Terry Pratchett - Johnny and the Bomb

"We tests it every Tuesday and Friday, reg'lar-" said the sergeant.

"There's a hole in the ceiling," said Yoless.

Tom stood looking at the switch. He was certain he'd done his bit. He wasn't sure how, but he'd done it. And things that should be happening next weren't happening.

"It wasn't my fault," he mumbled.

"Your man fired a gun," said the sergeant. "We never did know where the bullet went."

"We know now," said the captain grimly. "It's hit a wire somewhere."

"There's got to be some other way," said Johnny. "It mustn't end like this! Not after everything! Look!"

He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and held it up.

"What's that?" said the captain.

"It's tomorrow's newspaper," said Johnny. "If the siren doesn't go off."

The captain stared at it.

"Oh, trying to pull our leg, eh?" said the police sergeant nervously.

The captain turned his eyes from the paper to Johnny's wrist. He grabbed it.

"Where did you get this watch?" he snapped. "I've seen one like it before! Where do you come from, boy?"

"Here," said Johnny. "Sort of. But not ... now."

There was a moment's silence. Then the captain nodded at the sergeant.

"Ring up the local newspaper, will you?" he said. "It's a morning paper, isn't it? Someone should still be there."

"You're not seriously-"

"Please do it."

Seconds ticked by as the policeman huddled over the big black phone. He muttered a few words.

"I've got Mr Stickers, the chief compositor," he said. "He says They're just clearing the front page and what do we want?"

The captain glanced at the paper, and sniffed at it.

"Fish? Never mind ... is there an advertisement for Johnson's Cocoa in the bottom left hand corner of the page? Don't stare. Ask him."

There was some mumbling.

"He says yes, but-"

The captain turned the page over.

"On page two, is there a single column story headed "Fined 2/6p for Bike Offence"? On the crossword, is One Down "Bird of Stone, We Hear" with three letters? Next to an advertisement for Plant's Brushless Shaving Creams? Ask him."

The sergeant glared at him, but spoke to the distant Stickers.

"Roc," said Kirsty, in an absentminded way.

The captain raised an eyebrow.

"It's a mythical bird, I think," said Yoless, in the same hypnotized voice. "Spelled like "rock" but without a K. "We hear" means it sounds the same."

"He says yes," said the sergeant. "He says-"

"Thank you. Tell him to be ready in case ... no, Let's not be hasty ... just thank him."

There was a click when the sergeant put the phone down.

Then the captain said, "Do you know how long We've got?"

"Three minutes," said Johnny.

"Can we get on the roof, sergeant?" said the captain. "Dunno, but-"

"Is there some other siren in the town?"

"There's a manky old wind-up thing we used to use, but-"

"Where is it?"

"It's under the bench in the Lost Property cupboard but-"

There was a leathery noise and suddenly the captain was holding a pistol.

"You can argue with me afterwards," he said. "You can report me to whomever you like. But right now you can give me the keys or unlock the blasted cupboard, or I'll shoot the lock off. And I've always wanted to try that, believe me."

"You don't believe these kids, do-"

"Sergeant!"

In a sudden panic, the sergeant fumbled in his pockets and trotted across the room.

"You do believe us?" said Kirsty.

"I'm not sure," said the captain, as the sergeant dragged out something big and heavy. "Thank you, sergeant. Let's get it outside. No. I'm not sure at all, young lady. But I might believe that watch. Besides ... if I'm wrong, then all that will happen is that I'll look foolish, and I daresay the sergeant will give you all a thick ear. If I'm right then ... this won't happen?" He waved the paper.

"I ... think so," said Johnny. "I don't even know if arty of this will happen ... "

Bigmac was on the floor with Wobbler on top of him. Wobbler might not know how to fight, but he did know how to weigh.

"Get off!" said Bigmac, flailing around. Trying

vicious street-fight punches on Wobbler was like hitting a pillow.

"I'm still alive in 1996, Aren't I?" said Wobbler. "Cos I've been born, right? So even if I never time travel back I ought to still be alive in 1996, right? I bet you

know something about me!"

"No, no, we never met you!"

"I'm alive, then? You do know something, right?"

"Get off, I can't breathe!"

"Come on, tell me!

"You're not supposed to know what's going to

happen!"

"Who says? Who says?"

There was a yowl behind him. Wobbler turned his

head. Bigmac looked up.

Guilty the cat stretched lazily, yawned, and hopped down off the bags. He padded confidently alongside the mossy wall, moving in his lurching diagonal fashion, and disappeared around the building.

"Where's it going?" said Wobbler.

"How should I know? Get off "f me!"

The boys followed the cat, who didn't seem at all

bothered by their presence.

He stopped at the church door and lay down with

his front paws outstretched.

"First time I've seen him go away from the trolley,"

said Bigmac.

And then they heard it.

Nothing.

The faint noises of the town didn't stop. There was the sound of a piano from a pub somewhere. A door opened, and there was laughter. A car went by slowly, in the distance. But suddenly the sounds were coming from a long way off, as if there was some sort of thick invisible wall.

"You know those bombs ... " said Wobbler, not taking his eyes off the cat.

"What bombs?" said Bigmac.

"The bombs Johnny's been going on about."

"Yeah?" said Bigmac.

"Can you remember what time he said? It was pretty soon, I think."

"Brilliant! I've never seen anywhere bombed," said Bigmac.

Guilty started to purr, very loudly.

"Er ... you know my sister lives in Canada," said Wobbler, in a worried voice.

"What about her? What's she got to do with anything?"

"Well ... she sent me a postcard once. There's this cliff there, right, where the Indians used to drive herds of buffalo over to kill them ... "

"Isn't geography wonderful."

"Yeah, only ... there was this Indian, right, and he wondered what the drive would look like from underneath ... and that's why It's called Head-Bashed-In Jump. Really."

They both turned and looked at the chapel.

"This is still here in 1996," said Bigmac. "I mean, It's not going to get bombed... "

"Yeah, but don't you think it'd be better to be sort of behind it"

The wail of a siren rose and fell.

There were faint noises in Paradise Street. Someone must have moved a blackout curtain, because light showed for a moment. Someone else shouted, in a back garden somewhere.

"Great!" said Bigmac. "All we need is popcorn."

"But It's going to happen to real people!" said Wobbler, aware that real people could include him.

"No, "cos the siren's gone off. They'll all be down their bomb shelters. That's the whole point. Anyway, it'd happen anyway, right? It's history, okay? It'd be like going back to 1066 and watching the Battle of... whatever it was. It's not often you get to see an entire pickled onion factory blow up, either."

People were certainly moving. Wobbler could hear them in the night. A sound from this end of the street was exactly like someone walking into a tin bath in the darkness.

And then ...

"Listen," said Bigmac, uncertainly.

Guilty sat up and looked alert.

There was a faint droning noise in the east.

"Brilliant," said Bigmac.

Wobbler edged towards the side of the church.

"This isn't television," he mumbled.

The droning got closer.

"Wish I'd brought my camera," said Bigmac.