Here and Now and Then

by Mike Chen

  As promised they left the car with a full tank of gas and remaining wad of cash stowed in the glove box and placed the keys under the large rock behind the sign. An hour up and around and through the brush and trees led them to the grove where they’d landed.

  Where an EMT had helped stabilize Kin less than twenty-four hours ago.

  If only he could take her with them.

  “Figured what out?”

  “The angle for the restaurant. The bank wanted something unique for the business plan. Mum and Dad have given me so much grief about that. I know Markus says it, too, I’ve overheard him. But now I’ve got it. I’ve been thinking about it since we dropped Miranda off. The food we ate, it was all savory and oily, but there was a very subtle hint of sweetness to it. Something you couldn’t even detect if you didn’t think about it.”

  “You’re right,” Kin said, reaching back into his memory. “I think I’d read something about how most fast-food places incorporated sugar into their foods.”

  “So, trans fats are illegal. Deep-frying is a dead cooking language. We know that the old ways are terrible for you. Modern methods have pushed it all out. It’s never tasted the same as the old ways. Every cooking historian says that. The retro places, they’re just not that good. Until now.”

  Penny looked up, the brightness in her eyes nearly uncontainable. “The Mars spices.”

  Kin thought back to Penny’s dessert, all those nights ago. A rare balance of sweet and savory, something that required precision to truly bring it out. “The Mars spices,” he repeated.

  “Everyone’s using it for desserts, for baking. Like my mum.” The words flowed out of Penny at a nearly incomprehensible pace. “But no, you could use it for entrées, too. The timing has to be perfect, but that blend, that flavor, it finishes the recipe. That’s what I’m gonna sell. That’s what will convince the bank. One taste and I know they’ll approve the loan.” Despite carrying a backpack on her shoulders, Penny threw herself at Kin, rapid-firing kisses at him until they lingered in one, her side filled with celebratory passion and his absorbing the sweetness before the great unknown. He held her, balancing the two of them on a dark path overlooking the Bay Area. Her laughter was broadcast out, head tilted back and hair swishing with the breeze. “We did it. We really did it. We saved Miranda and found my angle.” She let out a holler, one so pure and direct it might have been detected in 2142. “Let’s get home. I have a business plan to write.”

  Kin’s metabolizer-healed body was capable of swirling Penny around, her laughter providing them with a triumphant soundtrack. Except there was still one thing she needed to know.

  “Same deal as before, right?” Penny pulled out the equipment piece by piece while Kin programmed the accelerator for the time jump. “Kneel down, grab the handles, and don’t let go?”

  Kin punched in the arrival coordinates and leaned back to take in the view. This era was outside his jurisdiction of twenty-one-A, somewhere between his old life’s near future and his new life’s ancient past. Funny, then, that an out-of-time era for both of his lives would reunite him with Miranda, reconcile him with Heather, and probably be the cause of his death.

  The zip pouch opened on the bag, and Kin pulled out the small case of remaining syringes—only two pre-jump boosters. Like before, he would administer the boosters, one to himself and one to Penny. Unlike before, though, he didn’t have any post-jump instructions for her. “That’s basically it.”

  “Wait a minute. Don’t we need some shots after we land?”

  “You don’t. The transponders that the TCB planted in the ground make the jump back faster, more accurate. It puts less pressure on your body. You’ll be fine. Healthy agents don’t need stabilizers upon returning to the present.”

  Penny stepped forward. For the first time since they’d left Miranda, her face soured, moonlight casting harsh shadows across it. “But you’re not healthy.”

  Kin nodded without looking back at her.

  “So, what, did Markus not give us the right tools? I thought you went over this with him. Your plan.”

  “I did. And he did. He gave us the exact right amount.” Kin jabbed the booster shot on his neck. Penny angled her neck, and he did the same to her. “No backup if one breaks.”

