No Other Story by Dr. Cuthbert Soup Read Free Book Online Page A

their furry blankets. What they next observed was just how little this cave resembled a prehistoric home. Hanging across the length of the far wall was a string of lights, the kind you might expect to find on a Christmas tree or a backyard patio.
    In the middle of the dirt floor was a fire pit, and spacedevenly around the pit were four leather chairs that looked as though they had been pulled from an automobile. Adorning the walls were cave drawings, the type often seen in a history book, except that these paintings were not dull and faded. They appeared freshly made, the colors strikingly brilliant. Among them were a scene depicting a herd of antelope; another of a group of people gathered in a circle, presumably dancing; and one crudely drawn image of a man on a sled being pulled by a mechanical dog.
    Chip and the stranger gently lowered Ethan to the floor next to the pit, where a fire was in its last stages but still gave off plenty of heat from the glowing embers that remained. The man motioned to the chairs and said, “Grab a seat.”
    â€œYou can talk,” said Chip.
    The man seemed amused by this. “Of course I can talk,” he said.
    Penny sunk into one of the bucket seats and tucked her knees up to her chin. Chip, Teddy, and the professor took the three remaining chairs. Teddy leaned forward and held his hands above the fire pit. He found the sensation surprisingly unpleasant; the warming of his hands was accompanied by a dull ache as the flesh slowly came back to life.
    â€œWell,” said Chip, “it’s just that you hadn’t said anything up until now.”
    The man removed his sunglasses. Beneath them his eyes were dark, and held a look of mischief, malice, or both. Chip could not decide. “I like to think before I speak,” he said.
    â€œYou mean, like, for a whole hour?” Teddy asked.
    The man said nothing, but did appear to be thinking as he shed his hat and coat, revealing a slim frame tucked into modern clothes: well-worn jeans and a dark blue polo shirt. His hair was a wild mess of blond curls. “If that’s what it takes to get it right, dude,” he said.
    â€œDude?” said Chip, more to himself than anyone else.
    â€œThank you for saving us,” said Penny. “But as you can see, our father’s been badly injured. Is there a hospital nearby?”
    â€œAnd try not to think about it too long,” chirped Gravy-Face Roy. The snide remark earned him a flick on the head from Penny, who was growing ever more weary of having to apologize for her little brother and his ill-mannered sock puppet.
    â€œSorry about that. My brother has a habit of never thinking before he speaks. Unlike yourself, Mister …”
    â€œJones,” the man said. “Name’s … John Jones.”
    John Jones? Is that the best he could do? thought Chip. Whoever this guy was, he could use some lessons in coming up with fake names.
    Using their own phony names, Penny and the others introduced themselves to the so-called Mr. Jones, and did so quickly, as they were anxious to get back to more important things. “The hospital,” Penny said. “Is there one close by?”
    â€œNearest one’s in London,” said Jones. “Usually about ten miles from here.”
    â€œUsually?” said the professor. Such a statement onlymade sense in the context of Some Times, where things seemed to change at a moment’s notice.
    â€œYeah; once in a while it’s a little farther. But certainly no more than fifteen miles. Twenty-five tops. If it’s more than thirty, I’d be surprised.”
    It was quickly becoming apparent that accuracy was not one of Mr. Jones’s strong suits.
    â€œBut it’s, like, early 1500s London,” he continued. “Sometimes mid-1500s, so that’s probably not your best bet. Could end up with, like, a face full of leeches. Next closest hospital’s in Baltimore in the 1970s, so the