The Never War (3 page)

“Y
ou're lucky,” Mr. Nasty Gangster chuckled. “It'll be quick. You won't feel a thing.”

“How would
you
know?” asked Spader nervously.

The two gangsters held their machine guns on us, keeping us from moving off the subway track. To our right, a subway train was barreling along, headed our way.

This was not a happy homecoming.

“Trust me,” the gangster answered. “There won't be enough of you left to feel nothin'.”

How's
that
for a grim thought?

“We were just supposed to scare 'em,” the nervous gangster said. “Not splatter 'em.” The guy looked like he was having second thoughts. I liked this guy. At least I liked him better than the guy who wanted us dead.

“They'll be scared all right,” the nasty gangster chuckled. “Just before they catch the train.”

Or the train catches us.

“But—” the nervous guy protested.

“Hey, we're on our own now,” Nasty shot back. “I'm calling the plays.”

The track beneath our feet was now shaking from the imminent arrival of the death train. The headlight was shining on us. The horn shrieked. The trainman must have seen us, but it was too late to stop. The express was coming through whether we were on the track or not.

Believe it or not, in spite of what Mr. Nasty thought, I wasn't scared. That's because I knew how we were going to escape. It was going to be pretty simple. The tricky part would be timing.

“I think we should move, mate,” Spader whispered to me. “This could be a messy-do.”

“Wait,” I said.

“Bye-bye, boys!” shouted the gangster over the screaming horn.

The train was nearly on us.

“Uh, Pendragon?” Spader whined.

“Now!” I shouted.

I grabbed Spader's arm and we both jumped back, off the track. Instantly the train flashed by in front of us. What did those two idiot gangsters think? We were going to stand there and get slammed?

“Run!” I yelled.

The speeding train was now between us and the gangsters. We had a short window of protection. Using the train as a shield, Spader followed me toward the abandoned subway station. With any luck, the train would have enough cars to give us time to get there. It was about forty yards from the gate to the old platform. Not a long run, but it was tricky because we had to do it on another track that ran parallel to the one the train was on. One misstep and we'd go down with twisted ankles.

I shot a quick glance back over my shoulder to see how
long the train was. Luckily there was still a bunch of cars to come. Our luck was holding. I figured we'd hit the station right about the time the train passed us. Then we could jump up on the platform and book out of there. I took another glance back and saw that the last car was almost on us.

“Stay with me!” I shouted back to Spader.

A second later the train whipped by us. I put on the brakes, ready to leap across the track and climb up onto the platform of the abandoned station. But what I saw in the next instant jolted me to a standstill. The two of us stood across from the abandoned station platform to see…

It wasn't abandoned anymore!

I couldn't believe it. Everything up until now was exactly as I remembered it: the flume, the gate, the tracks, even the location of the platform. Everything was the same, except for the station. The place was lit up and busy with people. The token booth was open and selling fares to passengers flooding down the stairs; the grimy, broken tiles on the walls looked new and clean; and there was a busy newsstand selling papers to eager customers. How could this be?

“Now's not the time to stop, mate,” warned Spader.

He was right. We leaped over the track and hoisted ourselves up onto the platform. People stared at us in shock. I guess they weren't used to seeing people scramble across active tracks, especially not when a train had just blasted through. Spader stood up, winked at an older woman who was watching us, and said with a charming smile, “No worries, mum. Routine inspection. Everything checks out spiff.” The woman stared back in total confusion.

An idea hit me and I pushed my way through the passengers toward the newsstand. There was a stack of newspapers right in front. If I was right, the paper would tell me every
thing I needed to know. I picked it up, stared at the front page, and my whole body went numb.

“What's the trouble?” Spader asked as he came up behind me.

“It's 1937,” I said, barely believing my own words. “First Earth is in 1937.”

“Right,” he said, trying to understand. “What does that mean?”

“It means this is my home territory, but in a time more than half a century before I was born.”

The date on the newspaper was March 10, 1937. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, but there it was in good old black and white.

