Had she already found her car and realized she didn’t have her keys? If so, maybe she circled around and went back inside the hospital to find them. Or had she gone to another level, leaving him in the dust and unable to follow her? Or could she have hitched a ride with someone else after discovering her keys were missing?
Just when he was about to panic, he heard something from his left. It was a woman’s voice, slicing through the silence.
“No! No! No!” the girl said. “Damn it!”
She sounded like she was a few rows over, somewhere behind the twin support columns standing alone. The voice was familiar and might be Lauren’s, but he really couldn’t be sure. It was possible he wanted the voice to be hers and was hearing what he wanted to hear.
Lucas took off running in her direction, not stopping to think it through. His mind was focused on one thing—find Lauren and jack her car. But he’d have to wait for her to leave the area, which he figured would happen as soon as she realized her keys were not in her purse. She’d probably remember placing them on the garbage bin and run back to the hospital. That would be his chance, but he’d have to find her now and do so before she left the car behind to go find her keys. Otherwise, he wouldn’t know which car was hers.
He increased his pace, weaving in and out of the vehicles in the next several rows, dodging a zigzag of door mirrors and the occasional spot of trash on the concrete. When he broke through the fifth row of Detroit metal, he stopped next to a dented Cutlass with sanded gray primer streaks across its hood. Its driver had backed it into the spot.
The uphill ramp corridor of the garage stood before him. So did Lauren, just thirty feet to the right and across the empty expanse. She was digging through her purse while standing next to a white Ford Escort with fancy pin-striping along the side. He assumed it was her car. The vehicle was covered with yellow and red flames that looked to have been hand-drawn. Except for the paint job, it was exactly the kind of car he expected a struggling, single mom to drive. Not that it mattered—he had his answer and knew the ride. She just needed to leave, then he could execute the final part of the plan.
A thin smile grew on his lips when he realized the nightmare would soon be over—finally. All that remained was to keep her from driving home tonight with Drew and there’d be no car accident. No accident would keep her alive and Drew’s legs intact. Drew would never end up in the orphanage and they’d never meet and become foster brothers.
He nodded slowly, realizing his agonizing saga was nearing its conclusion. Soon, everything would be set right across the multiverse. A long, slow breath escaped his lungs and his heart rate calmed a bit. Just one more step and the future would forever be changed. All those billions of innocents who died would live again, cleansing his hands of the blood and ridding the guilt from his soul.
The plan was elegant in its simplicity, but he needed to hold his celebration a bit longer. The final task might prove to be more difficult than he expected.
She moved to the front of the Escort and dumped the contents of her purse across the hood. Lauren was crying and talking to herself as her hands were tossing items around, looking for her keys.
Lucas needed her to get herself together and go find her keys—now. He couldn’t stand around much longer. Eventually, someone would cruise by and notice a man lurking in the darkness, stalking a pretty young nurse across the way.
Right on cue, Lauren stopped sobbing. She turned away from the car and started walking in the direction of the hospital.
Lucas moved back a step and lowered his body, keeping his eyes trained on her. Fifteen feet later, Lauren’s swollen eyes swung in Lucas’ direction. He ducked behind the Cutlass and moved to the trunk of the vehicle. He didn’t think she saw him, but he couldn’t be sure. Regardless, he needed to time his movements around the back of the sedan to match her forward advance. If he was able to keep the Cutlass firmly between them as she moved, he’d keep his location a secret.
His mind’s eye imagined her speed and course, counting a full second for each of her anticipated steps. He moved slowly past the trunk and around to the far side, staying low and watchful. The front of the car came upon him quickly as he listened to the echo of her nearby footsteps. She was to his left, and close. Damn close. That much was clear. He kept his head low and listened, trying to calculate her direction and distance. However, the footsteps stopped before he could gather enough information to pinpoint her location.
