by E. C. Myers
Nate pushed Ephraim into the cement of the fountain and ground his back against the rim of the basin. Nate let him go, then jabbed him in the chest with his elbow.
Ephraim groaned. “Is this really what you want? To be like all those kids who beat you up through elementary school? Just another bully?”
Nate punched him in the left cheek, and Ephraim felt the impact vibrate through his skull as his head whipped right.
Nate punched him again on his left ear. Ephraim flopped over.
“I helped you though,” Ephraim choked. “I used to protect you. I bet your Ephraim did too.”
“You always thought you were better than me,” Nate said. “You were worse than they were, because you pretended to be my friend. And then you betrayed me.”
Ephraim opened his eyes.
“I am better than you.” Ephraim spat. Bright-red saliva splashed on Nate's shirt.
Ephraim's vision blurred—he saw two Nates looming over him, indistinct and overlapping. Through the ringing pain he heard distant voices, distorted like he was underwater.
“Wait,” Zoe said. “You might hit Ephraim!”
“Let go!” Mary Shelley said.
“Have you ever fired a gun before?”
“Get out of my way.”
Ephraim clasped an arm to his stomach. Scissors of pain cut through him, and he started to feel nauseous. It was as if this was happening to someone else. He liked it that way. It was happening to another Ephraim. He let himself drift toward unconsciousness. This wasn't his problem anymore…
Another gunshot snapped him out of it. His vision focused, and he forgot the pain for the moment. Nate had frozen with a hand in one of Ephraim's pockets. They both exchanged a frightened glance and scrambled away from each other, then looked over at Mary Shelley and Zoe.
Mary Shelley crouched beside Nathaniel's body, looking more shocked than any of them. “Did I hurt anyone?” she asked. She clenched the smoking gun double-handed, knuckles white. Her chin bled from a cut just below her lip.
“Just yourself,” Zoe said angrily. “That kickback is a bitch, isn't it? Give me that before you actually shoot someone.”
Mary Shelley passed her the gun with a wince, massaging her jaw. Zoe pointed the gun evenly at Nate. “I'm a better shot than she is. You okay, Ephraim?”
“Nothing a week in bed won't fix.” He stood up shakily, aching with every movement. He grinned at her. “Especially with someone cute nursing me back to health.”
“Don't get fresh. I'm holding a gun, you know,” Zoe said.
He put his hands up in mock surrender.
“Now give Ephraim the controller,” Zoe said to Nate. “Slowly.”
Nate didn't move. Ephraim reached into the left pocket of Nate's hoodie to retrieve the device. Nate just glared at him sullenly. He patted Nate down, just in case he was hiding another weapon, and pulled his digital camera out of a back pocket. He joined Zoe and Mary Shelley and knelt to check on Nathaniel. His eyes were closed, and his breathing sounded shallow.
“Nathaniel?” Mary Shelley asked.
Nathaniel's eyelids fluttered, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “It hurts like hell, but I think he missed anything important. I'll probably need some stitches.”
“If he damaged any organs, at least we have a perfect donor,” Mary Shelley said. She glared over at Nate, who was sulking by the fountain.
“Cool it,” Ephraim said.
Nathaniel's eyes flew open. “Ephraim. You got the controller.”
“Yeah.” Ephraim flipped it open, but it didn't switch on. He tried to put it in Nathaniel's left hand, but the man's grip was too feeble to hold it. His right hand was pressed to his side. Blood dripped between the fingers. Ephraim's stomach lurched, and he looked away. He didn't want to watch another friend die like this.
“I don't know if I'm going to be able to fulfill my part of the bargain,” Nathaniel said.
“We'll get you home,” Ephraim said. “Don't you worry.”
Zoe grimaced. “We'll force Nate to help us,” she said.
Nate sat on the edge of the fountain, arms folded and looking at all of them calmly. “I'm not doing shit for you,” he said.
“I'm not giving him the controller again,” Ephraim said. “Not after all this.”
“Then I guess we don't need him for anything,” Mary Shelley said. “Shoot him, Zoe.”
