by Dan Rix
Zero light.
The cramped space only amplified her pulse, until it sounded like a bass drum right inside her ear. Instantly, sweat broke out on her skin.
Nine hours in here . . .
Then she heard it. A high pitched tone coasting down to a gentle throb. From inside the Chronos, it sounded terrifying, and her stomach squeezed into a tight knot. She waited for the click.
It never came.
Instead, a sudden spurt of electricity pulsed through her body, leaving her fingers tingling, her ears ringing, her thoughts muddled. Then the tone began climbing again, spinning faster and faster until it faded again into the ultrasonic range.
But no click.
In fact, no sound at all came from outside.
Just the rhythmic throb of the time machine around her, droning on and on, stretching out and perpetually seeming to slow to zero but never quite reaching it.
Just silence.
No click? Had the machine even started?
She pressed the front panel. It didn’t budge. She pressed harder. It really didn’t budge. She lowered her shoulder and slammed against it. Might as well have slammed a granite wall. Not a millimeter of give. Her breath cut off in panic.
Locked in.
No, worse than that. Her body had just been inputted into the Chronos, into a parallel quantum state, cut off from the rest of the world, from which she would be unable to escape until the output click nine hours ago.
She was now travelling back in time.
CLICK HERE to begin book one in my new Timeloopers series, A Strange Machine.
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