Terry Pratchett - Johnny and the Bomb

"Come on," said Bigmac. "Let's get back to the church. The man said they thought there was an unexploded bomb-"

"He just didn't want to listen!" said Wobbler. "I would've listened!"

"Yeah, sure," said Bigmac.

"Well, I would!"

"Sure. Come on."

"I could've helped him if only he'd listened! I know stuff? Why won't he listen? I could make life a lot easier for him!"

"All right, I believe you. Now Let's go, shall we?"

They reached the church just as Johnny and the others came running up the street.

"Everyone all right?" said Kirsty. "Why are you covered in soot, you two?"

"We've been rescuing people," said Wobbler, proudly. "Well, sort of."

They looked at the wreck of Paradise Street. People were standing around in small groups, and sitting on the ruins. Some ladies in official-looking hats had set up a table with a tea urn on it. There were still a few small fires, however, and the occasional crash and tinkle as a high-altitude cocktail onion fell back to earth in a coating of ice.

Johnny stared.

"Everyone got out, Johnny," said Wobbler, watching him carefully.

"I know."

"The siren was just in time."

"I know."

Behind him, Johnny heard Kirsty say: "I hope they get counselling?"

"We found out about that," said Bigmac's voice. "They get a nice cup of tea and told to cheer up because it could be worse."

"That's all?"

"Well ... There's biscuits, too."

Johnny watched the street. The firelight almost made it look cheerful.

And his mind's eye saw the other street. It was here, too, happening at the same time. There were the same fires and the same piles of rubble and the same fire engines. But there were no people - except the ones carrying stretchers.

We're in a new time, he thought.

Everything you do changes everything. And every time you move in time you arrive in a time a little bit different to the one you left. What you do doesn't change the future, just a future.

There's millions of places when the bombs killed everyone in Paradise Street.

But it didn't happen here.

The ghostly images faded away as the other time veered off into it's own future.

"Johnny?" said Yoless. "We'd better get out of here."

"Yeah, no point in staying," said Bigmac.

Johnny turned.

"Okay," he said.

"Are we going by trolley or are we going to ... walk?" said Kirsty.

Johnny shook his head.

"Trolley," he said.

It was waiting where they'd left it. But there was no sign of Guilty.

"Oh, no!" said Kirsty. "We're not going to look for a cat."

"He went to watch the bombing," said Wobbler. "Don't know what happened to him after that."

Johnny gripped the handle of the trolley. The bags creaked in the darkness.

"Don't worry about the cat," he said. "Cats find their own way home."

The Golden Threads Club occupied the old church on Friday mornings. Sometimes there was a folk singer, or entertainment from local schools, if this couldn't be avoided. Mainly there was tea and a chat.

This was usually about how things were worse now than they had ever been, especially those golden days when you could buy practically anything for sixpence and still have change.

There was a change in the air and five figures appeared.

The Golden Threaders watched them suspiciously, in case they broke into "The Streets of London". They also noted that they were under thirty years old, and therefore almost certainly criminals. For one thing, They'd apparently stolen a shopping trolley. And one of them was black.

"Er... " said Johnny.

"Is this the theatre group?" said Kirsty. The others were astonished at the quick thinking. "Oh, no, wrong church hall, very sorry."

They edged towards the door, pushing the trolley.

The Threaders watched them owlishly, tea-cups cooling in their hands.

Wobbler opened the door and ushered the others through it.

"Don't forget, one of them was black," said Yoless, as he stepped out. He rolled his eyes sarcastically and waved his hands in the air. "We's goin' to de carnivaaal!"

Some Other Now ...

The air outside smelled of 1996. Kirsty looked at her watch.

"Ten-thirty on Saturday morning," she said. "Not bad."

"Er, your watch is at ten-thirty on Saturday morning," said Johnny. "That doesn't mean we are."

"Good point."

"But I think we are, anyway. This all looks right."

"Looks fine to me," said Wobbler.

"We've been out all night," said Yoless. "My mum'll go spare.

"Tell her you stopped at my place and the phone was broken," said Wobbler.

"I don't like lying."

"Are you going to tell her the truth?"

Yoless thought for a few agonized seconds. "Your phone was broken, right?"

"Yeah, and I'll tell my mum I was staying at your place," said Wobbler.

"I shouldn't think my grandad's noticed I'm not in," said Johnny. "He always drops off in front of the telly.,

"My parents have a very modern outlook," said Kirsty.

"My brother doesn't mind where I am so long as the police don't come round," said Bigmac.

Before time travelling to any extent, Johnny thought, you should always get your alibi sorted out.

He stared at the place where Paradise Street had been. It was still the Sports Centre. That hadn't changed. But Paradise Street was still there, underneath. Not underground. Just ... somewhere else. Another fossil.

"Did we change anything?" said Kirsty.

"Well, I'm back," said Wobbler. "And that's good enough for me."

"But those people are alive when they ought to've been dead" Kirsty began, and stopped when she saw Johnny's expression. "All right, not exactly ought, but you know what I mean. One of them might've invented the Z-bomb or something."

"What's the Z-bomb?" said Bigmac.

"How should I know? It wasn't invented when we left!"

"Someone in Paradise Street invented a bomb?" said Johnny.

"Well, all right, not a bomb. Something else that'd change history. Any little thing. And you know we left all Bigmac's stuff in the police station?"

"Ahem."

Yoless removed his hat and produced a watch and a Walkman.

"The sergeant was so flustered he forgot to lock the cupboard after he got the siren out," said Yoless. "So I nipped in."

"Did you get the jacket?"

"Chucked it in a dustbin."

"That was mine," said Bigmac reproachfully.

"Well, maybe that's all right," Kirsty conceded reluctantly. "But There's bound to be some other changes. We'd better find out pretty fast."

"We'd better have a bath, too," said Wobbler.

"Your hands have got blood on them," said Johnny.

Wobbler looked down vaguely.

"Oh, yeah. Well ... we were pulling at smashedup walls and things," he said. "You know ... in case there was anyone trapped ... "

"You should've seen him grab his grandad!" said Bigmac. "It was brilliant!"

Wobbler looked proud.

They met up an hour later in the mall. The burger bar was back to the way it had always been. No-one said anything about it, but from the way he sighed occasionally it was clear that Bigmac was thinking of free burgers every week for the rest of his life.

That jogged Johnny's memory.

"Oh ... yes," said Johnny. "Er. We've got this letter ... for you ... "

He pulled it out. It was crumpled, and covered in vinegar and sooty fingerprints.

"Er, It's for you," he repeated. "Someone ... asked us to give it to you.

"Yeah, someone," said Yoless.

"Who we don't know who he was," said Bigmac. "A completely mysterious person. So It's no use you asking us questions."

Wobbler gave them a suspicious look, and ripped open the envelope.

"Go on, what's he say?" said Bigmac.

"Who?" said Wobbler.

"Y- this mysterious person," said Bigmac.

"Dumb stuff," said Wobbler. "Read it yourself."