Sonya stepped into his embrace and planted her lips on his. Their kiss lasted a couple seconds, but her flavor would forever remain in Martin’s memory. As she pulled away, she slipped a brown paper bag into Martin’s hand, closing his fingers around it with her own.
“Go take care of your mother. She needs you. Goodbye.”
Sonya stared into Martin’s soul with her hazel eyes, and he held on to the moment, storing it for the rest of his life.
“Bye, Sonya.”
She walked away, crossing Colfax toward the downtown skyscrapers. Martin’s heart insisted she wasn’t really leaving forever, but his mind said otherwise. It only took a minute for her to walk out of his life, just as quickly as she had come into it.
123
Chapter 30
Martin dragged himself out of the city, a throbbing sensation radiating from his gut. Every particle of his heart told him to turn around and spend the rest of his life with Sonya. Even his mother would give her blessing if that was what he desired. Passing by all the robotic businessmen convinced him to keep walking. This is no world to live in.
Gerald was waiting in the same spot like he said, and perked up behind the wheel upon seeing Martin return so soon. The van idled, and as he approached, Martin heard music for the first time in this futuristic hellhole. The beat was a clash of electronic dance music and hip-hop, notably with no lyrics.
Gerald punched off the radio when Martin opened the door and sat down, the brown bag clutched depressingly in his grip.
“That’s it?” Gerald asked, staring at the bag.
Martin nodded and opened the bag for the first time, pulling out a white pill bottle that looked no different from something you’d pick up at the local pharmacy. There was no label, just a scribble on the bottle that read Take one pill every day for 30 days.
“What’s wrong?” Gerald asked as Martin sulked silently in his seat.
“It was hard, okay. You may all be trained to murder Sonya, but I love her. Saying goodbye wasn’t easy.”
“I’m sorry, Martin. It’s not that I’m not sympathetic—please understand that. I feel for you, and under normal circumstances I’d say let’s take a few days off and go drink at a bar. But we gotta get you and Brigham the hell out of here. It’s not safe. They stole Web’s laptop when they killed him. So it’s only a matter of time before they break through his security and find out what we are doing here. They’ll be back within the next few days, and it’s best that none of us are around.”
“I understand. We’re all just doing our jobs.”
Martin studied the pill bottle, his chest empty of emotion. Could this be the pain Chris was referring to? Was setting up his mother with Alzheimer’s just a step to get him to this lovesick point of near depression? Chris was certainly crafty enough to orchestrate such a drawn-out plan.
He shook his head free of the thoughts, knowing they’d creep back in plenty of times over the next few days.
“When we get back to the hotel, we’ll take about ten minutes to make sure all of our stuff is gathered, then we’re leaving.” Gerald spoke as he started driving, leaving Sonya and futuristic Denver in the rear view.
Martin leaned on the van door and wished nothing more than to go back to that day in 2018 when his mother asked him to take her to the new antique store in town. He rarely told her no, but it would have been worth every ounce of joy today. Would she have still developed Alzheimer’s? Would he have eventually shot himself? Would Izzy’s body ever have been found, sending Lela to prison?
It was impossible to answer these questions, so he had to trust that things worked out the way they were supposed to, regardless of what he actually wanted.
“Gerald, can I ask you something?” Martin spoke like a nervous child.
“Of course.”
“Sonya said some things about me being considered for Commander. Do you know anything about that?”
Gerald nodded. “It’s true,” he said, nonchalant.
“Were you going to tell me?”
“It’s not for me to tell. I’m a soldier, Martin. I take orders. I was given strict orders to protect you at all costs, even sacrificing my life if need be. That type of protection is only given to the highest ranking Road Runners, mainly the Commanders. They never told me directly that you’re in consideration for the job, but the protection order speaks for itself.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“What do you mean? You run for Commander, win that election, and lead this organization. There’s nothing else to do.”
Gerald spoke of the situation as if it were a no-brainer type of decision. Was Martin the only person who didn’t see himself as a Commander? Sometimes people perceive you in a way that you never thought possible. But that doesn’t make them right.
“Look, Martin, I can’t tell you what to do. But if there are people higher up who believe you’re fit for the job, then you’re fit for the job. It’s that simple. We’ve never even had a questionable candidate run for the position. There have been some with agendas we don’t agree with, but never someone who we would ever question their ability to lead us toward an end to this war. You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”
Everyone keeps saying that.
Martin didn’t respond, opting to gaze out the window as his unfamiliar hometown passed by in a blur. It seemed he didn’t even have a say in the matter. When he arrived back to 2019, someone within the Road Runners’ organization would be waiting with plans for him to run for Commander, and he still didn’t know why.
Gerald whistled a tune while they drove, clearly wanting Martin to have the moment to allow the reality of both the past and future to settle. When they pulled up to the hotel ten minutes later, Gerald spoke.
“Martin, one thing I want to be clear is that you’re never alone when you’re a Road Runner. Even if you’re somebody like myself or Ralph. We may physically live by ourselves, but we’re not alone. Thousands of Road Runners are ready to support and help with anything. Even more so when you enter a leadership position.”
