“We recruited him four years ago,” Duane said. “He converted to the Road Runners after one year, and is now the leader of the Liberation. I had a preliminary discussion with him about moving to Alaska to serve in the mansion. Shortly after, he abandoned us.”
“Lovely. All can be forgiven when I meet with him.”
“I found his address – I’ll message it over to you.”
“Thanks as always, Duane. Even when you’re not working you’re still a lifesaver. Take care of that mother of yours, and we’ll see you soon.”
They hung up and Chris instructed his pilot to take him to Sacramento where Thaddeus lived. He had grown accustomed to long flights, a given since he basically lived in the North Pole. The trip to northern California would be on the shorter end of seven hours in the air, six if his pilot wanted to press the matter.
He fell into his jet’s recliner and let his mind wander ahead, preparing for what he was going to say to the leader of the Liberation.
* * *
They landed six hours later, thanks to the pilot making record time. The afternoon was mild as the sun fought through clouds to provide flashes of warmth between random gusts of wind.
Chris felt his legs turn numb after bouncing them for the last hour of the flight. Now was the time to strike a deal, and hopefully, turn this war on its axis. During the flight, Chris looked into the Revolution’s database of every recruit they’d ever had, tracking down Thaddeus Hamilton to his current address on Pinedale Avenue on the northern outskirts of California’s capital.
The hangar they had flown into was not too far from this location, a quick five-minute drive into the peaceful neighborhood with manicured lawns in front of the two-story homes that lined the block. Chris had been to plenty of middle-class suburban neighborhoods, and this one appeared no different.
The car stopped in front of the house, and Chris stepped out to catch a breeze ruffling his frosty hair. He didn’t know if Thaddeus was even home. If not, he’d camp out all day and wait. Surely the potential end to the war against the Road Runners was worth a few hours of waiting after brewing for nearly fifty years.
Chris walked up the pathway and knocked a stern fist on the door, a solid oak with no windows to see inside, and no peephole from what he could tell. He crossed his hands in front of his crotch and swayed side to side as he waited.
The door’s lock started to jiggle and click, the chunk of oak swinging inward to reveal a tall man whose bulging eyes met Chris’s gaze. “What the—” Thaddeus cried out and slammed the door shut.
Chris smirked, understanding the poor man’s surprise of seeing the Keeper of Time at his front door, and knocked again. “Mr. Hamilton, I assure you I’m here in peace. I need a word, if you don’t mind.”
He stared at the door that returned silence. Thaddeus may have sprinted to his basement to start loading up his guns, but surely he knew that would have no effect on Chris. He raised his fist and banged on the door, rattling the hinges as tiny clouds of dust puffed from the edges. “Mr. Hamilton, please don’t make me use force to break down this door! I just want a peaceful conversation.”
The door rattled once more, and slowly creaked open, the barrel of a shotgun sticking out through the crack. “What are you doing here?” Thaddeus shouted.
Chris rolled his eyes. “I said I need to speak with you. I’m not here to hurt you. My God, does everyone really have this many trust issues with me?”
“You’re pure evil,” Thaddeus barked back. “You have nothing to speak of to me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I heard the little barbecue you had at the Road Runners’ New York office was all your doing. I applaud what you accomplished. You’ve struck more fear into them than I ever have. I’ve never seen them go into hiding.”
“That has nothing to do with you!”
“Look, Thaddy—that’s what they call you, right?—I know it has nothing to do with the Revolution, but you have to understand that I am the Keeper of Time. It’s my duty to know what is going on with those of us who time travel. I hold nothing against you for leaving us for the Road Runners—you’re hardly the first or last—but I am intrigued by this new movement you’ve started. Will you agree to let me come in and talk? You can frisk me if it puts your mind at ease.”
Chris raised his hands to show that he was indeed not here to start any problems.
“You can talk to me just like this. What do you want?”
Chris sighed. “I know that’s not really what you want to do. It’s my understanding you used to own a farm. Did you move to this nice suburban neighborhood to not be so isolated? Surely when you started to run an organization whose mission is to destroy the Road Runners, you understood the great risk of staying in such a solitary location and moved here where you know no one will cause a ruckus. Do you think I won’t make a scene in front of all your neighbors? I can have this entire block engulfed in flames with a quick phone call, if you’d prefer.”
The shotgun wavered before disappearing into the cracked open door. “Come in with your hands up,” Thaddeus said, defeated, the door opening all the way.
Chris smirked and entered the house as instructed, meeting a scared Thaddeus who still had the shotgun aimed square at his forehead.
“You know if you shoot me in the head it does nothing, right? It just pisses me off, and then I have to kill you. For appearances, of course.”
“Please don’t speak until I say so.” Thaddeus spoke in a voice mixed with fear and authority, an odd combination that Chris hadn’t ever heard directed toward him. “If you try anything, I promise I’ll blow your head off. Surely you can’t piece yourself back together before I throw your skull fragments in the fireplace.”
“I love that kind of talk,” Chris replied with a grin.
