And then he remembered that she had wanted to tell him something before, when they’d first landed on the river in New York. He was about to ask her about it, but she abruptly left him and went and sat next to Ruby at the dining table. Matt tried not to feel hurt, but it was hard not to. Jia had always preferred him. He wondered if she blamed him for what happened to Pike. Probably. Everything was his fault, wasn’t it? Or maybe she was regretting her decision to side with his family. She was starting to see how hopeless it all was and wished she’d stayed loyal to Captain Vincent. It’s hard to feel good about choosing the losing side. Maybe that’s what she had almost told him yesterday.
Mrs. Hudson dug through their pantry and freezer and found enough ingredients to make a big pot of cinnamon oatmeal with brown sugar and frozen blueberries. But their pantry wouldn’t feed them all for any length of time. However much time that may be. Mr. Hudson said he would try to go out later and see if the corner grocer was still in business, but Mrs. Hudson killed that idea as fast as it was brought up. She said there was no way she was allowing him to go out on the street in broad daylight. Vincent or one of his crew could be out there. Then Mr. and Mrs. Hudson got in an argument about who was in more danger from Vincent, him or her, and the kids simply watched them fight like they were watching a tennis match. Finally, Uncle Chuck and Haha ended the fight by coming in the door with their arms full of groceries. Both of them looked a little worse for the wear. Their clothes were stained and rumpled and their hair was tangled.
“Whew! It’s a jungle out there,” Uncle Chuck said, setting the groceries down on the counter. “The whole economy is going up in smoke. Nobody’s taking cash anymore, but we managed to trade a few things to get some groceries. Figured we’d need some with our large crew.” They all watched him as he unloaded a bag of potatoes, apples, bananas, and some cans of food that didn’t look like they were from this century.
Haha set his groceries down too. “Anybody watch the news this morning? I want to see what they’re reporting now.”
Matt went and turned on the TV in the living room and everyone gathered around. Their cable was out now, but he managed to get a few local news stations. It certainly wasn’t good news. An anchorwoman who looked like she was from 1985 was reporting more bizarre sightings and incidents throughout the city—a herd of buffalo stampeding down Broadway and the disappearance of several buildings including St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Napoleon had now proclaimed himself emperor of the entire city. The mayor and most elected officials were currently in exile on Ellis Island with no apparent plans. Also, the Brooklyn Bridge had apparently been taken over by the Romans. The Vikings had retreated and taken refuge in Grimaldi’s Pizzeria, which Corey said wasn’t such a bad loss when you really thought about it.
“All right, that’s enough news for now,” Mrs. Hudson said, shutting off the television. “Everyone sit down for five minutes and eat your breakfast.”
They all sat, except Albert, who remained apart from the group like they might be carrying the plague.
“Come on, Albert,” Mrs. Hudson said. “I’m sure you’re hungry.” Albert seemed to be having another internal battle of whether he should accept food from the enemy, but eventually his appetite won out. He timidly walked toward the table. Mrs. Hudson pulled out a chair for him at the end of the table and set down a bowl of oatmeal, to which Albert mumbled a thanks.
Haha tried to make small talk with Gaga, asking her questions about the vineyard or the house, but seeing as both had been utterly destroyed by Vincent it didn’t go well.
Matt kept looking at Corey, wondering if he was going to show the handkerchief to their parents and bring up Vincent and Quine and the possibility of them being related. He didn’t, though, and Matt was relieved. He still had a hunch that his mom suspected the connection between Matt and Quine but didn’t want to bring it up for whatever reason, probably for the same reason he did not confess it. Neither of them wanted to face the truth and what it might mean for the future.
Albert emptied his bowl of oatmeal in less than a minute. Mrs. Hudson offered him seconds. Matt could tell he was trying to resist but failed in the end. He could also tell he was trying to resist liking Mrs. Hudson, but this was also difficult. Matt had never known anyone to not like his mother the instant they met her.
“You’re Captain Bonnaire, aren’t you?” Albert asked after he’d been staring at Mrs. Hudson for a full minute.
