The Basket Barge was Bones’ old, beat-up bike he had bought for fifteen dollars and used to deliver the newspaper on the weekends. That life felt almost unreal now. Back then, all we had to do was deliver newspapers and record bike rides, not evade ruthless criminals while trying to find the cure to cancer. 

Bones came over to where I was still lying on the train floor like a doofus and he gave me a hand up, his long, orangutan arms pulling me off the floor easily, then he pried the phone out of my death grip. I was starting to feel like I was in some weird modern-day Lord of the Rings; whenever I held the phone, I felt this overwhelming sense of fear and panic.

We had to find a cure for cancer to save Bones’ life, and we needed to figure it all out right now. 

The lights from the next station cut through the darkness, bouncing off the train’s windows and illuminating the white walls inside our car. We had to do something, but luckily, Bones was as calm as if we were on a school field trip to the Big Apple. 

“So, you just enter the code, Lump?” Bones asked, already typing in the code. Of course he already had the code memorized. “And then what do you do? Hit the transport button and that sends us back to the Ridgewood train station four hours ago?” 

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