Extracted

by Tyler H. Jolley & Sherry D. Ficklin

  LEX

  When I come to, I find myself in a smoke-filled room that immediately makes me cough. I am facedown, and I must have thrown up from a coughing fit while I was unconscious, because my cheek is wet and covered with my previously half-digested dinner. I quickly wipe off my mouth with my sleeve.

  I see the palm of a hand visible through the thick smoke. My senses are coming back. I slowly reach my hand toward the palm. Who does it belong to? Where are we? Did we close the vortex? All I can feel is that something is really wrong. Suddenly, the hand closes around my index and middle fingers, and then a face emerges through the smoke.

  “Lex!” Nobel says, sounding tired but relieved.

  “Something is wrong,” I say, shaking my head. “Where are we?”

  Nobel says nothing as he looks me over for injuries.

  “We need to find the others,” I tell him, trying to urge his focus away from me. I’m fine. It’s everyone else I’m worried about.

  I sit up and see that we are just inside the door to the Tower. Smoke is billowing past us like dragon’s breath.

  “Where are Stein and Ember?”

  Nobel points into the room. “They must be inside somewhere.”

  Peeling off my vest, I tie it around my face. We walk through the smoke-filled room with our hands stretched out like a pair of zombies.

  We haven’t walked very far before I trip over something. I fall forward, landing on a couch. Reaching down, I bring the object closer to my face.

  “Aahh!” It’s half of a Gear Head. I toss it aside like a dead rat. “Ember, Ethan, Stein!” I yell into the smoky room. Have I lost them? This can’t be happening. I call out again.

  “Over here,” Stein calls back. “Ember’s sick.”

  We shuffle in the general direction of her voice. The metal foot of my fake leg clanks against another Gear Head as we walk. The gears still aren’t working, so with every step, I have to hobble my leg into position.

  “Call out again,” Nobel hollers.

  “We’re over here.” It is Ethan this time. I exhale. At least they’re all alive.

  After what seems like ten minutes of navigating through the dense smoke, we finally make it to the group. Stein is bent over Ember, stroking her hair, and Ethan is looking down at both of them, his face pale and waxy. Ember is breathing, but when she looks up at me, I notice her eyes are bloodshot. She is sweating and clutching her stomach in the fetal position.

  “Ember,” Ethan soothes, “Lex is here now.”

  “Lex, I don’t think those rifting pills sit well with me,” she says, squeezing her eyes closed.

  “It can take some getting used to,” Nobel tells her. “Ethan, are you feeling okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” Ethan says, but I can tell he’s lying. Judging by the shade of green he’s turning, he’s barely keeping his stomach. I remembered the feeling all too well. Sick as a dog but too proud to let the girl see you sweat.

  “Are you going to be able to make it out?”

  “I think so,” she answers weakly.

  I crouch down. The smoke is a lot less dense near the floor. Everyone else follows suit and crouches down. Ethan helps Ember to her knees, holding her around the waist until he’s sure she isn’t going to fall. We crawl along the floor of the smoke-laden room until we find a wall, then we follow that to a hallway.

  “Do you recognize this hallway?” Stein asks, crawling up beside me.

  “No, I don’t even know where we are.”

  She reaches up into the smoke cloud that’s above us and rips something off the wall.

  “Recognize this?”

  Stein holds out a piece of the velvet wallpaper that lines the hallway toward Gloves’ office. I recognize it. And Nobel recognizes it. We’ve walked down this hallway many times. I’ve always traced my finger along the paisley-velvet wallpaper when we’re here, trying to connect the lines without removing my finger.

  “Are we near Gloves’ office?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

  “I think we are,” Stein answers. “We need to see if there’s anyone still alive in there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Stein and Nobel exchange a glance.

  “When we rifted back, there were some… bodies on the lawn. It looked like an attack,” Nobel says softly.

  I stop, unable to believe my ears. “Who?” I ask, my voice shaking.

  “Two of ours and one Ember identified as theirs.”

  I want to ask more, to demand names, but now isn’t the time. If anyone is still alive in here, we need to get them out. Now. We pass by what was Gloves’ door. The office has been burned to a crisp. The door is lying off its hinges, and its wood is blackened and blistered, charcoaled beyond belief. But there are no remains.

  I turn to Ethan. “We need to get everyone out of here.” When he nods, I crawl through the wreckage without hesitation, grab a burnt piece of door wood, and use it to break the window. The old glass shatters on the first blow. I then hack away at the jagged edges so we can crawl out without getting cut.

  We are able to scale our way down the side of the old stone building. Most of the rock that was quarried on site to build this tower is now covered in a green carpet of moss.

