The land leveled out. A little more than a mile ahead, a spindly metal bridge spanned a ravine. We'd crossed that bridge on the way to San Claredo. There was a river at the bottom. Decent-sized. If the drop from the bridge to the water was as short as I remembered, I'd take my chances and jump, swim until I'd put some distance between myself and the train tracks, then sneak back to Brownville.
If Vette had any sense—and wasn't already dead—she'd do something similar. Either that or hide out for the next week until the Pods yanked us back to Primetime.
The roof of the train was mostly flat and featureless, but several cars back, a chimney and pipes projected to thigh height. Cover. I got up, gathering my balance, then jogged along the car. There was a good six-foot gap between cars, but momentum was on my side. I broke into a sprint and leapt across. I landed, stumbled, spread my limbs to catch myself. My wrists and knees throbbed, but I was intact. I trundled down the car and made another jump.
I still had two cars to go when a bullet whizzed past my head.
I hit the deck. A man in a bandana swayed on the roof two cars and eighty feet away. One of the passengers must have tipped him off. I braced my shooting elbow and opened fire. He jerked out of the way, then wobbled and toppled over the side, smashing into the wooden ties along the side of the tracks.
I got up and ran. A bullet slapped into the wooden roof just ahead. I dropped. Bandits swarmed up the same ladder I'd come up. They were a good fifty yards back, which was a tough shot with these antique pistols under any circumstances, let alone on top of a rocking, jostling train, but gunshots were going off like fireworks, the smell of burnt gunpowder carrying on the wind. Pressed flat on the roof, I fired back, emptying my pistol. As soon as I stopped, a bandit got up, ran down the car, and leapt the first gap. A couple others moved to follow. The remainder went on shooting, pinning me down.
"Jump!"
I blinked. A dust cloud roiled beside the train. Vette bobbed into view, her horse surging to keep up.
She waved one hand, other clinging to the reins. "Jump!"
Gunshots crackled, fighting to be heard over the thunder of the iron dragon. I scrabbled to the opposite side of the car, got up, and ran straight back at the ledge. Vette galloped beside the tracks, looking very far away.
I jumped as high and far as I could. Vette's eyes went wide. I crashed into her and the pommel of the saddle, knocking the wind from my lungs. I gasped. She peeled away from the train and raced due west toward the sea. Shots popped behind us, growing fainter by the second.
I disentangled myself and clung to the horse's hot, sweaty neck. After a minute, I could breathe again. "Where did you find a horse?"
"Took it from the bandits." Vette glanced over her shoulder. "They were waiting along the tracks. Caught up to the train when it tried to take the hill. You're sure they were after us?"
"Extremely."
"Then we'd better get out of sight."
She cut southwest through a fold in the hills. The train disappeared from sight, though its bloom of smoke continued to give it away. Vette slowed down to negotiate the rock-studded slopes. After a couple miles with no sign of pursuit, she stopped in a draw to give the horse and ourselves a welcome breather.
I got out my handkerchief and swiped dust and sweat from my face. "How did you get to a horse in the first place?"
Vette swigged from a flask I hadn't known she carried. "They were riding right beside the train. Tried to tell you."
"Good work. Thank you."
She smiled, then quickly smothered it. "I think we should go straight to Ottoway."
"Are these directions clear enough for you to follow?" I opened my vest, indicating the paper the man had left me in the tunnel. "We'll sneak into Brownville at night. Find Mabry. He'll lead us there."
She looked ready to argue, then thought better and nodded. "Long ride. Better move."
We found our way to the river, watered the horse and ourselves. Crossing it nearly drowned us. We dried ourselves off, checked our firearms for water, and continued north along the coast. We were further away from Brownville than I thought; we had to stop for the night before we reached the woody peninsula where I'd been ambushed in Vance Canyon.
