Keeper of Time (Wealth of Time Series, Book 4)

by Andre Gonzalez

  “It’s okay, totally out of your control. We appreciate you trying to get your colleagues to stay. If only we had an easy way of removing these damn tracking devices.”

  “I know it. That will be one of my main focuses. If we can lose the trackers, the possibilities truly become endless.”

  “Now that’s the kind of world I want to live in.”

  They shared a chuckle followed by a momentary silence as Thaddeus looked around.

  “Do you want to see our chambers?” Murray asked.

  “Absolutely. Do you think that’s the best place to start?”

  “It’s our main meeting area. We spend hours in there bickering about what to do.” She led them three doors down the hallway where she pushed open the door to show their grand chambers, complete with a glimmering round table, white boards, and its own kitchen area.

  “So this is where the decision was made to let the people vote on Strike’s death?” he asked, crossing his arms as he admired the room.

  “Don’t remind me of that horrible day. I still can’t believe how everything has played out since.”

  “Neither can we. That’s why we work tirelessly to find a way to take control of our beloved organization back from all of those who have lost touch with common sense. What do you know about this Martin Briar, anyway?”

  “Well, he’s the only Warm Soul in North America, and the plan is for him to use that ability to finally bring down Chris. He received permission from Strike to go into the future to obtain a special medicine for his mother suffering from Alzheimer’s. I don’t know why she decided he could go—she had rejected similar requests hundreds of times during her year in office. He must have made a compelling case, or she owed him.”

  “Wasn’t he the one in Sonya’s house when Strike ordered the hit on Chris?”

  “Yes he was. Sent there to kill Sonya and ended up getting seriously wounded himself. I’ll admit, we shouldn’t have much to dislike about the guy. From what I’ve heard, he’s a hard-working man who cares about the organization.”

  “We’ll see about that. The others still want to endorse him?”

  He was referring to the other commanders around the world. Their endorsement, even from a different continent, carried major weight in an election. Typically, when they endorsed a candidate, that person went on to win the election.

  “Very much so. Commander Blair is a huge advocate, as is Quang. I’m not sure about the others, but they all usually come to an agreement.”

  “It should be interesting to see how Briar responds to that new role. We’ve seen plenty of others before him lose touch with themselves and fall into that dirty trap of politics.”

  “Always possible, yes, but from what I’ve heard he’s a man of his word. Did you know he managed to get the medicine he went into the future for? I’m not sure how he ended up with it, but when he brought it back home he found his mother slaughtered to death. Chris left a note claiming responsibility.”

  Thaddeus shook his head. “I don’t know if the Road Runners should hand over the organization to a man surely dealing with some troubling emotions.”

  Murray shrugged. “He’s only been a Road Runner for a few months. I think they’re looking to get someone with fresh blood and ideas into the position. Someone not conditioned to our ways.”

  “Don’t say ‘our’ ways, Councilwoman. You’re a member of the Liberation now.”

  “Yes, of course. You know what I mean. I still have appearances to keep up—I am a Council member.”

  “The purest Council member,” Thaddeus said with a smirk. “We have no chance of taking over without an insider like you.”

  “I know that. You just make sure my name stays out of the news. The second any of this leaks, they’ll vote me out of the Council.”

  “I’d like to see them try—we’re growing an army.”

  “You’re numbers are strong, but still no match for the Road Runners if it comes to it.”

  “We’ll be there in time. For now, we attack in the night, limit our confrontations, and make our way, city to city.”

  “They were on to you today, so you must be more careful. Next time you might not be as lucky.”

  “Thank you, Councilwoman. We really do appreciate your help. It’s too bad your colleagues aren’t in the building, but shall we proceed with wiping this place off the map?”

  “Yes, but wait five minutes before you start, so I can get my things together. And stay in touch. I don’t want to hear about what you’re up to from the news. Okay?”

  “Yes ma’am, you have my word.”

  Murray gave a final hug to Thaddeus before turning and leaving the Council’s offices for the final time.

  21

  Chapter 21

  Martin and his two guards were back on American soil, hiding out in the bustling city of Miami. There were over 10,000 Road Runners in the city alone, a factor in their decision to hide somewhere with a higher population than the remote islands they had originally planned to bounce around.

  Commander Blair again froze time to allow them to travel in peace, and offered to send two of his own soldiers for added protection after hearing of the sneak attack the Revolters tried to carry out in Aruba. Antonio declined, insisting they had matters under control. Plans were also moving forward with the election, and Martin was expected to formally announce his candidacy back in Denver in exactly three days.

  The campaign and election night loomed, but were currently the least of their worries. For now they bounced around different Miami hotels every night, but what troubled Martin was seeing Antonio and Everett wandering off to the corner of their hotel rooms, or even stepping outside, to have hushed conversations in private. Martin sensed something was wrong that they didn’t want him to hear about.

  That all changed tonight, when Antonio urged them to gather around the TV after he connected his computer for the live Road Runners network feed.

