by Julie Cross
Her eyes, her voice, those words … In an instant the agent in me dissolved. The narrow-minded rage had dissipated, bringing more clarity than I wanted right now. I released her immediately and backed away, feeling my knees go weak. Dad had a source … He was checking up on Holly and Adam for me … He would have told me if something had happened … unless … Hadn’t Emily said things kept changing…? “How did this happen?”
“You killed one of my best friends.” She turned around to face me, her eyes pleading with mine, but for what? “This is how it goes, right? Nobody gets caught and gets away with it.”
“I don’t know,” I stuttered, trying to keep up with this crazy turn of events. This wasn’t in the training manual. There was no protocol to follow.
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes tight. A few more tears tumbled out. “Can I please call my mother? I need to hear her voice … just for a second…”
It felt like someone had ripped my heart right out of my body, that was how much her words hurt me. She thinks I want to kill her … How could this happen? Who would put Holly in the FBI or the CIA or whatever the hell organization gave her a gun and an assignment?
The floor creaked loudly as I approached her again. Her chest stopped moving and she held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter.
I picked up her hand and turned it palm up, placing her gun on top. My fingers lingered over hers and I whispered, “I would never hurt you, Holly … ever. Just leave … It’s okay.”
Her eyes flew open, staring straight into mine. She tightened her hands around the gun and knocked me out of the way. It was a very predictable move, but I let myself fall down, for her benefit. I stayed sitting on the hardwood floor, while she pointed the gun at me again and backed up slowly toward the front door. I could see the confusion and relief flickering in her eyes, and then pain clouding everything. “He was a really amazing person … I can’t believe you—”
“I know,” I said, choking back my own tears. “I know he was.”
My face had dropped to my hands and I didn’t even see her leave, but I heard the door shut quietly. The first thought to come to mind was, I can’t have her back. Not the girl I loved in the future. Those timelines were gone, leaving me only with a version of Holly whose life had taken some serious turns for the worse. Someone was doing this. It wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be.
Thomas trying to screw with my head again.
And Adam … What had I done to get him killed? It hurt too much to even contemplate tonight. I just wanted to crawl under my bed and hide out until someone told me what to do … who to save, where to go. If only I could flip a switch and go into mechanical mode so I didn’t have to feel any of it. Just work … nothing else.
I lifted myself off the floor and collapsed onto my bed, but the second my eyes drifted shut, Adam’s voice invaded my thoughts. Had I ever even told him … how cool it was to have one person in my life whom I could tell everything? This was completely true. I kept secrets from my dad, from Holly, but Adam knew all of it.
He’s gone.
He was gone the second I jumped to this timeline because I erased him, like I’d erased my Holly. Except I always had a method of convincing him. His code. That had stayed in the back of my mind, like a favorite place you could keep coming back to.
May nineteenth … May 19, 2009 … afternoon.
That was the only nudge I needed to jump back. Thomas-jump, Thomas-jump … Please be a Thomas-jump. But my insides burned and ripped to pieces immediately. A half-jump … which meant … failure. Complete and utter failure.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MAY 19, 2009
Holly hadn’t misled me. This was the right date. Adam was alone in his house when I found him. The front door unlocked. The neighbors’ kids splashing around in their pool next door. And Adam, sprawled out on his living room floor, blood seeping through his pant leg.
“Fuck!” he said when he heard me walking across the floor. “Not another one.”
I could see his head rising, and eventually he sat all the way up. I ran over to him, dropping to the floor beside his leg. “Adam! You’re okay … I mean, it’s just your leg.”
His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. “Jackson! What the hell are you doing here?”
I had just started applying pressure to his leg wound with a dust cloth that was lying on the coffee table, but I froze when he said my name. “You know who I am?” This version of Adam shouldn’t know me any more than Agent Holly knew me.
He pressed his hands to the side of his head, wincing and squeezing his eyes shut. “Yeah … I mean, in theory … sort of. Oh, no—you aren’t here to change this, right? You can’t!”
“No,” I said bitterly. “This won’t change a thing … unfortunately.”
“Good.” His breathing had become labored, but he opened his eyes, looking at me intensely. “I have a source … a great source. Just let this go. Let me go.”
“Adam, it’s just your leg,” I said, pressing harder on his bloody jeans. Why was I even trying? Obviously it wasn’t just his leg.
He shook his head, as if reading my thoughts. “I saw things … I time-traveled and … oh, damn, my head is fucking killing me.”
My eyes traveled from the bleeding leg to his face, and it was like everything moved in slow motion and I already knew what was coming. He lifted a hand from the side of his face and both of us stared, horror-stricken. Sticky red blood covered his palm and dripped between his fingers. I couldn’t breathe or move. He collapsed onto his back, giving me a clear view of the dark red, almost purple oozing from his ear.
My hands no longer pressed on the leg wound. The panic had left, leaving only grief. I was here to watch him die. Or just leave him, and I knew what that would do to me. Tears fell from my eyes and I didn’t try to stop them.