  After carefully navigating each handhold and foothold, we finally jump into the out-of-control Pfitzer juniper that has been unkempt for many years. Fortunately, they provide a soft landing. The hardest part is trying to claw our way out.

  Once we orient ourselves, the sight before us is unbelievable. The Tower is no longer erect. The top three-fourths is severed and tumbled back. Flames surround the stump of what remains. It reminds me of a candle left to burn out overnight. To the right of the Tower, there is a massive, armored locomotive that is covered in plants, chunks of earth, and rust. The enormous steel-plated train has clearly moved up an angled track to take down the Tower. I can imagine the train emerging from the ground to bomb the Tower to oblivion.

  We run to the front of the Tower where Ethan appeared just a day ago. Stein stands stoic, looking pale and half in shock, and Ember is throwing up in the bushes. Bruce lies dead at the corner of the building. He has a hole blown in his gut. Even being half man, half kettle pot, he couldn’t withstand the blast. I walk over, kneel down, and close his one good eye.

  Fire has consumed a lot of the dead weeds in the courtyard along with some of the dead bodies. Even though I spent many nights purging my senses of the smell of fiery death, it all comes rushing back so fast that my eyes well up with tears. For a heartbeat, I’m paralyzed by it.

  “No, no, no!” I yell, pressing my fists into my ears. “Not again!”

  My second chance at a family of any kind has been burned up again. I can’t go on. My good leg goes very weak, and I bend over. Am I dying? I’m hyperventilating for sure, and the anxiety has taken hold of my body like a giant Gear Head. My mind is blacking out and my eyes won’t seem to open.

  I don’t want to go. I don’t want to pass out. Don’t want to die. I will not lose it. Not here. Not today. Today, these people need me. I am the leader. I am a Hollow. A burst of adrenaline surges through my body. My eyes shoot open, and my breathing becomes deep and controlled. I lift my chin to the sky.

  I am a HOLLOW.

  My brows furrow as fury surges through my veins. I stand up and take stock of the situation before me. Big mammoth train over there, dead bodies in the courtyard, and the Tower on fire. My hand slips into my pocket, searching for the bottle caps, but they are gone. My jaw muscles clench and I close my eyes, forcing myself to step back, to observe without emotion. My heart quickens when I see Sisson standing in the distance. She is darting from body to body to see if anyone is alive. A group of Hollows is bent over another body on the side steps of the Tower. I can tell it’s Gloves. His train chair lays broken on its side, still chugging and chugging. His body is slumped on the stairs to the Tower. I rush to his side.

  “There was a blast and w
e all came out,” Gloves says, trying to tell me what happened despite the small bubbles of blood forming in the corners of his mouth. “Claymore went into hiding so he would be protected. Every Hollow who wasn’t on a mission came out to fight. The Tower fell behind us, and then people started to appear on the outskirts of the courtyard.”

  Gloves eyes fall closed as he coughs up blood. His white beard is already stained crimson from the bloody spittle.

  “It was Tesla,” he says finally.

  “They found us,” I say.

  Gloves continues. “We weren’t ready. That train emerged from under the ground fully loaded. The artillery was too much. We couldn’t hold them off. We didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Where is Claymore?” I ask.

  “He…” Gloves starts but is interrupted with a fit of bloody coughing. “He went to a safe house. Stills got him out as soon as the fighting started.”

  Gloves’ eyes flutter closed before flinging open.

  “Stills!” he growls.

  We look around, as we’ve been so focused on Gloves that we didn’t realize that a large man had joined our concerned group. Ember and Ethan gasp. Stewart Stills doesn’t have a face. All that sits atop his shoulders is a brass dome with two black portals for eyes. He looks like a bedpost knob with two hollow eye sockets. He doesn’t hesitate. After reaching up, he extracts a speaker from the side of his head. Steam hisses out.

  Is he going to deflate? I wonder.

  The flat speaker is attached to four wires that stay connected to the so-called ear. Like manipulating a toy transformer, he disengages the round speaker into four distinct parts, handing the small pieces to Ember, Gloves, Stein, and me. The small pieces remind me of tiny black bits of tar hooked to wires.

  “Hold them…” Gloves says with a rattling wheeze, “up to your ear.”

  Almost in unison, we take the wedge pieces and hold them to our ears. Stein kneels beside Nobel, sharing her speaker with him.

  “Good afternoon,” Stills says in a very rich British accent. “I am Stewart Stills. Consider me the property manager of secret loops in the time stream.”

  “You can respond any time,” Gloves says, coughing again. He isn’t looking good.

  “I rifted back here because we are in quite a quandary. The Tesla Institute has waged war against us. We have lost many good Rifters, and now we are losing Gloves as well.”

