Vortex: A Tempest Novel

by Julie Cross

  “Just be careful, Mace,” Kendrick said, holding her breath as he removed the glass cover.

  Mason set the glass top beside him and brushed his fingers over a clear tube on the outside. A pale yellow liquid floated inside it. “This one’s cold … could be—”

  “Nitroglycerin,” Kendrick finished for him.

  “As in dynamite?” I asked.

  “In simple terms, yes,” Mason answered.

  He touched the tube closest to him, with bright blue liquid inside it. I watched his fingers wrap around it and start to tug. “If I just take this one off, I can get a better look at the rest of it.”

  “Wait!” I said, kneeling down beside Kendrick. Emily hadn’t done that first. Maybe there was a reason. “Hold up, okay?”

  They both looked at me, waiting to hear my not-so-brilliant plan. “I think you should pull the pink one off first.”

  “Why?” Kendrick asked.

  Because a pint-sized time traveler did it that way.

  “It’s just a guess. But I have good instincts with this kind of stuff.”

  “Yeah, and what’s your specialty again?” Mason laughed derisively. “Seriously, Jackson. Are you out of your mind? I’m not taking anything apart until I know for sure it won’t blow us to pieces.”

  “He’s right.” Kendrick pulled out her phone from her pocket and started punching in buttons. “I’m calling Dr. Melvin.”

  My stomach twisted in knots with every second that ticked down on that clock. Mason’s eyes darted fast from one end of the bomb to the other, trying to find something he could use. Sweat trickled down his forehead, causing his glasses to slide down his nose.

  I played Emily’s exact moves over and over in my mind while Kendrick mumbled descriptions to Melvin on the phone. I could hear the frantic tone in his responses. He didn’t have the answers.

  “Nine minutes,” I said, throwing a panicked glance sideways at Kendrick.

  Mason’s hands started to tremble and his breathing grew more and more ragged. “Dude, keep your hands back,” he snapped at me.

  “Yeah, Jackson’s here,” Kendrick said to Dr. Melvin, followed by a long moment of silence. She covered the phone with one hand and turned to look at both of us. “He says when it gets to six minutes, we have to get out. It’s protocol, if we aren’t able to disable it.”

  My first panicked thought was of Holly, but then I sighed with relief, remembering that she had left a while ago. “Look, Mason. It’s more than a guess, okay? You gotta let me take this thing apart.”

  I reached for the pink tube and Mason stared at me with crazed eyes. His fingers locked tighter around the blue tube. “Don’t move! You touch that other tube and I’m pulling this one off!” He ran his free hand through his hair, making it stick up straight in all directions. “I just need more time! I can figure this out.”

  “Calm down, Mason,” Kendrick said, leaning closer to him. “Take a deep breath and try to relax. We both know you’re brilliant and you can do this.”

  His shoulders relaxed just a little and he inhaled heavily, letting it out slowly and closing his eyes for a second.

  I, on the other hand, was having a hard time not shoving the kid aside. “Seven fucking minutes! Mason, I’m not kidding. Let me help.”

  “Shut up!”

  The sounds of the party above us—music, laughing, glasses clinking—seemed to fill the small space the three of us sat in. None of them had any clue how close they were to taking their last breaths.

  “Oh, God … this won’t be easy,” Kendrick mumbled into the phone. She tugged on my shirt and whispered, “Dr. Melvin says grab Mason and get out, now. He’s panicking and none of us know what’s in this.”

  “I am not panicking!” Mason shouted back at her.

  “Kendrick, I know how to turn this off, trust me, please,” I said.

  She shook her head immediately. “No one expects you to be the hero right now, Jackson. You’re not trained to do this. Forget it. Let’s go! We’ve been given orders.”

  Yeah … orders. From Dr. Melvin, who was practically a second father to both Mason and me. Not exactly an impartial leader, looking out for the good of everyone involved.

  I made a quick decision and glanced up at Kendrick first before saying, “I’m sorry. Don’t hate me, okay?”

