and more easily navigate the herd of stationary beasts. Polly began to growl.
“Sssshhhh! Polly!” she whispered, her heart pounding like a hammer inside her chest.
“There!” the first guard’s voice shouted. “By the tiger!” His light-beam had fallen right on her. The men began shoving their way through the animals toward her and she scrambled to escape the light. Then she saw it.
Ahead of her and a little off to her left, she could see a faint blue glow on the floor. She scrambled towards it, having to use one arm now to hold her panicked terrier’s collar to keep her from jumping all the way out of the backpack. She scurried closer and the glow became stronger; it was her set of footprints, sure enough.
“Samantha?” her wrist crackled. She hit the talk button with her teeth just as she was standing up in the footprints, holding Polly firm and staring at a security guard that was no more than six feet away and closing fast.
“NOW, PROFESSOR! NOW!!!”
Mayan symbols exploded in her head once again, the world turning blue and flickering in and out. The security guard had stopped dead and was staring at her in disbelief, but he too began to flicker along with the darkness and prehistoric beasts, and images of the great stone time machine with The Professor at its controls began to replace those of the room in 1931. In a moment, it was all gone and Samantha found herself in the more familiar room, staring down at her feet on the thick slab of granite that made up the time machine’s platform. She thought she saw a light puff of smoke as she stumbled off of it, letting go of Polly and collapsing onto the floor.
*
She awoke moments later to her dog’s licking tongue and The Professor’s worried voice.
“Samantha!? Samantha, are you all right?”
“I–uuuhhh–yeah, I think so.” She sat up, looking around. “I must’ve... fainted,” she thought out loud.
“Come on now, girl, just relax. Take some deep breaths.”
Samantha did as she was told; she couldn’t, she felt, have done much else, actually. The running and the adrenalin surge had left her soaked in sweat, and she took off the heavy wool coat and shook her head. She felt very tired.
“Professor,” she said weakly, “I think I need to sleep for a little bit.”
“That’s fine, Samantha. Not a problem.” He was listening to her heartbeat with a stethoscope. “Come on over here and lay down.” He took her, standing her up slowly, over to the pile of Peruvian rugs she had come to know as her bed, and helped her lay down, stroking her forehead.
“Just for a little,” she mumbled, and then she was out.
*
When she awoke again, The Professor was sitting over her, a steaming cup of tea in his hands.
“Posthumous Postmen!” he blubbered. “Had me scared there, Agent Smart! How are you feeling?” He handed her the cup of tea.
“How long was I asleep?” she asked groggily, taking the hot beverage and sipping it.
“Hours,” The Professor replied. “But I’ve got some good news for you. After I determined you were all right, I took Polly for a walk to get some tea–I, I locked you in–I hope you don’t mind–just for about an hour. I rented us a bit of a hotel room down the road–had to pay extra for the bloody dog,” he eyed Polly disapprovingly. “We can all stay there tonight, though. It’s got proper beds and a wonderful shower in the loo. Come on, if you’re up to it we can walk there. It’s only about half-eight–er–eight-thirty to you yanks. Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” Samantha gurgled through her tea. “And I would die for a shower.”
The Professor helped her up and she put down the empty tea cup, which she had quickly drained.
“Right, then, we’ll get you fed and showered up. Then we can talk about what needs to happen next.” Samantha nodded, yawning.
They walked upstairs and out of the museum, pausing momentarily to look up at the main lobby’s barosauraus,
a gigantic assembly of
“Sssshhhh! Polly!” she whispered, her heart pounding like a hammer inside her chest.
“There!” the first guard’s voice shouted. “By the tiger!” His light-beam had fallen right on her. The men began shoving their way through the animals toward her and she scrambled to escape the light. Then she saw it.
Ahead of her and a little off to her left, she could see a faint blue glow on the floor. She scrambled towards it, having to use one arm now to hold her panicked terrier’s collar to keep her from jumping all the way out of the backpack. She scurried closer and the glow became stronger; it was her set of footprints, sure enough.
“Samantha?” her wrist crackled. She hit the talk button with her teeth just as she was standing up in the footprints, holding Polly firm and staring at a security guard that was no more than six feet away and closing fast.
“NOW, PROFESSOR! NOW!!!”
Mayan symbols exploded in her head once again, the world turning blue and flickering in and out. The security guard had stopped dead and was staring at her in disbelief, but he too began to flicker along with the darkness and prehistoric beasts, and images of the great stone time machine with The Professor at its controls began to replace those of the room in 1931. In a moment, it was all gone and Samantha found herself in the more familiar room, staring down at her feet on the thick slab of granite that made up the time machine’s platform. She thought she saw a light puff of smoke as she stumbled off of it, letting go of Polly and collapsing onto the floor.
*
She awoke moments later to her dog’s licking tongue and The Professor’s worried voice.
“Samantha!? Samantha, are you all right?”
“I–uuuhhh–yeah, I think so.” She sat up, looking around. “I must’ve... fainted,” she thought out loud.
“Come on now, girl, just relax. Take some deep breaths.”
Samantha did as she was told; she couldn’t, she felt, have done much else, actually. The running and the adrenalin surge had left her soaked in sweat, and she took off the heavy wool coat and shook her head. She felt very tired.
“Professor,” she said weakly, “I think I need to sleep for a little bit.”
“That’s fine, Samantha. Not a problem.” He was listening to her heartbeat with a stethoscope. “Come on over here and lay down.” He took her, standing her up slowly, over to the pile of Peruvian rugs she had come to know as her bed, and helped her lay down, stroking her forehead.
“Just for a little,” she mumbled, and then she was out.
*
When she awoke again, The Professor was sitting over her, a steaming cup of tea in his hands.
“Posthumous Postmen!” he blubbered. “Had me scared there, Agent Smart! How are you feeling?” He handed her the cup of tea.
“How long was I asleep?” she asked groggily, taking the hot beverage and sipping it.
“Hours,” The Professor replied. “But I’ve got some good news for you. After I determined you were all right, I took Polly for a walk to get some tea–I, I locked you in–I hope you don’t mind–just for about an hour. I rented us a bit of a hotel room down the road–had to pay extra for the bloody dog,” he eyed Polly disapprovingly. “We can all stay there tonight, though. It’s got proper beds and a wonderful shower in the loo. Come on, if you’re up to it we can walk there. It’s only about half-eight–er–eight-thirty to you yanks. Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” Samantha gurgled through her tea. “And I would die for a shower.”
The Professor helped her up and she put down the empty tea cup, which she had quickly drained.
“Right, then, we’ll get you fed and showered up. Then we can talk about what needs to happen next.” Samantha nodded, yawning.
They walked upstairs and out of the museum, pausing momentarily to look up at the main lobby’s barosauraus,
a gigantic assembly of
Similar Books