Matt noticed his dad stiffen at this question, but his mom didn’t skip a beat. “I was,” she said. “But not anymore. You can just call me Belamie.”
Albert made a face like he thought calling a grown married woman by her first name would be highly inappropriate. “Why did you leave Captain Vincent?” he asked baldly.
“Shut up, Albert, that’s none of your business,” Corey said with a growl in his voice.
“No, that’s all right,” Mrs. Hudson said. “It is his business on some level.” She then looked at Albert with an unflinching gaze. “Vincent and I had some good times together, but people change. I wanted a different life than he did. Different things. I wanted my family. There’s nothing quite like family, wouldn’t you agree?”
Albert looked away and shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’m an orphan.”
“Me too,” Mrs. Hudson said.
Albert looked surprised by this. “You are?”
Mrs. Hudson simply nodded but didn’t explain further. It was her trying to bring her parents back that had caused their deaths in the first place. Just one paradox of time travel.
“Captain Vincent said he would bring my parents back,” Albert said, lifting his chin a little. “Maybe if you hadn’t betrayed him he would have done the same for you.”
Mrs. Hudson smiled gently at Albert. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t ask for that.”
Albert looked confused. “Why not?”
“Because I’ve come to find it’s dangerous to always focus on the past. Even if you can change it, even if you do get what you want, there will always be regrets. There will always be something you wish you could change. I’d rather focus on the present and the future. That’s where all the possibility is. Right here and now. It’s where I found my true family.”
Matt couldn’t help but think of what Ruby had said to him the night before. The present is the only time we have real control over.
Albert considered this for a moment. He took another bite of his oatmeal and chewed as though he were chewing on his thoughts. “Captain Vincent plans to take you back, you know. He’s going to change the past so you and him don’t end up together.” He nodded toward Mr. Hudson.
Mrs. Hudson stared at Albert, unblinking, but Matt saw a vein in her forehead pulse.
“What does he intend to do?” Mr. Hudson said softly, calmly. “Kill me before we meet?”
Albert shook his head. “That’s what Brocco suggested. He wanted to just go back in time and shoot you before you two met, or your mother before you were born.”
Gaga let out a little whimper and clutched at her chest. Haha put a hand on her shoulder.
“But Captain Vincent doesn’t think that’s good enough,” Albert said. “He said there’s still ways it could go wrong. He intends to make it so you don’t exist at all, so no one can even remember you.”
“He can do that?” Ruby asked in a small voice. “He can just . . . erase people, and everyone’s memory of them?”
Albert nodded. “Yes. It took him some time to figure out. He had to get some help, but he can do it.” His eyes flickered to Matt. Matt wondered if he was referring to that man with the case, the one whose identity he refused to reveal.
“But . . . ,” Ruby said, “if our dad doesn’t exist, then we won’t exist.”
“You and I won’t,” Corey said. “Matt’s safe.” He didn’t even look at Matt when he said it, but he could hear the bitterness in his voice.
“Matt may still exist,” Albert said, “but he won’t be Matt anymore.”
Matt stiffened. �
�What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just what I said. You can’t be Mateo Hudson if the Hudsons don’t exist, can you? So, you’ll become someone else. Your whole life will be different.”
Matt felt an icy chill come over him from the top of his head, traveling down to his toes. He started to tremble. He thought maybe he would have a seizure when suddenly Ruby grabbed his hand and squeezed it until it hurt. She must have done the same thing to Corey because he gasped. Matt could almost hear Ruby’s thoughts shouting straight into his brain. We have to stick together! Don’t let go. Matt glanced at Corey, but he kept his gaze down.
“So now you know,” Albert said. “I’d prepare if I were you. You don’t have long.”
Mrs. Hudson let out a breath. She went to the kitchen and started to wash dishes. Mr. Hudson followed her, leaving the rest of them at the dining table with cold oatmeal and somber thoughts. Albert went on eating like nothing had happened. Matt wanted to dump his own bowl of oatmeal on Albert’s head, but then he really didn’t want to have to wear the “get-along shirt” with him. Corey seemed to be having similar thoughts. At least they still had that in common. They could be unified in their mutual hatred of Albert. But he was guessing that wasn’t going to be enough.
