Mayor Jada finally smiled at him. Not a warm smile, but she seemed amused. “Stand up,” she said, holding the blot at her side.
“Bertie,” she said to one of her men who was built like a nightclub bouncer. “Either he can’t help us, or he won’t help us. Get rid of him.”
Bertie calmly walked up to Kyle, pulled a knife from a pocket of his dark khaki pants and moved around to Kyle’s side, raising the knife toward his neck. Kyle’s sense of panic grew even greater as Bertie pulled him close.
“Wait,” Kyle said. “I’ll help you. But, you need to understand how dangerous this is.” When it came down to it, he simply wasn’t ready to die to protect the secrets of time weaving.
Bertie held the knife against his throat, as Mayor Jada looked his way again. “Tell me how to do it, Jumper,” she said.
If these twelve people, and possibly more, were able to escape 2060 and go back to some time in the past, there could be horrible repercussions. On the other hand, they could kill Kyle and still figure out how to get through the blot. As soon as someone stuck their hand inside, they’d realize you could pass through it. And, if he were dead, he’d have no chance of being part of any solution to the problem.
“Slide it over you like a shirt,” Kyle said. “You’ll come to a tunnel which will let you go back.” He felt like he was betraying Allaire yet again.
Mayor Jada smiled. She lifted the blot above her and held it there for a moment. “How many can fit?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Kyle answered.
She pulled the blot toward her shaved head. But when she pulled it, the fabric just stretched against her. She tried sticking her hand inside, and it wouldn’t go either. She motioned for some of her partners to come and try, but each tried to enter the blot without any luck. “Time jumper isn’t telling us the truth,” she screamed, throwing the silk blot on the ground.
Kyle was surprised that it didn’t work for her. He’d just come through the same silk blot, so it couldn’t just be the hole. Except that Yalé had thought the blot with the hole was useless too, or seemed to think that anyway. For a brief moment, this seemed like more confirmation that he was special, and supposed to be doing this.
Kyle saw out of the corner of his eye that Bertie was walking back toward him. He took a deep breath. His heart raced. He didn’t want his life to end here. Not before he could face Allaire again. Bertie grabbed at his shoulder, but Kyle ducked lower and drove his shoulder right into Bertie’s chest.
The larger man barely flinched at Kyle’s move and grabbed at him again. By the time Kyle made off with the silk blot that Jada had dropped on the floor, there were six or seven of her people chasing him. Before anyone could catch him, Kyle pulled the silk blot up over his head as he ran down the street, blinding himself for a moment. The blot had not opened for Mayor Jada or her people, so Kyle wondered whether it would work for him now.
CHAPTER 6
July 24, 2060
* * *
Moments later
Kyle tried to catch his breath inside the cramped time tunnel, happy to trade a little comfort for the safety of getting away from the group of chanters. These people, desperate to find a better life, knew that time weaving existed but, like Kyle, lacked a lot of the details to have a clear picture.
What Kyle didn’t know was whether they were right or wrong to blame the grim scene and frequent seismic and lunar events they experienced on time weaving. On top of any personal stake he had, Kyle was simply curious to piece together this entire puzzle. How many time weavers are there? he wondered. What was the purpose of the tunnel? Kyle hoped that whatever he was doing here might be able to help people like the ones in Mayor Jada’s group. He wondered if they were permanently doomed, or whether he and Allaire could perhaps create a better version of 2060?
He had no idea how time passed while he was inside the tunnel, or what time it would be when he went back out into 2060. The only rule of time weaving that Kyle felt pretty sure about was that he would exit the tunnel in the same geographic location in which he entered the silk blot.
A few minutes later, Kyle slid his silk blot back into the slot labeled 2060, poked his head through the opening and saw that the street was clear. It was nighttime now. Kyle looked up at a digital clock which still kept time on the side of a skyscraper a block away and saw that it was 8:44 on July twenty-fourth, exactly an hour later than he’d entered 2060 earlier that day. It was as if the tunnel were tapped into the purpose of each time he weaved through and knew exactly the right day and time to spit him out into the world.
