Winston fought down the urge to argue. He had to stay focused. The only thing that mattered was getting Bernie back to the present.
Winston began to edge toward the doorway, keeping both eyes on the exit while staying aware of places he could quickly duck and hide. His sneakers made no sound on the cement floor, but he was all too aware of how he must stand out in his dark clothing flanked on several sides by shadows that moved with him, cast by the overhead lights.
Winston reached the doorway. Careful to hold his body against the wall, he peeked around the metal doorframe and found himself at the end of a long hallway. The floor was made of the same textured concrete, the walls and ceiling of the same roughly carved stone. Regularly spaced lights dangled from thick cords, and other hallways branched off at random intervals. Winston had the uncomfortable image of being at the bottom of a three-dimensional labyrinth from which he might never find his way out. He had no bread crumbs, no string, and nothing but cryptic statements and half-hearted assistance from those who should be doing everything to help him save the world.
That gave Winston pause.
Winston rolled his eyes and fought down the urge to thump his head against the wall. He was starting to wonder if coming after Bernie had been the best plan, after all. If the alien wasn’t willing to give him answers, would he help rescue his mom and Shade in 2013? For that matter, would he come forward into the future at all?
Winston glanced back into the warehouse and considered the tall wooden ladder still propped against the wall. He could return into the caves, try to race through the carbon monoxide pool while holding his breath, get back to the surface, and come up with another plan.
Or…
Or maybe he just needed to be a little less predictable.
Winston took a deep breath and stepped into the empty hallway. No matter how much Bernie might reassure him, Winston couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was about to come around one of those corners any second. It was too empty, too quiet. He quickly tiptoed down the hallway and paused at the first branching to the right before doing a second-long peek around the corner. He saw green-painted walls along a corridor with wooden doors, each bearing its own small sign. He zipped past this and did the same routine at the next intersection. This corridor featured yellow walls, which seemed more inviting. With no one in sight, Winston allowed himself a longer look. The signs on the two nearest doors read “Y-23 HYDRO” and “Y-22 MECH.”
said Bernie.
Inside, he felt anything but natural. Nothing about this was natural. And the more Bernie helped him, the more Winston was starting to feel like a puppet. Time to be spontaneous.
He pictured his mother’s face as they had locked eyes only moments ago, and, as he walked down the yellow hallway, he tried to reach out to her with his mind. Dimly, almost like the buzz of an insect across the room, he heard his tinnitus begin in his right ear. It rose to a steady hum but did not exert its usual pressure. After a few seconds, the hum quieted and he heard a woman’s voice in his mind.
14
Impulsively Meeting Amanda
It took every bit of self-discipline Winston could muster to keep walking at his normal pace and not outwardly betray how he felt. Without having a person before him who looked visibly younger than the mother he knew, the voice in his head could have been the same person he’d seen staring after him as he fell from the airplane. The memory of that explosion, of the cockpit windows blowing out and black smoke billowing in a long, downward-arcing trail, tore another small fissure in Winston’s heart.
And yet…here she was. Not some recording or phantom. The real Amanda — in 1948.
His first instinct was to create a story. He was from another lab. He was a different alien. He was collaborating with Bernie in secret.
No sooner did the possibilities flash through his mind than Winston discarded them. They all sounded equally ridiculous. And besides…he never lied to his mother about stuff that mattered. After a lifetime of the two of them only having each other to rely on, he wasn’t about to break that rule now, even if she wasn’t aware of it yet.
In the following silence, Winston wanted to stop and focus entirely on her. Did she believe him? Was she already calling security — or Bernie?
Winston saw the stairway entrance and slowed. He needed more time to talk with his mom.
More like extra poky. He switched back to his mother.
And there she was — the mother he knew so well. Straight from being dazed to all business in half a second flat.
Winston gripped the stairwell door handle and gently turned it. He heard the mechanism click and pop within the lock, but it turned easily. He held the door open and listened, both for practical safety as well as to buy himself another few seconds. He still wasn’t sure how much to tell her.
That didn’t take long, Winston thought to himself.
Winston had arrived at the second landing and now stood before another wooden door bearing the characters S6 in large red stencils. He pressed his ear to it and listened.
Winston couldn’t hear her gasp, but he felt the sensation of it in the back of his awareness.
she asked slowly.
And that’s not even the beginning of what you’ll give up, Winston thought.
He heard a thump and felt a slight vibration through the door. This was followed by a short, dull rasping noise, and Winston guessed that someone nearby was scooting an object across the floor, most likely a chair. If this was the sentry posted in the hallway, he’d likely just stood up.
Winston switched to Bernie.
Winston was careful to pick his mother’s frequency.
Winston froze, aware that it had not taken long at all for him to accidentally communicate on the wrong channel. He desperately tried to review the last few exchanges, wondering if he had already revealed his break from Bernie’s plan to the alien, and found himself unable to piece together if he had done so.
Winston switched frequencies to Bernie.
He switched back.
he said to Amanda.
