Reversion (The Narrows of Time Series Book 3)

by Jay J. Falconer

  There was no pulse and the man’s chest wasn’t moving.

  “Oh, shit!”

  29

  Lucas walked briskly out the revolving front door of the science lab with Masago holding his hand. He scanned the atmosphere, but didn’t detect any fighter jets streaking across the sky. He let go of Masago’s hand, turned, and faced the science building, buttoning his shirt to cover up the Smart Skin Suit. Not long after the last button was secure, Kleezebee, Griffith, and Bruno joined them, each breathing hard from the old-man sprint to catch up.

  “Okay, we’re here. What’s so damned important that you needed to give the three of us a heart attack?” Kleezebee asked, gasping for breath.

  “I’m redlining here,” Griffith added with his chest heaving. He put two fingers to the side of his neck and stared at his watch.

  Lucas pointed up. “That.”

  Each of their eyes followed his finger to the sky.

  Kleezebee shrugged, then bent over at the waist, still trying to catch his breath. “Clouds? Am I missing something?”

  Lucas shook his head. “Not just any clouds. Look at the pattern—elongated washboard with an X in the middle. Just like in my vision.”

  “You’re still not making any sense.”

  “It’s the same formation I saw in my glimpse. I think it’s going to happen today. Not tonight.”

  “What happens?” Masago asked.

  “The Krellian invasion.”

  “Now?” Griffith asked, with panic in his voice. He ducked, then his eyes darted left and right. “Shouldn’t we evacuate campus?”

  “Hold on a minute,” Kleezebee snapped, turning his eyes to Lucas. “Let’s think this through. Take it one step at a time.”

  “It’s their first incursion into our realm. Last time through this timeline it began at night—in front of the Student Union. But my vision indicated the timing has changed. It now happens during the day. Could be right now or in an hour or two. Hard to know for sure. I don’t remember the angle of the sun and didn’t exactly have access to a clock. But those clouds—they’re exactly what I saw. Fractal patterns like those have to be extremely rare. Especially in Tucson, where sunshine rules the weather forecast almost every day.”

  “Are you sure you just didn’t see them on your way in? It’s possible your mind is playing tricks on you.”

  Lucas turned to Masago and pointed up. “Do you remember seeing that earlier, because I sure don’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I really wasn’t looking at the sky.”

  “Did the vision show you anything else?” Bruno asked. “Maybe there’s another clue you’re forgetting. Was it windy? Any strange sounds or smells? A group of pretty girls? Something that would make this moment unique and unidentifiable?”

  “No, the vision didn’t last very long. I was pushing Drew across the mall in his wheelchair, and, oh yeah, I was wearing a neon-yellow shirt—I mean the younger version of me—the one driving Drew to the Union. Then, a squadron of fighter jets flew overhead and turned south just before the flash came and wiped everyone out.”

  Kleezebee and Bruno looked up. So did Masago and Griffith.

  “I don’t see any jets,” Kleezebee said, with rousing skepticism in his voice. His chest was sucking in air half as fast as before. “Just because you saw events in a daydream, doesn’t mean they’re going to come true.”

  “These formations may just be coincidence,” Griffith added. “Now, it would be entirely different if the heavens were to open and start pouring red alien blood this very minute. That, my young friend, would be something we could identify as a specific event, lending credence to your prognostication.”

  Lucas exhaled. “Yeah, Grif, like that’s ever going to happen. What would you call it? Red fall? Red rain? Sounds like a sci-fi channel movie of the week to me. But I see your point.”

  Lucas exhaled. Maybe his friends were right. It wouldn’t be the first time his mind showed him things that weren’t real. “Damn it! I really thought it meant something. Who has a vision like that except a crazy man?”

  Bruno put a hand on Lucas’ shoulder, squeezing it. “Hey, buddy. We all make mistakes. It happens to the best of us.”

  “He’s right, Lucas. Stratiforms come and go, allowing our minds to conjure memorable shapes in them all the time. Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Griffith said in a soft voice.