Now, he didn’t waste any time and sprinted toward the silo, staying in the shadows of buildings as much he could.
From a distance, the silo looked like it was made with thin sheet metal, wrapped around a wooden or metal frame. But, up close, Kyle saw that it was incredibly thick. He pounded on its walls, but made only dull thuds. There was no way someone inside would hear his thumping, but he tried anyway.
After ten minutes of banging unsuccessfully on the silo’s exterior, he sat with his back against the cool metal under some graffiti. The silo was ringed with “tags” and other spray-painted words—nearly all in a different language, or in such broken English that Kyle could not interpret it. There was one spray-painted line, though, which stood out to him: SAVE US TOO.
Kyle wondered how many people were left in the city—in the country, even—at this point? Were the earthquakes only here in New York, or were they more widespread? There was so much he didn’t know.
The closest Kyle had found to a door on the silo’s exterior was a small seam in the metal running from the ground about forty feet up the side. Kyle figured this was the “door” which he’d used to fly the pillar out during his last trip here.
Kyle had sat now for a few hours, and was getting impatient. He pounded a few more times on the metal, but knew it was hopeless. There were security cameras all the way on top of the silo. He’d tried waving to the cameras, but still, there was nothing. His eyes darted back and forth. He hoped he could remain out of sight until someone entered or exited. He sat down against the cool metal, eyes darting in both directions, watching carefully so he could try to avoid another run-in with the chanters, or anyone else.
Finally, he heard a loud roar and then felt the wall pushing against his back. He quickly jumped up and moved away as the silo’s doors popped out and began to open. Kyle stood watching, ready to run inside when he had the chance.
He looked to the side just in time to see a pillar headed straight for the silo. He’d piloted one of these flying machines the last time he was in 2060 and knew that it handled like a very sensitive sports car, with the added challenge of flying at least twenty or so feet off the ground. Kyle found himself directly in between the pillar and the door.
He hit the deck just as the vehicle buzzed right over him. The silo door slid open, but only wide enough to let the pillar in.
When he saw this, Kyle raced toward the narrow opening which was already beginning to close. He leapt, his shoulder grazing the metal as he hurtled forward. He hit the ground inside and skidded along the slate floor. Seconds later, Kyle watched the door slide shut.
Right in front of Kyle, the pillar’s long tail settled onto the ground as the vehicle powered down. He ducked into the small crevice between the body of the ship and its tail, hoping to remain undetected until he knew who was inside. He moved further under the pillar, right beneath the tail, and took in the familiar sight of the inside of the silo—a spiral staircase going up and around the entire interior wall of the building, and leading from platform to platform. The platforms jutted out from the wall at different heights. Some of these “rooms” had screens around them for privacy, and others didn’t.
Kyle watched as a man he’d never seen before—about his age, maybe a few years older—hopped down from the pillar’s platform. The man looked around cautiously, but carried himself with confidence.
He walked toward the stairs leading up
to the first platform in the silo—the one that contained all of the computers and monitors. Kyle had sat there not long ago as Allaire and Everett showed him a version of himself living in 2060 who hadn’t aged at all. Neither of them could explain why they were seeing what they had, but they’d mentioned someone named Ayers as they were trying to figure it out. Allaire had told Kyle that she needed to stop Ayers, and that his actions were responsible for many of the problems with the timestream they saw in 2060. Could this be him? Kyle wondered.
After taking only a few steps away from the pillar, the man stopped and just stood for a moment. “These pillars are like flying snowmobiles. Such a rush to ride, but a bitch to handle,” he said. “Army commissioned them for search and rescue right before the military got mothballed in ’56. Too bad you can only ride ‘em here. I wish I could bring one in the tunnel and fly it over ancient Rome, or go and show it off to the Wright Brothers.”
Kyle looked up at the platforms and didn’t see anyone else. Perhaps the man was talking into a communication device that Kyle couldn’t see.
