Wealth of Time Series Boxset

by Andre Gonzalez

  “We have more than one jet.”

  “Why didn’t you just ride with me?”

  “Commander Strike wanted you to have a moment alone to gather your thoughts. We all had a good laugh when you fell asleep right away.” Bill chuckled to himself.

  “I wouldn’t have minded. If she would’ve just asked, I’d tell her I planned on sleeping.”

  Bill raised a hand. “It’s no worries, we have jets all over the world and can refuel them for incredibly cheap in the past. She wanted a familiar face when you arrived, and asked for me to come right away in case you made a quick decision, which it appears you have.”

  Bill’s old face cracked into a warm grin.

  “Yes. I had a long talk with my mother, and spent time reflecting on what I want. I’m ready to discuss terms.”

  “Glad to hear. Let’s go down so you can meet the Lead Runner here in Denver—he’s been anxious since the Commander got on the phone with him after you left Alaska. You drove, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good, you can drive us over.”

  “I thought this is where we’re supposed to be.”

  Bill looked up and around, examining his dim surroundings. “This is a parking garage.”

  He slapped Martin on the back and cackled. “This is just our meeting place – we don’t actually conduct our business in a parking garage.”

  But you do out of an outhouse basement?

  “We have some office space about ten minutes away, walking. But I’m tired. So you can drive us there in 2 minutes. Let’s go.”

  Martin noticed the droop in Bill’s eyes. The old man was probably ready to relax for the evening after having found the Road Runner’s most prized person. Then Commander Strike sent him on a five-hour flight across the country to meet with that same man. He led the way to his car and drove to the office building that really was two minutes away. On the exterior, a sign hung on the brick building to welcome them to Centennial Marketing. The windows provided a view into the office where unattended computer monitors glowed in the darkness.

  “There’s a parking space up front just for this building. Take it.”

  Martin obliged and wiggled into the tight space.

  “You conduct all of this business out in the open like this? Anyone could just walk in.”

  “Oh, Martin, we’re not dumb like Chris and his obnoxious storefronts. This really is a marketing company, operated by us. There’s a staircase in the far back of the building, behind the manager’s office, where no one from the public would even be able to get to.”

  Martin nodded. “Another basement hideout?”

  “Always a basement hideout. Being underground doesn’t allow things like our cell phones or other electronics to be detected. It’s the safest way to conceal what we do, and it’s worked forever.” Bill opened his door and stepped out, prompting Martin to do the same.

  Martin gathered his surroundings, and found they were only three blocks south of the Chop House, and one away from the Oxford Hotel that seemed to live three hundred years in the past.

  Bill climbed up the three short steps to the office building, wiggled a key in the lock, and pushed open the door with a steady swoosh.

  Martin joined him inside and let the door close, the lock clicking shut immediately. Bill had already worked his way through most of the office and was toward the end of the long hallway. “Let’s go, Martin, lots to do.”

  Martin walked faster to keep up and joined Bill outside of a door that had MANAGER written in big letters.

  “Right through here.”

  Bill pushed open the door to a standard office: desk, computer, filing cabinets with papers bursting out. He crossed the messy room and tapped on a cabinet along the back wall. A vibration rattled the ground as the sound of a humming motor filled the silence. The cabinet slid aside, revealing a dark hole that led into the ground.

  “This way,” Bill said, dropping a foot into the darkness. As he did, a light flickered to life, illuminating the path below. The steps and walls were all made of stone, lined with modern fluorescent lights that appeared out of place.

  Bill started down the stairs, boots clapping and echoing just as they had in the parking garage moments ago.

  Martin followed, taking careful steps, expecting the ancient stone to suddenly crumble beneath his shoes. No such thing happened, and he reached the bottom landing to find a whole other world.

  The layout was similar to the one he had seen in Alaska, with desks spread across the middle of the floor as TVs hung on the walls. This location had an aquarium in the ground, a billiards table in the back, glowing glass refrigerators, and sofas in an area that appeared to be a lounge.

  “Whoa,” Martin said, glancing around the room. No one froze to gawk at him like he was a rare species. At least forty men and women kept their focus on their computer screens, some appearing more relaxed than others as they watched movies instead of tracking down Revolters.

  “Welcome to our Denver office,” Bill said, looking around the room in search of someone. “I’ve only been here a couple of times—I go where the Commander goes, usually. Tarik runs Denver. I just don’t see him anywhere.”

  On cue, a man no older than 40 raised his hand in the furthest corner of the room and started jogging toward them. Bill waved back and they waited.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said, sticking out a hand. “Martin, I’m Tarik. We’ll be working closely together since I oversee our Denver operations. I understand you’re a native of the city?”

  “I am.”

  “Fantastic. Beautiful city. I’m originally from Egypt, but moved here ten years ago on assignment from the Commander.”

  Martin couldn’t help but examine Tarik. His new Egyptian ally had brown skin, buzzed black hair, and muscles that would rip his t-shirt apart if he did so much as sneeze. He had all the appearances of a military man, even down to the cargo pants that hung loosely around his waist.

  “Shall we step into my office?” Tarik asked.

