Time's Echo: A CHRONOS Files Novella

by Rysa Walker

  "We do belong together, Kiernan," she continues when I don't respond, turning in toward me and pulling her leg up over mine. "It's always been you."

  I've seen that look in her eyes many times before. While it's tinged with more than a bit of madness now, I'm sure that if I give her even the slightest encouragement, she'll be out of that black dress, determined to kiss and make up. Among other things. That's definitely not going to happen, but I need to stall as long as possible before I let her in on that bit of information.

  I place my hands on her shoulders and push back, just the tiniest bit. "Pru—no."

  Her eyes narrow and then she shoves me, hard. The back of my head whacks against the wall behind the bed. Even though it's not the spot that was injured, the impact still has me reeling.

  "Damn it, Pru! Why'd you do that?"

  She just stares at me, her face morphing from anger to confusion to remorse in a matter of seconds. And these expressions look genuine, heartfelt, unlike the clownish ones she's been wearing. It's almost like watching a small child who hasn't learned how to hide her emotions.

  Then she takes a deep breath and her mask is back up. "I'm sorry. I…you frightened me for a moment."

  The hell I did. She was just pissed that I said no.

  So I rephrase, very carefully. "Please let me finish, Pru. I want to make this right with you, but I can barely remember the past year. My head feels like it's been trampled by a herd of elephants. I'm still covered in blood and mud and god knows what else. I need a shower, sleep, food, aspirin—or something stronger if I can get it. Maybe then I'll remember more and we can…talk."

  She stares at me for a long time before she speaks. "You're right. Let's get you to Nuevo Reino. June can check out your head and repair any damage. There's a lot going on right now and we need you back on your feet."

  Nuevo Reino—or the Farm, as most of us call it—has been the main Cyrist compound since the early 1900s. My mum and I were among the small group of Cyrists who merged with a larger group called the Koreshan Unity, when they relocated to a remote settlement in Florida in 1895, a few months before I turned ten. A guy by the name of Cyrus Teed was the leader of the group and he called the place New Jerusalem. I don't know if Saul chose the name Brother Cyrus with this guy in mind or if it was just a wild coincidence, but Cyrus Teed was one of the more convincing self-proclaimed messiahs of the late 1800s. Several hundred people, mostly women, handed over all their worldly goods and followed him into a mosquito-ridden swamp. They even gave up sex and family life. In exchange, Cyrus—or Koresh, as he called himself—promised to take care of their basic needs and, if they were really, really good they'd become immortal.

  Mum was just happy to get away from Chicago after my father died, and I'm guessing she thought the change would be good for me, too. The Farm wasn't a bad place to grow up, really. The Koreshans were pretty big on education and the arts, and I never minded the outside chores that some of the other kids grumbled about. Teed had some weird beliefs, like the earth being hollow with everyone living on the inside, but we rarely saw him, and most of the people seemed pretty normal. Nice, even.

  Teed died suddenly when I was twelve, presumably at the hands of some non-believers from Ft. Myers. There were plenty around who didn't like the group or Teed, including local law enforcement, and no one was ever charged. The Koreshans put his body in a metal bathtub and kept watch around the clock, waiting for Teed to rise up from the dead as he'd promised. Three days later, Prudence used her CHRONOS key to "magically" appear just behind the tub where Teed was ripening fast. Claiming to be the new incarnation of Cyrus, Prudence scooped up the land, the money, and the followers. It was a smooth, painless coup for everyone other than Koresh and handful of his most devout followers. The others fell into line, and by the late 1960s, Cyrist International was the largest landowner in the state of Florida.

  Teed once vowed his New Jerusalem would eventually be home to ten million followers. That was actually an underestimate, but his people follow a new Cyrus now.

  I nod toward the medallion, which hangs from Prudence's neck by a long gold chain. "Getting to the Farm is going to be a problem. First, I don't have a key."

  She flashes me a triumphant grin, reaching into her pocket and producing a second medallion attached to a thick silver chain. "Problem solved."

