Shake

by Chris Mandeville

  “First of all, there’s no ‘we,’” I say. “I’m going back to stop you. And it won’t be hard to avoid seeing myself—you and I didn’t see each other on the morning of the quake before we met at the wormhole. So I go back before that, and make sure you don’t shoot Maxen.”

  I hold my breath, my stomach in knots. Please, please, please.

  Finally she says, “What’s in it for you?”

  “I get my life back, too.”

  “Oh. So you want to do more than just stopping me from shooting Maxen,” she says in an accusing tone. “How many times do I have to say it—you can’t change history. It only gets worse.

  “I don’t want to change history. I want to change it back. You know as well as I do that my mom and the crew aren’t supposed to die there any more than Maxen. Plus, for you to get your life back, Maxen’s life has to go forward exactly like it did before. That means he has to get in the wormhole with my mom. I get my life back, you get yours. And the crew doesn’t die either. Come on, Bel. Please. I know I can do this.”

  She stares at me, biting her upper lip. I watch her expressions closely, but have no idea which way she’s going to go.

  Finally she nods. “Okay.”

  “Okay what?”

  “Okay I agree that to get our lives back, the crew—ourselves included—can’t show up at the wormhole during the quake. Then no one gets killed, your mom and our dad go forward with their lives like they did before, and we get our lives back.”

  I let out a long breath.

  “But,” she says.

  Damnit, why’d there have to be a but? “But what?”

  “I still don’t see how you think you’re going to change my mom’s mind about time travel. She never changes her mind.”

  I swallow, hoping I’ve played this right. “But she did change her mind. About you being her daughter because of that report.”

  “Yeah…”

  “The report she gets tomorrow will say her plan all along has been for me to travel back to 1906. She doesn’t remember that plan because there’s been a change in the timeline, but she’ll trust the report because she thinks it came from herself.”

  “Lemme guess—your pal Flyx is in on this.”

  “He’s the one giving her the report.”

  Bel nods. “And you want for me to what? Stay out of the way?”

  “Pretty much. For this to work, you can’t tell her your memory is different from what the report says.”

  Bel nods again.

  “Then I’ll go back to 1906 and make everything right,” I say. “I promise. I’ll get your old life back. You have my word.”

  “Your word? That’s sweet. But I don’t need it. I’m coming with you.”

  Shit.

  As soon as I can, I say goodnight to Bel, close my door, and dive under the covers to message Flyx.

  “Are you there? I have good news and bad news.”

  It’s really late, and I tell myself not to expect a message back, but he answers immediately.

  FLYX: tell me

  “Bel agreed to the plan!”

  FLYX: how’d you manage that?

  “All that pretending to be her bestie and bagging on Sharrow—I’m not proud of it, but it paid off.”

  FLYX: so that’s the good news or the bad?

  “What I did to Sharrow is awful. But the bad news is that Bel is coming to 1906 with me.”

  FLYX: so? I’m sure you can pretend to be her friend a little longer

  “It’s not that.” I hesitate. What I did to Sharrow pales compared with what I did in 1906. Flyx already thinks I’m a horrible person. I can’t tell him what I did, but I have to tell him something. “The problem is, I lied. About something really big. If Bel comes to 1906, she’s going to find out.”

  FLYX: we’ll figure out something

  He doesn’t ask me what I lied about. That’s good, I guess, but I don’t feel good about it. He’s probably imagining the worst. Or he just doesn’t care.

  “I hope you’re right.”

  A whole minute passes, and Flyx doesn’t respond, so I continue. “So you’ll fix the report to say Bel and I are both going?”

  FLYX: done

  “Cool.”

  If I’m being honest with myself, I want him to ask to meet up. I need to know he doesn’t hate me.

  I tell myself it doesn’t matter what he thinks of me. I’ll be gone soon. Back to my real life—Jake, Bibi, the Main, pulling cons on tourists.

