by Holly Hook
“We did,” Simon says, standing. “I know I've technically never been here, but man. It almost seems like home.” Then he stands, brushes off his overalls, and looks around. His mouth falls open. "Oh."
"Oh," Isabel repeats, looking down the foggy, red corridor. "This isn't good."
Simon rubs his hand through his hair. "Well, Time kind of had this coming. It deserves to feel bad for a little while."
Isabel steps closer to me like she's frightened of the walls. "You two are lucky," she says. "You don't remember the Chronophages. That's not in the memories you put on that chip--but they're in mine." Her chin wobbles. "They could be out. They're big enough to take up the entire corridor, so if there's one coming, we will need to duck into a rift and let it go around. They make these horrible, wet squishing sounds as they move."
"I don't want to see these things," I say. These are the creatures that ate the Timeless versions of Simon and myself. Did it hurt? How terrifying was it? I can't even imagine what they look like. I want to get moving and find Frank's rift as soon as I can.
But there's one problem. We have mortal memories now. We've lost our sense of navigation in here--or have we? Once we walk away, will we remember which rift is ours?
I face the archway that leads back to the Titanic, the one that hasn't sunk. The one that isn't supposed to be right. The one that's supposed to be my grave, and now, Simon's. A thought hits me. “How are we going to know which archway to come back to when we leave this area? We need to mark it."
"You're right," Simon says. He fishes through his pockets. "That's a very good idea. I'm not sure I'd remember which one is it. Your memories and Isabel's memories are kind of fuzzy to me. I think that's because they're not mine."
"I don't think we need to do that," Isabel says. "I have Frank's Timeless memories right here in my head. I know exactly where we need to go to find his rift. And I know exactly how to get back here. My own memories are pretty strong. And if the two of you focus, you should be able to remember, too."
"I still think it's a good idea to mark it," I say, eyeing the endless hallway.
Simon takes off his shoes. "I'll leave one of these here, just inside our archway," he says. "And when we get out into the Main Chamber, I'll leave my other shoe next to this corridor."
"What if someone moves them?" I ask.
"If any Timeless are here," Isabel says, "They will be more concerned with Time being sick than with us. I don't see anyone. If someone does move the shoes, I think I can still remember where to go."
I look again. It is eerily silent here. I don't like that.
"It's this way to the Main Chamber," Isabel says, waving us into the fog.
“The Civil War, then,” Simon says. “Off we go.”
We walk. Simon wiggles his toes in his stockings, trying to keep them warm.
The Hub goes on forever, consisting of a central dome with hundreds of tunnels all leading off in different directions. Each hallway has an infinite number of these archways. When I was Timeless, I had a super sense of direction in here, and I remembered the location of a rift forever after I used it. That instinct is gone. We're right to mark our way. I just hope that Isabel is right about knowing where to go. Her Timeless memories are far more extensive than mine.
We walk for minutes. Those minutes seem to drag out into an hour. We find no one. Maybe all the Timeless are busy going off and trying to fix history. That's why we're seeing no one. That could be bad. What if they're at the Gustloff right now, trying to re-sink Isabel's ship? She might vanish, leaving us with no one to guide us. But I can't think about that now. We have work to do.
“Come on,” Isabel says. "I think we're almost to the Main Chamber."
"You think?" I ask. My gut nags at me again. I just can't put my finger on what's been bothering me since last night. We've saved the Titanic. Nancy back in Trenton would love this story.
Nancy.
“Guys,” I say.
Simon faces me with his chocolate eyes. “Did you think of something?” he asks.
“I might have.”
He takes my arms. His skin is warm on mine. “Bad? Good?”
“Might be bad. I don't know.”
“Does it have to do with us un-sinking the Titanic? I've been wondering what we've done, too. What effects we've caused."
"We need to hurry," Isabel says.
I ignore her. “It might. I'm worried. What if we, like, messed up the future or something?”
