The Pickpocket

Chapter 10 - Animals

I stared at Dad in disbelief. Then a grin began to form on my face as realisation hit me.

“So I’m older than you?” I asked. Dad thought about this for a minute, then shook his head.

“No,” he replied firmly, “you may have been born in 1915 but you lived and grew up in the twenty-first century. So, technically, you’re the same age as you were and you’re younger than me. I think.”

“Soldiers!” a voice barked. “The truck is here for you!” A young soldier stepped into the room and saluted. “Your animals are to be sedated. Good luck, sirs.”

“Why?” Dad asked. I was too busy thinking about how old I should really be to pay any attention to what the soldier was saying. But one thing in particular grabbed my attention.

“What was that?” I cut in. The soldier turned to me.

“The animals will be split up from you in the truck and sedated,” he repeated, “and if they - and you - do not pass the medical examination, then you cannot work.” I raised a hand to my head and gingerly poked the lump. I hissed in pain and my hand came down again. The soldier waited before continuing.  

“The animals would be put down and you would be asked to leave the animal ranks,” he said, “you might be able to find work elsewhere in the army but I doubt it. Sirs,” he added as an afterthought.  

Dad swore and I lay down again slowly. Neither of us were particularly strong, tall, or intimidating. Neither was I in the best of health and Dad had numerous scars which occasionally hurt him. We glanced at one another, then back to the soldier. He saluted nervously and backed out of the room. Then he poked his head back around it.

“As I was saying, sirs, the truck is here for you now. If you would collect together your belongings and meet me outside, I’m to be transported with you.” It was only now that I was able to place the young man’s accent.

“You’re Australian?” I said in surprise. He nodded and smiled shyly.

“Yeah,” he drawled, still smiling, “the only one around here. Most of us Aussies aren’t helping in the war but my Pa wanted me to work here, so I took the chance to work with the animals. I used to live on a ranch, see, so I’m good with horses and suchlike.” He smiled again and beckoned us out of the room. “Come on. We’ll all be for it if the truck is kept waiting any longer.”

 

*

 

Dad and I were allowed to scrape together our few belongings before the truck left. The animals were bundled in with us. Just as the engine revved, I darted out and gathered together a few pieces of metal from the road. The Australian soldier - Pete Johnson, we found out his name was - raised an eyebrow as I got back into the truck.

“Pocket watch,” I explained, a happy smile on my face. “We were closer than I thought when it fell through the truck floor.” Dad has a way with gadgets so I dumped the pieces onto his lap for him to sort out. He took off his jacket and lay it across the floorboards, creating a makeshift workbench. He pulled a few tools from his belt and got to work, leaving me and Pete to talk freely.

“So, where are you from?” Pete asked. I smiled and began to tell him the story so far. Once I’d finished, Pete looked visibly shaken. His eyes kept on flicking to the pocket watch and to me to Dad and back again.

“So… you’re from the future?” Pete said slowly. I nodded but then shook my head.

“I was born in 1915, apparently, but I grew up in the twenty-first century.”