Chapter 14 - Fourteen: Oh Boy

Tim bent down to a car battery and a pair of positive and negative cables. He attached the cables to the battery, took a deep breath, and then pushed the cables into two holes Nick had carved out of the machine's hull.

Sknazz. Pop.

The Viachron's insides began to glow.

"Success!" Nick punched the air.

"Wow," Cheryl Miller said. "It really works?"

"Of course," Nick said, a little offended by her surprise.

Tim stood up, his face slightly pale. "If by work you mean it didn't blow up in my face this time and make my nose hair sprinkle out like ground pepper, then OK, it works."

Nick had to bite his tongue so hard he thought it would split in two. Maybe bringing Tim on the team was a mistake after all.

"Commencing countdown," Nick said, shaking off Tim's sarcasm. "Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One!" He smacked a red button on the side of the machine.

Crack-pop.

"Again," Daniel said over the machine's hum, "as Nick and Company's scientific advisor, this would be the optimal time to abandon your experiment and save the lives of at least a half dozen people."

"And as your brand manager," Xanthus rolled his eyes, "Nick and Company Technologies should be known for taking risks."

"And as security director," Helen said, "I'm advising everyone to shut up before I foot-punch them all in their faces."

The room swelled with light. Everyone slowly stepped back to the wall. The machine went dark.

"That it, dude?" Xanthus called out from somewhere.

There was a blast of yellow light. Nick gripped the machine as it began to shake and roar. The fish wiggled furiously.

"I think it's wor—!" Nick looked back to give Tim a thumbs up but stopped.

"Nick!" Tim screamed. "The beam's too focused. It's cutting through the bowl!"

Nick looked back to see a white-hot beam, no bigger than a pencil, shoot straight through the fishbowl. Small waterfalls began spitting out of the newly burned holes.

"No, no, no, no, no, no." Nick flipped up his welder's mask and yanked open a panel. "Don't worry. I got this."

The fish stared at the growing waterfalls coming out of the holes. It might have realized what the holes meant: freedom from the horror that was this glass prison. With a new hope, it swam toward its escape. Nick fiddled with several knobs and turned a blue one.

The fish pushed through the hole.

Nick turned the knob twice. The beam of light bloomed to a yellow glow.

The fish leaped up, arching and twisting its body. Now encased in the glow of the Viachron, it flipped its torso skyward.

"Hah!" Nick yelled and twisted a smaller knob. There was the burst of a brilliant white light. Everyone covered their faces.

The fish reached the top of its dive, hovering, posing in the light …

A snowy substance fell to the ground.

Tim ripped off the Weaver football helmet. "Turn it off, Nick!"

Nick reached for the orange power cord and tore it from the wall. "No. No. No," he cried.

"Nick!" Helen pointed. Where there was once a water bowl, wooden chair, and a goldfish making its great escape, now swirled a cloud of white ash. And behind the ash, a perfectly cut hole in the shed. And behind the hole, a stunning view of Hiker's Canyon.

On fire.

The football helmet dropped from Tim's hand as he stared at the burning trees. "We. Are. So. Dead."

Cheryl yelped and threw her SpaceNow tablet, which had burst into flames.

ZZZZzzzzz came the sound of pyrodrones zooming across Hiker's canyon, their fire hoses at the ready.

The scene around Nick fell into chaos as the battery attached to the machine exploded into sparks and smoke. Cries rose from teenage refugees down in the canyon as everything fell into horror and pandemonium.

Nick felt a numbness wash over him. Everything they'd been working for these past months just blew up in their faces.

"This can't be happening," he moaned. "We were so close."

"Nikolas!" A shocked voice rang through the room. It was that voice. "What is the meaning of this!?"

"Oh boy," Tim announced, before turning around. "We're all dead."

Their grandfather, Grand, with his white and yellow marbled beard stood in the doorway like some Viking out of time. He wore a green trench coat plastered in dirt. He stepped in and coughed through the smoke and dust. "What is the meaning of this? What happened to my shed?"

"Grand?" Nick said hesitantly. "So good to see you. How was Machu Picchu?"

A pyrodrone flew into the room, screaming, "Fire! Fire!" It spun in a circle, ejecting fire retardant like a spinwheel, and within minutes the room was covered in white ooze but at least the fire had been put out. Wafts of smoke began swirling through.

Behind Grand, Lir rolled into the room on his wheelchair. He took in the site of smoldering embers and glop of fire retardant dripping from Grand's hair. "Well. This is quite a site."

"What happened here?" Grand frowned and then his voice rose. "Is that the Viachron, Nick? What did you do to my machine?"

"We were going to win the SpaceNow prize," Xanthus explained.

Nick looked at his grandfather, trying to fight back disappointment, "We're not getting off this planet."

Something about those words seemed final for Nick. He exchanged a quick glance with Xanthus and had to look away.

It was over.

How many experiments, how many ideas, how many attempts had he embarked on to get them out of here?

"I don't think it's ever going to happen." Nick aimed away from his friends. He imagined their disappointed expressions, not to mention how Tim's pointed eyebrows said "I told you so."

With a quiet groan, Nick lamented, "We didn't win the prize, Grand."

"You most certainly did not!" Cheryl declared while smacking at a bit of burning turtleneck. She handed Nick a slip of paper, which read: "Nick and Company submission to the New Life Colony Contest disqualified. – SpaceNow Representative, Cheryl Miller." Without another word, she stormed out of Grand's shed.

Grand went to the Viachron and nearly hugged it. Even though the room was coated in debris and ash, the machine remained completely intact.

"It's not damaged. Thank the tether," Grand said.

"Well. I kind of got it working," Nick offered.

"I very much doubt it!" Grand blasted, wild-eyed. He gathered himself with a breath and then explained, "You haven't even turned it on, laddie. You need the key." He pulled out a copper key flecked in dirt. "And I happen to have the key."

"I got it to work," Nick eyed the key, confused. "Really."

"No. You did not," Grand's voice rose. "If you did, you would have been cast from this reality and to a new one."

"What?"

"My dear Nikolas. The Viachron—" Grand gently tapped the machine. "It's a time machine."