  The wind picked up, the rustling brush and dancing leaves the only sound between them. Penny knelt down, wrists propped on her knees and fingers folded together. “When did you know?”

  “Right after we left the grove with that couple. I saw it on the ground when I was packing the gear. It must have fallen out of the case during the commotion. I think Alex stepped on it.”

  Penny’s breathing was visible in the cool night air; it puffed out, first heavy and deep before coming in short bursts. “You didn’t tell me.”

  “What good would it have done? It didn’t change the mission. It would have only robbed you of this experience. All you would have done was dwell on it.”

  “Markus. We could have called Markus—”

  “We didn’t have time. We arrived too late.”

  “I’ll call an ambulance right away when we land.”

  “No. If the TCB discovers you, then who knows what they’ll do?”

  “There has to be something we can do.” Penny looked up, her hands slapping her legs to accentuate her point.

  The rough skin on Kin’s palms pressed against his face, dragging across the prickly stubble on his chin and jawline. “I don’t think there is. Other than hope.”

  Penny stood and turned. In the darkness, Kin heard the heel of her boot grinding into the ground. “No,” she said, and although her face remained hidden, the break in her voice made it clear that tears accompanied it. “It can’t end this way. We’ve come too far.”

  “You know what Markus always told me. These are the rules. This is the job. We signed up for it.” He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in tight. He half expected resistance, a show of defiance, but she gave in right away and sank into him.

  “Fuck Markus,” she said through a teary cough. “He’s an idiot.”

  “Yeah.”

  They remained in silence for some time, two people folded into each other. Finally, Penny straightened up and faced him. “I’m not saying goodbye to you.”

  “This could be it.”

  “I know. Believe me, I know. Saying goodbye to you, that means I’m giving up. If this is the end, then this is how we do it. With hope.” She nodded to herself, her hair swishing around as she repeated the gesture skyward. “We take risks out of love. My risk this time is holding on to hope. And I’m not letting go of that. We are going to go home. You are going to be fine. We are doing this.”

  Once again, Kin pulled her in with both arms. Their lips met, and they shared the same air, taking the oxygen in with the urgency of a lifeline across space and time. Kin absorbed everything: the scent of her hair, the feeling of her fingers on his shoulders, the way she leaned into him when they embraced—it was all imprinted on his thoughts and memories. If this was it, it was the right way to go out.

  “Okay,” Kin said after they finally separated. He looked Penny in the eye, and she returned it, the moonlight revealing a piercing clarity from her hazel irises.

  “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 34

  This time was different.

  There was no blinding white light, no flashing of silent, disconnected images—no confusion.

  Kin knew where he was. He knew when he was, or at least what they’d targeted and the way things looked. The night sky had begun its gradual transition to purple, pulling up the first bits of dusk color.

  He remained horizontal, his head crooked against the brush and dirt of the hillside. He couldn’t feel the details—no weeds pricked into his cheeks, no rocks dug into his hands—except a total sense of cold enveloping him. The sky blinked with the pas
sing traffic lights of skycars, and the corner of his eye picked up the modern skyscrapers of the twenty-second century.

  He was home.

  A quiet groan emerged alongside him, its tone clearly feminine. He couldn’t see her, but he knew Penny grunted and pushed her way to her feet somewhere out of sight. She made it, too. If he never regained feeling, if everything simply slowed down and faded to black, he at least knew that Penny made it back.

  “Okay,” Penny said. “We’re here. We’re here, and...” She came into view, kneeling in front of him. Her hands pushed her hanging brown hair repeatedly back over her ears, though it refused to stay up. “Kin? Kin, can you hear me? Oh, god—oh, god, you’re not blinking.”

  Kin’s view became a jumbled mess of clothing and shrubbery as, he presumed, Penny checked his vitals. “Breathing. I can’t tell if you’re breathing. Okay, first aid.” The sound of cloth and fabric rustling muffled everything. He couldn’t feel it, but he knew Penny tugged at his coat from the back and forth jolting of his field of view. “CPR, CPR, CPR,” she whispered to herself, her hands scrambling left and right. “Okay. Okay. Here we go.”