“There’s surveillance cameras … CIA-planted devices,” he croaked. “The corner of Lexington and Ninety-second Street … find the pictures … hack into the system … whatever you can do … two months ago … March fifteenth…”
“What? What are you talking about?” I leaned in closer. “Adam … who did this to you?”
He closed his eyes again, his breathing jagged and inconsistent. “It was just … an accident … accident.”
Oh, God … no. “Was it me? Did I do this?”
He didn’t answer, and I reached out desperately and shook him. “Adam! Was it me? Did I try and take you somewhere?”
“No,” he gasped. “It wasn’t you.”
My fingers were still tangled around the front of his shirt and I couldn’t bring myself to let go. Why let go? Why hold on? Any gains I ever made would end up like this. Where was my end, and could I just jump there and get it over with?
I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and noticed Adam had gone completely still. Adam … my best friend … gone. All logic disappeared and I shook him again, harder this time. “Please wake up! Please! I can’t fix this … I can’t do anything right.”
His hand opened as his entire body relaxed. A wad of paper fell from his palm and somehow I managed to open it, recognizing his writing immediately.
JACKSON,
Something’s happening to the world right now and I can’t figure it out. Agent Collins and I are doing everything we can to solve the puzzle. I remember pieces of meeting you, as if it happened in a dream or a retelling of a story I was too young to remember. But that part doesn’t matter, only that I know who you are … I know you’re not bad. I know Tempest isn’t bad. But Eyewall … I don’t know much about them. Even though I thought I did.
Keep looking for clues. Keep asking questions and whatever you do, DO NOT fix this!
ADAM
It took me only about two seconds to figure out why Holly thought I’d done this to him. An EOT found this note … They knew Adam was figuring things out … They knew they needed to frame me to add fuel to the fire. To keep Eyewall wanting to hunt us down.
I folded the not
e and stuffed it back into Adam’s hand, wishing I could take it with me.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered to him before jumping back to my present day and time.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JUNE 17, 2009, 11:52 P.M.
“It’s completely clean in here,” Kendrick said, crawling out from underneath my bed.
“Check under the sink with the metal detector … run it over the pipes,” Stewart said from behind my laptop.
I’d been sitting on my bed, leaning against the wall, staring at the TV for almost two hours. Complete numbness … that was all I felt at the moment and I was afraid if I moved, even just a little, that would change.
“Blondie’s not in any of the recent surveillance photos taken of Eyewall agents,” Stewart said.
Obviously. No way would I have missed that.
“Would she really be working for Eyewall?” Kendrick asked from under the sink. “I thought she was just some average girl.”
“Probably not, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t,” Stewart said. “Think about it … Jackson left her in another timeline to keep her safe. Her diary’s floating around … Obviously, he’s been set up for this. The diary was in Agent Meyer Senior’s place. Someone meant for Jackson to find it. Not only is he trying to avoid contact with her, she’s been brainwashed to hate his guts.”
I inhaled slowly, focusing on the Mets game on the TV in front of me.
Kendrick came out from under the sink and adjusted her dress. “You’re right, she could just be a pawn … and Adam Silverman, too, although it sounds like he’s got some useful skills.”
Had some useful skills.
“So, do you think Agent Meyer knew? That she was involved in the CIA?” Kendrick asked, tentatively because she knew how Stewart and I might react.
“No,” Stewart said firmly, closing that door quicker than it had been opened. “Let’s not forget that Blondie was at Healy’s event … even though you manipulated that situation. She acted really bizarre. I listened in on most of her chat with Jackson.”
They had stopped including me in the conversation over an hour ago when I’d stopped answering questions. Once I heard the details—Adam Silverman, senior at George Washington High School in Newark, New Jersey … soon-to-be MIT freshman … died May 19, 2009 … cause of death … accident in the home.
Right. An accident.
“Holy fuck!” Stewart shouted, jumping up from the couch. “Why didn’t I remember this?”
From the corner of my eye, I saw her open the closet door and pull out the big bag of Mason’s stuff, the one she hadn’t touched since taking the T-shirt and sweatpants from it this morning. When she removed his laptop, I could sense the reluctance as she carried it over to the couch like it might explode or shatter any second.
“Mason did some crazy computer-geek shit and if she had an earpiece in or any communication device that night, it should be recorded here.”
“How is that possible?” Kendrick sat down next to Stewart, leaning close to the computer screen. “He would have had to stream it through the Internet and that would make it available to anyone.”
Stewart let out a deep breath and turned the computer toward Kendrick. “Yep … he streamed all the radio communications within a half mile of the area and had it encrypted to the hard drive. Only someone as smart as you and him would be able to unscramble it and sort through the hours of data.”
“Right, I’m on it,” Kendrick said with a sigh.
Personally, I didn’t need to hear anything from that night. What I needed to do was decide if I was going to leave. Get the hell out of this nightmare universe. I could go back to that 2007 timeline. Adam and Mason were alive in that year. 007 Holly hadn’t accused me of murder. That was another plus.
I didn’t even remember closing my eyes, but I must have.
JUNE 18, 2009, 6:05 A.M.
“Five minutes,” Kendrick said. “I’m moving it to my iPod and we can listen through our earpieces.”
