Trolley to Yesterday (13 page)

Johnny had to swallow several times before he could talk. "I... I guess so," he said in a weak, throaty voice. "But I'm really scared, and I wish we were back home!"

"You and me both!" said Fergie firmly. "But don't worry—the prof and Brewster'll get us out okay. Let's go, before they get too far ahead of us."

Johnny pulled himself together and forced his arms and legs to move. He was scrambling forward again. But he hadn't gone very far when he heard the professor call out.

"Halt, everybody! We've got a problem! Low bridge ahead!"

Fergie and Johnny stopped crawling. Brewster's light was faint, but it was bright enough for Fergie to see what was wrong. Not far ahead a huge stone block had sunk down into the roof of the water pipe. The space that was left was just barely large enough for them to crawl through. Fergie felt a tightness in his throat. He had wriggled through a space like that once when he was cave exploring with some other boys. He hadn't enjoyed the experience much, but at least he had made it. But what would Johnny do now?

There was a long silence. Brewster's light got fainter, and then it grew again. Finally his familiar raspy voice could be heard, echoing weirdly in the tunnel.

"I have good news!" he said cheerfully. "After you crawl through the crevice you're home free! You come out onto a stone ledge above a lovely big reservoir. Hop to it, and you'll be through in no time!"

Johnny almost felt like cheering, but the sound stuck in his throat. He was much too scared to celebrate just yet. Grimly, one at a time, they began to slither through the crevice. The professor went first, and very soon he was on the other side, yelling encouragement to the boys.

"Come on, gentlemen!" he called. "You won't have any trouble at all! Wait till you see the size of this place! It's
enormous!"

Fergie knew he was next, and he quickly got down on his belly. "Just do what I do, John baby," he whispered. "We'll be through in a jiffy."

Fergie began to wriggle along under the stone block like a snake. But when he was halfway through, Brewster called out in alarm. His voice sounded squeaky and thin.

"I'm sorry"
he said,
"but I have to leave! I have been called back by the great god Thoth, and so
—" He never finished the sentence, and his voice faded to a far-off
Good-byyyyye...
that got fainter and fainter till it stopped. Brewster was gone, and they were in the dark.

"Drat!"
roared the professor. "Hang on, everybody and I'll have a light for you presently." After a pause that seemed to last forever, the boys heard a
whcchh!
sound. And there at the far end of the crevice Fergie saw the professor, holding his Nimrod pipe lighter in his hand. "Hi there!" said the professor, grinning lopsidedly. "I'm Brewster's summer replacement. Not quite as old, perhaps, but twice as charming."

Eagerly Fergie scooted forward, and soon he was dropping down onto the stone ledge. Now it was Johnny's turn. Gasping and panting he struggled forward, while the professor held the lighter up to the mouth of the crevice and said encouraging things in a gentle, soothing voice. Johnny was in a terrible state. He kept imagining that the heavy stone block was coming down to crush him. Over and over he whispered every prayer he could think of. Finally, a few feet from the opening, he simply stopped.

"I... I can't go on," he said in a whimpering voice. "I... I have to go back, I really do."

"Nonsense!" snapped the professor. "You will do nothing of the kind! Give me your hand.
Do you hear me?"
The professor had stopped his mild-mannered coaxing, because he knew that it wasn't working, and became harsh and commanding, which was something he was better at. Johnny was startled; he jumped a bit and banged his head on the low stone roof of the crevice. But then he thrashed frantically forward and the professor grabbed his hand. The old man tugged mightily on Johnny's arm, and he managed to haul him through. When Johnny was safe, the professor sobbed and muttered incoherently as he hugged Johnny and said that he was sorry for being so nasty.

"It... it's all right, professor," said Johnny. "I... I know that you had to do it." Johnny was feeling pretty weepy himself, and he would have cried if Fergie hadn't been there. He hated to cry in front of Fergie, who was usually so controlled.

"Well!
" said the professor as he let go of Johnny and turned around. "We are out of one mess, but we may be in another. Isn't this something?"

