The Astral Traveler's Daughter

by K. C. Archer

Pyro thought about it, shook his head. “No. Just a feeling that it was hot. Like temperature.”

  “Where does that leave us?” Dara said. “We’ve all tried our hands at this psychometric business, and we’re no closer to finding them than when we started.”

  “Not everyone has tried yet,” Teddy said, looking to Jillian.

  Jillian released a stuttery sigh. “I’m better with animals than humans. And my powers haven’t helped locate anyone before.”

  Dara handed the glasses to Jillian. “For Eli, remember?”

  Jillian took the metal frames. Closed her eyes. Brow furrowed in concentration, she began to mutter, and cluck, and tweet . . . animal sounds? “Gophers, moles, coyotes. Desert tortoise. A greater sage grouse . . . A greater sage grouse.” She opened her eyes. Beamed at them all. “It’s familiar because we’ve been there before.”

  The Misfits looked at one another, wondering who would speak first. Teddy knew each of them had a very good idea where they would be headed next. And she was sure none of them wanted to return.

  Someone had to break the silence. “Pack your bags,” Teddy said. “We’re going to Jackpot.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  TEDDY AND HER FRIENDS RAN across campus. They couldn’t waste time taking the ferry into the city and then driving to Jackpot. Minutes mattered. They needed to get there fast. Teddy knew of only one person who would believe that Miles was being held on an officially retired base that was once the site of a top-secret military experiment gone awry. Someone who had been there himself.

  As they ran toward Clint Corbett’s office, Teddy spotted someone running right toward them.

  “Teddy! I was just coming to find you.” Henry Cummings, pink faced and out of breath.

  “No time, man,” Pyro said, pushing past him.

  “It’s—Wait—” Henry turned and ran alongside them like a lapdog nipping at their heels. Teddy saw something in his face that gave her pause. She stopped her dash and turned toward him. Her friends stopped with her. They created a small circle, all bending to clutch their knees and catch their breath.

  “Talk,” Teddy said, her chest burning.

  “You know I’m clairvoyant, right?” Henry said.

  “Yes, Henry, we know,” Dara said. “Very exciting. If you don’t mind—”

  Teddy held up her hand. She wanted to hear this. Alpha status notwithstanding, Henry wasn’t a bad guy. If he had ventured onto campus on Christmas Day to track her down, it had to be important.

  Henry’s heavy breathing finally slowed. “I’m not sure what it means, but I saw something. Or more like I have a message for you, Teddy.”

  “Dude, enough of the dramatics,” Dara said. “Spit it out. We’re on a clock, here.”

  Henry shook his head. “I’m just having trouble explaining it, okay?” He turned to Teddy. “A bomb. You’re supposed to let it—I don’t know how to say this. But you’re not supposed to stop it. You have to let it explode.”

  Teddy blinked. “What does that mean, Henry? When? Where? What bomb? Who’s triggering it? What does it look like? How does this help?” With a finger, she poked Henry’s chest at each question. She knew she was losing control of herself. But bombs had become a tense subject for her as of late. And so had ambiguity.

  “I’m sorry, that’s all I have,” Henry said simply.

  “You are one shitty oracle,” Dara said.

  They left him standing where he was and raced on. They found Clint behind his desk. Nick was there, too.

  “What is it?” Clint asked, coming to his feet the moment they burst into his office.

  “We know where Miles is,” Teddy said.

  * * *

  The roar of the helicopter’s blades was louder than Teddy could have imagined. Even with the required headgear on, she was nearly deafened by the rapid thumping of the rotors. Fortunately, it had taken far less convincing to get Clint and Nick on board than she’d thought it would. After she filled them in, Clint sprang into action, offering up use of a school helicopter. He told them he wasn’t sure Whitfield would provide consent quickly enough, so he went with “fly first and answer questions later.”

  Jackpot was a little over 550 miles as the crow flew, and a helicopter traveled at about 160 miles per hour. That would get them to the base in about three and half hours. Clint would accompany them to Jackpot, while Nick would inform Whitfield and Maddux of their plan. If they were going to an active base, they would need a general like Maddux to give them clearance. Nick would also see about getting a Jackpot FBI team mobilized to meet them there.

