Chapter 2: The Newspaper Taxi

Just brilliant it was, huh. Today we got a sold-out concert, destroyed instruments, and some letter that makes no sense. Could a Beatle's life get any weirder?

I finally decided to get off my arse and ask, "Are you sure we're going John? That piece of paper doesn't seem legit to me. It could be a phony, and when we get to the Dakota we could be kidnapped, or harassed, or even-"

"Quiet, McCartney. You're acting more protective than Aunt Mimi."

"But I mean, err, uh, oh forget it! Let's just vote. All in favor of going . . .?" John held up his hand right away, followed by George, took Ringo quite a while, and that left me, just standing there.

"Oh fine. But if we all get in trouble, I'm not getting any of it."

"Come on Paul," George said. "It's a good and fun risk. Besides, we'll protect each other."

"I agree with George," Ringo added.

"Alright, little girls! If we're going, we better leave now. If the building isn't open yet, we just sleep through it. Oh, and bring your instruments and everything else you need."

"Our broken instruments? John, what the hell will we do with these?" I asked.

"Aww, don't worry. I bet they still have a good sound to them," John strummed his guitar. We all covered our ears in pain and the last remaining glass shard on the broken window fell off.

"Well, that was worse than I expected, but we could probably get it fixed somewhere," I noticed that John was acting rather positive and cheerful.

Yeah, sure, we could still fix a guitar cut in half and some squished drums, I thought.

…...

So we all packed our stuff (only because John said he would kick our arses if we didn't). I actually brought normal stuff unlike the others, and some toiletries. George's bag was obviously packed with food, and Ringo grabbed anything important he found in the apartment. John barely packed anything even though he forced the rest of us to, but offered to carry our instruments. I guessed it was a fair share, though. That boy could carry all of us on one pinky and still punch a bloke with his free hand.

Then I suddenly realized, "But what about Eppy, Mal and the others? It won't be long before they find out that we've gone."

"Well I'll take my chances," John said.

We tip-toed one by one out of the apartment and shut the door, hoping no one would get suspicious. Then we ended up arguing if we should take the stairs or the elevator, but we ended up taking the stairs anyways. It was just from the fifth floor to ground level and I thought the others could really use the exercise. I thought I was fit enough. It was the others that needed -alright, I admit it. I'm fat. Happy?

At the lobby we saw that the guard was drowsing off. Typical around here I guess, I thought.

We stood outside the entrance, trying to get a ride to the Dakota.

"You think we should catch a ride on a lorry?" Ringo asked.

"Ringo, we're not in England!" George shot back. "There aren't any double-deckers I've seen. Might as well hail a cab."

We spent around ten minutes just trying to get a taxi, but it was so dark they probably couldn't see us waving our arms like mad at them.

George sat down and sighed. "Can't we just walk there?"

"Hey, it could be far. I say we just be patient and wait for someone to pick us up." John continued to search.

"Ha, like you're ever patient John."

" Well I feel pretty good right now. Hey look! Told ya lads we'd make it."

It looked like John was right. A taxi was finally heading our way. But I thought they were supposed to be yellow? This one definitely wasn't. It was all in different shades of gray. It looked like . . .

"Is it covered in newspapers?!" Ringo said in disbelief.

"Well I don't care. I'm getting in!" John carelessly threw our instruments inside the taxi and went in, and we followed holding our bags. Literally every inch except the windows of the taxi was covered in newspapers. But it didn't look like it was covered in newspapers, more like the taxi itself was made of newspapers.

"Bah, that's ridiculous," I said to myself.

"You said something?"

"It's nothing." But I still wondered, was it all real?

"You boys look pretty prepared! Are you heading anywhere important?" the chauffer asked us.

"You can count on that," George said, him and the others trying to ignore the fact that they were riding in a vehicle made out of paper. "We're going to the Dakota."

At that the chauffer started to head there. "That place, it holds a lot of meaning, you know." The four of us decided to not pay attention to the chauffer and mind our own business. I gazed out the window, catching glimpses of all the people and places. Everyone and everything was still bustling about just like in the daytime. I also started to think about Eppy. Had he already checked our room only to find us gone? He's probably sent someone to look for us. Oh God, we're probably being tailed right now.

