Mend: A YA Time Travel Thriller (Rift Walkers Book 2)

by Elana Johnson

  I press my eyes closed so I can’t read anymore. My mind races. Of course Kendra isn’t sick—my dad isn’t a medical doctor. He’s a physicist, a scientist, who happens to know about my medical problems because we share them.

  I open my eyes and swipe to the next screen. Kendra’s twenty-one years old, entering her engineering program at the institute here in Eagle Valley. She’s been flagged as, according to Dad’s notes, “a real asset to the scientific community.”

  Because of that, the next screen details her scheduled interview with Orville. It happened last week, and on the next screen, there’s a single handwritten word. Yes.

  On the last screen, where in my file it asked if I should be removed to a different dimension, Kendra’s file asks Dimension transfer?

  My eyes flit to the box beneath the question. I hold my breath as I read faster than I’ve ever read before.

  Miss Boyd shows unlimited potential. Her transfer to the Primary Verse is approved and will happen on January 3. She will be enrolled in MIT and trained in aerospace engineering, with the understanding that her senior thesis will explore alternatives to space travel. Subject has agreed and her family will be compensated at a level 6 rate.

  A thump startles me away from the panel. I press and hold, and thankfully, it fades into the wall as the door latch sinks. I sit on the edge of the bed just as Dad re-enters the room.

  I clench my jaw, because I can’t believe he’s helping Orville send people to other dimensions. I can only assume the Verse I came from is the Primary Verse—I’ve long dreamt of attending MIT.

  I don’t know what a level 6 compensation is, but I know Kendra Boyd’s family is getting paid to let her go through the rift. She’s getting into MIT, will probably get set up in housing, with a car, a new life.

  I want a new life, but mine has to happen here.

  “Chloe?” Dad bends down and looks into my eyes. I realize he’s been trying to get my attention.

  “Hmm?”

  “You feeling okay?”

  No, I want to throw up.

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “I’m working on getting you a room near your friend.”

  “Is he going to stay here too?” I think of Heath, of his family in another world, another time. He won’t want to stay here.

  “For now,” Dad says.

  I nod, because I can’t allow myself to speak too much or I’ll start asking dangerous questions. And while I should be able to trust my dad, right now, I don’t. The familiar resentment returns, coating my tongue and keeping it silent.

  “Give me a few more minutes.” He hands me a brown bottle and indicates that I should drink it. “It’s my understanding that Cedar gave you sorghum soda. So drink up.” He flashes a smile and leaves again.

  I take a sip of the soda, but set it on the table in favor of examining another record on the panel. The next person in the list is Hector Glass. He was arrested for stealing a wallet, and his punishment is removal.

  Removal to the Neapolitan Verse.

  The mouthful of soda I swallowed riots against my stomach. I quickly flip through a few more names, scanning pages to infractions or achievements. Those who Orville deems unworthy get sent to the Neapolitan Verse. Those he admires get sent to the Primary Verse.

  No one goes to the Communist Verse my father spoke of, and only a few stay in this dimension.

  “He’s building a utopia,” I whisper to myself. He only keeps those in the Global Verse that don’t cause trouble, that can’t make him a ton of money in the Primary Verse, that are completely average.

  It’s exactly the kind of obscurity I crave, but I don’t want to stay here. I certainly don’t want to stay here alone. I search through the records, looking for a familiar face—mine.

  Price

  BY THE TIME I FINISH EXPLAINING WHY HEATH and I went through the rift—to save Cascade—and what I’ve been able to find on the Link—my family owns Hyperion Labs, the largest technology firm in the world, it’s past dark.

  Heath’s mom seems to take everything I say as fact, but it’s not like she can’t confirm the details with a simple Circuit search.

  I leave Heath’s and hail Soda. She answers immediately, her voice loud in my head after so long without a chatline in my ear.

  “Price,” she says. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  “Yeah,” I say, wishing it was Cascade on the other end of the line. “Me too.”

  “So what now? Do you know when Heath and Cas disappeared?”

