Time Bomb: Dimensions Series Book 2

by Seven Steps

  BWWWWAAAA.

  Screaming pulled her attention to the left. A small child stood in the middle of the street, a woman near him crushed as a car repeatedly fell atop her flat body, splattering the child with blood and matter.

  Manholes flew in the air and landed with a clang. Each rise and fall bringing them closer to crushing the small boy. Tears streamed down his ghostly pale face. His red, curly hair blew slightly in the breeze that the disaster around him created. Blood streaked his red overalls. His mother’s, no doubt. He gripped a one-eyed teddy bear in both of his small, chubby arms, his wide green eyes full of fright.

  People ran around him, nearly trampling him as they fled for their lives. No one stopped to help.

  BWWWWAAAA.

  The manhole crept closer. A few more blasts from the horn, and the boy would be crushed.

  No! I have to do something. I have to help him.

  “Stay right there!” Susan screamed.

  The boy showed no sign of hearing her. And how could he? The world was exploding around him.

  Avoiding the metal that rose and fell around her, she put her hands over her head and ran out into the street.

  A whoosh of wind pulled her attention upward. A giant hunk of deformed steel fell from the sky. It was a HVAC unit ripped from the top of one of the buildings. She screamed, and jumped backward as the box slammed into the ground, spraying her with debris and separating her from the boy. Then it was airborne again. She scurried forward and launched herself at the boy, nearly tackling him to the ground.

  “No!” he cried, pummeling her with small fist. “Mama!”

  “It’s okay. It’s okay.” Susan rolled herself upward and pulled the boy into her arms. “I’m going to take you someplace safe. It’s okay.”

  Safe? She almost wanted to chuckle at the irony of it. There is no place safe. The world is burning!

  Her eyes roamed over the streets and buildings, smoking, twisted, and shaking. The metal had begun to form into something above her. A flat, roof-like shape. But she couldn’t stop to think about that now. She had to find safety. She had to help the boy.

  She spied a park a block away. Factory Park, a footprint of the first factory built in Middleborough. The town used to churn out textiles, tires, glass, steel, and everything else imaginable. Now it was the epicenter of homelessness and unemployment in the state.

  Several people had already gathered in the small, grassy circle, huddling together in panic and tears as they took in the chaos around them. Nothing flew in the air down there except for one metal bench that jumped from time to time.

  She looked in the opposite direction. Further down the street, things appeared normal. No metal jumped in the air. No smoke or fire assaulted the buildings. In the distance, she heard the sound of fire trucks and saw their lights flashing.

  Perhaps whatever was happening was isolated to this block?

  Beyond Factory Park was a giant, rusty, abandoned warehouse; mostly just a shell now. That didn’t move either. Neither did the metal bridge beyond it. And the sky was clear there. How could-

  The child screamed, and Susan dove out of the way before a manhole could crush them both.

  Time to go.

  She raced forward, ducking and dodging the chaos as best as she could. She kept one hand over the boy’s head, and felt him squeeze his teddy bear in his arms. His small whimpers and request for his mother broke her heart, but there was nothing that she could do about it now. She had to get him to safety.

  The metal roof forming above her expanded, blocking the clouds above.

  Panting, legs burning, mind numb with the painful horn, Susan reached the park and the frightened inhabitants therein. Willing her heart to slow and her mind to think, she put down the boy and held up her hands.

  “Don’t panic,” she said, trying to calm the frightened knot of people. Included among them was the CEO of the health center she worked at. He’d always seemed like such a pompous jerk. Now, he was trembling along with the rest of the derelicts.

  “Everything is going to be okay!” she cried.

  The ground shook in time to the horn, but there was no metal there. The buildings were further away, and there was no parking allowed around the park. It seemed that they had found their oasis in the storm.

  “What’s happening?” A woman with a dirty face and a single braid screamed.

  “I don’t know,” Susan replied. “We’ll just have to wait for help to arrive.”

  The horn sounded again in her head, and she grimaced.

  “What’s wrong with you?” the woman asked. “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” Susan replied. “It’s the horn. It hurts my ears.”

  “What horn?”

  “The horn. Can’t you hear it? It goes off right before everything rises.”

  The confused look in the woman’s face spread to Susan’s, and, slowly, reality began to sink in.

  No one else can hear the horn.

  She looked up to the sky. A circle of blue in a sea of dark clouds looked back at her.

  No one else can hear the horn.

  “It’s you, isn’t it?” the woman whispered. “It’s you. You’re doing it. She’s doing it!”

  The crowd frowned, and advanced forward on her.

  Susan’s stomach dropped, and she put her hands up in defense.

  “No. No. Wait. It’s not true.”

  “You are doing this! You!”

  “No. It’s not true!”

  The ground shook again.

  “Get her!” someone cried.

  “Kill her!” someone else shouted.

  She looked for an empathetic face in the crowd, but could only find one. The boy. He held on tight to his teddy bear and sucked on his right thumb, his face curious.

  “It’s okay,” Susan whispered to him, even as she backed away from the mob. “Everything will be okay.”