  Masago hugged Lucas. “We all know you mean well, but maybe we should get you inside and out of this sun. The medicine I gave you might be making you—”

  “Nuts?” Lucas said, wondering if she was right.

  “Delirious was the word I was going for.”

  “At least the quake was real,” Lucas said, wishing he hadn’t reacted so quickly. “It’s the same thing that happened the first time around. I may be losing my mind, but that much I’m sure of.”

  “Speaking of which, I need to get inside and check on the reactor. If you’re right about that tremor, heads are gonna roll,” Kleezebee said with a stiff upper lip.

  “Cut ’em some slack, Professor. They’re under a lot of stress,” Lucas told him. “I know. Been there, done that, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do. I’ll take it under advisement.”

  Before Kleezebee could take a step, Lucas heard laughing behind him in the direction of the science lab. He recognized the distinctive, boyish laugh. He spun quickly and saw Drew strolling along in his wheelchair from the front door. His heart nearly popped out of his chest when he saw his little brother smiling and happy. It had been so long, he’d forgotten how much he missed Drew. Then his eyes turned to the person walking with him. It was his younger self.

  “I knew it!” Lucas said with vigor.

  “What?” Masago said.

  Lucas pointed at young Lucas. “Yellow shirt.”

  Kleezebee, Griffith, and Bruno all turned.

  “Ah, that can’t be good,” Griffith said.

  “He wasn’t wearing that earlier when he checked in,” Bruno added, sounding confused.

  Masago put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “He must have changed, silly. People do change clothes from time to time.”

  “Or, the timeline changed after one of those ripples. There’s no guarantee you’re still in the same timeline as before,” the professor said.

  “So, now what?” Bruno asked.

  Lucas didn’t hesitate. He started walking toward Drew and Lucas.

  Kleezebee grabbed him on the elbow, stopping his departure. “Lucas, you can’t just walk up to him out of the blue. What’s he gonna think when he sees himself?”

  “I realize that, but we have to stop them from going to the Union.”

  Bruno stepped forward. “I got this, boss. They’ll listen to me.”

  Kleezebee looked at Lucas. “With your knowledge of future events, where’s the safest place to be right now?”

  “Anywhere but here. The Krellians target major metropolitan areas first. I’d suggest we get out of town as soon as possible.”

  “We can take my brother’s truck and go to his compound in the desert,” Masago told Kleezebee with excitement in her voice. “It’s a long drive northeast from here. But he’ll protect us all.”

  Kleezebee nodded at Bruno. “Get all four kids out of here. You go with and keep them safe.”

  “What about you and Grif?” Lucas asked.

  “We’ll head underground.” Kleezebee put a hand on Griffith’s back. “You and I have calls to make. We need to get this place evacuated.”

  “Whatever you need, Professor. But I need to call my wife first.”

  “What about your mom in Phoenix?” Masago asked Lucas.

  “Shit, been so long, I forgot about her.”

  “Do we have the time?” Bruno asked.

  “We’ll make the time,” Lucas shot back to his friend.

  “Round trip, it’s four hours.”

  “Not with the way Masago drives. You can cut that estimate in half, dude.”

  Masago
smiled. “Fasten your seatbelts, gentlemen.”

  Kleezebee stuck out his arm, using it to keep her from walking away. He looked at Lucas. “No, I’ll send a team to pick your mother up and take her to the underground silo. She’ll be safe there.”

  “Silo?” Griffith asked.

  “I’ll explain later. Let’s get moving. We’ve got work to do,” Kleezebee said before walking away from the group. Griffith followed him, two steps behind.

  “Where’d you park?” Bruno asked Masago.

  “In the back. It’s a lifted F-250. Can’t miss it.”

  “All right. You two wait here while I go break the news to our younger friends. I’ll signal you when it’s safe to join us,” Bruno said.

  Lucas scanned the sky with his eyes. “Fine, but hurry up. If those jets fly overhead—”

  “Got it,” Bruno said, not waiting around to hear the rest of Lucas’ warning.