  Bill nodded and they followed Tarik around the corner into an office that looked no different than the Commander’s, only this one had no bottle of scotch. Hard to justify alcohol when you had to maintain muscles strong enough to rip a head off a body.

  Tarik guided them in as he closed the door behind. “Commander Strike gave me her blessing to accept your response and negotiate on her behalf.” He crossed the office and sat down in his well-cushioned chair across from Bill and Martin. “Let’s get right to it. We want you, Martin, and are willing to work with you to ensure you’ll join the Road Runners.”

  Martin nodded and folded his hands on his lap. “I’m interested in joining. But I do have a condition.”

  “Let’s hear it.” Tarik watched Martin with studious, brown eyes.

  “My mom has Alzheimer’s disease, recently diagnosed. It’s my understanding that there’s a cure for it in the future. No matter what I get tasked to do with the Road Runners, I want it known that my main priority is to get this medicine to my mom as soon as possible.”

  “Did Chris tell you there’s a cure?”

  “Yes,” he lied, relying on faith that there would be such thing.

  “Hmmm. I’m not sure that there is, but I’m happy to look into it for you. I caution against traveling to the future alone—it’s a truly dangerous time.”

  Martin’s stomach sunk at this news. You motherfucker, Chris.

  “Well, what can I do? This is kind of a deal breaker. I need that medicine.”

  “Look, I don’t know how far in the future we may need to go to find this. Just because I don’t know off the top of my head if it exists or not, doesn’t make it definitive. I can look. I’ll even look tonight. If it’s real, it’s yours.”

  “Thank you. I’d like to know soon. Tonight preferably.”

  “Consider it done. And what do you plan to do if the medicine isn’t real? Surely, you can’t just go home and forget all about this.”

  “I c
an, and I will. That’s all I care about. Your war has gone on for hundreds of years; I highly doubt I’m the secret ingredient.”

  “You’d be surprised. But before I get into that, I want to make sure there’s nothing else you want to discuss.”

  “Sonya—I want to see her.”

  “What for exactly?”

  “I never got closure. I just want to leave her knowing nothing was held back.”

  Tarik squirmed in his seat. “I’m afraid we can’t accommodate that request.”

  “Why not? She’s a Road Runner. It should be pretty straightforward to arrange a meeting with all of your fancy jets.”

  “It’s not the logistics we can’t handle. You see, Sonya is actually a part of your mission should you join us. And we can’t have you seeing her before we give the green light.”

  “Part of my mission? How?”

  “You’re going to kill her.”

  84

  Chapter 29

  Martin sat in silence for the next three minutes, staring from Tarik, to the ceiling, to the floor. Tarik let his words sink in while Martin fidgeted in his chair like a student in detention. Bill remained quiet, as he had throughout the entire exchange, staring at the walls, likely praying someone would let him out of the office.

  “I’m sorry,” Martin finally said. “Did you say you want me to kill Sonya?”

  Tarik nodded with his hands folded beneath his chin.

  “Absolutely not. Are you crazy?”

  Martin fought his urge to jump across the desk and choke this meathead. It wouldn’t end well going up against such a strong man, but one should never underestimate the power of a fit of rage.

  Tarik raised a finger. “Trust me when I tell you this was not why we wanted to bring you on board, but a unique opportunity has arisen because of it. We’ve also never killed any of our own, but some new and critical intel has shown this as a likely way of killing Chris.”

  “So killing Sonya is a way to kill Chris? Do you know how stupid that sounds?”

  “I know how stupid it sounds to someone who doesn’t know how this all works, yes. But there is evidence – overwhelming evidence – that this will work. Killing Chris will end the war in North America. Since the rest of the world unofficially follows Chris as the main leader of the Revolters, his death will likely mean the end of the war around the globe.”

  Martin shook his head, his lips pursed.

  “You’re right, Martin,” Tarik continued. “This war has gone on for too long. We’ve exhausted thousands of options, tried hundreds of tactics, all to no avail. This option has been debated dozens of times in the last two weeks, and both sides feel strongly.”

  “What side are you on?”

  “I’m against it.” Tarik paused and looked down.

  “But…?”

  “But it should work. Is taking one life worth the millions that can be saved? I used to say no, but having been to the future and seeing what becomes of this world, it’s hard to argue against trying anything to prevent it.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “Oh, it’s not bad. It’s fucking horrifying. It’s not a world you want to live in, or have anyone live in. It’s hell on Earth.”

  “Why does Sonya have to die?”

  “Sonya is Chris’s daughter.”

  Martin opened his mouth and closed it, and then scrunched his face into pure confusion. “I’m sorry, did you say his daughter?”

  “I’m afraid so. We’ll have plenty of time to go into the history, but Chris tied his soul to her. As long as she lives, he lives.”

  “There’s no such thing as tying your soul to something,” Martin said flatly, frustration bubbling beneath every word.

