Time Riders

CHAPTER 42

1956, Washington DC

‘Where… w-where are we going?’ asked Liam.

The rear of the army truck dropped down, presenting them with a ramp. The German soldiersushered them up, waving their guns.

‘Re-education camp,’ said the suited man Liam and Bob had interrogated earlier inthe White House.

‘What?’

‘I heard that’s what happened to all the people in New York when the Germans tookit. That’s where everyone’s headed.’

‘Re-education camp?’

‘Prison camps, that’s what they really are… that’s where we’reheaded,’ the man sighed. ‘If we’re lucky.’

Liam turned to look at him. ‘Uh… what if we’re unlucky?’

‘They’ll just take us somewhere quiet and shoot us.’

Liam felt his mouth suddenly dry and his skin prickle. He looked across the heads of hisfellow prisoners, searching once more for any sign of Bob. If the support unit was going toactually support him, he’d better get a move on and dosomething.

In the gathering dusk it was getting harder to pick anything out. But he thought he couldjust about detect the distinct outline of a particularly tall and muscular German soldier,standing perfectly still a hundred yards away, looking intently back at him.

Bob?

‘Oh Jay-zus… come on, Bob! Get me the hell out of here!’ he whimpered underhis breath.

The man in the suit looked at him curiously. ‘Hey, kid. You and that big friend ofyours… you said some weird thing about the future back in the — ’

‘Yes,’ Liam replied distractedly, ‘I don’t suppose it matters nowwhere we said we came from.’ He craned his neck to catchsight of Bob one last time, but the lone figure, standing motionless, had disappeared.

God help me.

A soldier barked irritably at Liam to get a move on up the ramp and into the truck, grabbinghis arm and pushing him roughly forward.

‘Do as they say,’ muttered the man beside Liam. ‘Be glad they didn’tjust shoot us all right here on the lawn.’

Liam stepped up and inside, finding a wooden bench in the darkness to sit down on. It wasdark enough, he hoped, to ensure the man wouldn’t see the twin tracks of tears rollingdown his dirt-smudged cheeks.

Bob watched the last of the prisoners climb aboard and the truck’s enginerattle to life, billowing out a cloud of exhaust fumes.

[Chance of success 0.5 %]

It made no practical sense to attempt a rescue of Liam O’Connor now. Even if his bodycould survive dozens of bullet wounds… Liam’s wouldn’t. He watched as thetruck rolled away across the lawn, through a fence and bounced across a pavement and on to thehard tarmac of a broad avenue.

The highest priority at this moment in time was for him to return to the future with whatlittle intelligence they had managed to gather. The missed-window protocolmeant the field office would try one last scheduled window amid the cedar trees in preciselytwenty-two hours.

Until then Bob calculated his best course of action was to find somewhere to lie low andundetected. More importantly, his body had sustained several bullet wounds around his torso.No critical organs had been damaged and the blood had clotted, preventing further loss, butthe wounds would need cleaning, disinfecting and dressing. His software informed him thatfailure to do so soon would result in an eighty-three per cent chance of a spreading bacterialinfection and eventual systemic failure of his organic body.

He would die… just like a human.

He walked away from the other soldiers, some of whom had begun to glance suspiciously at hisunfamiliar face. He strode swiftly across the grounds of the White House, passing unnoticedamid the flurry of activity going on — appearing in the gathering dusk as if he was justanother trooper given an important errand to perform with all haste.