  But it does matter.

  “Okay, goodnight,” I say.

  I deactivate the personal without waiting for a response, then bury my face in my pillow and sob.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “Are you going to sleep all day?”

  I pull my head out from under my pillow. Bel. “I’m not falling for that again.” I roll over and pull the covers to my chin.

  “I’m not joking. Look.”

  She holds out her arm, displaying the time. “Shit!” I bolt up and shove back the covers. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

  She shrugs. “Splash some water on your face—you look like a corpse.”

  “Thanks a lot.” I’m sure she’s right, but it’s not exactly BFF-like to say so, especially not before caffeine. “Coffee?”

  “No time.”

  Ten minutes later, we walk into Dietrich’s office, and Flyx is standing with her behind the desk. I should have been expecting him, but seeing him puts me off balance. Or maybe it’s the lack of caffeine. Yeah, I’ll go with that.

  “Hi Mom,” Bel says, all innocence and light.

  Dietrich looks from Bel to me. “You’d both better sit down.”

  I lower myself into a chair. I should be excited since I know what’s coming. But all I feel is dread.

  “Apparently there’s been a history-change,” Dietrich says, sounding grim. “A significant one.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” Bel says. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I can help.”

  Nice.

  “It won’t be news to you since you’re Jennys,” Dietrich says. “But I don’t have any memory of it. According to my report, we have an operative in 1906 who has information vital to stopping the ASPs. He’s injured and unable to travel, so I need a team to go back and retrieve the information.”

  “That’s not exactly correct,” Bel says.

  What the… Is she improvising? Flyx and I look at each other. He gives a slight shrug.

  “That operative is my father,” Bel says. “And the mission is not just about retrieving information. The mission is to bring him back.”

  Dietrich picks up a tablet and scowls at it. “I don’t see where…”

  “Mom.” Bel leans forward. “Dad is the only one who can stop the ASPs. That’s why you sent him back, and why we need him to return. That’s the mission. It’s always been the mission. Trust me. Trust in our plan—the plan you and I made together. Trust us.”

  Slowly Dietrich sets the tablet down. She nods. “I do trust you, Bel.”

  I’m impressed at Bel’s skill, but she changed the plan. We were never supposed to retrieve Beck. To do that, we have to go back to before I killed him, several days prior to the quake. How am I going to explain that?

  Dietrich straightens in her chair. “The information repository is in place for a reason. I trust it, and I trust you three.” She looks from Bel, to me, to Flyx. “We’re on a one-week countdown—better get to work.”

  “A whole week?” I blurt.

  Dietrich frowns at me. “It will take that long for Flyx’s tattoo to be removed.”

  What? Flyx coming was not part of the plan. I look at Bel and her face is a blank. Did she know?

  “Hopefully less than a week,” Flyx says, shooting me a glance that says shut up.

  “We need to leave as soon as possible,” I say. “We should go without him. We should leave now.”

  “But my notes clearly say he’s essential to the plan,” Dietrich says, narrowing her eyes. “What’s goin
g on here?”

  “Nothing. Allie’s just anxious.” Bel turns to me with a look of warning. “Allie, we talked about this, remember? It doesn’t matter when we leave—we can always go back to the same point in history.”

  “That’s good,” Flyx pipes in. “Because even without the tattoo removal, I don’t know how much time I’ll need to refit the wormhole machine.”

  Bel and Flyx are both looking at me, silently screaming to keep my mouth shut.

  “Right. Sorry,” I say, backing down. If I’m not careful I’m going to blow this. “Bel’s right—I’m anxious.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Bel says. “I’ll take Allie to the mall and get started on our clothing.”

  Flyx nods. “I’ll meet you after I scope the wormhole repair. I can talk to Tryda about my tattoo—maybe there’s a way I can be ready to leave sooner.” He looks at me apologetically.

  I look away. I’m still pissed. They both changed the plan without talking to me.

