A Case of Time-Travelling Shorts

The Ninety-Six Theory - III

The robot exhaled acidic fumes. Beams of heat shot out of its fingers. The heroine led, sealing herself in a safe. Yuri looked across to his sister. Her young face was buried in their father's shirt. The robot placed its hand against the metal of the safe. The movie switched to a shot of the girl, where a faint orange patch was growing brighter and brighter on the safe wall. It was Yuri's favourite part of the movie; where the hero decapitated the robot, rescued the girl, and they lived happily ever after. He often thought back to the movie as he got older. It was never meant to play out in real life, and the robots were certainly never meant to have won.

The next morning, Yuri left the Homestead as the sun rose. It was ghostly outside. Mist poured down the hills, gathering thickly on the lake.

Barry was waiting for him by the lakeshore. Two massive, four-legged creatures stood beside him. Clad in thick harnesses, they were longer than the Beetle, and much taller than it. The horses, one brown, and one speckled white, pawed at the ground restlessly as the sun lit up the lake like a mirror.

"It's not going to be pretty," Barry warned. "The metal you've got wedged under the car is going to scrape pretty badly."

The thrusters, Yuri realized. "How bad?" he asked.

"Like cheese in a grater."

The screeching, squealing of the thrusters rang in Yuri's ears for hours afterward. To their credit, the clydesdales were very well-natured about it. Once the car was tucked into the garage of an unoccupied lakefront house, Barry left him alone, saying only: "You're a good guy, Yuri. A good guy. I'm real sorry about the whole situation you're in." He seemed strangely emotional to Yuri. Maybe he had been more affected by the awful noise.

He unwedged his helmet from the windscreen, alone, he began cleaning the Beetle. Many hours, and countless buckets of water later, her red body shone under the lights. He looked at the broken, bastardized craft. It would never fly again. Not without parts.

A hazy idea began to form. The salvage crew would have a map of Wastelands. There had to be a timezone with spare parts and scrap metal. His stomach twisted when he thought to silver territory. It would certainly be futuristic enough. Like the future, it would also be fairly deadly.

He slumped in the driver's seat, playing with the console. Sparks flew from the dashboard. When they cleared he realized that the Comms line was open, a decided lack of static on the line. He listened to footsteps pacing; there was someone out there! Yuri donned his cracked helmet. "Hello?" The footsteps neared, and there was an abrupt flick. Static hushed through the speakers again.

Surrounding the car was a workbench, stocked with primitive supply of tools. Fishing poles, saws, and shovels hung from nails in the walls. Yuri moved through the house. In the bedroom, there was a box filled only with 'Moving Pictures,' the book the hunchback had read from.

Elaine knocked on the garage door. She carried a plate loaded with sandwiches.They shared them.

"Elaine, can I ask you something?" he asked.

"Ask away, dear,"

"People at the funeral, they kept glaring at your stomach. I couldn't help wondering-"

Elaine's arms cradled her belly protectively. "Someone's told you about the ninety-six theory, haven't they?"

He nodded.

"It used to just be coincidence that whenever someone passed, another person came stumbling out of the mist. But when wee Wurlitzer was born, Ariana passed not two minutes later. It wasn't a coincidence after that," she looked at him fiercely. "I'll do what I have to do, to stop an innocent from dying."