JOURNEYERS

Journeyeres are like gypsies; they kidnap children and send them back and forth in time

GLEN HARTWELL, AUSTRALIA 2025 AD
Outside the Glen Hartwell High School on Biblical Road and Howard Street, four seventeen-year-old girls and one fifteen-year-old girl were slowly walking down Howard Street on the way home.

"So who's your fave?" asked Suzie Carmichael, a tall, shapely brunette.

"Nicholas Galitzine," said fifteen-year-old Ester, Suzie's younger sister. "He's dreamy."

"And way out of your league, squirt," teased Suzie. "My fave is either Jacob Elordi or Timothée Chalamet. They're both dreamboats!" She sighed and looked dreamy-eyed, thinking about them.

"No fair, picking two," said Ester, a short brunette with braces. "You have to pick just one."

"Yeah, just one," chorused the other girls.

"Okay," said Suzie, thinking for a moment, before saying, "Timothée Chalamet."

"Ooh, he's dreamy," said Adelaide Donadin, a half-breed Aborigine. "But my fave would be Hero Finnes Tiffin."

"The English actor and producer?" asked Lizzie Chong, a pretty Eurasian girl. "Yeah, he's hot, but my fave is Tanner Buchanan, the actor, producer, and director. He is an all-around hottie."

"What about you, Libby?" asked Adelaide.

"Austin Butler or Justin Bieber," said Libby Whyte, a tall, beautiful blonde.

"Justin Bieber?" asked Lizzie. "He is so five years ago."

"Or even six years," said Suzie.

"Besides, you have to choose just one!" reminded Ester.

"All right," she considered for a moment, "Austin Butler."

"At least he is this year," said Adelaide Donadin.

"Duh! He's this moment," insisted Libby, as they walked down the Lemon-scented gum tree-lined street. "This instant, even!"

"Wow, take a chill pill to calm down," teased Ester.

"I was just saying."

"Well," conceded Lizzie, "they're all hot ... But nowhere near as hot as us!"

"That's so true," agreed Suzie, and the five girls started squealing and jumping around like Dodgem-goats.

They were still squealing and jumping around when the procession of brightly coloured horse-drawn caravans drove past them, heading toward Dirk Hartog Place.

"Hey, I think a fair is coming to town," said Libby.

She pointed after the slow-moving caravans, and the five girls, still squealing, were soon racing along the footpath after the procession of a dozen or so caravans. After a moment, they ducked out onto the road and raced across to the nearest caravan.

"What's going on?" asked Lizzie. "Is this a fair or something?"

"No," said the tall, thin, blond man driving the caravan. "We are Journeyers. We travel all around the world, seeing all there is to see."

"Wow," said Suzie, "you must have some great stories to tell us."

"Indeed, we do, indeed we do, if you girls would like to climb aboard the caravan and take a short ride with us to the Southern end of Glen Hartwell."

Squealing with excitement, the five girls raced across to climb up onto the caravan, three inside peeping out, Lizzie and Ester sitting next to the driver.

"I'm Timmie, by the way," he said, holding out his right hand.

"Suzie," she introduced herself, before introducing Ester, then the other girls.

The caravan train rode right through Glen Hartwell, then stopped in the sweet-smelling, lemon-scented, red, and blue gum forest into a clearing a few kilometres beyond the town.

They parked the caravans in a rough circle, untied the horses, and fed and watered them. Then they set up a cook fire in the very centre of the clearing, with rickety wooden stools to sit upon.

Then the leader of the Journeyers, Emil Thorley, asked, "Who wants to hear a story of mice and men and cabbages and kings?"

"Me! Me! Me! Me! Me!" squealed the five girls bouncing around like Dodgem-goats again.

"Very well," said Emil, a huge, powerfully-built man with a shining bald head, "it all started in 1185 AD, nine years before the release of Richard the Lionheart ...."

As he spoke, Emil reached into a cloth bag he wore around his neck, took out a pinch or two of spices and tossed them onto the fire, which flamed up at each pinch, until multi-coloured smoke wreathed from the flames.

"Hey, look, I can see faces in the smoke," said Ester, pointing at the roiling smoke clouds.

"Quiet, squirt," teased Suzie Carmichael.

"No, the little one is right," said Emil, "as I tell the story, the magic spices I throw into the fire will help us to see back to the days of yore. The days of cabbages and kings, of Robin Hood, Prince John, the Sheriff of Nottingham and Robin's Merry Men...."

"But how could you have been alive back ...?" began Suzie, yawning widely as the roiling coloured smoke made her drowsy, made her start to see images of men in Sherwood Green.

"Look, there's Robin ..." began Adelaide, before yawning, then falling asleep to start dreaming of Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest.

Dimly she heard a woman's voice ask, "How many, Emil?" and the head Journeyer reply, "At least three, Yara."

Then, as the storytelling and spice tossing continued, the smoke continued roiling until it had enveloped everyone in the clearing, strangely not making anyone cough, but making them see visions of Robin Hood and Sherwood Forest.

Finally, Emil stopped feeding the fire, and the swirling coloured smoke began to dissipate, leaving behind the Journeyers, and Suzie and Ester Carmichael, with no sign of Adelaide Donadin, Lizzie Chong, or Libby Whyte.

"What ... what happened?" asked a bleary-eyed Suzie.

"Ah, little one, you fell asleep while my husband was telling you of mice and men and cabbages and kings," said the tall, busty, forty-five-year-old blonde.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"Me too," said Ester between yawns. "I think I also fell asleep."

"Not your fault, girls," said Emil. "The mystic smoke can have that effect on you the first couple of times."

"Perhaps we should get them home now, Emil?" suggested Yara.

"Where do you live, girls?" asked Emil.

"55 Lawson Street, Glen Hartwell," said a sleepy-eyed Ester.

"Well, I will get Sanjit to take you home."

"On horseback?" asked a worried-sounding Suzie.

"Surely, as country girls, you have had plenty of experience riding horses?" asked Yara.

"We live in the township," explained Ester. "Although we sometimes go for long walks in the forest."

"As you should," encouraged the busty blonde.

"We sometimes see koalas, kangaroos, even emus," said Suzie. "They're not as fast as John Williamson wanted you to believe, but if you try sneaking up on one, they can sure move."

"That's right," said Ester, as Sanjit arrived leading a huge pinto, "I've tried several times, and I never managed to get close."

Seeing the huge horse, Suzie said, "I'm not sure...."

"Don't worry, little one, I will lift you," offered Emil. He grabbed a startled Suzie by the waist and easily lifted her onto the pinto, which had a saddle blanket but no saddle on it. "And Sanjit will lift you down at Lawson Street."

"Well, Oh ..." started Ester, squealing in surprise as Emil suddenly grabbed her and lifted her onto the pinto behind her sister.


Over at 55 Lawson Street, Glen Hartwell, Daisy Carmichael, a tall, attractive fortyish brunette, was staring out into the tree-lined street, looking worried.

"Where could those two tearaways have got to?" she wondered. "They know they're supposed to come straight home after school, even if they traipse straight out again."

"I'm sure they're both okay," said her older sister, Lysette, a fifty-something Amazonian blonde, who was the madam at the Free Love Sex Lounge in LePage.

