“If anyone is in this house, speak now, or consider yourself at risk of being shot.”
Strike’s voiced echoed and returned to her with no response. She turned to Tarik, his eyes bulging from their sockets as the realization sunk in that something terrible had happened just minutes ago. The terrifying part was not knowing what awaited in the bedroom.
“Commander,” Tarik whispered urgently. “Shouldn’t I go in first?”
Strike almost laughed. Only Tarik would pull out an official procedure in a time like this. Yes, it was written that if a dangerous situation should arise, the Commander is last to act, sending in others to the potential danger first. This was obviously done for the sake of keeping leadership in tact, but now wasn’t the time to pull out the rule book.
“This is my mess,” she spoke in her normal voice, not believing there was any living person in the house. “I’m going in first. I don’t sense any danger.”
Tarik glared to the blood splatters to say are you shitting me? with his eyes.
Commander Strike turned back to the bedroom and took gentle steps toward it, pistol as far out as her arms would stretch.
When she was within two steps of the bedroom, she leapt across the doorway and into the room, pistol jerking from left to right as if she had expected someone to jump out and attack her.
“Martin,” she said, seeing their newest member flat on his back, eyes closed, blood seeping from his legs. “Martin!”
Holy shit, he’s dead. She killed him. But where is she?
She lowered the pistol, deciding Sonya wasn’t in the house. Why would she hide when she could be in the 1400’s already? “Tarik, get in here.”
He had watched from the living room and let out a long sigh when the Commander called him in. He joined her, and immediately dropped to a knee to examine Martin.
“He’s still alive,” he said. “His breathing is fine.”
Tarik poked Martin on the face, and snapped his fingers right next to his ears. “He’s unconscious. If all of this blood belongs to him, he’s suffered a pretty heavy loss. I see a bullet wound on both legs. One in the kneecap—that could’ve hurt enough to make him faint.”
At first glance, Commander Strike thought the liquid on the other side of Martin was more blood, but with her nerves settling down, she recognized the green liquid for what it was after seeing it next to the spilled, empty bottle.
“Tarik, is that what I think it is?”
He was still hunkered over Martin and pivoted on his knee to examine the mess behind him.
“Oh, my God,” he said, clapping a hand to his mouth. “She cut it out.”
“Cut what out?”
“Her tracking device.”
Tarik reached into the pool of liquid and plucked a small item that Commander Strike had originally thought was the bottle cap.
“Do you know how bad this would hurt?” he cried. “Never mind the cutting open of your own arm, but these devices attach to the muscle—it’s how they stay in place. It wouldn’t have just plucked out like a hair; she would’ve experienced excruciating pain.”
“I don’t care about her pain. Where the hell is she?”
Strike paced around the room, looking for the ultimate truth in this mystery. Every time traveler, whether a Road Runner or a Revolter, was guaranteed to have two things: a bottle of their Juice, and a small flask to carry that same Juice when traveling. There was no other way.
Sonya’s bottle was on the floor, its liquid mixed with blood and no longer useful. Finding the flask—or not—would decide everything from this point forward.
Commander Strike rummaged through Sonya’s dresser before moving to her night stand. Tarik watched her bounce around the room like an alcoholic searching for the private stash they hid from themselves.
“Fuck!” she barked from the nightstand, and sat down on the bed with a silver and blue flask clenched in her grip. She shook her head, looking at the flask like it was fake.
“What does this mean?” Tarik asked, knowing very well what it meant, but not sure what else to say in the spur of the moment.
“She’s gone and not coming back. She has no way back.” The life had left her voice as she debated lying all the way down on Sonya’s bed and crying. How could they have been so close to ending this war, to only end up even further from a solution?
“Commander, if she drank one final drink of her Juice and left, where is her body? Shouldn’t her body be lying here on the ground while she traveled to wherever she went?”
“She doesn’t go by the same rules as us. Only her and Chris have the ability to travel without leaving their bodies behind. Their bodies travel through the dimensions of time. I guess it’s a perk of being related to Chris.”
“She can run, Commander, but we have eyes all over. We can alert everyone we have. At this point, we have to treat Sonya as an outlaw. She needs to be arrested on sight, and if she tries to run, then she needs to be shot.”
This much was true, but it was the last thing Commander Strike wanted to authorize. So fucking close. Sonya was expecting Martin.
There was no other explanation as to why she would’ve shot Martin in both of his legs before fleeing to another time with no return trip home.
“Tarik, we can’t tell anyone about what happened or what our next move is. I think someone has been leaking information to Sonya from the inside.”
92
Chapter 37
Martin woke up in what looked like a hospital room; only it had no windows, no TV, and no beeping machines. There was a closed door with frosted glass, and he assumed he was back in the Road Runners’ office, hopefully still in Denver, and hopefully back in 2018.
His bleary vision came in and out of focus as he looked down at his own body. White bandages were wrapped around both of his legs like a mummy. He tried to move his legs, but an instant blast of pain ruptured from his knee at the slightest movement.