  “Is Claymore with you?” I ask.

  “He is at the main safe house in 1986 Los Angeles right now. We are trying to adapt a helmet like mine for him. We require Nobel’s assistance.”

  Gloves coughs again, this time spewing droplets of blood on the side of Stein’s face. She doesn’t move.

  “Lex,” Gloves says, looking at me. “It is very important to fix this.”

  “Me?” Fix this? How could this ever be fixed? How could the world ever be right again?

  “Yes, I am going to commission you on one last assignment.”

  “Okay, Gloves, anything,” I say, hoping his plan includes some serious payback.

  “The Dox didn’t work,” he says. I nod. “The tear remains open and chaos has completely consumed the time stream.”

  He coughs again. His breathing is becoming more labored. His eyes flutter closed for a moment too long.

  “Gloves!” Ember yells, and he blinks.

  “Lex, you need to rift to Tesla’s lab in New York in 1898 and get the original Dox. It is your last chance to set things right. That is your last mission from me.” The words rush out in one long, rattling breath. The blood drains from his face.

  “No, Gloves, It won’t work. We need directions or something. How do we use the Dox?”

  “Notes. Tesla will have notes. Find them.” He coughs and winces in pain. “They were looking for you. He said—” Gloves coughs again. “Flynn said you’d never get it to work without the key.” He opens his hand, his fingers going limp. In his palm is a pile of green pills. The last of the Contra, or rather, whatever didn’t burn in the fire. Also in his hand is the Amber Room beetle.

  Gloves’ eyes close, and his chair slowly stops chugging. I put my head down and fight back the tears. Behind me, Stein rubs my back in slow circles. I grab the pile of Contra and the beetle from Gloves’ hand and stand up, wiping the moisture from my eyes before anyone can see it.

  Stills kneels down and closes Gloves’ eyes. He then taps on the side of his polished brass dome. We respond by putting the small black speakers back up to our ears.

  “We need you to complete this last mission,” Stills says. “There is a key, a missing piece to making the Dox work properly.”

  “A key?” Ethan shouts, pulling his hands through his hair. “Are you kidding me? How did you miss that?” He looks at me angrily. I step forward, more than happy to go a few rounds with him right now, but Ember pushes between us.

  “What key?” she asks. “What does it look like?”

  Stills describes it and Ember turns, putting a hand on Ethan’s chest.

  “It’s my key. First key.”

  Stills holds out his brass-gloved hand.

  “I don’t have it. I didn’t bring it with me,” she responds, biting down on her lip. “But I know where it is. I gave it to Flynn.”

  She frowns.

  “No problem, Ember,” Ethan soothes. “We will just go back to the Institute and get it. We can go back the day after the Trials, when everyone is taking the oath. I’ll ransack Flynn’s room and—”

  She cuts him off. “No. It won’t be there. I didn’t give it to that Flynn. I gave it to a Flynn from a different timeline.”

  We all stare at her stupidly for a minute. She rolls her eyes. “Oh. This is going to be bad.”

  I grab her arm. “Do you know where the key is or not?”

  She nods. “I used it to create a fixed loop. I don’t know if we can get it. Everything inside a fixed loop is sealed.”

  Stills cuts in. “Has there ever, in your memory, been a time when your key was missing?”

  She pauses, tilting her head to the side. “Yeah. A few months ago. I thought I’d lost it, but I found it under my bed a few days later. I figured it fell off the wall somehow.”

  Stills nods. “That is your window. Take the key during that time and return it when you have used it. It will preserve the Fixed Point.”

  “Can we do that?” I ask. Following his logic feels a lot like banging my head into a brick wall.

  It’s Stein who answers. “I guess we’ll know soon enough. Either someone already stole the key once and it’s part of the Fixed Point, or we’ll get our butts bounced back to next Tuesday when we try for it. Either way, it’s our only shot.”

  “Let’s do it then,” I jump in, ready to go.

  “What are the risks?” Ember asks Stills quietly.

  “Honestly, it’s hard to say. But it still has to happen.”

  She swallows hard and takes a step back.

  “I’ll go with you, Ember,” Ethan says, holding her hand.

  “Um, no, I don’t think so,” I say. “No offense and all, but there’s no way I’m letting her out of my sight. I’ll go with her.”

  “Really?” Stein adds. “You’ll go with her? And I’ll do what? Stay here and make you a sandwich?”

  “She’s right. You should go with your girlfriend, keep her safe. I can go with Ember and do the same,” Ethan says.

  If there was a stupid comment cow pie on the burnt grass of the courtyard, Ethan just stepped in it.

