Time of Treason

by Susan M. MacDonald

  The burning sensation worsened just as his bus jerked out of its standstill and the other bus did the same. The traffic suddenly cleared enough and the driver took full advantage, speeding up around the corner. Alec craned his neck but the odd trio was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, he sat back down. The orb’s burn slowly dissipated and disappeared completely a moment later. That was strange. Were those three actually looking for him? Were they a part of the Others he didn’t know about? Could it have been the creepy Council that Darius was always ragging on about? Or was it his imagination working overtime and the orb just doing some weird orb thing he hadn’t noticed before?

  With more questions than answers swirling around in his head, Alec sat back and tried to relax. Regardless of who those three oddities were, no one seemed to notice him. As long as he kept his hand off his orb, he’d be fine.

  He ended up near Parliament by late afternoon, hungry and moderately annoyed at the continuous hordes of tourists. Alec came to a weary stop on the bridge under Big Ben’s shadow. He leaned over the stone balustrade and watched the tour boats chug below him in the murky water of the Thames.

  The city was great. There were masses of things to see and he’d made up an entire list of things to do and places to go. The problem was money. Getting money the legal way, like a job, was out of the question. Panhandling wasn’t a viable option either; he’d have to stay in one place for too long and he doubted he’d get the kind of cash he needed.

  There was nothing else for it. He’d have to use his orb and take money, preferably from someone who wouldn’t even miss it. He ignored the twinge of conscience. Was it his fault he was alone, broke, on the streets without any supports? No, it wasn’t. Darius was the one bossing him around, putting him in danger, flirting with Riley. If Darius hadn’t followed him and opened the way for Rhozan to find him, everything would have been fine.

  Galvanized with anger, Alec set off again, a vague plan in his head. Stealing a wallet was too risky. It might not have any cash in it and if he was caught, he’d be in serious trouble. Most credit cards needed pin numbers nowadays and without them they’d be useless. He needed cash.

  The now familiar red circle with a blue line cutting it in half indicated a subway or, as he now knew it, an underground station, just up ahead. There was probably an ATM near the ticket booth. Time to see if the orb he carried really did work on machines.

  He crossed the busy thoroughfare with the crowds and entered Westminster station. Sure enough, within a few heartbeats he’d located the bank machine and joined the queue. There were several people ahead of him and it seemed to take ages before it was his turn. He had to keep the time he held the orb down to the very minimum and be prepared to run for his life the instant goosebumps crawled over his skin. He pulled his orb out of his pocket and, furtively looking around to see if anyone was watching, he pressed it against the machine and closed his eyes.

  Money. Lots and lots of money. He focused his attention on the machine ahead of him. Pictured twenty-pound notes slipping out of the dispenser. Willed it to happen.

  Nothing did.

  He opened his eyes. In the line behind him, someone coughed with annoyance.

  Screw them, this was important. He could almost feel the machine, as odd as that was. He was close. He tried again.

  Money. Dispense the money.

  Nothing.

  “Hey, are you going to take all day?”

  Alec squared his shoulders and ignored the sharp comment. If this didn’t work, he’d have to try robbing someone and he really didn’t like that idea at all. He’d been holding the orb far too long now.

  Concentrate.

  Five hundred pounds. Come on. Give it to me.

  The sharp whir of the money dispenser almost made him shout. He opened his eyes to see the opening widen and a thick wad of paper notes protrude out. Alec didn’t waste a moment. He grabbed the cash, his heart hammering wildly, and ran.

  14

  Riley fell into an exhausted heap the second she materialized. Peter was still holding her hand. This transport thing was way harder than she’d ever thought possible and she had a dark suspicion that she’d probably still be at the side of the road if Peter hadn’t unknowingly helped. Not that she was about to tell him.

  She cracked open an eye. It was hard to tell exactly where she was as Peter was standing directly in front of her and his legs blocked her view. She leaned over weakly, pressing her forehead on his shins. She felt awful. She closed her eyes and waited for the vertigo to pass.

