Molly Moon's Hypnotic Time Travel Adventure (19 page)

Molly had been to a bonfire night when she was seven and the scene in front of her reminded her of that, although instead of sparklers in people’s hands there were torches, and instead of fireworks, a full moon hung in the air like a ball of milk in the sky. They walked quickly through the crowds, past elephants and past one of the strange flights of stairs, to a place where they could watch the proceedings without being seen.
Standing around the crackling fire were Waqt’s cronies in their purple robes, the flames casting demonic shadows on their whiskered faces.

On the right, a more compact circle of ghostly priests stood with their arms outstretched and joined at the fingertips. The material hanging down from their flowing sleeves made a wall of purple silk. The drums beat faster and faster. As the rhythm reached a frantic pace, the circle of men dropped to the ground, revealing Waqt, his face painted white, crouching on a low, cracked rock. Beside him sat the three hypnotized young Mollys. The baby Molly lay on a blanket on the rock. Waqt raised his hands to the moon and waved his arms about like long strands of seaweed. He looked like a devil from a horror film.

Then he picked up the hypnotized six-year-old. The hidden Molly stared in revulsion, hardly daring to think what he might be about to do. The fire raged to the side of him. He stepped toward it with the six-year-old Molly in his arms. Closer and closer and closer to the fire he walked until he turned and actually
stepped backward into it.
The audience gasped. Waqt had disappeared in the flames.

Molly knew where he was and what he was doing. In the next instant she experienced the most horrific memory.

A loud voice had shouted, “WAKE UP AND REMEMBER THIS! FOLLOW ME IF YOU CAN, MOLLY MOON!” Molly realized that these words were directed at her now.

She remembered being six and suddenly waking up to find the mammoth man she’d met before holding her at arm’s length above him. His face was painted powdery white and he was laughing like a demented clown. She remembered screaming and crying, “I want to go home!” And the fear of the young Molly filled Molly now.

Waqt suddenly appeared out of the fire.

“How did he walk into the fire like that?” gasped Rocky.

The six-year-old Molly was crying loudly and the puppy Petula was howling. Waqt placed the small girl on the ground. The puppy Petula bounded up to her and the child clung to her black velvet form, sobbing.

“He just stepped out of time,” Molly explained. “It looked like he was in the fire, but he wasn’t. He was hovering out of the time of the flames, so the flames couldn’t hurt him.”

“His priests are impressed,” said Rocky.

“Let’s try to find his collection of crystals.”

They crept closer, their eyes searching for a bag or a cushion or a box. Then Rocky pulled at Molly’s sleeve
and drew her attention to a low staircase near Waqt. Zackya slid out from behind it and sidled up to the giant. He was clutching his silver time-travel gadget. He stood on a block so that he could reach his master’s ear and, panting, he whispered something and pointed to the crowd near to where Molly and Rocky were hiding.

Waqt cuffed Zackya around the head and laughed into the audience. Molly was sure that his laugh was directed at her. Then, as if testing her, Waqt turned to accept a long, bone-handled knife that a priest was offering him, and he steadily began mounting the tallest set of steps. The train of his green robe trailed behind him like long, iridescent peacock feathers and the blade of the knife flashed in the moonlight.

At the top of the steps a purple-robed man held a white goat. Its bleats could be heard above the beat of the drums. It was obvious now what Waqt was going to do. The drums reached a cacophony of rhythm, and his priests began to chant.

“Oohhhh Dahla… OOOhhhhlaa Deahliea.”

Waqt crouched over the defenseless goat.

“Oohhhh Dahla… OOOhhhhlaallaa Deahliea.”

Silently Waqt slit the animal’s throat. The knife clattered down the steps.

A priest carrying a silver bowl scurried to Waqt’s side. Blood splashed into the bowl.

Waqt descended the stairs and walked over to the flat, cracked rock. He picked up the sleeping baby Molly. He plucked a peacock feather from his cloak and solemnly dipped it into the bowl of blood. With great panache and a flourish of his hand he used the drenched feather to wipe the fresh blood on the peaceful baby’s head. “Tonight, little Waqt, we shall see how many more crystals you can draw from the earth.”

Molly and Rocky watched in horror. Neither knew that the cracked rock was a crystal fountain, nor that Waqt was using the baby to draw the gems from the earth. When Molly spied Zackya’s familiar purple turban winding its way through the crowd toward them, she knew it was time for her and Rocky to disappear.