  My fingers found the pistol in the back of my pants, and even the whiskey and beer in my blood wouldn’t keep me from being sharp right now. In one swift motion, I had the gun pressed to Mason’s temple. Kendrick gasped beside me and scooted back.

  “Jackson … don’t,” she whispered, like I’d betrayed her.

  Mason’s face twisted with anger. He knew I had him.

  “Mason, get your hands off the explosive, back up, and let me take this thing apart,” I said.

  “No way. You’ll kill everyone in this building … maybe the entire block.”

  “Six minutes,” Kendrick said. “Come on, Jackson. Let’s just go.” Tears trembled in her voice and it hit me right in the gut. Harder than I would have expected.

  “I’m counting to five, and if you don’t back the hell away I’ll shoot you and then I’ll take the damn thing apart,” I snapped at Mason. “One … two…”

  “Fuck you!” he said, throwing his hands up in defeat before sliding backward, away from the bomb.

  I let out a breath of relief, but didn’t lower the gun, just in case. My stomach turned over and over and suddenly I wasn’t as sure as I’d thought. Or maybe I hadn’t thought beyond convincing Mason to hand over the reins. “Get out, both of you—now!” I said.

  She shook her head, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. “If you’re staying—”

  “Yeah, that’s a brilliant idea, Kendrick. Stick around so the CIA can deliver your remains in an envelope to Michael!” I shouted, not caring if I hurt her, so long as she left in the next thirty seconds. “You, too, Mason. Get as far away as you can.”

  Kendrick still had the phone to her ear, with Dr. Melvin listening in, probably yelling at her to drag me out of here. Ten more seconds of intense stares passed, and she finally stood up and grabbed Mason by the arm.

  The second I heard the door slam shut and the pounding of their running footsteps, I set my gun on the floor. My brain went into machine mode and piece after piece was removed exactly how Emily had done it. My heart thudded so loud, I couldn’t hear any other sound. I wiped my sweaty hands off on my pants and reached for the last piece of the giant bomb.

  My breath got stuck in my throat and I held it there as the time clicked from two minutes to one minute.

  No turning back now.

  My fingers clutched the tube of green liquid, squeezing it while I drew in a deep breath. Maybe this would work … but maybe it wouldn’t. The glow at the bottom of the explosive was still shining bright and I could only assume that it needed to turn off.

  I closed my eyes, taking in several slow, deep breaths. The clock ticked in time with the pulse of blood pumping in my fingertips. Holly’s voice filled my head for the three fleeting seconds it took me to yank off the last piece.

  I opened my eyes and slid out the green tube. My heart nearly stopped as the light in the bottom flickered. Just as it turned all the way off, a loud boom erupted from behind me.

  A gunshot.

  In about two seconds the green tube was set on the floor and I was on my feet, charging out the door. The utility room opened to a long semidark hallway. I could hear voices farther down the hall, and as I started to run, Stewart came barreling into me from another corridor.

  “Did you fire your gun?” I asked her frantically.

  “No, I just got here.” Her eyes met mine for a second and there was just a hint of guilt. “I should have trusted Mason … figured that he probably had a good reason if he chose to follow your ass back here.”

  I pressed my back against the wall and held my gun out in front of me. “I made them leave. We found an explosive and Mason kinda freaked. Don’t worry, I alrea
dy defused it.”

  Another shot rang through the basement and Stewart and I both jumped into action, walking quickly toward the sound. The hall opened to a large room where two elevators sat in the center. Stewart nodded toward an older lady in a maid’s uniform with wild gray hair sticking up everywhere. She was huddled in a corner, shaking, tears streaming down her face. A tiny scream escaped her lips when she saw us with our guns pointing around the room.

  I took a few steps toward her and put a hand over her mouth. “Do you have a key … to go upstairs?”

  Stewart threw me an exasperated look. “We can’t evacuate the whole damn building, Jackson. Just help me figure out who’s down here.”

  Loud running footsteps came closer and closer. Stewart and I both froze. Kendrick flew past us … and an EOT I recognized from Germany charged after her.

