Time Trapped by Richard Ungar

Abbie,” says Uncle. “And finally, Caleb.”
    I take the pointer and aim it at Razor. “The only thing I know about her is that right before I snatched her, she was on her way somewhere with a couple of the ship’s crew.”
    â€œVery well,” says Uncle. “It appears that everyone has performed splendidly. And I would go so far as to say that the entire day was a smashing success. Wouldn’t you all agree?”
    Everyone nods.
    I look through the two-way. The kid that was crying before has now settled down and is whimpering softly.
    â€œAll right, then. You have all earned a well-deserved rest. Tomorrow morning you will each be assigned two recruits and training will begin in earnest. With that, I bid you good evening.
Oidhche mhath!
” Uncle gives us a little bow.
    â€œ
Oidhche mhath,
” we all say, returning the bow.
    â€œCaleb, if I might see you for a moment, please,” Uncle says.
    â€œCertainly, Uncle.” My palms go all clammy.
    Everyone leaves, and I’m alone with Uncle. Only one other person makes me as uncomfortable, and he’s just Harvard strutted from the room.
    â€œHow are you doing, Caleb?” he says. “We really haven’t spoken since your . . . return.”
    â€œI’m fine, Uncle,” I lie. My stomach is doing somersaults. Here comes the punishment that I’ve been expecting.
    â€œYou and I have a long history together, don’t we?” says Uncle.
    I nod. I wish he would get on with things and banish me to the Barrens or cut off my big toe or whatever he’s going to do, because the waiting is driving me crazy.
    â€œI imagine you have been wondering why I invited you back to Timeless Treasures after your abrupt and, may I say, rather rude, departure.”
    He calls it being invited back. I call it being tackled by a six-foot-five hulking monster.
    â€œI was kind of wondering, Uncle,” I say.
    â€œI invited you to return because, deep down, I know that you and I share similar values, that we both want to do things that are right, moral and true.”
    My missing little toe is beginning to itch. What is he getting at?
    â€œYou may recall me mentioning recently that mankind would be better off if certain historical wrongs were corrected.”
    â€œYes, I remember you saying that, Uncle.”
    â€œI now have some ideas on how to bring this to fruition. I am inviting both you and Frank to a private meeting to discuss this further. Are you free at eleven tomorrow morning?”
    Am I free? That’s a good one. I was free until his goon snatched me and hauled me back here. Now it’s fair to say that I’m time trapped. Of course he probably doesn’t see it that way, since with my new patch, I can travel to a million different times and places throughout history. It’s just that I can’t go to the one time and place that matters to me most: 1968 Boston.
    â€œSure, I’m available,” I say.
    â€œExcellent.”
    â€œIs that all, Uncle?”
    He smiles and says nothing. Goose bumps race up and down my arms. A small wisp of a thought begins to take hold in my mind—that I might actually leave this meeting without being punished. I try to crush the thought before it takes hold because, as unpredictable as Uncle is, he usually inflicts his punishments at the very end of meetings, when you have one foot out the door.
    â€œYes, Caleb, that is all. Except for one small matter . . .”
    I swallow hard.
    â€œAs you are freshly back from a rather long absence,” Uncle continues, “it would do you good to reacquaint yourself with the Compound. You will see that we have made some changes, including relocating the sleeping quarters for all senior time snatchers to here from Headquarters. Why don’t you assist Luca with the tour he will be giving this week’s new recruits? It will begin shortly—as soon as they receive their