“That gadget seems to be giving him your exact location,” Rocky said. Molly took his hand and gripped her red crystal. There was a BOOM.

Molly whisked them very, very slightly forward in time, but she didn’t land. The warm time winds washed about them, and the world was a misty apparition moving in slow motion.

“This is too weird for words,” Rocky said. “Look, there’s Zackya walking about in the crowd looking for us, and Waqt doing his thing.”

For a moment, they could think. Ojas’s voice rang
in Molly’s ears.
“You will have to kill him, Mollee. You do realize that?”

If she wanted to, she could get really close to Waqt
now.
She could walk through the time-hover air toward the knife that lay on the ground. She could appear, take the knife, then disappear again. She could move through the time-hover air until she was right behind Waqt. And do what? Kill him? Molly could never kill a person. And, anyway, how could an eleven-year-old girl thrust a long carving knife into an old, sinewy giant like Waqt? Who was she kidding? She wouldn’t have the first clue where to stick the blade. She’d make a mess of it. She’d just graze him. And then he’d turn around and chop her into little pieces.

“What shall we do, Rocky?”

Rocky frowned. “Go forward in time to
tomorrow,
when the observatory will be empty? We can go right to where the six-year-old Molly was left
tonight,
and then we can time travel back to
now.
When we arrive, we’ll be near her. We can grab her and run to the others and the baby and, as soon as we’re all touching, we can take off. We won’t have his bag of crystals, but at least we’ll have all of you!”

This sounded a far better plan than trying to kill Waqt. Molly concentrated on the red crystal. Like a well-fired arrow, she shot herself and Rocky to the next
evening, just as the sun was going down.

A peaceful holy cow stood in the observatory beside the tallest staircase. It took a calm look at the visitors and continued grazing. Molly and Rocky ran over to the spot where the six-year-old had been dumped after her ordeal the night before.

Then Molly gripped her green crystal and held Rocky’s shoulder.

“Are you ready?”

Cool time winds blew about them as Molly aimed them back to the night before. They hovered in time and surveyed the scene. Through the time mist they could make out Waqt’s huge form. He was moving beside the cracked rock where the ten-year-old and the three-year-old and the baby Molly were. Molly nudged Rocky and herself forward in time a bit.

“There must be a moment when Waqt isn’t near them all,” she said. But every time they hovered, Waqt was there, like a limpet, sticking to the younger Mollys.

“Go back to the moment when the six-year-old is on her own,” said Rocky. And so Molly did.

They landed and, running on adrenaline, Molly embraced the six-year-old. Rocky quickly caught the puppy and held Molly’s shoulder tight. Focusing on the red crystal, Molly shot them forward and away. The little girl screamed.

With her arms around her younger self, Molly spoke in her ear. “Don’t worry, Molly, I’ve come to save you. Everything’s going to be better very soon.” As Molly said these words she remembered a big person once saying them to her. It was a very odd sensation, but she ignored it, as she had to concentrate on escaping. She took them forward to the evening of the next day and they stopped in that time. Again, the cow looked up.

“Okay, Molly,” she said, “are you all right?”

The six-year-old Molly wiped the tears from her eyes and looked around her, terrified.

“Has that nasty clown gone?”

“Yes.” Molly hugged her younger self.

The puppy Petula wriggled and licked Rocky’s face. Rocky touched his cheek to see how many scales had grown there, but his skin was smooth. Molly inspected the younger Molly’s face and neck and pulled up her sleeves.

“Has she scaled up at all?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Her elbows are a bit dry, I suppose.”

“Who are you?” the little Molly said, pulling her elbow away. “I don’t really know you. And I don’t like China. I want Mrs. Trinklebury.”

“We’ll take you home to her soon. And then you can see Rocky and that horrid old trout Miss Adderstone.”
This made the small Molly laugh, and then, unfortunately, cry. Rocky stroked her head.

“You know, this is India,” he said, “not China. And we can’t stay here for too long or that nosy cow is going to come over and ask us what we’re doing.” The young Molly let out a small half-sob, half-laugh. “So,” continued Rocky, “we have to go this way.” He led the small girl toward the gate where the wall was. Now all they needed to do was remember where exactly Ojas had parked Amrit. Beads of sweat gathered on Molly’s temples as she tried to judge the place.