At that moment, a huge pinto horse stopped outside with the two girls and Sanjit upon it.

"What the Hell is this?" asked Daisy.

The two women ran across to the front door as Sanjit alighted, then lifted first Ester, then Suzie down to the footpath.

"What do we have here?" asked Daisy. "Is the circus in town again?"

"No, ma'am," said Sanjit, "just giving your two young charges a lift home."

"Pinta, that's her name," explained Ester, "she might be huge, but she's as gentle as a lamb."

"As long as she doesn't bounce around like a hyperactive lamb, the way you two do when you're excited," teased Daisy.

"Mum! You're embarrassing us in front of Sanjit," pleaded Ester.

"And she can't talk," said Lysette, "when we were your age, we jumped about like hyperactive Dodgem lambs too."

"Thank you, young man, for getting my two daughters home safely," said Daisy. "Are you from a travelling circus?"

"No ma'am, we are Journeyers. What the English call Travellers."

"He means Gypsies," said Ester. "They've got horse-drawn caravans and everything."

"So, how did you meet our young charges?" asked Lysette.

"They hitched a ride on one of our caravans as we travelled down Church Street ...."

"He means Biblical Road," corrected Suzie.

"Then our leader, Emil, set out to tell them a story about mice and men and cabbages and kings ... but unfortunately, the smoke from the campfire made them both fall asleep."

"So, we didn't get to hear it," complained Ester.

"You are welcome to come back to our camp another time," offered Sanjit, "with your lovely carers' permission, of course. We'll be out in the forest for up to a week"

"Can we, Mum, can we?" pleaded Suzie, with her and Ester both giving their mother their best Moo-Cow-Eyes looks.

"As long as you come home first next time, before leaving the house again," reminded Daisy Carmichael.

"Sorry, Mum," apologised Suzie. "But we saw the caravan train, got excited and raced across to climb aboard and hitch a ride."

"Next time, please bring some friends with you," said Sanjit. "Emil, our leader, is a natural storyteller. He claims to have taught Stephen King ... Although I suspect that that is just one of his many stories."

"I think so," agreed Lysette, laughing.


Over at eighty-two Boothy Street, Glen Hartwell, Adelaide Donadin's parents, Abigail, a tall, curvaceous blonde in her late thirties, and William, a medium-height man in his early forties, were worried about their daughter being late home from school.

"Where could she be?" asked a teary-eyed Abigail.

"I'm sure she's fine, Abby," assured Willy, only hoping that it was true. "You know what Adelaide and her friends are like? As excitable as chickens with a fox in their hen house."

"That's true, I sometimes think they're part girl, and part goat the way they bounce around," said Abby. "But maybe we should ring the police anyway."

"Perhaps we should ring her friends' houses first?"

"Yes," agreed Abby, picking up her mobile and starting to dial.


Over at 55 Lawson Street, Daisy, Lysette, Ester and Suzie had barely walked into their house when Daisy's mobile phone rang.

Picking it up, she asked, "Hello? I'll ask the girls." Turning to Ester and Suzie, she asked, "Do you know where Adelaide went after school?"

"Adelaide ...?" asked Suzie. For a second, almost recalling that Adelaide, Lizzie and Libby had been with them at the Journeyers' camp. Then, she said, "No, she, Lizzie, and Libby didn't walk home from school with us tonight."

"Whyever not?" asked Lysette.

Suzie and Ester exchanged puzzled looks, trying to remember. Finally, Ester said, "I think they had somewhere else to go."

"Oh," said Daisy, going on to impart that to Abby Donadin. Looking up again, she asked, "But you don't know where they went?"

Ester and Suzie exchanged puzzled, almost remembering looks again, then shook their heads.

"No, they don't know," said Daisy, before disconnecting.


SHERWOOD FOREST, ENGLAND 1185 AD

Having fallen into a trance at the Journeyers' campsite, Adelaide Donadin, Lizzie Chong, and Libby Whyte woke up lying on the overgrown grass in a forest. But not of Wattles, Pines, and Gum trees, as there were outside Glen Hartwell, but rather with great oak trees, silver birches, rowan, holly, and hawthorn trees.

"If I didn't know better," said Adelaide, "I'd think we were no longer in Glen Hartwell, Toto."

At that moment, the girls started to sit up and noticed their clothing.

"Hey, what happened to our school uniforms?" asked Lizzie.

"And why are we wearing voile gowns?" asked Libby.

"With hideously tight, pointed slippers," complained Adelaide.

"And why are three men dressed in green tights riding horses toward us?" asked a frightened-sounding Lizzie Chong.

"Oh God, no!" cried Libby. "Somehow we've got railroaded into one of those moronic role-playing games."

"Where everyone dresses up like Robin Hood, or knights of the Round Table?" asked Libby.

"The very same."

"Then we must be somewhere around LePage or Elroy, with those dipsticks from the LePage and Elroy Battle Re-Enactment Society," said Adelaide.

As the horsemen rode toward them, Lizzie shouted, "Piss off, we're not interested in playing your moronic games."

Stopping to stare at the teenager, a tall, dark-haired man said, "Verily, you do talk strangely, my Chinese beauty."

"I'm only part Chinese, I was born an Aussie!" said Lizzie.

"An Orzie ...?" began the puzzled man. Then a light bulb went off inside his head, "Ah, you were born in Austria. Verily, I have heard of that place."

"Austria ...?" began Lizzie.

"Let him have it," said Adelaide. "Otherwise, we'll be here all day."

"Verily, you do speak strangely too, my dusky angel," said a second rider, a tall, lean, blond man.

"What did he call me?" demanded Adelaide.

"It means you're not white," explained Libby.

"Oh, well, fair enough."

"And who might you be, my fair beauty," a third man, with scruffy red hair, asked Libby.

"Libby Whyte. Who the Hell are you?"

"Verily, you all talk very strangely."

Before the girls had time to run, the three riders reached down, scooped them up, and set them on their horses in front of the saddles.

"And comely wives you will all make," said the blond man.

"Wives? We're only seventeen, Doofus!" said Adelaide.

"Very strange, thy language indeed," said the blond man, "but my name is not Doofus. It is Will, Will-O-Dale."

"Will-O-Dale?" said Adelaide. "You'll be telling us next that you're some of Robin Hood's Merry Men."

"How did you know that, my dusky beauty?" asked the redhead man. "Are you seers?"

"Are we what?" demanded Adelaide.

"He means, are we clairvoyant," explained

"Then yes, I can see-er your future, and it will be very short, unless you let us down."

"Very strange indeed," said Will-O-Dale. "But we cannot put you down, we are claiming you as our wives."

"But we're only seventeen," repeated Adelaide.

"Then it is high time that you all got married," said the dark-haired man. "Around Sherwood, most girls are married by twelve or thirteen."

"It is almost unheard of for three such rare beauties to be unwed at seventeen," said Will-O-Dale.

With that, the three men kicked the flanks of their mounts and took off with their soon-to-be brides still complaining.


GLEN HARTWELL, AUSTRALIA 2025 AD

Over at the Yellow House in Rochester Road, Merridale, they were sitting down to tea at a little after six-thirty.

"So what marvels have you prepared for us tonight, Mrs. M.?" asked Sheila Bennett. A Goth chick with black-and-orange striped hair, Sheila was the Chief Constable of the local area.

