The crowd went crazy. They had never seen such an audacious move before.
“Oceanus! Oceanus! Oceanus!”
Luke bent over and put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He turned to look at Vulcan, who was not moving.
“Is Vulcan dead?” shouted the announcer through his megaphone. “Or is he a faker? Let us find out for sure.”
The guy dressed as Mars came out again with his red-hot poker. He touched it to Vulcan’s back. The big man twitched and screamed in pain.
“Vulcan is not yet dead!” shouted the announcer. That riled up the crowd even more.
“Finish him off, Oceanus!”
“Iugula! Iugula! Iugula!” chanted the crowd.
Luke looked at Vulcan on the ground. Then he shook his head and flipped his sword up in the air the way baseball players flip their bats.
“Boooooo!”
“Why is Oceanus reluctant to kill?” somebody shouted.
“Boooooo!”
“You people are sick,” Luke yelled, but nobody could hear him over the noise.
He staggered back to the gate, where Fred the Red was waiting.
“You fought bravely,” he told Luke. “You put on a good show and pleased the citizens. More than that, you pleased the gods.”
Fred the Red placed a laurel crown of victory on Luke’s head and handed him a palm branch.
“That’s it?” asked Luke. “For winning I get a piece of a tree? Am I at least free to go now?”
“Free to go?” Fred the Red said with a laugh. “If you continue to fight bravely for three years, and then, if the gods have mercy, you may be freed. May.”
CHAPTER 14MEANWHILE, BACK IN BOSTON . . .
MISS Z AND MRS. VADER HAD NO IDEA WHAT WAS happening in Pompeii. They had been going about their morning, making phone calls, answering emails, drinking coffee, and doing all those other routine things that grown-ups do.
Miss Z spent some time on the phone with a real estate developer who had expressed interest in her idea, which now had a name—the Museum of Historic Photography, or MOHP. Washington, DC, seemed to be the perfect location for the museum, a block from the National Air and Space Museum.
“Yes, I’ll have photos of historic events that have never been seen before,” she said excitedly into the phone. “You’re going to be amazed.”
With the photo of the Titanic up on her wall, Miss Z had renewed enthusiasm for her museum. In an hour, the Flashback Four would be delivering another photo for the collection—Mount Vesuvius blowing its top in the year 79. Miss Z could barely contain her excitement. She was already brainstorming about other historic photos she could get—Washington crossing the Delaware. America’s Founding Fathers signing the Declaration of Independence. Leonardo da Vinci painting the Mona Lisa. The possibilities were endless. She could send the Flashback Four back to prehistoric times to take the first and only photograph of a living dinosaur!
Mrs. Vader glanced at her watch. It was 11:20 in Pompeii time. The kids had left for Pompeii at exactly 10:15. They had two hours to scope out the town, find a location, and take the photo of the mountain exploding at noon. At 12:15, it would be time to bring them back home. Plenty of time.
“Do you think we should send a text to Isabel to see how the kids are doing?” Mrs. Vader asked her boss.
“I don’t want to pester them too much,” Miss Z replied. “You know the way children are. Leave them be. Isabel is a big girl. She’ll get in touch if they need us.”
Mrs. Vader let some time go by, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the Flashback Four. It seemed like it had been quite a while since Isabel had reported in. Mrs. Vader checked the computer. The last communication from Isabel had been EVERYTHING GOING SMOOTHLY. LOOKING FOR PERFECT PHOTO LOCATION.
She resolved to stop worrying. She checked to see if the mail had arrived, and paid a few bills. When those tasks were completed, there was nothing else that needed to be done.
“I really think we should text the kids,” she told Miss Z.
“Okay, okay,” Miss Z replied. “If you say so. Go ahead.”
EVERYTHING STILL GOING SMOOTHLY? Mrs. Vader typed.
She watched the screen to read the response when it came back.
There was no response.
“Isabel usually replies right away,” Mrs. Vader said a little nervously.
“Be patient,” Miss Z told her. “I’m sure she’ll text back in a few seconds.”
A few seconds passed. There was no reply.
“They must be busy,” Miss Z said. “Give it a few minutes and then try again.”
Mrs. Vader went to the other side of the office to replace the filter in the coffee machine. That killed a few minutes. Then she came back to the computer.
YOU KIDS OK? she texted.
Nothing. No response. Now both of them were getting nervous.
“This isn’t like Isabel,” Miss Z said.
“Maybe the TTT is broken,” Mrs. Vader guessed.
“It’s worked like a charm up until now,” replied Miss Z. “Try again.”
Mrs. Vader typed another text.
ISABEL?
As you know, reader, this entire effort was useless. They could try a million times and the result would be the same. The TTT had been snatched away from Isabel and crushed after the Flashback Four were grabbed on the street in Pompeii. But Miss Z and Mrs. Vader didn’t know that.
“Something must have gone wrong,” Miss Z said, in the understatement of the year.
Silently, she imagined all the things that could have happened. The kids might have lost the TTT. Maybe they dropped it in water again and it was ruined. Or the extreme heat of Pompeii had caused the battery to drain. Maybe they had been pickpocketed again. Anything could have happened.
It did not cross Miss Z’s mind that maybe the Flashback Four had been forced into slavery and Isabel and Julia were chained to a wall in a Pompeii dungeon while Luke and David were being forced to fight for their lives as gladiators.
Mrs. Vader checked the time again. It was eleven thirty in Pompeii.
