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

by Elana Johnson

  She stumbles and lets herself fall into the chair at the head of the table. I step in front of Soda to shield her.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask Kelly.

  “Wanted to see who I was dealing with.”

  “I’m sure you could’ve pulled up my picture.”

  “I did.”

  I frown at her, trying to figure things out. I can’t. “What do you want?”

  She coughs, and the tension in my muscles loosens. She’s not a threat. She barely seems able to support herself.

  Kelly finishes and wipes her lips. “Guy Ryerson.”

  “You want Guy?” I cast a glance over my shoulder to Soda, who still stands with rigidity down her back, her fists clenched, the hint of tears in her eyes.

  I reach for her hand and calm her fingers, coax them between mine. “Guy’s unavailable.”

  Kelly flashes a sinister smile in my direction. “If you say so.”

  I scan the room. Only two entrances—the door and the rift. An alert sounds in my head at the same time Soda whispers something.

  “Primary elevator activated.”

  I release Soda’s hand and gently push her backward. “Stay down, okay?” I look into her green eyes, desperate for her to agree. “Guy’s coming.”

  “She’s a liar,” Soda whispers. “You can’t believe anything she says.”

  I catalog the information, the pure panic in my girlfriend’s eyes. I can’t do much with it before a vice-like grip lands on my bicep.

  I jerk away from Kelly’s touch just as the door to the conference room bursts open. Guy enters, still wearing his nightclothes. “Heath? What is going on?” He sweeps his gaze across Soda, and lets it land on Kelly. “Who is she?”

  Once again, I goggle at someone. “You don’t know who she is?” I point to the otherworldly woman only a few steps away from me.

  “Should I?”

  “Yes, you should,” Kelly says, her voice stronger now. A bit of color has entered her face, and I see now that she’s sucking on something.

  All at once, understanding ploughs into me. Kelly was sick from crossing-over, the same way Cascade got ill every time she entered a rift.

  Kelly’s moved through time or space. A lot.

  “How old are you?” I ask her.

  “None of your business.” She glares at me with a hatred so cold, the marrow in my bones freezes.

  Soda’s fingers slip into my hand, and she traces on my palm. I glance at her, not quite getting what she’s sending. I try to find her on the Circuit, but she’s dark. Her Receiver sits cold in her palm.

  She writes something on my hand again, and this time I get it. I swing my attention back to Kelly, who’s staring at Guy. The icy glare he sends back to her raises the hope from the bottom of my feet.

  He could be an ally here.

  “How old are you?” I ask her again. I glance at Guy. “How old is she?”

  “Forty-two,” Guy says—the same number Soda had written on my palm. “Isn’t that right, Kelly?” He circles around to the other side of the table. “Why do you look thirty years older than that?”

  “You know why,” she snaps, scanning him. “And you don’t look older at all. Why don’t you, Guy?”

  “I stopped walking when I discovered the health risks.” He places both hands on the back of a chair as if to brace himself. “Why are you here, Kelly? You’ve never come here before.”

  “I never knew you were holding out on me. You’ve deliberately kept your face off the networks.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She snarls and paces toward the front of the table. The tension rioting in my stomach makes me feel like throwing up.

  “You have a way to heal this sickness,” she says.

  “I do not.” He moves to the head of the table and taps on a flatpanel. “Your Global health care is far superior to ours. If anyone knows, it’s your scientists.”

  “They know nothing. They can’t do anything!” Her shout echoes through the room, makes me flinch. Beside me, Soda trembles.

  “My world is almost dead,” Kelly says, lifting her chin. “I need whatever you have. Your people aren’t working fast enough.”

  “I give you everything they discover,” he says coolly, his attention still on the panel. The picture frame starts to undulate. “It’s time for you to go.”

  “I’m not leaving until I have whatever magic pill you’ve been taking.”

  “I’m not taking anything.” Guy waves to the rift. “And you’re leaving now.”

  “The Global Verse isn’t almost dead,” Soda says beside me. “It’s beautiful there. Tons of trees, green space, blue skies. Everyone is nice—almost too nice.” Her voice grows in volume and confidence. “I snuck into their systems. There’s no reason for her to be sending anyone here. She does it to control people. To get them out of her utopia when they disagree with her!”

  By the time she finishes her proclamation, she’s inched toward Kelly, who stares at her with loathing before bursting into laughter.

  “She never left my facility. She has no idea what she’s talking about.”

  “But I’ve been to Global too,” I say, joining Soda. “And it’s exactly as she says.”

  Guy cocks his head to the side and studies us, almost like he can see inside our minds. I get a chat from him that I open silently.

  How long were you in Global?

  A couple of days, I chat back. People had jobs, there was public transportation, fountains, trees, blue skies. The city’s much smaller than here. It really is a utopia.

  “Kelly?” Guy says aloud, stepping back to the flatpanel and tapping once, twice, three times.

  “They’re lying. You’re going to believe two kids over someone you’ve worked with for a decade?”

  “I’ve never met you,” Guy says. “And you just accused me of lying and holding back scientific findings.”