He froze for a second and waited—now pressing his shoulder against the Cutlass, only a few inches in front of the right tire. Nothing changed. The area was all quiet, except for the stampede beating away inside his chest. He dropped to his knees and looked under the car, peering out past the front bumper. The area directly in front of the Cutlass was all he could see, but her feet and legs weren’t there.
A sudden thought came unbidden into his mind, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and tingle wildly. It was something he hadn’t considered before. What if she didn’t cruise past the Cutlass as he expected? What if she took off her shoes and was circling around behind? What if she was trained in martial arts, or armed with that .357 he’d visualized earlier and was about to start spraying and praying?
He was totally exposed and unprepared. His breath held as his body swung around to check the area behind. He feared the worst, but only saw more parked cars and the empty space between them—except for a flattened soda can sitting under the edge of a badly worn tire. He released a breath when he realized she wasn’t standing there ready to open fire and put holes in his skinny frame.
The sound of footsteps started again on his left, this time at a faster pace than before. He peered over the hood of the car. There she was—a good twenty-five feet away—walking with fervor in her step. A moment later, she was beyond the garage exit, traveling through the night air outside, likely heading for the entrance to the hospital—a calculated shortcut, he imagined.
He smiled and brought his eyes around to check the Ford Escort across the way—all clear—nobody around. He verified her location again—still scurrying toward the hospital. It was time, he decided. Time to make his move.
The keys in his hand jingled when he brought them up and began to sort through them. He found the largest key, figuring it was the one to her Ford Escort. He pinned it between his fingers and stood up, walking with an even pace. He reminded himself to act natural and pretend like he owned the place. If he held his calm, it would appear as though he was simply heading to his car, just like anyone else.
His eyes darted around the garage level, but there were no signs of life. It was odd. Only the two of them had been in the garage the entire time. He wasn’t sure why, but it was nagging at him like something was off. Then again, maybe it was just his nerves. He decided to shrug it off since it truly didn’t matter at this point. Only about ten more steps to her car and he would reset history once and for all.
The door key slipped in like it’d been greased with butter. He opened the car, climbed in, and sat down as his fingers found the ignition and started the four-cylinder compact. He swung his head around before backing out, but stopped when his eyes noticed a toddler seat in the backseat. It was red and blue with the letter S in the middle of its emblem. The Superman motif was the coolest thing he’d ever seen. It warmed his heart and brought a smile to his lips.
37
Lucas made his way out the garage, through several miles of surface streets, then turned right and drove the stolen Ford to the last row of a parking lot behind a popular nightclub called Cowboys. He picked a spot, parked the car, and turned off the ignition, tucking Lauren’s keys next to the Google Glasses inside his shirt.
If the glitzy marquee sign in front was correct, the dance club was featuring an outdoor country music event tonight, starting at 10:00 p.m., and the special live performance was sold out. Those facts, plus the mention of two-for-one Coors, were the reason he chose this location to dump her car.
The Escort should go
unnoticed for hours as the drunken crowd filled the area with rowdiness and puke, leaving the cops to focus on traffic control and drunk driving stops. Plus, this location just so happened to be only a block away from ABC Daycare on North Tucson Boulevard. He laughed, thinking of the gabby old women in the elevator. If they hadn’t pressed Lauren about her son’s injury, he never would’ve known which daycare had been assigned to watch baby Drew. He’d found the address in the Yellow Pages of a phone booth near the hospital after he’d managed an unfettered getaway from the garage.
The original plan was to steal Lauren’s car and park it somewhere safe, then fire up the Smart Skin Suit and flash home to the future. But something inside of him took control and wouldn’t let him leave so quickly. He knew every minute he spent in the past was a gamble, but a new, burning desire to see baby Drew was consuming him.
He needed to know how badly his brother was hurt. Plus, if his attempt to alter the future succeeded, there was a good chance he’d never see grown-up Drew again. This may be his last chance, and he planned to savor the moment. He needed to say his goodbyes, from a distance, and make sure Lauren didn’t borrow someone else’s car and find a way to drive home tonight. Otherwise, he’d have to change his plan.
