1500

by Holly Hook

  “Well,” Monica says, reading. She glances at her clock. It's nine forty-five. “It looks like there were three identical ships built by the White Star Line. One was the Titanic. It crashed into an iceberg on its maiden voyage, but the watertight compartments held, and it was towed to New York safely. Despite the problem at the start of its career, it went on to sail across the Atlantic for about twelve more years. During the First World War, it was commissioned by the British Navy, along with its sister ship, the Britannic.”

  The Britannic. That must be the ship her ancestor served on.

  “That sounds right,” I say. I look at Simon and his eyebrows lift. We're onto something. "It sank, didn't it?"

  “The Titanic survived the war,” Monica reads. “It was retired in the mid twenties. But its sister whip, the Britannic, didn't. It was struck by a mine while it was carrying a lot of injured soldiers and sailors. It sank, killing about two hundred of them.” She swallows and is silent for a long time. “This article says there weren't enough lifeboats for all of the injured, and that's the reason many of them didn't escape. This was pretty much ignored at the time due to the war going on, but there weren't laws to require enough lifeboats until the nineteen twenties.”

  I back away from the computer. The walls of Monica's room close in.

  This has to be it.

  We've killed Nancy's ancestor.

  And in turn, we've killed Nancy.

  A sob works its way up into my throat. She's gone. I've erased her by saving myself and my other family. What if I have to choose one or the other? Either my family dies, or Nancy dies and Monica remains miserable here.

  Simon wraps his arms around me. “This is terrible," he says. "I'm so sorry. This doesn't make any sense. Well, it does, but it doesn't.”

  “How many more mistakes are we going to make?” I ask. “Every time we fix one problem, ten more crop up. It's like it's never going to end. What else have we done? How many people are gone that are supposed to be alive today? Good people? People that should have families of their own?”

  Simon shushes me. “He still out there," he says, meaning Isabel's father. “We will figure something out. We always do. All we need to do is go find Nancy's ancestor and save him.”

  “But what will that cause?”

  Isabel straightens up. “I know where there's a rift to the first world war. I still have all of my Timeless memories, unlike the two of you. We can do it."

  “But what will it cause?” I ask. I have the feeling Isabel is trying to make up for this fiasco here in Nancy's time. “You saw how sick Time was getting. We'll probably make it even worse if we do something else like that. Maybe I do have to choose.”

  “We shouldn't,” Simon says. “Time might be sick, but we're all okay.”

  “A-hem,” Monica says. “Nancy should be here. Maybe Time is sick because of that.”

  It's so strange, hearing Monica talk about Time like this when she used to have no clue what was really going on. It's like two of my words have crashed into one.

  “You're right,” I say. “I...I just don't know what to do.”

  "We can get back to the Hub and think about it,” Simon says. He adjusts his coat. “Isabel—where's Julia's coat? We can't forget the clip.”

  “I hung it up by the doorway.”

  “Okay,” he says.

  “How come none of the Timeless have come for us yet?” I ask. “Or come for Isabel's father? What if Time's so sick that it can no longer tell them what to do, and people are ending up in the wrong time everywhere?”

  “It could be,” Simon says.

  “Nancy,” I repeat. "How do we get her back and survive it?"

  “Yes. Her. But we can fix that. We can do something to make sure the lifeboat laws get enacted in time, and we'll pretty much solve that problem.” I can sense him scrambling. He doesn't quite know what to do, either, but he's trying hard to be the savior here.

  “We're just going to have to go back and try something,” I say. “Maybe we can go back and tell people in 1912, that, you know, we had a narrow miss, and we could have all died since there weren't enough lifeboats on the ship. It also took forever for them to get us help and get us towed, you know. We can always say that the ship would have sunk with us aboard if it had scraped the iceberg in a slightly different way.” I can't think. I sound so stupid and I'm struggling to hold back tears.

  “But are they going to listen to a bunch of peasants?” Isabel asks. “Someone with money or power will need to say that.”

