“He’s not in there, is he?”
The voice comes from beside me and I look down to find a little girl standing next to me. She’s perhaps nine or ten. Her light brown hair is tied back in a ponytail and she’s wearing red Converse All-Stars. She has a dress on, but also leggings. I glimpse the edge of a T-shirt under her collar as well. I get the impression she just pulled the dress over her regular clothes to fit in at the event.
“You know Harry?” I ask.
She nods. “He told me he wants to be buried under a big open sky in Montana. Not in a lab.”
I observe the little girl with curiosity. She’s wearing a tiny canvas backpack with colorful patches on it.
“I like your shoes,” I say.
“I know.” The little girl glances around the room and then grabs my hand. “Come on. I’ve got to tell you something, but not here.” She pulls me toward the side exit. I catch Mym’s attention from afar and she has a puzzled look on her face. I shrug and let the little girl pull me outside. She stops just beyond the second set of glass doors and looks around. The building is surrounded by a concrete walking path and a lush garden. Other than a few squirrels chattering in the tree branches, we seem to have the area to ourselves.
“I think this is okay, but we have to be fast.” She swings the backpack off her shoulder and reaches inside. After a few moments of searching, she extracts half of a door handle. Next, she reaches into her pocket and removes a watch.
No. Not a watch. A chronometer.
The device looks a lot like a wristwatch but this one is too big for a child. The fobs and dials on the side can move the bezel and a series of concentric rings. It definitely does a lot more than tell time. I know an Abraham Manembo chronometer when I see one, and this has to be some of his finest work.
“What’s your name?” I ask, studying the girl with new curiosity.
“You don’t know me yet,” the girl replies. She dials the settings on the chronometer, then adjusts the height of the door handle in her hand. “You need to grab my shoulder.”
“I appreciate the invitation, but I can’t go anywhere right now,” I reply. “I’ve got my wife inside and we’re in the middle of this event.”
The little girl looks up at me with an exasperated expression. “You can trust me. We’re on the same side.”
“Same side of what?”
The girl frowns. “I knew you were going to be difficult.”
I cross my arms. “Look, as much as I enjoy making new friends, you can’t just go zipping off through time with strangers at a moment’s notice. I try not to anyway. Hasn’t worked out well for me in the past.” I consider her chronometer again. “Who are you here with?”
The girl gives me a look that is suspiciously close to an eye roll. She sighs and offers me the door handle. “Here. You take it then. This side up.”
Confused, I extend a hand and accept it. It’s copper-plated and looks old. “What do you want me to do with it?”
The girl grabs me by the wrist and pulls it lower. She reaches for the chronometer pin. “I’m Piper Travers. You’re my dad, and I’m here to save you.”
2
“As a time traveler, your native timestream is like your address. It’s your way home. And also information that it is best not everyone knows.” -Journal of Dr. Harold Quickly, 1996
“Uh-uh. Not falling for that,” I say, snatching the little girl’s hand away from the chronometer just before she presses the pin. “Especially after that comment.”
The girl squirms in my grasp and I pocket the door handle.
“Don’t! I need that!” she exclaims.
“Just hold up a second, okay?” I release my grip on her wrist and she backs up a step. “Piper Travers, you said? You’ve got some explaining to do.”
“There’s no time!” she says. “You have to come with me now!”
“Not without you telling me what’s going on.” Looking at her, I can’t help but recall what she said. I’m her dad? She certainly fits the part. She’s got my darker complexion but there are definite hints of blonde in her hair amid the brown. The shape of her eyes as well. They aren’t the exact color of Mym’s, but they are familiar just the same.
But I don’t have a daughter.
“Look, I know it can be confusing with so many of us running around, but I think you might have the wrong version of me. There are a couple other Myms inside. Maybe one of them is your mom?”
“You said you’d always help me. Whenever I needed you. You said always!”
“And I will help you,” I reply. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
She stands on her tiptoes and cranes her neck to see through the glass doors and into the crowded hall. “They’ll be here soon. I don’t want them to see me.”
“Who?
“The bad men,” she says. “They’re coming. That’s why you’ve got to help me fix things, before it’s too late.”
“Fix what? Look, why don’t you come back inside with me real quick, we’ll grab Mym, and we can all figure this out together.”
Piper looks skeptical and consults a watch on her wrist. “I can’t go back in there. He’s going to find me.”
“Who is?”
“The Gladiator.”
“Gladiator?”
Her eyes widen as she looks through the doors. “Oh no! They’re already here.”
I look inside but don’t see what she’s talking about. Scanning the crowd, it looks like a normal collection of dark suits and dresses. A couple of synthetic people have shown up, but no one who looks like a gladiator.
“Which ones are . . .” I turn to Piper again but she’s gone. She’s running across the lawn, headed for a line of shrubbery at the edge of the commons. “Hey! Wait!” I take one last glance inside, trying to locate Mym, but I don’t see her. I sprint after the little girl and race across the lawn to catch her. She gets down on all fours and scrambles through a gap in the hedge. By the time I reach it, she’s back on her feet and running through a playground on the other side.