"Firstly, a French delicacy, Coq au Vin," said Deidre Morton, the owner of the yellow house. A short, chubby, sixty-something brunette, " a hearty stew of chicken braised in red wine"

"Chicken, I can take or leave," said Tommy Tucker. A short, fat, blond retiree, Tommy was a recovering alcoholic. "But the braised in red wine sounds good."

"I thought you'd like that bit. Then, continuing the chicken theme, Poulet Rôti. Meaning a roasted whole chicken with garlic, lemon, and herbs."

"Then let me guess," said Freddy Kingston, a tall, chubby, bald retiree. "For dessert, we have chicken mousse?"

"No, smarty pants. Since everyone loved it so much last time, we have Pavlova topped with raspberry sauce again."

"Sounds great," said Leo Laxman, a tall, lean Jamaican, employed as a nurse at the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital.

"Excelente," said Terri Scott, the top cop of the area. A tall, beautiful ash blonde, Terri was in her mid-thirties, the same age as Sheila.

"Magnifique," agreed Colin Klein. A tall, redheaded Englishman, Colin was in his late forties and was engaged to be married to Terri on December 10th.

"Super," agreed Natasha Lipzing, a tall, lean, grey-haired lady of seventy-one.

"So bring on the chicken stew," said Tommy.

"Coq au Vin," corrected Deidre.

"Whatever, I just hope you used plenty of red wine."

"He is such a cretin," said Natasha.

"Yeah, but he provides us with comedy relief," said Sheila, making everyone except Tommy laugh.

Deidre had just started to serve out the first course when Terri's mobile phone shrilled.

"Oh no, not a bloody 'gain," said Sheila. "Why must they always ring just as we're starting to eat?"

"Monsters and murderers have no respect for our stomachs," teased Colin as Terri spoke on her phone.

"Neither of those," said Terri after disconnecting. "Three high school girls have vanished on their way home tonight."

"Yeech!" said Sheila as the cops got up to leave.


THE NATIONAL GALLERY, LONDON

Divya Khan was strolling through the hallowed halls of the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square, as she did at least two or three lunchtimes a week, enjoying as many of the gallery's 2300 paintings as possible. Dating from the 1300s to the 1900s, many of the paintings were priceless.

But one of Divya's favourites was a little-known piece, The Three Horsemen, which purported to show Will-O-Dale, and two other of Robin Hood's Merry Men on horseback, riding alone through Sherwood Forest, c. 1185.

"Ah, there you are, my beauty," said Divya, a thirty-eight-year-old Englishwoman, stopping to stare at the picture.

It no longer showed three lone riders, however. Now, the three men each had a young woman seated ahead of their saddles. One black woman, one of Chinese origin, and one a beautiful blonde.

"What the Hell?" said Divya, before fainting.


GLEN HARTWELL, AUSTRALIA

After talking to Adelaide, Lizzie, and Libby's parents, Terri, Colin, and Sheila went around to 55 Lawson Street to talk to Suzie and Ester Carmichael. By then, Lysette had left to start her job as Madam at the Free Love Sex Lounge in LePage. However, the girls' father, Steven Carmichael, had arrived home.

"So, girls, the other parents told us that usually Lizzie, Libby, and Adelaide walked home from school with you two," said Terri, standing in the cream-coloured lounge room.

"Normally they do," agreed Suzie.

"Then, why didn't they tonight?" asked Colin.

"Well ..." said Ester, almost remembering the five girls racing after the Journeyers' horse-drawn caravans. Then the memory vanished again, "I think they had to go somewhere."

"Where?" asked Sheila.

"Well ..." began Ester, for just a second having a flash of all five of them racing out toward the horse-drawn caravan. Then in a flash, the memory was gone, and she said, "I don't know ... they didn't say."


THE NATIONAL GALLERY, LONDON

Dr. Gabriele Finaldi, the director of the National Gallery since 2015, was racing, on his way to an important meeting, when he found Divya Khan sitting on the floor of the gallery, nursing a sore head.

"Are you all right, miss?" asked Gabriele, stopping to help the thirty-eight-year-old woman back to her feet.

"The painting," said Divya, pointing at it.

"The Three Horsemen," the director read the title. "I'm afraid I am not familiar with this one. Even after ten years as director of the National Gallery, I have not yet memorised all 2300 paintings." He read, "Purporting to be a painting of Will-O-Dale and two other of Robin Hood's Merry Men, carrying their new wives upon their horses."

Looking back at Divya, he said, "Of course, Will-O-Dale, and Robin Hood and his Merry Men never really existed, still it is quite a nice painting. Excellent brush work. Perhaps not quite up there with a Constable of Goya, but very nice nonetheless."

"But the wives?" muttered Divya.

"Oh yes, one black, one Asian, one blonde, all quite pretty. Perhaps sixteen or seventeen, but girls as young as twelve got married in those days."

"But they weren't there two days ago, when I was here last."

"The painting wasn't here two days ago?"

"No, the wives weren't there. There were just the three horsemen as the title suggests."

"You think someone has tampered with it?" asked Dr. Finaldi, sounding shocked.

Taking out a key, he unlocked the glass shielding the painting, then ever so gently touched the painting to see if there was any new paint on it.

Looking puzzled, he assured, "No, the women were painted centuries ago. I would guess the same time as the rest of the painting."

"But, I don't understand," protested Divya, as the director locked the glass shield again.


GLEN HARTWELL, AUSTRALIA

"Well, what do you think, babe?" asked Colin as the three cops climbed into Terri's blue Lexus outside 55 Lawson Street.

"I don't think the two girls are consciously lying," said Terri. "But it's almost as though ...?"

"As though they're not quite remembering everything that happened today," suggested Sheila Bennett.

Looking at her second in command, Terri said, "Yes."

"So, where to now?" asked Colin.

"Around to the Gypsy camp, to hear what they have to say on the matter."

"Journeyers," corrected Sheila, as she started the car. "That's what the girls said they called themselves. And I just hope Mrs. M. will save us some of that Pav for later, I'm getting starved."

Forty minutes or so later, they arrived at the Journeyers' campsite, surrounded by the forest of wattles, pines, and sweet-smelling eucalyptus trees.

Outside, they found Emil and Yara Thorley, Timothy, Sanjit, and fifteen or so other men and women sitting around a campfire, roasting a side of beef.

"Oh, I would kill for some of that," whispered Sheila.

Looking around, Emil said, "Then come and sit, there is plenty for everyone."

"Oh, thank God, I'm starved," said Sheila, almost running across to accept a generous chunk of beef cut off the carcase by Emil.

Looking at Terri and Colin, the tall, powerfully built bald man said, "Come on, come and sit, eat hearty."

Needing no further encouragement, Colin and Terri raced across to sit next to Sheila, gladly accepting cuts of beef.

"So what brings you here, officers?" asked the busty blonde, Yara.

"No, no, eat now, talk later," insisted Emil.

The Journeyers and police all tucked into a hearty meal, which came with some boiled potatoes and carrots.

"So, now we can talk," said Emil, after they had finished.

Terri quickly told them about the three missing girls, Adelaide Donadin, Lizzie Chong, and Libby Whyte.