  I could practically hear Stewart’s thoughts, her calculations. She turned her gun toward the EOT and fired perfectly at his right shoulder and then his left leg. The man collapsed in a heap right in front of the elevator. Kendrick turned around and sighed with relief, then ran back toward us.

  I grabbed the maid by the arm and tugged her toward the elevator. “Do you have a key?” I asked again.

  “No! No!” she said in a panic.

  “Where’s Mason?” Stewart asked Kendrick.

  Her eyes darted down the three corridors. “I don’t know…”

  I shook the locked door leading to the stairwell, trying to force it open. “Damn it!”

  “Forget about it, Jackson. We need to find Mason,” Stewart said, heading for one of the corridors.

  My arms were now gripping this woman’s shoulders as her legs threatened to give out. “Don’t scream, okay?” I said to her.

  I couldn’t see her face, but she nodded her head. Kendrick’s eyes widened, staring at something over my shoulder. I knew what it had to be and I released the woman and snapped around quickly, not even looking at my attacker before sending a hard kick to his face. The man stumbled backward and a stream of blood flooded out of his nose onto the white tile floor.

  Kendrick gasped when he vanished. I turned in a circle, waiting for him to return. This time he caught me. Right around the waist, throwing me to the ground. My head slammed onto the tile floor, but the look of utter panic on the innocent woman’s face distracted me. I aimed my gun at the door to the stairwell and fired a shot at the glass panel above the doorknob. It shattered with a loud crack.

  I wrestled with my attacker, not able to pull off a good shot with him behind me. As I was trying to pin him to the floor underneath me, I saw Kendrick reach her hand through the broken panel and open the door, shoving the woman up the first step.

  My head hit the floor again and the middle-aged man with brown hair like mine stared right at my face, his eyes, his expression … all perfectly calm.

  “Thomas said I’d never stand a chance against you,” the man said, not taking his eyes off mine. “I’m not sure he’s right. I haven’t seen you pull any tricks yet.”

  “That’s because he’s got us to clean up his mess,” Stewart said, curling her elbow around the man’s neck.

  Red crept up to his face almost immediately and his grip loosened on me. Stewart continued to apply pressure until the guy lost consciousness. His body went limp on top of me and I shoved him over onto the hard floor.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled to Stewart.

  “We need to find Mason,” she said.

  Kendrick and I stood on either side of Stewart and all three of us stared down the three corridors.

  “We’ll each take one,” I said.

  They nodded their agreement and I took off down the hallway to the right. Another gunshot halted me and then soft fingers curled around my wrist, only touching me lightly. My first thought was Mason. He could sneak up on you better than anyone I’d ever seen. My eyes traveled down my arm, taking in the smaller, feminine hand, and then the flash of red hair falling in front of my face distracted me. The room spun and I felt it. Familiar as ever, even though it had been months.

  I was jumping, and Cassidy … my biological mother … was dragging me to some unknown location and time …

  My defensive move was a couple seconds late, but I tried anyway and focused my mind on something … something buried in my subconscious beyond reach.

  Until now.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The first sound I heard was Cassidy’s loud holler. She released her hand from my wrist and sank to the floor on her knees. Her eyes bugged out, wide as golf balls.

  Where are we?

  I took a half second to glance around and was shocked to see the familiar sight of my dad’s kitchen. My kitchen. But it was different.

  Cassidy dropped her eyes to her arms and I did the same. Blue and purple streaks ran up them, like instant bruises. Nausea swept over me, and it had nothing to do with jumping.

  Had I done that? When I pulled the jump here instead of wherever the hell she was trying to take me? I heard a new voice gasp and glanced up to see a brown-haired woman standing in the doorway, eyes almost as big as Cassidy’s.

  Eileen. Did that mean this was before 1992? Or maybe if it was a different timeline … something changed … maybe Eileen lived past October 1992 in a different universe. It was definitely a full jump. But how would I know if it was a Thomas-jump?