  Lucas spun the bracelet Masago had given him around on his wrist. His mouth ran dry and his chest tightened when he thought about the pending Krellian invasion, the meet and greet with Masago’s brother, Rocket, and the awkward ride-along with his younger self and Drew.

  30

  Rocket Fuji climbed the wooden ladder to the top of the three-story observation tower erected at the south end of his prepper compound. He had the rectangular structure built to face southwest, toward Tucson, giving his team a wide-angle view of the nearly flat terrain wandering off for as far as the eye could see. Another perch stood on the north end of his property; however, with the Catalina Mountains to the east and Tucson to the south, this lookout was the more strategic of the two.

  His heart dripped with concern after the recent inspection of the mountaintop where the Apache helicopter attack had taken place. All that was left behind were random patches of blood and more questions than answers. It was doubtful he’d ever learn the identity of those who were the target of the military’s rage, but one thing was certain; tensions and suspicions were now at an all-time high. Not just with him and his men, but with the rest of those in the know about the event. He’d checked the news, but there was no mention of the massacre. Typical, he thought, recalling something his father had preached to him years earlier.

  Those in power control the flow of supplies, and that includes the flow of information.

  Even before the ruthless attack, he didn’t trust the government or its willing siblings: the military industrial complex and the liberal media outlets. Might as well lump in the general public as well. The world was teetering on collapse. He could feel it in his bones, nagging at him like a wrinkled old wife. His trust was only safe in the hands of his family and in his dutiful men—the loyal few he’d vetted and trained.

  “Any sign of my sister?” he asked Zed Bradshaw, his number two in command.

  “Not yet,” Zed said, panning the digital binoculars from left to right, never taking his eyes from them.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Trust me, I’m sure. Your truck’s hard to miss, even from this distance. But almost everyone else is here. All we’re missing is the new guy.”

  “Cannibal?”

  Zed lowered his hands and gawked at Rocket with a snide look on his face. “Yep. The very same. Are you surprised?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “His shift wasn’t supposed to start until tonight but he should’ve received the activation alert by now. Everyone else did. Of course, that’s assuming he’s carrying his cell phone, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I do. He’s a huge man with a tiny brain.”

  “He’d better be on his way. If not, then so be it.”

  Zed was the cleanest man Rocket had ever met. He was always fussing about his clothes and appearance, which included razor-short hair with gray patches on the side, and olive skin that reminded Rocket of silky-smooth cocoa butter. Zed was only thirty-two years old, but premature gray ran in his family. So did his balanced temperament, which made him an effective, well-respected leader. Rocket counted on him for tactical assessment and training of the team, especially the new recruits, and felt fortunate to have such a prideful warrior at his side.

  Rocket took the glasses from Zed and scanned the landscape beyond his property. The red targeting square flashed and darted around the screen but failed to land on an object worthy of focus. Except for a few low rolling hills that seems oddly out of place against the endless brown, all he could see in front of him was dirt, brush, and cacti. No threats of any kind. A towering dirt devil was wreaking havoc a few hundred yards away, but other than the swirling funnel, there was no movement.

  He was starting to worry about his sister. She should’ve been back by now. After all, how long does it take to drive into town for some feminine products and return? “Damn it! Where the hell are you, Masago?”

  “Missing your truck?”

  He nodded. “I still remember the day my old man took me shopping for my sixteenth birthday and let me pick out any truck I wanted, as long as it was a Ford. Junior was sitting in the front corner of the lot, next to one of those huge blow-up figures. You know—the giant Gumby-looking thing that bends and dances around in the wind like a drunken sailor on leave.”

  Zed laughed, but didn’t say anything.

  “We’ve been through a lot together, and never once has he failed to start. Not once. Two hundred thousand miles and Junior’s still barreling along like he’s fresh off the assembly line in Detroit. I put on every one of those miles myself—every—single—one. At least until now. This is the first time we’ve ever been apart since the day I drove him home from the dealer.”