  Chip Halsey, the Road Runners’ longest tenured broadcaster, filled the screen with his gray hair slicked sideways, and his deep, green eyes staring into the souls of Road Runners across the nation.

  “I wish I could open our show tonight with a simple greeting of ‘Good evening, Road Runners’, but I cannot.” He spoke in a smooth, deep tone that had lulled viewers for decades. “As an organization we are ill, plagued by the poison that has been fed to us over time. We were supposed to be a better group than this, a level above the average human being, but we have fallen into the same traps of division and hate—even when we’re all on the same team.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Chris Speidel is our enemy, a fact that has always been and always will be true. There is no reason for a Road Runner to ever fight another Road Runner, let alone kill one another. We have reached the tipping point of our existence. Maybe this should have been discussed earlier—the signs were certainly present—but it’s too late. This is where we are now. The damage has been done, but we are still hanging on by a thread. We must work together and unite against our enemy. Chris Speidel is responsible for the division we are experiencing. He has turned us against each other, and is sitting in his mansion laughing. He’s a sick man and thinks this is all a game.

  “I beg you all to take a long look in the mirror tonight and think about the ugly road we’re headed down. We’re a couple of bad decisions away from becoming no different than the Revolution. Is that the kind of world you want your kids and grandkids, your loved ones, to grow up in? For the moment, we have no commander. And as of tonight, our last resort of leadership, the Council, is in hiding. Roll the tape, please.”

  The screen cut away from Chip and showed an image of a familiar strip mall, the home of the Council. It was dark, so it was hard to see at first the many people standing several feet away from the building. The words ‘Liberate or die!’ were written across the facade in several places. For a moment it seemed the footage was showing a protest, until the mall exploded.

  A bright orange flashed through the windows o
f the restaurant, a ball of fire bursting out of the building, sending debris barreling into the night sky. The people—mere silhouettes in this footage—jumped and cheered like they were watching a planned fireworks show.

  The feed cut back to Chip, his expression stern while he shook his head. “That was the destruction of our Council’s chambers. Our only leadership no longer has a place to convene, nor do they have reason to feel safe anywhere they might try to meet. It appears Councilwoman Murray was present in the building tonight, but she did make it out in time. Once all Council members were confirmed safe, our security team decided to turn off their tracking devices for security reasons. Council members, if you’re watching, please know that we support you through these difficult times.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we are under attack. From ourselves. Our team has done research on the group responsible for this and the recent attacks. There is a new group of Road Runners who call themselves the Liberation. These are people who fell so out of touch with reality after the decision to spare Martin Briar’s life that they’ve resorted to violence and corruption. In a sense, they have aligned themselves with the Revolution. They kill Road Runners, blow up our buildings, and are working toward further division and mistrust. We must resist. This time will pass, hopefully sooner than later. We don’t know their numbers, but it was enough for Chief Councilman Uribe to send everyone home tonight, including the security detail that protects their offices.

  “These people are dangerous. If you find yourself in a situation where they have gathered, run. Don’t waste time trying to figure out what they’re doing. Put your head down and run for your life. Their arson tonight on official property is a high crime—these people have no limits on the damage they can do.

  “As I sign off tonight, I regret to inform you that I, too, will be going dark. Now that I have exposed the Liberation for what they are, my safety is most certainly in jeopardy. Until we can right this ship as an organization, I’ll remain offline. Vote in our upcoming election like your life depends on it . . . because it does. Good night, and stay safe, my fellow Road Runners.”

  The screen cut to black and Martin’s mouth hung open. “What the hell is going on? I don’t understand why we don’t just wipe them all out—we certainly have more numbers than them.”

  “It’s not a matter of numbers,” Antonio said flatly. “We have no way of knowing for sure who is part of this Liberation group. Keep in mind these are Road Runners who have turned against us. Unless we catch them in the act, we don’t know who is partaking in their activities.”

  “And how exactly am I expected to run this campaign now?” Martin asked, his voice wavering at the thought of a constant target on his back.

  “It’s not going to be a normal campaign. You’ll have to deliver many messages from remote locations via a live feed. We can’t afford for you to make public appearances.”

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a campaign.”

  “It wasn’t going to be, anyway. We’re looking at a three-week campaign window, whereas normally you get three months. Every candidate will be getting creative in trying to get their message out to as many people as possible. There’s no time to tour the entire continent like past elections.”

  “Is someone going to help me through this process?” Martin asked. “I literally know nothing.”

  “Yes. Commander Blair is sending over his campaign team for you. They’re expected in Denver on Monday, where you’ll make the announcement.”

  They sat around for a moment of silence. Everett had been on the opposite couch, but kept to himself as he typed away on his cell phone. Antonio checked his phone for any recent alerts, but saw nothing.

  “Do we know if this Liberation has a leader?” Martin asked, not quite ready to end the discussion regarding his immediate future. If these people weren’t afraid to burn down a sacred building, what would they do to the man they viewed as the direct link to Strike’s death?