  There was a pleasantly cool breeze blowing and, somewhere nearby, the origin of the saltwater tang. There was grass under her hand and she let Peter’s hand go so she could rest both on the ground. In the distance, the low, lonely horn of a ship sounded.

  “Is this Vancouver?” Peter asked, his voice breathy and quivering.

  “Hope so,” Riley muttered. Any long conversation was likely to make her throw up. She took a shaky breath.

  “Any particular reason you brought us here?” Peter wasn’t using the scathing tone he normally spoke in. She could only imagine he was in shock. Teleporting did that to you. At least, the first time.

  “Yup.”

  “Because Alec won’t be here?”

  Alec. Her stomach flipped. Dear God, was he okay? Did he get away? Why had he kissed her? “Yup.”

  “Good idea. We’ve never been to British Colombia. It probably wouldn’t cross his mind to come here. How did you do that transport thing anyway? I want to learn.”

  “Gimme a second,” Riley murmured. Thoughts and emotions were screaming inside her head so loudly she could barely hear herself think. They were on the run. She didn’t have Darius with her. Alec was completely by himself. Where would they go? How long could they hide out? Had she kissed Alec back or just stood there like a complete idiot?

  “Sure. I don’t feel so great myself.” Peter’s legs moved away from her and he walked several feet away. Riley looked up. They were in a storage yard for shipping containers somewhere near the waterfront. Several empty railway boxcars dotted the landscape here and there in between the islands of scrappy weeds. Between them and the distant blue water was a high barbed-wire fence. The mist-shrouded mountains beckoned across the inlet. Somewhere nearby the thudding drone of a plane sounded overhead.

  Riley tried to think of the map of Vancouver she’d memorized before setting out for her sister Deborah’s place last July. Amend that, this coming July. And she hadn’t memorized it yet, in this reality, because she hadn’t left for out west until that lady at the concert attacked her and her exams were over. And that would be in another week.

  “What do we do now?”

  Peter was talking again. Riley shook her head to clear it but the wooziness persisted. She heard his footsteps crunching in the gravel. Maybe he’d find a coffee shop and bring her back a double espresso with a dash of peppermint flavouring?

  Barking started in the distance.

  Maybe he wouldn’t.

  The barking got louder. Didn’t some companies use dogs to guard their properties? Riley groaned.

  She had just gotten to her knees when the Alsatian rounded the corner of the nearest boxcar. Pebbles flew out from under its scrabbling paws. The dog was snarling. Riley could see how white the canines were.

  The dog charged.

  Riley was aware of the fleeting thought that animals responded to commands even in times of stress, and that a guard dog might halt if ordered. But her throat closed in with terror as the beast rushed her, saliva flecking from its jaws. She tucked her head with her hands and curled into a ball.

  “No, no. Go away.” Peter’s high-pitched cry came from somewhere far away.

  The first scream-inducing pain began in her right shoulder where the jaws clamped down. She was going to die, eaten by dogs in a shipping yard.

  Peter didn’t run away. Riley entirely expected him to. Hands gripped her, pushing and slapping the animal away. The hands plundered her body, searching
for something. The dog bit again.

  “Riley, your orb,” Peter shouted.

  Riley let go of her head for a moment and scrabbled to find the orb. It must be in her pocket. Think!

  Peter’s hand found it first. “Go away,” he shouted hoarsely.

  The barking stopped. For a moment there was utter silence. Then Riley heard the plaintive whine.

  Opening her eyes, she was astounded. Peter was holding her orb at arm’s length as if it was radioactive. The guard dog was laying on its stomach several meters away, a contrite and pathetic look on its face. The tail thumped in the dirt twice and then was still.

  “Is this you doing this, or me?” Peter’s voice cracked.

  “You.” Riley gasped with pain. Her shoulder was bleeding and she hurt in more places than she could count. Reaction engulfed her and she began to shake all over.

  “Cool,” Peter breathed.

