Passage against the current of flesh became first difficult, and then impossible. They were swept backward, helpless as corks in a rain-swollen river. Outward they were forced and through the exit into the street.
The "police" were waiting there.
At the sight of Ellie and Nadine–they could not have been difficult to discern among the uniform drabness of the others–two of the armored figures stepped forward with long poles and brought them down on the women.
Ellie raised her arm to block the pole, and it landed solidly on her wrist.
Horrid, searing pain shot through her, greater than anything she had ever experienced before. For a giddy instant, Ellie felt a strange elevated sense of being, and she thought, If I can put up with this, I can endure anything. Then the world went away.
Ellie came to in a jail cell.
At least, that’s what she thought it was. The room was small, square, and doorless. A featureless ceiling gave off a drab, even light. A bench ran around the perimeter, and there was a hole in the middle of the room whose stench advertised its purpose.
She sat up.
On the bench across from her, Nadine was weeping silently into her hands.
So her brave little adventure had ended. She had rebelled against Mr. Tarblecko’s tyranny and come to the same end that awaited most rebels. It was her own foolish fault. She had acted without sufficient forethought, without adequate planning, without scouting out the opposition and gathering information first. She had gone up against a Power that could range effortlessly across time and space, armed only with a pocket handkerchief and a spare set of glasses, and inevitably that Power had swatted her down with a contemptuous minimum of their awesome force.
They hadn’t even bothered to take away her purse.
Ellie dug through it, found a cellophane-wrapped hard candy, and popped it into her mouth. She sucked on it joylessly. All hope whatsoever was gone from her.
Still, even when one has no hope, one’s obligations remain. "Are you all right, Nadine?" she forced herself to ask. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Nadine lifted her tear-stained face. "I just went through a door," she said. "That’s all. I didn’t do anything bad or wrong or ... or anything. And now I’m here!" Fury blazed up in her. "Damn you, damn you, damn you!"
"Me?" Ellie said, astonished.
"You! You shouldn’t have let them get us. You should’ve taken us to some hiding place, and then gotten us back home. But you didn’t. You’re a stupid, useless old woman!"
It was all Ellie could do to keep from smacking the young lady. But Nadine was practically a child, she told herself, and it didn’t seem as if they raised girls to have much gumption in the year 2004. They were probably weak and spoiled people, up there in the twenty-first century, who had robots to do all their work for them, and nothing to do but sit around and listen to the radio all day. So she held not only her hand, but her tongue. "Don’t worry, dear," she said soothingly.
"We’ll get out of this. Somehow."
Nadine stared at her bleakly, disbelievingly. "How?" she demanded.
But to this Ellie had no answer.
Time passed. Hours, by Ellie’s estimation, and perhaps many hours. And with its passage, she found herself, more out of boredom than from the belief that it would be of any use whatsoever, looking at the situation analytically again.
How had the Aftermen tracked her down?
Some sort of device on the time-door might perhaps warn them that an unauthorized person had passed through. But the "police" had located her so swiftly and surely! They had clearly known exactly where she was. Their machine had come straight toward the building they’d entered. The floods of non-men had flushed her right out into their arms.
So it was something about her, or on her, that had brought the Aftermen so quickly.
Ellie looked at her purse with new suspicion. She dumped its contents on the ledge beside her, and pawed through them, looking for the guilty culprit. A few hard candies, a lace hankie, half a pack of cigarettes, fountain pen, glasses case, bottle of aspirin, house key ... and the key to the time closet. The only thing in all she owned that had come to her direct from Mr. Tarblecko. She snatched it up.
It looked ordinary enough. Ellie rubbed it, sniffed it, touched it gently to her tongue.
It tasted sour.
Sour, the way a small battery tasted if you touched your tongue to it. There was a faint trickle of electricity coming from the thing. It was clearly no ordinary key.
She pushed her glasses up on her forehead, held the thing to her eye, and squinted. It looked exactly like a common everyday key. Almost. It had no manufacturer’s name on it, and that was unexpected, given that the key looked new and unworn. The top part of it was covered with irregular geometric decorations.
Or were they decorations?
She looked up to see Nadine studying her steadily, unblinkingly, like a cat. "Nadine, honey, your eyes are younger than mine–would you take a look at this? Are those tiny ... switches on this thing?"
"What?" Nadine accepted the key from her, examined it, poked at it with one nail.
Flash.
When Ellie stopped blinking and could see again, one wall of their cell had disappeared.
Nadine stepped to the very edge of the cell, peering outward. A cold wind whipped bitter flakes of snow about her. "Look!" she cried. Then, when Ellie stood beside her to see what she saw, Nadine wrapped her arms about the older woman and stepped out into the abyss.
Ellie screamed.
The two women piloted the police vehicle up Broadway, toward Times Square. Though a multiplicity of instruments surrounded the windshield, the controls were simplicity itself: a single stick that, when pushed forward, accelerated the vehicle, and, when pushed to either side, turned it.
Apparently, the police did not need to be particularly smart. Neither the steering mechanism nor the doors had any locks on them, so far as Ellie could tell. Apparently, the drone-men had so little initiative that locks weren’t required. Which would help explain how she and Nadine had escaped so easily.
"How did you know this vehicle was beneath us?" Ellie asked. "How did you know we’d be able to drive it? I almost had a heart attack when you pushed me out on top of it."
"Way rad, wasn’t it? Straight out of a Hong Kong video." Nadine grinned. "Just call me Michelle Yeoh."
"If you say so." She was beginning to rethink her hasty judgment of the lass. Apparently the people of 2004 weren’t quite the shrinking violets she’d made them out to be.
With a flicker and a hum, a square sheet of glass below the windshield came to life. Little white dots of light danced, jittered, and coalesced to form a face.
It was Mr. Tarblecko.
"Time criminals of the Dawn Era," his voice thundered from a hidden speaker. "Listen and obey."
Ellie shrieked, and threw her purse over the visi-plate. "Don’t listen to him!" she ordered Nadine. "See if you can find a way of turning this thing off !"
"Bring the stolen vehicle to a complete halt immediately!"
To her horror, if not her surprise, Ellie found herself pulling the steering-bar back, slowing the police car to a stop. But then Nadine, in blind obedience to Mr. Tarblecko’s compulsive voice, grabbed for the bar as well. Simultaneously, she stumbled, and, with a little eep noise, lurched against the bar, pushing it sideways.
The vehicle slewed to one side, smashed into a building wall, and toppled over.
Then Nadine had the roof-hatch open and was pulling her through it. "C’mon!" she shouted. "I can see the black doorway-thingie–the, you know, place!"
Following, Ellie had to wonder about the educational standards of the year 2004. The young lady didn’t seem to have a very firm grasp on the English language.
Then they had reached Times Square and the circle of doorways at its center. The street lights were flashing and loudspeakers were shouting "Akbang! Akbang!" and police vehicles were converging upon them from every direction, but there was still time. Ellie tapped the nearest doorway with her key. Nothing. The next. Nothing. Then she was running around the building, scraping the key against each doorway, and ... there it was!