  “I’m sure he’s in good hands.”

  “You haven’t seen my sister drive,” he scoffed, his mind playing a vision of Masago spinning wicked donuts in the sand.

  “Bit a of lead-foot, is she?”

  “That’s an understatement,” he said, giving the glasses back to Zed. “Continue on and stay alert.”

  “Roger that.” Zed put the glasses to his face, looking out across the property.

  Rocket’s mind drifted to thoughts of his sister and the war games they used to play across the sprawling desert. Usually the scenarios ended with a verbal spat, mainly because Masago was a high-spirited chick with her own rhythm and approach to everything. Her beliefs were deadpan strong, as were his, yet they still couldn’t seem to find common ground when it came to the ideology of being prepared for the end of days. Dad had preached the same dogma to both of them, but somehow the words resonated differently within him than it did with his sister.

  In the end, it didn’t matter whether they agreed or not. Their blood ties ran deep and nothing could, or would, ever change that. If there was one thing he’d learned during his years of government torment on this rock, it was that a happy family unit was not predicated on universal, like-minded thinking. In fact, differences in opinion strengthened the group, though it was a bit exhausting at times.

  He turned to make his way down the ladder but froze when he heard a powerful roar of thunder coming from the northwest. The handrails of the platform they were standing on began to vibrate in his fingers as the sound grew progressively louder with every beat of his heart. He looked up and scanned the sky for the source. It took a few seconds, but his eyes finally locked onto three fighter jets screaming his way, leaving a trio of exhaust trails behind them.

  “Here comes Uncle Sam,” Zed said while the planes ripped closer through the atmosphere, making a slow, banking turn south.

  Rocket realized they were on a high-speed intercept course with his location, meaning it would only be seconds before they arrived—not enough time to sound the alarm and evacuate. He wasn’t worried since this wasn’t the first time they’d been visited by the air force. Nothing hostile had happened in each of the previous four encounters, and he had no reason to think this time would be any different. “Fast movers. Been a while. This should be interesting.”

  “Looks like F-16s. Must be tasked with checking
us out again,” Zed said, putting the glasses down. “Just like last month and the month before.”

  “Count on it,” Rocket said with certainty. “They know we’re here. NSA watches everything with their birds orbiting this shit-hole of a planet.”

  “Yeah, well fuck them and the horse they rode in on.”

  The planes leveled their wings and angled their noses sharply lower, as if to start a strafing run. A few seconds later, they made a low-level flyby of the camp.

  Rocket ducked and grabbed onto a safety rail. So did Zed as the platform shook violently from the turbulent shockwave. When the jets passed directly overhead, their pilots kicked in the afterburners, injecting fuel into their exhaust systems to supercharge the flaming thrust. The roar was instantaneous and deafening, the kind of roar that sends chills down your spine in awe. It was an impressive show of power and speed, but not one Rocket would let himself enjoy.

  “Fucking 355th.”

  “What a bunch of adrenaline junkies,” Zed said with contempt.

  “Maybe so, but this wasn’t some random flightpath. They were sent here with a message,” Rocket said, flipping the bird at the aircraft zooming away, apparently heading for downtown Tucson.

  “What message?” Zed asked, taking his Glock from its holster to check the chamber and magazine.

  “We haven’t forgotten about you.”

  “And we haven’t forgotten about them.”

  “If my father was still alive, he’d say we should bug out and relocate.”

  “You’re not considering that, are you?”

  “No. Never. We stand our ground. Right here and right now. Let them come. They have no idea what they’re up against.”

  “No, they don’t.”

  “This is our land and goddammit, nobody is going to force us from it. I’d rather die on my feet than live on my knees. Fucking fascists.”

  “Do you think it’s time to activate your sister’s tracker?”

  Rocket hesitated, considering the idea before he answered. “I’d hate to waste the battery if she’s not within the transmitter’s ten-mile range. Unless she’s at her bunker, we’re going to need to move a whole lot closer to Tucson first. And you know how much I hate that frickin’ town.”