We couldn't risk a fire, meaning we were damp, chilled, and miserable. Hungry, too. We'd left our bag on the train, including the food I'd brought for emergencies just like this one. There were orange trees on the peninsula, the fruit falling right to the ground, but I had no intention of stumbling around in the dark for it. The saddlebags on our stolen horse had some dry bread and a single blanket, both of which we shared. The surf crashed and boomed. Overhead, five thousand stars burned more clearly than I'd ever seen.
We woke early. I was stiff and sore and scraped. We took turns riding; at times we both dismounted and walked alongside the horse, giving it a rest. Slow as we were, we drew within sight of Brownville's shacks that afternoon. With daylight ready to betray us if came too close to civilization, I circled around to Mabry's claim near the river north of town, hoping to catch him before he headed in to the saloons. We lucked out.
There in the patchy trees, Mabry straightened, back crackling, and leaned on his shovel. "You look like you got caught in a wagon's spokes."
"Hockery took exception to our interest in his business." I slapped dust from my denim pants. "You got anything to eat?"
He fed us last night's chicken and gravy, examining my map and directions while we chowed down. He tapped the text. "Don't recognize all the landmarks."
"Nobody's going to think badly of you if you don't want to get involved," I said. "Hockery's more dangerous than you know."
Mabry nodded with a wry and angry smile. "If nobody steps up, won't be long before he's threatened, bribed, and muscled control of everything here. I'll show you the way."
I clapped him on the shoulder. "Thank you."
He glanced at Vette and touched the brim of his hat. "With any luck, we'll lead you to your brother, too."
She smiled. "I'd appreciate that, Mr. Mabry."
He grinned back. Beneath his beard, he might even have blushed. Despite the declining sun, I had half a mind to ride out then and there, but we were all tired, and Mabry's camp was tucked inside the trees where it wasn't likely to get spotted by anyone, let alone Hockery's men. After promising to make an early start, we slept.
I felt better in the morning. We fed and geared ourselves while it was still dark, then Mabry led the way on his mule. The dawn's first light painted the trees unfamiliar shades of blue and gray. We broke into the prairie and the sun burned the dew, filling the air with the smell of humid grass. The foothills lumped up from the flatland. Mabry charted the way, moving from one trail to the next, pausing to examine the directions, the map, and the landscape, muttering to himself as he ran his finger along the spidery words.
My anticipation rose with the land. I didn't know what we'd find, but if it proved a world beyond Primetime had access to time travel, it would change everything. The idea was terrifying: we had the Cutting Room, Central, and two hundred years of experience defending the past, but I doubted it would be enough. It's hard enough to police the present. When all of history is open to infiltration, invasion, and attack, it's impossible to keep out those who would corrupt it.
Mountains loomed before us, high and snow-capped. Grass, pines, and wildflowers sprouted from whatever dirt collected between the sharp black rocks. Mabry headed up another ridge and stopped at its flat top. The entire basin spread out behind us. Ahead, he pointed to a boisterous waterfall pouring down a short cliff into a pool. A stream exited it, hustling away to the southeast.
"Here it is," Mabry said.
I stopped cold. "Here's what?"
"Ottoway."
I scanned the landscape. Birds winged between the pines. Bugs called to each other, hidden by nature's vastness. "There's nothing here."
Mabry tapped the directions. "Well, this is it. The falls just past Crotter's Lurch."
My stomac
h turned on itself. "It's a wild goose chase. A trap. But if they wanted me dead, why not kill me in the graveyard in San Claredo?"
"What if it's a metaphor?" Vette said.
"How so?"
She gestured at the pristine crags. "It means 'beginning,' right? What if whatever's going to happen here hasn't happened yet?"
I turned in a slow circle, gaze sweeping across the mountains, down to the wide yellow basin, then back to the heights and the stream. I imagined how it would look in ten years, fifty, three hundred, towns cropping up wherever there was water or a crossroads, Brownville expanding to all sides, towers climbing, until all the towns grew together and filled the basin to the brim. And where were Hockery's holdings now? Scattered through the hills just below us, dotting the plain, all the way to the long crease of the misnomered Green Valley Ranch—
My head lurched. "It's not just a metaphor."
