Time of Fate (Wealth of Time Series #6)

by Andre Gonzalez

  Chris licked his lips, the taste of fear and death emanating strongly from his friend. Even someone he had known most of his life was not exempt from satisfying Chris’s hunger, especially under these new circumstances where Chris couldn’t quite decipher which hunger was gnawing at him more—the stomach or the soul.

  He looked to the ground where the pool of blood beneath Mario’s body had already started to dry and harden. The man had been lying out here for at least an hour, which meant the Road Runners carried out this attack while Chris slept in his Idaho home. And that’s why we’re built to resist the basic needs of the human body.

  “Mario, my dear friend,” Chris said. “I don’t think you’re going to make it. We’ve had a hell of a run, you and I. Thanking you would be an understatement. Are there any matters you’d like me to handle in your death?”

  “Just run, Chris. And hide.”

  These would be the final words spoken in Mario Webster’s life. His eyes glossed over as he gazed to the crisp blue sky above. Within hours that same sky would turn black as the Revolution faced their ultimate test.

  Chris brushed his fingers over Mario’s eyes to close them and grunted as he rose to his feet. He shuffled to the remains of his infamous store. Decades of memories, rare art and collectibles, and his state-of-the-art laboratory were now crumbled remains of history. The air became still as Chris had a moment of silence in front of the building, the stench of burnt wood prominent.

  They had to have covered the entire storefront with kerosene or some other flammable firestarter for the entire thing to have burned down within an hour. With enough people, that wouldn’t have been an issue, especially if they had no resistance from the Revolters who called this place home.

  Though he had many accomplishments during his reign as the Keeper, the Wealth of Time store was by far his favorite. All Keepers responded differently to their dose of the sacred blood. Some facets were universal, like the ability to jump through time by simply thinking of it. And of course, the guarantee of invincibility by injecting one’s own blood into a trusted source.

  A handbook of sorts was kept as the Keeper status was passed down, where each new Keeper suggested to try some of the abilities that had been learned by their predecessors, and recorded any new findings. No one had ever logged the ability to read minds, something that seemed to come and go at times for Chris.

  What sparked the idea for the storefront, however, was an ability called “mirroring”, something first discovered and only used by an old Keeper of Time from the late-1700s. Keepers dealt with bending the dimension of time, but that sometimes became intertwined with other dimensions as well. Mirroring allowed a Keeper to project and reflect real life images to a different location. Wealth of Time always stood in this private location, desolate in the northern Nevada desert to never be found. Mirroring allowed Chris to recreate this same store as an illusion all around the continent, using it as a means to lure in potential recruits—and even casual passersby. Anyone who walked through those doors was fair game.

  The idea had been well received by those in leadership positions, and Chris even fulfilled some requests for different types of buildings to reach other demographics of people—not everyone had interest in visiting antique shops. This all led to the most successful recruitment efforts ever implemented in the world of time travel. He could “construct” a new building within minutes and have it torn down just as fast, leaving people in the area puzzled as to what the hell had happened. In time, he learned to perform this in remote areas that wouldn’t attract as much attention and lead to speculation from the regular citizens of the continent.

  Chris no longer could perform this once simple task. His special powers had grown into a sixth sense, something he could call upon without much effort. Now, a hole had formed in his soul where these abilities once were. All of his powers escaped from his body like a silent, gradual leak of air from a tire.

  He closed his eyes, needing to test for good measure, and thought of the year 2000, squeezing all the effort from his brain to take him back to that year when life had been much simpler.

  Nothing happened.

  When he opened his eyes and saw the demolished Wealth of Time, it finally occurred to Chris that his chances of winning this battle against Martin were dwindling by the second. He had no one to turn to for safekeeping his blood, no way to dodge the trouble facing him by jumping around time.

  “They did it,” he whispered. “After all these years, they finally found a way to isolate me.”

  He had plans for this situation. They weren’t ideal, considering his age and depleting body, but he’d never go down without a fight, especially against Martin Briar.

  “Let’s get back on the jet, gentlemen,” he said to his team waiting behind him. “I have to grab some things, then we’ll be off again. We have a long night ahead, so I suggest you all rest up.”

  Chris led the way, his soldiers marching behind him, leaving behind Wealth of Time forever.

  Chapter 14

  Of all the plans he had for every unthinkable situation that could arise, this one was perhaps the most simple.

  “We’re flying directly to the house,” Chris reiterated once on the jet. “I need about ten minutes inside then we’ll be off. Just me and Colin—no one else. I can’t travel with a crew anymore. Colin, once we arrive to our final destination, you’ll be free to leave. I’ll be in touch when I’m ready for a flight back home, but that might take weeks.”

  “Yes, sir,” Colin said before disappearing into the cockpit.

  Everyone took their seats, Chris off to the side for privacy away from his soldiers. The day had turned him into a child, experiencing particular emotions and events for the first time, at least as far as he could remember. He couldn’t help but sulk.