Winston pulled his ear away from the wall, trying to think clearly. If his plan had always been to link up with Bernie, then going to his mother first should be completely off script. That would shake things up. Perhaps it would make Bernie nervous enough to stop playing games with him and—
His eyes flicked to the red characters.
Winston didn’t want to move. If anything, he wanted to sink down in the stairwell corner and take a ten-minute power nap.
That impulse vanished when something bumped against the door, almost making him cry out in alarm. An instant later, he heard the unmistakable sound of a man yawning.
Slowly, the door handle turned and the door opened. Winston hugged the wall beside the door hinge. Through the crack between door and doorframe, he spied a green uniform, pale hand, and the long, brown shape of a rifle.
Winston held his breath.
“Is anybody here?” called Amanda, still some distance away.
The soldier froze.
“Hello?” she called again, and now Winston could hear the sound of distant but rapidly approaching footsteps.
The soldier began to back up, pulling the door closed with him.
Just before the door closed, the sound of Amanda’s footsteps grew clearer, and Winston guessed that she’d just rounded the corner into this hall.
“Miss Dabrowski,” said the soldier. He sounded young. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, footsteps slowing. “I…I put in a call for maintenance, but no one has come. Have you seen anyone?”
“Maintenance? But it’s the middle of the night.”
Her footsteps stopped. Winston guessed she was at least ten feet away.
“Yes, private, I’m aware of that, thank you.”
“And it can’t wait?”
“I keep smelling ozone in my office, and every so often I catch sight of a spark from one of my electrical outlets.”
“Huh,” said the soldier. “May be a short.”
“Exactly. That’s why I called maintenance. It’s urgent. I have a report due, and I can’t concentrate if I’m sitting there waiting for my office to catch on fire.”
“That’s understandable, ma’am. But I haven’t seen anyone from maintenance tonight.”
“Well…shoot.”
Winston wondered if he should try to retreat down the stairs. One audible slip, though, and he was toast.
“Would you be able to take a look at it?” she asked.
“My patrol is along Research wing, ma’am. I can’t—”
“That’s perfect!” she interjected. “You obviously have a decent understanding of electrical matters, right?”
“Well…” The soldier hesitated, then said, “I guess so, yes.”
“My office is on your patrol route.” Her tone softened slightly. “Just one minute to peek at the wiring, I promise. Please. To set my mind at ease.”
Winston shook his head. Man, she was good.
The soldier gave a small chuckle and said, “Since it’s on my route, sure. A quick look won’t hurt anything.”
“Thank you so much.”
Their footsteps moved away from the door and grew fainter. Winston allowed himself a sigh of relief.
Winston rested his hand on the doorknob and tightened his grip.
***
Winston was nearly spotted twice. With the first one, Amanda saved him from discovery when she spotted a janitor rounding up trash from a laboratory that Winston had to pass. Her warning let him make sure to wait until the janitor moved deeper into the room before he passed its doorway. With the second, someone approached from the opposite direction as Amanda, so she couldn’t warn him. He only had a moment to hear the footsteps and duck into the first open office — there to find a man asleep at his desk, desk lamp still on, a small pool of dark drool staining the papers under his mouth. Winston kept out of sight beside the door until the other party moved away, then stealthily retreated to continue following his mom.
When he finally reached the room she indicated, Winston ducked inside and quietly closed the door behind him, as he could hear her and the soldier talking close by. He turned and paused as he took in the scene. He had expected the usual sort of office he saw at school — half the size of a bedroom, a sma
ll desk, a smattering of artwork on the walls, and an overall lack of anything resembling character, much as the sleeping worker’s had been. This room had to be at least twenty paces long and ten wide, and the reason the walls lacked artwork was because they were blanketed from floor to ceiling with books. Four stout oaken desks dominated the room’s center, and half a dozen tall chalkboards, each mounted on wheeled stands, stood scattered around the chamber, all bearing densely packed formulas and scrawled notes. The place immediately reminded Winston of the basement of Multnomah Central Library, only Winston didn’t detect dust here, only the warm, dusky smell of old books — untold millions of pages, many of them in faded leather jackets — mingled with the stone walls. It was like a crypt for learning, and Winston felt his heart swell with pride that this was the sort of place where his mother worked. She didn’t belong in a cheesy diner, after all.
He waited patiently. Once they found a screwdriver and a flashlight, the soldier confirmed that he could see nothing wrong with Amanda’s electrical outlet. She sounded relieved, flattered him a bit more, and sent him back to his rounds. A moment later, she ducked into the room and closed the door behind her, eyes wide and expectant. She opened her mouth to speak, but Bernie intruded into both of their minds.
There was no time to waste.
“Mom,” Winston whispered. “Amanda. I came here for Bernie. I thought he was the only one who could help me in the future. Because—” He fumbled, then decided to play things safe. “Because my friends die. And I need help.”
Amanda leaned against one of the desks and set a hand atop its typewriter to steady herself.
“I came here looking for Bernie, but the more I hear from him, the more I think that might not be the right way. Apparently, I’ve done this a lot of times before. So, I’m wondering if maybe I needed to come here for you.”
Winston Chase and the Omega Mesh Page 10