  And just like that, they were high above the vast desert, on their way to save Miles and Eli. They were floating, flying in a helicopter, just as Dara had envisioned. But did that mean the searing explosion she’d foreseen was coming next? Teddy was reminded how she’d heard hidden words in the repetitive drone of the air conditioner in her freshman-year dorm: Study, study, study or Vodka, vodka, vodka. Now, as the helicopter’s blades whirled above her head, she was hearing something else. Something that sounded very much like Beware, beware, beware.

  Teddy looked around at her friends on the flight. Pyro, Jillian, Dara, and Clint. She found it hard to believe that she had known them just over a year. There was no one she would rather go to war with.

  Clint sent her a reassuring nod. He seemed to be enjoying himself. Despite the dire circumstances, it probably felt good to be out of the classroom and back in the heat of things. Pun intended.

  A tinny voice crackled into her headset. “Sir, we do not have military clearance to land on the base,” the chopper pilot said. “We risk being fired upon if we enter the airspace. I can return to our point of origin, or I can let you off outside of the base’s regulated airspace.”

  Without hesitation, Clint pointed at the desert floor.

  * * *

  Teddy watched the helicopter tip and bank away, peeling off into the high blue sky. Clint had ordered the pilot to refuel and return to this spot within the hour. He’d tried to call Whitfield and Nick to see if they’d gotten Maddux to clear their visit to the base, but his phone didn’t have reception out here in the desert.

  “Now what?” Jillian asked.

  “Now we test all the endurance training we put you through this year,” Clint said.

  By the time they reached the main road, a thick film of sweat coated every inch of Teddy’s body. Sand stung her eyes. Her throat was so parched she couldn’t swallow. The desert heat was winning this battle, and it was a bloodbath. Nothing Boyd had thrown her way had prepared for this.

  Jillian tried to flag down the occasional passing motorist, but no one came close to stopping. “What is wrong with people?”

  Maybe it wasn’t the people driving by, Teddy thought. Maybe, given the Misfits’ current motley state, people were more inclined to lock their doors as they passed rather than pull over and offer them a ride.

  “We’ll never be able to walk all the way to Sector Three,” Dara said.

  “Wait a minute,” Jillian said. “What’s Pyro doing?”

  Teddy turned and saw Pyro rolling tumbleweeds and other debris into the road. Soon there was a large pile. With a flick of his finger, Pyro set it ablaze, blocking the road just as a giant semi was approaching.

  “Good thinking, recruit,” Clint said.

  The driver leaned out the window. “Accident?” he asked. “You folks all right?”

  “Just need a little help,” Clint said, stepping forward. Almost instantly, the driver’s eyes glazed over. Teddy watched, impressed by how quickly he could mentally influence someone. He was as powerful as Yates, though she rarely saw him exercise that power. She remembered the day they’d met in the Bellagio all those months ago. The way he had effortlessly shoved Sergei off her tail.

  They climbed into the cab. Pyro drove, heavy-footed at first, sputtering and stalling until he got the hang of the semi’s steering shaft. Whereas Yates would have left the driver by the side of the road, Clint signaled to drop
him off at a casino in Jackpot. He handed the man a crisp hundred-dollar bill and instructed him to play nickel slots until they returned. The casino doors had barely closed when they took off again.

  Pyro headed west on Main Street, leaving the town of Jackpot behind. He steered the truck onto the familiar dirt road, the truck shaking and bouncing with every divot and pothole.

  “There it is!” he shouted.

  The base looked much more active than it had at the end of summer. This time there was a proper checkpoint with a large metal gate guarding the entrance. Pyro pulled forward, then slowed to a stop. A soldier jumped out of his booth and approached the window. “State your business.”

  “We have clearance for a visit,” Pyro said. “From the Whitfield Institute.”

  “Who cleared you?”

  “General Maddux.”

  The soldier stiffened. He looked at Pyro for a long moment and then headed back to the booth.

  Worry gnawed at Teddy as she watched the guard lift a clipboard and flip through the pages. Picked up a phone to make a call. Nick should have reached Maddux by now. Surely they’d had time to alert the base.

  “Something’s wrong,” Pyro muttered.

  Clint’s gaze fixed on the guard. “Stay calm, Lucas. When he comes back, I’ll just kindly suggest he open the gate.”

  But Teddy suddenly knew that this man wouldn’t be coming back to speak with them. She could see his back tense and his hand tighten around the receiver while his other hand dipped toward his automatic weapon.