  She's right. In 1912, my class was expected to do what it was told. There's little chance of that. “So what do we do?”

  “First, we need to get out of here,” Simon says. “We might even be able to take Isabel's father with us, so he's you know, out of here and not bothering Monica anymore.”

  “I like that idea,” Monica says. “But where will Daniel and I end up when he's gone? They're not going to let us stay in this house. He owns it.”

  I hate that thought. This is Nancy's space, not his. “I don't know,” I say. “But it must be better than here.” Footsteps approach and stop. Isabel's father is waiting for us to leave. He's impatient. Maybe he wants to yell at Monica and Daniel to do more chores. Or worse.

  Monica gets up from her chair and hugs me.

  “I had no idea,” she says. “Julia, I'm going to miss you. I did miss you, even though I didn't know it. I miss Nancy. Now that I have these memories back, I just can't live like this.”

  "We'll fix it,” I promise, even though I'm not sure I can keep it. “Whatever we have to do, we'll make sure Nancy is back here.”

  Monica hugs me tighter. “You're not going to sacrifice yourself, are you? Don't do that. Promise me that you won't.”

  “I won't." Is that a vow I'm going to break, too?

  “We'd better go,” Simon says. He stands by Monica's door.

  "I agree,” Isabel adds. I can hear the discomfort in her voice. She wants away from her father. “But what about?”

  I know what she means. She doesn't want to say it out loud. I'm surprised Monica hasn't tried to kill her for this. Isabel brought her father into this mess, after all. Monica's life might not have been great without him, but it shouldn't have been this terrible.

  “We'll worry about it later,” I say. “We can always come back once Frank is taken care of. Once we have him out of the way, we'll be free to go back and change whatever we need to.”

  “I'll walk you to the door,” Monica says.

  “What about you?” I ask.

  “I'll be okay,” she says. “It's not like this man has ever, you know, hit us or anything. He's just a jerk. Yells at us constantly to get everything perfect.” She doesn't sound like she's being truthful about the hitting part and I bristle. I want to kill Isabel's father. I want to take one of those swords off the wall and slice him to pieces.

  Monica opens her bedroom door and leads us out. The four of us pile into the hallway. Isabel starts to walk for the coat hook, but stops short.

  In fact, we all do.

  Isabel's father stands there. He's holding Arnelia's clip in his hands, cradling it like a lost treasure.

  Isabel curses.

  He's seen this device before, on the head of the girl who found him in the store. He must have. He knows it's important.

  And he's already raising it to his head.

  “Stop!” I yell, lunging for him.

  It's too late. Isabel's father snaps it onto his head, touches it, and grimaces. He's receiving the same memories that I did, the same ones Simon and Isabel had. He's seeing exactly who he is and what his daughter now thinks of him. He's getting part of his identity back.

  No wonder he didn't bother us. He recognized Isabel after all and knows she has the key to helping him remember his life. Maybe he's been waiting for her to come back all along. I know that feeling.

  He faces us and takes the clip off his head. He's regaining it all. There's knowing look in his eyes. He glares at his
daughter.

  “Isabel,” he demands. He says something to her in German, something heated and stretched and full of pain. I don't need to know the language to know what he means. Why have you turned against me? I'm your father.

  Isabel chokes down a sob and backs away.

  He steps forward and reverts to English as if he's not sure she understood. “Why?”

  “I...” She bursts into tears. “You are a monster!”

  I stand in front of her. I've got to shield her from this nightmare.

  “You.” He points right at me and Simon. “The two of you told her that I deserved to die. You turned her against me!”

  “I didn't do anything.” I ball my fists. "You did that yourself.”

  He stomps away from us, tossing the hair clip down on the floor. I run over and snatch it. We can't go without it. Monica presses against the wall and even Daniel has come out of his room—what used to be my room—to see what's going on.

  “We need to go,” I say, stating the obvious.

  I hear the cabinet opening with a bang. Monica gasps.