Simon looks down at the butterfly that's bulging out of my pocket. “Arnelia must still exist in the future, or you wouldn't have that.”
“True. I'm worried about times closer to 1912. What if we messed up the present? Nancy's time, or something? I just want to make sure that we, you know, didn't screw anyone else up to save ourselves.” As I speak, the nagging feeling in my gut gets even more intense.
Check, a voice in my head screams.
Go and check. Now!
“We don't have time,” Isabel says. “We really should get to the Civil War before Frank finds a way to come after us again.”
“I agree,” I say. “But Frank's still floating in the ocean. Maybe he's even at the bottom of it and no one will fish him out for the next few thousand years." Hasn't she been listening?
Isabel shakes her head. “Really. It doesn't matter when Frank gets fished out. Even if it's thousands of years from now, he can still go back to before you even wake up on that night and kill you.”
“He hasn't yet.” Why is Isabel so against us going back to Nancy's time for a bit? Also, before we finish this, I really want to make sure that Nancy and Monica are all right. And Nancy has all those books about ships. If we changed history at all in a bad way, I'll easily be able to check them even if I have to break into her house.
A pang explodes in my chest. Nancy won't know me. Monica won't know me. That's okay, as much as that will hurt. I just want to see them one last time. Make sure the world isn't in flames in their time.
“We really shouldn't,” Isabel says. “It's a waste of time.”
My heart pounds and my pulse roars in my ears. "They're my family. It is not a waste of time."
“Girls.” Simon holds up his hands. “I agree with Julia. We really should check things out before we go too far with this. It might give us peace of mind. We don't know how sick Time is, anyway.”
"I thought you were happy that Time is sick," Isabel says.
"I am. But I don't want it to be forever. We inhabit the universe it spreads across. If you can remember where Frank's rift is and where the Titanic rift is, you can remember the Trenton rift."
Isabel sighs. She shifts leg to leg, uncomfortable. “Okay. I can take you there. But we only take a quick peek. We need to finish this as soon as we can.”
“Agreed,” I say.
I think for a minute. The cold's starting to get to me and I almost ask Isabel for my coat back, but stop myself. She needs it more than I do.
Now there are no restrictions. I can go through any rift I want, provided we move before the Timeless find us.
As if on cue, I hear footsteps echoing up the corridor. Someone's running in our direction, also heading for the Main Chamber. “Let's go," I say.
The three of us walk briskly. I take off my shoes so my feet stop making such horrible slapping noises on the floor. My stockings do little to block out the cold of the crystal. Simon cradles his remaining shoe like it's some kind of baby. Isabel hugs my coat close to her like she's scared something's going to attack her.
There are still some Timeless here, then. If they find us, they'll try to take us back home.
“This way.” Isabel runs ahead of us. A woman screams far behind us. The footfalls stop.
I turn. “What was that?”
Isabel catches her breath. “I don't know. That didn't sound good.” She cranes her neck to look at something ahead. “We're at the Main Chamber. Simon, set your shoe down at the mouth of this corridor so we know which one to come back to.�
��
We stop at the mouth of the corridor. I stand before the vastness of the Hub's center for a moment. It's nothing but fog. I feel as if I'm standing at the edge of a red void and I grab onto the side of the corridor's mouth, nearly tripping on the shoe that Simon has left there. I know that, beyond the fog, the giant dome spreads maybe miles over my head. Hundreds of corridors line the edges of this city-sized room. Which corridor leads to Nancy's rift? I strain to remember. It was one over on the left a little bit, wasn't it? I think. I hope that Isabel's memory is more intact than mine. She's traveled there far more than I have.
Voices float from somewhere distant and meet my ears. There are Timeless here, all right. And then I hear another noise, one from the corridor behind us.
It's a wet, squishing sound like someone has taken an enormous bag of water and slapped it against the floor.
Isabel grabs my arm. “We need to leave. The Chronophages can't hurt mortals, but they're very unpleasant, believe me. They're probably coming up all the corridors right now. If we hurry, we might not have to run into one.”
