Shake

by Chris Mandeville

  Just yesterday she told me how she loved her job and didn’t want to be a diplomat. But I guess now she’s feeling a bit pushed out. Probably because Bel’s the one doing the pushing.

  “On the bright side, you won’t have to dye your hair or get your tattoos removed,” I tell her.

  “That’s right!” Bel says with fake enthusiasm. She strides to the circle on the wall and banks the door to the purple classroom.

  Sharrow gives me a look like a wounded puppy. “I guess I’ll go to Med. See you later, Allie?”

  “Of course.”

  She attempts a smile, then leaves.

  As soon as the door shuts, I head for Bel. As much as I want to ream her about how she treated Sharrow, I skip to the bigger issue. “I need to know something.” My voice sounds ominous, even to my own ears.

  Bel turns and looks me up and down. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Vee actually is your sister. Did you know that?” I scrutinize her reaction.

  Her brows shoot up, then scrunch down. “What are you talking about?”

  “Not just Vee, the whole crew. They’re our half siblings.”

  I watch her face and it’s like I can see the words registering, her brain calculating. “Oh my gods.”

  She didn’t know.

  “How could I have been so blind?” she says. “It all fits. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. They wouldn’t have all vanished from the records unless…”

  “Unless something happened that caused them never to be born,” I finish.

  “Like me killing Maxen,” she whispers. “It’s like I killed them all.”

  “No,” I say, though I’d thought the same thing. “The building collapsed. You didn’t do that. If that hadn’t happened, they’d be like us—time orphans.”

  “Instead they’re…gone forever.”

  “It doesn’t have to be forever.…”

  She looks at me with so much pain and regret, I think I have her. Then her eyes harden. “We can’t. We can’t go back.”

  “We have to. You need to convince your mom. Please, Bel. ”

  “You’re wasting my time.” She marches to the desk she used yesterday and drops into the chair. “Get to work.”

  I stare at her, but she avoids looking at me. What’s her damage? She should be all about going back to fix what she messed up.

  Whatever. I’ll do it without her.

  I sit at the computer and see the name of the test. “Ethics? Are you kidding me?”

  Without looking up, Bel says, “I’m supposed to tell you that this test requires complete and total honesty. Be yourself.” She says this like it’s in quotes.

  Be myself. About ethics. As if that would ever fly. Talk about a definite fail.

  I stare at the screen, delaying. I consider messaging Flyx. I want to—I really want to. But that’s exactly why I can’t. I don’t trust myself.

  I never should have gone with him last night. I never should have kissed him.

  I have to tell him it can never happen again.

  But not yet.

  I’ll tell him in person. With some distance between us.

  Might as well get on with the test. I wipe my palms on the legs of my jumper and hit “enter.”

  Question 1-A: Someone drops a valuable coin but doesn’t notice. What do you do?

  Easy. I’d slip the coin in my pocket and head to Micky D’s, which sounds really good right now.

  But of course I’m not actually going to say that. I type in the correct answer: I would return the coin.

  Question 1-B: In the above scenario, you are starving and the coin is the only way for you to obtain food. What would you do?

  Why would that matter? But again I type the answer they want: it doesn’t matter if I’m hungry. Returning the coin is the right thing to do.

  Question 1-C: In the above scenario, the person who dropped the coin is wealthy and will never miss is. What would you do?

  I don’t know why I was worried. I’ve totally got this.

  After a bazillion questions, each with parts A through Z, the screen displays TEST COMPLETE.

  “Done,” I tell Bel. “How many more are there?”

  She looks at me over her screen. “That was the final test.”

  I wasn’t expecting that. “Great! Can I go? I’m starving.”

  I bet I can find my way back to the Donut Shoppe. The coffee-flavored drink Flyx brought me yesterday has me reconsidering my opinion of liquid nutrition. Maybe they’ll have something like a strawberry shake. I’m tempted to fill my bottle and sneak back to the roof. Without Flyx this time. I have a morbid need to see what the city looks like in daylight, and I need to do that alone. Plus avoiding temptation is top priority.