“You gonna buy that paper, mac?” growled the news vendor. “This ain't a lendin' library.”

The guy was a pudgy, gruff-looking munchkin who hadn't shaved in a few days. He wore a wool cap with a visor and chewed on a stubby cigar that looked like a rotten stick. It didn't smell much better than it looked. I slowly put the paper down and took a look around the station. Now it made sense. The station was open because it wasn't abandoned
yet.

I now registered what the people were wearing. It looked like an old-time movie with men wearing suits and hats and women all wearing dresses. I didn't see a pair of jeans or sneakers in the place.

We really were in the past.

“Howdy, Buck Rogers!” came a voice from behind us. “Bring any spare change from outer space?”

We both turned to see a tall, gray-haired African American man in a long, woolen coat walking toward us. Buck Rogers? Oh, right. Spader and I were still wearing the swim clothes from Cloral. We must have stuck out like orange on black.

“Sorry,” I answered the man. “I'll catch you next time.”

“That's all right,” he said with a chuckle. “Give my regards to Ming the Merciless.”

Suddenly the sound of machine-gun fire shattered the station.

There were screams of panic as everybody ducked down. I couldn't believe it. Were the gangsters shooting up the place? Spader and I ducked down and looked to the far side of the platform where the shooting came from. Standing there were the two gunmen, still wearing white handkerchiefs over their faces. The nasty guy in charge had fired his machine gun into the ceiling. The weapon was still smoking.

“Everybody freeze!” he shouted. “We're lookin' for a couple of wise guys dressed like spacemen.”

That was us. There was no way we could blend into this crowd. I looked around, hoping a cop was on duty. If there was, he was just as scared of these nimrods as everybody else, because he wasn't stepping forward. We were on our own.

The gangsters started walking slowly through the station, scanning the crowd. People were crouched down all around us, afraid to move. I caught the eye of a woman who looked at us with fear. She knew we were the guys they were looking for. But she didn't say anything. Maybe she was afraid of getting caught in the crossfire. Spader and I glanced around, desperate to find an escape route.

“Here! Over here!” somebody yelled. It was the news vendor guy. I looked up and was shocked to see he was leaning out of his newsstand, pointing us out to the gangsters. Nice guy.

Spader and I had no choice but to stand up. Everybody else stayed on the ground. If the gangsters wanted to open fire, they'd have a clear shot at us. I think the term was “sitting
ducks.” Or maybe it was more like “standing ducks.”

The gangsters turned to us and raised their machine guns.

“What is all the ruckus here?”

It was the African American guy who had called me Buck Rogers. He stepped between Spader and me and put his arms around our shoulders. “You think shootin' up these spacemen will get rid of 'em?” he declared. “No sir-ee! I seen this in the movin' pictures! You shoot 'em up and they'll just start duplicatin'! That what you want? Bunch of little blue spacemen running around?”

“Get outta the way, old man,” snarled the nasty gangster. “Unless you want to blast off with 'em.”

“Now there's an idea!” said the man.

Just then, another subway train entered the station. But rather than speed through, this one slowed down to a stop.

“I always wanted to see what was goin' on up there in outer space!” the old guy cackled. “Maybe now's my big chance!”

The head gangster smiled and brought his machine gun up higher, ready to fire. The second gangster kept glancing nervously between us and his partner. “Suit yourself, old man,” said the nasty gangster.

“Oh, I don't think you want to go doin' that,” said the old man with such certainty that it actually made the nasty gangster hesitate.

“Look around,” he continued. “All these fine people are watching.”

The nervous gangster was already looking at all the people whose eyes were fixed on them. Now the nasty gangster took a quick look too. He was having second thoughts.

The subway train came to a stop, the doors opened, and people flooded out onto the platform. A few saw what was
going on and quickly jumped out of the way. Others ducked back inside the subway car. The old guy kept his hands on our shoulders and led us over toward the train. As we walked, he kept talking.