  The horn sounded. The ground rolled beneath them, then exploded, throwing rusted, jagged steel cables high in air. The cables ripped through the crowd, slicing and stabbing at them. Blood, heads, arms, legs, and torsos rained from the sky, littering the ground. And, in the middle of them, one teddy bear.

  It was impossible to breathe. Susan's lungs closed. Her heart seized, her head spun. Her legs gave way, and she fell to her knees. Her stomach wrenched, and bile shot up her throat.

  No. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be-

  Sorcha. Sorcha, is that you?

  Susan’s panic attack halted. The voice. It was definitely in her head, just like the horn, but the voice was not hers. It was deep with a heavy Russian accent. Male. Rough, like the carpet that comforted her.

  But who is Sorcha?

  They are coming for you.

  Black cars squealed to a stop before her, giving her pause.

  Why aren’t they crushed like everything else?

  Run. Don’t let them catch you!

  “Who are you?” she screamed at the voice, her eyes darting in every direction to find its source.

  The doors to the black cars opened, and men in black suits stepped out.

  Run. Don’t just sit there. Run!

  One of the men, bald with hard eyes, held out his hand to her as if she would attack at any minute.

  No. Not me. I’m not dangerous. I wouldn’t hurt anyone. Leave me alone.

  “Susan Forrester. Please stay where you are.”

  “What’s happening to me?” she asked, rising to her feet, stepping over the body parts that littered the ground. She tried not to think about what laid among those parts. Tried not to think about the boy.

  “Ma’am, we need you to remain calm.”

  He spoke loudly, over the glass and metal breaking and crumbling around them.

  “I’m doing this, aren’t I?” she demanded. “Aren’t I?”

  “Just relax. We aren’t going to hurt you. We are here to help you. To take you to a safe place.”

  The man both scared and angered her
, even more so than the dying world that surrounded them.

  Don’t listen to them. Run, or you will die.

  The foreign words in her head agreed with what her hazy mind told her. These men were trouble. She was sure of it, though she didn’t know how.

  Where will I go? she thought, not knowing if the voice could hear her or not.

  To the old warehouse two blocks over. Hurry, and be careful. I’ll be waiting for you there.

  “Everything will be fine,” the man said, coming closer to her. “Just take it easy. We are going to take you in, and this whole thing will come to an end.”

  She stretched her hands out to the sky. “But how can I do all of this? What am I?” she asked.

  He nodded. “You know what you are, Sorcha.”

  There was that name again.

  Sorcha. Who is Sorcha?

  The unfamiliar name sent warmth shooting through her. It was comforting. Like the carpet. Like the foreign voice.

  She violently shook her aching head as confusion drowned her.

  “No. My name is Susan Forrester.”

  “That is the name that he gave you. But it’s not who you are.”

  Get out of there!

  She spied one of the men reaching into his back pocket.

  Did they mean to shoot her? But she hadn’t done anything. She was just Susan Forrester from I-

  The man closest to the car whipped out a pistol, and Susan ducked just in time to miss its fat bullets.

  They want to kill me? The men in black want to kill me?

  Run, Sorcha!

  She fled from the green space, running in zig zag lines down the street and toward the large metal warehouse two blocks away. Her feet ate up the ground, but the men were fast, quickly gaining on her. She ran around the cars and debris, still floating and dropping around her.

  Timing it with the horn in her head, she ran closer to the cars when they were about to fall, and beneath them when they were about to rise, hoping against hope that the men’s timing was off and that they’d be crushed.

  She didn’t stop to see.

  Her heart hammering in her chest, her lungs in a vice, her veins pumping acid, she ran down the middle of the street toward the warehouse.

  Tires squealed behind her, a gunned engine roaring through the chaos of the earth.

  She imagined herself crushed beneath the wheels of the tires, and veered onto the sidewalk.

  Just a little further, Sorcha. Come on. You can do it! Just a little further.

  She saw the warehouse in front of her, tall and covered in rust and old bricks. The building didn’t shake. Didn’t move as the other buildings did. It stood eerily silent as the rest of the world rose and crushed around her.

  In the distance, she saw the Red Stock bridge wobble and wave. Cars rose from its crimson frame, crashing into the river below.

  Susan’s heart fell. There were people in those cars. People who were now dead.

  Is it my fault? Did I kill those people?

  The car swerved behind her, riding alongside as she ran. The driver’s side window opened, and the man who’d spoke to her before leaned over another man who looked exactly like him.

  Are they twins? Or something worse.

  “Sorcha, listen to us. You are in grave danger. You have to come with us.”

  No. Not me. I couldn’t.

  She ran faster, rushing into the warehouse. Someone had propped the door open.

  Was it the man behind the voice? Did he do this?

  Come to the middle of the room, Sorcha.

  Her feet pounded to a stop, and she turned around in time to see the men in the black suits walking toward her.

  Claustrophobia threatened to drown her. She was trapped. There was only one entrance and exit that she could see, and she'd ran through it. Now, the men were blocking it. It was dark in the warehouse, the only light coming from the doorway.