“Then why is Strike gone?” Martin asked coldly.
“Strike is gone because of her own recklessness. She should have gone home. But it shouldn’t have been that easy for Chris to get to her, either. Something isn’t adding up.”
“And that’s the position you expect me to welcome with open arms?”
“Nothing is guaranteed. You can’t be forced into the position—it’s an election, and you’re not even well known around the community. At this point, I’d say you’re a dark horse. Now, let’s go inside and prepare to leave this place before we all end up dead.”
Gerald killed the engine and stepped out of the van without another word. Martin followed him into the building and to their suite, where Brigham stood against the wall, sweat glistening on his skin, and four suitcases lined in front of him.
“I hope you guys don’t mind,” he said. “I packed all of your bags after I finished mine. I’ve had so much nervous energy all morning, I had to put it to use. I still feel like I could go on a 20 mile run and not bat an eye.” Brigham spoke rapidly, like a teenage girl filling in her friends on the recent gossip from the high school hallways. “Let’s just say I’m ready to go home. I almost drank my Juice and left a note for you, but I know that’s not the way we do things.”
He giggled at this last statement, like it had been an inside joke with himself.
“Well, thank you,” Gerald said, stepping up to grab his bag. “I’m just gonna do a quick sweep of my room to make sure nothing got missed. Martin you should do the same.”
“I’ve checked five times already,” Brigham said. “But be my guest.” He held out his arm toward Gerald’s room, grinning madly at Martin, who returned a quick smile before turning to his room.
His bedroom was immaculate as he checked in the closet and under the bed for any straggling items. They had only been here a whole two days, so it was by no means an impossible task to have a clean sweep do
ne within a few seconds.
Martin checked Web’s room, also clear of any belongings, and wondered if packing up Web’s things sent Brigham into the mental breakdown he seemed to be currently fighting. All three of them were still on edge about the situation, but Brigham had survived it, and had to listen to his friend get murdered in the living room. Brigham might never be the same, and Martin hoped the Road Runners had an extensive mental health team to help him recover from this tragedy.
Martin returned to the living room where Brigham had pulled the suitcases to the front door.
“I guess we’re ready to go. Thank you for packing everything,” Gerald said.
“Glad to help. It’s the least I can do while you two are out saving the world. Did we get the medicine? I almost forgot that’s what we came for.”
“We have the medicine,” Martin said, never releasing his death grip from the paper bag. “Our mission here is complete. Let’s go home.”
Brigham smiled like a surprised child and pulled open the front door. Martin expected something to go wrong. Sonya had handed over the medicine with no hesitation, and Gerald’s voice kept shouting in his head that it was all a set up. Surely she had set him up to send an army of Revolters to their doorstep before they tried to leave.
But no one waited in the hallway as they made their way to the van and loaded the suitcases in the trunk. No guns fired as they pulled out of the parking lot. No bombs exploded as they turned onto the highway and headed east to the plains where they had arrived only two days earlier.
Martin leaned back in his seat, staring at the blue sky passing above as the rest of the world seemed to vanish into the background of his thoughts. His mind raced as quickly as the van blazing down I-70.
The truth he had longed for—and didn’t know he’d learn on this trip—became clear. Sonya gave him the medicine with no strings attached, no hidden agenda. Even if she didn’t say it, or couldn’t feel it, Martin knew that she loved him. And as they returned home to 2019, where a new chapter waited in his chaotic life as a Road Runner, the thought warmed his soul and provided him a fresh boost in confidence for whatever came next.
124
Chapter 31
Strike had a bit more strength the next morning. She managed to roll from side to side, but trying to pull herself up sent biting waves of pain from her abdomen to her neck.
Falling asleep the night before hadn’t been too difficult, as she started snoring twenty minutes after Chris left her alone with Julian’s corpse. Her mind and body were drained, having zero energy to even consider staying awake. They must have carried Julian out in the middle of the night, for he was gone by the morning when she woke up refreshed and mentally energetic.
The mansion had a relaxing mood about it, something she’d never admit. The couch, wide and soft, swallowed her in its comfort. The room temperature held at a consistent 72 degrees, perfect to sleep without a blanket. And lastly, all worries seemed to vanish overnight. She knew she was trapped in Chris’s lair, a prisoner who would likely die in this same mansion, but none of that concerned her. Could Chris be pumping a sort of relaxant through the vents? It was possible, especially considering he was immune to just about everything as an immortal being. That could be why his soldiers obeyed him like desperate puppies.
Don’t fall for any of his bullshit, she reminded herself. Years of studying Chris had led her to know that whenever the old bastard did any act of kindness, it was always motivated by slimy intent. She thought this as soon as the aroma of bacon, eggs, and waffles carried into the room. Footsteps followed shortly behind, before Chris swung the door open with a tray held in one skinny arm.
“Rise and shine, Commander,” he greeted, both chipper and psychotic. “I’ve learned some exciting news this morning, and I couldn’t wait to share it with you.”