  CHRONOS keys look alike, for the most part. They're round and flat, sized to fit comfortably in the palm of your hand. If you have the genetic ability to work the thing, you see a colored light, which is a different color for everyone. It's blue for Kate, and green for me. There's an hourglass in the middle, with sand going from one side to the other in a continuous loop. Someone without the gene sees a plain bronze-colored medallion with a static hourglass in the middle.

  So, to the casual observer, the key Prudence handed me is no different than the one Kate gave me, currently hidden under a bandage and two layers of clothing. Still, I'd be able to pick this specific medallion out of any lineup. The chain is new, but this was my da's key. I've worn it every day since his death when I was eight. They didn't even bother to clean it—there's still a smudge of grease along the edge from the cuffs I wore in the magic act.

  I don’t ask Prudence how she managed to get her hands on my key, but just go on with what I was saying before she gave it to me. "Second, there's no way I can make a jump in this condition. I need rest. It's not happening before tomorrow. Maybe not even then."

  Even though that's probably an exaggeration, I have some things I need to take care of here in Boston before I go.

  Pru is silent for a moment. Then she stands up and snatches the medallion out of my hand.

  "Shouldn't you leave the key?" I ask.

  "Why? So that you can lose another one?"

  My jaw tightens but I don't respond.

  "I'll send June back in the morning. With a key, for when you're able to travel. Founder's House, nineteen-hundred hours, five-thirty, twenty-thirty. Don't dawdle. We need everyone on deck."

  That's 7:00 p.m. on May 30, 2030 at the main residence. Which probably means Saul will be there, too. I've only had the pleasure of his acquaintance on two occasions, neither of them actually pleasant. He humors me because of Prudence. Otherwise, I'd have been written off long ago as too genetically flawed to be of interest.

  "Something big going on?" I ask.

  "Yes. This should double our numbers and get a few leaders situated. Patterson's hands are tied where she is now—that guy who said the vice-presidency isn't worth a pitcher of warm spit was right."

  "So, why do you need me? It sounds like your dominos are all in place."

  "Most of them, yes. But we never know exactly where those dominos will fall, do we? This isn't an exact science. You'll be helping Simon monitor a few…developments." Prudence picks up her CHRONOS key and brushes her fingers over the top to activate it. "And try to keep him in line this time, okay? We don’t need another Cincinnati."

  I run a quick mental calculation and decide that I probably should remember that disaster, at least as far as Prudence knows. "No, we don't. But why am I stuck with Simon-sitting?"

  Simon and I have barely spoken for well over a year. And while my relationship with Kate made the situation worse, my tolerance for his asinine behavior was wearing thin long before she was in the picture.

  "You're not still worked up over that silly squabble, are you? The two of you patched that up, whatever it was, months ago. Simon was so worried when you didn't show up yesterday."

  It's hard not to laugh. Pru used to be a half-decent liar, but the look she's wearing now wouldn't fool a baby.

  "Really?" I say. "Maybe Simon's finally growing up, then."

  Hopefully my lying-face is better than hers, because I have very serious doubts on that front. I might be willing to believe that he's bored without me around, but Simon only worries about Simon. Although he'll sometimes pretend concern for Prudence's welfare, I doubt it's out of any real affection for her. More likely, he'
s just sucking up.

  "Simon is what Simon is," Pru says with a shrug. "I trust you'll keep an eye on him."

  I suspect what she really means is that Simon will be keeping an eye on me. But if I find out he had anything to do with my misadventure in the alley, I'm going to kick his ass. And if he had anything to do with Kate disappearing, he'll either help me find her or I'll do far worse than that.

  Prudence pulls up her location and it looks like she's about to leave when something catches her eye and she moves toward me. She stares at my foot, which is resting on the edge of the mattress, then flicks out her index finger and scrapes something off the bottom of my big toe with her fingernail.

  She looks down at her fingertip for a moment, confused. Her eyes narrow and she holds up the finger to show me a small, pale green glow-star stuck to the pad.