“Hey! Where are you going? You need to tell me where to . . .” I push myself through the shrubbery and run after her, but she crawls into the bottom of a twisting tubular slide. The squeaking of her sneakers resonates out of the tube. I finally enter the playground and wait for her to emerge from the top of the slide, but the sounds inside the tube cease.
I stick my head inside the bottom of the slide and try to see up the curve. “Piper? Come back out. You didn’t tell me who is after you. Who’s this gladiator person?”
The tube is silent. I climb the ladder for the platform at the far side and peer down the interior of the slide. Nothing.
I scan the playground. Jungle gym. Monkey bars. Good stationary objects. I check the metal bar at the entrance to the slide. Sure enough, there is a small, slightly damp handprint. Good anchor, especially if you aim for nighttime when it’s likely to be unused. Someone taught this kid the basics and it seems awfully familiar.
“Piper?” I call her name one last time, then slide down the tube just to be sure. When I emerge from the bottom of the slide—my clothes crackling with static electricity—I stand up and look back toward the gathering hall. The Gladiator?
I find the gate to the playground and break into a run along the walking path back to the building. A sense of foreboding is rising in my stomach. I yank open the door and scan the hall for Mym. I spot Abraham near the casket paying his respects. The old watchmaker and long-time friend of Harry is standing quietly at the side of the casket, perhaps praying. But as I watch, a bald man walks up behind him and grabs him by the back of the neck. The next moment both of them vanish into thin air.
Holy shit.
I search the room for the right version of my wife. This is bad. There are more people here than when I left, but no one seems alarmed yet, despite the sudden disappearance of the man and Abraham.
Where are you, Mym? I push my way through the crowd, knocking plates of hors d’oeuvres out of
people’s hands in my haste to find her. A tall man on the far side of the room has his eyes on me and is headed my way. There’s a woman with a tight black Afro talking into a device on her wrist and moving in from my left. I spin around and check every side of the room. There. Chatting with Jermaine Clevis near the far exit. Thank God. I move that way but I’m not alone. Someone else has seen her too. A muscled man whose suit coat seems a size too small is pushing his way through the crowd ahead of me. He’s almost to her. Luckily, he’s cleared a path behind him. I rush forward and reach his back just as he’s walking up behind Mym. Jermaine has his eyes locked on my wife and doesn’t seem to notice the approaching threat. The big man has one hand behind his back clutching some kind of remote. His other hand stretches for Mym’s neck.
I kick the back of his knee. Hard.
The man loses his balance and crashes to the floor. I leap over him and wrap my arms around Mym. “Hey, babe, I think it’s time we go, don’t you?” I pull her toward the exit before she’s had time to object. “Good to see you, director!” Jermaine’s mouth is hanging open. I nod to him as I back through the exit door. It swings open for me automatically.
“What are you doing?” Mym exclaims.
“We gotta go,” I say. “Right now.”
The big man I toppled is on his feet again and in pursuit. The room is in turmoil. A few people are rushing for the exits. Mym takes one look at the scene and doesn’t argue. We sprint down the outside walkway past more ASCOTT offices, headed toward an open parking lot on the far end of the sidewalk.
“You have any anchors on you?” I ask.
“We just left my bag in there,” Mym replies.
“That’s not good.” I fumble in my jacket pockets but only find the copper-colored door handle I took from Piper and my portable degravitizer.
“Where did you get that?” Mym asks, indicating the door handle.
“Long story.” I slip it back into my pocket.
“We’re not using it?”
“I don’t know where it goes.”
Mym glances back the way we came. The man in the suit is still after us. Two more people have exited the hall after him and are pointing our way. The woman with the Afro is still talking to someone via a wrist communicator.
“We’ll have to get out of here the linear way,” I say, pulling my MFD from my pants pocket. The multi-function device resembles a phone from the early twenty-first century but with a lot more capabilities. I quickly summon a vehicle. It starts blinking its way toward us on the map screen.
“Who are these guys?” Mym asks. “Can’t we just confront them?” I can tell she’s sizing up the man running toward us. Mym might be petite but she knows how to handle herself, and I don’t doubt she could give our pursuer a few surprises.
“Can’t let them grab us,” I say. “Saw them blinking people out of the building. They grabbed Abraham. Stay on guard for pop-ups.”
As if on cue, the bald guy I previously saw inside appears directly in front of us on the sidewalk and immediately reaches for me. My fist connects with his nose and sends him stumbling back. The woman with the Afro appears on the sidewalk behind Mym, but she’s ready too. Mym delivers a kick to the woman’s abdomen and sends her tumbling into the grass. The big man in the suit is barreling toward us in a more straightforward assault. He lunges for Mym, but I step in front of him and jab the degravitizer at him. I jam it against his forehead, then press the button.
He screams and reels away.
That’ll give him something to think about. Let him try jumping us out now and see which parts of his face don’t make the trip.
The woman gets up from the grass and I aim the degravitizer at her. She keeps her distance. The device is only effective at a range of a couple inches but our remaining attackers stay clear. Neither is eager to have any gravitites yanked from their bodies. Besides being painful, it will negate their ability to jump us away.