"And you think we stole them, like gypsies are supposed to do?" asked Yara.

"Not at all," said Terri. "We just wondered if you had seen them?"

"No," said Yara, hostilely.

"Ah, no need for hurt feelings," said Emil. "You are welcome to look through our caravans if you like."

"Emil!" said Yara.

"We have nothing to hide. Certainly no missing girls tied up for nefarious purposes."

"Well, if you don't mind?" said Terri.

Before Emil could change his mind, the three cops hurriedly looked through the eleven caravans, without finding any teenage girls, or anything suspicious, except for ....

"What is this?" asked Colin, holding up a sack of varicoloured dust.

"That is my sack of magic dust to impress people, when I am telling them tales of mice and men, and cabbages and kings."

To demonstrate, he took a pinch of the powder and threw it onto the campfire, which gushed out, wreathing smoke.

"Impressive, no?" said Emil. "It helps me to grab the attention of my audience. Unfortunately, it can also put people to sleep the first couple of times they experience it."

"As happened with Ester and Suzie Carmichael," said Terri.

"Yes, two beautiful brunette girls came to our camp straight after school," said Yara. "Emil started to tell them tales of mice and men, and cabbages and kings. Unfortunately, they both fell asleep and missed the story. So Sanjit took them home to Lawson Street upon Pinta, a huge, but gentle pinto mare."

"I notice you don't have anyone here younger than about eighteen or nineteen?" asked Colin.

"Yes, Sanjit, at nineteen, is our youngest member," said Emil. "For nearly two decades now, none of our women have been able to carry a child to full term. So Sanjit and Timothy may end up the last two of the Journeyers sometime in the future."

"Which would make a good reason for stealing other people's children," said Sheila, in her usual brutally honest fashion.

"Yes," agreed Emil. "But you have seen for yourselves that we have no children hidden in our camp. You are welcome to hunt in the forest around our camp, if you think we have children hidden out there?"

"No, no, I'm certain that isn't necessary," said Terri, as they turned to leave.

"Best of luck, finding the missing girls," teased Yara as the three cops departed.

"What do you think?" asked Colin, as Sheila started the Lexus.

"Well, they know how to cook a side of beef," said the Goth policewoman.

"Sheils, do you think of anything besides food?" asked Terri.

"Yes, of course. I was thinking it's time for me to buy another mousy to sneak into the Yellow House to feed to Venice, my Venus Flytrap."

"Well, don't let Deidre catch you!" warned Colin as they headed back toward Merridale.


After breakfast the next morning, Terri, Sheila, and Colin set out to hunt for the three missing school girls, along with other cops from the region: Donald Esk, Stanlee Dempsey, Jessie Baker, Drew Braidwood, Paul Bell, Suzette Cummings, Alice Walker, and Wendy Pearson. The latter two, until a few days ago, had worked as pro rata police women for over a decade, before agreeing to start working full time.

While most of the cops searched around Glen Hartwell, knocking on doors, Terri, Colin, and Sheila went to Glen Hartwell High School to ask if any of the other kids had seen them leaving school the previous day.

"I thought I saw them leaving school with Suzie and Ester yesterday," said Paris Holliston, a tall, pretty sixteen-year-old blonde.

"That's what they usually do," said her twin sister, Bernadette aka Bernie.

"But what did they do yesterday?" asked Colin.

"We're pretty sure they left with Suzie and Ester as usual."

"Curiouser and curiouser," said Terri.

They went on to interview other teens. Most hadn't noticed the three missing girls leaving school, but six or seven others swore blind they had left school with the Carmichael sisters.

"So, do we assume Suzie and Ester were lying?" asked Sheila as they returned to the police-blue Lexus.

"They seemed more confused than lying," pointed out Colin.

"Almost as though they weren't quite sure what had happened," said Terri.

"And they were struggling to remember," finished Sheila.

After lunch, they decided to try tracking the girls with Don Esk's three Alsatian crosses, Slap, Tickle, and Rub.

"So, do we all go together?" asked Wendy Pearson, a forty-six-year-old Honey blonde who looked more like a beauty queen than a cop.

"No, Jessie, Stanlee, and Don will each follow one of the dumb mutts," said Terri. "With the rest of us tagging along behind.

"Why do we always get stuck with the dumb mutts?" complained Jessie Baker, a tall ox of a man, with flame red hair.

"Here, give me your dumb mutt," said Alice Walker, a forty-seven-year-old brunette. An amateur weight-lifter and gym mate of Sheila, Derek Armstrong, and Cheryl Pritchard, Alice was a tall, attractive widow.

"Careful, they're sensitive," warned Don Esk, a huge brown-haired sergeant, who looked ten years younger than his age of forty-one.

"Sensitive?" said Stanlee Dempsey, a huge raven-haired man. "They wouldn't feel it if a meteorite hit them; that's how sensitive they are."

"How dare you?" demanded Don.

"I'll go with Don to relieve him in time," suggested Colin.

"Then I'll go with Alice to relieve her," said Jessie.

"So, I'm stuck with Stanlee, I guess," teased Sheila.

However, when they started in the school yard, giving the dogs a sniff of clothing from the three girls, the Alsatian crosses showed no sign of separating. Instead, yelping from excitement, they set out together, into Biblical Road, dragging their handlers down past Dirk Hartog Place, Matthew Flinders Lane, Dien Avenue, Gallipoli Parade, Lawson Street, then Jedasa Street, heading toward the Southern end of Glen Hartwell.

As Colin, Jessie, and Sheila took over the dogs' chains, Sheila asked, "Who wants to bet that they lead us to the Journeyers' camp?"

"I was just thinking that myself," admitted Terri.

As they continued, the dogs kept dragging them down Biblical Road, past Cardore Avenue, Wrenkyn Street, Calhoun Street, Mountcliffe Way, Dampier Drive, Baltimore Avenue, then out into the pine, wattle, and eucalyptus forest beyond.

"I think the chances of us ending up at the gypsies' campsite are firming, like Phar Lap taking off down the last stretch," said Colin.

"I didn't know you were into the nags?" asked Alice Walker.

"I like the odd flutter," admitted the redheaded Englishman.

"But I'm putting a stop to that, once we're married," teased Terri, smiling to show that she had been joking.

As they had expected, they found themselves led to the Journeyers' camp by the three panting, by then exhausted dogs.

"Ah, back again, and this time you bring your doggies with you," said Emil.

"They're tracking dogs," said Colin. "And they've tracked the three missing girls to this camp."

"They may well have come here," said Emil. "We have had fifteen or more school children turn up in the last day to hear my stories of mice and men, and cabbages and kings."

"Do you recognise any of them?' asked Terri, handing him large, glossy pictures of Adelaide Donadin, Lizzie Chong, and Libby Whyte.

Emil considered them carefully for a minute or more each, then said, "I think the Aboriginal girl was here yesterday. But we've had so many teenagers here that I cannot say one way or the other about the other two girls."

After checking the grounds around the campsite for a couple of kilometres and checking the caravans again, with Emil's permission, the police had no recourse but to depart empty-handed again.


After School that day, Ester and Suzie Carmichael met up with Paris and Bernie Holliston.

"So want to hang with us from now on, girls?" asked Suzie, missing the three lost girls.