Thaddeus lowered the shotgun and jab-stepped toward Chris, quickly patting his legs and arms, as if he were being forced to touch some slimy goo for a high school science experiment.
“Wow, you really are clear, who would’ve thought?” Thaddeus remarked.
“I’m not as evil as you all like to think—only when I need to be. I left my pistol in the car just so you’d talk.”
“Come sit down,” Thaddeus said, turning toward the living room across the way, shotgun back in his two-handed grip. He had two couches facing each other with a coffee table in the center, cleared of clutter with the exception of a potted plant that caught the direct rays shining through the window. Chris shuffled over and sat opposite Thaddeus, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back as if this had been his hundredth visit to an old friend’s house. “What is it you want, Chris?”
“I’m not going to waste your time. I want to join forces and wipe out the Road Runners. We’ve got them dazed, just need to go for the knockout punch to send them to sleep.”
Thaddeus frowned as he sat with his large hands planted on his knees, leaning forward. “Why on Earth would I do such a thing? I don’t trust you, and neither does anyone else in my group.”
“That’s your first problem,” Chris said, raising his bony finger in the air. “You only see yourself as a group of people trying to do good. You’re an organization, and the sooner you start treating yourself as such, the further you’ll go with your work. I have the experience of running the biggest and baddest organization in our world of time travel. I can offer resources that would take you decades to build—and we don’t have time to spare. The Road Runners will retaliate. They always do.”
“We’re not worried about the Road Runners. They don’t even truly know who we are. And like you said, many think it was you who burned their building down, and I don’t mind letting them think that. It keeps their attention away from us.”
“So you must be planning on doing more. If not, you would just claim responsibility for the fire. You like the thought of flying under their radar so you can do more work. And you know what, I’ll help you. I’ll play along. I’ll even make a statement that the Revolution did this.”<
br />
“You’d love to take the credit.”
“Stop playing games. We both want the same thing—I wish you could see that. Take your blinders off, and see that we can wipe the Road Runners off the face of the planet if we just work together.”
“You sound desperate, Chris. My group only has one thousand members across the country. We’re less than one percent the size of both the Revolution or the Road Runners. Either of you could eliminate us if you decided.”
“You may be small, but you have a monstrous movement behind you. The Road Runners shot themselves in the foot by letting Strike die. You can roll with that, especially once they elect Briar as their next commander—that’s only going to spark a fresh wave of outrage for your base to recruit more members. I’ve seen this play out before – it’s no different than the rise of the Road Runners, and look at them now.”
Thaddeus considered this, brushing his fingers over his chin as he frowned in deep thought. He gazed into the distance, beyond Chris and toward the kitchen behind the old man. “What are your thoughts, exactly? How would this work?”
Got him, Chris thought, fighting off a new grin.
“I’ve already told you that I’m open to publicly taking responsibility for your attack. Let me help you by doing just that. You can keep working behind the scenes while all the attention is on me, and strike again. And if you need any additional resources, just let me know.”
“And what’s in it for you?” Thaddeus studied Chris like a poker player trying to figure out his opponent, burning a gaze into his very soul.
“The end of the Road Runners. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Then the Revolution can return to its peaceful ways before everyone decided they hated me.”
“There’s always something in it for you, though. That’s why people hate you. Just tell me what you want.”
Chris shrugged and tossed his hands in the air. “I’ve told you what I want, and that’s why I came here today. You do realize I’ve been trapped in my house for several weeks now? I made a run for it and hoped for the best—it really was a good time, considering all the Road Runners are hiding. Before they vanished like the cowards they are, I couldn’t step foot outside without someone wanting to snatch me away like a piece of property. The stars have aligned fatefully for us to meet today, and we can both get what we want.”
Thaddeus looked down to the hardwood floor beneath his feet, and Chris watched as the man fought every instinct to trust Chris.
“Look,” Chris said. “If you agree to join forces with me, I’ll endorse the Liberation as a legitimate time travel organization. You can all live in peace without fear of the Revolution becoming territorial over you, and you can still operate under your own sets of rules and leadership. Zero interference.”
“Answer one question for me,” Thaddeus said sternly. “Why haven’t you been able to beat the Road Runners on your own?”
Chris folded his hands on his lap before answering. “They have people within the Revolution, and it’s been impossible to catch everyone who is living this lie. We plan things, but the Road Runners are always ready for it. Keep in mind, they departed from us. And that’s why I want your assistance, because you have departed from them, and I assume you still have people on the inside.”
Thaddeus nodded. “That we do.”
Chris watched, knowing he was reeling Thaddeus into an agreement. “Well, what do you think?”
“I think I’m making a mistake, but I’m intrigued. Your support will help speed up our plans an entire three years. I’d be stupid to not accept this offer. Put it in writing, and you have a deal.”
“Consider it done,” Chris said, rising to his feet and extending a hand. “Let’s get rid of these Road Runners once and for all.”
Chris immediately made a phone call to get a formal document drafted and delivered to Thaddeus within the hour. Both men now had what they wanted: a clear path to executing the Road Runners.