Lucas thought he knew all the facts about her fatal car crash from Kleezebee, but didn’t remember Drew having a broken leg already. Maybe it was a new fact, or a forgotten one. He couldn’t be sure. It wouldn’t be the first time Kleezebee omitted or altered important details to serve a secret “need-to-know” agenda. But either way, Lauren would certainly be distracted with an injured Drew in the car. The more he thought about it, the more he came to believe Drew’s injury may have been the actual reason for her accident the first time through this timeline—not sleep deprivation.
He decided to wait in front of the three-spire church across the street from the daycare. Its plush landscaping featured a neatly trimmed line of palm trees bordering the sidewalk, one of which looked to be the perfect height to use as cover from the cool night air. He took residence under its outcrop of palm fronds and waited for baby Drew to make an appearance. He figured he had some time to kill while Lauren searched for her keys in the cafeteria, then decided to bum a ride from a coworker. Plus, there was the ten-minute drive. If he had to guess, the over/under mark for her arrival would be twenty-two minutes.
ABC’s front entrance was well-lit and directly across the street from his position. Four parents arrived during the first minute to pick up their kids, but none of them were Lauren. Lucas didn’t have a watch, but was able to judge time by studying the traffic light on the corner and counting its cycles. He ran a manual count of seconds and determined that each green-red transition took approximately two minutes to complete.
Lucas kept watch on the area as seven traffic cycles came and went, then his mind started to wander a bit. His focus drifted from Lauren’s arrival to thoughts of the distant Earth outpost where his friends were waiting for his return. He knew it wouldn’t be long now, making this moment in time extremely precious. His right shoulder leaned against the skinned trunk of the palm tree as the hypnotic sounds of city life embraced him.
The melody was manmade and uneven, but carried with it a sweet undertone he wanted to remember. There were cars whizzing past with engines purring and music playing, potholes being hit with double thumps, metal tailgates rattling, and various rubberized tones from different tire treads skimming across the pavement.
The rush of wind above him was especially soothing. Behind him, he heard the rhythmic clatter of the church’s sprinkler system turn on. He glanced over his shoulder to see if the back of his pants might get wet. The water jets closest to him weren’t active; only the seven heads near the church’s east wall were busy—each puffing out long sprays across the grassy knoll.
Before he turned his attention back to ABC Daycare, another round of time waves erupted, interrupting his blissful moment with dizziness. The church’s beautiful landscape was rotting and dead in the first cycle of change, then back to normal in the next. The parking spaces in front of the rectory on the right were full, then empty, then full again. Dizziness found him during the fifth distortion wave, making him grab onto the trunk of the palm tree holding him up. The series of displacement waves was much longer this time, numbering twenty-two before the event stopped and the woozy feeling disappeared.
His eyes returned to the traffic light, but his attention was interrupted by a long blast from a car horn. It broke through the city noise and was coming from his right. He swung his focus in time to witness a city bus change lanes in heavy traffic, effectively cutting off an angry man behind the wheel of a shiny, black Trans Am muscle car with wide tires spinning on a jacked-up rear end.
The bus slowed to a crawl, stopping next to the sidewalk with a hiss of its air brakes, leaving at least a hundred yards between its position and the double doors of the daycare. The Trans Am spun its wheels violently, swinging wide around the transport. Its driver blasted the horn again while its squealing rubber took it swiftly down the busy roadway.
The overhead safety lights inside the bus ignited, giving Lucas a clear view of the one passenger moving down the center aisle to the front. It was Lauren Falconio.
The doors of the bus flew open and Lauren made her way down the exit stairs. As soon as her feet hit the cement, she took off in a full gallop to the entrance of ABC Daycare.
Lucas studied the bus, but no additional riders were standing and none of them disembarked. He expected the bus to resume its journey after Lauren was clear, but it didn’t move. In fact, the middle-aged driver sat motionless with his arms folded across the top of the steering wheel, the engine idling and parking lights flashing.
