The old man was leaning across his Pinto, struggling with the spring of the lock, when Alex reached in through the window and snatched the book off the dashboard.

“Bastard,” hissed the old man, and clawed at Alex with his nails. Alex’s brother cuffed him.

“That’s what thieves get. Learn to keep your hands to yourself!”

The old man sucked at the blood on his lips and jerked into reverse. He nearly ran over Alex’s foot.

“Why didn’t he just use the book and avoid us?”

“I dunno,” said Alex. “Guess we were just too fast for him.” He swung himself into the Volvo and wedged the book between the seat and the shift.

The other two groups tore off down the road. “Let’s go back to April 12,” said Alex. “Last Thursday.”

“What about the year? How’s the book gonna know what year we’re going to?”

“Context,” said Alex. He flipped through the book and things outside the car got weird. “We’ll beat them all there… in the past!”

Alex’s brother put his weight on it and they tore out of the suddenly empty parking lot in a squeal of rubber.