  “Uh, hello?” Bel says, standing over me frowning.

  “Uh…yeah?”

  “Where were you? I was talking, and you zoned out or something.”

  Oops. “That happens sometimes when I’m hungry. I was thinking about food.” Could I sound any more lame?

  She goes to the door, shaking her head like she can’t believe what an idiot I am.

  I follow her into the waiting area.

  “Wait here. My mom will be here soon. See ya.” She exits though the main door, leaving me alone.

  That probably wasn’t her best idea. What’s to keep me from taking off?

  But I shove my instincts down. I’m better off if Dietrich thinks I’m cooperating.

  I sit with my legs tucked under me, wishing again I could access a game or music or something on my personal device. Given how many games have been played throughout history on phones and Gameboys, there has to be some sort of entertainment. People can’t have changed that much. I should ask Flyx.

  I tap the personal to tag him, but stop myself. Nope. Not gonna do that.

  The door swishes open and Dietrich enters.

  “Allison, I have your test results.”

  “How’d I do?” I think I did pretty well, and I’m curious how well. Like will she tell me how I scored compared to average?

  “Regretfully, your results were not good enough to warrant salvage. You’ll be recycled.”

  “What?” There’s no way I heard that right. “What?”

  “You’re being recycled. Now.”

  No. They can’t actually recycle me. “There’s got to be some mistake.” My heart races and sweat drenches my pits. “I knew the right answers.”

  “It wasn’t about correct answers. It was about being honest.”

  Oh, crap. “Wait, I didn’t realize. Let me take it again. I’ll do better.”

  “The decision is final. You’ll be recycled immediately.”

  “No, no, no! You can’t do that. Please.” What the hell happened? Flyx was so sure I was safe.

  For a split second, I see a trace of sadness on Dietrich’s face, then it’s gone. “Let’s go.” She grabs my arm and yanks me off the couch—I guess consent doesn’t matter when someone’s getting erased.

  I frantically look for a way to escape as she drags me through the outer door.

  “Don’t be stupid.” She pats a gun strapped to her hip. How did I miss that?

  As we head down the hall, I walk as slowly as possible, buying time. I don’t see any way out other than getting her to change her mind.

  “Doctor Dietrich, please. Think of all the time you’ve already invested in me. Let me retake the test.”

  “Not an option.”

  “No, listen—if you keep me around, I promise to make it worth your while. I can be really useful. I could spy for you or I could be a diplomat like Bel. I’d be great at that.”

  “Hardly.”

  “No really, I have all kinds of skills. I can help you. Let me prove it.”

  “Stop begging. It’s pathetic,” she says.

  “What can I do to get another chance? There has to be something.”

  “There’s nothing more to be done. We’re here.”

  “What?” We’re at the outer
door to Med. Wait, that’s good—Sharrow’s here. She’ll help me.

  The door opens and Calix is standing there.

  Dietrich shoves me toward him. “You know what to do.”

  “Wait—” I turn to plead with her, but the door closes. I turn back to Calix, remembering how kind he was before. Now his brown eyes are hard. Still, I have to try. “There’s been a mistake. I’m not supposed to be recycled.”

  He takes my arm and pulls me across the empty green waiting room, not saying a word.

  “You’re a doctor,” I say. “You’re not supposed to hurt people.”

  Still silent, he banks his personal and the door slides open to the medical room. It’s empty. No patients, no Sharrow.

  “Where’s Sharrow?” Panic wells in my throat. “Sharrow?” I call out.

  Calix leads me toward the beds. If he injects me with the paralyzing stuff, it’s over. I have to do something now.

  He’s a doctor—I can play on those instincts.

  “Ow, my ankle!” I drop to the ground, the sudden move jerking my arm free of his grip. My muscles tense—fight or flight? Flight? I won’t make it out the door—I’m sure my personal’s been deactivated. So fight? Calix looms over me, outweighing me by maybe double. Fight doesn’t seem any better.