  “Cascade goes off the record in twenty-thirteen,” I say. “Same as when Heath and I decided to go save her. There’s no obituary this time. She just simply ceases to exist. Her sister goes on to college, gets married, has three kids. She died a couple of years ago. Shep’s still here too. Same guy, same house.”

  Time doesn’t seem to have touched either of their lives. Saige and Shep escaped the influence of the rift. I envy them that.

  “Do you think…?” Soda’s voice trails into nothing, leaving me to supply the end of her question.

  “I don’t know what to think.” I sigh as I pause before stepping off the curb and crossing the street. There’s an el-rail stop a few more blocks over, and now that I live downtown, I need to take the train to get home.

  “Alternate identity?” she asks.

  “I don’t think so,” I say. “He’d contact me. Or you,” I add quickly. Heath and Soda had been closer than I knew, and I don’t want to discount their relationship.

  “He hasn’t. Not since a few days ago, when he said he was helping a friend and he’d chat me in the morning.”

  “Soda—” I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” I climb the steps to the platform and let the scanner read my Receiver so I can get on the train.

  “I know you are, Price.” Her voice seems to warp through the feed. High and low. Soft and loud. “No word from Cascade?”

  My throat closes at the same time the el-rail doors slide open. “No,” I manage to choke out.

  “Where could they be?” Desperation lands hard in every one of Soda’s syllables.

  A horrifying thought makes the darkness beyond the windows press closer. Because I know where Heath and Cascade could’ve gone.

  The Neapolitan Verse.

  I tell Soda I’m getting another chat and sign off with her, promising I’ll let her know if the moment I hear or know anything. I hail my dad.

  “Price, where are you? It’s almost time for dinner.”

  My eyebrows cinch together. “So? I miss dinner all the time.”

  A hint of paranoia accompanies his answer. “I know. Just making sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay, Dad. I was just wondering…” Now that the words are in my throat, I’m having a hard time releasing them.

  “Wondering what?”

  “Something I can’t chat about.” I peer out the window of the train as it comes to a stop. “I’ll be home in a couple of minutes.”

  “Good idea. See you soon.”

  The seconds tick by like bombs, but finally my stop comes and I exit the train. I cross the street, and enter Hyperion Labs. The guard on duty lifts his hand in greeting, and I wish I knew him. Maybe he could’ve consorted with me to plan sneaking out late at night, or getting Cas into the apartment without the security feed recording her. I mourn the loss of my bedroom window and Cas isn’t even here.

  After an elevator ride that I swear takes an hour, I step up to my front door. I realize I don’t know how to open it, and there’s no door handle. I reach toward the solid surface and press my palm to what looks like wood.

  But it’s so not wood. The cold chill of metal meets my skin, and I yank my hand back. Our door is clearly smart, because the surface shimmers from the slight touch and a voice says, “Welcome home, Price.”

  I almost roll my eyes. I’m so glad I haven’t had to live with that for the past eighteen years.

  The door clicks and settles open a sliver. I push into it, and it swings easily on greased h
ydraulics. I press it closed behind me, satisfied at the final securing sound. A band of tension releases, and my chest doesn’t feel like it’s strangling my lungs.

  “Dad?” I call, not quite sure where he might be. I haven’t had time to explore all the rooms in this luxury apartment.

  “In the kitchen.”

  I follow the sound of his voice down the hall and past a large living room. Around the corner sits a dining room table for twelve and a high-end kitchen with hardwoods and stainless silver appliances. I stop short when I find Dad at the stove, stirring something in a pot.

  “Uh, what are you doing?”

  “Making polenta.” He says this like it’s completely normal behavior. Like he’s make polenta before.

  Mom glances up from the kitchen counter, where she’s got something queued up on the flatpanel installed there. “You used to help, you know.”

  No, I actually don’t know. Dad and I exchange a glance and he chin-nods toward a cupboard. “Your apron is in there.”