"What?" Vette said.
I opened my mouth to explain, then forced myself not to glance at Mabry. "Your brother. I know where he's gone."
"Okay," she said slowly. "Feel like telling me?"
Mabry chuckled. "Not while I'm around, I reckon."
"Sorry," I said. "It's better you don't know."
"You seen all you need to see?"
"Think so."
He nodded back the way we'd come in. "Then how about I make sure none of Hockery's boys followed us up here. You catch up when you're through."
"Perfect," I said. He waved and turned his mule, rocks grinding under its hooves. Once he dropped from sight, I moved next to Vette and lowered my voice. "This is where the river begins."
She considered the basin. "I could see how that's valuable."
"But that's not all. Most of the land around the river is owned by hundreds of prospectors, speculators, and businessmen. Hockery could never get his hands on it all." I pointed across the basin. "You see that? That's Green Valley Ranch."
"So what? It's miles from the river."
"Today. But look. It's one of the lowest points in the basin. See how far it runs?"
Her mouth fell open. "If they divert it here at Ottoway, it'll re-stream through every piece of land they've picked up. They'll own the whole river. But why?"
"I don't know."
"So what's our next move? Break into Hockery's office? Track down the informant from San Claredo?"
"Ride off into the sunset," I said.
"You want to run away?" Vette cocked her head. "That doesn't sound like the Blake I know."
"It's too dangerous here. Too dirty and low-tech. We're outmanned and exposed. The easiest way to uncover what's happening is to go back to the future and see what they've changed."
"But it's days until the Pods take us back."
"My gut says Ottoway isn't an end in itself. It's a route to money. We can't follow that money any further until it exists."
"This sounds," Vette said, "like I'm about to go several days without bathing."
"Not in town, no," I said. "If you don't mind the cold, you can use the river."
"Like I said. Days without bathing."
We rejoined Mabry, then headed back through the foothills to the plains. I thanked him for all he'd done and tried to reward him with all the gold left in my purse. He refused. Vette hugged him, and while he awkwardly returned it, I slipped my coinage into his mule's saddlebag.
From there, it was just a matter of finding a quiet spot near the river, building a lean-to from the sap-sticky branches of pines, and foraging enough food to prevent ourselves from starving. I hadn't had to live off the fruit of the earth in a long time.
Little did I know how valuable those few days of practice were about to become.
The Pods whisked us back through the numb nothing between dimensions. Mara stood right outside, waiting for my emergence. I shielded my eyes against the hard white artificial light and followed her to be debriefed. It was as disorienting as always. Subjectively, I'd experienced two weeks, but in Primetime, mere minutes had passed.
Our trip had been incredibly messy and invasive—I was almost positive the hired goons we'd killed on the train were native to that timeline, for god's sake—but I told Mara everything. The implications were too vast. Anyway, Hockery had already hopelessly corrupted the continuity. Whatever changes we'd wrought were drops in a bucket.
"I want to go back," I said.
She frowned. "You said it had gotten too hot. That you were finished."
"In that specific time. I want to skip forward. To when Korry Haltur was killed. We were just there, any changes will be obvious."
"There are protocols. You need time to decompress."
"Haltur's death and the coverup were happening in real time. We're right behind them." I leaned forward. "And if some other world has time travel, Primetime itself could come under attack."
"God damn it." She rapped her knuckles on the plastic desk. "You'll need backup."
"I'm taking Vette. We talked it over while we were waiting for the Pod. It would take too long to get anyone else up to speed."
"She's brand new, Blake."
"And learning fast."
Mara breathed a long sigh through her nostrils. "Get what you need from the Pods. I'll set up the jump."
I smiled and headed off to requisition supplies. The Pods got to work, printing out weapons, surveillance gear, computer tablets, clothes. Vette joined me and I added her orders to the queue.
"You sure you're ready to go back?" I said. "Last trip was pretty rough."