“I'll take your word on it,” I tell her.
We face a long run across the corridor. Isabel jogs into the fog, my coat flapping at her sides. How can she tell where we're even going? I reach out and link hands with Simon. If we lose each other here, it's all over. I'm not even sure we can find the corridor with the shoe again.
“My feet are freezing,” Simon says.
“We'll be out of here soon.” I can't be sure of that. Somewhere far away, shouts echo. Where are all the Timeless? They're not the ones who changed history. The Chronophages shouldn't be after them.
“This one!” Isabel manages several minutes later.
The outline of an corridor's entrance materializes out of the fog. Isabel stands just inside of it, waiting for us and panting for breath.
My sides burn. I curse the fact that I get out of breath again. But it'll be worth it. I need to see Nancy and Monica one last time.
“Are you sure this is the corridor?” Simon asks.
“I'm about ninety percent sure. This fog makes it difficult to navigate.”
“That's nice,” I say. I feel bad about being so hard on her. “You're doing your best. It's worth a shot.”
“The rift to Trenton is only about half a mile down this corridor,” Isabel says. “I wish all the rifts didn't look the same.”
“Isabel. Thanks. I know this is a pain for you,” I say. “Otherwise, I'll never sleep well at night again.”
“Just one peek,” she says, turning her back to us and walking ahead. Why is she being so difficult about this? It's almost like she has something to hide.
We walk. I hear no more of the squishing noises, but all my muscles stay tense, ready to jump at the sight of anything materializing out of the fog. Simon keeps his hand locked with mine.
“I'm sure they're fine,” he says, and kisses me on the cheek.
At last, Isabel stops at one of the empty archways and stands before it. “This is the one,” she says. “Let me dive in first.”
She jumps into the archway before I have a chance to protest. Vanishes into the air.
“Well, Isabel is going to have a major case of amnesia when we go through,” I say. I pat my pocket, making sure the hair clip is still there. “She forgot that she's not Timeless anymore. Her memory's just been wiped from landing in a new time.”
“Crap. You're right.” Simon rubs his hair. “I hope she didn't land in someone's bathroom or something. That's been known to happen, with rifts moving around and such.”
I take out the hair clip. “So long as I'm wearing this when I go through, I'll remember where we came from,” I say. “Arnelia did this whenever she traveled through time. She'd keep this on, and when she touched it, it would automatically give her her memories back. Then, I can let the two of you use this, and we'll be brought up to speed.”
“I don't want to wear that again,” he says, grimacing.
“You'll have to deal with it.” The electric feeling coming from the rift grows stronger as if urging me to hurry. I strap the hair clip to my scalp and touch the butterfly's body. My scalp tingles as it gathers my newest memories. I want to spare myself as many headaches as possible though all of this.
I look at Simon and he gives me a reassuring smile. I stick my hand out and watch all the little hairs on my fingers stand up. I take a breath.
“It's time,” I say.
We jump in together.
Chapter Seven
I fall again and the entire world blurs from white to black and finally, to brilliant colors dancing along a wooden floor. My stockings hit polished wood. Loud music plays everywhere and a guy yells at me. He's wearing roller skates, but they're not like any roller skates I've seen before. They're bright yellow. Plastic. Not leather, like normal skates. The music hurts my ears. It's abrasive and way too loud. I have no way to describe it.
I stand up straight and back away from the wall. Two smaller children on skates, holding onto each other for support, dodge past me and one of them goes into the wall, screaming. One boy glares at me as if I've just appeared there.
I'm standing on a skate floor. A glass ball hangs above us and spins, reflecting lights onto the walls. People whiz around in circles, having fun. What am I doing here?
Then I realize. I'm holding hands with a guy. He has perfect chocolate brown eyes and dark hair with red highlights. There's also a mole on the side of his nose that's almost shaped like a heart. He's gorgeous. I'm holding hands with him and I have no idea how this came to be.