Lauren pushed at the building’s double doors and went inside. A few minutes later, she returned with a screaming baby in one arm.
Lucas felt the sting of tears when he saw the crying face of his little brother. Drew’s injured leg was sticking straight out with a flat brace along each of its sides, both secured with tan-colored medical wrap. Lauren’s free hand was supporting his tiny leg, but Drew was obviously in a lot of pain. She found the sidewalk quickly, then picked up one of her legs and shook it back and forth at the bus driver. Lucas realized she was using her leg as a come-get-me signal since her hands were full.
Lauren held the baby close to her chest, giving him a series of short kisses on the forehead as she waited for the bus to pull up and stop. It did. The overhead safety lights flashed on, giving Lucas a perfect view of the passengers, who were already standing near the front. Lauren climbed inside and sat in the third seat from the front. Her head disappeared from sight when she sat down on the far side.
A heartbeat later, the doors swooshed closed and the bus took off in a lurch; its diesel engine let out a high-powered roar. Lucas watched the driver and his passengers head for the traffic light, with a heavy heart and a single tear rolling down his cheek.
He whispered in a hoarse voice, “Live a long and happy life, Little Chief. Thank you for always having my back, no matter what. I love you, bro. More than you’ll ever know.”
Lucas stepped away from the palm tree and onto the sidewalk, keeping his eyes on the bus as it traveled into the night. He was about to slip out of his street clothes and ready his Smart Skin Suit for the trip home when a blur caught his eye. His vision locked onto the movement, seeing a yellow dump truck hauling a full mound of dirt. It was approaching the traffic light from the right at high speed. A beat later its brakes squealed, but it wasn’t slowing down.
“Nooooo!” Lucas screamed while the bus entered the intersection on a solid green light.
The dirt hauler blared its horn and tried to swerve, but it was too late. It rammed into the middle of the bus, on the same side where Lauren and Drew were sitting, The sound of the massive impact sent out a shockwave, staggering Lucas back a few feet.
The bus bent where the loaded truck sliced into it, sending the bus skidding sideways. Glass and metal e
xploded into the air as the bus was ripped apart at its midpoint.
Lucas gasped a shallow breath and held it when the two sections of the bus spun apart and entered the lanes of oncoming traffic. A wave of vehicles plowed into the front half of the bus, knocking it over and onto its side. The force of their combined impact sent it sliding into the back half of the mangled bus.
More cars entered the intersection with brakes engaged and tires smoking, smashing into the pile-up. Each time another vehicle hit, it compacted the growing wreckage and pushed it a few feet closer to Lucas. Horns continued and tires screeched, then more metal crunched.
Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, a powerful air horn sounded from the other side of the accident. It was a tanker truck—the kind that carried gasoline or some other hazardous liquid. Its wheels locked up and its dual trailer was skidding sideways in a jackknife position as the driver tried to divert the payload from the intersection.
Lucas knew what was about to happen and his feet reacted before his brain could send the signal to run. He turned and took off for the church behind him. He wasn’t sure his legs would be fast enough to get him to his destination in time, but he had to try.
The deafening sound of the tanker’s impact and subsequent explosion rocked the street. He dove headfirst for the grassy area just beyond the east wall of the church. His belly landed first, allowing him to enter a long skid between the sprinklers.
The heat from the massive fireball warmed his right cheek as he flew across the wet grass like a base runner stealing home plate. He ran a quick calculation and realized his right arm was about to smash into a sharp corner where the brick walls came together. Their edges would easily rip through his street clothes and damage the Smart Skin Suit, so he tucked his arm in and rolled to his left side to slim his profile. It worked.
A second later, his head and torso flew past the wall safely, but not before his eyes flew wide at the sight of the firestorm heading his way. It was massive, and nothing like anything he’d ever seen before. The flames and heat would surely consume anything it touched, like human flesh and a Smart Skin Suit.
Reversion (The Narrows of Time Series Book 3) Page 31