11
An Eye for an Eye
Nowhere in No Time
Santiago was starving. The well of hunger seemed to be growing bigger inside of him. When their chase on the Hudsons was finally over, he scurried to the pantry and ate and ate and ate. He ate a bag of cheese puffs, three Twinkies, and six packages of peanut butter crackers. The salt made him thirsty. He found a can of that syrupy brown drink on the shelves. He climbed up and swiped the can with his tail so it fell to the floor. It sprayed and bubbled everywhere, all over the walls, the floor, and his fur. He licked up the bubbly, sticky stuff, allowing it to fill in the cracks of all the food he’d eaten. And still he felt empty.
More, more, more.
He hadn’t felt hunger like this since before. Before he’d met the captain and he’d been just a regular rat living on the shipping docks in San Pedro Bay. His memories of that time were hazy. There wasn’t much to the life of a rat, but he remembered one thing quite clearly—he was always hungry, always scrounging for scraps of food, fighting over them with the other rats or cats or seagulls. And that was his life day in and day out, until those three children, the Hudsons, appeared out of nowhere one rainy night. They smelled like peanut butter. Santiago loved peanut butter. So he followed the scent, but instead of a meal, when he’d found the source of the peanut butter smell, he’d gotten a searing shock. The next thing he knew he was flying through the air. He was on fire, burning from the inside out. His mind was shredded. New pathways formed, new connections, new sounds, new thoughts and feelings. So much, so much. But there was all the food he could eat and no other rats or cats or seagulls. Just him and the captain and whatever stray humans he gathered to do his bidding.
That reminded Santiago. He hadn’t heard the captain’s voice in a while, hadn’t felt his feelings. Perhaps he’d gotten a little too far away. He didn’t like that feeling, either, of being separated from the captain. It felt like losing something very necessary, like his tail or his sense of smell. He squeezed beneath the pantry door and went in search of the captain, sniffing around, trying to catch that thread between them.
He heard voices above him. He climbed up to the rafters and peered through one of the holes into Wiley’s library. He sniffed at the musty smell of all the books. Words, words, words. Some humans hoarded words like rats did food. Santiago did not understand it. Words couldn’t feed you. They couldn’t keep you alive. Worse, they sometimes confused and complicated things, which could lead to death. Words were weak. They were for fools and cowards, like Wiley and Brocco. They were both in the library now, spitting worthless words back and forth at each other, as humans like to do.
“I don’t know what to tell you, mate,” Brocco said. “You know the captain is not so forgiving of mistakes.”
“But you could help me!” Wiley said desperately. He was frantic, flailing his arms about. He was holding the map, the one he’d stolen from the Hudsons. It was crumpled and torn. “You could back me up, tell him it was an accident and there was nothing either of us could do about it.”
They were discussing their last mission, Santiago guessed. The chase on the Hudsons had not gone as well as the captain had hoped, and to top it all off, Wiley had lost the map they had relied on to track the Hudsons. He knew it didn’t matter so much. The map wasn’t essential to their plans, but Brocco was right. The captain was not forgiving of mistakes.
“I don’t want to be discarded!” Wiley cried.
“That makes two of us,” Brocco said. “Don’t ask me to get mixed up in this. You’re the one who was holding the map.”
“But for the sake of a friend? Please, Brocco! You have to help me!” He got down on his knees and grabbed Brocco’s hand.
The captain appeared in the library just then, followed closely by Mr. Nobel. Santiago hadn’t sensed the captain’s approach. He must have been distracted. But now that he was here, he sensed that tether between them, and the complex web of feelings that inhabited the captain, as well as that bottomless pit of hunger.
Brocco yanked his hand away from Wiley when he saw the captain. Wiley jumped up and backed away, trembling. The captain gave a wry smile, as though he knew exactly what they had been doing before he entered. Of course, he would have heard anything Santiago heard.
