Read Online Time Trapped by Richard Ungar - Free Book Online Page A

don’t understand, Uncle,” says Lydia. “If he is not able to paint as well, won’t that mean less money for us?”
    How caring. A guy has just had his hand chopped off and all Lydia can think about is her allowance going down.
    â€œAn excellent question, Lydia. One that I am afraid will take longer to answer than the time allotted to this part of today’s outing. Suffice it to say that lately I have done some deep thinking about life’s big questions, including the flaws of history and how mankind would be better off if certain historical wrongs were corrected. And I would count as a historical wrong any event that diminishes one of the greatest attributes of civilized humanity—creativity. It is the charlatans and the fraudsters and the second-rate forgers like Julien who by their actions pollute the pristine waters of artistic expression and taint the purity of the world’s creativity!”
    Lydia nods. No one else says anything, but I’m sure they’re asking the same question I am: what the heck is he talking about? Correcting “historical wrongs”? It sounds crazy. And who gets to decide what part of history needs correcting?
    The alley is shrouded in fog, and everything seems dreamlike. For a moment, it’s as though the haze is penetrating more than just my surroundings . . . it’s also inside me. I watch as Uncle turns out of the alley and gets swallowed up by the fog.
    Luca’s voice cuts through the mist. “Grab your clothes packets and change quickly. Uncle and I will meet you at the next time/place.”
    Judging from what I’ve just seen, I take back anything I ever said about Uncle getting soft or losing his edge. And as I change clothes, an even scarier thought occurs to me—Uncle made Julien wait for two months before punishing him. But in the end, Julien’s punishment came. In spades.
    I wonder how long he’s going to make me wait for mine?

May 24, 1978, 6:41 P.M.
    Aboard the cruise ship Bonnie Prince Charlie
Inner Hebrides, off the coast of Scotland
    I ’m lying on my back, looking up at the sky, feeling the ship’s gentle vibration beneath me.
    I know from the quick briefing Luca gave us that we’re cruising somewhere off the west coast of Scotland.
    As my time freeze thaws, I’m able to move my head. I’ve landed between two empty deck chairs.
    I check the time on my fingernail. 6:41 P.M. I’m surprised there aren’t more people out on the deck. Except for a couple playing a game of shuffleboard and two teenagers having an evening swim in the pool, I’m all alone.
    â€œHey. Are you dead . . . or what?” says a voice.
    A skinny boy with straggly black hair is staring down at me. He looks about ten years old and is wearing a bomber jacket that is two sizes too big for him.
    â€œI’m stretching out my back,” I say. “The deck chairs aren’t any good for that.”
    â€œWhatever moves you, Jack.”
    The boy glances around and then runs off.
    Something about him strikes me as odd, but I can’t figure out what it is.
    I stand up and walk over to the rail. A stiff wind comes up, and I hold on, gazing out at steep cliffs across the gray-blue water.
    We’ve got a break until dinner, and that suits me fine. I need some time to figure things out. Everything has been so confusing. Arriving at Headquarters yesterday, having my brain poked and then going on this whirlwind tour with Uncle.
    I wonder what Zach, Jim and Diane are thinking. That I ran away? Or that I was kidnapped? Either way, they’ll never believe me when I tell them. And how can I tell them if I never make it back? Or what if I do find a way to time travel there but Uncle yanks me back again?
    â€œHey, Caleb,” says a voice, and I whip my head around to see Raoul standing there.
    â€œHi,” I say.
    â€œDinner is in twenty minutes . . . in the Clan