  “Right, just like there’s no such thing as time travel, or freezing time. Open your mind, Martin, this is all real. It wasn’t hard for Chris to do this. Granted, planting your soul on another is hard, but he had all the time in the world when Sonya was just a child.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “It means that if Sonya is alive, Chris is immortal. If she’s dead, he becomes a regular human being just like you and me. Bullets can actually puncture his lungs, his skull can explode. None of that is possible as long as Sonya’s still breathing.”

  “Does she know that his soul is tied to her?”

  “Yes. He told her when she was a teenager. The funny part is she pretends to not know about it anymore, probably for good reason.”

  “So that you won’t kill her to end the war.”

  “Exactly. She doesn’t know that we’ve had teams putting in heavy research on Chris’s earlier days before he became a Revolter and master of time. It’s been grueling espionage, especially with the amount of eyes Chris keeps on him and his property—he always has. We’ve got to a point, though, where we found this to be true. We overheard the conversation between him and Sonya when he admitted what he had done. The planting of his soul has no bearing on her, other than making her a prime target for anyone wanting to take down Chris.”

  “So if I kill her, you guys kill Chris?”

  “At the very next moment we get, yes.”

  “Why do I have to do it?”

  “We think she’s on to us. There have been some half-hearted attempts at a quiet execution—we don’t want the community to know that we’re willing to kill our own. It goes against our values.”

  “Then why do it?”

  “I’m not going over this again. We need to save the world from itself, and this has become the main option. Believe me, we love Sonya. She’s been a factor in every major decision for the Road Runners. And now she still is. The ultimate sacrifice.”

  “Again, why me?” Martin was growing sick of Tarik beating around the bush. Bill continued staring into space.

  “She has never spoken of anyone like she does about you.”

  This statement sent an instant flutter to Martin’s chest.

  “We believe she’ll let you close enough to actually pull this off. She’ll let her guard down. She’s doesn’t have any emotions, but there’s definitely something there for you. We tried to get her to admit it, but she refuses every time. But we feel it.”

  “You want to use her love for me to kill her.” Martin said this more for himself to process, his guts twisting like a rung out dishrag. She loves me and they want me to kill her. I love her, too. “I can’t do that. It’s absurd, and I’m not a killer.”

  “We thought you’d say that. We really need you to look at the big picture. If you want to join me on a trip to the future to see how bad it will get, I’m happy to do that. Again, this is our last resort. Even the people who voted in favor of this are against the thought of having to kill Sonya. But we have no choice.”

  “I’m not killing the only person I’ve loved in the last 20 years. Even if it was all a lie.”

  Tarik stood up. “Let’s take a break. Commander Strike is on her way and should be here in the next hour. We can reconvene at that time and you can discuss any further concerns with her. How does that sound?”

  “That’s fine with me. I’m still interested in being a Road Runner—I just can’t go through with this specifically.”

  “Understood. Feel free to relax in our lounge, and we’ll have someone come grab you when Commander Strike gets here.”

  Tarik pulled open the office door and gestured for Bill and Martin to leave.

  * * *

  Bill parted ways with Martin when they stepped out, telling him to take time alone to think. One thing had become clear about the Road Runners: they truly didn’t believe in forcing the issue. In their eyes, they had the most prized possession of the war in Martin, and yet no one had done more than try to persuade him into joining the cause. Chris hadn’t even had a direct conversation with Martin and already had plans to throw him into the basement if he didn’t oblige.

  Martin crossed the main floor, where the mood was relaxed compared to the tension inside Tarik’s office. Still, no one so much as looked up a
t him. Everyone remained deep into their computer screens, and some had even pulled out beds from under their desks and prepared for a night’s sleep.

  Do these people live here? he wondered, and would ask the Commander when she arrived.

  Martin went to the lounge and plopped down on a sofa. Refrigerators hummed in the background as the soft murmur of voices faded into distant whispers from the office floor. He wanted to lie down, but decided it wouldn’t look good for their savior to take a nap while everyone else worked diligently.

  He thought back to his talk with his mom, wondering if she would have given the same advice if she knew killing was part of the job.

  How am I even supposed to kill Sonya? This is barbaric. If they want to do it so badly, they should do it themselves. They can hide out so well around the world, surely they can cover up a simple murder.

  Martin buried his face into his palms, clammy with sweat, and prayed for a way out of this situation. Maybe the calling for a new life was reserved for those with ambition. He would still be content running off to an exotic country and spending his money and life there until the end. He wouldn’t live into this supposedly scary future, and no longer had a child who would, either. None of this was his problem.

  I can give them some of my blood so they can run tests on what makes me so special, but I don’t need to be a part of this. I’m not going to get a desk in this office and sleep under it for a war that has no end. This is all a sucker’s bet. They claim that leaving isn’t an option, but it always is.

  He thought about how Chris had randomly shown up at the cabin when he and Sonya had left town for a few days after the coma. Chris had been the furthest thing from his mind, yet he still showed up, uninvited and in the middle of the mountains.

  You know he’ll find you. He probably already knows where you are. The Road Runners aren’t the only ones in this war. He has ways of finding people, too.

  Martin felt queasy and fought off nervous belches that tried to make their way up. He suffered a mild out-of-body experience when everyone in the room stood up and faced the entrance.