  She faced the men, hatred for them rolling through her.

  But why should I hate them? I don't know anything about them. Well, besides the fact that they tried to shoot me a minute ago.

  “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “We are people, just like you. Though not as special, of course. Nothing is as special as you, Sorcha.”

  She took a step backward as the men advanced. A few more and she’d be in the center of the room.

  “I’m not special,” she said. “I’m just an IT Analyst in a Health Center. I’m nobody. I'm not even old enough to drink yet.”

  They stalked closer, their hands deep in their back pockets.

  “Oh, but you are special, Sorcha. You are one of a kind. That’s why you must come with us."

  Only two more steps and she would be in the center of the room.

  “Somehow, I don’t think you have my best intentions at heart."

  “Is that what he told you?”

  He?

  They pulled out their weapons, and fired.

  She threw up her hands in a futile effort to protect herself. Suddenly, her body felt weightless, cold.

  And then, there was silence.

  CHAPTER 2

  “It’s you.”

  The Russian voice spoke to her. Only, that time, it wasn’t in her head. It was real.

  Susan put down her hands, her feet feeling as if they might slip from under her at any time. The first thing she noticed was that the horn sound had ended, replaced with humming from wherever she now was.

  The second thing she noticed was that she was no longer in the warehouse. The men who’d twice tried to kill her were gone. She was inside a low lit room. In front of her was a beeping and flashing console with two chairs. Archways separated the space into a kitchen area, a sleeping area, and what looked to be a work area. At least there was a work bench in it.

  It’s like a weird studio apartment.

  The coolness of the pad beneath her feet made her tremble.

  “Where am I?” she asked.

  “You are in a safe place.”

  He was a tall man, with kind eyes the color of a stormy sea. He still held the youthful look of a man not yet twenty with his smooth skin and curly black hair. His body was a tower of muscle, and he wore a grey jumpsuit. She had the strangest feeling that she’d seen him before. An overwhelming urge to run to him coursed through her, and she crossed her arms against it.

  What am I saying? I don’t even know this man.

  “Where is a safe place?”

  “Aboard my ship. The Sorcha. Named after you.”

  “My name is Susan Forrester.”

  A small smile settled on his face, but there was something else there. A strain. The muscles in his neck and shoulders were tense, like a cat ready to pounce.

  “Yes. I know. It is a name that I gave you. To protect you.”

  “To protect me from what?”

  “From them. Those men down there.”

  Susan shook her head.

  Is this all a dream? If so, then it’s time to wake up. I want to wake up!

  She pinched her arm as hard as she could and watched the blood return to the pale, brown skin there.

  How come I’m still asleep? What’s going on?

  “If you think you’re dreaming, Sorcha, you’re not. This is as real as you or I.”

  The name from his lips made her stomach clench. She wasn’t Sorcha, but to have him say the name with such reverence and feeling made her want to consider changing her own.

  What am I saying? I have to go home. I have to get out of here. Wherever here is.

  “So this is a ship, huh?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then you can go places. Like my apartment.”

  “Your apartment is now being raided by the Corporation. They are looking through every scrap of paper, every drawer, and every closet.”

  “But why? I’m nobody.”

  “No, Sorcha.” He stepped forward, standing only a few inches away from her. “You are someone very, very special.”

 
He raised one hand, running it along her cheek. She felt like her entire body had caught on fire. Instinctually, she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, her body wanting more.

  But why? I don’t even know him.

  Her eyes flew open, and she took a step back.

  “What have you done to me?”

  Her mind said to flee, while her body begged to stay near him. She heeded her mind and took another step back. Then another. And another. Then, the back of her foot hit something hard, and she flew backward, landing hard on her backside. Pain shot through her tail bone and up her back.

  “Sorcha!”

  He was upon her in an instant, lifting her in his powerful arms, walking across the room, and placing her on a stool next to a table filled with gadgets she’d never seen before.

  The pain in her back was nothing compared to the shock of being carried. Though not obese, she was a big girl. Tall with thick hips. No one had ever lifted her. Heck. She got winded going up the stairs at work. How was he able to do that?

  “Rest, Sorcha. You’ve been through so much.”

  He ran his finger down her cheek again, pulling the shiver from her again. The shiver that he’d taken for his own. That he’d branded her with.

  Lungs tight, she tried to choke out a coherent sentence. “You look familiar.”

  “I should. I’m your husband.”

  Continued in Free Fall (Dimensions Series Book 2)

  Also by Seven Steps

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  The Fall of Arees – Venus Rising Book 2

  The Martian King: Venus Rising Book 3

  Night of the Broken Moon (A Venus Rising Companion Short Stories)

  The Escape (A Venus Rising Prequel)

  Time Bomb – Dimensions Series Book 1

  Free Fall – Dimensions Series Book 2

  Leilu – Dimensions: Origins Book 1

  Thrillers

  Before I Wake

  Awaken

  Contemporary Romance

  The Last Rock King

  Peace in the Storm

  The Beginning of Forever

  Let’s Connect

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