  Cassidy let out another loud holler and I dropped down beside her. “What the hell happened? What’s wrong with you?” I almost wished I had more of a grudge against her so her screams wouldn’t affect me like this, but they did. Then, before she could answer, before I could attempt to help, she vanished.

  I stood there, trying to catch my breath, to let my heart slow down, while Eileen stared openmouthed at me.

  My legs shook as I walked closer to her. I’d never seen her up close. Not when I was old enough to really remember.

  I shouldn’t be doing this. I knew that. I really did, but something took over and one foot stepped in front of the other and my rational mind surrendered control of the situation.

  She was holding her breath … hands slowly lifting up as if I were a police officer ordering her to do this. “Wait … please just—”

  I stopped right in front of her, only twelve inches from her face. “I wish I could remember … something,” I whispered, more to myself than to her.

  Eileen lowered her hands, eying me curiously. “Remember what?” she asked, the Scottish accent leaking through.

  She was stalling. Had she called for someone? Used some emergency signal or something? “What year is it?”

  She deliberated for a minute, then finally said, “1992.”

  The year she died.

  “What month?” I asked, a little more urgently.

  “July … July thirteenth,” she croaked.

  And I knew instantly how I could tell if this was a Thomas-jump. Before she could stop me, I tore down the hall, opening three bedroom doors before finding the right one. Classical music played softly through a cassette player on the dresser next to a Winnie-the-Pooh lamp.

  Air failed to move through my lungs as I stared at the little boy asleep in a tiny bed. He was lying on his back, hair sweaty and blankets balled up at the foot of the bed, blue one-piece pajamas zipped up to his neck.

  The agent in me didn’t turn off, even with the shock of what I’d just done. I took two seconds to allow my eyes to scroll over the contents of the room: two dressers … a changing table … another tiny bed with a little redheaded figure in light purple pajamas curled up in a ball, a doll tucked under her arm … Courtney.

  Then I was back to staring at my younger self, Dr. Melvin’s words from the other day, in his office, repeating in my head over and over: If you were able to do this, like Thomas, maybe jump five years in the past … you would see yourself.

  And I was definitely seeing my other self … while feeling the weight and presence of my entire body here and now. Not a half-jump.

  “Wait!” Eileen said, runn
ing up behind me. “Please, don’t hurt them…”

  “Oh, God … I can do it. Shit.” I reached my hand out, holding the wall for support. “And 1992…? Two, then … I’m two. He’s two…”

  Eileen drew in a quick breath and I realized right away what I’d done. The fear dropped from her face and was replaced with shock and disbelief. “Oh, God, it can’t be … you can’t be…” She stepped closer, wrapping her fingers around my chin, turning my head one way and then the other. “Jackson?”

  I nodded slowly, waiting for her reaction. Everything I do here is changing the future. This is real.

  Both of her hands were on my face now, studying every inch of it. “This is unbelievable. Are you … are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” I stood perfectly still, not sure how to feel or what to think. I glanced down the hallway. “Should I … go?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “Not yet. Please. But maybe you should sit down?”

  I should have been thinking, I can Thomas-jump. But instead, my focus switched to, This is my mother …

  I nodded again and followed her into the living room. Both of us sat at opposite ends of the couch. It wasn’t until she reached over and took it from my hand that I realized a gun was still clutched between my fingers. No wonder she had freaked out when I stormed into the younger me and Courtney’s room like it was an assassination mission. She rested the gun on the table and then picked up my wrist, pressing her fingers to it and staring at the clock on the wall.

  Checking my pulse.

  I didn’t know what to say to her, but I couldn’t stop staring and I had no desire to leave. I guess it wasn’t all that strange to be curious about the woman who had given birth to me … raised me for the first two years of my life. Let the two-year-old me dump sand over her head.

  And she was Dad’s Holly.

  Eileen took a deep breath. “Do you know who that woman is? The one who just disappeared?”

  “Yeah … Dr. Melvin told me.”

  Her eyes were brown. A light caramel color. And she had freckles running across her nose. Just a few.