“I tried getting one through, but no can do. Tunnel’s too narrow,” the man continued.
Kyle willed himself to be quiet and still. He needed to see who this guy was talking to. Could Allaire be here as well? Perhaps she’d had no idea Kyle was outside that whole time.
The man looked like he was considering something. He took a step toward the stairs, then stopped. “Brave of you to go outside on your own,” the man said. “The remaining people here have all gone cannibal by now. I’m surprised they didn’t pick your bones clean.” Kyle saw the man turn around now and look straight at his hiding spot under the pillar’s tail. “Come on out, Kyle. I’ve been dying to meet you.”
Kyle’s heart raced as he slowly stepped out into the open. For a few seconds, he just stood and looked at the man. “Who are you?”
“I think you know who I am,” Ayers said. “If Allaire hasn’t mentioned me, I’d be pretty insulted.”
“Ayers?” Kyle asked.
The man smiled, and walked toward Kyle. He had the confident stride of someone whose problems were all easily solvable. Kyle hadn’t experienced a lot of “carefree” in the last few years.
Ayers extended his hand. “It’s a great pleasure, Kyle Cash.”
Kyle shook back limply. “How do you know who I am?”
Ayers smiled. “Because, as I understand it, you and I are part of a very, very select group. In fact, we are the group.”
“You mean, time weavers?” Kyle asked.
Again, Ayers smiled warmly, but Kyle could tell he was about to be corrected again. “No, no, no. Even more select. You and I? We get to jump through time—anywhere we want—and we get to do it without most of the silly rules that everyone else has to deal with. We’re special, my friend.”
Kyle had trouble thinking of himself as being special. He’d always felt so normal—until the bus crash. Then, he just felt broken. But never . . . “Special how? You mean, like, not aging?”
Ayers laughed as if Kyle had lobbed him a softball. “You can age if you want to, but only if you want to. Me? I decided to be twenty-three for the rest of eternity. You feel like getting old and gray, I can help you with that, but being young is more fun, Kyle.”
“I don’t know what it means to be special,” Kyle said.
“When you come through the tunnel, do you arrive on the day you need to arrive? Or do you have to keep jumping back and forth through your silk blot until you get close?”
“I arrive on the right day, I guess,” Kyle answered.
“Yes, you do! You know how many times your friend Allaire might have to weave back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, before she comes to the day she needs to?” Ayers asked. “Could be twenty times. Could be fifty. And she knows what she’s doing! She’s been at it for a while.”
Kyle knew he should be skeptical of Ayers, based on everything Allaire had told him. But every word he said sounded believable. His eyes were so earnest. Not a hair out of place. Even his outfit was a timeless pair of jeans, a gray button-down and a vest. He looked like he could’ve fit in anytime during the last century.
“Do you know where I can find her?” Kyle asked. “Will she be coming back here soon?”
Ayers smiled again, this time cocking his brow. “I sure hope not. That woman scares the shit out of me. We go back a long way, and she’s not my biggest fan.”
“I should get back home—” Kyle said. Despite his curiosity, Allaire’s warnings about Ayers played over and over in his head.
“She’s wrong about me,” Ayers said.
“The only reason I came here was to make peace with her,” Kyle said.
“The only reason?” Ayers said.
“Yeah,” Kyle answered. He wasn’t sure what Ayers was getting at.
Ayers came a step closer. “I think you came back here because you want some answers, Kyle, and you want to help. Don’t go back home. Come with me. Let me give you those answers. I’m pretty sure we’ll run into Allaire sooner or later.”
Kyle was afraid to let on that Ayers had pegged him correctly. He didn’t want Ayers to know just how tempted he was by any road that would lead to answers. “If I can’t find Allaire here, I need to get back to 2016. I saw what it’s like out there. The earthquakes. And something happened with the moon. It kept—”
Ayers dramatically reached his arms up into the sky. “Ah, Moonfalls . . . They’re something, eh? I didn’t say anything about staying here, Kyle. The future is fucked. Just trust me. I’ve got plans for us.”
