Cass was crouched low, stroking a palm-sized green lizard in his hand. “Hey, look! It’s not afraid of me!”
Aly crouched beside him. “She’s cute. She can be our mascot. Let’s call her Lucy.”
Cass cocked his head. “Leonard. I’m getting more of a he-vibe.”
“Uh, dudes?” Marco looked exasperated. “I’m getting a go-vibe. Come on.”
Cass gently put Leonard in his backpack. We continued walking toward the city, hidden by the trees. It was the height of the day and the sun beat mercilessly. Through the branches I glanced at the farm. Carts rested on the side of yellow mud-brick buildings. I figured the farmers must have been napping.
Cass sniffed the air. “Barley. That’s what they’re growing.”
“How do you know?” Marco asked. “Were you raised on a farm?”
“No.” Cass’s face clouded. “Well, sort of. I lived on one for a couple of years. An aunt and uncle. Didn’t work out too well.”
“Sorry to hear it,” Marco said.
Cass nodded. “No worries. Really.”
As they walked on ahead, I glanced at Aly. Questioning Cass about his childhood was never a good idea. “I’m worried about Cass,” she confided, lowering her voice. “He thinks his powers are dwindling. And he’s so sensitive about everything. Especially his past.”
“At least he’s got us. We’re his family now,” I said. “That should give him strength.”
Aly let out a little snort. “That’s a scary thought. Four kids who might not live to see fourteen. We’re about as dysfunctional as it gets.”
Ahead of us, Marco had put an arm around Cass’s shoulder. He was telling some story, making Cass laugh. “Look,” I said, gesturing with my chin. “Dysfunctional, maybe, but don’t they look like a big brother and little brother?”
Aly’s worried expression turned into a smile. “Yeah.”
As we neared the edge of the pine grove, we were all dripping sweat. Cass and Marco had pulled ahead, and they were now crouched by a pine tree at the edge of the grove. We gathered next to them. No one had noticed us. No one was near. So we could take in a long, clear view of the city.
Babylon sprawled out from both sides of the river. Its wall was surrounded by a moat, channeled from the river itself. A great arched gate, leading into a tunnel, breached the wall far to our left. Outside that gate, a crowd had gathered at the moat’s edge. They were almost all men. Their tunics had more folds than ours, with thicker material bordered in a bright color.
“We didn’t get the garb right,” Aly said.
“We look like the poor relatives,” Cass remarked.
“It is what it is,” Marco said. “Let’s walk like we belong.”
As we stepped out from the trees, I noticed that Cass was chewing gum. “Spit that out!” I said. “You weren’t supposed to bring stuff like that.”
“But it’s just gum,” Cass protested.
“Hasn’t been invented yet,” Aly said. “We don’t want to look unusual.”
Cass reluctantly spat a huge wad of gum into the bushes. “In two thousand years, some archaeologist is going to find that and decide that the Babylonians invented gum,” he muttered. “You making me spit that out may have changed the future.”
We all followed Marco out of the trees and onto the desert soil. As we approached the city wall, the crowd grew loud and raucous. They’d formed a semicircle with their backs to us, shouting and laughing. Some of them scooped rocks off the ground. Three men stood guard, facing outward, looking blankly off in to the distance. They wore brocaded tunics with bronze breastplates and feathered helmets. They looked powerful and bored.
“Behold Babylon,” Marco whispered.
“Just past Lindenhurst,” Cass whispered back. “That’s the Long Island Railroad. Babylon line. Massapequa, Massapequa Park, Amityville, Copiague, Lindenhurst, and Babylon. I can do them backward if—”
A horrible scream interrupted Cass. It came from the center of the crowd, and a second later, the men all roared with approval. Instinctively we stopped. We were about sixty or seventy yards away, I figured, but no one was paying us any mind. I could see a couple of boys racing toward the crowd with armfuls of stones. As the people ran to grab some, a gap opened in the semicircle. Now I could see what was inside—or who. It was a small, wiry man in a ragged tunic with a thick purple border. He was cowering on the ground, covering his head with his hands and bleeding.
The color drained from Aly’s face. “They’re stoning him. We have to do something!”
“No, because then they’ll stone us,” Cass said, “and we’ll be dead before we’re born.”
Staggering to his feet, the bloodied man shouted something to the crowd. Then he took a step backward, yelped, and disappeared—downward, into the moat.
I heard a splash. Another scream, worse than any we’d heard so far. The crowd was standing over the moat, peering down. Some bellowed with laughter, continuing to throw rocks into the water. Some turned away, looking ill.
From behind us I heard the sound of wheels crunching through soil. The men in the mob began turning toward the sound, falling silent. A few dropped to their knees. We did the same.
A four-wheeled chariot rolled into sight along the packed-dirt road. It was pulled by four men in loincloths, and the driver wore a maroon-colored cloak. Behind him, on a cushioned throne, sat a withered-looking man dressed in a brocaded robe. He wore a fancy helmet encrusted with jewels, which made his thin face and pointed beard look ludicrous.
As the chariot neared the moat, the crowd and the guards bowed to the ground. The slaves trotted the vehicle over the bridge, the king glancing briefly down into the water as he passed.
If he saw anything horrifying, it didn’t register on his face. He yawned, leaned back into his seat, and waved lazily to the crowds who dared not look at him.
“Is that King Nascar Buzzer?” Marco asked.
“Nebuchadnezzar,” I said. “Maybe.”
“I don’t think so,” Aly said. “I think it’s Nabu-na’id. I did some calculations. This ripping apart of time had to start somewhere. Before the split, our time and Ancient Babylon time were in sync. And I figure that was around the sixth century B.C. Which is about the time that the Hanging Gardens were destroyed. During the reign of Nabu-na’id. Also known as Nabonidus.”
“Okay, maybe this is a dumb question, but why are there ruins?” Marco said. “If Babylon time-shifted, wouldn’t the whole city have just disappeared? So what are those rocks we see back in the twenty-first century?”
“It must be like matter and antimatter,” Aly said. “The two parallel worlds existed together. Babylon continued to exist at regular speed and at one-ninetieth speed. And we are the only ones who can see both of them.”
As the king disappeared through the gate, a guard rushed out toward us. He shouted back over his shoulder, and another two followed.
Soon six of them were racing our way. “Look unthreatening,” Marco said.
“We’re kids,” Aly replied.
“I