“Uh, hi,” the guy says.
“Hi,” I say, color rising to my cheeks. How did we get here?
The guy looks just as confused as me. The boy who ran into the wall stares at us. He's wearing dungarees and a yellow shirt that's way too brilliant. It practically shines in the crazy lighting here.
What do I say?
I reach up to scratch the top of my head in confusion when I feel something cold and pointed in my hair. I'm wearing some kind of clip. I rub my hands over it and the headache hits me.
“Oh,” I groan, letting go of the guy's hand.
“Miss, are you okay?” he asks.
The headache builds and my scalp tingles as if a million ants are chewing at it. Then, it stops.
I look up and memories explode.
We're in the Branch, the popular hangout in Trenton. This is Simon, my love. We just tumbled out of a rift and we're here to find Nancy and Monica.
I face the wall we just fell out of. We've come out of the same rift Simon and I escaped through one time when Frank came in here. It's the one right on the wall that little kids and adults skate past all the time, oblivious. At least I know exactly where it is when we need to come back to it.
“Are you alright?” Simon asks me.
“What are you doing in the middle of the floor?” the guy with the yellow roller blades asks again, blazing past me. He looks at me over his shoulder and glares. “You're going to trip someone.”
“Over here,” I say, waving Simon to the brick divider and onto the carpet. Someone's playing that Stacker game next to us. Isabel stands there, watching the squares move across the screen as if she's never seen this before. She's still wearing my gray dress and drawing some stares from the kids around us. I'm still in the brown dress. Simon's in his overalls.
"Isabel,” I say. I know she has to remember her name. When I appeared on Nancy's doorstep, I remembered mine. That's the one thing Time can't wipe from a mortal's mind.
She turns and faces me, screwing up her face like she doesn't know who I am. Of course she doesn't know.
“What's going on?” Simon asks.
“Did you forget something?” I ask her.
“Huh?”
I hold the hair clip out of her. “You forgot this. You might want to put it on before you lose it again.”
Isabel takes the butterfly. It pulses with color, reflecting all the lights around us. For a moment
, it looks alive. “Is this mine?” she asks.
“Yes,” I lie. “Wear it.”
She clips it on and I reach up and press the button for her. The red light blinks and Isabel winces. She grabs onto the edge of the Stacker game.
“I can't believe I forgot that I'm not Timeless anymore,” she says. “I won't forget that again.”
She takes off the butterfly and hands it to me. I face Simon. We have to do this all over again.
“What?” he asks. “Can you ladies please enlighten me as to why we're standing in such a strange place?”
I nod at Isabel and she takes his arm. “Deal with this,” I say, clipping the pin to his head.
When it's over, Simon shakes his head. “We're going to have to repeat that when we go and visit Frank.”
“I wish our clothes would have changed,” I say.
“That only happens to Timeless,” Isabel says. “Never to mortals. Although, I wish it would.”
“We need to move,” I say. “Before Time sends someone after us. It won't be Frank, but we don't need him for there to be a problem.”
“We may not have that problem.” Isabel backs away from the now vacant Stacker game. “When Time got sick before, all the rifts in the Hub closed to the Timeless until those versions of you and Simon got eaten. Mortals could still use them, however. They can't come after us.”
“Good to know,” I say.
“But I have to wonder,” Isabel continues. She speaks slowly, almost like she's trying to put something off. “If the Chronophages won't go away until they eat whoever changed history, when are they going to go away? They can't eat us. No mortal has ever succeeded in changing history before. This is something new.”
“Good question.” Simon rubs his chin. “I guess we're going to find out when we go back in there.”
I take a breath. The Branch is real and tangible and sane. The Hub is red and strange and angry. I don't want to go back in there.
“Now what?” Isabel asks. “We might be able to find Monica here and then leave. All we need to do is ask her how she's doing, and how Nancy's doing. Or we can find someone who knows her and ask them.”