Then he remembered what happened, which he was thankful for after once having woken up in a hospital and not remembering how he had arrived.
“Sonya,” he croaked. Did she really shoot me in both legs to escape? Did she actually consider me that dangerous that she felt she had to flee? If she would’ve just asked, I’d have just turned around and pretended to not notice.
The door swung open and Bill appeared in the doorway. “Good morning, Sunshine.” He turned back into the hall and shouted, “Let the Commander know Martin is awake.”
Bill trudged into the room and approached Martin’s bedside. “That’s quite the beating your legs took. The doctor said it’ll be six weeks until you can get out of those casts. I’ve never had a mummy friend before, so I’m not sure what to expect.”
Bill let out a hoarse chuckle as he slapped a hand on Martin’s chest. Martin couldn’t help but grin in response.
“What happened? What year am I in? Did we find Sonya?”
Bill shook his head, his eyes drooping. “You’re back in 2018, and I’m afraid not. She’s as good as dead, the way I see it. She took off to some other time and has no way of returning; she left her Juice. For all we know, she’s hiding out a million years ago with a group of triceratops. I’m sure we’ll come across her eventually, but something tells me she’s had this escape plan brewing for a while. She’ll be hidden really good.”
“Bill, I wasn’t even doing anything. I wasn’t even going to try and kill her, but she came out of nowhere and shot me before she left.”
“Yeah, I understand. She has no idea who to trust right now. Can you blame her?”
“It just seemed drastic. We were literally talking in her kitchen, about our past, when she pulled a gun out of the drawer and started shooting.”
“Well, at least you’re fine. She spared your life, don’t forget that. She could’ve shot you anywhere, but chose your legs. She’s no dummy; that was intentional.”
“I suppose. So what happens next?”
“Commander Strike will be in to get you up to
speed. You have a long road to recovery ahead, my friend.”
“There’s not some magic medicine from the future that heals my legs in 24 hours?”
Bill laughed. “What exactly do you think the future is like? There’s no magic.”
Says one time traveler to another.
A rapid knock came from the door as Commander Strike entered, dressed in a sweater and jeans. The bags under her eyes had darkened to a deeper shade.
“Haven’t you two become the best of friends,” she commented.
“Martin here is the brother I never had,” Bill said.
“Very good. Do you mind giving us a moment in private?”
“Sure thing, Commander.” Bill patted Martin on the shoulder before leaving the room. Strike took slow strides to the foot of the bed.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Well, it appears I can’t walk, so I’ve had better days.”
“Your legs are going to be fine. You’ll have about a month in those casts, then will be walking within a couple weeks of that. You might have a limp, but we won’t know until you actually start walking.”
“Lovely, hobbling gets all the ladies.”
Commander Strike giggled. “So what happened in there?”
“A paranoid woman shot me in the legs and vanished into dust.”
“We know that much. How did it play out?”
Martin recounted the story from the moment he entered Sonya’s house up until he crawled into her bedroom and fainted.
“Did it seem like she knew what you were up to?”
“She knew everything. She called it out, even told me where the poison was in the duffel bag.”
“I was afraid so. We’ve already begun investigating to see who was leaking information to Sonya. We’re starting with everyone in this office since she had the closest relationships with people here.”
“What’s the word on Chris?”
The Commander pursed her lips at the mention of his name. “We don’t know. His house is still barricaded. No one has gone in or out in the last 16 hours. We’re worried he might have a secret way out, an underground tunnel of sorts. We have eyes on that place and all around Alaska, waiting for him to make a move.”
“That’s kind of scary.”
“Don’t mention it. We’ve had to tell the people that everything is under control, that we know exactly where Chris is.”
“So what happens next? I know I’m not of much help at the moment…”
“We’re officially back to the drawing board. We need a plan for finding Sonya, but that’s more like the needle in a haystack. I guess we’re just hoping to get lucky and stumble across her.”
“One thing she made clear is that no one was going to end her life on their terms.”
“Well, now that the secret’s officially out, we can’t exactly back off. We don’t know if she’ll go into hiding or possible retaliate. It’s not to our benefit to assume one way or the other. If we can at least locate her and know where she is, we can figure it out from there.”
“Exactly how far in time can you travel?”
“As far as you can think. If the year actually exists in the past, you can go to it. Same for the future. If you can’t go to the year, then you’ll just wake back up in your present day.”
“Are you saying you know when the world ends?”
“It’s not for a long time, but we can discuss that another time. I need to know that you’re still with us.”
“Of course.”
“I hoped so. Some would go running for the hills after going through what just happened to you. ”
“I’m committed to this cause, maybe even more now. I still want what we agreed upon. I have to save my mom.”
Commander Strike sighed. “I’ve been expecting you to bring that up. I have looked into the matter. The cure exists in the future, but it’s not easy to obtain.”
“I’ll get it. Whatever it takes.”