  The destruction of Wealth of Time was more than symbolic for Chris. The store served as an unofficial pillar for the entire Revolution. It had become their main source for recruitment, but more importantly, housed the laboratory responsible for producing over ninety-five percent of the Juice currently in circulation. Chris had refined the process for making Juice, perfecting it to a fine science that anyone could follow. That was why he left Mario in charge of the store and Juice production, a huge load off his shoulders that started shortly after he recruited Martin Briar.

  With one of their pillars destroyed, Chris snapped out of his false denial, and now understood the future of the Revolution rested solely in his hands. A decades-long chess match now saw the Road Runners in a position to call check. For Chris, he was down but not out. And would never rollover.

  “I need everyone to fasten their seat belts,” Colin said over the intercom. “Expect a rocky landing.”

  Everyone obliged, including Chris, who didn’t normally take precautions. He was in no position to take needless gambles.

  The jet started its descent, and Chris watched out of his window, his house a small blip in the distance. The lone road near the house was their best option for landing. Chris understood just fine that they had no business landing on the deserted highway on a regular basis, but now was a special occasion that required it.

  The jet approached the ground, hovering without committing to touching down, slightly wavering as it seemed Colin was hesitating. After ten more seconds, the wheels touched and everyone in the plane jerked forward, rattling and rumbling heard from the back pantry and bar.

  They came to a gradual stop, parked a mere 100 yards away from the house. Orders had already been given, and all soldiers knew their assignments. Colin was to remain on the jet and keep it ready for the next leg of the trip. The stairs opened and Chris was the first one off the jet, jogging down the steps and toward his house.

  Being human is awful, he thought, his century-old lungs begging for mercy by the time he reached the front door. All the soldiers who had remained behind were in the same exact positions from earlier.

  “You’re all free to return inside,” Chris instructed from the
front door. “Protect this house at all costs—I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

  He pivoted inside without another word, heading straight for his office where he grabbed a duffel bag from the closet, already stuffed with cash, guns, and ammunition—all any human needed to survive, in Chris’s opinion. He caught a glimpse of the jet through the office window and wondered if he’d ever return to this place. Sure he hated it, but it was one of the few things remaining that he could call his own.

  Room had been intentionally left in the duffel bag in case Chris needed to throw in any last-minute items. He rummaged through his desk drawers and found a framed picture of him with his late wife, Gloria, and a young Sonya—Angelina at the time—no older than eight years old. They all had the widest grins, having enjoyed the warm sunshine during their photoshoot in the local park. Life had been hard back then, but it was simple, something Chris longed for in this moment.

  Sonya’s innocent eyes caught his attention, joyous, youthful, and filled with a bright ambition that had never really waned. He had long forgotten the sensation of love, but knew if he could claim the emotion for anyone, it was certainly his little girl. He only hoped her death had been painless, and felt a tinge of guilt at the prospect of never finding out what happened.

  “The circle of life,” he said to the empty room. “Just like Martin Briar went his whole life without knowing what happened to his daughter. Now he wants to deliver that same verdict to me?! I’ll be damned if I let him. As soon as this blows over, I will find out the truth!”

  He stuffed the photo into the bag, his heart set on surviving this rough patch and getting the answers he deserved. After one final scan he departed the house and started his next jog—although slightly slower thanks to the duffel bag over his shoulder—back to the waiting jet.

  He climbed the steps and never looked back as Colin closed the door, his pilot eager to get back into the cockpit.

  “Still headed for Minnesota, sir?” Colin asked.

  “Let’s go.”

  Chris took his seat as Colin disappeared, the engines rumbling. He felt the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach, the unknown future waiting on the other side of this flight. As they soared into the air, Chris looked at how small the world below appeared, and took the time to reflect on his life.

  He tried to remember the man he was before entering this new life, but that seemed a blank page in his memory. He could picture himself, but had no ability to draw actual memories and feelings from those days. He remembered working in the factories, driving home exhausted to where Gloria and Sonya awaited him for dinner. Sometimes he’d stop at the bar for a stiff drink to take the edge off. That had been his undoing, as that’s where the Revolution first approached him.

  He closed his eyes and could see their old house in Colorado Springs, the green lawn, manicured shrubbery, flapping American flag over the porch. They were poor, but didn’t know it. Happiness had overpowered the importance of money, until he came into a small fortune.

  The smells from the kitchen usually greeted him in the driveway, especially in the summer when all the windows were left open. Sonya always ran up and jumped into his arms the moment he stepped out of the car, one of the bright spots in his life that had seemed to run on a constant loop.

  The jet reached its cruising elevation and Chris unbuckled his seat belt, reclining his chair all the way back. As if the pressure of the past few months hadn’t been enough—plus his return to being an emotional human today—Chris wondered, for the very first time since becoming Keeper, if it was all worth it.

  He had traded away his family and the only life he knew for a few thousand dollars and a promise for a lifetime of fortune. The decision might have been shallow on the surface, but Chris knew in his heart the reasons he made them, mostly for Sonya. He always longed for her to grow up wealthy, a proper, sophisticated young lady with the world at her fingertips. She’d go to the best schools and live wherever she wanted with her perfect husband and children. And it would all be thanks to Chris making a gut-wrenching decision that made it all possible.

