Adal and The Time Travelers: Hall of Doors, #7

By zachary chopchinski

A journey to the past will devastate the future.
 

The team must go back in time to World War II to find the next piece of the suit. When they get dropped into the middle of a war zone in one of history's most notorious battles, the team must get their bearings and stay alive long enough to solve the puzzle.

 

But war isn't the only thing waiting for them.

 

The Creators have sent Pajak back in time to stop them and with Maza's health declining, and Ypsilon on a rampage, the team needs to get what they came for before things get worse. When they learn that the Senate is also hot on their heels, they team up with the notorious 761 tank battalion. Can they complete their mission and save, not only Maza, but all of humanity?

• Language: English
• Publisher: zachary chopchinski
• Release date: Jun 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215297452

Book preview

Adal

And The

Time Travelers

––––––––

Zach Chopchinski

http://zachchop.com

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Adal and The Time Travelers

Copyright © 2022 Zachary Paul Chopchinski

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

For information address Books & Bow Ties Publishing, 4844 E. Michigan St, Orlando, FL. 32812 www.zachchop.com

Adal and The Time Travelers/Zachary P. Chopchinski—1st ed. Printed in the United States of America.

May 2023

Published by Books & Bow Ties Publishing

Orlando, FL.

Edited by Megan Cutler

Cover design by Molly Phipps, We’ve Got You Covered Book Designs

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Praise For

Adal and The Time Travelers

A compelling narrative filled with action, suspense, and high-stakes dilemmas.

-Google Books Review

Acknowledgements

I’d like to thank the usual suspects for helping to make this book what it is. Thank you to my editor, Megan Cutler, for being so patient and understanding. To my cover designer, Molly Phipps, for continuing to crush each cover as if she pulled the images out of my brain. Thank you to Lexi Clark for the amazing illustrations. Thank you to my readers for following me in this crazy journey and to my family for the support.

For the girls. Thank you for keeping my spark alive.

Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them. — George Eliot

More from Zach

The Gabrielle’s Adventure Through Time Series:

The Curious Tale of Gabrielle

Gabrielle and The Hounds of Arawn

Gabrielle and The War of The Gods

Gabrielle and Arawn’s Penance

The Hall of Doors Series:

Webley and The World Machine

Kip and The Grinders

Arija and The Burning City

Ypsilon and The Plague Doctor

Van and The Demon Army

Kip and The Bloody Red

Adal and The Time Travelers

Maza and The Pyramids

Molly and The Hunted

The Tinkerers and The Golden City

Others:

From Now On: The Last Words Anthology

Contents

Prey

Throwback

The Gang’s All Here

Friends in Low Places

Out for a Stroll

Same Old Fight

The Beast Within

761st Tank Battalion

An old friend

A New Friend

A Child Among Gods

Life is a Game

Goodbye

Lawrence

Last Stretch To Freedom

Berlin

The Missing Piece

The Fall of A Warrior

Heartbreak

Revenge is Best Served With A Side of Crazy

Eigen, The Ukufa Assassin

Welcome To Taraveil

Poet

Mecca

Memories

A Tekaha Funeral

Feelings Are Hard

How To Grieve

The Assassin

Betrayal

Old Habits Die Hard

The Helmet

Duat

1

Prey

It was somewhat cathartic to be a predator sitting amongst prey. Fear and the sense of self-preservation didn’t exist. The predator held all the cards. They alone dictated who would survive and who would die.

This was not one of those times.

In fact, if Pajak was completely honest, he had never felt so alone in his life. 

Pajak had always been a survivor, so being aware of every threat was a key part of every day. He scanned the group surrounding him and let his gaze linger on the chair that belonged to their host, the only creature who truly terrified him. 

He ran one thin, metallic finger up and down the sleeve of his leather jacket, idly playing with the spider web pattern embossed in the thick fabric. Pajak thought back to the war between him and Webley when the World Machine was just created. The screams uttered during the deaths of his men at the hands of Webley and the other Creators during the Great Divide filled Pajak’s mind. Their cries accompanied Pajak with every wisp of wind, breath of word, and static thought. They were his madness.