  “Yeah, whatever.” Her teeth were chattering. The dog’s head lay on the ground between his paws and the gaze he gave would have melted her heart. If he hadn’t bitten her first.

  “Do you think I can make this dog do anything I want?” Peter’s grip on the orb hadn’t lessened. His head was cocked to one side and he seemed oblivious to her distress.

  “Just keep it away from me,” Riley groaned.

  “I don’t really like dogs.” Peter was chatting rapidly, as if the ideas couldn’t come out of his mouth fast enough. “All animals really. I just don’t get why people like them. I mean cats are basically evil. You can’t train them or anything. And they’ll eat you if you die. Alec was always bugging Mum and Dad for a dog. He loves them. Especially big dogs like this. But they make too much mess and are a lot of work. Are you hurt?”

  Riley got shakily to her feet. She pulled the orb slowly from Peter’s hand. The dog lifted its head but did nothing else.

  “Nothing that time won’t heal.” She gritted her teeth. Her shoulder was throbbing horribly. Hopefully Deborah had a good supply of painkillers and antibiotic cream. This was going to be a lousy day. “Tell it to stay,” she advised Peter.

  Peter shrugged. “Stay.”

  The dog whined again, as if mounting a feeble protest, then laid its head back down and closed its eyes.

  Peter took a step to the left. The dog didn’t move. Riley started to walk away. She held the orb tightly and Peter stayed right by her side, but the dog didn’t watch them. After several steps, both picked up speed, resisting the temptation to run. They rounded the closest container and both noticed the far gate of the facility in the distance. Wordlessly they headed for it.

  Riley was a bit surprised that no one rushed out of the portable that serviced as an office, and that the gates swung open at their touch. There wasn’t a car in the small parking lot or on the paved road that passed in front of the compound. It took a couple of moments to realize it was much earlier in the day here. Peter didn’t question her choice of turning left towards the distant city nor did he speak as they trudged along the side of the road. Riley was too uncomfortable to talk; she could only guess why Peter was so silent.

  It took nearly an hour until they’d entered the industrial area of the city and a cab passed by. Peter had to run out into the road to get it to stop. Riley was in tears as she collapsed in the back seat. She gave her sister’s address in a barely audible voice, clutching her orb and willing the cab driver to get them there quickly and for free. She was so uncomfortable when they arrived at the small, upscale apartment building she couldn’t speak. The cab driver didn’t ask for money. He peeled away from the curb the second Peter’s feet touched the pavement.

  Peter helped her up the steps to the tidy foyer where polished parquet flooring gleamed in the morning sunlight. Riley pushed the buzzer beside the calligraphied D Cohen and leaned against the wall. If Deb wasn’t home…

  “Hello?”

  “Deb, it’s me,” Riley gasped. “Let me in.”

  “Riley? Is that you? What are you doing here? I thought you were—”

  Riley buzzed again, holding her finger on the button. “Open up. Now.”

  “Jeesh, no reason to get snotty,” the disembodied voice muttered before the interior bevelled glass door gave an audible click.

  Peter pulled it open and allowed Riley to proceed. She mounted the marble steps slowly, pulling herself up each separate tread like an elderly woman. Thank goodness her sister only lived on the second floor. By the time Riley reached the wide, carpeted hall, the door of the closest apartment was open and a slim, dark-haired woman wearing a velour tracksuit unzipped to the pierced belly button was leaning out.

  “Oh my God. Riley, what happened?” The woman dashed out and grabbed Riley. She pulled her into the apartment and shoved the door closed with her hip. Peter just made it in before the door could slam shut on his fingers.

  “Dog bites,” Peter said before Riley could get the words out. “They might be infected by now.”

  “Wow.” Deborah pulled Riley down the hall of a light-filled space decorated by huge black and white pictures of attractive strangers posed provocatively. They entered the black and white tiled bathroom and Deborah shoved Riley onto the edge of a claw-footed bathtub.

  “Let’s see.”