She tried willing herself to sit up, but only managed to roll onto her back with a drawn-out groan.
“What is it, Chris?” she asked, trying to sound uninterested despite the curiosity bubbling beneath her surface.
He placed the tray of food on his desk, clapped his hands, and skipped across the room, planting himself in the seat opposite the couch. “It appears my dearest Sonya has sided with Martin Briar. I’ve had my people following her since she moved to her newest location and she just happened to cross paths with Mr. Briar—total coincidence, from what we can tell—and has aided him.”
Without him saying it, Strike knew what this all meant. She had authorized Martin’s mission to go to 2064 for the Alzheimer’s cure. What else would Sonya have aided him in doing?
“Why is this news? I’m here and can’t do anything about it.”
“I just thought you’d like to know since these are people you’ve been heavily invested in. They’re still out there carrying on their lives. I don’t suppose either of them even know about your disappearance, since they’ve been frolicking about in the future. How does that make you feel?”
He was clearly trying to bait her into a reaction, perhaps trying to set the tone for a rough day. But fuck him.
“It makes me proud to know that my Road Runners still care for each other and are willing to help each other. Even in the ugliest of places.”
“Interesting take. It makes me quite disgusted, frankly. My own daughter betrayed my trust—”
“She hates you, you know. Wishes you would die without her having to die. She worked around the clock for two years trying to find a way to release this curse you’ve placed on her. You drove your own daughter to the brink of suicide, and you’re the one disgusted?”
“Don’t flatter me with these pity stories, Commander.” Chris grinned as he slid a balled fist under his chin. “I made my daughter an offer to live under my protection, in a situation where she still didn’t have to encounter me, and this is how she thanks me. It’s a stab in the back.”
“Like when you stabbed her mother in the back.” Strike may have been relaxed, but her mind was quick and locked in, ready to dance with the devil.
“Ahhh, more nonsense to try and rattle me. It will never work.”
“It’ll work one day. We may not be able to get to you with words, but you’ve made enough people in this world furious. One day someone is going to wipe that stupid grin off your face and remove you from this world like the scum you are.”
“Commander.” Chris grinned even wider. “Please stop it, you’re arousing me.”
“You’re sick. What is it you want from me?”
“Since we’re growing our relationship and being so honest with each other, I suppose I can tell you. Martin has gotten away with too much. Yes, it’s my mistake for not throwing him in the basement like I wanted—sometimes you gotta trust your instincts, right? I trusted him by giving him freedom within the mansion and on the property. You have to understand, from my point of view, he appeared ready to commit his life to the Revolution. He was either really smart and outplayed me, or too naive to know better. I say the latter, but it doesn’t matter at this point.”
“Get to the point, then.”
“The point is he betrayed my trust. Used it against me for his own gain. Now, I’m equally as pissed at Sonya, but I can’t do anything to her for obvious reasons. With Mr. Briar, though, I can make the next move in the war, and it won’t be pretty. A violation of one of our unwritten rules, you could say.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Strike snapped, and this time she was able to sit up a couple of inches before falling back into the couch.
“I absolutely dare, and I will. It’s time to send a message, and I thought you should be the first to know, since there’s nothing you can do about it from that couch. Do you care to watch, or shall I just fill you in on the juicy details when it’s done?”
“You’re sick. If you do this, we’ll have no choice but to bomb the living hell out of every one of your hideouts.”
“The only person with the balls to send the bombs was lying in this room with you last night. Where is he toda
y?”
“You’re a coward.”
“Not the first time I’ve been called that, and not the last I’m sure.” Chris giggled as he stood up. “I’ve brought you breakfast. Our cooks are some of the best. I’ll send someone up to feed you.”
“I’d rather starve to death than live another day in your shithole world.”
“Well, I don’t want you to die, Commander. If you refuse to eat, we’ll just give you a new treatment in the electric chair and then force a tube into your stomach. Please don’t make me do that, and just eat your breakfast like a good girl.”
Condescending piece of shit, Strike thought, mentally lunging from the couch and squeezing the life out of the old man’s throat.
Chris crossed the room to the door and turned around. “Don’t worry, Commander. You and I will enjoy a front row seat to the madness. I gotta run, though – need to make sure everything has been settled for Martin’s homecoming. Would hate to see his optimism run any higher than it already is.”
He turned back and left the room, sure to slam the door shut behind him.
Strike thought she heard howling laughter coming from the hallway, but it might have been her imagination. Either way, she knew what Chris planned to do without him even saying it, and the thought disturbed her to the core as she lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.
Please don’t let him do this.
125
Chapter 32
Martin woke up in 2019, his mind foggy and begging for actual sleep. They were still in the van, back in Watkins, in the middle of an open field beside a frontage road. Gerald mumbled, still coming to, and Brigham sat stiffly in the back seat, eyes bulging, grateful to be alive and far away from the year 2064.
While Gerald shook himself awake, Martin scanned the area, still half-expecting a group of Revolters waiting to execute them. “Coast is clear,” he said, the spike of tension fading away.
Wealth of Time Series Boxset Page 74