“Okay, little Molly, now hold my hand tight. Rocky will hold the puppy. We’re just going backward in time to rescue our other friends.”

“But…,” objected the six-year-old. Before she could say any more, they were flying.

“This is nice,” Molly assured the scruffy six-year-old as the world flashed by.

They landed in the warm, March full-moon night of 1870. A horrible sight greeted them.

Zackya was in front of Amrit. She pawed the ground with her great padded foot. Petula was barking madly.

When Molly appeared, he cackled.

“I knew you’d come back here, you fool! I knew you would have left
your friends
and your mode of transport out here.”

Ojas gave a swift instruction to Amrit. “Baitho!” The elephant knelt down.

Molly thought quickly. She plunged toward Ojas, pulling the little girl with her.

“Take her,” she shouted to Forest, and he helped little Molly clamber up. Rocky dived forward, still holding the puppy, and sprang onto the elephant, too. Molly clutched her colored crystals and grabbed the animal’s trunk. Sweating, she sharpened her mind and, with an enormous effort of concentration, lifted the whole party out of 1870.

There was a thunderous BOOM as Amrit disappeared. Beneath this clamor was the noise of Petula’s frenzied barking.

“Don’t let her fall off!” Molly shouted up to Forest.

1890, 1900, 1930, 1950… They shot forward. Molly clung to Amrit’s trunk. Still, Petula barked.

Ojas whooped with excitement. Warm time winds enveloped them and the world reeled with color.

Molly shut her eyes and tried to judge how far they had traveled. She decided to put the brakes on.

The drone of cars filled the air.

They’d escaped. Molly let her hands drop in relief. But, as she did, a terrible thing happened. Two sets of taloned fingers scraped across her right palm, scooping out her two crystals. Petula’s barking became
louder and more frantic. Molly turned to see Zackya running toward the gates of the observatory, with Petula struggling under his arm, trying to bite him. He looked back. He was so ecstatic that he was practically dancing.

“You are a complete fool, Miss Moon!” he jibed, his eyes burning with mean triumph. “
I traveled with you.
So I now have your crystals
and
your dog!” He shoved Molly’s crystals into his pocket and put his fist around Petula’s nose. “All I needed to do was touch the elephant, too. The only one to notice was your dog. She jumped on me. Now you are easy meat for the maharaja!” He hopped about excitedly.

Molly could hardly bear to see Petula’s big eyes blinking out at her from behind Zackya’s fist. “Help me, Molly,” they were pleading. “Help me.” What Zackya planned to do with her, she dared not imagine. This was disastrous. They were all as good as dead if she couldn’t time travel. Desperately she tried diplomacy.

“Zackya,” she shouted, “please stop and listen! Don’t take Petula. Please don’t. And don’t take my crystals! You already know Waqt doesn’t appreciate you… as he
should.”
Zackya cocked his head to one side. For a moment Molly thought she might win him over. “Waqt has walked over your life. Taking Petula
and my crystals to him won’t make a difference. Why don’t you stand up to him? Set yourself free! If you give Petula the crystals, you’ll be doing something good. Join
us.
Together we can outwit him. Imagine that, Zackya. Imagine never being frightened that Waqt will hypnotize you or kill you ever again. Imagine being free!
Please,
Zackya.” Molly longed to stare into his shifty eyes long enough to hypnotize him, but it was useless. Zackya shook his head and waggled his finger at Molly.

“You fool. You will never be able to help me in the way Waqt can. I
need
to get to the Bubble at the beginning of time. I
need
to be washed with the light of youth. Look at me. I’m scaly and old from all the time travel I’ve been forced to do. Soon my body will have aged so much that I will die. Before it does, I have to get to the light. You cannot help me, Moon. You are merely a child. As soon as we have enough crystals, Waqt will take me there.” He gave a sideways, gap-toothed grimace and squeezed Petula.

In desperation, Molly froze the world. Everything went still—except for Zackya.

“Bad luck!” He laughed. “You’re not with beginners now, Molly!”

Molly raised her hypnotic eyes to him, ready to bore through to the center of his brain. He dropped
his gaze and reached for something in his pocket. When he looked up, he had donned a pair of swirly anti-hypnotism spectacles. Molly’s hypnotic look bounced off them.