  I balk at wearing an apron, but I want to talk to my dad, so I open the cabinet to find a well-stocked pantry. Black fabric hangs on a hook on the left and I tie the apron on and join Dad at the stove.

  “This is weird,” I mumble.

  “Stir.” He hands me the whisk and I copy his constant movement around the pot. “And talk. We don’t have much time. My mother is coming for dinner, and she stays forever.”

  Surprise shoots through me again. My grandmother had died when I was a little boy. I never really knew her. A hot ball of anxiety mimics the motion of the whisk, circulating in my gut like it’s the ball of yellow mush in the pot.

  “Tell me about the alternate verses,” I say under my breath.

  Though I’m focused on the polenta, I still see my dad’s eyes widen. “You think Cascade…?”

  “And Heath.” I glance at Dad, watch as sympathy fills his dark eyes.

  “There are four Verses,” he says. “Orville controls them all. Who can come and go. Who gets to live where. Part of the deal was that he wouldn’t disrupt our economy, our life, our culture. As far as I can tell, he hasn’t.” He shrugs like the Neapolitan Verse means nothing.

  “Four Verses?”

  “The Neapolitan is the worst.” Dad glances at Mom, who seems absorbed in her fashion mag. “I believe Orville sends his criminals there.”

  I wonder what constitutes a criminal for Orville. Someone who walks through time to bring people back from the dead?

  “I’m sorry I used the rift,” Dad says in a low voice. “I didn’t know it would disrupt your girlfriend’s family so much.”

  I take a minute to accept his apology—after all, his rift-walk started this horrifying chain of events. Not that I wanted to sleep on the couch in that dingy apartment for another night. But Cascade’s death for my future was too high of a price.

  “That’s almost done,” he says louder, like Mom cares. “Let’s add some butter.” He steps around me to get the dish.

  “But everything’s fixed now,” he says as he dollops butter into the polenta.

  I stop stirring. “Dad, everything is not fixed.”

  He takes over the whisking, making the melted butter uniform with the cornmeal. “Price, you might have to let some things go.”

  “Some things?” My voice sounds like half wind, half whine. “Cascade and Heath are not just some things, Dad.”

  He flips off the burner and picks up the pot of polenta. “Time to eat.”

  Mom swipes off her flatpanel and grins. “I can’t wait.”

  Dad returns her smile as he scoops her some polenta. Though the smell of cream and butter and cornmeal makes my mouth water, I step away.

  “You know what? I’m not that hungry.” I leave, though Dad calls for me to come back. I print-lock my bedroom door and stand in front of the windows. The city lights wink at me from far below, evidence of the many people nearby. But I feel lost and alone.

  My Link rings, and I step over to it, half-hoping it will be Heath. As I open the call, I realize I have no idea who would be calling me if it isn’t Heath. Or Cascade. Has something happened to Shep?

  “Yeah?” I answer.

  “Price, where you been, bro?”

  I can’t place the voice, and I swipe at my Link screen to get the name to pull up. “Yeah, I’ve been busy.”

  The screen name pops up and I lose my breath.

  Newt mocks me, makes me supremely glad I haven’t eaten anything for a while.

  This can’t be Newt.

  Cascade was Newt; he was one of her alternate identities.

  I hit the hologram button, and a man appears. Same dark hair. Same gray eyes. Same middle-aged man who eats too many sweets and has the belly to prove it.

  “Newt?” I lean forward, but I’m not sure I have the switch that allows him to see me. Nothing in this reality makes sense.

  “So where’s Heath?” This Newt character scans my bedroom, and an uncomfortable pinch happens behind my eyes.

  “He’s…” My voice wisps into silence as I try to think of how to answer.

  “You guys are always here together on Friday nights.” Newt spins in his chair like he doesn’t really care where Heath is. But he does. His eyes burn with curiosity.

  When I still don’t—can’t—answer, he says, “Look, I just need to know what to tell Soda.”

  “I already talked to Soda.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “She thinks you know more than you’ve said. So do I, Price. I mean, come on. With the tech you have…” He shrugs. “You have to be able to do something.”