33
Chapter 33
“I look out my window and don’t see the world that I grew up in anymore,” Martin said into his cell phone. When he woke in the morning after a late night of strategic discussions with his campaign team, he had the urge to speak with his closest friend and confidant, Gerald, who lived in the horrific future. They hadn’t spoken since Martin’s trip to 2064 for his mother’s medicine, but they picked up as if they hadn’t missed a beat. “And I’m not even talking about the state of the Road Runners—which is total shit right now—just the world in general. Violence is everywhere, everyone has become selfish and only worried about themselves, no one knows what exactly to trust. I just don’t see how the world changes for the better.”
“Well,” Gerald said in his usual baritone, “The world doesn’t change, as you saw from the future. It does get worse, and there’s not much anyone can do about it.”
“But what if we can? I’m announcing my candidacy for commander this afternoon.”
“So I’ve heard. It’s a big day the Road Runners will look back on, and I’m not sure how it will go down in history.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a split happening, Martin, and it’s been in motion—slowly—until we all had to watch Commander Strike’s murder. Just like when people left the Revolution to start the Road Runners, we’re seeing the same thing happen to us. I suppose it’s human nature for people to become dissatisfied with the status quo and take matters into their own hands. I can’t say I’m surprised by the movement, but I am shocked at how quickly it has grown in just a few days.”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to bring confidence back to all of these Road Runners.”
“There’s nothing you can say. I lived through this same thing in the future. In time, people will decide that their lives are best spent not hiding in their basement, and they’ll find their way back to civilization. What you need to focus on is Chris and this Liberation group. I suspect they’ll both be coming at you aggressively. When Chris smells blood in the water, he strikes. And right now, we are spouting blood as an organization.”
Martin had taken the call in his second-floor bedroom, pacing around nervously. He had no desire to eat breakfast, but knew it was just nerves for his big speech later that afternoon.
“I need help, Gerald. I don’t know anything about war or those types of matters. Would you be my number two if I actually win this election?” Silence poured out of the phone, but Martin could still hear the distant white noise of Gerald’s breathing. “Gerald? Take your time if you need. The election is still a few weeks away—”
“I’ll do it.”
“Oh . . . okay?”
“I had every intent on helping the cause, I just wasn’t sure in what capacity, exactly. But this is a great opportunity.”
“Yes, I need your experience. I’ll be leaning on you for just about everything.”
“I understand, Martin, but I’ll still follow your lead. You’ll be the commander, not me.”
“Will you be able to fly out here before my speech? It would be nice to have you present so I can announce you as my running mate.”
Martin pulled the cell phone away from his ear to check the time, finding it was only eight o’clock. His speech wasn’t scheduled until three in the afternoon.
“Yes, I should be able to make it.”
“Perfect. I’ll send you the address for where to meet. See you then.”
They hung up and Martin had to stop himself from pacing. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders, knowing Gerald would be by his side during his commandership. He brought a militaristic approach to life and would serve honorably as the Road Runners’ lieutenant commander.
With an extra bounce in his step, Martin returned downstairs where his campaign team huddled around the kitchen table, laptops open, sheets of paper sprawled across the table in chaos. They couldn’t have had more than five hours of sleep, but worked and spoke with an energy Martin hoped he could match.
“Go
od morning, all,” Martin said as he strolled in.
Tony sat in the center of his team and was the only one to look up and acknowledge Martin. “Morning, Mr. Briar. Are you ready for the big day?”
“I suppose I am,” Martin said as he stepped all the way into the kitchen. Everyone else on the team was writing furiously, as if they might never get the chance to write again. “I spoke with Gerald this morning, and he’s agreed to be my number two.”
Tony’s face lit up with joy. “Excellent. That’s fantastic news. We can discuss that in a bit, but right now we’re working on finishing up the first draft of your speech so you can read it over and let us know your thoughts.”
“I didn’t realize you were going to write my speech. I was planning on giving it on the fly.”
Tony chuckled as he shook his head. “There are few people in the world who can pull off an impromptu speech and have its message truly resonate with their audience. Speech writing is a frustrating art, but necessary. We’re not just writing words, although that’s how it starts. But we have to mold those words to fit your voice, your flow, your timing. There are so many factors at play. The way you say a phrase may differ from the way I’d say the same thing, and that can lead to the message being received differently by the audience. We each focus on a different aspect of this process and polish the speech until it’s perfect. We’ll have you read it aloud to us to make sure you understand everything in it—we even write in when you should pause, when you should make eye contact, and even when to take a sip of water.”
“I had no idea so much went into this.”
“It’s a grueling process, but we nearly have it down to a science. It’s more a matter of making it sound like you. Remember, today will be many people’s first impression of you, so it has to be strong but not aggressive, compassionate but not soft. It’s a fine line we’re walking here, but I like how it’s coming along. Are you comfortable with public speaking?”
Keeper of Time (Wealth of Time Series, Book 4) Page 20