"Sure," said Paris, and the four girls started off.

"We have to go home first," explained Ester. "Then we have a super place to go to."

"Where we can learn about mice and men and cabbages and kings," said Suzie.

"Like wow," said Bernie, "can we come with?"

"Course," said Suzie.


At 55 Lawson Street, Glen Hartwell, Suzie and Ester dropped their school bags on the sofa in the lounge, then Suzie called out, "Bye, Mum!"

"Hold on, girl," called Daisy Carmichael, "where are you running off to?"

"The gypsy encampment," said Bernadette Holliston.

"And who are these two pretty ladies?" asked Daisy.

Sighing from frustration, Ester said, "Our new friends until Adelaide, Lizzie, and Libby get back ...."

"Hey!" protested Paris. "You didn't tell us we were only temps?"

"Well ... I guess you can stay in our group full time."

"Then instead of the fabulous five, we'll be the magnificent seven," said Ester, having just seen the Yul Brynner movie recently.

"Ignore her, girls," teased Suzie, "she's only fifteen."

"Just a kid," said Bernie, making Suzie and Paris chortle with laughter.

"Enough of that," said Daisy, giving Ester, then Suzie, a kiss on the cheek.

"Mum, not in front of our new friend!" protested Suzie, before the girls headed back outside.

"I'd have been better off with boys," teased Daisy. "At least then I'd see them regularly, when they came over to get their washing done."

"Mum!" protested Ester as they headed outside.

An hour later, four very weary girls turned up at the edge of the Journeyers' camp outside the Southern end of Glen Hartwell.

"Ah, our beautiful young ladies have returned to listen to more tales of mice and men and cabbages and kings," said Emil, seeing the four girls.

"And who are your two pretty friends?" asked Yara, bringing over a pitcher of bright orange fluid and some plastic cups."

"Bernadette and Paris Holliston, ma'am," said Bernie.

"And very polite young ladies," said the busty blonde. Handing them each a plastic cup, she filled the cups with the orange fluid, saying, "Drink up, you all look overheated."

The four girls skoalled the drinks, then looked horrified.

"Oh, my God, what was that?" asked Suzie.

"Carrot juice is good, no?"

"Is good, definitely no," said Ester.

Then Emil Thorley sat at one of the dirty-looking wooden benches and asked, "So, who wants to hear a story of mice and men and cabbages and kings?"

"Me! Me! Me! Me! Me!" squealed the four girls bouncing around like Dodgem-goats again.

"Very well," said Emil, a huge, powerfully built man with a shining bald head, "it all started in the year 2385 AD."

"Hey, wait, that's in the future," pointed out Bernie. "How can you know what's gonna happen in the future?"

"I spend a lot of time with my good friend, Doctor Who," teased Emil, making the four girls squeal again and bounce up and down upon the wooden bench.

As he spoke, Emil reached into a cloth bag he wore around his neck, took out a pinch or two of spices and tossed them onto the fire, which flamed up at each pinch, until multi-coloured smoke wreathed from the flames.

"I can see faces in the smoke," said Bernie.

"Quiet, sis," said Paris Holliston.

"No, she is right," said Emil, "as I tell the story, the magic spices I throw into the fire will help us to see into the future."

So saying, he continued to describe an almost Jetsons-like future of flying cars, powered by fusion power, with buildings two- or even three-hundred-storeys high.

"Who would want to live so high up?" asked a sleepy-sounding Bernie.

"Yeah, you could never get out in case of a fire," muttered Paris.

"Ah, but everyone has a flying bubble-car," pointed out Emil. "So in case of fire, you fly away from the building to escape."

"How many this time?" asked the busty blonde, Yara.

"All four, this time," said Emil.

He threw a handful of the varicoloured powder into the fire, and it roiled up, engulfing the four teenagers. Then, when the smoke dissipated, the four girls were gone.

"What do we say if police return with doggies?" asked Yara.

"This time we admit all four girls were here," insisted Emil. "But we say they left again. Police never prove otherwise."

"Unless doggies say tracks lead to us, but do not lead away again," insisted Yara. "Maybe it is time for us to journey on again?"

"Then police know we are hiding something," pointed out Timothy, who had been watching the procedure. "If we stay, they may suspect, but cannot prove anything."

"Timothy is correct," insisted Emil, getting up from the bench. "We must stay for another three or four days at least."


NEW, NEW YORK, UNITED STATES 2385 AD

Suzie, Ester, Paris, and Bernie had passed out sitting upon a stationary bench. But when they came to a short time later, the ground was moving beneath them.

"Where are we?" asked a startled Ester, seeing only blue sky around her.

"On some kind of conveyor belt, I think," said Suzie.

She sat up and almost fell off the moving footpath into the seemingly bottomless sky below them.

"What the ...?" asked Paris, startled.

The blonde rolled over onto her hands and knees to tentatively look over the edge of the moving path.

"We seem to be on a conveyor belt high up in the sky."

"Are you four girls going to lie there all day?" asked a man in a smartly cut, bright silver business suit. "You're blocking the sidewalk."

"Blocking the what now?" asked Bernie Holliston.

"I think he means the footpath," said Suzie Carmichael. "Hey, Mister, nice threads, but where the heck are we?"

"On the skywalk, of course," said the man.

"On the what now?" asked Ester.

"The skywalk. In case you four female Rip Van Winkles have just awakened, in the twenty-fourth century, we use moving skywalks to get about, rather than taxing our muscles walking."

"Well, that makes sense," started Paris. Staring at the man, realising what he had said, she asked, "The what century?"

"The twenty-fourth century. 2385 AD, to be exact. But you can learn all of this at the History Museum," said the man, pointing toward a building perhaps a kilometre along the moving footpath.

"Hey, that looks a bit like the Sydney Opera House," said Bernie, pointing at the glass and chrome structure, including large, white, clam-shell-shaped overhangs. "Except for being about twenty storeys high."

"May I please step past you?" asked the man impatiently.

"If you're prepared to risk falling to your doom," said Ester, a little airsick for the first time in her life.

"That's why I'm wearing a portable jetpack," said the man in frustration, as though talking to imbeciles.

"Jetpack?" demanded Suzie. "Those things don't work! They just spin you around in circles, like a living Ferris Wheel."

"Really?" demanded the man, clearly now certain that they were imbeciles.

He pressed a green button on his belt and soared about four metres over the four girls' heads, then zoomed down over the walking footpath.

"Well, I'll be gobsmacked!" said Paris. "How did they make those things finally work?"

"Yeah, our dad always says they're a dumb idea that couldn't be made to work!" said Bernie. "And he worked for NASA for fifteen years before moving back to Australia!"

"Anyway, the oversized, Sydney Opera House is coming up," pointed out Ester. "So, how do we make this thing stop, so we can safely get off?"

"Stop!" said a mechanical voice, and the footpath stopped. "You have thirty seconds to disembark before Sidewalk starts again."

"Everybody off!" called Suzie, and the four girls leapt off the footpath and were almost up to the curved glass doors of the History Museum.

"Open says a me," said Ester, and the doors conveniently slid open.

"So, where the Hell are we?" asked Bernie.

"You are in the History Museum," said another mechanical voice.