Pajak had grown accustomed to drowning out the cries of the dead with the boiling rage he felt as a result of the loss of his brothers. Using this hatred, he suppressed the voices to focus on the present. He forced his gaze towards his hands on top of the polished gold table top.

Earlier this morning, Pajak had been summoned by a scout and brought to this place in secrecy. Now he sat at a table surrounded by creatures from all over the galaxy. Each surveyed their surroundings as they waited for the Creator to enter the room. Each had the same look in their eyes.

Prey.

Pajak didn’t recognize most of the creatures. Some were humanoid, others were grotesque monsters. A large creature with multiple mouths sat at the far end of the table, his many tongues flicking from his lips like a snake. Pajak eyed another creature he believed was an angel based on the aura surrounding him and his huge white wings. A confident smile peaked around his red beard as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

The only people he truly recognized were the two Senate members from the planet Taraveil. He’d had run-ins with Elo and Elver in the past, and it seemed their work was impressive enough to warrant a meeting with the Creators. 

Pajak studied the room and rolled his eyes. It was exactly as he would have expected it to be; obsessively ornate, featuring varying shades of polished gold and surfaces that exuded a sense of warmth despite being unfathomably cold, and excessively oversized to accommodate the larger nature of the Creators.

Pajak had spent his whole life with Webley and, based on what he knew of the annoyingly jolly giant, none of what he saw here surprised him. 

A faint tickle in Pajak’s feet pulled his attention back towards the door. Someone was coming.

Pajak scanned the group as, one by one, each member realized what he already knew. He couldn't stop the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth at the looks of terror that spread through the room. He suspected that most, if not all, the creatures in the room had never been in the presence of a Creator.

Except him. He knew what they could do and, truthfully, his companions’ fear was entirely justified. Any Creator could turn the entirety of this room into blood and bone in a matter of milliseconds. The only reason Pajak could avoid visibly shaking was that he knew the extent of their power. 

If the Creators wanted them all dead, they would be already. 

No, the Creators needed everyone in this room. They served a purpose. And for that reason, Pajak held his head high as the door handle turned.  

The table shook as several creatures rose to their feet.

Pajak remained seated.

Several large golden figures appeared in the open doorway. The leviathan-sized sentries marched into the room as light glinted off their solid gold bodies. Silence gripped the space as the sentries took their positions along the side of the room. 

Each creature bore a large projectile weapon cradled across their torso, and their hands rested on the firing mechanisms. Their faces were hidden behind their armored helmets, but Pajak could still see the eyes of the Creators through their facades. He reached one of his spider appendages down to the knife on his belt. He had met them, long ago, in battle.

As the remainder of the squadron marched to their posts around either side of the room, three more figures appeared in the meeting room entrance. These three Creators were different. They wore ornate robes instead of armor. Jewels were braided intricately into their long, lush beards. These Creators emanated entitled prowice and power over their armored counterparts. Pajak gave a slight nod as he compared their composition to that of Webley. He could see the family resemblance.

The Creator in the center of the triad stopped just short of the table, silently scanning the occupants. There is a time and place for all assortments of action. Since the beginning of time, each action came at the precise moment it was intended. Those ignorant to the truth will call these sorts of occurrences fate. I am here to tell you that these things, and all things, come to pass at our will.

The Creator clasped his hands together in front of him. Even your presence here today is at the order of our council. The words which I speak, though not directly in any tongue, are heard by each of your ears and understood, as we have intended.

Pajak glanced around the table as each creature watched in complete amazement while the Creator spoke. He rolled his eyes.  

Further, the Creator continued, even you and your entire world’s continued existence is contingent upon our say. I tell you this as I prepare you for a decision that you will make on this day. For we are the Synod, and we call you forth to do our bidding for a most fortunate opportunity.

There it was. Pajak knew what they wanted without needing to hear more.

They were here for Webley and his collaborators.

The Creator let his gaze bounce across each creature at the table. Each of you have been chosen for your unique talents. His gaze paused on Pajak. We are looking for something. The specifics are not important. Just know if you do not bring us what we want, it will not end well for you. 

