Revealed (20 page)

At least thirteen years ago was recent enough that some of the trash cans were paper-only recycling, so Jonah didn't have to paw through ketchup-covered food wrappers. He found a mostly empty sheet of paper where someone had printed out an e-mail that just said,
Okay, that's fine
. He ripped off the top part of the page, and asked an older woman wearing a Christmas sweater if he could borrow a pen.

“Do you want me to hold your baby for you while you write?” the woman asked.

“No, that's okay,” Jonah said quickly.

She was probably just being nice, but how could Jonah be sure?

It was hard to hold Katherine and the Elucidator in one hand and brace the paper against the side of the trash can while he wrote.

And I need to make sure that I don't make any mistakes in what I write. . . .

The Elucidator countdown said 13 now. Jonah pressed the pen against the paper and began:

Dear Angela,

You don't know me yet, and I can't explain much because that could mess up everything.

Was even telling her that much enough to mess up everything? Jonah reminded himself he didn't have time for second-guessing. He kept writing.

You're going to see some strange stuff tonight that you won't understand for a long time. But I promise you, you will eventually. When you do, it's very important that you carry your own Elucidator the morning of

Jonah had to think very hard to remember the date of the morning that Charles Lindbergh had kidnapped
Katherine; and Angela, JB, Mom, and Dad had all turned into thirteen-year-olds. But he wrote it down. And then he finished up:

Don't tell me or JB anything about your Elucidator that morning. Just have it with you. Also, when you see me again, don't say anything about getting this letter. But then, when you go back to 1932, meet me at the airfield where Charles Lindbergh flies on the afternoon of August 15. Hide out of sight until you see me run out of the office. And then, as soon as you can get me away from Gary and Hodge, we can go rescue JB.

He signed it
Sincerely, Jonah Skidmore
, and went back and reread the whole thing.

It sounded crazy.

Angela would just throw it away. Or maybe she'd turn it over to the FBI when they showed up later tonight, and that would make a whole lot of problems for Jonah's parents.

Jonah ripped off the bottom part of the letter, where he'd written his name. Then he ripped that part into shreds and tossed it back into the recycling.

“Changing your mind about whether you're in love
with some girl or not?” the Christmas-sweater woman asked with way too much interest.

“No, just made a mistake,” Jonah said, trying not to sound as panicked as he felt.

“Unnhh,” baby Katherine groaned, waving her arms at the Elucidator.

It said Jonah had eight minutes left.

Jonah folded the letter in half and tucked in the ends. Normal-age Katherine would definitely have been useful now—wasn't she always writing secret notes to her friends back when she was in elementary school? And then folding them perfectly? Jonah wished he had tape or an official-looking envelope or
something
that didn't look like it'd been chewed by a dog or a baby. But this was the best he could do. He wrote on the outside of the tucked-together letter:
Do not open for another twelve years and eleven months
.

“Thanks a lot,” he said, handing the woman back her pen.

“No problem,” the woman said.

Jonah could feel her watching him as he walked toward gate 3, where Angela was standing. But it couldn't be helped. He didn't have time to distract her by walking in the opposite direction and then coming back when she'd stopped watching. He didn't have time to review his plans. He didn't have time to think. He barely had time to speak to Angela.

Just as Jonah approached her desk, a large man elbowed his way in front of Jonah.

“Where's the New York flight?” the man screamed at Angela. “Which gate?”

“Umm . . . ,” Angela said uncertainly. She peered helplessly down at her computer. “Give me a minute to check. . . .”

She seemed paralyzed just trying to figure out what to type into the computer to find out.

“
I'll
help you,” the woman beside Angela told the man, even as she glared at Angela. Jonah was glad for Angela's sake that she had her head bent down and didn't catch the full force of the glare.

Who says looks can't kill?
Jonah thought.

He hitched baby Katherine a little higher up, so she wouldn't be in danger of sliding out of his grasp if she squirmed a little.