Nate glanced at Mary Shelley, and his expression changed. Softened. “I care about you, M.S.,” he said softly.
“You were obsessed with me. I was just another thing you wanted. But I was never enough.”
Nathaniel groaned. “The biometrics…” He pushed himself up with his jaw clenched, and Mary Shelley bent down to lift his shoulders. Nathaniel coughed and pointed at Zoe. “Give the controller to Jena.” He licked his lips. “Sorry. Zoe.”
Ephraim stared at him. “What?”
“Go on.”
Ephraim shrugged and passed the controller to Zoe. She exchanged it for the gun, which felt like a cold, ugly weight in his palm. It wasn't like the plastic guns he'd played video games with. This gun had actually killed people. He pointed it unsteadily at Nate; the controller in Zoe's hands held most of his attention.
Zoe flipped open the controller, and the screen flashed to life.
“It's working,” she said in amazement.
“Why?” Ephraim asked.
“Our Jena was part of the team, too,” Nathaniel said. “She's the one who came up with the nickname Charon for the device.”
That sounded like Jena, all right.
“You've been holding out on us, old man,” Ephraim said. “Why didn't you share that before?”
Nathaniel raised his eyebrows apologetically. “I worried that…if I told you, you wouldn't need me.”
Zoe put a hand on Ephraim's shoulder. “So she and your Ephraim,” Zoe said. “They explored universes together?”
Nathaniel regarded both of them. “Actually, they never did.”
“So others can use the coin and the controller,” Ephraim said. “How many?”
“I only know of four people—not counting their analogs, of course. But the device can be programmed for any pair of users back at the lab.”
Nate was leaning forward, literally on the edge of his seat, obviously eavesdropping on their conversation.
“Now's clearly not the time to get into this,” Nathaniel said.
“You're right. But I hope you can give me some answers later,” Ephraim said.
Nathaniel groaned. “So do I.”
“What are we going to do?” Zoe said.
Ephraim still had the gun on Nate, but they couldn't keep him hostage forever. “I don't know. We can't kill Nate and we can't let him loose. He's messed up and he won't ever change,” Ephraim said.
“You might be wrong.” Nathaniel said. “I was like him once, maybe even angrier. I'm not proud of it, but I became a better person, largely thanks to the Ephraim I knew.”
Nate laughed again. “You'll never get home without my help, Ephraim. I memorized your home coordinates before I deleted them. I'm the only one who can get you home.”
“Assuming I believe you, I'd already resigned myself to giving up my universe. The place isn't the thing, it's about the people. Universes might be interchangeable, but people aren't. If I never get back home, I could make a good life for myself anywhere,” Ephraim said. He and Zoe made brief eye contact.
“Eph.” Nathaniel rolled his head to the side to look up at him. “Even if the controller doesn't remember your universe, you do. The coin can take you wherever you want to go, especially if it's been there before. You just have to think about it clearly. Follow your instincts.”
“First we have to get you fixed up,” Ephraim said.
“Never mind that. Mary Shelley can help me to a hospital.” She was already calling for an ambulance on her cell phone. “You take care of Nate,” he said.
“You trust us to come back for you?” Ephraim asked.
“I trust you with my life,” Nathaniel said.
“We'll get you home,” Ephraim said. “I wish I knew what to do with Nate, though.” He laughed, realizing what he'd just said.
“Too bad we can't wish him to the cornfield,” Zoe said.
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow.
“Like in that episode of The Twilight Zone,” she explained. “This creepy little kid had the power to control reality with his mind. He sent people to ‘the cornfield’ when he didn't like them. Of course, that was probably just a euphemism for killing them…”
Ephraim snapped his fingers. “Zoe, the cornfield is a great idea. That's exactly what we'll do.”
“Where the hell are we?” Nate asked. He yanked the arm Ephraim was gripping tightly. Ephraim let him go, and Nate scrambled away from him and Zoe.
“A place you haven't explored yet,” Ephraim said. “I know how much you like new places.”
“Hell is right,” Zoe said. “This isn't a cornfield. It's more like a minefield.”