  I just stare at her, fearing my cover is blown. She was never here after Kate put the stars up, but they sure as hell don't exist in 1905. The only way something of Kate's would still be here is if it was protected by a CHRONOS field. If she puts the pieces together…

  Her face breaks into a smile instead. "Look, Kiernan. It's one of the little stars we put on the ceiling last month. Before we made love. It was romantic, wasn't it?"

  She peels the little star off her finger and then flips it around, pressing the sticky side to her chest.

  "I think I'll keep this. It's my lucky star."

  ∞5∞

  Jess is behind the counter when I arrive at the store, a few minutes before nine the next morning. He's in his usual suit and tie, but his face looks as tired as I feel and I wonder if he got any sleep. I've been thinking through what I should tell him the entire walk over, how much I can say without making things worse or giving him false hope. I'm still not sure.

  He glances up at the door chime when I walk in, his eyes cautious.

  "Morning, Jess. Amelia upstairs?"

  "Nope. She left for the market about twenty minutes ago. I suspect she'll be out for an hour or more, since Martha Nellers went along and they like to gab, but I don't know. She was pretty nervous about leaving me. I told her you'd be along shortly. Glad to see I was right about that."

  "I told you I'd come, Jess. Did you really need help stocking the Cavendish?"

  "No. Already did it. But run in the back and grab some soda bottles. You can stock the icebox while we talk."

  I push aside a couple of boxes in the storeroom and grab one of the empty wooden soda cases, so I can stock a few bottles of each variety. I feel an odd tug in my chest as I stick in two of Kate's favorite Clicquot Club Ginger Ale, along with assorted colas, birch beers, and four bottles of Moxie. That Moxie stuff is truly gross, but Jess sells a lot of it. Kate was surprised that one of the ingredients is cocaine. That's still perfectly legal in 1905, and most likely why people keep coming back for more even though it tastes like cheap cough syrup.

  I carry the case back out to the icebox under Jess's front counter and kneel down to open the oak door on the bottom. Amelia uses this as their personal icebox as well—no sense spending money for two or hauling an extra block of ice upstairs—so I have to make room for the sodas by shuffling around a few blocks of cheese and something wrapped in butcher paper. Judging from the smoky scent, it's more of the bacon Amelia cooked for dinner last night. That reminds me that I haven't eaten since the sandwich and cookie she gave me. My stomach rumbles, but it can wait.

  Jess leans against the counter, looking down at me, as I reach over to grab a few bottles from the crate. "So," he begins, "you want to tell me what the hell is going on?"

  I sigh, trying to think where to start. "You remember that medallion I wear? The one that belonged to my father?" He nods, and I go on. "Well, it's not really what it appears to be. He got it from his da, back in Ireland. His da was…"

  I shove the bottles in, a bit harder than necessary. "Jess, I'm warning you this is gonna sound crazy. Bear with me okay?"

  He doesn't say anything, just waits as I stash two more bottles in the icebox. "My grandfather was a historian. He wasn't from Ireland originally. He was from America. He went over in 1851 to study an Gorta Mór, the Great Famine. And he sort of got stuck there."

  "Why would a historian go over to study the Famine in 1851?" Jess asks. "Wasn't that smack dab in the middle of it?"

  "It was," I answer. "He was there to observe an Gorta Mór as it happened. He'd only planned to stay a couple of days. I know that sounds pretty stupid, since it would take weeks to get there, but he didn't travel by ship, Jess. He traveled using that medallion. And not just from Washington, where he lived. He was also coming from a different time. Have you read that book by H. G. Wells? The Time Machine?"

  "No."

  "Well, I know you've read all of Mark Twain, so think about A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. Or Bellamy's Looking Backward. It's the same basic thing—"

  "Yeah, I guess, except for the little part about this being real life and those being bullshit."

  I chuckle. "It's bullshit alright, Jess, though maybe not in the sense you mean. I think I can prove part of it pretty easy, but it's likely to make you feel a little uncomfortable. Not as bad as last night, but it's not fun. Are you willing?"

  He furrows his brow, thinking about it, and finally gives me a nod.

  "Hold on," I say, sticking the last few bottles into the box. "Let me get the medallion out."

  "Thought you said those thugs in the alley took the medallion."