  “We have a handful of suspects that we’re watching,” Everett said. “For now, it appears Denver is safe. This group originated in the Midwest and moved toward the east coast. We suspect they recruited during their trip, meaning anywhere west of Iowa has likely not been contaminated with the Liberators.”

  “We can only hope,” Antonio added. “We don’t actually know that. No attacks have been carried out in the west, but that doesn’t mean they’re not preparing to do so, or recruiting.”

  “I think once you show your face,” Everett said, “we’re going to be on the run until we can get this matter under control. We’re arranging to increase your security detail during the campaign and afterward, should you get elected.”

  “And if I don’t win? I’m just on my own?” Martin asked.

  “Of course not. You’ll still have safety as long as these people remain a threat. But, if you do become commander, you can expect to go everywhere with at least fifteen guards surrounding you.”

  “A virtual wall covering your every angle,” Antonio added. “This change has been in discussion since Strike was kidnapped. We can’t afford to ever have that happen again.”

  Martin nodded, a twisting knot wringing his guts like an old rag. His life as an innocent time traveler looking to carve out a new beginning seemed decades away—like Izzy. He still hadn’t convinced himself that he wanted to run for the commandership, feeling very much a newbie to the organization, but this whole thing was moving forward beyond his control.

  For the rest of the evening, they all tried to direct the conversation away from the gloomy announcement Chip had made during his final time on air. They flipped through the regular channels, settling on a random tennis match taking place on the other side of the world. No one wanted to speak of the dark days that lay ahead.

  II

  The Rise of Chris Speidel

  22

  Chapter 22

  Chris wasn’t one to reminisce about the past. That wasn’t a straightforward task for him, as it was for regular humans. His past was complicated, time non-linear, as he often lost track of the current year. However, the recent happenings—his progress in this seemingly never-ending war—had him thinking back to his earliest days as the Keeper of Time, a title that carried so much weight and power that only a strong-minded individual could be trusted with it.

  He had been forty-two years old when he came into his position as leader of North America. The year was 1962, ten years after he had killed his wife in her sleep and rolled her body into a river where she floated away like a stray leaf in autumn.

  That was perhaps the only event he looked back to from his past life. The night that changed everything and set him on a crash course with his destiny as the Keeper of Time. The Road Runners didn’t come into existence until 1974, leaving Chris with a whole twelve years of peace and free reign without anyone trying to overthrow him or shoot him dead in the street.

  He had plenty to celebrate in the present time. He had recently become the longest tenured Keeper, with fifty-seven years in his position. Those before him typically served terms of ten to fifteen years in real time, and spent hundreds of other years floating around the void of time while their bodies aged only ten minutes per trip.

  Chris entered his role with ambition and vision never before seen by the Revolution. Before him, Keepers of Time had no real sense of guidance, making decisions on a whim. They only had a handful of rules in place, a big no-no in the eyes of Chris, and one of the first tasks he sought to address after taking the reins of the organization.

  Before him, there were no guidelines regarding what kind of people should have the Juice, let alone the secret of time travel. It had always been an unwritten rule to use your best judgment when inviting people into the group, resulting in many families populating the Revolution. Back then, one had to bring their invited guest to meet the Keeper of Time, where a blood sample was drawn to help create that individual’s bottle of Juice. It was a tedious process that inevitably hindered the growth of the Revolution.
>
  Chris wanted to explode their numbers. They were the unofficial police of the world and time, and with a couple thousand members, it felt like they had no chance of achieving anything substantial. They had plenty of research missions into the past and future with the goal of manipulating the world as time progressed. Many Revolters also continued their regular lives after obtaining the Juice, dragging themselves to their day jobs and grinding their way through life.

  Chris had been recruited on the promise of a lifetime of wealth and unlimited resources. He was surprised to learn, after joining, that a majority of the population was left in the dark to struggle financially, an archaic rule in place that any money earned on a time travel trip had to be reported to the Revolution, who typically took an eighty percent cut to cover “administrative fees.”

  Having come from a grueling life himself, Chris abolished this rule, which created his first wave of enemies from those who lived life above everyone else.

  “There is no reason for anyone in our group to live in poverty,” Chris said at his very first public address to the Revolution, a small gathering at a high school gym where 800 members crammed in. “The possibilities are endless with time travel. I’m not saying we need to pay our members for the work they do, but if they earn money on a trip, they have the right to keep that money. We can become a powerful organization through our own missions. We can create missions with the sole purpose of bringing back money.

  “Look at all of the great things that have been invented in the last ten years. We’ve seen Mr. Potato Head, the Hula Hoop, and even the pacemaker. Imagine how much more will be created in the next ten years. We can travel ahead, learn of the new advances, and make them our own today to reap the financial benefits. We can turn not only our organization, but all of our members, into the wealthiest members of society. Imagine a world where we are the hidden superpowers, creating, advancing our planet toward a bright future. We’ll have so much wealth thanks to our knowledge of the future. We can bring our less fortunate neighbors to join us at our new level of excellence. People talk about ending poverty and world hunger all the time, but we could actually make that a reality.”