Commander Strike shook her head, causing some hair to fall over her face. “It’s not what you think. The medicine is being held in secret by the government.”
“Why would they keep it a secret?”
“You’ll understand when you see this government—there’s no interest in caring for people. It’s all about money. Only the richest citizens have access to the medical secrets.”
“Aren’t we all rich? Can’t we just buy some?”
“It’s not a matter of only money. Every person who receives this medicine has to be vetted by the government. They hook you up to a lie detector—and this is an advanced one—and ask you about your loyalty to the Revolution. If they find you’re loyal, they’ll let you buy it. If not, they send you off, or might even execute you depending on your answers to their questions.”
“The Revolters take control of the country?”
“Yes, that’s why we have an urgency to end the war. We’ve seen the future with them in charge, and it’s not a world anyone should have to live in.”
“I’ve already lived through hell way before I met Chris. I’m not scared of a little danger.”
“I knew I wouldn’t be able to talk you out of this. We’ll make arrangements for you to go as soon your legs are healed. As you’ll need to be mobile. There aren’t any more accommodations for handicapped people in the future.”
“Why aren’t you pushing back harder on this?”
“We owe you—I owe you,” she said, crossing her arms. “I didn’t think the situation we were sending you into would have any danger. You’re not even trained to be in the field as a Road Runner, and clearly you should have been. I rushed into this decision and it almost got you killed. I have to live with that.”
“There was no time to waste.”
“There was plenty of time. We had eyes on Sonya. She wasn’t going to move until we approached. She was waiting for us to make her escape.”
“One thing I’ve learned since time traveling is to not dwell on past decisions. It’s over, and I’m alive. You’re not doing anyone any good by looking back. It’s time to plan for what’s next.”
She nodded, appreciative of the comment. “Oh, I’ve been thinking about what comes next. Now that I know you’re committed to the Road Runners, what do you think about taking a position in the field—after we get your mom’s medicine, of course?”
“What kind of position?”
“I don’t know yet. You would have to go through field training; it’s a boot camp of sorts. From there, we’ll have a better assessment of your strengths and weaknesses. But there are all kinds of roles you can take on, and we still haven’t figured out how to use your special gift to our advantage.”
Martin had forgotten all about being “warm.” Perhaps he’d get to trail blaze a whole new role. “As long as I don’t have to sit in there all day, I’ll take anything.” He nodded to the door where the dozens of desk workers waited on the other side.
“Don’t worry, the office workers also go through a rigorous education program. Two years, seven days a week, if that interests you?”
“Nope.”
Commander Strike laughed. “We’ll get you a ride home so you can recover from the comfort of your own house. We’ll come check in with you in a few weeks and see about your rehab schedule. Then we can plan from there.”
They wrapped up their conversation with some small talk, and Martin couldn’t stop grinning, despite the pain and drama he had just endured. He felt part of something bigger than himself for the first time in his life. The stress that Chris had created by leaving so many questions unaddressed had washed away. The Road Runners would support him in anything he needed going forward, and they proved that by staying true to their word on helping him obtain the cure for Marilyn’s disease.
The future, which sounded like a dystopian nightmare by everyone who had traveled there, awaited Martin and his next adventure. He already knew the road ahead would bring more unforeseen twists, but he finally had control over his life, knowing
what he wanted. And as he lay down, staring at the ceiling and pondering what his life would look like in the next six months, one thought played over and over that kept his spirits high.
I’m a Road Runner.
III
Bad Faith
Wealth of Time Series, Book #3
93
Bad Faith Cover
94
Chapter 1
Martin Briar sprawled in the mud, a generous gash oozing blood over his exhausted legs, his arms screaming in protest, sweat rolling down his mud-caked face, his entire body numb with pain.
“Pain is weakness leaving your body!” Staff Master Collins had barked at least 200 times over the past two months in his sharp, intimidating growl. Martin particularly enjoyed when the belligerent staff master would drop to the ground as he completed his 150th push-up, shouting that same line in his face while demanding fifty more.
Martin had put on a few pounds during his twelve-week recovery and rehab from Sonya blasting his legs into uselessness, but the Road Runner Training Program was simply a nice way of phrasing “boot camp.” With the calendar flipping to 2019, Martin shed all of the extra weight, and for the first time since his twenties, sported actual muscles.
“I’m too old for this shit,” he had muttered under his breath on the first day, wondering how the hell he’d make it to the finish line. Staff Master Collins had promised to destroy the body and psyche of all those in attendance, a group of Martin and six others recently recruited to join the Road Runners. Only one had dropped out after the first week, leaving the rest to form a bond and push each other through the ten-week program.
“You people don’t know true hell,” Staff Master Collins had calmly explained one day after training ended. He stood exactly six feet tall, with muscles bulging from every centimeter of his dark-skinned body, a heavy brow line keeping his face in a constant frown. Even his muscles have muscles, Martin noted before the first day of training.
Wealth of Time Series Boxset Page 54