  “Keep me safe?” Stein challenges.

  Ember folds her arms over her chest and moves to Stein’s side. “In case you’ve forgotten, I stabbed you in the leg the first time we sparred, and I wasn’t even trying then. You wanna give it a whirl right now? Then we’ll see which of us needs protection.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Just that—” Ethan says.

  I nudge him. “Shut up.”

  Stein glares at me. “Why don�
��t we do this, tough guys? Ember shouldn’t go back into her own timeline. I think there have been enough potentially world-ending hijinks for one week, don’t you? She and I will go together to get the Dox and you boys can go protect each other,” she says. “Unless, of course, you don’t trust us to go without male supervision?”

  It’s a trap. Some kind of weird secret girl code. Ethan sputters.

  “Good job, Ethan,” I hiss.

  Reluctantly, I hand them their Contra.

  “You boys can go get the key, if you think you can handle that?” With that, Stein and Ember hand their speakers back to Stewart Stills and walk away.

  Ethan has the dumbest look on his face—like he just had an accident in his pants. Ember turns and shouts to him, “Three months ago, the day I almost broke your leg in sparring practice? That’s the day I noticed it missing. It’s in my room.”

  He nods.

  I hand my speaker back to Stills and thank him. He reconstructs the earpiece and inserts it back into the socket.

  Nobel is in the corner of the courtyard, cradling somebody. I can just make out singed, frizzy red hair. Journey. He sobs into her limp body. I’ve never seen him show emotion like that before. It’s a nightmare. My mind reels. If we can get the other Dox and the key, maybe none of this will ever happen. Maybe everything will be set right. I hold on to the hope.

  Ethan and I make our way over to where Stein and Ember are standing by with Nobel. Ember has her hand over her mouth, and Sisson is talking to her. The way she is moving her arms, I can tell she is recounting what happened to Ember, who still looks unnervingly fragile. Normally, I’d ask Nobel to watch my back, especially on this, my last mission for the Hollows, with a guy I’m not sure I trust. But looking at him, I decide to leave Nobel to mourn the girl he secretly loved.

  I approach the others.

  “We have our missions,” I say, holding out my hand. The green pills are soiled with soot from my hands. Ethan grabs his. “Good luck, everybody.”

  “Lex, maybe you should stay with Nobel,” Stein says, leaning in to hug me good-bye. “Ethan can get the key.”

  It’s a tempting idea. But then I remember my outburst after Stein died and how Nobel had been smart enough to give me the one thing I really needed—space to grieve.

  I shake my head. “We need to fix this, and I’m not sure I trust Ethan enough to let him go alone. At the rate the vortex is growing, it could chew through a full century in a matter of days. We don’t have time to waste.”

  “I’ll stay,” Sisson offers, her face smeared with coal dust and tears. I want to reach out to her, to offer some comfort, but I don’t. I’m not sure why.

  Ethan puts his arm around her small shoulders and offers her a squeeze, earning him somewhat reluctant points from me. When he holds his other hand out for my sister, she takes it without hesitation.

  “Who are the other bodies, the ones from your group?” Stein asks.

  “Mistress Catherine,” Ethan answers. “She was one of our teachers.”

  Ember shudders and he squeezes her. “And that’s Trace and Connor. The other one is Doctor Kevlotrotsky.”

  “Well,” Stein winds her fingers into my empty hand, “what are we waiting for?”

  I can’t help the feeling of lightness spreading in my chest, even though I know it’s not the right time to be feeling it. Something about feeling Stein’s hand in mine again makes all the bad stuff seem… survivable.

  Nobel stands erect. “Before you go, we need to bury them. They deserve that.”

  He’s right. Time is not on our side, but we can’t just leave him and Sisson to do it alone. I look to Ethan, who nods.

  Most of the fires have died down or gone out. The smoke from the burnt tower and the smoldering bodies leave the courtyard shrouded in an eerie haze. It’s like a cemetery’s had all its bodies dug up and sprawled everywhere.

  “Let’s make a cemetery in the front corner,” Nobel says, pointing to the spot in the courtyard. He wipes his nose and flicks the tears from his face like they are pesky gnats. “We should put the fallen Tesla people in there too,” Stein says. She looks over to Ember. “They were all on the same side, once. Whatever bitterness separated them, made them enemies… well, maybe we can put that to rest, too.”

  I blink. Part of me wants to burn the ones who did this. But looking at Stein, I can see she’s trying to heal a rift I didn’t realize even existed. The one between Ember and me. We’ve been pulled apart, drafted to opposite sides in a war that wasn’t our own. I can see now that it hurts Ember, having been a part of that for so long. So I agree. Not for them, but for my sister.