  A slight pressure came and went, flashing through his body. It refused to stay, and despite wanting to claw, scream, and will anything out of himself, he remained silent and static on the ground. Even pain would be welcome at this point.

  “Come on, come on.” The pressure came and went again, its fleeting impact fading quicker than the last time. “You’re not here. No breath. Come on. What do I do? What do I do? Markus, why couldn’t you have come back with us?” She stood up, only her boots visible to him, and she paced in and out of his view. “Markus and his stupid rules.” The feet spun toward him, and based on her tone, he knew the following words were directed his way. “After everything we’ve done, you’re afraid of me calling an ambulance? For what? We need help.” She came back into view. Her hands reached out; he couldn’t feel her cold palms against his skin, despite knowing she held his head. “Okay. I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but there’s something I have to do. Bollocks to Markus’s rules.” Her voice maintained a steady cool, something that didn’t exist even a few days ago in the same situation. “Bollocks to your rules. I’m going to—” She stopped suddenly, her neck craned over her shoulder. “Hey! Over here!” she called out, her voice echoing through the hills and down the canyons below. “Help, please! Help!”

  She stood up, silent and tense with her head turned away. “Am I imagining...” she mumbled to herself. “Help,” she yelled again, “over here!”

  “Kin Stewart,” a voice came in return—the same voice they’d heard before the jump. “I’m looking for Kin Stewart.”

  “He’s here.” Her voice wobbled as she jumped up and down, arms in full waving motion. “He’s here, and he needs help! Hurry!”

  Kin wanted to yell his objections, to tell her to stay quiet, remain hidden from a sure TCB trap. Who else would know it was him, here, now? His voice echoed in his own mind, filling the space with a silent scream.

  Footsteps cut through the brush, going from a thin pat-pat-pat to a full-on stomp that crushed the foliage and kicked up dust clouds. The man knelt down beside him, his face out of view. “I’m a doctor. I was told to find Kin Stewart here.”

  “By who? Did Markus send you?”

  “Markus?” His words flew out at breakneck speed, only eclipsed by his hands opening pouches from his backpack. “I don’t know anyone named Markus.” A small device beeped in his hand as he waved it over Kin’s fallen body. “Brain swelling. Minimal respiration and circulation. Barely detectable by the scanner. Probably can’t even see it,” he said, snapping his fingers in front of his vision. “No reflexive motion. Come on, prognosis.” The device beeped again, and the man focused in on the holographic text it projected. “Okay. That’s it. A few more things. We can do this. Stabilize.” More pouches and pockets opened from his bag, and Kin’s whole world shook as the man jabbed him in the neck. He heard a hissing sound. “Eight...nine...ten. Okay, now this one.” Another hissing sound came by, and within seconds a familiar pounding hammered Kin’s temples.

  It was the best headache he’d ever had in his life.

  Pins and needles soon came to his fingers, and he remained horizontal. He could feel—feel!—a massive weight on his chest, a tension that turned his whole musculoskeletal system into a closed fist. “Pen...ny,” he squeezed out. He couldn’t tell if she heard him or not.

  The man rolled him onto his back, and the star field above him consumed his view. The man waved the device again, its blue-and-yellow lights illuminating his face. “Right. Right. Respiration and circulation are back to normal. Inflammation is decreasing. We’re halfway there. We only have to bring down the brain swelling. Just a few more...”

  His voice trailed off as he dug into his backpack and pulled out a palm-sized device. A small cord popped out from its side, and Kin felt the man tug on his wrist. He pressed the cord up against Kin’s wrist, and a high-pitched noise cut through the air, followed by a sharp piercing pain. “All right, Kin. Hang in there. Let this do its thing.” Penny crept into view, hovering over the kneeling man. Her face stared at the glowing lights of the device while it pumped some sort of chemical combination into his system.