"No, Doofus, what city are we in?" asked Paris.

"You are in New, New York. Built over the ruins of Old New York."

"That's a pity," said Ester, "because according to Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, every street's a boulevard in Old New York."

"Ignore her," said Suzie, "she's into goofy comedy."

Seeing a tall, thin, bespectacled brunette in a silver dress suit, the four girls walked across and asked, "How do we access info here?"

"Yeah, it's just a huge, empty white room," said Bernie. "Where are all the computers?"

"Computers?" asked the brunette, unable to resist laughing. "We haven't had mundane computers in here in nearly two hundred years."

"Then how do you access information?" demanded Ester.

"You use your Box, naturally."

The four girls exchanged looks, and then Suzie said, "I hope that doesn't mean what it did in 2025?"

"What box?" demanded Paris.

Sighing in frustration, the brunette held up her left hand to display a ring with what looked like a tiny white die, but without the dots.

"How does that tiny ring thingy help us?" asked Bernie.

Sighing again from frustration, the brunette said, "Box, tell them about yourself."

"My name is Box," said the hexagonal ring. "I belong to the Head Information Guide, and I tell her everything that she wants to know."

"Hey, nifty, how do we get one of those?" asked Ester.

"Do you have nearly two thousand dollar-yen each?"

"Dollar-yen?" asked Suzie. "What the heck is a dollar-yen?"

Sighing again, the Head Information Guide said, "Don't tell me you don't know that America invaded and conquered Japan over two hundred years ago under President Donald Trump?"

"Why the Hell did you do that?" demanded Paris.

"Mr. Trump said at the time, 'Because it's there, and I want it. I want it! I want it! I want it! I want it!' He was reportedly jumping up and down, clenching his fists at the time. Anyway, he declared it the fifty-fifth state of America, after Canada, Greenland, Australia, and the United Kingdom."

"Wow, Donald Dum-Dum got around, didn't he?' asked Ester.

"So, can we lend a Box?" asked Paris.

"Of course," said the brunette. She instructed her ring, "Box, seal this floor, and don't let our young friends out until they return the loaner Box."

"Understood, Head Information Guide," said Box.

They heard a series of whirring, buzzing sounds, then the Head Information Guide reached into a pocket of her silver dress suit, took out a box ring, and handed it to Suzie."

"Box, how do we get out of here? asked Suzie Carmichael.

"You cannot get out of here until you return me to the Head Information Guide," said Box in a mechanical voice.

"No, you great dingleberry," said Paris, "how do we get back to the 21st century? That's where we come from."

"My name is not Great Dingleberry, my name is Box."

"No, you ... No, Box," said Ester. "We came from June 30th, 2025 AD. How do we time travel back to our time?"

"New, New York did not exist in 2025 AD."

"No, we came from Glen Hartwell, Victoria, in Australia."

"You come from the fifty-third state of the union, on the last day of June 2025 AD?" queried Box.

"If you want to be pedantic, yes," said Bernie.

"Time travel has been possible for a hundred and fifty years now," said Box.

"Whoopee!" cried Suzie.

"But it will cost you a thousand dollar-yen."

"What?" demanded the four girls.

"A thousand dollar-yen each, that is."

"How much is that in Aussie dollars?" asked Paris.

"Australian dollars have not existed since America conquered Australia," explained Box. "They changed to U.S. dollars, then eventually to dollar-yen, like all two hundred states of America now use."

"I'm afraid to even ask who all the new states are?" said Bernie.


GLEN HARTWELL, AUSTRALIA 2025 AD

Over at 55 Lawson Street, Glen Hartwell on the 30th of June 2025, by seven o'clock, Daisy and Steven Carmichael were starting to get worried by the non-return of Suzie and Ester.

"Where can our beautiful little girls be?" asked Daisy, tearfully.

"You said they had two blonde girls with them?" asked Steven.

"Yes, they looked like twins. Paris and Bernie, I think they said."

"Could be the Holliston girls," said Steven, who worked with Eddy Holliston.

"Could you give them a ring?"


Over at 44 Vernier Street, Allie and Eddy Holliston were also worried by the non-appearance of Paris and Bernadette. They had already rung the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital, without success.

"Maybe we should ring the police?" asked Allie, a beautiful, curvaceous, white-blonde, thirty-eight years old.

"Maybe you're right," agreed Eddy. "He reached for his mobile phone, just as it rang. "Maybe this is about them now?"

"Oh God, don't let them be hurt!" said Allie, thinking: Or dead!

"Hello?" asked Eddy. He spoke for a moment, then hung up. "That was Steven Carmichael at 55 Lawson Street, it seems our girls traipsed off with his girls to some gypsy camp outside town, straight after school."

"I think it's time to ring the cops," said Allie.

Having disconnected, Eddy dialled triple-O.


"So what divine treats have you got for us tonight?" asked Sheila, as they sat down to tea at the yellow-clothed table at the Yellow House in Merridale.

"Well ..." began Deidre Morton, stopping as Terri's phone rang.

"Oh, no! She didn't even get to tell us what we're going to miss out on this time!"

"Relax, Sheils," said Colin. "I'm sure Mrs. M. will keep some of her magnificent cuisine for us to eat ... whenever we get back."

"It's not the same, having tea at midnight!" grumbled the Goth policewoman.

"It's happened again," said Terri, "four girls have vanished this time. Ester and Suzie Carmichael. Plus two new ones, Bernadette and Paris Holliston."

"The Hollistons live at 44 Vernier Street," said Sheila as the three cops got up to leave. "Please keep our food safe from Tommy, Mrs. M."

"Don't worry, I'll lock your share away in the fridge."

"Why does everybody assume I'm a greedy pig?" asked Tommy.

"He really doesn't know, does he?" asked Natasha.

"It seems not," agreed Leo Laxman.


"So around to see the parents first?" asked Colin, as they climbed into Terri's Lexus GX.

"No, around to see Don Frazer, to get a search warrant first, then around to see our Gypsy friends again."

"Journeyers," corrected Sheila, starting the car.

"They let us search without one before," reminded Colin.

"They might not this time."


An hour later, the Journeyers were seated around the campfire, roasting a side of lamb, when the three cars turned up: Terri's Lexus, Don Esk's rusty blue Land Rover, and Stanlee Dempsey's white Range Rover.

"Ah, our friendly local police," said Emil. "Come sit, eat, enjoy."

When Sheila started to do so, Terri called, "Sheils, stop ... This time we're here on an official visit!"

"Four more girls have gone missing," said Colin, handing large, glossy pictures of the girls to the huge, bald Journeyer.

"Yes, I recognise girls," said Emil. "Two of them came here before, and the two blonde girls also came today. I told them of mice and men and cabbages and kings, then they all left again."

Handing him the warrant signed by Don Frazer the local magistrate and Mayor of Glen Hartwell, Terri said, "This time we have legal permission to search your caravans and around the grounds."

"Is no need for warrant," said Emil, "you have our permission to search our caravans again."

"Good," said Terri.

This time, Colin, Don, and Stanlee led the three dogs, Slap, Tickle, and Rub, around the grounds in and beyond the campsite, while the remaining cops searched through the eleven brightly coloured horse-drawn caravans.