  For the first time since she arrived, Kelly fidgets. “It’s not my fault my father sent me through the rift so much!” she screams. “I need what you’re taking!” She lunges toward Guy, her fingers splayed wide, her eyes wild.

  He grapples with her; she seems freakishly strong for her condition. Cas would never be able to do that after a walk. She’d have passed out by now.

  “Who’s her dad, Soda?” I don’t know why I ask; I only know it’s important.

  “Payton Openshaw,” she says.

  I suck in a breath. I remember his black eyes, his anger at his own father for not allowing him to live in the utopian Global Verse. Seems like he got his daughter there somehow.

  Guy grunts and goes down. I rush around the table, my body reacting without direct instruction from my brain.

  I grab Kelly’s shoulders and heave her away from Guy. “You’ve been lying to all of us for too long.”

  She struggles against me, but I hold her fast. “Like Guy said, it’s time for you to go.” I push her toward the picture frame with everything I have. She enters it with a scream, disappearing into the nothing as quickly as she’d come.

  I reach down and help Guy to his feet. He suddenly looks older than usual, his skin waxy and pale.

  “Thanks,” he says.

  “So now what?” The only thing I’m really worried about is what’ll happen now.

  “Now I communicate with Global.” He exhales and pulls the displaced chair back to the panels at the head of the table.

  “Didn’t we just send Kelly back to Global?” I wonder if that cross-over will kill her.

  Guy abandons his task with the panels and meets my gaze evenly. “No, Heath, I set the rift to the Neapolitan Verse.”

  I huff out a breath and step back. I haven’t been to Neapolitan, but listening to Price talk about what he’s seen—seeing the pure terror on his face—and I know Guy’s doomed Kelly to the worst fate possible.

  “I’ve just about got it.” I tweeze at the loose wire on the back of Soda’s Receiver. I zoom in with my cybernetics t
o make sure I get it attached exactly right. “Kelly sabotaged this?”

  “She shorted everything out,” she says. “Well, she didn’t. She doesn’t actually do anything. But everyone obeys her. Immediately, exactly.” She shivers and I long to take her into my arms and warm her up.

  “I’ve seen her electricity workers,” I say. “Scary.”

  “It was.” Soda flinches as I clip the Receiver back into her skin. “Thank you for getting me back.”

  I meet her gaze, see the wobble in her chin. “I’ll always come for you.” I lean toward her and kiss her, a sense of relief flowing through me.

  “You gonna chat your mom?” I whisper, barely pulling my lips from hers.

  “Later.” She climbs into my lap and smiles at me before bringing her mouth to mine again. Time rifts—and time itself—disappear with Soda in my arms, her sweet voice whispering that she loves me, and her lips pressing against mine.

  Price

  A PRICKLE PASSES THROUGH MY BODY as I enter the frame. My foot lands on the floor, and it’s as if I’ve done a one-eighty, now emerging from the picture frame instead of going into it.

  I’ve gone somewhere or somewhen else, because Cedar’s not standing in the narrow room. I scurry away from the frame, hoping he’s sent me to the right Verse, at the right time. I didn’t even ask him. He just queued it up, and I just stepped through.

  A timer goes off, filling the small space with shrill beeps. My heart rate shoots to the moon, and I race to the door and yank it open.

  I don’t register the man standing there before I ram right into him. He grunts and I stumble, and then we both go down.

  “Sorry,” I say automatically, trying to gain my balance and figure out who he is—friend or foe?—simultaneously. I fail at both tasks, and my poor brain can hardly stand any more surprises tonight.

  The man looks vaguely familiar, but my flight instinct overrides any idea to stop and figure out who he is. It makes no sense that I’d know him, or that he’d be sympathetic to my cause.

  I finally disentangle my legs from his and head for the door behind him.

  “Lock down the lab!” he shouts, and the resounding clunk of the door locks adds its voice to his.

  I skid to a stop and face him, swallowing back the desire to throw up. “Let me go,” I say.

  “Where did you come from?” he asks.

  I study him. White lab coat. A tad on the pudgy side. Green eyes. Chestnut hair. Bloodshot eyes. At work in the wee hours of the morning.

  “Nowhere,” I say.

  “I know who you are, Price Ryerson.”

  I flinch, but I don’t think he sees it, because he’s busy trying to stand. I realize he’s at least my dad’s age, probably a few years older.

  “You’re here to find my daughter,” he says.

  “I am?”

  “Cascade’s been taken out of the city,” the man says as he types something on a keyboard. The beeping alarm silences and the locks disengage. “You’ll need to go quickly.”

  “You just locked me in here.”

  “It’s standard procedure,” he says. “I have to make it look like I’m following protocols.”

  His words don’t make sense to me, but I turn to leave.

  “Wait,” he says.

  When I turn back, he’s holding a folded packet of paper toward me. “A map to the cabin where Cascade is.”

  I take the paper, stare at it and then him. “You’re her father?” I vaguely remember Cas saying her father wasn’t dead like she thought, that he was confined to this Verse. She hadn’t been happy about it. Saige either.