  Bel and I exit into Dietrich’s chambers, and I wheel on Bel. “What the—”

  “Later.” She banks her personal to the yellow wall.

  As we walk to the mall, I try to wrap my brain around this new scenario. Flyx has never traveled before. Even though he monitors history for his job, I doubt he knows enough about 1906 to fit in. With a week to prep, he might squeak by, but the mere fact of him being in 1906 could change things in ways we can’t predict.

  And an even bigger problem: how am I going to keep Bel from finding out I killed her dad?

  I’m finally going back to 1906—I should be excited. But with Bel and Flyx coming, I don’t see how it can go well.

  I try Bel again. “We need to talk.”

  “You have the patience of a gnat. Can’t you ease out for one more minute?”

  I press my lips together.

  We head down a flight of stairs and through a steel door. Now I can hear the mall in the distance.

  “Okay,” Bel says close to my ear. “What?”

  “Did you know?”

  “Of course not.”

  “What the hell’s he thinking? Why’s he suddenly coming with us?”

  “Isn’t that obvious?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “He’s in love with you. Or he thinks he is. Gods, you really are obtuse.”

  “But…no. I mean he did like me, but then stuff happened. He, he saw things, he learned things about me, and now he thinks I’m horrible.”

  “Thinking and feeling are two different things,” she says, as if this explains everything.

  “What are you talking about?”

  She shakes her head like I’m hopeless. “Haven’t you ever had a thing for someone you don’t even like?”

  “Wait, what?”

  “You really are a nafe, and not only about time travel.”

  Could Flyx be in love with me, even after everything that happened? I remember the way he looked at me, remember how it felt when we kissed… Could it be that way again? I’m thinking of the kiss, and Bel looks over and laughs at me.

  “Shut up!”

  “Fine. But get your head out of the clouds. We’ve got heaps to do, starting with getting our clothes made.”

  “What happened to the stuff we arrived in?”

  “Incinerated,” Bel says. “I already pulled pics and patterns from the archives for our outfits. I’ll have to do that for Flyx now, too, since he won’t have a clue. You know he doesn’t have a clue about any of this, right?”

  “How is this even going to work?”

  “It won’t. It can’t. You need to talk him out of coming.”

  In the past two hours, Bel and I got measured, picked fabrics for our dresses, and selected a pattern and fabric for Flyx. One week’s not enough time to have shoes made, so we chose from existing stock. I’d have loved to wear the blue boots Bel gave me, but there’s no way that would fly, so I picked some practical brown boots that aren’t nearly as cute. To my surprise, Bel went practical, too. At least for her. There’s no way I could wear cream-colored boots with three-inch heels—I’d fall in a mud puddle in the first five minutes.

  Now Bel’s off looking for containers for medicines and toiletries that won’t look out of place in 1906, and I’m trying to find a passable travel bag.

  I can’t stop thinking about what Bel said—Flyx is in love with me. It makes me feel all woogly, but I wish it didn’t. If I’m going to fix the past, I have to be over him. And I have to convince him to stay in 2053.

  For the thousandth time, I glance around looking for him, and this time I spot him. My stomach does a flip. I wave and he jogs over.

  “Hey.” His voice is low and smooth, like a caress.

  My palms are suddenly sweaty, my mouth dry. “Hi,” I croak.

  “I’m sorry. About before,” he says. “I should have told you, but I didn’t want you to tell me not to.”

  “About that….”

  “Hey, Bel,” he says, looking over my shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” Bel says. “We don’t have time for standing around.”

  “Ease out, I just got here,” Flyx says. “And…” He looks mischievous. “I fixed the wormhole machine.”

  “Already?” I exclaim. “That’s fantastic!”

  “Good,” Bel says. “Now we,” she gestures from herself to me, “can be on our way.”

  I give her a sharp look, trying to convey that I haven’t had time to talk to him yet.

  “You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” Flyx says.