The steady flame of the Nimrod lighter illuminated a strange underground world. Beyond the narrow stone ledge stretched a huge water tank with a vaulted stone roof. Stone pillars supported the arches of the ceiling, and the black surface of the water glimmered faintly. How deep was the tank? How big was it? There was no way of telling.

As Johnny and Fergie stood staring in wonder, the professor walked quickly away and stooped. He picked up a piece of wood with a pitch-soaked rag wrapped around one end, and he lit it. "This lighter burns fuel like crazy," he said as he snapped the cylinder shut "People must come down here occasionally. That's encouraging, I must say. Over there, if my eyes don't deceive me, is a boat. Come along, gentlemen—time's a-wasting!"

Johnny and Fergie turned to look where the professor was pointing. Sure enough, farther down the curving ledge, a rowboat lay on its side. Two oars were propped against it.

"I imagine that the Emperor's inspectors come down here now and then to check the water supply," said the professor as he bent over to examine the boat. "Hmm... it seems to be in pretty decent shape. The torch's flame is flickering a bit. There must be a draft blowing from somewhere across the water. There has to be a way out, and by the holy eternal powers, we are going to find it!"

The boys did not need much encouragement. They helped the professor heave the boat over onto its bottom. They threw the valise and sword into the stern, and then they carefully slid the boat down off the stone ledge into the water. While the professor and Fergie clung to the boat's prow to keep it from drifting away, Johnny jumped in. The boat rocked, but he settled himself quickly in the stern seat. By that time the other two were in the boat, and the professor was using one of the oars to shove them away from the ledge. Fergie sat in front and held the torch, which cast weird shimmering lights on the water.

"I have read about these reservoirs, but I never expected to see one," muttered the professor as he fitted the oars into the locks. "We will row in the direction of the draft and see what happens. In spite of Brewster's disappearance, I think we are going to be all right."

Bending his back the professor started to row. He hummed as he pulled at the oars, because rowing was a cheerful activity for him, and he remembered the time he had spent in a three-man scull at Princeton University. He maneuvered the boat in and out among the pillars. Black vastness hung all around them, and now and then a bat would flutter by. For a long while no one spoke. Johnny trailed his fingers in the water and watched the braided wake behind the boat. He felt gloomy, and he missed Brewster a lot.

"What do you think happened to Brewster?" he asked suddenly. His voice echoed strangely in this vast place, and the sound startled him.

"I wish I knew," muttered the professor. "He said something about being summoned by the god Thoth. Thoth is the Egyptian god of magic, and so I suppose he has power over a creature like Brewster. Maybe he will be back soon. But with him or without him we are going to get home safely—don't worry about that."

Johnny screwed his mouth into a tight frown. It was all very well for the professor to say "don't worry," but Johnny knew they were in a jam. They had to get back to Leander's Tower, but they seemed to be getting farther and farther away from the tower with every step that they took. And even if they arrived back there, they couldn't be sure that the Time Trolley would be waiting for them. Maybe it would take off by itself, the way it had when Mr. Townsend was running it. The three of them would be stuck forever in the year 1453, and they would probably end up as slaves when the Sultan's troops took the city of Constantinople. It was not a pleasant thing to think about.

The professor rowed, and the little boat nosed in and out past the tall, gloomy pillars. The torch that Fergie held went on flickering, and they steered in the direction of the draft. Soon the professor's cheerful humming died, and every now and then he put down the oars and held a wet finger up in the air to see if he could tell where the draft was coming from. Then he would pick up the oars and row grimly on. Johnny noticed that Fergie's torch was burning straight up—it wasn't wavering at all.

"Professor?" he asked in a tiny faltering voice. "How... how come the draft isn't blowing anymore?"

"I don't know," muttered the professor through clenched teeth. "There is something very odd going on in this place, but I don't know what ..."

The professor's voice died. Out of the darkness straight ahead of them, a boat was drifting. It looked just like the one they were in, but it was empty. Or was it? The boat moved closer, and now it was alongside them. Johnny, Fergie, and the professor looked. There were three bodies lying slumped in the other boat. The bodies looked like the three of them, pale and cold and dead.