“Every one of these good people are witnesses. This isn't some lonely back alley. You can't hide in the shadows. Your dirty work is on display for everybody to see, and remember.”

The old guy definitely had the gangsters thinking. Now even the nasty guy looked unsteady. In the meantime, we were moving closer to the open subway door. All I could do was hope it wouldn't close before we got there.

“I believe you two are smart gentlemen,” our friend continued. “You understand what I'm telling you.”

I didn't think the gangsters understood anything. I thought the old gent was confusing them. But that was okay. If it gave us time to escape, I didn't care what was going through the minds of these bad guys. The old man turned us around so we were still facing the gangsters. Our backs were now to the open subway door. He kept us moving though. He gently pulled us backward and onto the subway train. A few seconds later the three of us stood inside the car. Now I prayed for the doors to shut.

“I am so proud of you gentlemen,” said the old man to the gangsters with a smile. “You are two upstanding individuals.”

Everyone waited for something to happen. The gangsters stood with their mouths open. Every single person in the station was afraid to move. Spader, the old guy, and I stood just inside the open subway door.

Time stood still.

Then a bell rang on the subway train and the doors started to close. That woke the gangsters up. They both jumped for the train. They were a ways behind us, so they leaped onto the train
through the set of doors farther back on our car. At that instant, the old man shoved Spader and me forward. We all jumped off the train and back onto the platform at the exact moment the doors closed behind us…with the gangsters trapped on board!

A second later the train began to pull out of the station. The three of us watched as the subway car slid past, along with the two gangsters. The nasty gangster grabbed at the door, angrily trying to pull it open. But it was too late. Next stop for them…someplace else. The old guy smiled and gave him a wave as they disappeared into the tunnel ahead. All around us, people started to move again. They all seemed a little shocked, but none more than Spader and I.

“That was incredible!” Spader shouted. “You had them stupefied.”

“You saved our lives,” I said. “I don't know how to thank you.”

The friendly smile dropped off the old man's face. In an instant he went from a warm, charming grandpa to a serious man on a mission.

“Follow me,” he said sternly, and walked off.

Spader and I didn't move. “Should we?” Spader asked me.

A second later people started to gather around us. They were moving in like we were two escaped animals from the zoo. We had caused a pretty big disturbance, and they wanted to know why. This was not a good place to be.

“Absolutely,” I answered, and ran to follow the old man.

The guy may have been old, but he was quick. He was already halfway up the stairs to the street. Spader and I barreled through the turnstile and ran after him. I was in such a hurry to catch up that I didn't stop to think about what we would see outside. But when we got to the top of the stairs, reality hit me square in the face.

We had arrived in a different time.

This was the same section of the Bronx where Uncle Press first brought me to begin this adventure…over sixty years from now. But as much as it was sort of familiar, it was also way different. I recognized many of the buildings. Even in my time there were no modern steel-and-glass structures in this neighborhood, so a lot of these same buildings would be around sixty years from now. The only real difference was that in 1937, they looked clean and new.

The big, obvious difference that jumped out at me was the cars. They were all so old. But they
weren't
old. Here in 1937 they were the latest models. Very strange. Traffic was just as hectic here as in my time, and the street was jammed with ancient vehicles. There was an odd smell, too. It was kind of like chemicals. It took me a while to realize that this was long before people worried about clean air and car emissions and unleaded gasoline and all those things that are supposed to keep pollution down. These cars were all spewing old-fashioned, full-leaded, full-stink emissions. It reeked.

Another thing that caught my eye was the billboards. They were everywhere, advertising things I never heard of. There was one showing a lady with a big smile who brightened her teeth not with toothpaste, but with tooth powder. Another had a guy looking all sorts of happy because he gassed up his car with “Esso” gasoline. Still another showed a group of quintuplets, all girls, who were advertising a soap made with olive oil. Gross. Wasn't that like washing with spaghetti sauce? I knew this was Earth, but it sure felt like a different planet.