  Riley barely heard Peter mutter something about waiting outside before Deborah yanked off her ruined tee-shirt. Deborah’s long hair brushed against Riley’s face as her sister peered at the wounds. Years ago they’d played hairdresser and Riley had spent hours brushing her sister’s hair. It was another life then.

  “I’m going to run a bath and dump some of the antiseptic stuff you gave me in that first-aid kit. I want you to have a good long soak. Then I’ll stick a few bandages on these. I’m guessing you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

  Riley wearily shook her head. They were taking a chance even being here. Darius knew she had a sister.

  “’Kay. Get your clothes off.”

  The bath was soothing and would have been much more pleasant without the smelly disinfectant, but Riley felt a million times better after she’d pulled the plug. She did her own dressings with the first-aid kit and donned one of Deborah’s tracksuits before heading to the living room. Deb was on the elliptical in front of the television. She had headphones on and had worked up quite a sweat. Knowing that nothing but a nuclear war—and then only if it was in her own backyard—interrupted Deb’s workout, Riley went into the kitchen. Peter was already there, the remains of breakfast in front of him. He was reading the paper.

  “Did you leave me anything to eat?” Riley peered inside the fridge. There wasn’t much. Deborah had very specific ideas about food, which generally meant as little as possible.

  “There’s a couple of eggs left. And some bread.” Peter nodded towards the counter. “Coffee if you want it.”

  “Please,” Riley replied knowing full well Peter hadn’t offered to pour her a cup. She swallowed the smile as he sighed and got out of his chair. “Did she ask you anything?” she queried as she popped two slices of bread into the toaster and took the eggs out of the fridge.

  “Just my name. I told her we were friends travelling together. She didn’t ask why you were here or anything.”

  “Okay. I just want to keep our stories straight.”

  Riley was just finishing wiping down the countertops when Deborah walked in. All the time in the bathroom had not been wasted; she looked like something from a fashion runway. Peter hovered by her shoulder.

  “We were mugged,” Riley began, before Deborah could ask. “Everything gone. Cards, money, ID. Both of us.”

  “Wow, that’s awful. Do you know who did it?”

  Peter raised his eyebrows at the question but said nothing.

  “We didn’t get his name. We were too busy looking at his gun. Can you help us or not?” Riley suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

  “Sure. But why don’t you just call Dad? He’ll wire some money.”

  Riley turned away. “No.”

  “Are you stil
l pissed about Alison?” Deborah brushed past and picked up her designer handbag that was slung casually over the back of a chair. “Honestly, Riley, grow up. He’s single. He can marry whomever he wants. It could be worse.”

  “She’s a complete cow, Deb. You know it. You’ve seen how she treats him. Ordering him around like some slave. She’s only a couple of years older than you. She wants to have a baby.”

  “If Daddy is stupid enough to reverse his vasectomy, he’s more than welcome to being up all night with a screaming kid. Rather him than me. Riley, you’ll be on your own in a few weeks. Why on earth should this matter so much to you?” Deborah pulled a lipstick from the interior of the bag and applied a generous coating to her lips while peering in the small mirror next to the door. “Look, I’ve got an audition this morning and I’m meeting Lionel for lunch. You and…” she paused to give Peter a vague look, “What did you say your name was?”

  “Peter.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry. You and Paul make yourself at home. Here’s my card. Take some moolah out of the bank, have a nice quiet day in town and we’ll talk over supper. ’Kay?” Without waiting for an answer, Deborah handed a card to Peter and slipped out the door in a cloud of perfume.

  Peter raised an eyebrow.

  “Say anything and I’ll bite you,” Riley muttered.

  15

  Alec stepped out of the fitting room and stared at his reflection with satisfaction. The new jeans were far tighter than his previous baggy ones and there was no chance these would fall down around his ankles if he had to run for it. The shirt was the softest cotton and the sky blue colour very flattering. The suede jacket fit him as if it had been specially ordered. This was much better, he told himself. He peered closer. He definitely looked older. Seventeen at least, maybe even twenty, if the light was right. He turned to check out the back of the jacket. Sophisticated. Riley would be impressed.