  She grabs both my arms and eyes me, terrified. “Run,” she says. “That's where he keeps his guns.”

  Chapter Ten

  The four of us scramble out of the house.

  I seize the butterfly and hold it against my chest. Its wings poke into me, but they don't cut. They can't. If they could, we wouldn't be in this mess right now.

  “Go!” Isabel shouts. “I'll run behind you.”

  “Don't.” I pull her towards the street. We have to run to the Branch. It's the only way we're going to get out without shots being fired. Does Isabel's father have any idea how to get there? Or can he follow us? I catch a glimpse of the SUV in the driveway. He'll drive. He knows how. And he'll shoot. He just learned that he knows how to do that very well. How many innocent people has he shot in his life? How many kids has he killed without the slightest remorse?

  “ISABEL!” he shouts.

  I don't look back. I know what he has and what he wants to do to Simon and I. Hell, he might even try to kill his daughter, too, since she knows what a monster he is. Things will never be the same between them again.

  “To the Branch,” Isabel breathes. “We have to get through before he finds us.”

  We run. It's all we can do. The street stretches out long ahead of us. The Seven Eleven with its glowing sign, where Isabel and I once went through a rift. The border that marks the East Side and divides us, rich and poor. The corner that leads to Happy Rabbit's daycare where I used to work.

  “Go,” I urge Monica. I know he's not after her, but will be care if he shoots another person? He knows he's not from this time and could probably find a way back to his if he wants. If he follows us and knows where we found a rift, he doesn't have to go to jail.

  “This way.” I pull Isabel and wave Simon down an alley that leads to the next street. A motor starts up. Isabel's father is taking the SUV to come after us.

  We tear down through the alley, dodging garbage and boxes and puddles of disgusting water. Lights shine up ahead. We're almost in town. I look back to see the mouth of the alley opening up to the street we just left. It's wide enough for one vehicle.

  And then he appears.

  Hunched behind glass, Isabel's father turns the SUV and roars towards us.

  "GO!" I repeat.

  We're out. The engine's so close that it sounds like it's going to run us over. We're in downtown Trenton, close to the school. He's going to run us over. That's the only thought in my head. "Get in a store!"

  Most of the lights are off. The only place still open is the bar. We have to take that. It's our only chance.

  I tear open the door and the four of us pour in. The bartender looks up and raises his hand to stop us. Outside, the SUV grows louder and I know Isabel's father has made it to the main street. He won't drive into the building--will he?

  "Sorry," I shout as we run. People turn on their stools to face us. Loud music plays. There's a back door that leads into another alley. The bartender yells at us and says something about us not being twenty-one, but it doesn't matter. I push open the door and make sure we have everyone. Simon runs out into the second alley next to me, pulling Monica. Isabel's panting. At least we're all here.

  "The Branch," Isabel breathes.

  We're alone in this alley, stuck between a wooden fence and a row of buildings. Isabel's father will figure it out. We have to move. There's a hole under the fence that leads back to more yards and houses. "That." I point.

  "Isabel!"

  He's here. I look. The SUV is parked at the mouth of this alley. It's too narrow for him to drive down, but he leans out of the driver's side, ready to push open the door.

  "Go," Simon urges.

  Why isn't he shooting at us? I don't care. Simon pushes me under the hole in the fence and comes through after me along with Monica and Isabel. We're in another neighborhood, one with low ranch houses and small yards. I spot the red and green lights of the intersection through the trees. Beyond it is the Branch. I run, closing my hand in Simon's. We crash through the yards and out onto the street. Our destination waits at the corner. I'm out of breath, but I run up to the door and open it. The sound of a motor gets louder behind us. Can Isabel's father see us right now? I don't want him coming in here where there are kids and families having fun.

  The Branch is still open. Only a few teenagers skate around on the floor and the DJ is playing some heavy metal now. All the younger kids are gone at this hour. We stop and I face the wall on the far side of the skate floor. Through my panic, I realize something.