Pajak, the Creator said, and the attention of the room turned towards him. You each will be sent to a different world in search of a piece of a weapon. Pajak you're up first. Come with me so you can be briefed on the details of your mission. 

Pajak slid his hand away from the knife at his belt and crossed his arms over his chest, a wide smile spreading across his lips.

2

Throwback

What? Kip shouted above the constant thunder of gunfire.

Throw it back! Adal screamed.

The Dweller boy grabbed the metal tube that landed on the ground between them. He threw the object out the nearby window. The pipe bomb barely made it a few feet away before it exploded.

Adal dove to the ground as pieces of glass and wood rained on the otherwise empty room.

Kip released a string of expletives before reaching up and firing several shots from his pistol at their attackers.

Adal shook the ringing from his ears as best he could. Luckily, his mouth was open to shout at Kip or he might have burst his eardrums as the pressure from the blast tore through the small space.

Bullet holes peppered the wall to Adal’s side, allowing more of the morning sun into their hiding place. They were under heavy fire, and Adal still didn’t know exactly where they were. All he knew was the team had gotten separated when they jumped through the portal on the Historian’s ship. The Historian said they were going to Earth, but that was all the information they had been given. 

During a lull in the shooting, Adal heard Ypsilon’s distant swears. She and Van were close. He listened for signs of Arija and Maza, but he heard nothing. 

Less than an hour ago, he’d landed in this empty, barebones room that looked like a stiff wind could knock it over and the shooting started instantly. The only things in the room were a table, a metal bed frame with an uncomfortable looking old mattress, and an old black and white picture of a family hanging on the wall. Based on the clothing they wore, Adal guessed that they’d come back to one of the world wars. He thought back to his history class, but he couldn't remember enough about either war to take a guess.

Pressing up from the floor, Adal peered through one of the holes to seek anything worthy of shooting. All he saw were shifting silhouettes and a scattering of dead bodies. The bodies wore gray uniforms and steel-looking helmets. Adal pressed the muzzle of his rifle to one of the new holes. Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.

Adal squeezed the trigger and held on as the weapon shook in his hands. Flashes of light and smoke plumed around the hole as he sent a stream of projectiles at their attackers. To his surprise, three of the figures dropped to the ground and out of sight behind a partially demolished brick wall.

You think you got them? Kip asked while ducking to reload his pistol.

Adal shrugged. Not sure, but here’s hoping.

The shouting outside intensified in the frenzy. Peering through the holes, Adal noticed their opponents had begun to focus their shots on two spots: the house he and Kip occupied, and a large barn across the property.

Maybe the rest of the team are in there, Adal whispered.

A crash echoed from the hallway outside the room. The door to their fortress was barricaded with a small table wedged against the entrance. The table had already been there when they landed, but there was no sign as to who might have put it there.

Adal turned, pressed his back against the wall, and prepared for combat with whoever came through the door. An explosion made him squeeze his eyes shut as a hole the size of his chest burst through the wall near the window. Kip lunged aside, landing with a sharp jab in Adal’s lap. The small boy’s metal body dug into Adal in all the wrong places.

You mind? Adal grunted, tucking the palm of his hand between his legs as he gasped for air. 

Kip rose from Adal’s lap. Sorry! He shrugged. Trying to keep that hole away from my head!

If I have to choose between your head and my junk, you might want to start selling your newsboy hat collection. Adal turned back to their main line and fired more rounds through the larger hole. Kip crawled back to the window and did the same. 

Adal squinted through the smoke as he tried to see what could have made such a large hole with so much power and precision, but he couldn’t see much except shifting shapes. From what he could tell, they looked to be somewhere in the countryside. To one side of the field that dominated the property, Adal could see rolling hills and a line of trees.  

How much longer do you figure we have here? Kip asked.

Adal shrugged as he loaded more rounds into his rifle. Dunno, but we aren’t going to sit here all day and figure it out. We need to get out of this room. We need a new location, the surprise factor, and better odds.

Kip nodded. 

Slowly, Adal rolled away from the wall as Kip