It was almost ten PM when a white van saying Glen Hartwell University arrived. Out alighted Geraldine Lewis, a tall, extremely thin, fifty-something woman with long raven hair. And half a dozen young adults or teenagers, each bearing what looked like an oversized metal detector.

"Are you planning to hunt for gold now?" asked busty blonde, Yara, puzzled.

"No, for human remains," said Geraldine, the head of the Science Wing of G.H.U., who had worked with Terri and the others before.

"You are thinking we kill poor girls and bury them around our camp?" asked Emil, sounding both shocked and offended.

"Well, all roads seem to lead to your camp ... not to Rome," said Terri.

By midnight, the Journeyers had retired to their caravans to sleep, leaving Terri and the others to keep searching the grounds. By dawn, the police and the Alsatian crosses were all yawning, ready for sleep also.

"I was certain we'd find them here," said a crestfallen Terri Scott as they reluctantly packed up and went home to sleep until the early afternoon.


Over at the full-sized Aussie Rules football field at the Glen Hartwell High School in Biblical Road and Howard Street, a dozen teenage boys were playing kick-to-kick football with ancient leather footballs. Coles' brand, rather than proper Sheridans.

"Hey," asked Teddy Collins, a tall, dark-haired boy of seventeen, "what happened to those half a dozen hot chicks who usually stand around watching our bums while we play?"

"Haven't you heard, bro?" asked Chester Collins, his fifteen-year-old brother, "those hot chicks have all vanished. Cops are looking everywhere for them."

"Oh, why must it always be the hot chicks who vanish?" demanded Clarence 'Clary' Prentice, a tall, blond sixteen-year-old boy, in line to be in the high school's official football team again that year.

"Yeah, why can't it be ugly old skanks like Germaine Queer, who vanish?" asked Micky Monkhouse, a seventeen-year-old redheaded boy.

"Because Germaine Queer would be more likely to be at a netball contest, checking out the young girls in tight shorts," said Teddy, making the boys all laugh.

"So, are you heading home soon?" asked Chester.

"Nah," said Clary, "we're heading on our bikes around to that Gypsy campsite outside town. We hear Gypsy chicks are all nymphos."

"You hear? Like Hell, you just made it up," insisted Teddy.

Nonetheless, all four boys rode off together, down Biblical Road, then out into the forest, until coming to the Journeyers' camp.

"So, you lot are Gypsies, right?" asked Teddy, as the four boys abandoned their bikes.

"No," said Emil. "We are journeyers. We travel all around the world, seeing all there is to see. And sometimes even more!"

"Then you must have lots of great stories to tell us?" asked Chester.

"Come sit, come sit," said Emil, indicating the dirty wooden benches ringing the campfire, "and I will tell you wondrous tales of mice and men and cabbages and kings."

Without further prompting, the four boys raced across to sit at the benches, as Emil began:

"In a far-off land, far, far beyond the Milky Way, there was a strange planet filled with a bizarre mixture of flora and fauna, flora-fauna even, where animal and plant life had begun to merge...."

As he spoke, he occasionally tossed a pinch of his varicoloured dust into the campfire. Each time the fire would flare up and reams of multi-coloured smoke roiled off, covering the entire campground, but strangely not blinding the boys, and not making them cough or struggle to breathe. Finally, a strange new world began to appear in the smoke, as though the boys were peering into a roiling crystal ball.

"How many, this time?" asked Yara.

"All four," said Emil, before continuing with his machinations.


NEW WORLD, DATE UNKNOWN

After passing out from the dream smoke, the four boys awakened in a new world. In this world, the sky was a pretty pink, the grass was yellow, and many animals had flowers or other plants growing out of them.

"Wow, look at the sky," said Teddy, "we must be tripping."

"No, last time I smoked weed, I never saw pink sky, nor yellow grass," said Clary. "Just pink elephants, and pale blue unicorns, which vomited rainbows!"

"Man, you must have really smoked some bad shit!" teased Chester.

At that moment, a cobalt blue toad, called a frode, with a lily growing out of its back, roared at the four boys before it hopped past them.

"A blue toad that roars," said Micky, "what do lions do in this place, croak?"

"Let's hope we never find out," said Chester, as the four boys tentatively climbed back to their feet.

"What'll we do now?" asked Clary, looking around.

Not far away, a purple river flowed past, with white and yellow fish the size of marlins leaping along as the 'water' flowed.

"Who wants a drink of purple water?" asked Teddy.

"Check that it is water first!" cautioned Chester.

Picking up a soft, emerald green rock, Teddy tossed it into the purple water, which immediately started to boil. After a few moments white and yellow 'marlin' started to float to the top of the river, clearly dead. And noxious fumes started to spew from the river.

"Run for your noses!" cried Micky.

Holding their noses, the four boys started running from the purple river. In the process, getting roared at again by another cobalt-blue frode that they almost stood upon.

As they ran, they reached a large orange rock, upon which sat a huge multicoloured butterfly, the size of a baseball catcher's mitt. Seeing the giant insect, a frode with a lily growing out of its back crept up behind the butterfly.

Spinning around, the butterfly whooshed out its tongue to plop onto the frode's head and reeled it in, slowly devouring the toad mouthful by mouthful as the toad roared in terror. Then, letting out a massive burp, the butterfly flapped its wings, flying away with difficulty, almost falling out of the air a couple of times.

"So now we have more to fear from carnivorous butterflies in this place than from lions?" asked a startled Clary.

"Don't wish a lime-green lion down upon us," said Chester.

"Down is right," said Teddy, "lions and tigers probably fly in this crazy place, while eagles and hawks run along the ground."

As though hearing him, a terrier-sized yellow rabbit with wings flew past. Seeing the two boys, it spat green slime at them.

"Watch out!" cried Micky, and the four boys leapt aside.

Instead, the green flying rabbit slime hit a lilac-coloured oak tree, melting through the trunk, so that the top two-thirds of the tree fell, rolled, and landed it the purple river ... Where, it immediately burst into flames.

"This place is fucking insane!" said Teddy.


NEW, NEW YORK, UNITED STATES 2385 AD

Suzie, Ester, Paris, and Bernie were still standing around in the bland white, featureless History Museum, trying to get information from Box.

"So how can we earn enough dollar-yen to time travel?" asked Suzie.

"We could always become prostitutes," suggested Paris half-heartedly.

"Human prostitution no longer exists," said Box. "Sex bots are now on every corner and cost a lot less than human women per hour."

"Damn computerisation and machines," said Bernie. "The Luddites were right, machines just put people out of work!"

"So, Box," asked Suzie, "what is the easiest way to earn enough dollar-yen to time travel back to the 23rd State of the Union in June 2025?"

"Since we are only teenagers," added Ester.

"Applying for a student loan ... Being wary though, due to the 23 Percent interest rate at the moment."

"I'm sure we can manage that," said Paris, thinking: Since we'll all be back in Glen Hartwell, with no intention of repaying the loan!

"How do we get a student loan?" asked Bernie.

"Take a DNA test to establish your age, and it will be granted," said Box, "I can do that, if you spit on your finger, then wipe the saliva onto me."

"Or we could just spit on Box," teased Paris

"Hey, not while it's on my hand," said Suzie.