  I glance at my desk, where various pieces of gadgetry lay scattered around. If I knew what they all did, I might be able to do something, but I’m not going to admit my ignorance to someone I don’t know.

  “Any ideas?” I ask instead.

  Newt reaches for something in his environment, his hand disappearing for a second. When it comes back, he’s holding a black hat. He balances it on his head, and it so doesn’t fit his personality.

  All at once, understanding blooms, grows, bursts, gusts.

  “Cooper?” I whisper.

  Heath

  NO ONE INTERCEPTS ME AS I GET on the lift and head through the maze to my room. It seems I can do whatever I want, but the idea doesn’t feel quite right. I’m an imposter here—no way Orville’s just going to let me roam his city and wreak havoc.

  Not that I’d do that. I didn’t find anything of value on the holo, but I’m sure Orville knows what I was searching for. More power to him, because I certainly don’t know.

  I see the flutter of a coat turning the corner ahead of me. I move in that direction, because my room is that way too.

  When I gain the corner, I see a man lumbering under the weight of the girl he’s carrying. The flash of dark hair, the limp hand, and my heart squeezes too tight.

  He’s carrying Cascade, and she looks pretty dead.

  I hurry after him. “Hey, where are you taking her?”

  The man glances over his shoulder at me, and I recognize her dad. My chest loosens, but not all the way. A curious look graces his face.

  “To her room.”

  “I’ll go with you,” I say.

  He doesn’t argue, which again feels off to me. But whatever. I want to know where Cas is so I can get her out of here when it’s time. I’m not entirely sure she’ll go with me, but I have to be able to tell Price that I did everything I could to bring her back to him.

  He makes another turn, again in the same direction as my room. I follow a half-step behind him, not sure how to make conversation with him. Soda didn’t have a father—at least not one in the timeline we shared.

  He stops only two doors down from my room and reaches for something in his front coat pocket. A keycard. I watch, because Payton didn’t use a card when he brought me to my room. And I don’t need one to enter either.

  So why does Cascade?

  Her dad holds it in front of the wall and it beeps. The door sli
des up to reveal the same set-up I’ve got: a single bed, a narrow window, and a security camera in the corner.

  He gently lays her on the bed and faces me. “She needs a lot of rest. I’ll be alerted when she wakes, and I’ll bring her the next round of medications she needs.”

  “Thank you,” I say and manage to sound grateful. I am, but there’s something lurking just beneath the surface of Cascade’s father. Something that speaks of greed and power. Something dangerous.

  “Can I sit with her for a while?” I wave my hand toward the doorway. “I was just going back to my room anyway.”

  “Sure.” He sends a smile in my direction, but it lacks warmth. Relief fills me as he exits and the door slides closed. He didn’t say anything about needing a keycard to exit, or to return. I watch Cascade’s chest rise and fall before stepping to the window.

  All I can see is sky, and I don’t bother looking down. There’s not much city here, and I don’t understand this Verse with its low population and empty high-rise buildings.

  I exhale, the itch to do something already gathering beneath my skin and crowding the space in my lungs. I fist my hands and settle on the floor, resting my back against the cot where Cas sleeps.

  Only a few minutes pass before she stirs. My eyes fly to the security camera. For some reason, I don’t want her dad to know she’s awake. I shed my sweatshirt and toss it toward the camera, hoping it’ll catch on the tiny protuberance. It takes several tries before it stays.

  Satisfied I’ve bought myself a few minutes, I kneel next to Cascade and nudge her shoulder. “Cas, are you awake?”

  She moans, a deep instinctive sound that has me worried she might have been drugged. I shake her a bit harder. “Cascade?”

  Her eyes open fully, not a flutter in sight. Confusion clouds them for a moment while she tries to focus on me. When she does, relief parades across her face.

  “Heath.”

  “Sh,” I say. “There’s a camera, and your dad said he’d come back when you woke up.”

  She nods her understanding and stays prostrate on the bed, her eyes finding my hanging sweatshirt easily.