  "They did. This is a spare. Just a minute." I get to my feet and pull the medallion out of my pocket, unwrapping the handkerchiefs that I bundled around it before leaving the apartment. If one of Pru's spies was strolling about the neighborhood this morning, I definitely didn't want them to see it shining through my pants pocket. It would've been even safer to leave it taped to my leg, but Jess is a "show me" type of guy. I knew I'd need to do some sort of demonstration and I'd rather avoid dropping my pants to extract the key.

  I center the medallion in my palm, and then glance up at him. "I'm not a hundred percent sure this'll work, Jess—"

  He interrupts me with a snort. "That's still about a hundred percent more sure than I am."

  "No, I mean, the key—that is, the medallion—it definitely works. I'm just not sure I'm in good enough shape to manage it again after yesterday. But I'll give it a try…were you here in the store alone five minutes before I arrived? Amelia had already left?"

  "Yes…like I said, she left maybe twenty minutes before you came in."

  "Good." I run my fingers over the display and see that it's 8:57:23. I set the current spot as a stable point and then pull up the location in Jess's storeroom, a few minutes before I walked in the front door. "I'm gonna disappear, but I'll be back in about a minute. Maybe…maybe you should sit down?"

  "I'm fine where I am, boy. Get on with whatever it is you think you're doing."

  I glance back down at the medallion, fix the location, and blink. When I open my eyes, I'm looking at the cot where I slept for several months last year. I turn around and push open the door.

  Jess is behind the counter, arranging sticks of candy in the jar by the register. He doesn't hear me until I say, "Hey, Jess."

  He gives a quizzical glance at the bell over the door. "Didn't hear you come in."

  "I know, Jess. But you will hear me when I come in the door, about three minutes from now." And then I pull up the stable point behind the counter, set it for 08:57:30, and blink. It doesn't work the first time, so I focus and try again.

  I open my eyes to a rather flummoxed Jess, no longer back by the candy jars, but near the icebox where he was standing before I made the jump. He stares at me for a few seconds, then asks, "You want to tell me how you did that? Just flat out disappear like that?"

  "It's the medallion. It's called a CHRONOS key. I went back in time, Jess. Just a few minutes—that's probably all I'm capable of after yesterday. I use the medallion in the magic act and between doing it over and over out at Norum
bega and then getting whacked on the head, I'm worn out."

  "So, you're saying it's magic?"

  It would probably be easier to explain it to him if I did say it was magic, but that would be a lie. "No. Look at it this way—if your grandfather had seen a telephone, or an automobile, or a moving picture, he'd have thought those were magic, right? Even though they're not. It's like that—only this key is from about four hundred years in the future. In fact, almost exactly four hundred years. Like I was saying earlier, my granddad used his medallion to travel back to 1851 from the year 2305. Just to observe, to witness history firsthand. He was genetically…"

  I don't think genetics is even a word yet. So I take a different track.

  "My grandfather was stranded. Saul, another of these historians—well, he sabotaged the whole group. He's got this moneymaking scheme and he's planning on changing history, rather than just studying it. That's not a good thing, Jess, and some of us are trying to stop him. What you felt last night was him changing something. I'm not sure what, but it must have been a pretty big change. And it affected your family somehow."

  "So you're saying that's why I remember Irene, and also kind of don't remember her. The way I remember you walking out of that storeroom earlier, and I also can remember that it didn't happen, that the first time I saw you since last night was when you walked in through the front door."

  "Yes, that's about right. And it's not just Irene. I suspect there are gonna to be cases where someone walks in this shop and you know him—you've known him your whole life, but you'll also remember a past where he never existed."

  "Why doesn't Amelia remember? This change affected her, too. This would be a whole lot easier if she didn't think I was losing my wits."

  "Sorry about that, Jess. You were helping me—the shift happened when I stood up too fast. You grabbed me, and I guess you were in the CHRONOS field, that is, in the range of the medallion. Amelia wasn't."

  "So where is Irene?"

  I shake my head. "I don't know. I'm not sure she exists anymore. It sounds like something happened and your daughter only had two kids, the boys, and not Irene."