  “Give me your hand,” he says.

  He reaches for me and my instincts kick in. I grab his hand and squeeze hard to draw his attention while I unlatch his personal device with my other hand. Once I palm it, I moan and fall back. “Owww, it hurts.” I roll to my side, facing away from him, and slip the personal into my jumper. I turn back and assess his reaction—I don’t think he noticed a thing.

  “I’ll carry you.”

  “No, let me try again.” I get my feet under me, and as I sense him leaning over to take my hand, I tuck my chin and push up hard, ramming my head into his jaw.

  He falls to the ground, slack. Did I knock him out?

  I’m not sticking around to find out. I use his personal and in seconds I’m through the door in a fight-and-flight combo.

  I bank the personal to get into the hallway, then sprint like I’m being chased, because it won’t be long before I am.

  I run down hallway after hallway, holding tight to Calix’s personal. My luck holds and I don’t see another soul, but I’m not sure where I am, or where I’m going.

  My luck won’t hold forever—I’ve got to get out of sight. I use the personal to access a door, and find myself in a BART station. I sprint across it and drop into the track area so I can escape through the train tunnel. But the mouth of the tunnel is bricked over. Please let it be camouflage! I hold the personal up, waving it back and forth. I’m on the verge of full-blown panic when a hidden door slides open. I step through and it shuts behind me, leaving me in pitch darkness.

  I wave my arms, hoping for motion sensor lights to kick on, but nothing happens. I remember Flyx using his personal as a flashlight when we crawled through the ductwork, so I push mine higher on my arm, strap Calix’s to my wrist, and tap the face.

  “Flashlight.”

  It works! I shine the beam around the tunnel. It’s filthy and cobwebby and littered with trash, and the train tracks are still in the ground. They obviously don’t use this tunnel. If I follow it, it should lead me away from their complex and out into the city.

  But out won’t get me back to 1906.

  Maybe I should head for Detention instead. Sharrow said Daum and Flyx were checking out the wormhole machine today. They could have fixed it.

  I turn back to access the secret door in the brick wall, but between me and the wall is a pile of broken concrete that goes to the ceiling. It’s got to be a hologram, but I touch a concrete slab and it feels solid. If I didn’t know better, I’d never believe there was a passage here at all.

  But it doesn’t matter—I’ve already come to my senses. The only thing waiting for me back that way is recycling. And if they recycle me, I’ll never get back to 1906. I won’t even know there is a back to get back to.

  I turn away from the rubble and head in the other direction. I’ll find a way to return when they’re not looking for me. As long as I stay alive—and stay me—there’s a chance I can get back to 1906.

  I head out, wishing I hadn’t lost track of my mental map. I don’t have any idea how far it is to the next station. Some of the BART stops downtown are pretty close together, but others are a lot farther apart. At least I’m sure of one thing—I’m not in the tunnel that goes under the Bay because my ears aren’t popping.

  After what seems like a mile, I see the end of the tunnel where it opens into the next station. I turn off the flashlight in case anyone’s there, and crouch low while I creep down the tracks. My eyes adjust and I scan the station—I’m the only one here. It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in a very long time. The walls are dark with grime and slime, with trickles of water running down them, and the floor’s got a layer of trash and dirt that must’ve been accumulating for decades.

  This place obviously doesn’t get used by the Resistance. Time to head outside.

  I spot one of those kiosks with the map of the routes. I jog over and rub the surface with my sleeve. The star marked “You Are Here” is at Montgomery Station. I know this part of town—right by the Palace Hotel.

  I dash for the stairs to the street, but when I reach the base, I hear something—voices.

  Adrenaline surges through my body, but it’s too late to run. A man and a woman are coming down, looking right at me.

  “Halt,” the woman says. She hurries down the last few steps, followed by the man. They’re in uniforms—military. With guns. Their hats have patches of a coiled snake.