Angela wasn't bobbing her head back up to look toward Jonah. Maybe she had caught more of the other woman's glare than Jonah had thought.

“Hi,” Jonah said, trying to sound friendly and cheerful and like someone Angela should be happy to see.

Angela looked up and seemed to be trying very hard to smile and look professional.

“Yes?” she said fearfully.

Jonah could see how the corners of her smile trembled.

“I just had something to give you,” Jonah said, sliding the folded-up letter across the desk. “It's for later. Nothing you have to worry about now.”

Angela glanced nervously toward the other woman, who was still talking to the New York man.

“Okay,” Angela said hesitantly. “Thanks.”

She made no move to pick up Jonah's letter. Did she think she would have to ask the other woman what to do with bizarre letters she received from bizarrely dressed kids holding bizarrely dressed babies?

“Put it someplace safe—your pocket or your purse or someplace like that,” Jonah said. “It's really important. Don't forget.”

“All right,” Angela said, and at least she did move the letter off the ledge and down closer to her computer.

“You'll understand all this later on,” Jonah said, and something changed in Angela's smile: It started looking more suspicious. More like what Jonah had seen on Angela's face the first time he'd met her.

Oh, no
, Jonah thought.
I'm making it sound like the letter's a bomb threat and I'm a terrorist or something like that.

“That's all,” Jonah said, doing his best to sound like a good kid. Or maybe a stupid one—maybe it would help if he didn't sound bright enough to build a bomb? “Well, me
and my sister, we have a plane to catch now. Bye!”

And then it was the hardest thing in the world to make himself walk away from Angela without another word.

But surely that was what he had to do to make everything else work right?

Jonah glanced back over his shoulder once to make sure Angela wasn't picking up the phone to call security. Fortunately for him—but not her—she was already distracted: The other woman seemed to be screaming at her for not helping the New York man the instant he asked.

Jonah wanted to go back and defend Angela. He wanted to go back and double-check:
Do you understand that this letter is important—but not dangerous? Do you promise that you won't read it for another twelve years and eleven months?
He wanted lots of things. But if he was going to get safely away before the time-crashed plane arrived—with the baby version of himself on board, ruining time—he needed to zoom back to 1932, where, hopefully, Angela would be waiting with a better Elucidator that could save them both.

It didn't seem like a very good idea to just disappear from the middle of the airport, right in front of dozens of people.

Hiding in a stall in the bathroom might work, but it looked like the nearest bathroom was several gates away, and it might be just as crowded as the hallway.

Jonah was glad that he'd thought to prop the door open back out to the stairwell at gate 2B.

“I'm going to tell you about this when you're eleven again,” he muttered to the baby version of Katherine. “And you're really going to be impressed.”

Jonah tried to look like he was sauntering casually through the crowd over to the door beside the deserted gate 2B. First he leaned on the wall by the door, glancing back to make sure that Angela wasn't watching him.

No, she was still being yelled at.

There weren't any security guards in sight, and none of the passengers flocking through the hall seemed to be looking in Jonah's direction.

Jonah jerked open the door to the stairwell and slipped through. After the bright lights of the main part of the terminal, his eyes didn't have time to adjust—as far as he could tell, he was just stepping into darkness.

The door eased shut behind him. Jonah took one step to the side, thinking that it'd be good to be out of the way if anyone followed him through the door.

Not that it matters, since I'm just going back to 1932, where, if I'm lucky, kid Angela will be waiting with an Elucidator
, he thought.
A real, full-strength Elucidator, not one that only gives me three choices of places to go.

The limited Elucidator in his hand said he still had five
minutes left on the countdown. Should he risk taking at least a few of those minutes to plan what he should do in 1932?

Jonah wavered on what to do. And then that didn't matter either. Before Jonah even finished his step to the side, two pairs of hands grabbed him and Katherine.

“Right on time,” a voice growled in Jonah's ear.

