get some clothes from Mama. But with the raid …’
‘I saw something we might be able to use,’ Simon said, heading back inside the cabin.
Danice brought up a map on her wrist pilot. ‘I’ll just check the exact location of the power station from here. It’s about three-and-a-half kilometres that way—east.’ She looked around. ‘Hey, where are you?’
Simon came back with two pairs of worn, paint-spotted overalls and a couple of khaki caps. ‘What about these?’
‘Real attractive.’ Danice smiled. ‘But they’ll do.’
Several minutes later, in disguise and having climbed down the tower, they sauntered into a crowded town square outside the airfield.
‘What is this, some sort of carnival?’ Simon asked.
‘The open-air market,’ Danice said. ‘It’s on every Saturday—the whole city turns out. For most people, it’s the only time they get off work.’
Simon nodded and looked around the city square. A troupe of fire-breathing performers lit up a distant corner and a circle of eager children watched an elephant perform balancing tricks. Bumpy horse-drawn wagons trundled along a narrow, centre road, alongside new, shiny solar-powered cars. Neatly dressed shoppers haggled for bargains at pushcarts laden with bright clothes and knick-knacks, while ragged beggars called out for food or money.
Simon realised that the city square was a combination of both the old and the new worlds. He also realised that he and Danice were two out of just a handful of people in all of history who had directly experienced both worlds for themselves.
But what Simon noticed most were the security guards and soldiers. They seemed to be everywhere: mean-looking men in blue or black uniforms, their eyes hidden behind wraparound sunglasses. All of them had thick leather belts bristling with batons, pistols, crowd-control sprays and handcuffs. Here was proof that the Tribunes and their men were in tight control of the city and its people, Simon thought. He could easily report that to the Time Bureau when they returned. He and Danice had achieved their first objective.
‘Keep off the road! Keep off the road!’ a guard roared at a cowering child.
‘Don’t stare,’ Danice murmured to Simon. ‘If you stare, he’ll think you’re challenging his authority. They don’t like being challenged, believe me.’
Simon turned his head away and immediately tripped over a bag of spilt potatoes. He stumbled into the road. A horn blared. Danice grabbed him by the overalls and pulled him out of the path of an armoured minibus. ‘Let’s get out of here! You’re attracting too much attention!’
She elbowed her way to the far side of the square with Simon in tow, then hauled him down a narrow lane and into the shadows.
As he was dragged along, Simon was glad Danice was leading the way. He felt out of his depth here in the future. But he knew he would have to get a grip on himself soon, if he wanted to make it back to the twenty-first century.
18
R ain lashed down through the dripping trees.
‘How many of our people did they take?’ Hanna asked. She was sitting on a log near the entrance of a giant, hollow redwood.
‘Thirty, forty, no one’s sure,’ Damien replied, stepping inside and wiping the moisture from his face. ‘Some might have escaped to the other hiding places.’
‘Then we probably won’t see them for a while,’ Alli said. She huddled on a stool and pulled a possum-skin rug tight around her shoulders for warmth.
Damien swept dirt and leaves off a rickety wooden chair and sat down. A rush of tiredness swept over him. He badly needed to rest.
‘Get yourself a drink,’ Hanna said, pointing to the gourd of water on the makeshift table.
Damien gulped down a few mouthfuls and glanced around the inside of their temporary hide-out. It was many months since they had used the Fire Caves—soot-blackened chambers burnt deep into the boles of the trees by the wildfires that tore through the forests every decade
‘I saw something we might be able to use,’ Simon said, heading back inside the cabin.
Danice brought up a map on her wrist pilot. ‘I’ll just check the exact location of the power station from here. It’s about three-and-a-half kilometres that way—east.’ She looked around. ‘Hey, where are you?’
Simon came back with two pairs of worn, paint-spotted overalls and a couple of khaki caps. ‘What about these?’
‘Real attractive.’ Danice smiled. ‘But they’ll do.’
Several minutes later, in disguise and having climbed down the tower, they sauntered into a crowded town square outside the airfield.
‘What is this, some sort of carnival?’ Simon asked.
‘The open-air market,’ Danice said. ‘It’s on every Saturday—the whole city turns out. For most people, it’s the only time they get off work.’
Simon nodded and looked around the city square. A troupe of fire-breathing performers lit up a distant corner and a circle of eager children watched an elephant perform balancing tricks. Bumpy horse-drawn wagons trundled along a narrow, centre road, alongside new, shiny solar-powered cars. Neatly dressed shoppers haggled for bargains at pushcarts laden with bright clothes and knick-knacks, while ragged beggars called out for food or money.
Simon realised that the city square was a combination of both the old and the new worlds. He also realised that he and Danice were two out of just a handful of people in all of history who had directly experienced both worlds for themselves.
But what Simon noticed most were the security guards and soldiers. They seemed to be everywhere: mean-looking men in blue or black uniforms, their eyes hidden behind wraparound sunglasses. All of them had thick leather belts bristling with batons, pistols, crowd-control sprays and handcuffs. Here was proof that the Tribunes and their men were in tight control of the city and its people, Simon thought. He could easily report that to the Time Bureau when they returned. He and Danice had achieved their first objective.
‘Keep off the road! Keep off the road!’ a guard roared at a cowering child.
‘Don’t stare,’ Danice murmured to Simon. ‘If you stare, he’ll think you’re challenging his authority. They don’t like being challenged, believe me.’
Simon turned his head away and immediately tripped over a bag of spilt potatoes. He stumbled into the road. A horn blared. Danice grabbed him by the overalls and pulled him out of the path of an armoured minibus. ‘Let’s get out of here! You’re attracting too much attention!’
She elbowed her way to the far side of the square with Simon in tow, then hauled him down a narrow lane and into the shadows.
As he was dragged along, Simon was glad Danice was leading the way. He felt out of his depth here in the future. But he knew he would have to get a grip on himself soon, if he wanted to make it back to the twenty-first century.
18
R ain lashed down through the dripping trees.
‘How many of our people did they take?’ Hanna asked. She was sitting on a log near the entrance of a giant, hollow redwood.
‘Thirty, forty, no one’s sure,’ Damien replied, stepping inside and wiping the moisture from his face. ‘Some might have escaped to the other hiding places.’
‘Then we probably won’t see them for a while,’ Alli said. She huddled on a stool and pulled a possum-skin rug tight around her shoulders for warmth.
Damien swept dirt and leaves off a rickety wooden chair and sat down. A rush of tiredness swept over him. He badly needed to rest.
‘Get yourself a drink,’ Hanna said, pointing to the gourd of water on the makeshift table.
Damien gulped down a few mouthfuls and glanced around the inside of their temporary hide-out. It was many months since they had used the Fire Caves—soot-blackened chambers burnt deep into the boles of the trees by the wildfires that tore through the forests every decade
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