The fountain was gone. The landscape was barren—all the trees had been cut down, and the park was surrounded by miles of high, black chain link fencing. A building was visible in the distance—not the library but some kind of military structure. Green Jeeps rumbled around it, and Ephraim saw two distant helmeted soldiers looking toward them. He and Zoe should probably get out of there soon.
“Is this what you had in mind, Ephraim?” Zoe tucked the controller into the waistband of her denim shorts with her left hand while her right held the gun steady on Nate. He'd have to ask her one day why she was so comfortable with guns. Part of him didn't want to know.
“It's exactly what I had in mind,” Ephraim said. The coin was cooling in his hand. He ran his thumb over the reeded edge.
It had taken him a few minutes to locate the right coordinates among those stored in the controller, but he'd remembered visiting this militaristic universe with Nate after a string of heists in sequential universes, before the trip to the virgin woodland Nate liked. Ephraim had wavered between the two options, but in the end, he'd allowed his feelings to influence his decision. He couldn't justify giving Nate his own personal paradise, no matter how difficult it might be for him to survive there without the use of technology.
“This place is practically post-apocalyptic,” Nate said. “You can't leave me here.” He peeled off his hoodie and tossed it on the ground. The temperature was almost unbearably hot here.
“That's the idea. You won't be able to do any more damage in this universe,” Ephraim said.
“You aren't really going to ditch me here,” Nate said. “That isn't like you, Ephraim. Your analog maybe, but you're different. You're better. Isn't he, Zoe?”
“Don't talk to me,” Zoe said. She pulled back the safety on the gun. “Please, give me an excuse to use this.”
“Zoe,” Ephraim said.
“Oh. Good cop, bad cop. I get it. You're trying to scare me, Ephraim. Fine, I'm scared. Now get us out of here,” Nate said.
Zoe used the toe of her flip-flop to nudge a torn scrap of paper on the ground, half-covered in red dirt. “Look at this,” she said.
It was one of those draft flyers for the US Army, announcing the mandatory recruitment of all able-bodied citizens 16 or older to join the fight against the USSR.
Ephraim picked it up and handed it to Nate. “Here you go, soldier. Now you can kill as much as you want to.”
Nate's face went white when he saw it. “No, Ephraim. You can't do this.”
“You like guns so much, you should love it here,” he said.
“No. Please.” Nate crumpled the flyer. “Listen, just send me back to the universe with the wilderness. The coordinates are in the controller. I know them by heart. I'll stay there, I promise. I won't hurt anyone because there's no one to hurt. I don't deserve this.”
“Don't listen to him, Ephraim,” Zoe cautioned.
Ephraim clenched his jaw. “You're right, Nate. You don't deserve this. You deserve worse. Maybe I shouldn't stop Zoe from shooting you for everything you've done. But we aren't killers.”
“It's the same thing as killing me if you leave me here,” Nate said.
“At least you'll have a fighting chance, and maybe you'll even manage to accomplish some good for once in your life.”
“Look.” Nate licked his lips, his eyes crazed. “I was lying before, about your analog killing his parents. I was with Ephraim when he found them that night, already dead. David Scott killed Madeline, just like the police said. That's why Ephraim took off. He was upset.”
Ephraim stared at Nate. “Of course he didn't kill them. I didn't need proof of his innocence—I know myself and what I'm capable of.”
“Don't be so sure,” Nate said. But his words lacked conviction. He was desperate. “I didn't kill him,” he said softly. “I know you both think I pushed him into traffic, but Ephraim was so distracted, it really was an accident. He told me I was on my own from now on, and not to follow him, and he walked right in front of that bus.”
“Shut up,” Zoe said. Her hand was trembling.
There was suddenly a lot of activity near the compound. A dust cloud moved toward them—three of the Jeeps were fast approaching their end of the field.
“Time to go,” Ephraim said.
Zoe put the gun's safety back on before tucking it into her jeans, then tied Nate's hoodie around her waist to conceal it. She pulled out the controller and flipped it open. Ephraim slid the coin into its groove, and she selected the coordinates for the previous universe. “The scary thing is, if I'm reading these numbers right, the subgroup for this universe isn't too far off from my own,” she whispered.