“Your M-majesty,” Wiley said. “I want to apologize. For the loss of the map. It took me by surprise, you see. I couldn’t do nothing about it. The Hudson boy just ripped it out of my hands.”
The captain said nothing. Santiago felt a twitch of annoyance, a flare of anger at the mention of Hudson. It would have been better if Wiley had simply kept quiet, as he usually did, but he blabbered on even more.
“Maybe we could go back and get the map again!” Wiley suggested. “At another time. We could, couldn’t we? I’ll do it. I’ll make the plans and everything. The risk will be all mine. You can take me back to before and I’ll steal the map. Easy peasy. I’ll be slippery as oil. Like a shadow! I’ll—”
Wiley’s speech cut out as the captain shot forth his arm and grabbed Wiley by the jaw. Wiley froze, his face caught in a silent scream.
“You know what, Wiley? I think you were a much better time pirate before you learned how to read.”
Wiley’s eyes widened so the white parts shone all around. He clawed at the captain, but he was powerless. The captain drew out Wiley’s life tapestry from his jaw. He pulled and pulled, looking at the various moments of Wiley’s life. There were so many books. Books in stacks and piles. Wiley turning page after page, eating all those words like they were a fine meal. The captain drew his sword and sliced the piece where Wiley was learning how to read, sounding out each of those nonsensical symbols, turning them into words and stories.
“Mr. Nobel, if you please,” Captain Vincent said, holding out his hand.
Without a word, Mr. Nobel opened his case and pulled out another of his special explosives. Captain Vincent wrapped that scrap of Wiley’s life tapestry around it and lit the wick. The fabric burned, disintegrated, and disappeared. The remaining pieces of Wiley’s life tapestry knit back together and retracted back inside of Wiley. When he came to, he took a huge gasp of air and fell to the ground, clutching at his head.
“What did you do? What did you do?”
“An eye for an eye, Wiley. Isn’t that in one of your precious books?” The captain nodded to the book that was still clutched in Wiley’s arms.
Wiley looked down at the book. He squinted at the cover, blinked a few times. He opened the book and turned the pages, shaking his head as though trying to clear his vision.
“The words,” he said. “What happened to the words?” He turned the pages. Page after page. “My words! My words! I can’t read them!” Wiley dropped his book. He clutched at h
is head and let out a guttural scream that sounded more animal than human. He fell to his knees before the captain and clasped his hands together. “Oh, please, Captain, please! Please don’t take away my words! Anything but that! Anything!”
Santiago felt the captain’s total lack of feeling. There was not an ounce of sympathy in him. He had no use for it. “I was the one who gave you words in the first place, Wiley,” the captain said. “I have every right to take them away.”
Wiley wept like a child. “My words, my books!”
Brocco put a hand on his shoulder, frowning, then took it away. He glanced nervously at the captain. “I don’t mean to question your judgment, Captain,” he said cautiously.
“Then don’t, Brocco,” the captain said.
“’Course not. Wouldn’t think of it. But I was just curious, how will we plan missions without Wiley’s reading? Wiley planned half our missions from his library.”
“Honestly, Brocco, do you really think I need any of this in order to carry out my missions?” Captain Vincent said, gesturing to the library. “Do you think I need any of you?”
Brocco made an audible gulping sound. “N-no, Your Majesty,” Brocco stammered, “but we still want to help you. We’ll do anything for you, anything at all, won’t we, Wiley?”
Wiley made no response. He was still crying, collapsed over a stack of books.
Brocco took off his hat and placed it over his chest. He got down on one knee and bowed his head. “We will be your most faithful, most loyal subjects.”
Santiago hissed. Santiago most faithful! But no one paid him any mind. Not even the captain.
“I’m sure you’ll do all you can to assist me,” the captain said. “It was my own mistake to go after the Hudsons when I did. I’ll admit to that. I was greedy. I wanted to witness them falling apart. I wanted to see it with my own eyes, the looks on their faces, the knowledge of their lives and their love draining from them, but we can’t get too emotional about these things. The goal comes before showmanship. We only need to find one Hudson to stop them all. I’ll stop them before they even start.”
The Forbidden Lock Page 11