  ASPs. Nazis.

  Shit! What do I do? Only scientists are supposed to be in this area—there’s no way can I pull off I’m a scientist.

  “Who are you?” the woman demands.

  I open my mouth to reply. The usual caught-off-guard Cockney accent is about to pop out, but I stop myself—Nazis don’t like foreigners.

  “Hello,” I say, in a perfectly plain, all-American newscaster accent.

  They look at me, more puzzled than suspicious, if I’m reading them right.

  “Who are you?” the woman repeats. “What are you doing here?”

  My brain flips past possible scenarios—who can I be? Why am I here? What do I say?

  My mouth hangs open, but nothing comes out.

  I can’t come up with a single answer.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Flyx

  Daum and I pause at the top of the staircase outside Detention. He looks nervous. Being honest, I am, too.

  I’m re-thinking, now. Not for me—I’m all in. But I shouldn’t risk Daum getting vanked. He has no stakes.

  I’m about to nix the mission when he stands up straighter, chin out.

  “Don’t worry—we got this,” he says. Reassuring me.

  Before I can stop him, he banks the door and steps inside. I can see he’s scared, but only a best could glim that. We should be okay.

  As per expected, Ogden and Lark are on.

  Ogden looks over, surprised but not alarmed, and gives a nod. “What’s down?”

  Lark alerts, suspicion crinkling the skin around her eyes—she’s the tougher sell.

  “Orders,” Daum says, crossing to the console. He banks his personal and a req populates the screen.

  I hold my resps, gauging Lark’s reaction. Luck—she glances and her concern fades.

  “Og, grab your stuff,” she says.

  Ogden doesn’t question, doesn’t even glance at the screen. He grunts an affirm and extracts his pack from under the desk.

  Then—bang-oh—the two exit. The whole thing took less than a minute.

  Daum gives a sally grin. “Doesn’t get more cinch than that.”

  This could have gone so many other ways. But no need or time to dwell. “Let’s get doing.” No tell how long it will take to cog how Dietrich disabled the machine. “Tools?�
�

  Daum cocks his head. “Not waiting for lockdown?”

  The lights turn yellow, a warning tone sounds, and there’s a buzz at the door indicating the auto-lock mech has activated. Simultaneously, I get the alert zap from my personal.

  “Right,” Daum says. “I’ll find those tools.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I stand there with my mouth open, staring at the two Nazis.

  Come on, brain, engage. Say something!

  Calix’s personal zaps my wrist and I jump, hugging it to my chest.

  The Nazis are probably wondering what the hell is wrong with me.

  “I’m a little jumpy. You surprised me.” Surely they noted that my “jump” was two minutes after they arrived, after I said hello.

  What was that zap, anyway? Did someone discover I have the personal? Are they using it to track me? I’m an idiot—I should have dumped both personals back in the tunnel.

  “What exactly are you doing here?” the woman asks. Her reddish-pink skin is blotchy, her features pinched like a weasel.

  “I’m new.” I pause, hoping she’ll fill in some details for me. But she doesn’t, so I keep scrambling. “I was stretching my legs and got turned around. I guess I’m not supposed to be in this area?”

  “You’re certainly not,” the man says. He’s tall and bald with round features, his expression kind. He looks old enough to be my dad. I glance at his hand—he’s wearing a wedding ring, so maybe he is a dad. Maybe I can appeal to his fatherly instincts.

  “I didn’t mean to break the rules,” I say, trying to project a helpless vibe. “I got lost.”

  “Who are you?” the weasel-woman insists.

  What do I say? “I…I uh…” Suddenly I remember Bel’s new job. “I’m an apprentice,” I blurt. “I just started my training. Oh, why did I have to wander off? I’m going to be in so much trouble.”

  “Who are you apprenticing with?” the man asks.

  “She’s going to be so angry,” I say, not giving a name. I look up at the man with my best puppy dog eyes. “I don’t want to get in trouble. I have to do well at my new job.”