  We've got to pull Monica through before Isabel's father gets here. He might try to hurt her or torture her to get to us, even if she can't help him. And she won't help him. I know her too well.

  “Monica,” I breathe. “You ready to see the Hub for real?"

  “What?” She faces me, eyes huge. “See that in real life? That place looked freaky.”

  “We need to go through the rift that's in that wall.” I point to it. I take the hair clip from my pocket and strap it on. I have to record these new memories or they'll be lost when we jump into a new time. I tap the butterfly and my scalp tingles. “Your other option is to get shot.”

  Brakes screech outside. He's here. We didn't lose him after all.

  The door to the Branch bursts open, and Isabel's father comes running through. He holds a pistol in one hand. With experience and confidence, I notice. I have a feeling he would have remembered that even without gaining his memories back.

  I squeeze Simon's hand. “Now!”

  The four of us bolt across the Branch and across the skate floor. “Duck!” I tell the two guys still skating around.

  “What?” One calls after me. They're going to see us disappear into the wall, but I don't care. I'm making another escape with Simon

  “ISABEL!” her father calls again. “Halt!”

  A shot fires out and sparks fly next to my leg. He's shooting at us all. Actually shooting at his own daughter. Isabel screams and I push her forward towards the rift. She holds up her hands as if to block herself, but she goes through, vanishing into thin air.

  “Now!” I yell at Monica.

  “Are you serious?”

  Another shot rings out, deafening. Something squeals and one of the guys curses.

  “Now!” I repeat. Simon and I shove her forward at the same time.

  Monica sails for the wall and screams. She vanishes as if some doorway has opened up in thin air and swallowed her. She's in the Hub now.

  I grab Simon's hand and we make the leap. We're falling, falling through a world that blurs and screams. The last I hear of the Branch are footfalls racing towards us.

  Chapter Eleven

  I land on red crystal and two different pairs of shoes meet my eyes. Monica's shoes. Isabel's brown 1940's ones.

  Isabel's crying. Monica's silent. Simon helps me up. The four of us stand in the corridor, surrounded by bloody fog. It's jus
t as bad as it was before we went to Nancy's time. Worse, maybe? I can't tell. All I know is that Isabel's father just found a way to get out of Nancy's time—and to come after us. He saw us vanish. He now knows where there's a rift. We don't need Frank trying to kill us anymore. Now we have some Nazi freak.

  “Away from here,” I order, facing the rift that leads to Trenton. “Any other rift. Now!”

  There's no time to waste, no time to give Monica a welcome. I grab her arm and pull her towards a random archway. Simon shoves me and Isabel lets out another sob.

  We pile through just as someone else's feet hit the floor.

  We fall again and I swear I'm going to puke. The world blurs and brightens, and then my feet dig into hot sand. The sun blazes down and blinds me. Hot wind blasts against my face and I straighten up.

  Nothing but sand dunes spread out as far as I can see. There's no sign of civilization. Where are we?

  How on earth did I get here?

  “Where?” A dark-skinned girl with curly hair turns in a circle next to me. She wears pants and a purple shirt. “Where?” She's freaking out. I've never seen her before. Next to her stands a blond girl in a gray dress. She's catching her breath and her eyes are red like she's been crying. Next to me stands a young man in overalls. He's practically dancing, trying to get his feet off the scorching sand. He's not wearing any shoes—only stockings.

  I know I should remember something, but my memory's sinking into a vast ocean of nothingness. I reach up to scratch my head and brush my fingers along a metal hair clip.

  My head pains and it all comes rushing back, including the new memories of Isabel's father chasing and shooting at us. He saw us go through the rift and must have followed. We narrowly escaped. He must be standing there in the Hub, gun ready and wondering where we went. I hope that whatever rift he checks isn't this one.

  And now I've brought Monica into this mess.

  “Everyone,” I say. “I know that you don't know why you're here, but I can give you your memories back. Well, mine. It'll explain everything.” I take off the clip and motion to Simon. “Sorry. I know you hate this.”