  Color dripped back into his vision. Not that he’d gone color-blind during the last few minutes, just that everything seemed brighter and more vibrant, like the stars and blinking skycar lights might burn into his retinas if he lingered on them long enough.

  Kin stayed on his back, breaths slow yet regulated. He looked at the man, finally able to see his face. Something about it seemed familiar. He was a little older than Kin, perhaps sixty or so in metabolizer-based years, and Kin was sure that if he had his full faculties, he’d be able to place this man.

  Who was he? TCB medical staff? That meant that someone must have leaked their mission. Only if the TCB was monitoring for elimination, why did they have him stabilized?

  Unless this was about Penny.

  “Penny,” he said, pressing his palms against the cold dirt and flexing his arms. His neck muscles burned, rusted gears barely cranking up for a better view to scan for threats. “Run.”

  “What?” Penny said, catching herself from looking skyward. “Kin, don’t get up. You need to rest.”

  “She’s right,” the man said. He gently pushed Kin’s shoulders to guide him down, but Kin resisted with what little strength he summoned. “Give yourself some time. The pain and stiffness will go away in ten or fifteen minutes.”

  “No,” Kin said through gritted teeth. “Penny, run.” The muscles in his shoulders felt seared as he pushed the man off, a burn flaring under his skin and down to the bone. “Run,” he huffed out, “this man’s here to kill us. The AD sent him.” Penny’s mouth dropped, and Kin mustered all his strength to throw the man down and lock his arm behind him.

  At least he tried to.

  In reality they both fell to the ground with Kin’s hand clumsily gripping the man’s wrist. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice muffled against the dirt.

  “Bullshit. Penny, go.”

  Instead of listening to Kin, Penny came over with a tentative step. “Who are you?” she asked. “Why are you here? Is this a direct order from the AD?”

  “Who is the AD?” The man coughed into the ground. “I’m here to help, I swear.”

  Kin readjusted his weight, his strength returning enough to try to hold the man down with meaningful purpose instead of dumb luck. “Who sent you?”

  “My...” The man turned his head, dirt peppered on his cheek. “My grandmother. I made a promise to my grandmother.”

  Kin’s grip on the man’s wrist loosened, and he looked over at Penny, whose expression changed from determination to shocked curiosity. “Your...grandmother?” she asked.

  “I promised her. When I graduated med school, she asked
me to do the strangest thing, but I promised her. She told me to remember four answers to four question. Kin Stewart. Point Davies. After sunset but before sunrise. Come alone but with emergency medical treatments.”

  “Four questions...” Penny said, her voice barely audible.

  The four questions.

  “That was forty-two years ago,” the man said. Kin let him go and stumbled back onto his heels, only to have Penny catch him. The man pushed himself up to his feet and dusted himself off before kneeling back down to meet him face-to-face. “You are Kin Stewart?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She wanted to give you this.” He reached into his pocket, and it took several seconds for Kin’s eyes to adjust enough to clearly see what the man held up between his thumb and finger.

  A coin.

  Even in the dim light, he could see it. The bit of oxidation on Abraham Lincoln’s hair. The etched “1978” by Lincoln’s lapels. The scratch across the top half of the dull surface. “Her—”

  “Lucky penny,” they all said in unison. Kin took the coin, reflexively giving it a quick kiss, then handed it to Penny.

  “She recorded a message for you about six months before she died. The holo is a little old. I kept it in a safe for years.” The man reached into his backpack and produced a small black rectangle. “I changed the battery this morning, and I swore to her I wouldn’t play it until it got to you.” He laughed to himself and shook his head. “I thought I’d probably be camping tonight—I can’t believe you’re actually here. What she asked was so...specific.”

  The man pressed several buttons on the bottom of the device and then set it down in front of them. A beam of light flashed out before a light blue oval flickered to life, resolution lines trailing up and down.