  “That’s right,” he says. “Carl Phillips.” He puffs out his chest. “I’m Orville’s lead lab technician, and it’s because of that position that I can conceal your cross-over.”

  I tuck the map in my backpack. “Do you know my father too?”

  “No,” he says. “He was only born last year. I had an arrangement with Cedar to get you through without detection. Apparently my daughter is very fond of you.”

  My chest squeezes, and I’m suddenly keen to leave. Leave, so I can get to Cascade.

  “She speaks of you all the time,” he continues. Another alarms wails, and he startles. “Time to go, Price. Use the map. Go, now!”

  Though questions swim through my mind, I spin toward the door and go.

  Cascade

  I OPEN MY EYES TO GRAY LIGHT. The morning is always this color just before dawn, no matter the season. I can’t seem to sleep with so much silence surrounding me. I always wake by six and lie in bed while I wait for the rest of the world to get up.

  Today, though, there’s something not quite right. It’s not as quiet as it should be. I stare at the ceiling, tense tense tense as I listen through the morning.

  A crunch. A footstep against gravel.

  I leap from bed and pull on my hoodie, enter the living room and jam my feet into my boots. The house is locked—I never unlock the door unless I leave. And I only leave in the middle of the day, after lunch, for a long walk through the woods.

  No one comes here. At least they haven’t in the twelve months I’ve been living here alone. Payton stayed for a couple of days. Taught me how to chop wood, how to wash my clothes without electricity, how to look for animal tracks and steer clear of those areas.

  I’d stood on the porch while his red truck disappeared into the trees. I knew which way to start walking, but I had no idea how long it would take me. And I was safe here. I felt good—better and better every day despite the little I slept. I didn’t need anyone to take care of me, but Dad came every month with a fresh supply of groceries, supplies, and conversation.

  He only stayed for a couple of hours, claiming he couldn’t be away from the lab for too long. I never questioned him about it, about any of it. Every time I try, I find I have no questions I need answering.

  But the loneliness has been chipping away at me for the last couple of months, despite his visits. I’d fallen asleep last night wondering if I could somehow ask Dad to go back to the city with him the next time he came.

  The porch creaks, and I dash into the kitchen for the sharpest knife I have.

  Three light knocks land on the front door, making me hesitate in my knife-lifting. I grip the hilt and take the weapon with me to the door.

  “Who is it?” I call through the thick wood.

  “Cascade? It’s Price.”

  The knife clatters to the floor at the sound of his voice, the mention of his name. I don’t dare believe it. I’ve dreamt of this moment in the fitful sleep I managed to get. I’ve fantasized about it next to the stream across the clearing, thought about what I’d say as I circled the forest, planned exactly how long I’d make him wait to kiss me.

  And now Price is here. After a year of lonely living, Price is here.

  Price is here!

  My clumsy fingers fumble with the chain on the door, the lock on the knob, finally releasing the protections between me and him.

  I whip open the door to find Price standing there, wearing a blue windbreaker and a black backpack.

  And a lazy smile.

  “I found you,” he says, his gloved hands reaching for me.

  I throw myself into his arms, bury my face into the warmth of his neck, and laugh.

  He’s real. He’s here, and he’s real.

  I find my feet and press my lips to his. His touch is welcome, his kiss cravable.

  “You came,” I pant, breathless, when he pulls away.

  “I love you, Cascade. Wherever you are, I want to be.” He grips my waist and pulls me into his personal space. He leans down, that cocky grin I love so much on his face, and kisses me again.

  Euphoria swells within me with the icy tingle of his lips, the strong warmth of his hands as they inch up my back.

  “You’re here for good?” I say into his mouth, kissing him again before he can answer.

  “For always.” He leans his forehead against mine. “No more time rifts. No more rift-walki
ng. Just time for you to heal, for us to mend.” He glances over my shoulder. “Can we go inside? I’ve been walking for days and days.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been waiting to see you for a year. You won’t die from a few more minutes on the porch.” I hook my fingers through the belt loops on his jeans and pull him into the house, barely getting the door shut and secured before stretching up on my tiptoes to kiss him again.

  “You’ve been waiting a year?” he asks, urging me backward until we meet the couch. He sighs in relief as he settles next to me.

  “A whole year.”

  He trails his lips across my jaw, teasing my neck. A giggle escapes my mouth. “My dad said you’d come eventually. But we had to give Orville time to ease up on his protections. Cedar was supposed to calibrate the rift for a year later.”

  Price kisses my collarbone. “I’m sorry you’ve been here a year by yourself.” He pulls back and gazes at me with absolute adoration in his expression. “So you’ve been expecting me?”

  I shrug, glad the calendar where I’ve been marking off the days is hidden on the back of my closet door. “Hoping.”

  He grins, tucks my hair behind my ear. “It’s getting long,” he says, stroking his fingers down the side of my face.

  Fire erupts in my stomach, and a giddy feeling prances through my chest. “I’ll let you cut it,” I say. “But we can do that later.” I snake my hands around his waist and hook my legs over his. Then I kiss him again, finally whole again now that he’s here.

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  Books by Elana Johnson

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