My phone beeps to alert me that our car has arrived. The bald man I punched has recovered and is blocking the walkway toward the parking lot. I move toward him, still brandishing the degravitizer and keeping Mym close. He backs away slowly.
“You know we’ll find you again,” the man says. “You won’t be able to run forever.”
“Just keep away from us,” I reply, “or you’ll regret it.”
The man smirks and moves aside. I maneuver to the auto-driving car that pulls up to the curb. Mym scrambles inside and I follow her, sliding onto the seat next to her. I slam the door.
“Lock doors,” I command. The car complies.
“Who are these people?” Mym asks, watching them cautiously through the window.
“Drive. Nearest expressway,” I tell the car. It begins rolling and we leave the trio of our attackers on the sidewalk discussing our departure. The big man is rubbing his forehead and scowling at me. “I don’t know.” I finally respond to Mym’s question. “But we need to get lost before they find a way to track us.”
A contingent of ASCOTT security guards is racing across the grass aboard a golf cart. Our attackers spot them and quickly disperse in different directions. We pull away before I can see anything else.
Our car moves into the vehicle lanes headed east toward the expressways. I take a moment to orient myself. We’re in Los Angeles in 2165. Thousands of miles and a century and a half from home. Not my first choice in places to be attacked. The car picks up speed as it pulls onto the expressway, and we join the flow of other automated traffic headed north.
Mym watches the cars behind us, but it doesn’t appear that anyone is following us. She enables the car’s anti-tracking setting anyway, just to be sure.
“What on earth was that about?” she asks.
“No idea. But whoever they are, they’re bad news.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the door handle I got from Piper. “One more thing.” I look Mym in the eyes. “I met our daughter. She’s in trouble.”
3
“The #1 reason I love time travel? Easy. Sleeping in. Go ahead and schedule that meeting for 6am. I’ll be there well-rested, sometime after I’ve finished lunch.” -Journal of Dr. Harold Quickly, 1998
“You lost her?” Mym says. “You met her for five minutes and you already lost her?”
The conversation isn’t going very well. I’m wishing the auto-driving car had a little more room for me to escape Mym’s intense questioning.
“She’s quick on her feet. You would have had a hard time catching her too,” I say, recalling my pursuit of Piper through the playground.
“Why did she only talk to you?” Mym asks. “I would’ve helped her too.” Her expression is questioning, maybe even a little hurt.
“Look, I’m pretty sure she was just confused. There were at least three other versions of you at that funeral. She was probably trying to talk to one of them. We aren’t having kids for a while yet, so she’s definitely not our daughter.”
“If someone wasn’t always dragging his feet, she could be,” Mym mutters.
“I’m not dragging my feet,” I say. “We haven’t been married that long. We have the entire universe and all of time at our disposal. I’m not even totally sure I want kids. Excuse me for not wanting to get tied down just yet.”
“Time travelers can have kids, Ben. It’s not that hard.”
“I get that. And I’m with you. Eventually. But not yet. This girl must belong to some future version of us, or else coming back in time would change things. The odds that we’d have that exact kid in a few years are like an infinity to one.”
Mym frowns. “Then why did she come back to talk to you? I assume she’d know that.”
“Like I said, she was probably confused. She was scared of those guys showing up to grab her. Maybe some other version of us got nabbed at the funeral and they were her parents.”
“Why show up there then?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she’s following instructions? Did you have a contingency plan with your dad when you were a kid, in case some
thing ever happened to him?”
“We had hundreds of contingency plans. It was a whole playbook.”
“Any of them say to go find an earlier version of your dad and ask for help?”
Mym furrows her brow. “Yeah. We should go talk to my dad and ask for help.”
I smile.
Mym consults the car’s navigation menu. “Where are you taking us?”
“I was thinking we’d try your safe house in Santa Barbara. There’s a Tachyon pulse transmitter there. We can make some calls and get some answers. Whatever is going on with this girl’s parents, maybe we can figure it out and get their kid back to them.”
Mym peers out the windshield. “So we’re doing the whole drive? Not skipping it?”
She and I usually skip long car and train rides by simply jumping to the point when the vehicle is about to arrive. Auto-driving cars have made planning arrival times much easier. Usually I’d be happy to skip, but with an unknown quantity of bad guys after us, the idea seems more dangerous than usual.
“I’d like to keep my eyes open for surprises,” I say.
“What’s the plan after the safe house?” Mym asks.
“We’ll have to find Piper again and see if we can figure out what she knows, but I’m guessing she’ll be looking for us too. If she’s smart, she’ll try to contact us again. Let’s hope our alternate selves didn’t raise a quitter.”
“We don’t know our own future in very much detail,” Mym says. “Especially now that she might have changed it. Hard to say when she might be able to locate us again.”
“And we have to assume the thugs at the funeral probably nabbed your bag while they were there,” I add. “They’ll have your MFD and a lot of your personal info.” Mym’s multi-function device has a variety of time travel apps and information about our travels. I’m not excited about it being in other hands.
“It’s locked,” Mym says. “They won’t be able to use it without me.”
In Times Like These Boxed Set Page 163