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

 

Fergie let out a loud yell, and he almost dropped his torch. Johnny closed his eyes and swallowed hard, and he started saying prayers under his breath.

"Angels and ministers of grace defend us!" breathed the professor. "What sort of devil magic is this?"

"I am the Guardian of the Sunken Palace," a loud, echoing voice said. "I was set up here in the time of the great Emperor Justinian. You must answer three questions if you expect to leave this place. Otherwise you will become like those in the boat near you. Are you prepared to answer?"

The professor was stunned, but he was determined to remain calm. "What sort of creature are you?" he asked warily. "And how is it that you speak English?"

"I am a magic stone head placed here to guard this place against those who might try to poison the waters," the voice replied. "I speak all languages on earth."

"Good God,
another
magic statue!" the professor whispered under his breath. "The woods are full of them, it seems!"

"Prof, what are we gonna do?" asked Fergie. "Can't we just row on past and forget about Whatsisface up there?"

The professor shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I have read about these magic Guardians before, and they mean what they say. We won't get out of here alive if we don't answer the questions. It's too bad Brewster isn't here to help us, but I know a lot of odd facts, and so do you and so does Johnny. Maybe we'll be able to outwit this vile creature."

"Are you ready?" the voice intoned solemnly. "I wish to begin."

The professor gritted his teeth and glared into the darkness. "All right," he growled. "What is your first question?"

"Name the Seven Kings of Rome."

Johnny's heart leaped. He had learned these names in Latin class last year, and he knew them as well as he knew anything. Proudly he rattled off the list, beginning with Romulus and Numa Pompilius, and ending up with Servius Tullius and Tarquin the Proud. After he had finished silence fell. The boat floating next to them drifted away and began bumping into one of the stone pillars.

"Very good," said the voice at last. "That is one question. Now for the second. Name the Seven Hills of Rome."

The professor turned to Johnny. "Well?" he whispered. "Do you know those?"

Johnny's brain raced. He had learned the names once for a Latin test, but could he dredge them all up again? "Quirinal, Viminal, Capitoline ..." he began in a quavering voice.

"That is only three," said the voice nastily.

"Oh, give him a chance, for heaven's sake!" exclaimed the professor. "He's only just gotten started."

"Very well," said the voice. "Proceed."

Johnny glanced to his left, and to his horror he saw that the boat with the dead bodies in it was moving closer. His mind went blank. He could not have remembered his own name if someone had asked him what it was. Fergie was sitting at the other end of the boat, and he leaned forward to whisper in the professor's ear. Quickly the professor scrambled to Johnny's side.

"He says Palatine and Esquiline," the professor hissed anxiously.

"I heard that," the voice said pompously. "It does not matter who answers, so long as the reply is correct. Palatine and Esquiline are correct. That makes five. Two more are needed. Please proceed. A prompt answer would be appreciated."

The professor glared hatefully into the darkness. If this wretched stone head had a neck, he would gladly wring it. Two more... two more. Maybe he could help—after all, he had taught Roman history at one time. The professor's brain raced, and the other boat drifted closer and closer. An awful silence fell.

"Caelian and... and Aventine!" the professor screeched. "Am I right?"

"You are," the voice said in a bored tone. "And now there is but one question left. Name the present Emperor of Byzantium."

The professor grinned. This was a home-run pitch, thrown right across the middle of the plate. "Constantine XI Dragases Palaeologus," he said, rolling the name out grandly and triumphantly.

More silence. Would the stone head be satisfied? They waited tensely and tried not to look at the hideous thing that was floating on the water near them.

"You may pass," said the voice at last. "Thank you for your cooperation."

The boat that had been floating nearby vanished. Once again a cold breeze began to blow, making Fergie's torch flicker. With a deep, heartfelt sigh of relief, the professor picked up the oars and started rowing again. In silence they moved past more pillars, until at last they saw, up ahead, a broad flight of cracked marble steps that rose up out of the water. At the top of the steps a stout wooden door stood half open, and beyond it more steps could be seen. In a niche near the door stood an enormous stone head. With blank eyeballs it stared eerily out at them.