An hour later, student loans had been arranged for all four girls, who had also been signed up for New, New York Carledge; school, starting next month.


GLEN HARTWELL, 2025

"Who will be next?" asked the busty blonde, Yara.

"We shall see," said Emil, falling off his bench around the campfire, as there was a great puff, like a mini explosion.

Then Suzie and Ester Carmichael, and Paris and Bernadette Holliston materialised in the campsite.

Squealing in terror at the sight of the Journeyers, the four girls ran out of the camp and almost fell over the four pushbikes left behind by the four boys.

"On the bikes," shouted Ester.

In no time, the four girls were racing back toward Glen Hartwell.

"After them, get the horses!" ordered Emil, climbing back to his feet.

Timothy and Sanjit both raced across the camp to where a dozen or so horses were tied up.


Having been alerted to the disappearance of the four boys, Terri and all of the Glen Hartwell police were on the way back to the journeyers' camp when they almost ran over the four girls fleeing on bikes.

Sheila screeched the Lexus to a halt, but Ester Carmichael could not stop and crashed into the police car, ending up flying onto the bonnet of the car, smashing the windscreen.

As Terri, Colin, and Sheila raced out to attend to Ester, Sanjit and Timothy raced into view, stopping as they saw the police.

As the Journeyers made to turn their horses to flee, Terri took out her handgun and fired two warning shots.

"Climb down, or I'll be forced to shoot you!" demanded the ash blonde.

The two men considered for a moment, then dismounted, allowing Colin and Alice Walker to handcuff them.

"Take the girls to the hospital, Alice," instructed Terri, "we'll go and arrest the rest of them."

"Be careful of that bag of powder he carries," warned Suzie, "it can send you back or forth in time."

"Anywhere except Glen Hartwell, I'd think they were delirious," said Colin.


At the campsite, Emil, Yara, and the others were awaiting the return of Timothy and Sanjit with the four teenage girls. Instead, Terri Scott and half a dozen police cars arrived.

"Don't worry," said Terri, "the girls are on their way to the hospital."

"With an interesting tale to tell of mice and men and cabbages and kings," said Colin.

As Emil reached for the cloth bag of varicoloured powder, Sheila grabbed it from him, saying, "No, I think we'd better take that. We don't want you vanishing in time ... or sending us back or forth in time."

"Now, how do we get everyone else you sent back or forth in time back to our time?" demanded Terri.

"Give me the powder and I will show you," said Emil.

"We're not idiots," said Sheila.

"Maybe after a month or so in a holding cell with nothing to eat except gruel and weevil-riddled sea biscuits, you might be more helpful," suggested Terri.

"You cannot hold us for more than twenty-four hours without charging us!" insisted Emil.

"In Melbourne, London, or New York," said Colin. "But out here, three hundred kilometres from Russell Street, we can do whatever the Hell we like!"


SHERWOOD FOREST, ENGLAND 1185 AD

Having been married to Will-O-Dale and two other Merry men, Adelaide Donadin, Lizzie Chong, and Libby Whyte had decided that life in the twelfth century wasn't so bad after all.

"Nothing to do except eat, sleep, and be friendly to our hubbies at night," said Adelaide, "what a life."

"And to think we wanted to stay in Glen Hartwell," said Lizzie.

"Yeah, what kind of idiots were we?" agreed Libby.

Suddenly, there was a loud puff, and smoke began to billow ....


GLEN HARTWELL, AUSTRALIA 2025 AD

And the girls found themselves back in the lounge room at Adelaide Donadin's home at 55 Lawson Street.

"Forsooth, we have returneth," said Adelaide.

"Oh, my God, what is she saying?" asked Abigail Donadin.

"Verily, they asketh us the same thing in Sherwood, fair Damsel," said Adelaide.

"Whatever's happened has affected her mind," said Abigail.

"Nah, I'm just taking the Mick," said Adelaide with a toothy grin.


NEW WORLD, DATE UNKNOWN

In the new world, Teddy and Chester Collins, Clary Prentice, and Micky Monkhouse suddenly found themselves surrounded by a herd of animals the size of large terriers, but looking like zebras. Other than their shark-like fangs.

"Zood! Zood!" cried the creatures, naming themselves as they closed in upon the terrified boys.

"This is not good!" said Clary.

Then there was a loud puff, scaring away the herd of zood, and the boys vanished in a puff of smoke.


GLEN HARTWELL, AUSTRALIA 2025 AD

To appear in the Journeyers' camp, now controlled by Terri Scott and the Glen Hartwell Police.

"There, we have given you back all of your children," said Emil surlily, as though he thought he was a victim, not a culprit.

"All the children whom you have ever stolen!" insisted Terri Scott.

"All?" asked Emil, sounding shocked. "Very well."

He continued his ritual, and soon the forest was awash with six hundred children from infants to late teens in age. Black children, white, olive, red, modern, dressed as though from the Middle Ages, and some dressed in animal skins with a definite Neanderthal or Cro Magnon look to them.

Seeing their shocked looks, Emil laughed, then said, "Well, you did ask for all of them. Now we must leave."

Staring in shock at the hundreds of children, none of the police tried to stop Emil as he and his Journeyers hitched their horses to their wagons and left the forest.

"What the Hell are we gonna do with so many unexplained kids?" asked Alice Walker.

"We'll have to contact Russell Street," suggested Wendy Pearson.

"And have them experiment upon the Neanderthals and Cro Magnons?" asked Colin.

"No, we can't do that," agreed Terri.

"Maybe we can get the old ... the middle-aged bloke to take them into his tribe?" suggested Sheila Bennett.

"Okay," said Terri, "so we take the modern kids to the Glen Hartwell and Daley Crèche ...."

"Where is that?" asked Suzette Cummings.

"At the moment, they think they're a hospital, but they're about to discover otherwise," teased the blonde cop.

Over the next few hours, they used all of their police cars, plus all six of Glen Hartwell's ambulances, to ferry nearly 450 children to the already crowded hospital. Then they had to bring Bulam-Bulam, a sixty-six-year-old elder from the Gooladoo Tribe outside Harpertown, to the encampment to show him the prehistoric children.

"We didn't know what else to do with them," said Terri to the grey-haired Elder, a close friend of theirs and a pro rata police tracker when needed.

"We were afraid Russell Street might send them somewhere for testing, and possibly dissection," explained Colin Klein.

"Of course, we'll take them in," said Bulam-Bulam. Our tribe needs new blood anyway, so it'll be good for us, as well as for them. Also, I don't want them being experimented upon, or sent to Australia's equivalent of Area 51."

"Do we have an equivalent of Area 51 in Australia?" asked Sheila.

The grey-haired Elder could only shrug, then say, "Let's hope not!"


THE NATIONAL GALLERY, LONDON

"I'm sorry," said Dr. Gabriele Finaldi, the director of the National Gallery since 2015. "But to the best of my knowledge and examination, the three horsemen in the picture have always had maidens on the horses with them."

"Then where are the maidens now?" demanded Divya Khan, pointing behind the director.

Turning to look, Dr. Finaldi stared in shock at the painting ... in which the three horsemen still rode their horses across Sherwood Forest, but no longer carrying teenaged maidens with them.

"Where are the maidens now?" repeated Divya.

THE END
© Copyright 2025 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia