"Maybe it's a librarian, I mean a real one," Billy suggested.

"That's unlikely, librarians don't take books home. They have more than enough in the library."

"True," Billy agreed. "Maybe he is a teacher?"

"Or she," said Rohan, dusting off a woman's picture.

Out of the room through a narrow corridor crowded with bikes, they got to the exit door. Rohan tried the doorknob—the door didn't move. He played with the lock and tried again—same result.

"It's jammed," said Rohan. "We need to find another exit."

"Can we just kick through the door?" Billy asked.

"I'd rather not," Rohan replied. "The whole thing may collapse on us. We better find something else. Here . . ."

Rohan's flashlight lit a door on the other side of the corridor. He went to the door and turned the doorknob—the door opened easily. They stepped inside. The flashlight beam revealed a sink, some dishes, and a fridge. "It's a kitchen," Rohan said.

"I see," Billy echoed.

"There is no other exit," Rohan exhaled. "We can try the kitchen window, though. It will lead us to the backyard. From there we can get into another building."

Rohan went to the kitchen window and opened it. He was about to climb out when somebody hailed him in Chinese from the backyard. Billy didn't understand a word. To his surprise, Rohan answered in the same language without any accent.

"Who is it?" whispered Billy.

"It's a local police volunteer," Rohan answered in a low tone.

"What does he want?"

"They are looking for survivors."

The man shouted something else. In the darkness, Billy couldn't see the speaker so he pointed his flashlight at the direction of the voice. The light was so bright and sudden, that the man had to raise his hand to cover his eyes. Billy only saw a green jacket and a red armband.

"What are you doing?" Rohan pushed Billy's hand down. "He may find it insulting."

The tone of the man's voice changed. It sounded more demanding now.

"What did he say?" asked Billy anxiously.

"Now he wants to see our papers and check our bags," Rohan said in exasperation. "He thinks we may be looters."

"What do we do?"

"Well," Rohan paused, "we run."

He shut the window and rushed back to the corridor. Billy hurried after him. They heard the sound of a police whistle behind them. In the middle of the corridor Rohan stopped and grabbed Billy's hand. "Hold on tight." He started running towards the jammed door.

"What are you doing?" shouted Billy.

"Stay with me and don't let go!"

With all his might, Rohan broke through the door. The doorframe cracked and a portion of the ceiling above caved in just behind Billy, almost scraping his back. They ran a few more steps, then stopped and looked around. They found themselves in another corridor. Only this one was wider and had lots of apartment doors on each side.

"This way," said Rohan, still holding Billy's hand. "Move fast."

Although Billy was in good shape, he could barely catch up with Rohan's long strides.

They almost covered half the length of the corridor when something suddenly hit Billy's right leg. The pain in his shinbone was excruciating. Billy lost his grip of Rohan's hand and heavily hit the floor, raising a cloud of dust. His flashlight rolled a few feet away.

"Are you all right?" shouted Rohan.

"I think I broke my leg!" Billy screamed back to him.

Rohan picked up Billy's flashlight. "Let me see."

Billy sat on the floor, back to the wall, and rolled up his right pant leg.

"Show me where it hurts," asked Rohan.

"Here." Billy pointed on a little bump on his shin.

"There is no blood, no visible deformation," Rohan pronounced, examining the injury. "Just a little bump and some abrasion on the top."

"But it really hurts."

Rohan put Billy's flashlight beside him and pressed on the shinbone below the bump. "Does it hurt here?"

"No."

Rohan put some pressure above the wound. "How about here?"

"Little bit," Billy said.

Rohan pressed lightly on the bump.

"Ouch!" Billy almost cried.

"Sorry, I won't do it again," Rohan said. "Can you move your toes?"

"Yeah." Billy wiggled his toes.

"Any pain?"

"No."

"Can you move your leg?"

Billy stretched out his right leg and then bent it again. "Kind of."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not much."

"Good. Joints are fine. This is just a bruise," concluded Rohan.

"But it still hurts, especially when you touch the bump."

"You hit something at full speed—it's supposed to hurt." Rohan pointed his flashlight to where they came from. A wooden bench lay on its side in the middle of the way. Billy made a face.

"Rub your shin with your hands— it should take some pain away," suggested Rohan.

Billy followed the advice and indeed felt some relief.

"C'mon," said Rohan, "we can't sit here forever." He rose and gave Billy his hand.

Billy rolled down his pant leg, picked up his flashlight and grabbed Rohan's hand. In a strong motion, Rohan helped him up.

"How do you feel? Can you walk?"

"Yeah, I kind of feel better."

"You take it easy now and watch your step," Rohan advised.

"Got it," said Billy as he began walking, slightly limping and carefully choosing his way. The exit door was getting closer. He sensed that Rohan was frustrated with this unexpected delay, but was trying not to show it.

"I hope the door isn't jammed," were the only words he pronounced out loud.

Just after he said that, the exit door swung open.

In the doorway, lit by Rohan's flashlight, stood the same Chinese man with the red band on his arm. He shouted something. Only this time he wasn't addressing Rohan. Most likely, he was calling his comrades. His voice sounded victorious. He began walking towards Rohan.

"Persistent little fellow," muttered Rohan.

To Billy's surprise, Rohan didn't back up. Instead, he went even faster, with each step picking up the pace. Billy held his breath, anticipating a prolonged struggle in the darkness.

When Rohan was only two steps away from his opponent, he suddenly tossed his flashlight to the left, dodging at the same time to the right. The red-banded-man followed the flashlight only for a second, but that second was enough for Rohan to land his bone-crushing right hook to the left side of the poor fellow's skull. Billy had never seen somebody go from a vertical to a horizontal position so fast. It looked almost like the guy teleported to the floor. There was no sound, no movement.

"Is he alive?" Billy asked in a low tone.

"Oh yeah, he'll be fine," answered Rohan, picking up his flashlight. He looked at Billy who was still frozen. "Well, shall we?" He pointed at the door. "We should keep moving, Billy. This man wasn't alone."

"Yeah, sure." Billy came back to his senses and followed Rohan to the exit door. He almost forgot about his own injury.

The exit led to the building foyer, which had suffered the same amount of damage—debris from the ceiling, cracked walls, and scattered furniture. Through the broken glass on the left they could see outside. A white carpet of fresh falling snow covered the ground. Straight ahead was a similar corridor, leading to the next wing of the building. On the right was a courtyard exit. Two flashlight beams shone there erratically—someone was hurriedly trying to get through the ruins into the building.

Going outside was out of question; footprints on fresh snow would easily betray them. The corridor in front was their only option.

"This way," said Rohan. "Turn off your flashlight."

They quickly crossed the foyer and stepped into the darkness of the corridor.

At first, Billy couldn't see a thing. He followed Rohan blindly, having a good hold on his arm. Rohan, on the other hand, seemed to have better orientation in the darkness. The adrenaline rush must've sharpened his senses.

Eventually, Billy's eyes adjusted. Some of the apartment doors were open, leaking a weak light from the outside, which also helped.

One question kept on bugging Billy for quite some time. Now was a good time to ask.

"Rohan, why do we have to run?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why don't you use the hourglass to pause time?"

"Oh, that. Because it's already preset and locked on our final destination. I cannot change it."

"So why don't we go there right now?" Billy wondered.

"For two reasons," Rohan explained. "First, we are too far away from where we are supposed to be, and second, in the place we're going to, you won't last more than an hour without a special suit."

"A special suit? What for?

"To protect your skin and allow you to breathe."

"What happened?" asked Billy. "Global warming or something?" He chuckled, hoping that Rohan would appreciate his sense of humor.

Rohan didn't smile. "Global warming was merely a beginning, "he said. "It triggered a chain reaction, affecting many other things—the climate shifting, animal migration, and changes in vegetation, to name a few. The pollution made the ozone layer of the atmosphere so thin that your skin would turn into bubbles if exposed to sun. Besides, the oxygen level in the air is so low you could barely breathe without a breathing apparatus."

Billy imagined that world for a moment. This made him feel sick. He didn't like the picture Rohan painted, so he decided to dilute the dark colors.

"My classmate says that global warming isn't that bad. It only means more time at the beach."

"Your classmate's opinion is not the biggest problem. The real problem is that many grownups think like him."

Billy waited for Rohan to add something else, but he didn't. The distant clamor of the chase was barely heard now.

Rohan exhaled. "Okay, I think we lost them."

He turned on his flashlight and directed the light to a door at the end of the corridor. "That must be a side exit. We leave the building there, go to the middle of the street and blend in with the crowd."

"Got it," Billy replied, picking up his pace. It seemed as if the light gave him more energy.

When they covered almost the full length of the corridor, Billy heard a low noise, which felt too familiar. It sounded like the deep, throaty roar of a wild animal and it was coming from beneath. A second later, an invisible force violently shook the building, tossing Rohan and Billy onto the floor.

"What's happening?" shouted Billy.

"An aftershock!" Rohan yelled. "Take cover!"

Easy to say. But where? Billy's flashlight couldn't get through the thick cloud of dust that instantly surrounded him. The loud racket of broken wood and bricks hurt his ears. The building was crumbling. Billy stretched out his arms and felt a doorknob of the apartment door. Lucky for him the door wasn't locked. He swung it open. In the corner of his mind, Billy remembered the earthquake drill from his school. He sat in the doorway and covered his head with his arms. The next moment, the building collapsed.

* * *

# Chapter Twenty-Six

### Dead or Alive?

Billy opened his eyes. The sky was so blue it made a few scattered clouds look even whiter. They were so close that Billy felt he could touch them. His body was weightless and his mind was overflowing with excitement. Billy was flying. Not like a little bird, constantly flapping its wings. No. He flew like an eagle, proudly soaring in the sky with its wings spread wide.

Down below was a desert. Dry cracked ground stretched out all the way to the horizon.

In the hazy distance, Billy spotted something green. As he got closer, the green spot materialized into a tree. Billy began slowly descending, making wide circles around it. Soon he was able to see more clearly the brown bark on the tree trunk and branches and bright green leaves with tiny dots on them. Something unusual caught Billy's attention—the tiny dots on the leaves were moving. When Billy got very close he realized that these tiny, almost microscopic, moving dots on the leaves were people with cities, towns, and villages.

A gust of wind sent the leaves into motion. They rustled, cheerfully rubbing against each other.

The next blow was stronger. One of the leaves broke apart from the tree and began falling, drawing circles and waves in the air on its way down. Billy watched the leaf softly touch the ground. Only then did he notice there were more leaves there—some of them were still green, but some were turning yellow. Others were brown and gray—they were decaying and falling apart, and every blow of the wind turned them into dust. Billy closed his eyes . . .

* * *

Distant noise was coming through the darkness. As it was getting closer, Billy could distinguish human voices. Somebody forced his eyelids open. He saw people surrounding him. They pointed flashlights at him and asked him questions in a language he could not understand. Billy tried to move but he couldn't. He moaned and shut his eyes again, sinking back into the darkness . . .

The next time Billy awoke, he was laying in a bed, staring at a white ceiling. By its shape he guessed that he was in a big tent. His small room was separated from the rest of the tent by blue curtains. By the noises and random moans, Billy could tell there were more people in there. A small table and a chair stood beside his bed. A needle was protruding from Billy's arm. Plastic tubing connected the needle to a see-through bag, hanging on a metal pole above his head.

A young Chinese girl in a nurse's uniform was passing by. Her eyes met Billy's. She shrieked and ran away.

Well, that was awkward, Billy thought.

Two minutes later, the nurse came back with another woman in a white doctor's coat.

"Finally you're awake," said the woman. "I'm Doctor Xiu Zhang. I'm with a medical team of the people's liberation army."

"Doctor Susan?" Billy asked.

She smiled. "Sure, you can call me that."

Then she turned to the nurse and told her something in Chinese. The nurse nodded and placed a thermometer into Billy's mouth. Doctor Susan took his wrist and found his pulse.

"Where am I?" asked Billy through his teeth, still holding the thermometer. "What is this?" Billy nodded at the needle in his right arm.

"You are in a Red Cross Camp," answered Doctor Susan, "and this is your IV. It helps you to restore your strength."

She removed the thermometer from his mouth.

"Well, looks like you are doing just fine," said Doctor Susan, seemingly satisfied.

"How did I get here? What happened to me?" Billy asked.

"Poor child, you don't know," Doctor Susan looked at Billy with sorrow.

"Don't know what?"

"You are a miracle boy," she said. "You are all over the news!"

"What?"

"You were buried under the ruins for three days."

"Three days?" Billy's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Yes, without food and water. You are lucky they found you. One more day and it would have been too late."

"Who found me?" asked Billy, his voice still weak.

"The rescue dogs," answered Doctor Susan. "They sniffed you under the wreckage and brought a rescue team."

"A rescue team?" Memories were slowly coming back to Billy—lights, people, voices, ruins, earthquake . . . Of course, he remembered now. And then as if an alarm clock buzzed in his head, he remembered that he could not expose himself; he could not be on the news.

"Where is my clothing? Where is . . .?" Billy rose on his elbows and instantly felt lightheaded. Helplessly, he collapsed back on his pillow. Uneasy thoughts circled in his mind. Where is Rohan? Is he alive? Did he get out or was he still there? What if he would never get to see him again? Did it mean he was stuck here in this country, in this time? Forever?

Billy felt sick. His face turned pale.

"Easy, tiger," said Doctor Susan softly and patted his shoulder. "You need a good rest."

She took a syringe with transparent liquid and emptied it into Billy's IV.

"The worst part is behind you," she said. "The most important thing is that you are alive."

The last words echoed in Billy's mind as if they were said into an empty barrel. Billy was falling into a deep well. The circle of light above was getting smaller and smaller until finally it turned into a tiny dot.

* * *

# Chapter Twenty-Seven

### Meet the Parents

When Billy awoke, he was alone. Doctor Susan was right—he did feel well rested.

For some time he stared at the IV bag over his head. There was something peaceful in watching those droplets dripping down the tubing into his arm. The fact that he didn't have to hurry and run anywhere made him feel good. At the same time he had an awkward feeling, as if something was missing.

Then the recollections of recent events began to race in his head.

At first, Billy thought of Rohan. If he was alive, where was he? Was he safe?

Then he paged back the last chapter of his life all the way back home. He had been out only for three days, but it felt like half of his life. His pictures were probably all over the news. The police were talking about the last place he was seen and giving a description of the clothing he wore. Oh yeah, his clothing. He almost forgot. It was burned three thousands years ago, in Ancient Egypt. How bizarre.

His thoughts turned to his parents. How were they? Mom must be crying all the time and Dad pacing from corner to corner unable to find the right spot. Most of all in the world Billy wanted to hug them right now and tell them how sorry he was for causing all these troubles, that he hadn't meant for any of this to happen, that things simply piled up too fast until they got out of control. If only he had his clothing on now, he wouldn't need a car or airplane—he would've just run home by foot to his mom and dad.

The icy-cold thought sobered his mind. Run where? His parents most likely weren't even born now. And if they were, they were just two kids in a kindergarten. This thought felt weird and scary at the same time.

Billy's classmates' faces surfaced in his mind. Everyone in school must be talking about him now. He'd be a real celebrity when he came back.

He thought of Anna-Maria too. Was she in her palace now or in their classroom, pretending to listen to the teacher and acting surprised every time someone asked about him?

Billy recognized the complexity of her situation. On one hand she was his friend; on the other hand she was the daughter of a man who wanted to erase Billy from his own chapter. The important question was, when it came to make an uneasy decision where would her loyalty lie—with him or with her father?

Doctor Susan entered and interrupted Billy's thoughts.

"Hello, miracle boy. How are you feeling?" she asked, checking his pulse.

"Better now," Billy answered.

She nodded as if satisfied.

"I have good news for you, Billy," Doctor Susan said.

The sound of his own name struck Billy like thunder. She knew his name! He never told anyone. In fact, no one ever asked his name. Wasn't it strange? Wouldn't that be the first thing doctors ask a patient? Billy never thought of it until now. This didn't feel right.

"How do you know my name?" Billy finally squeezed out a question. His mouth felt dry.

"Oh, we know more than that," Doctor Susan replied in a casual tone. "We also know your address and even the school you used to go to."

Cold sweat dotted Billy's forehead. The only rational explanation why she knew so much about him was because she was a Librarian. This was a trap!

Billy rose on his elbows gazing around and feeling powerless.

"Is there anything you would like?" asked Doctor Susan caringly.

How she could be so two-faced? Billy thought. "Yeah," he said out loud. "I'd like to use the restroom and have my clothes back."

"Restroom is not a problem," Doctor Susan replied. "Clothing, however, will have to wait. You are still too weak. Look at you." She took a gauze pad and wiped sweat from Billy's forehead.

He feebly dropped back on the pillow. Tired of playing cat-and-mouse, Billy decided to cut to the chase. Whatever happens, happens.

"How do you know so much about me?" he asked looking straight into Doctor Susan's eyes.

"Well, from your parents, of course," she said. "Don't you remember? I told you I had good news for you."

"What?" That was impossible. "My parents are here?"

"Yes, they are."

Billy felt outraged. It wasn't enough for them to have him; they also had to bring his parents.

"I want to see them at once," Billy demanded.

"All right," said Doctor Susan, seeming surprised at Billy's reaction. "Don't worry, they are fine. Although I personally met only one of them, I had a very good first impression." She pointed a finger at Billy. "Don't go anywhere." Then she grinned and left the room.

Yeah, like he could really go somewhere, thought Billy. He was literally pinned to the bed by his IV needle.

It felt like time stopped. Minutes turned into eternity.

When Billy finally heard Doctor Susan's voice behind the curtain his heart raced.

"This way, please," the curtain opened and in entered . . . Rohan.

Billy's eyebrows climbed as his lower jaw dropped. He was about to call out Rohan's name when Rohan opened his arms and pronounced, "Billy, my son."

"D-dad," Billy said weakly. Rohan stepped to Billy and gave him big hug.

"Well, I'll leave you two," said Doctor Susan, smiling amiably. "Not for long, though," she added. "He is still very weak."

Rohan nodded in appreciation, and Doctor Susan closed the curtain behind her.

* * *

# Chapter Twenty-Eight

### Should I Learn Chinese?

"I am so glad you found me!" Billy exclaimed.

"I never lost sight of you," Rohan replied. He sat on the side of Billy's bed.

"They said I was under the ruins for three days."

"I know. After I climbed out, I came back for you. I dug for the whole night. Often I would stop and listen—there was no sign from you, no sound. I didn't even know if you were alive. Only with sunrise, I realized the pettiness of my attempt to free you—you were buried under a big concrete slab. There was no way to get you out of there on my own."

"So what did you do?"

"I kept a low profile and waited."

"You didn't ask for help?"

"There was no one to ask. Those few around were busy with their own problems," explained Rohan. "The real help came only on the next day. That's when I spotted rescuers."

"I know, dogs found me," said Billy. There was sadness in his voice. He felt

disappointed that Rohan just waited while he was trapped.

"Yes, the rescue dogs," confirmed Rohan. "They worked on other buildings, two blocks away. By the time they would've gotten to you it might have been too late."

"What did you do then?"

"Beef jerky came in handy."

"What?" Billy exclaimed. "You put beef jerky where I was?"

"I had to lure them to you somehow, right?" Rohan smiled.

"Cool idea," Billy agreed.

"Later on, when they brought you here, I pretended to be a desperate father, looking for his son," continued Rohan. "Of course, all our papers were under ruins."

"And they simply believed you?"

"I gave them a detailed description of you and the clothes you wore. Besides, how many Caucasian boys who don't speak Chinese do you think are here?"

Billy grinned. Close to Rohan, he felt safe.

"So, how've you been?" Rohan asked. "Did they take good care of you?"

"Oh yeah," said Billy, "but we have to leave as soon as we can."

"What's wrong?"

"Doctor Susan called me a miracle boy. She said I was all over the news. This might attract some attention."

"Well, Billy, you see, that's the thing . . ." Rohan suddenly stumbled. "It is I who made sure the reporters learned about you."

"You?" Billy's eyes widened. "But why?"

"Well, how should I put it?" Rohan hesitated. Then he finally spat it out: "We don't have the hourglass."

"Say what?" Only now, Billy noticed that Rohan didn't have his backpack.

"Yes, Billy. It broke. In the aftershocks. I'm sorry."

If Billy thought that being in the middle of an earthquake was a worst-case scenario, he was wrong. That was nothing compared to this. This news meant that he would never go home; he would never get to see his friends and he would never be able to hug his mom and dad.

And all this was because of Rohan. Billy's life was perfect before Rohan broke into it. He used Billy; he manipulated him. It was all Rohan's fault. And now because of him they were stuck in this alien country in this awful time. Forever.

***

Billy's thoughts were reflected on his face. Rohan braced himself for the worst. What happened next was totally unexpected. There was no angry outburst, no accusations. Very calmly, Billy looked at Rohan and quietly asked, "Should I start learning Chinese?"

Billy must have realized after all, that Rohan always tried to do his best, that the broken hourglass was just an unfortunate accident. Accusing each other wouldn't help. He had simply turned that page and put it behind him. Rohan saw that. "Such wisdom," he murmured.

* * *

# Chapter Twenty-Nine

### The Bait

"Ghmm," Rohan cleared his throat. "It's always a good idea to have another language as an asset. However, let's focus for now on something else."

Billy listened.

"If our theory is true," suggested Rohan, "if everything that happened to us wasn't just random lack of luck and if the Librarians are really after us, then we have a good chance to get out of here."

Billy raised his eyebrows. "How?"

"Think about it. What do all the Librarians have in common?"

Billy thought for a moment and then his face brightened. "The hourglass."

"Exactly! We expose ourselves so they can find us, and then we snatch their hourglass."

"You mean we expose me?"

"Let's not talk about technicalities now." Rohan was clearly trying to avoid the question. Billy didn't mind.

"We need to focus on other things," Rohan carried on. "Firstly, the Librarians don't know that we lost our hourglass. They think we're still here only because you are bedridden. Let's keep it this way—look sick. Secondly"—Rohan pulled out from his pocket a small object and placed it into Billy's hand—"I want you to have this."

The object looked like a rubber balloon filed with sand. It was the size of a tennis ball.

"I've seen this before," said Billy, taking the object. "It's a stress reliever. There is sand inside, and you're supposed to squeeze it in your hand to feel calm."

"Right," said Rohan, "only this isn't sand. These are crystals from our hourglass. In close proximity, they will give you immunity against time stoppers."

"That's why my hourglass didn't work on Librarians!" Billy exclaimed.

"You have to be careful with this," Rohan warned. "It may save you, but it may also give you away—when everything stops and you're the only one still on the move, you'll be easy to spot."

"Got it," nodded Billy hiding the stress reliever under his blanket.

"Well," Rohan rose, "you get better." He went to the exit.

"Leaving already?" Billy asked.

"Don't worry. I'll be around. I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"Rohan," Billy called as Rohan opened the curtain.

"Yes," Rohan turned.

"Could you promise me something?"

"Sure, anything."

"Next time—you're the bait."

Rohan smiled. "You have a deal."

When Rohan left, Billy could finally lay back. His troubles and worries didn't seem as big as before. Now, with Rohan by his side, he knew that everything would be fine.

The next morning the nurse brought Billy a small breakfast. Nothing fancy, just soup and steamed vegetables.

Then Doctor Susan came. "How's our miracle boy doing?" she asked cheerfully. She took Billy's assessment chart. "Numbers look good," she murmured, studying the chart. "You are a strong and healthy boy," she addressed Billy. "Luckily, your body didn't sustain any injury, except for general physical exhaustion, of course. Your recovery, however, is going very well. I'll ask the nurse to remove your IV. You don't need it anymore. "

"Could I stay with it for a little longer, please?"

Doctor Susan seemed surprised—that was quite an unusual request coming from a little boy, but Billy figured that she wouldn't want to upset her patient. She shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, we can always remove it later."

"Thanks." Billy put on his biggest smile. "By the way, did you happen to see my dad today?"

"In fact I did. Your father is a very good citizen—he generously offered his help as a volunteer in the hospital. We can always use an extra pair of strong hands."

She was about to leave, but slowed down before exit. "Almost forgot"—she turned to address Billy—"you have a visitor today. It is a reporter from the local news. I asked her not to be here for too long since you are not fully recovered yet."

Billy nodded.

Here you go, he thought to himself. After this interview, the Librarians will be swarming around this place.

He wasn't afraid. On the contrary, he felt the excitement of a storm coming.

* * *

# Chapter Thirty

### Overeducated

A few minutes later someone shook the curtain from outside.

"May I come in?" a woman's voice asked.

"Sure," answered Billy.

A young Chinese woman entered the room. "Hi, my name is Mei Lin Dang," she said, "but you can simply call me Mei. How are you feeling?"

She stretched out her arm to Billy.

"Better now." Billy shook her hand and smiled back.

"Don't worry, I won't take too much of your time," said Mei Lin.

"I'm not worried," Billy replied.

"Very good." She placed a chair beside Billy's bed. "I am a reporter for a local newspaper, and I am writing a story about heroic rescues." She took a notebook and a pencil from her purse.

"But I didn't do anything heroic," Billy objected.

"Yet you survived for three days under a pile of concrete without any food or water," said Mei Lin.

"I blacked out right after the aftershock. The next thing I remember is rescuers pulling me out. If you are looking for heroes, you should write about them."

"There will be writing about them, I assure you," said Mei Lin, "but today's story is about you."

"But I didn't do anything special!" Billy felt embarrassed. Now he almost hated this interview.

"I don't understand, Billy. How can you be so selfish?" asked Mei Lin.

"Selfish?" exclaimed Billy. "Since when has being modest or humble become selfish? I simply don't want to take any credit for something I didn't do."

"I see," said Mei Lin calmly. "Now I get it and even admire your gesture."

"Thanks," Billy replied, frowning.

"Do you know what I'm thinking right now?" asked Mei Lin. "I am thinking of those who survived, but missed someone from their family. They don't know whether they are dead or alive, or maybe buried under the rubble just like you were, unable to free themselves, waiting for somebody to find them. If they read a story about an ordinary boy from an ordinary home who survived for three days without any supplies, that would give them hope—hope to find their loved ones; hope to be able to hug them again. It is up to you, Billy, to give them this hope, or take it away."

Billy never thought of it this way.

"Okay," he finally agreed.

"Very well," said Mei Lin, "let's start from the beginning. Your first name is Billy, right?"

Billy nodded.

"And the last name?"

"Somers."

She made a record in her notebook.

"How old are you, Billy? What is your date of birth?"

Billy was about to answer but then bit his tongue—if he told her his real date of birth, she would've thought he had serious brain damage. At this time, he wasn't even born yet. Billy reckoned Rohan mentioned 1975. He tried to subtract his age from that number in his head, when unexpected help came from Mei Lin.

"It's all right, don't worry about it," she said, seeing him struggling to answer. "Doctor Susan warned me that forgetting some things is normal in your condition. The memory should come back to you soon."

Billy nodded with relief.

"There must be other things that you remember."

"Maybe."

"Do you remember the actual rescue?"

"Not much, really."

She waited patiently.

"I remember the light. It was so bright I thought it was the sun. Then another one and another."

"They were probably the rescuers' flashlights," guessed Mei Lin.

"Yes," said Billy. "There were the flashlights on their hard hats." He paused. "I also remember people's faces; they were right in front of me, but their voices seemed to be so distant. Their lips moved like in slow motion but the words didn't make any sense to me. I tried to say something back but I couldn't move a muscle."

"It must be very hard for you to go through this again," Mei Lin said sadly. "I am sorry for making you do this."

Billy sighed. "It's all right."

"Let's leave it aside for now and talk about something else," suggested Mei Lin. "When the earthquake started, were you home alone or with your parents?"

"I was alone."

"And where were your parents?"

"I am not sure." The question caught him by surprise. Billy didn't know what to say."I think they went shopping."

"Shopping? Hmm, that is very unlikely. All the stores were closed because of a total city evacuation order."

"Well, I'm not sure." Now he was lost.

"It's okay," said Mei Lin softly and slightly touched Billy's shoulder. "The most important thing is that you are safe now."

Then she went back to her notes.

"Why do you think your parents decided to stay and not to go to a safe zone?"

"I guess they didn't believe the threat was real." Billy remembered Rohan's words about those who stayed.

"Sometimes people have to learn it hard way," Mei Lin commented. "There were others who stayed behind. They weren't as fortunate as you, Billy."

Billy didn't know what to say to this. Was that a hint of accusation he sensed in her voice? That he was rescued and others were still there, waiting. Then, a sudden contemplation hit him—what if she is one of those who still had a hope of finding their loved ones buried under the ruins? Of course, how could he be so blind? He was about to pop the question, but she spoke first.

"I hear your parents are also safe and sound."

"Yes, they are. My dad actually helps here as a volunteer."

"How admirable! Would it be okay with you if I met him too?"

"Absolutely. Doctor Susan should help you to find him."

At this moment, the curtain slid open and a male nurse entered. A white face mask covered half of his face. He held a tray with a small cup on it.

"Time for your vitamins," he said cheerfully.

His voice sounded so familiar. Billy looked at his eyes. Of course, there could be no mistake—it was Rohan. Excited, Billy opened his mouth to introduce him to Mei when right at that moment Rohan clumsily tripped over an electrical cord on the floor and flew forward. He stretched out his arms and landed on Billy's bed. The tray fell, and the liquid from the cup spilled onto Mei Lin's clothing. Rohan picked himself up and began cleaning the reporter's jacket saying something apologetically.

She replied politely, accepting his help.

Billy never would have expected what happened next. Rohan put his hand on the back of Mei's neck and squeezed his fingers. Mei froze for a second, then her body went limp and fell into Rohan's arms. He pushed her chair to a table and put her arms on the top of it. Then he gently placed Mei's head on her arms so from the side it looked like she was simply taking a short rest.

Billy was shocked, "Are you out of your mind?"

"Be quiet, please," commanded Rohan in a low tone. He quickly went to the exit, looked outside to make sure no one saw them and shut the curtain. Then he took a cotton swab from a glass jar on the table, put it on the top of the IV needle in Billy's arm and quickly pulled the needle out.

"Ouch!"

"Bend your arm and keep some pressure for me, will you."

Billy pressed his fingers on the cotton swab.

Rohan picked up a bag that he brought with him, opened it and removed some clothes.

"Hey, that's mine," Billy was glad to see his attire.

"I know," said Rohan, "put them on."

Billy started to take off his pajamas but Rohan stopped him. "Keep them on. We don't have time for this. Just put your clothing over top."

"What's going on?" asked Billy as he was getting dressed.

"We are leaving," answered Rohan.

"I can see that. Why did you do this to Mei? What about the interview? It was supposed to attract the Librarians, remember?"

"Oh boy!" Rohan exhaled and said, "Mei is a Librarian."

"No, this can't be! She was so nice and understanding. She can't be a Librarian."

"And who did you expect? An ugly old witch on a broomstick?"

"But how can you be so sure?"

"I spoke to her."

"When?"

"Right now."

"What, two words?"

"Yes. I said I'm sorry, she said no problem."

"So?"

"Only I said it in Aramaic and she answered in the same language—naturally, without any accent."

"So, she knows languages—big deal." Billy made a final attempt to protect Mei.

"People haven't spoken ancient Aramaic for more than two thousand years, Billy. This language doesn't exist anymore."

Billy had nothing else to say. He finished getting dressed in total silence. When he was ready to go he asked, "Is she going to be all right?"

Rohan glanced at Mei Lin peacefully resting at the table, "Oh yeah, she'll be fine."

He turned to Billy. "Ready?"

Billy nodded.

Rohan put his face mask back on. He opened the curtain and checked outside. "Let's go."

They walked in between rows of beds with injured people. Nurses, tending to their patients, didn't pay much attention to the two strangers.

* * *

# Chapter Thirty-One

### Movie Watchers

When Billy stepped outside, he realized how much he missed the fresh air. It was cold, clean, and easy to breathe, unlike the air inside the tent, soaked with the smell of medication.

The medical camp was located on the outskirts of the city. There were more tents around with big red crosses on them. A thick forest almost surrounded the camp.

Most of the snow had already melted, and mixed with the dirt, it turned the road into a slushy river of mud.

A few cars were parked on the left. A group of men, who were probably drivers, stood aside having smokes and talking loudly.

"This way." Rohan pulled Billy's arm sleeve to the left.

As Billy walked, he kept his eyes down to avoid eye contact.

They passed the loud men and walked between the tent and the cars.

"Wait," said Rohan and touched Billy's shoulder, "look."

Billy gazed up and saw an old-fashioned light truck with a "News" sticker on it. Rohan walked behind the truck and pulled the lever. The back door cracked open.

"Get in, quickly." Rohan helped Billy to climb in. Although the backseats were removed to make room, Rohan and Billy could barely fit in there together. Metal and wooden boxes of different sizes were stacked by the walls. Rohan started searching through them, opening only the big ones and ignoring the small ones.

"What are you looking for?" asked Billy.

"The hourglass," answered Rohan.

"How do you know it's here?"

"Normally it would be in a safe place," Rohan explained, "but if the Librarians really came to apprehend us, they would certainly have the hourglass somewhere nearby."

Billy took the other side of the truck and began digging through his portion of the boxes. Some of them had different kinds of tools; others were filled with radio equipment, video cassettes, microphones, newspapers, but no hourglass. Behind the driver's seat, Billy noted a pile of oil-soiled rags. He grimaced—getting his hands dirty didn't seem very appealing. So, he kicked the pile, just to check. The toe of his shoe hit something hard and he heard a metal clank. Hurriedly, Billy shoved the rags to the side, "Rohan, over here!"

"Oh boy," pronounced Rohan excitedly as from the pile of rags Billy pulled out a big metal can used to store 35 mm movie rolls. Rohan opened the lid and took out the hourglass. It looked very much like Billy's only with a few small differences in the frame ornament. Rohan brought the hourglass closer to light.

"Oh no." He exhaled in bitter disappointment.

"What?" Billy asked, getting a bad feeling.

"I cannot read it," answered Rohan.

"You?" It was hard to believe there was something that Rohan was unable to do.

"Well, technically I can, but it doesn't make any sense. It's a riddle, more like a code."

"Try to go vertically, by sectors," suggested Billy, referring to Nostradamus's version.

"I know how it works, Billy," said Rohan. "This one is different. Only the owner knows the answer. Anyone else who wants to decipher it has to have a book or some sort of file for reference to decode the writings on the plate. Without one it's just gibberish."

"Well, maybe we should ask her," Billy pointed out.

Rohan looked up. Through the dirty glass of their windshield, they watched Mei Lin coming out from the tent, one hand rubbing the back of her neck. She used the other hand to wave somebody over. A young man separated from the group and hurried to Mei Lin.

"Here is the driver," concluded Rohan. "We should move."

Billy opened the back door and was about to jump out when Rohan pulled him back and shut the door. "Wrong way, buddy. Get to the front seat."

Rohan helped Billy to climb onto the front seat and gave him the cylinder with the hourglass inside.

"Put it on the floor between your legs. We don't want to break this one too."

"What's the point if we can't use it?"

"I have an idea."

Rohan got into the driver's seat. He bent forward and pulled a few wires from under the steering wheel. They sparked as he tried to connect them.

"I can't believe it!" exclaimed Billy. "You know how to hot-wire a car!"

"I can't believe a young boy like you knows the term!" Rohan replied.

"I watch movies," Billy said.

"Me too," said Rohan.

They both smiled.

The car engine coughed and then started with a loud rev. Rohan put the gear stick into first gear, gently released the clutch pedal, and pressed on the gas. The car slowly started to move. The road was so slippery that no matter how hard Rohan tried to keep the wheels straight, they kept on slithering left and right. Carefully, Rohan steered the vehicle to the middle of the road.

"Don't you think that for a getaway car it's going a bit too slow?" asked Billy.

"On a road like this if we try to go any faster, we may get stuck. Then we're really doomed."

The car slowly passed a group of drivers. They didn't seem to be alarmed, more like curious. Why would a male nurse and a kid be in a "News" truck?

Mei Lin noticed them first. She stopped talking; her eyes met Billy's. The driver followed her look. As he saw his car, slowly passing by, he shouted and waved his arms. When this didn't help, he jumped into the mud on the road and tried to make his way around the car to the driver's door. On a dry road, this wouldn't have been a problem, but the road was so slick that the young driver kept on slipping and falling.

In the meantime, Mei Lin walked on the sidewalk along with the car.

"Where are you going, Billy?" she shouted. "You are making a mistake! I can take you to your parents. You could see them today!"

The sidewalk ended. She stopped for a moment and then made a resolute step onto the muddy road.

"Did you lock your door?" Rohan asked calmly.

"I did," Billy said.

"Good."

Mei Lin managed to get to the car and pulled the door handle, "Open the door, Billy!"

The door wouldn't budge.

"Billy, you're making a mistake. You have to go with me. Open it!"

She kept on pulling the door handle.

Billy looked at Rohan, "What do I do?"

"Smile."

"What?"

"When you got nothing else left, just smile."

Billy turned to Mei Lin and put a huge smile on his face. That must've been the last thing she expected. She let go of the handle and stood frozen there, watching the car getting farther away.

Billy finally exhaled. "I feel sorry for her."

"Don't," answered Rohan. "You were just an assignment for her. All that personal charm and attachment was just to get closer to you."

"Mei would never hurt me," said Billy. "I know that, I feel it."

"You know, maybe you're right and maybe Mei Lin is a wonderful, caring person who honestly tried to help you. But don't you forget, she is not the one who decides your fate. Her job was to deliver you to Khamunaph. He is the only one who can make that decision and he already did. How did you like being a slave?"

Billy didn't answer. He knew that Rohan was right; still, he couldn't get rid of that heavy guilt inside his chest.

* * *

# Chapter Thirty-Two

### The Road to Freedom

The winding, unpaved road was a grimy combination of bumps and pits. It played with the car like a child with a toy, throwing it and everything inside it up and down and side to side. A few minutes on a road like that felt like half a day. From time to time, Rohan checked the rearview mirror to make sure nobody followed them.

Finally, they came out onto a paved road and turned left, towards the city line. Untouched snow covered both sides of the road.

"Where are we going?" asked Billy.

"There is a river down the hill," Rohan pointed to the right, where in between the trees Billy saw the gleam of water. "We need to get to the other side."

"I'm not a very good swimmer." Billy grinned.

"Don't worry, we'll take a ferry," Rohan responded without a hint of a smile. Did he not notice that Billy was joking, or did he seriously consider swimming across the river a possibility? Billy didn't want to think about it.

"Rohan, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"How do you know so much?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the hospital, the car, the languages . . ."

"I've been around," Rohan answered vaguely.

"No, seriously, and where did you learn to fight so well?"

"I traveled a lot, put together the best from every chapter."

"Didn't you say that Librarians are assigned to specific chapters?" asked Billy.

"I am not just a Librarian."

"You're not?" Billy waited for an explanation but Rohan said no more. Billy didn't want to pry. After all, he decided, that was enough questions for now.

They drove in silence for some time.

"Rohan, I think there is someone behind us," said Billy, watching his side mirror.

"I noticed that. He's been there for a while. I am more concerned about them," Rohan nodded at two police cars creating a roadblock dead ahead.

"Maybe it's just a routine check," suggested Billy.

"Perhaps, but I wouldn't want to take a chance, especially driving a stolen vehicle."

Rohan pushed the brake pedal and swerved the car to the right.

"What are you doing?" Billy shouted.

"Taking a short cut," Rohan replied.

Their car hit the snow and ploughed down the hill. Billy pressed both his hands against the dashboard.

"The tree, the tree!" he shouted.

"I see it!" Rohan rolled the steering wheel left and right but the car barely responded; gravity pulled it down and the snow minimized the friction. Luckily, the trees scarcely grew here, which made it easier to maneuver.

At the bottom of the hill, they hit the heavy snow at full speed. A white cloud enveloped the car. Rohan pushed on the gas pedal and they dug through across the snowfield, which now was the only obstacle between them and the river road. The snow here was much deeper, and the flatness of the field was exceptionally deceptive. Their car was tossed in all directions like a small boat in the middle of a storm. But the engine revved, and all four wheels dug deep into the snow, pushing the car forward. It was a miracle they kept on going.

"This car is like a tank!" Billy exclaimed. "What vehicle is this?"

"What?" Rohan couldn't hear through the racket of the car engine.

"I said what car is this?" Billy shouted louder.

"It's a Soviet made all-terrain GAZ 69!"

"What's Soviet?"

"There was once a country like that!"

"Why did you say was?"

"'Cause it doesn't exist anymore!"

"Why?"

"Because it had to go!"

"You destroyed the whole country?"

The car jumped on a bump and Rohan hit his head hard on the ceiling.

"Damn!" He grimaced from pain. "Nobody destroyed any country! Not now, Billy!"

Billy went quiet. He looked at his side mirror, but couldn't see much. He rolled down the window and looked back. Through the mist of snow combined with white smoke coming from the wheels, he saw one of the police vehicles hit a tree in the middle of the hill. The other police car dove into the deep snow at the bottom of the hill and stayed there, dark smoke coming from under the hood. Billy grinned with satisfaction.

A few minutes later, they drove onto the river road. The drive here was much smoother, so Rohan stepped on the gas. Billy also could relax and look around. On the left side of the road was a vast snowfield with a few trees here and there. On the right side was a river. It was so wide and the water moved so slowly that Billy immediately named it "Lazy River."

"How far is it to the ferry?" Billy asked.

"We are almost there!" Rohan answered.

They approached a small grove. The road made a turn into the woods and two minutes later, they came out to an open yard.

* * *

# Chapter Thirty-Three

### The Ferry Tale

"Here we go," said Rohan as they stopped near a small square-shaped floating platform.

"Where is the ferry?" Billy asked, searching the shoreline.

"You are looking at it."

"What? You call this a ferry?" Billy jumped off his seat.

"What do you call it?" Rohan asked.

"It's a, it's a . . ." Billy was unable to find the right word. "It's a stinking raft! You couldn't even fit three cars on it."

"I'd say it's more than enough room for one car. Of course, this baby is old, not like the ones you are used to. But still, you see the cup half empty; I see it half full."

"I can't believe it! Rohan, the cup is empty!"

"C'mon, Billy, stop freaking out. Come here and give me a hand."

Rohan got out of the car. He went to the road sign that was blocking the way and began to move it off the road.

"What does it say?" Billy asked, coming out of the car.

"It says, 'Do not enter, not operational,'" Rohan translated the sign.

"Why is it not operational?"

"Because they stopped operating it, I guess."

"Why?"

"They built a new bridge."

"Why can't we take the bridge?"

"Because it's gone," said Rohan. "The earthquake, remember?" He turned to Billy. He saw that little boy all stressed out under the pressure of recent events, and at that moment he hated himself for being so insensitive. Rohan came close to Billy and put his hands on his shoulders. "Look, I know that the last few days were extremely difficult for you. You had to go through things that most people never experience in their entire life. But I need you to hold on a little longer. Trust me—I'll never let anything bad happen to you." Their eyes met. "Do you believe me?"

Billy looked like he wanted to say something, but at the end only nodded.

"Come here." Rohan pulled Billy in and gave him a strong hug.

Together they moved the road sign out of the way, and Rohan drove the car onto the platform.

"Do you actually know how to run this thing?" Billy asked.

"Oh yeah, I've done it before," Rohan assured him. "There are two motors here. We need only one—just to get us to the middle of the river. The stream will pick us up from there."

"You said we had to go to the other side."

"We won't be able to dock there," answered Rohan. "The floating debris destroyed the pier."

Billy looked at the opposite bank, which was a mess.

Rohan took an empty canister and a rubber hose from the back of the car, went to the side of the vehicle and opened the gas cap. He inserted one end of the hose into the gas tank, and the other end into his mouth and began to suck.

"If I were thirsty that would be the last place I'd want to drink from," commented Billy.

Rohan nearly burst with laughter. "Stop it, Billy," he finally pronounced. "I'm not trying to drink. I want to get some gasoline from the gas tank into this canister."

"Oh, I see."

Rohan repeated the same procedure again. When he felt the gasoline in his mouth, he put this end of the hose into the canister. It started to fill.

"I like the smell," said Billy.

"Trust me, you won't like the taste," Rohan said, and then spit.

After that, Rohan filled one of the two motors with gasoline and tried to start it. Nothing happened.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Billy asked, doubtfully.

"It'll work," Rohan assured him. "She's old and rusty, but she's a hard worker. It'll work."

On the next attempt, the motor only coughed a dark cloud of smoke. A few more times later, it finally started.

Rohan released a mooring rope and pushed off the dock with a wooden pole. The ferry began to move.

***

Billy sat at the edge and watched them get farther away from the shore. The more he thought about the last days' events, the more surreal they seemed. He felt as if he was merely a bystander observing all this happen to somebody else.

Slowly but surely the ferry came down to the middle of the Lazy River. Rohan shut down the motor. A silence fell. Only random water splashes here and there dared to break it. The man went to the other side of the ferry. He stood there with his arms crossed on his chest and surveyed the chaos. The entire opposite bank of the river had turned into a pile of trash.

"Where did it all come from?" Billy asked, joining Rohan.

"The earthquake triggered landslides. What you see is the remains of what used to be a human dwelling." Rohan sighed sadly.

As the ferry got closer to the shore, Billy recognized pieces of furniture in the mixture of muddy water and wooden wreckage.

"Why does everything pile up on only this side of the river?" he asked.

"Due to the stream and the curvature of the riverbed at this place," Rohan explained.

"Then how are we going to land?" Billy was worried.

"We disembark over there." Rohan pointed. Billy followed his gesture and in the foggy distance saw the rubble of what used to be a bridge. "The road is closer to the river at that point," Rohan said. "It is our best chance."

Billy stared at the distant spot with doubt on his face. By now he had learned to trust Rohan, but why did everything have to be so challenging?

"A little help here," Rohan's voice jerked him out of his thoughts.

"Eh?" Billy cocked his head.

"I said I could use a pair of strong hands here." Rohan took the road sign and began using it as a shovel to clear off snow on the deck around the car. Billy took his place beside him and leaned against the sign.

By the time they finished they were only several yards from the shore.

"Good timing," said Rohan with satisfaction and tossed the sign into the river. It splashed on the surface and in a moment disappeared into the murky water, leaving only a few ripples behind.

The landing spot was not far away now, so Billy could take a better look.

At the first glance, his anxiety jumped sky high. He saw the road, only it wasn't as close to the river as he had imagined. The riverbank under the road was partly washed away by the surge and the pavement was simply hanging over the water.

Next to it, a huge concrete plate, which used to be part of the bridge, almost vertically protruded from the water. The plate rested against a bridge pillar, blocking water flow at that spot and creating a big swell in front of it. The current there was stronger, and it carried the ferry right towards the plate.

"The swell will bring us up to level with the road," Rohan pointed out.

"We'll never get close enough to it," Billy fretted.

"A few feet won't be a problem for the car," Rohan replied.

"We are going to jump with the car?" Billy exclaimed.

Rohan didn't answer. He opened the front door and started the car engine. Then he returned to the edge of the deck and studied the flow. Billy had nothing better to do than to join him. His eyes followed a small wooden log that got sucked over the swell, then was tugged along the concrete plate and around it and then carried further down the stream.

"Oh boy," Rohan muttered quietly, yet loud enough for Billy to hear.

"What?" the boy asked anxiously.

"The water has subsided," Rohan grumbled.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that three days ago the water was higher. The swell won't bring us high enough to be level with the road."

"This is my fault," Billy said. "If I weren't in the hospital for so long, we would be fine."

"Don't think like that, Billy. I am grateful you survived, and you should be, too."

Billy looked around, trying to come up with any idea.

"I know!" he exclaimed. "We need a ramp!"

"We just cleaned the deck," Rohan said. "There is nothing to build a ramp with."

"Then we need another landing spot!" Billy wouldn't give up.

"There is no other landing spot."

"What do you mean?" Billy cried. "The river is long!"

"Look over there, Billy. What do you see?"

Farther ahead, the lazy river was boiling with the white caps due to the rapids.

So much for lazy, he thought.

There had to be another way. He just had to think harder. "I know!" Billy shouted again. "We flip the hourglass. When everything stops, we'll have enough time to climb up the road." Of course, so easy, he should've thought of it earlier.

"We can't do that. This could be a trap."

"What do you mean a trap?" Billy asked, baffled.

"The hourglass could be already preset in such way that if we flip it over we'll be right in the hands of our enemies."

_Our enemies,_ Billy thought. Only a few days ago he didn't have any enemies.

Rohan pressed his lips as if he read Billy's mind.

"Or maybe worse," he added. "We may end up in between chapters."

"You mean like in limbo?"

"Call it what you like. There is no way from there on your own. I'd rather not take that chance."

"Then we're doomed," Billy said hopelessly.

A powerful shove shocked the ferry and almost threw Billy onto the deck. The sound of metal grinding against concrete hurt his ears. Billy looked up; the road was so close, yet so unreachable, even if he ran and jumped. The ferry stayed on the top of the swell for a short time and then slowly began turning around and sliding down along the concrete plate.

"Get in the car! Fast!" Rohan's hail shook Billy from his stupor. He jumped into his seat and pulled the seat belt.

"Don't do that," said Rohan.

"Why?"

"If we fall into the water your hands would be too frozen to work the buckle."

What? The water?

The car engine revved.

"A ramp, you say? I say you're a genius!" Rohan had an insane look in his eyes. He released the handbrake and shifted the gear stick to reverse. The car drove backwards all the way to the edge of the ferry. They almost fell over when Rohan stopped abruptly and pulled up the handbrake lever.

"What are you doing?" Billy shouted. "We are supposed to go forward!"

Rohan ignored that remark. He shifted the gear stick forward, released the clutch pedal and pressed on the gas. With an eerie screech, all four wheels rolled forward fast, but the car stood still, held by the handbrakes. White smoke enveloped the vehicle. Billy rolled down his window and peered outside. The weight of the car was pushing the back end of the ferry down at the same time inclining at the opposite end, facing the road. When Billy looked up, he didn't see the road anymore. All he saw was the hood of the car and cloudy skies. He glimpsed down again—the river was about to pour over the edge.

"The water is coming!" he shouted.

"Now!" roared Rohan and slammed down the handbrake lever. The car jolted forward, pressing Billy into his seat. Gaining speed, it drove across the ferry and, like a wild animal, leaped over the gap. Billy didn't dare look down. His brain kept on rewinding the same thought—not in the water, not in the water. He watched the cloudy sky through the windshield like a wide-screen TV. Then the treetops slowly appeared and the car hit the edge of the road with its back wheels. Part of the road gave in and the car slid on its belly, but the front wheels already clawed into the road and pulled the car forward. A moment later, they drove at full speed farther away from the river.

"Hoo-ah!" A victorious yell came from Rohan.

"Yeah!" echoed Billy, still shaking.

* * *

# Chapter Thirty-Four

### Childproof

They drove for some time on the main road. Then at a point only known to Rohan, they made a sharp turn and went off the road into the forest. A light coat of snow dusted the ground, making it hard to tell whether the road really existed or they were just randomly dodging trees. Small bushes would appear in front of the car but Rohan drove over them without slowing down. A few times Billy glanced at Rohan just to make sure they weren't lost. There was no confusion on Rohan's face. He seemed to know what he was doing, so Billy didn't ask. Finally, they came to a halt.

"We are here," said Rohan and shut down the engine.

Billy looked out through the foggy window and saw nothing but bushes and trees.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" he asked with doubt.

"Positive." Rohan glanced at Billy's puzzled face and smiled. "Let's go."

Billy opened his door and slipped outside. The fresh snow softly crunched under his boots.

"It's so quiet here," Billy said, watching his own breath.

"Yes, it is," Rohan agreed.

Billy zipped his jacket all the way up.

Rohan opened the back door and climbed inside. "We're going to have a short walk," Billy heard Rohan's voice from back there along with the clanking and clattering of metal and wood. "Grab the hourglass, will you."

Billy reached for his seat and pulled out the metal canister. He put it on the snow and carefully opened the lid. He removed the rags and checked the hourglass. It was intact. Billy sighed with relief and closed the lid.

After some hassle and a heavy grunt, Rohan appeared from the back of the car, holding a spare wheel.

Billy stared at him, puzzled. "We're taking this?"

"Oh yeah," Rohan grinned, satisfied.

Billy shrugged. "Okay." The spare car wheel wasn't something he would've taken for a short walk, but knowing Rohan, if that was his choice, there had to be a reason. Billy was just too weary to ask questions. Everything in time, he thought.

Rohan threw his backpack over his shoulder and with the spare wheel in the other arm led the way.

When they walked into the trees, darkness fell almost instantly. Treetops blocked the cloudy skies, leaving only a few small patches for the weak light to get through. If it wasn't for the snow on the ground brightening the way, Billy would've thought that it was already night time. Carefully choosing his steps, he followed Rohan. Yet, despite his best efforts, very soon his pants and gloves became wet from frequent falling in snow on the slippery trail. Billy coiled his free arm around trees to help him keep his balance. The short walk turned into a trudge.

"Almost there," said Rohan, as if sensing Billy's mood, although there was no complaint coming from him.

They waded around a thick hedge of bushes. Half the leaves were gone. The ones remaining were colored green, red, and faded yellow. A thin layer of snow brought a truce between the colors.

Rohan halted. He dropped his load on the snow. "Wait here," he told Billy and disappeared inside the bushes.

Billy lowered his canister and leaned on a tree. Light snow began to fall again. Billy removed one of his gloves and stretched out his arm. A few tiny snowflakes fell onto his warm palm and melted instantaneously. Billy wasn't cold. He felt sweaty and hot from the hard walk.

The bushes rustled once more, and then Rohan appeared. He picked up his bag, the spare wheel, and the canister. "Let's go," he said and walked back into a leafy wall. Billy hesitated for only a second. He didn't want to lose sight of Rohan. He plunged in and almost ran into Rohan's back. Two steps forward and three to the right. Then forward again and a shift to the left. Zigzagging like that, they finally cleared the bushes, and Billy found himself standing at a doorway.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's a hunters shed. I found it in a previous chapter. It's been long forgotten." He saw Billy's hesitation. "Don't worry. No ghosts in here."

"I'm not worried," shrugged Billy and walked in.

He grimaced as damp air touched his nose. It also felt colder inside the shed. Rohan squatted beside a small fireplace, and a minute later Billy heard the crackling of wood in the fire.

Rohan added one more log and turned to Billy. "Get close to the heat; your clothes are soaked."

Billy pulled up a small bench by the fireplace. Stretching out his hands, he basked in the fire's warmth and watched the cheerful flames dance along the logs. The warmth on his palms never felt so good.

"Come here, Rohan. Aren't you cold?"

"I'm fine, Billy, thanks."

"What are you doing over there?"

"Getting ready for the next move."

Billy looked over his shoulder. Rohan already had the hourglass on the table. His left hand was on its frame, right hand on the top plate, the expression on his face focused. Rohan took a deep breath, tightened his grip and then turned the top plate and lifted it up slightly. The compressed air escaped with a puff. Carefully, he put the plate on the table. Then Rohan reached for his bag and pulled out his modified time synchronizer, the one he had managed to save from their broken hourglass. He carried it closer to the fire and thoroughly examined it for any damage. Satisfied, he returned to the table. Billy silently observed Rohan switching the plates. He had no intention of interfering. The more comfortable he got by the fire, the sleepier he felt. In fact, up to this moment he hadn't realized how exhausted he was, physically and emotionally. The weariness was slowly overtaking him.

In the meantime, Rohan positioned the time synchronizer on the top of the hourglass and turned it until it got to the right place and a light click sounded.

"Is it a childproof lid?" Billy asked in a weakening voice.

"You bet."

Billy couldn't tell whether Rohan was serious or joking back. It didn't matter. His eyelids were getting heavy.

Billy watched Rohan disappear into a dark corner of the shed. A moment later, he materialized with a spare wheel in his arm. He placed it on the table beside the hourglass.

The mystery of the spare wheel is about to be unveiled, Billy thought, fighting to stay awake.

From the pocket of his nurse scrubs Rohan pulled out some plastic bags with IV tubing and sterile needles that he had snagged on his way out from the medical tent. He ripped them open and connected two needles to both ends of the IV tubing. He inserted one needle into a small hole on the side of the hourglass frame. Then he took the other IV needle and positioned it to the side of the wheel's tire. Holding the needle with two hands, he firmly pressed it in. Billy heard air hiss as it passed from the tire to the hourglass.

"Perfect," said Rohan and quickly removed the needle from the hourglass. He turned to Billy cheerfully, "Are you ready to rock?"

There was no answer. Unable to resist anymore, Billy had finally shut his eyes and fallen into a deep sleep.

* * *

# Chapter Thirty-Five

### The Truth

The heat was getting stronger and stronger until it became unbearable. White blisters appeared on Billy's hands and face. They began to pop up like popcorn, letting clear fluid out, which evaporated at once under the heat.

"Ah!" Billy jerked up on his elbow, fully awake.

He was lying on his side, facing the fireplace. Beneath him was Rohan's jacket, his backpack serving as a pillow. Billy looked at his hands—his skin was normal. He touched his face—it was warm from the fire but other than that, it was fine. A sigh of relief escaped from his lips—just a dream.

"Are you all right?" He heard Rohan's voice behind him.

Billy turned around and froze in dismay. Instead of Rohan, there stood a spaceman. The dark visor of his helmet stared coldly at Billy.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Rohan's voice sounded again. The spaceman lifted his hands and slid the visor to the top of his head.

"Rohan!" Billy exhaled in relief. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"I'm sorry, Billy. I didn't expect you to be up so soon."

"How long was I asleep?"

"About two hours," Rohan answered. "How do you feel?"

"Great." To his own surprise, Billy indeed felt well rested.

"Well then, "said Rohan, "it's time to change your attire."

He tossed Billy a plastic package. "Put this on."

"What is it?" Billy asked.

"It's a protective suit."

"Oh yeah," now Billy remembered Rohan telling him about special suits that were supposed to protect them from harsh environments. Billy unfolded his suit, "It's so light and thin."

"Yet durable," added Rohan.

"What is it made of, some kind of plastic?"

"Polyurethane laminate, to be precise. This laminated fabric is extremely useful as an all-weather barrier. In this, you don't have to worry about rain, wind, or sun. "

"Pretty cool," exclaimed Billy. "I've never seen anything like this before."

"Actually, you may have, but not this quality."

"Do I put it on top?"

"Oh no, leave on minimal clothing. It is going to be hot there."

"Where are we going?" asked Billy as he changed.

"Back to Egypt." Rohan paused for a moment. "Or forward, to be precise."

The last remark completely restored Billy's memory. "The Final Chapter," he

whispered and looked at his suit with more respect.

Billy's manner didn't escape Rohan's attention.

"Don't worry, Billy," he said. "It is a short mission, in and out. You'll be home in no time."

"You mentioned global warming," Billy said quietly.

"It is not that big of a deal." Rohan tried to sound more casual. "Besides, we have these suits."

"If it's not a big deal, what do we need special suits for?"

"This is more of a precaution, in case something goes wrong."

"And how many times lately have things gone as planned?" Billy looked directly at Rohan's eyes. "Tell me the truth. I need to know where I'm going and what I'm going to be dealing with."

"I guess the boy has really grown up," Rohan said softly. He pulled himself a bench and nodded at Billy to be seated too. Billy parked cross-legged by the fireplace.

"Look, Billy," Rohan started, "you've been through enough already. I didn't want to make this experience even more traumatic. That is why I was reluctant to tell you more than you needed to know about our final mission." Rohan took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "Many things have changed, it is true. Pollution caused global warming. When the ice on the poles melted, the balance between fresh and salt water in the oceans changed, causing weather patterns to change too. Storms and hurricanes began to form in places where they never happened before. They also became stronger and less predictable due to the rising water temperatures in the oceans. Some cities were completely wiped out. Those who survived moved to bigger cities."

Billy listened silently, his face solemn. Rohan's story sounded like a horror movie. The worst part of all was that Billy knew that the things Rohan described were really happening.

"Bad weather wasn't the only problem," Rohan continued. "Wide use of ODS made the ozone layer dangerously thin."

"What's ODS?" Billy asked.

"Ozone Depleting Substances," Rohan answered. "These are chemicals that people used a lot in the twentieth- and twenty-first centuries."

"And how is it bad?"

"The ozone layer protects us from harmful ultraviolet radiation coming from the sun. This radiation causes skin cancer and attacks our DNA," Rohan explained. "In the place we are going, heatstroke and sunburn are ancient terms. There, you either get exposed to the sun or not, and if you do, your skin will turn to blisters in less than an hour."

Billy gasped for air. "My dream!"

"What dream?"

"Just before I woke up, I had a dream."

"What did you see?"

"Not much really. I just saw these white blisters on my arms and my face. And the pain. I could literally feel the pain."

"Interesting." Rohan seemed worried and curious at the same time.

"Why? Does it mean anything?"

"No, I don't think so"—Rohan shook his head—"just a bad dream."

A faint sigh of relief escaped Billy's lips.

The fire in the fireplace had almost died out. He rekindled it by tossing in some tree bark. A burst of embers made the room brighter.

"So, how do people live then?" Billy wondered.

"Some cities built domes."

"Domes?" Billy imagined a giant half sphere covering an entire city, protecting it from the deadly environment.

"Others dug in."

"What do you mean?" Billy asked.

"They used the metro tunnels and mines to build cities under the ground."

"So, which one are we going to?"

"Neither. We are going to a lake."

"Huh?" Billy's eyebrows rose.

* * *

# Chapter Thirty-Six

### I Wish I Could Play with It More

"Do you remember the underground lake I told you about?" Rohan asked.

"The source of the crystals?"

"Right, only now the lake is no longer under the ground. A number of earthquakes over the years pushed it up to the surface."

"Wouldn't the earthquake destroy the lake?" Billy asked.

"You would think so. In reality, the lake seems to exist in its own dimension. Nothing affects it; it doesn't drain and it almost doesn't dry out like other lakes."

"So why are we going there?"

"To destroy it," said Rohan firmly.

That was the last thing Billy expected to hear. "What . . .? How . . .? Why . . .?"

"If the lake doesn't exist, the crystals lose their power."

"How do you know?"

"I experimented on a small amount, and it worked."

"How are you going to destroy the lake if not even the earthquake could do it?"

Rohan squatted beside his bag, unzipped the top and opened it. Inside, Billy saw a

bottle with a colorless liquid and a clock connected to the bottle with electrical wires.

"A bomb?"

"A chemical bomb," corrected Rohan. "When the contents of the bottle interact with the substance in the lake, a chemical reaction will occur. The entire lake will turn into a vapor."

"But why do you want to ruin the crystals at all?" Billy cried.

There was a tone of desperation in his voice. Until now he didn't realize that even though he badly wanted to get home, back to his parents and friends and away from all these troubles, somewhere deep in his mind he had hoped he would have a chance to keep the hourglass.

"This is the only way to stop the madness," said Rohan.

"I don't follow you." Billy was lost.

"Using the hourglass to build a better world was a utopian idea. By solving one problem we created another one, which otherwise would've been avoided. Over the long years of my life I've learned one valuable lesson: a trouble-free life is a myth; it simply doesn't exist. Only by overcoming obstacles, do we become stronger. Humanity grows stronger."

He noticed Billy's solemn face. "I thought we'd been through this already."

"I know," Billy replied. "Only I wish I could play more with it."

Rohan made a conspiratorial face. "Hey, how about this time you flip the hourglass?"

"Really?" Billy's face lit up. "You'd let me?"

"Sure," Rohan nodded. "Just finish changing."

Two minutes later Billy stood ready. He wore the same protective suit as Rohan.

"How does it feel?" Rohan asked.

"Boots are a bit too big," Billy complained.

"Better than too small," Rohan assured him. He picked a helmet from the pile of clothing and placed it over Billy's head on a thin metal ring around his neck. He pushed down and twisted the helmet until it snapped in place.

"Looking good," Rohan said, satisfied.

"The suit is kind of sticky," noted Billy, trying to move his arms.

"Right, almost forgot," Rohan picked up a belt with a small metal cylinder, attached to it horizontally, and buckled it around Billy's waist.

"What is it," Billy asked.

"It's a utility belt. The cylinder on your belt is your oxygen supply." Rohan slid the cylinder to the back.

"We can't breathe there at all?"

"Yes, you can breathe. Only the level of oxygen in the air is very low. With no extra help you'll feel tired and fatigued very soon, as if you were climbing Mount Everest without an oxygen mask."

"How long does the oxygen supply last?"

"About two hours," said Rohan, connecting two tubes that were coming out from the cylinder to the valves on the suit—one above the belt and one below.

"There is a button on the side of your cylinder. Try pressing it," Rohan said when he finished.

Billy reached with his left hand behind his back and felt the button. He pressed it. The suit instantly filled with air.

"Wow," Billy exclaimed, "I didn't know it was inflatable."

"Now you look like a space man." Rohan grinned.

"The air is kind of cold."

"Don't worry. The microcomputer on your utility belt is going to read your vital signs and adjust the temperature inside the suit to your level of comfort."

"Oh yeah," said Billy, "I can feel it. It's getting warmer."

"The computer automatically maintains a microclimate inside the suit, preventing your body from overheating during hard work."

"What hard work?" Billy asked worriedly. He still had blisters on his palms from his last visit to Egypt.

"Some of the heavy machinery that provides life support for the cities was left on the surface. Workers from time to time have to come out to perform maintenance."

"Oh, I see."

"Well," Rohan picked up the backpack with the chemical bomb and strapped it to his back. "Shall we?" He nodded at the hourglass.

Billy wasn't certain. "Are we going just like this?"

"We travel light, remember, in and out."

Billy guardedly took the hourglass and held it aloft in front of him. "Is it already preset?"

"It's all yours." Rohan lowered Billy's visor and then his own.

Billy took a deep breath and flipped the hourglass.

* * *

# Chapter Thirty-Seven

### Sibling Rivalry

Darkness fell. Dim glowing light glimmered from the crystals when they began to move. As they gained more speed, the light became brighter and brighter until the crystals turned into myriads of shiny stars, circling all around Billy. His knees became weak but he kept his balance. He didn't want to miss any of this. The thought that he might be seeing this spectacle for the last time made him feel even more mesmerized. The sparkling stars circled around faster and faster until they all blended into one magical whirlpool of light.

Suddenly the ground beneath Billy's feet became unsteady. His legs were sinking, and his body tilted to the side. He looked down but couldn't see anything—the light was too bright. Billy lost his balance and would have fallen if it wasn't for two strong hands that grabbed him by his shoulders and held him straight. Billy gasped and looked up. It was Rohan.

The bright light dissipated. Billy gazed around. They stood on the slope of a sand hill.

That's why I was losing balance, he thought.

"Are you all right?" Rohan asked, still holding Billy's shoulders. In the bright sunny day the visor of his helmet didn't seem as dark as in the hunters shed.

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks," Billy murmured back.

"I'll take this if you don't mind." Rohan gently took the hourglass from Billy's hands and wrapped a piece of cloth around it. Then he put it on the sand and took a small box from his pocket. He flipped its lid open and brought the box closer to his visor.

"Is that a compass?" Billy guessed.

Rohan didn't respond.

"Is that a compass?" Billy repeated louder.

Rohan took his eyes away from the box and stared at Billy.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He reached for Billy's helmet and clicked a small switch on the metal ring.

"Can you hear me now?" his voice sounded inside Billy's helmet.

"Loud and clear," answered Billy.

"One click—short distance radio," Rohan explained about the switch. "Two clicks—long range. We keep it short."

Billy nodded.

"And yes, it is a compass. Well, sort of. It's a GPS locator. Not only does it show the direction, it also tells you the distance to the POD."

"The POD?"

"Point of Destination."

"Got it. Are we close?"

"Almost there." Rohan closed the lid and pocketed the device. "This way." He picked up the hourglass and led the way. Billy followed right behind him.

Walking on the sand wasn't as unpleasant as Billy had expected. He remembered burning his feet while trudging on sand like this only a few days ago. A few days for him and millenniums of evolution for the human race, he thought.

The sun above was merciless. The hot air lingered over the dunes, distorting their images. Yet, the temperature inside the suit was rather cool—the computer's countermeasure to the increased blood circulation during the walk. Billy praised the innovation.

The trail wriggled like a snake in between the sandbanks. Although the suit protected him from the heat, it couldn't make sand sturdier. With every step, Billy's foot sank a half step back. The extra effort drained his energy. There was no point in complaining—Billy saw Rohan struggling forward as well.

Being familiar with Rohan's definition of almost there, Billy mentally prepared himself for a long hike.

He was genuinely surprised when the desert suddenly ended, and the trail brought them to a rocky formation colored in peculiar shades of red and yellow.

"The lake should be on the other side," announced Rohan after confirming with his GPS.

The solid ground under his feet and the thought that soon he'd be home gave Billy a boost. He wasn't tired anymore; he felt excited. Rohan didn't say anything when Billy passed him, as if he'd rather have him in front than lagging behind.

When Billy got to the corner of a large rock and stepped up to the big opening, he stumbled unable to take another step. He saw the lake all right. However, it wasn't the view of the lake that made the blood freeze in his veins. He saw soldiers. Lots of them. The same soldiers from that chapter when he was a slave. They lay on the ground motionless, scattered all over. They were all dead.

Rohan caught up with Billy. He stopped, speechless. Then he gently put his hands on Billy's shoulders and squeezed them tightly.

"Are we in the past?" Billy asked.

"That's impossible," Rohan replied.

They gingerly moved forward. When they got to the nearest soldiers, it became clear what killed them; the skin on the parts of the bodies that weren't covered by robes was completely burned.

Rohan prowled slowly among the corpses, looking for anyone alive. Billy couldn't take it any longer; breathing heavily, he stood aside, his heart pounding. The microcomputer on his belt was humming perplexedly, apparently having difficulty reading his vital signs.

A sudden rustle caught Billy's attention. He glanced in the direction of the sound and saw a man, hidden in the shadow of a big rock. The man sat on the ground, his body leaning against the rock. Rohan noticed him too.

"Khamunaph?" Billy whispered in disbelief.

"Brother!" Rohan exclaimed.

Billy's eyes widened. What?

Rohan bolted to the High Priest. He landed near and lifted his visor.

Khamunaph slowly opened his eyes. "Rohan," he pronounced wearily with dry lips.

"Here, take this." Rohan disconnected the oxygen tank from his belt and tried to put the breathing tubes on the High Priest's face.

"No need for that." With a weak motion Khamunaph pushed the help away. "It's too late for me, anyway."

"Why are you here . . .? How did you get here . . .? How did you know?" Rohan removed his helmet and put it on the ground.

"Did you really think there was only one plate?" the High Priest asked. "How many ways can you modify the plate?"

Rohan shook his head. "Only one, brother, only one." His eyes turned watery.

"You are not the only one who thinks three moves ahead." Khamunaph forced a fading smile. "I outwitted you, Rohan."

"Yes, you did, brother. Yes, you did." He gently tugged Khamunaph closer and put his arms round him.

When Billy approached, he had an awkward feeling—never had he dreamed of seeing Rohan embracing his worst enemy like that. Then he took a closer look at the High Priest.

"I can't believe it!" Billy exclaimed. "This is exactly like my dream!" He pointed at the white blisters covering the High Priest's arms and face. "Only I thought the dream was about me."

Khamunaph gave Rohan a curious look. "Is he a glimpser?"

"I'm not sure." Rohan shook his head. "That was only one dream."

"What's a glimpser?" Billy asked.

"Some of those who had come in contact with crystals obtained a unique quality," Rohan explained. "They became capable of seeing fragments of a possible future in their dreams, in the form of glimpses. We called them 'glimpsers.' Very rare occurrences, though."

Rohan addressed his brother again, "How did you manage to bring all these soldiers? They are not Librarians; none of them have the hourglass."

"The panel," whispered Khamunaph.

"You built the panel?"

"I think we both knew that it was only a matter of time." The High Priest closed his eyes, gathering strength to continue. "I think that whatever happened today is for the best."

"I never wanted it to be like this," Rohan said.

"I know," murmured the High Priest, "and I do not blame you." He paused. "If you ask people what the worst drug in the world is, everyone will give you a different answer. I found mine—it is power. Once I had a taste of it, I couldn't stop."

Rohan embraced his brother more strongly in his arms. "I love you, brother, I always have."

"I know . . ." The dry lips barely moved. "Take care of . . ."

The lips stopped moving. The High Priest's eyes turned into two glass buttons.

"I will." Rohan placed his hand on his brother's face and slid it down. "You know I will."

Billy didn't feel comfortable standing there any longer. He wanted to give Rohan some time alone, so he turned around and walked towards the lake.

He kept on thinking about what had happened. So, Rohan was royalty too. That explains his ability to travel so much. _I'm not just a Librarian_ —Billy remembered their conversation in the car. Although Rohan had never mentioned his relationship to Khamunaph, all this time they were brothers. What had happened between them? They weren't always enemies. What put them on opposite sides of the barricade? Wait a second—if Rohan and Khamunaph were brothers, then Anna-Maria was Rohan's niece. Was she the one who Khamunaph asked Rohan to take care of?

* * *

# Chapter Thirty-Eight

### Forget Me Not

With his mind deep into his thoughts, Billy didn't notice how he got to the lake.

It was nothing like he imagined. The water wasn't just dark; it was completely black. The entire lake looked more like an oil spill.

Billy squatted down at the edge. There was a thin line of crystals—a result of thousands of years of evaporation. Now Billy understood what Rohan meant when he said the lake almost never dried out. Billy stretched his arm out and dug his gloved fingers into the crystals. They sparkled in the sunshine just like inside the hourglass.

He took a few steps back, picked up a small rock, and tossed it into the lake. The rock hit the water, creating a few splashes. There was something strange about it, though. Billy picked up a bigger rock and threw it farther. This time he noticed that the splashes were all black. The water wasn't transparent at all. It was rather creepy. Billy found a very big rock. He had already raised his hand when a voice in his helmet sounded, "That's enough." Billy looked back. Rohan stood behind him. His helmet was on and his face was mournful. Billy let go of the rock. He felt embarrassed at his childish behavior.

"I'm sorry," Billy said. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"It's all right." Rohan sighed in response. He took a long look at the lake, surrounded by red rocks. "Well, let's get you home." He turned around and started to walk.

"Where are we going?" Billy asked, catching up.

"We need to find Khamunaph's panel to send you back."

"I thought we had the hourglass."

"The panel is better. I can send you back alone and then finish my business here," Rohan explained.

"How are we going to find the panel?"

"By the footprints, of course."

Billy looked down. The soldiers' footprints were easy to spot on the dusty terrain. It was so obvious he felt embarrassed that he had asked.

Following the tracks, Rohan and Billy left the lake valley and stepped into a labyrinth of red rocks. Whenever they discovered another burned body on the way, Billy would turn his face away. The gruesome spectacle made his stomach churn. The longer they walked, the more clearly the extent of the tragedy that had happened here was unveiled in front of their eyes. Strong Egyptian soldiers were no strangers to the heat. They didn't complain at the first sign of discomfort. By the time they realized that the sun wasn't just unusually hot but deadly, it was too late to go back. This world had turned into a giant microwave for them, and the door back was out of reach. What a horrific trap.

Billy also felt sorry for Khamunaph, who, in trying to ensnare Rohan, fell victim to his own cunning.

He tried to push these thoughts away but they kept coming back, mingled with others: Anna-Maria, Rohan, home, school, another dead soldier . . . Intermittently, his body would shift from a hot sweat to a cold sweat, keeping the microcomputer on his belt constantly busy.

Billy was genuinely glad when after one of the turns they almost ran into the panel. The device was a small circular podium, rising slightly above the ground. Attached to its side was a control panel with three rings similar to those on the hourglass.

"Stand on top," said Rohan. "I'll set up the coordinates."

"Wait," pronounced Billy. "This is it?"

"Basically, yes. You just have to . . ."

"No, I mean is this the end?"

"I'm afraid so," Rohan said softly.

"Will I remember anything of this?"

"If the merger is precise, I'm afraid not."

"What about you? Where will you go?"

"I'd rather not discuss it now," Rohan said.

"I know it won't be the future," Billy guessed. "I've seen it and I don't like it very much."

They both chuckled.

"My time is boring," continued Billy. "Nothing happens there. So you'll probably go to the past. I'll look for you in history books."

"I wouldn't count on it," Rohan said and smiled. "Besides, it's a shame you feel that way about your time. You live in the most important period of human history."

"That can't be true," Billy said doubtfully." All the discoveries are done; all the inventions are invented."

"Life is a wonderful thing regardless of whether you live in the first chapter or the last one. Every day you may discover something new for yourself.

"Your parents and grandparents did a great job, building the world you live in today. But in the rush of technological amusement they neglected to clean up after themselves. Now pollution suffocates the planet, causing a very bad chain of events. It is up to your generation to find a way to clean up the mess and keep the planet the way you know it or"—Rohan made a wide gesture—"end up with this."

"If I forget everything that happened to me, how will I know what to do?" Billy asked.

"You have a good heart, Billy. When in doubt, listen to it."

"But I don't want to forget!"

At that moment a distinctive jingle of a chime sounded in the air.

"Did you hear that?" Rohan asked.

"I think it's in your bag," Billy said.

Rohan unzipped his bag and pulled out a satchel with a bomb—the clock was ticking.

"Oh boy," Billy pronounced.

"Oh brother," Rohan whispered.

Only now Billy remembered that the High Priest's weakening hand was lying on Rohan's bag when he was holding him. "Did he . . . "Billy started.

". . . activate the bomb?" Rohan finished his question. "Yes. And the chime was the five-minute mark."

"We have to go back to the lake!" Billy exclaimed.

"There is no time for that," Rohan replied. "Step on the platform."

"I can do this," Billy insisted. "I'm the fastest runner in the class."

Rohan hesitated for a moment, analyzing the situation. Then he made a decision. He grabbed Billy's wrist and made a few clicks on his timer. "I set up the alarm for two minutes," he said. "If you don't make it to the lake before the alarm sounds, you must go back. Do you understand?"

Billy nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Now hurry. I'll set up your coordinates."

Billy ran. Then after a few steps he stopped and swirled around. "Rohan!" he shouted. "The hourglass!"

"What?"

"If you flip the hourglass over it would buy us some time!" A triumphant smile lit Billy's face.

"If I flip the hourglass over you'll be frozen. If you do, the clock would not stop. This is the only way. Now run!"

And Billy ran. He ran like never before in his life. The dead bodies on the way didn't bother him anymore. On the contrary, he used them to guide himself back to the lake. He was on a mission now, and there was no time to get emotional. The heat inside his suit increased. That's when he felt a light touch of cold air on his skin—the air conditioner kicked in at full power. It helped.

When Billy made it to the lake, heavily panting, he glanced at his timer—there were thirty seconds left before the alarm. Perfect. The water seemed even darker than before, as if the lake could read his mind, sense his intentions. Billy got closer to the edge, swung his hand and tossed the satchel as far as he could. The bomb landed in the water with a muffled splash. The boy spun around and ran back—there was not a moment to waste.

Billy was the fastest in his class—that was true. He could easily sprint but only for seconds, not minutes. With every step his body was getting heavier. His bulky and oversized suit wasn't much help either. Sweat dripped down his forehead into his eyes despite the air conditioner humming at full power. A few times Billy instinctively tried to wipe the sweat off his face, but his hand only hit the plastic of his helmet. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes felt like hours. Suffocating in his suit and utterly exhausted, Billy was about to open the visor of his helmet with the hope of filling his lungs with fresh air. The sight of a charred body of another Egyptian soldier stopped him. I have to move fast, Billy thought. If I don't make it in time, we'll be stuck here forever. Without the lake even Rohan won't be able to change anything. This thought gave him strength, and he doubled his effort.

When Billy finally saw Rohan frantically waving his arms, his heart was pounding so hard it felt as if it was about to jump out of his body.

"Good boy, Billy. You made it!" Rohan grabbed him by the waist and helped him up onto the round platform. Then he went back to the control panel.

"Wait!" Billy shouted. His voice sounded hoarse as he was trying to catch his breath.

"What?"

"I don't want to forget you. I don't want to forget any of this!"

There was a tone of desperation in Billy's voice. Rohan paused for a second. "I'll see what I can do," he promised. Then he gave the boy a final look and activated the panel.

Things started losing their shape. At that moment a flash of bright light illuminated the lake valley. The light was so intense that Billy had to duck and cover his face with his hand. The next moment everything turned dark.

* * *

# Chapter Thirty-Nine

### Just Another Chapter

Water was pouring on Billy's face. He gasped for air and opened his eyes. The heavy dark clouds hung so low he could almost feel their pressure. Billy rose on his elbows and looked around. He was lying in the mud, his clothes soaking wet. He must've tripped and fallen off the road. Billy stood up, picked up his schoolbag, and climbed up the hill.

"Guys!" he shouted. "Wait up! Wait for me, guys!"

He came to what was left of the gate to the castle and hailed again. There was no response.

Billy felt cold. His body was shivering. He checked his mud-covered clothes.

My parents are going to kill me!

He turned around and walked away. Going alone into Gothingham Castle was totally out of question.

Billy didn't remember how he got home. As quietly as possible, he slipped through the front door and headed to his room.

"Billy, is that you?" his mother's voice sounded from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mom!"

"How was school?"

"Fine!"

"How is your homework?" asked Billy's dad without taking his eyes from the TV.

The question brought Billy back to reality.

"Almost done!" he answered. "I started at school."

It was partly true. He did start his homework at school, except it was far from finished.

"Hurry up!" said his mom, "Dinner is almost ready!"

"Okay!"

Billy changed from his wet clothes into dry ones. Then he went to the bathroom and put his hands under the warm water. He stood there for quite some time until his body stopped shivering and he felt warm again.

He went back to his room and pulled out some textbooks and notebooks from his schoolbag and put them on his desk.

"First things first," muttered Billy, opening the first book.

After the homework was done, Billy had dinner with his mom and dad. It was the usual daily routine except for one thing—that day the soup was exceptionally delicious.

The next morning Billy had cereal with milk for breakfast, packed his backpack, and left for school.

When he stepped into the busy schoolyard, someone called him.

"Hey Billy! Did you hear the news?"

It was Trent, Billy's old buddy. They had gone to kindergarten together.

"What news?"

"Division four had a surprise math quiz yesterday. We might have one today."

"Thanks for the intel, bro."

"They won't get us that easy." The friends laughed and went inside the building.

As the teacher entered the classroom, she shocked the students with the news: today there was a math quiz.

The class exploded.

"What? We never knew!"

"You never told us!"

"We are not ready!"

Billy and Trent exchanged conspiratorial looks.

The teacher stood there quietly waiting for the first wave of fury to calm down.

"I deliberately chose not to announce the quiz. It is easy to pass a test when you study the night before. However, usually the next day after the test you don't remember half of it." She paused to make sure she had everyone's attention. "Therefore," she continued, "only good marks will be counted. Bad marks, on the other hand, will indicate areas that need to be improved. After all, this is for your own good."

Realizing they didn't have much of a choice, everyone started to pull out their papers and pencils.

"If you ask me," muttered Billy's friend, Mike, who sat in front of him, "an unannounced math quiz is like a knife in your back— _'for your own good.'_ "

Billy couldn't hold back a smile. Then he opened his bag and reached for the paper.

"What the heck?"

Instead of a blank sheet he held a poster with his picture in the middle and big letters underneath, that stated: "Missing." Billy skimmed the poster ". . . last seen in October . . ."

"Very funny," he muttered and looked around. To his surprise, no one pointed finger at him and no one laughed.

Billy angrily shoved the poster back into his bag. At the bottom of the bag his fingers ran into something strange. He pulled out a small rubber balloon filed with sand.

Stress reliever? he thought. Where did this come from? Who's messing with my stuff? Billy gazed around again. Everyone was busy with the quiz.

He decided to do the same and get to the bottom of the mystery later.

After class, Billy strolled throughout the school, holding the stress reliever and hoping that whoever planted it in his bag would notice it and start talking. Unfortunately, it didn't work.

He didn't yet want to show the "Missing" poster to anyone, in order to avoid potential mockery, so he left this puzzle for tomorrow.

When Billy got home, he tripped over a garbage bag that his mom had put outside for him to take out. Its contents got scattered all over the porch. It seemed like it wasn't his day after all.

"Mom!" Billy shouted, gathering juice boxes. "This is recycling! You can't put this together with the garbage!"

"Sorry," Billy's mom replied from inside the house. "I forgot."

Billy grunted and threw the recycling into a separate bag.

The evening went as usual: homework, dinner . . .

After dinner Billy asked his father if he would like to play chess with him. Dad looked at Mom, obviously baffled.

She shrugged. "The boy is growing up."

Billy won this game. Although he suspected that his dad didn't play his strongest against him, there were a few moments when Billy made him sweat. In his heart Billy knew that today's game was different from any other; instead of simply moving the pieces like he usually did, this time he really tried to think three steps ahead. His dad seemed genuinely surprised and proud of him.

That day was no different from any other day, yet Billy couldn't get rid of a strong feeling that something was missing. No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't find a way to fill the void. With this mood he went to bed. He put the stress reliever on the night stand beside him, closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

He had a dream . . .

He was in the park. Kids' voices lingered over the playground. Billy used to play there when he was little. Two people were sitting on a bench nearby. They saw Billy and rose—a man in his fifties with short white hair and a girl about Billy's age. Billy walked towards them. He couldn't take his eyes away from the girl's face. Her hair, her eyes, her nose, her lips—every line on her face was in the right place. She was simply perfect. She stretched out her arm. "Hello, Billy."

She knew his name, but it didn't surprise him. "Hi," he answered and shook her hand.

Her skin felt so warm and soft. A big smile grew from ear to ear on Billy's face and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He tried to speak through it instead: "I've never seen you before, but it feels like I've known you forever."

" _Maybe from a previous life?" She smiled._

" _Maybe."_

The man stepped forward. He put his hand on Billy's shoulder. "How are you, kid?"

" _I'm fine," Billy answered, still smiling._

" _Good." The man nodded. His eyes locked onto Billy's as if he was trying to see what was behind them. "Good," he said again. Then he turned to the girl. "I think that's enough for the first time."_

" _Yes, Uncle," she replied._

They started walking away. The images began to fade.

" _By the way"—the girl stopped and turned to Billy—"I liked that kiss."_

Billy opened his eyes, fully awake. There he lay in his bed, peering through the darkness of the night. But only moments ago he was in a park far away from here. The experience felt so real that for some time he couldn't tell which one was a dream—the park or his bedroom.

The images of that girl were still fresh in his memory—her face, her eyes . . . There was something magical about her green eyes. Then, from somewhere at the deepest corners of his subconscious, other images emerged: a desert, a palace, slaves . . .

"Agh!" Billy sat up, breathing heavily. "Anna-Maria . . ." A nearly silent whisper rolled off his lips.

He slowly lay back on his pillow and pulled up his sheets. He wasn't sure whether whatever he saw that night was a dream, a premonition, or a fragment from his previous life, which he didn't believe in anyway. Of one thing he was certain: that girl was real and sooner or later they would meet again. He didn't yet know how or when, but that didn't bother him. He just knew.

###

# Facts

1. Raindrops are indeed shaped like spheres.

2. Nostradamus (1503–1566) wrote a book, _The Prophecies_ , predicting major historical events, such as the French Revolution, rise of Napoleon, both World Wars, et cetera.

3. There is evidence that the earliest, most primitive forms of bowling were played in Ancient Egypt.

4. Egypt, China, and Florida are situated on the same latitude.

5. Florida was ruled by the Kingdom of Great Britain from 1763 to 1783.

6. A powerful earthquake of magnitude 7.3 on the Richter scale shook the city of Haicheng, Liaoning, China, on February 4, 1975, at 7:36 p.m., local time. The early evacuation saved many lives. That was the only successful evacuation before a devastating earthquake in history.

7. The ozone layer that protects Earth from solar radiation is being depleted by the use of ODS (ozone depleting substances) found in many applications including refrigeration, foam blowing, air conditioning, solvents, etc.

8. Recycling helps to slow down global warming.