“I’m sorry,” Kyle said. “I don’t think I’m your guy.” Even as the words came out of his mouth, Kyle knew he sounded as unconvincing and conflicted as he felt. Perhaps he was special, and Ayers was the one who could show him how.
Ayers lowered his voice and got really close to Kyle. “I want to help you bring back those three hundred forty people—the ones who died at the high school.”
“No,” Kyle said. “It’s not poss—.”
Ayers just grinned and kept talking. “Of course it’s possible, Kyle. You finally stopped the bus crash, didn’t you? We’re going to save those poor kids and teachers . . . And then . . . ! And then, I want to show you how to live forever. No consequences. No guilt. Eternal life. Eternal freedom.”
“I don’t believe you,” Kyle said.
“Maybe not yet,” Ayers said. “But you’re intrigued.”
He’d come to 2060 looking for Allaire, and for answers. And to possibly see if he could help her fix the future. But, Kyle hadn’t had any intention of trying, yet again, to fix the past. He hated that Ayers was right—he was intrigued.
Ayers pulled out a silk blot. “Come with me.”
“Where? When?” Kyle answered.
“Nineteen eighty-nine,” Ayers answered.
“To do what?” Kyle asked.
Ayers looked down. He shook his head and smiled solemnly. “To never,” he said. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, Kyle.”
“Never?” Kyle asked. “What does that mean?”
Ayers looked upstairs toward the surveillance platform. “I have to go up and get what I came here for.”
“What does it mean, ‘to never’?” Kyle asked again.
“We’ve gotta get moving,” Ayers said. “I’ll explain on the way.”
Kyle took a step back. Like it or not, he was tempted to see what Ayers could show him—more tempted than he was by the idea of going back to 2016. But he’d only made things worse every time he’d traveled back. “I don’t know.”
“Let me put it this way, and then we really have to go,” Ayers said. “Allaire may mean well, but she’s got it all wrong. She sees a silk blot and thinks about what can go wrong. I see a silk blot, and I see possibilities. And I think you do too. And if not, then you will . . . Come with me and see what’s possible, Kyle. Time weaving exists for a reason—and it’s amazing!”
Kyle heard the same rumble he did the
last time as the side of the silo popped open. He watched as another pillar flew inside.
“I’m out of here,” Ayers said, holding the silk blot out to him. He looked upstairs like he was considering going up for whatever he’d come for. “You with me?”
“Who’s here?” Kyle asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Ayers said. “I’m not really welcome here.”
Kyle looked at the pillar. Could it be Allaire? Kyle wondered.
“Come get those three hundred forty people off your conscience,” Ayers said. “And live forever with me.”
Kyle decided to go. He took a deep breath, about to stick his head inside Ayers’s silk blot. He’d never have to go back to the Mega-Market. And, he thought, if there was even a chance, didn’t he have to see if he actually could save the three hundred forty dead? Ayers seemed so sure. Kyle looked back at the other pillar once more, still powering down. Its side platform was rising to the level of the door in anticipation of someone exiting.
Ayers pulled the blot toward himself now. He stepped into the blot like a pair of pants, and began pulling it up over himself. Kyle had never thought to enter like that before.
“Okay,” Kyle said, lifting his foot to step into the blot.
The pillar’s doors slid apart and Kyle saw Allaire step out onto the platform. He put his hand on Ayers’s wrist. “Wait,” Kyle said.
Ayers tried pulling the blot up over their heads, even though Kyle was pressing down on his wrist.
“I said wait!” Kyle shouted. Now, he pulled the blot down, overpowering Ayers.
“You’re making a mistake, Kyle,” Ayers said.
Kyle pulled one leg over the outside of the blot and stumbled to the silo floor. Ayers frowned as he made eye contact with Allaire and then pulled the blot over his chest, and then his head. Once inside the blot, Ayers vanished into thin air.
CHAPTER 7
July 24, 2060
Blow Up and Fall Down Page 4