I told myself I was exaggerating and tried to relax. The chauffer was still talking, and I heard stuff like, "his second son, he was such a beautiful boy!" and "I feel sympathy for him. Mr. Lennon missed his friends and family and wanted to return home, but alas, before he could he was – oh look, he we are now," The other three excitedly grabbed their belongings and jumped out of the taxi like school kids on a fieldtrip. I hesitated for a moment then followed them, but I was full of questions. Was the chauffer talking about John? And before he was what? What happened to him before he could go back home? I quickly turned to ask the chauffer, but just like that, he was gone, his cab and all.

"You okay Paulie? You look kinda shaken," John told me.

"I'm just sick from the ride. Really I'm okay," I forced a smile and headed straight to the building.

" Y'know, that chauffer was strange. Didn't even care we were the Beatles at all." Ringo said.

"Well, that's what ya probably get when you drive around in a heap of paper," We all laughed at George's joke.

As we entered the Dakota, we were just glad to know that the letter actually gave us an existing place. Next step, ask for Mr. Lennon.

Mr. Lennon, I remembered the chauffer talking about him. Who is he really? A hidden relative of John's, perhaps?

We all walked to the receptionist and asked for him.

"At this time of the morning, he'd usually tell you to, err, piss off, but I guess he would make an exception for you, or at least I hope so."

The receptionist gave us the key and we dashed for the elevator, then we remembered we brought a lot of stuff, so we took the stairs again. "Yeah lads, you're all calories on legs!" John said before we had another, more tiresome go at the stairs. We finally reached the floor and opened the room.

"Wait, didn't the letter say nobody lived here and there was a box inside for us?" George asked.

"Yup, it did." Ringo was first to go in, and he looked around. "Not that fancy of an apartment. The place is a mess."

"We all looked for it on the couch, just as the letter said. It wasn't there at all.

"I knew it! We've been tricked!" I kicked aside a bunch of garbage.

"Wait," John said,"I know where it is." He went to the balcony and came back. And sure enough, he was holding a box in his hands.

"Where d'you get it?" Ringo asked.

"There's a couch in the balcony. Now let's open this thing."

We all struggled trying to pull off the cover until somebody finally realized that we had to unlock it with the key. Such geniuses we were. Everyone was so eager to look at the box's contents. John dumped them out. There were four strange little wristband thingies.

"What are they?"

"I dunno. Let's wear 'em!"

Each of us got one for ourselves and put it on. It was like a watch, but there was like a mini tv screen where the clock was supposed to be. It still told time, but in actual numbers. It read 5:14 AM. There were also little button on the side of the watch. I pressed one, and it switched to a different screen. The time disappeared and was replaced with INCOMING VOICE MESSAGE. ACCEPT/DECLINE

"This. Is. So. Gear." I said.

"It's like some futuristic invention!" John said.

"It says here I have an incoming voice message."

"What, somebody's trying to speak to you through a letter from the post office?"

"I don't know George but I accepted it." I said

I had already touched the word accept (You could touch the screen! How amazing was that?) and a voice suddenly spoke. All of us yelped in surprise and looked around to see who was talking, but we didn't take long to realize it was the watch.

"Greetings Beatles!" The voice said. "If you are hearing this right now, it means you followed Magill's instructions and came to the Dakota. By the way, please keep these watches, they're terribly expensive and I can't afford to buy another one if you break one. Also, I can't explain the details fully right now. I'll let my friend do that for me later, or in your case 47 years from now since she's from the future. Lemme just give you a summary of the plan. Bad news, you guys kinda messed up some stuff, so you go fix them. You are being sent to the year 2012 where you will meet my friend and I as soon as possible. Don't attract attention, don't talk to any old people or people wearing Beatle merchandise, in short, DON'T BE IDIOTS. I'll give you one piece of advice: Follow the sheepdog. Well I hope to see you in 47 years! This is Rocky speaking, buh-bye folks!"

"WHAT?"

"NO, WAIT!"

"THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!"

The four of us started to panic. A large swirling vortex appeared in front of us and sucked in all our belongings. We all gave each other a look of anxiety and before we knew it, we were gone.