Jonah stared in confusion back and forth between the sleeping man on the ground and the grinning, triumphant-looking man on the screen.
“He knew ahead of time what JB was going to ask?” Katherine muttered.
Oh—it’s pre-recorded, Jonah thought. Video, or something like that.
“Actually, I’m only 94 percent certain that you would ask, ‘What’s he trying to do?’” Second continued, speaking from the screen. “And only 88 percent certain that Andrea would press the button, if I couldn’t. But, as you can see, I prepare for every eventuality. It’s what JB’s been paying me top dollar for, all these years.”
He cleared his throat.
“Speaking of dollars, I want to be clear—I am not in this for the money. I am not like those greedy bumblers, Gary and Hodge. Then, why did I do this, you ask?” He stroked his chin, like an actor trying to look deep and thoughtful. “The short answer is: hope.”
“Oh, please!” JB erupted. “You know better than that!”
“Hope, and . . . I have to admit . . . a bit of boredom,” Second continued. “In my job, I watch the same bit of history again and again, sometimes hundreds of times. Can you blame me for getting a little tired of it all? For wanting to do something besides always making sure everything turns out the same way? For wanting something . . . better?”
“How can you be so sure your changes would be better?” JB yelled at the screen.
“You doubt my certainty?” Second asked, as if he’d anticipated JB’s outburst. “Never mind. I am done with all that. I am finished with projections and predictions and everything we were always so sure about. Let the changes begin! Because . . .” He smiled sweetly. “I have released the ripple.”
“No-o-o-o-o!” JB wailed, diving toward the Elucidator in Andrea’s hand. He fell short, landing on Second’s unconscious form. “No,” he moaned again.
“Too late,” Second taunted from the screen. “It’s already happening.”
JB dug an Elucidator out of his own pocket and began frantically pushing buttons.
“What does he mean, he ‘released the ripple’?” Andrea asked. “And what’s already happening?”
“He broke down our time barrier, to allow the ripples of change to spread forward from you and Brendan and Antonio being kidnapped, and from all of you being incorrectly returned to time,” JB said, without looking up from his Elucidator. “The ripples are already flowing. . . .”
Jonah shivered. Nothing looked any different around him—he was still standing in sand near skeletons and trees. The sun still beat down on his head; the heat was still thick around him. Only Dare acted like something had changed: The dog whimpered and moved close to JB.
Then the ground began to shake.
“What’s that?” Katherine screamed.
“Time’s reacting. Too much change all at once,” JB said curtly. “Here.” He held out his Elucidator. “We’ve got to get you kids to safety. Everyone grab on. I can only send you as far as the site of the next time barrier, but as soon as I fix things here, I’ll come and get you. Or”—he seemed to very carefully avoid looking directly at anyone—”somebody will.”
None of the kids made the slightest move toward JB’s Elucidator.
“But this is our time period,” Andrea said stubbornly. “You need us to fix it. And to take care of my grandfather.”
“And Katherine and me, we came to help Andrea,” Jonah said, just as stubbornly. “We aren’t finished yet!”
“I was pretty sure you’d feel that way,” JB muttered. “Fortunately, I don’t need your cooperation.”
He hit something on the Elucidator. Jonah caught one last glimpse of JB standing on sand, with Dare huddled against his leg.
And then everything went black.
Jonah could feel the time speeding past him: seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years. . . . He was aware of the time passing before he could draw in a single breath, before he could open his mouth to complain, “No, wait, JB, don’t send us away. . . .”
He could hear the other kids protesting too.
“No!”
“Stop!”
“Don’t!”
“Please!”
Jonah blinked. They weren’t actually in total darkness: A dim light glowed off to his left. It was just bright enough that he could make out shadowed figures nearby—four of them.
So just us kids, Jonah thought. Not JB. Not Dare. JB and the dog stayed behind.
Jonah and the other kids were all zooming forward in time together, in a loose circle around the light.
The light must be coming from the Elucidator.
Jonah reached toward it.
“JB, I’m going to reprogram the Elucidator,” he threatened. “If you don’t tell me the right code, I’ll just hit numbers at random, and who knows where we’ll end up!”
“I thought you might try that.” JB’s voice came from the Elucidator. “So I locked out any changes.”
“Why?” Jonah asked. “You probably just ruined time, sending us away!”
“But I’m keeping you safe,” JB said.
Jonah remembered way back at the beginning, when he’d wondered what JB would do if he had to make a choice between saving kids and saving history. This was his answer.
Who would have thought that Jonah would disagree?
“It gets harder and harder to care only about abstract issues like history when you get to know the people involved,” JB continued.
“Right, and this is about my grandfather, too,” Andrea yelled. “Please . . .”
“Don’t worry, Andrea,” another voice said.
This voice also had the tinny, slightly distorted sound of an Elucidator transmission, but it wasn’t JB speaking.
“Second?” Andrea whispered.
It was Second’s voice. Jonah saw Andrea looking down; he saw the surprise register on her face as she realized that she was still holding Second’s Elucidator.
“I planned for this, too,” Second continued. “This is a pre-recorded message, set to be triggered if you were sent forward in time. I knew what JB would do. If you hold on to your friends’ hands and press the glowing button, you can all go back to 1600.”
“Yes!” Andrea cheered.