She snorted. "You kidding? We spent the last four nights sleeping under the stars. I've never been more rested in my life."
"Good." The Pod spat out a jacket, time-appropriate shoes. Even the natural fibers (as much as you could call machine-printed leather "natural") had the smell of hot, crisp plastic. I stripped down and changed. "This should be a lot less hectic. All we have to do is sit back and watch."
"I'll believe that when I see it."
"Come on," I teased. "You're right out of the Academy. Give it at least a couple years before you get cynical."
She smiled. The Pods finished assembling our gear, but with the timeline in flux, they had no information to download to our tablets. We were going in blind. No matter. We already knew the world. And within minutes of plugging into the local networks, its data would overflow our tablets.
Mara punched up coordinates and came to watch us go in person. "Be careful. Be very careful. And if you get the chance, compile your report before you return. I want to take it to Central ASAP."
"Sure thing." I waved and climbed into the Pod. It closed, sealing me and Vette in its clean white security.
There was a moment of nothing, a fuzzy timelessness, and then we stood on a hill in a cold wind overlooking a city.
The skyline was dark. The towers were jagged, crooked, half-crumbled. There was no noise of cars or machines. Just the whistle of the wind through the bones of the city.
"What the hell?" Vette said. "Where did the Pod send us?"
"There's the mountains," I pointed. "There's the basin. The river's different, but we expected that. See the coastline? Exactly the same as we saw it from Ottoway. Or from the G&A tower."
She got quiet, the way people always do in graveyards. "Then what happened?"
"Exactly what it looks like." I zipped up my collar against the wind and got out my tablet to check for radiation. "Everyone died."
IV
Vette gawked at the gray ruins of Brownville. "What happened?"
"I'll give you two guesses. Last time we were in this when, it was a fully functional world."
"Why buy up all that land if you were just going to blow it up?"
I fiddled with my tablet. Radiation was more or less normal. I scanned for toxins. "Maybe they didn't mean to."
"Causality's a bitch." She got out a combined pen/camera/spyglass and peered at the silent city. "Maybe they're brand new to time travel. Didn't know how easy it is to screw it up."
"Could be," I
said, distracted by my readings, which continued to come back within acceptable tolerances. "Environment looks safe. Let's head in."
"What's the point? This place is a wasteland now. Why don't we wait for the Pods, then try an earlier time?"
"Because the Pods will take a week. And we've only got food and water for two days."
"Oh right. Survival." She pocketed her spyglass and hoisted her pack. "Has this ever happened to you before?"
"Surprise apocalypse? No." I scanned the city, zooming in with my eyes. Crows and pigeons flapped between the dusty buildings, but I saw no people. "They used to run into this stuff in the early days of CR, but I haven't heard of such active changes to a timeline in decades."
"So what's protocol in these situations?"
I started down the hill. "Try not to die."
"Yeah, about that."
"Don't worry. It isn't usually permanent. They send back another agent to a point when we were still alive and extract us before the death occurs."
Vette frowned. "What about unusually?"
"Situation's deemed too dangerous to risk further agents. Or the timeline's deemed too tenuous too disturb any further."
"Why not go back to before we came here and warn us not to make the trip in the first place?"
I shook my head. "Because then you're undoing events in Primetime."
"And that's the one thing we can never do." She rubbed her arms. "So instead they let us die in the most foreign field we've ever known. Hell of a job."
I watched her, struck by her uncharacteristic ennui, then strode through the rustling grass, gun in hand. The Pod had dropped us in the mountains where any human presence would be unlikely and any settlements would be impossible. We had a long walk ahead of us. We were about to burn a lot of calories. Our enhanced metabolisms were sleek and efficient, but I was already on the lookout for food.
The wind chased the ghosts through the streets of the distant city. The river snaked down from the hills, as gray and dull as lead. But they'd shifted its course sometime over the three hundred years between Silas Hockery's Old West schemes and the future we were in now.
The Cutting Room: A Time Travel Thriller Page 12