  Chris reached over and grabbed the onboard telephone. He wanted to try some phone calls one final time before landing, since he didn’t know how the next few days would play out. He tried Sonya first, accepting that she was never going to answer his call again. When he received that confirmation, he hung up and immediately dialed Duane. It rang six times before the voicemail kicked in, and he decided to leave a message.

  “Duane, my dearest friend. I hope this message finds you doing better than me. I’m currently on my way to Minnesota—it appears the time has come for this trip. I only wish you were by my side—you can always catch a flight and join me, should you please, but I’ll bet you prefer to stay in Florida. Honestly, I wish it was me joining you. Perhaps I can take the first vacation of my life when this is all over and come visit, if you’ll have me.

  “I’m about ninety-nine percent sure Sonya is dead. I haven’t heard from her and have been feeling emotions all afternoon. It’s actually been quite weird to think about what would happen if the engines on this jet failed and we went down. I won’t call it fear, but I feel something about the prospect.

  “It’s funny how quickly acceptance can settle in. Not once did I think this day would actually come, despite planning for it. I suppose plans are just our subconscious preparing for the inevitable. I like to think this trip is foolproof and will guarantee my survival, but I can’t help but wonder, especially with how our good friend, Mr. Briar, has come after me so aggressively.

  “I haven’t told a soul this, but the thought of death has planted itself in my head and no matter what I do it stays there, lurching, waiting. In case anything bad happens, I wanted to thank you for all of your help over the years. We had a great run, and I suppose all things really do come to an end. It’s funny—I remember when Chester told me how all Keepers reach a point during their reign where they know it’s time to step away. I haven’t felt that yet, even with everything going on. I still have so much to give and even more to do. I still dream of a world with no Road Runners, and I intend to see it happen. Don’t be surprised if you see the news headlines coming up and wonder if the end of the world is coming—it’s just me trying to push the Road Runners to the brink of insanity.

  “I’m rambling and I’m sorry—it’s been a long day. I hope we get the chance to talk again soon. Goodbye, my friend.”

  He hung up and leaned back in his seat. With nostalgia throbbing in his mind, Chris shook his head to clear his thoughts, needing to focus on the task of survival. He was in the air, headed for the most remote location he kept a property in the continental United States. He had a fighting chance, which is all he could ask for under the circumstances. Now he just needed to fight.

  Chapter 15

  “This is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen,” Martin said as they stood in front of the pile of ashes that was once Wealth of Time. “Would it be mean to piss on what’s left?”

  Everyone cackled.

  Since the store was only a twenty-minute flight away from Chris’s home in Idaho, Martin had insisted they stop to see the wreckage before moving to the final leg of the mission. He hadn’t seen the store since his last trip to the area with Gerald. Wealth of Time represented the death to those closest to Martin, and the amount of glee filling his chest nearly lifted him off the ground. He only wished he had been around to see its destruction firsthand.

  “Hell of a job,” he said to Arielle, who had remained next to Alina in the small cluster they had formed in front of the fallen property. “Your team executed this to perfection—I’ll make sure they get the proper recognition and additional compensation they deserve.”

  “Thank you, sir. I dedicated this mission to Gerald, and I know everyone on the team took that to heart.”

  “This is pure justice. Does anyone else feel something in the air today? Things are actually going our way for once.”

  The team cheered and howled, and
Martin grinned. The loss of Sonya stung and hadn’t worn off, but he managed to come to terms with it, not wanting to waste her sacrifice. If they actually managed to pull off the unthinkable and live in a world with no threats from the Revolution, he had plans to build a new headquarters and name it after Sonya. He figured it had always been her destiny to be the hero in this war against Chris, considering she had the direct tie to him. And it would still play out this way if everything continued to fall into place.

  Martin felt obliged to deliver a speech in front of the destroyed Wealth of Time store, even if it was only to the couple dozen of team members that had been by his side since they left Denver two weeks ago. He stepped forward, feeding off their energy.

  “We’re doing it,” he started. “Each and every one of you, and all the other team members across the country and time. We are doing it. Hold your heads up high and be proud of what has already been accomplished. Today is the most important day in our organization’s history. We stand on the shoulders of those before us. Let us not forget the efforts and research they had already completed to make all of this possible. This has been a team effort spanning almost fifty years.

  “I want you to take a moment and think about why you’re here today. Really think about it. For me, I was a lost soul who just wanted life to end. I held out a false hope that maybe one day my daughter would return. Chris lured me in that day, in this very store. And you know what? It actually worked. I’ll never take the credit away from Chris for allowing me the chance to learn the truth. I owe him that much, but it stops there. After that, he spun me into a world of lies, murdered my mother, and has forced me to live a life where I constantly look over my shoulder. I know all of our stories aren’t identical, but there are plenty of similarities.