  “You’re not coming if you don’t get that tattoo taken care of,” Bel says. “Better see to that.”

  “Done.” Flyx opens his hand and shows her a tube. “Semi-perm makeup. Won’t come off with a hose.”

  “Fine,” Bel says with a huff. “Go do your measurements and meet us in Orange in ten. You have a lot of history to learn.”

  “You forget, history’s my job,” Flyx says.

  “Seriously, nafe?” Bel cocks her hands on her hips. “You think being a loggie has prepped you for this?” She chuckles without humor. “You have no idea.”

  She flips her hair and marches off.

  Flyx and I look at each other.

  “She’s right, you know,” I say softly.

  “Allie, come on,” Bel shouts.

  I jog to catch up with her.

  Chapter Forty

  Flyx

  Roleplay was a disaster. Bel said I was nox, the worst she’d ever seen, that I’d def jeopardize the mission and I should back out. Allie didn’t defend me. She nodded.

  But there’s no way I’m quitting, so I’m going hard at the tutorial modules while Allie and Bel build a cover story.

  Now it’s well past midnight, I have a screen-headache, I’m wiped, and I’m starving. But I’m not stopping, at least not until they do.

  Allie looks exhausted, too. It makes me want to go to her. But I force my focus back to the language tutorial. I didn’t cog how different they talked in 1906. It’ll be near impossible for me to speak without vanking our cover. Maybe I can pretend to be mute.

  “I’m going home to sleep for a few hours,” Bel says.

  Finally.

  “You coming?” she asks Allie.

  “Not yet.”

  “Samewise,” I say. If Allie’s not leaving, I’m not.

  “You should stay all night,” Bel tells me. “But Allie doesn’t have a personal, so take her to Middies when she’s done. In the morning, I’ll tag up when to meet back.”

  She gathers her things and leaves without a goodbye.

  When the door shuts, I turn to Allie. “Does she really have to come with us to 1906?”

  “It’s late. Maybe we should head to Middies now after all.”

  “I was hoping we could talk…”

  “No,” she says, rising and coming toward me. “Tomorrow will be a long day.” She pins me with her gaze and mouths roof, then puts her finger to her lips.

  “Affirm. We’d better get some
rest,” I say for whoever might be listening.

  Allie looks stunning in the moonlight, and I want to kiss her more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I step as close as I dare. “Consent?”

  “I…that’s not why I wanted to come up here. There’s something I need to tell you.” She looks so serious.

  I realize there’s something I need to say—I don’t want any secrets between us. “I need to tell you something, too.”

  “Okay,” she says. “You first.”

  I go to the wall and look out at the dark ruins, getting my thoughts together. For a moment I question—do I really need to confess? She’ll probably never find out.

  But I realize that doesn’t matter. I need to come clean for my own sake.

  She steps beside me and I turn to her. “Okay, please cog there’s nothing to worry about—I’m only telling you because I don’t want to keep anything from you.” I look into her eyes, willing her to understand. “Dietrich asked me to spy on you.”

  “What? When?”

  “When she caught me giving priv info about Kaitlin. I let her cog that what she had on me was enough to make me her spy. But I never was. Not for a minute.”

  “That’s how you got yourself out of trouble?”

  “I never told her anything that would compromise you, I swear.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “Only things that wouldn’t hurt you or bollix the plan. And I used it to our advantage, getting access—”

  “How do I know you’re not playing both sides?”

  “If I were, why would I tell you? I promise, Allie, I’m on your side, one hundred. I always have been. Even when I was saving my hind, I never betrayed you, not actual. If I was against you, why would I have gone along with the report that’s allowing us to travel?”

  “But now you’re coming, too. So you can keep spying?”

  “No, I swear, I—” I see the turmoil behind her eyes. I think she wants to believe me, but is afraid to trust me, to trust that my intentions are pure. Instead of pleading my case harder, I need tell her what’s in my heart.