“We just have to hope this never becomes our reality,” Ephraim said.
“Eph?” Nate whined. He kneeled in the dirt, watching the army Jeeps approach. He didn't look so tough anymore.
Ephraim held up the digital camera he'd confiscated from Nate and flashed a picture of him. “I always want to remember you that way,” Ephraim said.
Nate stared up at him, rage building behind his expressionless face.
Zoe linked her arm securely through Ephraim's and pushed a button on the controller. The coin slowly lifted and hovered.
“Have a good life, Nate,” Zoe said. Then Ephraim took the floating coin.
Nate's wail was cut short when Ephraim and Zoe shifted. But the chilling echo of his despair followed them into the next universe.
They checked on Nathaniel and Mary Shelley at Summerside General. Nathaniel's chest was bandaged and color had returned to his face. He was cleared to leave, though the doctor recommended staying overnight.
“How's Nate?” Nathaniel said.
“How can you still be concerned for him after everything he's done?” Ephraim asked.
“Because he's still me, as much as I hate to admit it.” Nathaniel climbed out of the bed, his face pinched with pain. Mary Shelley helped him stand. “Let's get out of here. This isn't a bad universe though; the health care system is a lot better. They didn't even care that I don't have medical insurance.”
“That could come in handy,” Ephraim said. “I can just pop over when I need an operation.”
Nathaniel eyed him. “So you plan to keep using the coin?”
“I have a few things to make up for, as much as I can. Then…” He shrugged. “Maybe I'll try to get home. After that, I don't know. It's tempting…but that's probably a good reason to get rid of it for good.”
They went back to the library, where they all linked hands outside. Zoe set the coordinates for her home universe, and a moment later they were standing outside the familiar ruined building.
Mary Shelley cleared her throat. “Well, I'm not much for goodbyes. My house is only a few blocks from here, and I'm already late for dinner. So…”
Ephraim hugged her. “Thanks for your help,” he said.
“Sure. You stay out of trouble.” She kissed him on the cheek.
She waved to Nathaniel an
d Zoe, who didn't seem to notice because they had their heads bent over the controller, then walked off down the street.
“We found Nathaniel's home coordinates,” Zoe said. “Right at the top of the list.”
Nathaniel insisted they depart from the center of Greystone Park, so for the last time, the three of them went across the street and gathered in front of the dry and cracked fountain.
“Are you ready to go home?” Ephraim said to Nathaniel. He was curious to see what the future would be like—might be like.
Nathaniel nodded.
Ephraim slotted the coin into the controller. He was envious; it wouldn't be this easy for Ephraim to get home; but of course, he hadn't been waiting years to have the chance.
“I think you should do the honors,” Nathaniel told Zoe.
She took the controller from him and set the coin spinning. When it froze in place, Ephraim held out his arm, and Zoe and Nathaniel gripped it firmly. He deftly plucked the coin from midair.
They appeared inside a large courtyard surrounded on all sides by smooth steel walls rising ten stories high, which roughly outlined the perimeter of the courtyard surrounding the Memorial Fountain. The only exit seemed to be through four wide doors set into each wall, which looked like the massive doors on a bank vault.
“Holy shit,” Zoe said. “Where are we?”
An alarm went off, reverberating through the enclosed courtyard. Nathaniel hurried over to one of the doors and placed his palm against a panel beside it. The alarm stopped, and the door whooshed open. He glanced inside longingly before turning back to them.
“Sorry about that. Uh, welcome to the Everett Institute for Research in Relative States, Wave Mechanics Probability, and Many-Worlds Travel,” Nathaniel said.
“That's a mouthful,” Ephraim said. He tried to make a sensible acronym out of it and failed.
“That's why we usually just refer to it as the Crossroads,” Nathaniel said. “But I call it home, sweet home.”
“You live here?” Ephraim asked. There was a ten-foot-high statue of Atlas in the center of the courtyard, roughly where the fountain should be. The Titan's arms held a vertical ring in which a six-inch-thick brass disc was suspended horizontally. Two other brass rings framed it at different angles.