The sun streaming through the blinds surprised me and I jerked upright, rubbing my eyes. “It’s morning?”
“Guess he’s not deaf and mute after all,” Stewart said.
I swept the room in one quick glance and saw they both were wearing sweats and there were crumbs and napkins all over the kitchen counter … and coffee … I smelled coffee. I got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower to avoid communication.
“He’s totally bonkers right now. What are we supposed to do with him?” Stewart asked, loud enough for me to hear.
“Just let it go for now,” Kendrick said. “I’m sure the six hours of sleep must have helped.”
Six hours? That had to be a new record for me. Actually, I’d hoped to feel some sense of purpose or determination to fix this year … this universe, when I woke. But I just wanted out. Maybe I’d talk to Dr. Melvin first, if I could get him alone.
When I was in the kitchen a few minutes later, pouring a cup of coffee, Kendrick came up to me and stuck an earpiece in my ear. “You okay?”
“Not really.”
“We’ve unscrambled several CIA agents’ conversations from the night of Healy’s event. We were surrounded by agents. The three we identified as Eyewall were in some remote location, giving directions. That’s why we didn’t have any pictures.”
“Great.”
Kendrick sighed and left me alone in the kitchen. I didn’t think she had any idea what to say, which was good, because I didn’t need her giving me some reason to stay. I leaned my head on the counter, burying my face in my arms as the recording started.
“Flynn … what part of ‘keep your eyes open from a distance’ do you not understand?”
“That’s Agent Collins,” Stewart said. “He’s in Eyewall.”
“And how do you know that?” Kendrick asked, pausing the recording.
“I just do,” Stewart said firmly.
I took a second to glance at Kendrick and we both exchanged a look, knowing Stewart had just given us information only her specialty was allowed to have. She must really trust us now.
My face was buried again as Kendrick restarted the recording.
“What the hell was I supposed to do?” Holly’s voice emerged in a muffled, breathless whisper. “They called my number. Brian practically shoved me out there.”
The $50,000 dance. I heard Kendrick groan from the couch … She had set it up. Set us up. The sound of running water came through the earpiece. Holly must have walked into the restroom.
“Lewis is all ready to go. She’s been prepping for days on every detail of this kid’s life and now it’s gonna have to be you,” Agent Collins snapped.
“No … I’m not ready for this,” Holly said.
“I’m not ready for a five-foot-nothing trainee to screw up my mission, but I guess we’ll just have to deal with it.”
A whole lot of static followed Agent Collins’s foreboding message, then his voice returned. “All right, Flynn. Suspect number twenty-two has an estimated blood alcohol level well above the legally drunk limit. You’re on … but do exactly what I tell you. Exactly. He’s not expendable like the others … not yet. We need him.”
Expendable? They really were in this until death. Chief Marshall hadn’t been kidding about that.
I could hear the music, feet shuffling against the dance floor. The whole scene played itself clearly in my mind.
“He’s been shamelessly staring at your ass for twenty minutes. I’ve got the geek squad sifting through old girlfriend photos to see if you remind him of someone, but it really doesn’t matter. You’ve got him hooked, somehow. That’s all we need to know.”
“Or he’s playing us and we’re falling right into the trap,” Holly mumbled.
“Exactly why we have backup for you,” Collins said. “Go order a drink and don’t make a big deal out of the incident earlier.”
“Right,” Holly said. “’Cause that wasn’t even a little bit creepy.”
“I don’
t know, Flynn … Maybe he’s on something … opiates or whatever fancy drugs rich kids like him can get their hands on,” Collins said.
“What do you have on tap?” Holly said.
“Wishful thinking, Flynn,” Collins said with a groan. “Now say something to him.”
The bartender replied with his sarcastic offer of “water.”
“I thought you left,” Holly said.
Then I heard my own voice, talking the bartender into giving her a real drink and Holly ordering her Bud Light.
“Sit down next to him and do not drink more than one beer … in fact, don’t even drink half of it,” Agent Collins said.
“Pretty smooth. You’ve done this before? The intimidation factor … name-dropping?” Holly asked.
A few more exchanges of words between Holly and me, and finally Agent Collins spoke again. “Okay, he knows it was an awkward moment earlier, so go ahead and acknowledge it. Maybe it’ll break the ice.”
“You sure know how to invade a girl’s personal space,” Holly said.
I heard myself apologize and then the change in tone when I had decided to pursue this one evening of guilty pleasure.
“So, where are you from, Holly Flynn?” I asked.
“Tell him the truth,” Collins said. “If he’s working for Tempest, he’ll be able to find out anyway. If he’s not … he won’t care or even remember.”
Agent Collins was quiet all through the conversation about Jersey and parties in the woods and beer kegs. But when Holly said, “You’ve been sitting here for an hour. Don’t you think your date might be a little bored … or lonely?” And then I said, “She’s just my partner … I mean, lab partner … for med school.”
Agent Collins laughed and said, “I love those drunken slipups, don’t you? Lab partner, my ass.”
“What about your boyfriend? Is he okay with you, flirting with strangers?” I asked.
“Go ahead, Flynn … level the playing field, but nothing too definite,” Collins said.