Hodge
, Jonah thought, trying to squirm away.
And . . .

Jonah felt baby Katherine and the Elucidator being ripped from his hands by an overwhelming force. There was no way for Jonah to fight against it.

So Gary's here too
, Jonah thought.

“Take me back to 1932!” Jonah screamed, just in case he could still manage to get a voice command to the Elucidator. “Or to my own time! I mean, thirteen years from now! And—bring Katherine, too!”

Hodge laughed.

“A little confused, are we, about where you want to go?” he taunted. “And about what your own time is?”

“The Elucidator should have known what I meant,” Jonah muttered.

His eyes were starting to adjust. He could tell that Gary was putting baby Katherine down on the floor. She immediately began to cry.

“Hey!” Jonah complained. “Be careful with my sister! That floor's dirty! Pick her up again—or let me hold her!”

Gary snorted.

“She's not your problem anymore,” he said, leaning over the baby. Was he putting something in her mouth? Katherine instantly stopped crying.

“What'd you do to her? You didn't hurt her, did you?” Jonah asked, squirming frantically.

Hodge tightened his grip on Jonah and slid his hand over Jonah's mouth.

“It was just a sedative,” he muttered. “Easiest way to travel with babies. If you don't calm down, we'll have to knock you out too.”

“Yeah,” Gary echoed, twisting Jonah's arm behind his back.

In a practiced move so smooth Jonah almost missed it, the two men had switched off, so now it was just Gary holding on to Jonah, Gary whose hand covered Jonah's mouth.

Should I try to scream anyway?
Jonah wondered.

As if he knew exactly what Jonah was thinking, Gary held up a hypodermic needle.

“You make a sound louder than a whisper, this is going into your arm,” he hissed in Jonah's ear.

“It's from the future,” Hodge added threateningly. “Sedatives in the future work instantly. That is if it's really a sedative, and not something worse.”

Jonah flinched, and evidently that was enough to make Gary and Hodge think he believed them. Gary's grip on Jonah's face eased up a little, going from a “could cause permanent disfigurement” level down to merely “very painful.” Hodge backed away ever so slightly.

They wouldn't really hurt me
, Jonah told himself.
I'm still valuable to them. Because I'm Charles Lindbergh's son.

But he decided it wouldn't be such a bad thing to pretend he was too terrified to scream or struggle anymore. At least until he figured out what they were planning to do.

“Three minutes,” Hodge said, stepping over Katherine so he could peer out a window toward the runway.

“You mean until the plane full of babies gets here?” Jonah asked, though it was a challenge trying to talk with Gary's massive hand clenched over the bottom part of his face. “Shouldn't we leave now so none of us are, um, duplicated in time? So all three of us don't ruin time just by standing here?”

Jonah really didn't want to go anywhere with Gary and
Hodge. But he couldn't help remembering how messed up 1611 had been when his other enemy, Second Chance, had forced there to be multiple copies of people in the same time period.

Hodge laughed.

“You thought Gary and I were on that plane during the crash landing?” he sneered. “Don't you think we have more of a sense of self-preservation than that?”

Jonah squinted uncomprehendingly at him.

“Oh man, we
bailed
,” Gary said, digging his elbow into Jonah's side in a way that might have been intended as friendly. “We had fifty time agents chasing us, they had their sights trained on the plane—that's what time parachutes are made for!”

Jonah had always assumed that Gary and Hodge had sneaked away only
after
the plane was on the ground. Had anybody ever told him that? Or had he just thought it because he couldn't imagine Gary and Hodge abandoning the thirty-six babies in midair? He knew Gary and Hodge weren't exactly nice people, but . . . how could anybody do that?

“So you were just going to let me and the other thirty-five babies die?” Jonah asked. He forgot that he was trying to sound terrified, but it didn't matter. His voice couldn't have been shakier.

“Oh, we were sure the autopilot would land
somewhere
safely,” Hodge said.