  “Back up! Back up!” Teddy shouted just as two more soldiers ran out, weapons raised.

  Pyro threw the truck into reverse, flying down the long driveway.

  Surprisingly, no military vehicles gave chase as Pyro sped away from the base. He pulled to a stop, dust floating all around them.

  “Now what?” Dara asked.

  “We go somewhere we have phone reception. I need to get in touch with Nick or Maddux. We are clearly not welcome on that base,” Clint said.

  “No! We can’t wait for that!” Jillian cried. “We’re running out of time!”

  Teddy knew she was right. They couldn’t wait for backup. For more phone calls and clearance. There was no time left. She turned to Pyro and put her hand on his arm. He looked at her for a long moment and then nodded. “It’s go time,” he said, and turned the truck around.

  Pyro revved the engine, slammed the gas pedal to the floor. They were driving eighty miles per hour when they smashed through the security gate. The guards scattered, and the metal crumpled like aluminum against the semi’s grille. Pyro let out a loud whoop. Teddy heard Clint laugh, a rare sound if there ever was one. She felt exhilarated and ready for anything as she pointed Pyro toward Sector Three.

  Until a tall woman with white-blond hair stepped into the path of the truck. Nilsson. She calmly held up her right hand.

  It was as if the truck hit an invisible brick wall. How had she managed it?

  The front of the cab crushed into itself, and the back of the truck somersaulted overhead. Teddy felt the entire world turning upside down and inside out. Time slowed, but Teddy wasn’t controlling it this time. She saw a flash of metal, her mother’s necklace, somehow thrown from her pocket. She reached for it, her hands curling around it, as if moving through mud.

  Then everything went black.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  TEDDY SNAPPED HER EYES OPEN in panic—the kind that came only when you overslept the morning before a big interview, or maybe a court appearance, only to realize you’d spent the previous night drinking vodka tonics like a sorority girl on the eve of her twenty-first birthday. She felt as though gravity had somehow shifted, pinning her limbs to the ground while at the same time propelling her brain through outer space. Groggy and faintly nauseated, she forced her eyes open and took in her surroundings. She was lying on the concrete floor of an unfamiliar room. Above her were white institutional tiles, rows of blinding fluorescent lights. The room was large but windowless, with just one desk in the corner. Behind it, a black leather armchair facing away from her. On the opposite side of the desk were two smaller tan swivel chairs.

  Teddy took a deep breath and forced herself to focus. The last thing she remembered was sitting in the truck with Clint and her friends. That was where her memory stopped. Ignoring her body’s protests, she eased herself upright. More troubling was that she couldn’t remember getting here. If she was actually in a here. Was she in a memory? Had she traveled? Fighting an escalating sense of panic, she tried to ground herself. Yes, that was why she felt simultaneously light-headed and bruised. She was outside her body. But where had she left it?

  A light, almost imperceptible swish coming from the corner desk caught her attention. The brush of a heel against the floor or an elbow against an armrest. A sound so soft she’d almost missed it. Teddy’s thoughts snapped to attention as the sound’s meaning was made instantly clear: someone was in the room with her. Her gaze shot to the black leather armchair. Whoever was seated there must have sensed she’d awakened, because the chair slowly swiveled in Teddy’s direction as if it held some sort of villain in a cheesy Bond movie.

  Except it wasn’t a villain.

  Her mother looked young, maybe mid-to-late twenties. She was dressed in the same square-shouldered jacket she’d worn in New York City in 1998.

  Whatever had happened in the truck had caused Teddy to travel to the past.

  At long last, she was face-to-face with her birth mother. Marysue’s gaze moved from Teddy to the room’s only door, which looked like military-grade metal and remained securely shut. Marysue’s lips parted as if she were about to speak. But she quickly collected herself. She sat up straighter. She knew Teddy was there. Was that even possible? Or was Teddy just projecting her desperate long-held desire onto the situation? No. Clint had told her that travelers could see one another. Teddy allowed herself to study her mother.

  Their eyes locked.

  Teddy swallowed against a fist-sized lump in her throat, unable to speak. When she was younger, she’d imagined this moment many times over. But as she’d grown, the emotions that surrounded the reunion had shifted. Joy, anger, pain, hate . . . and now relief. She’d spent months obsessively tracking Marysue. And now she was looking at the woman who had become so central to Teddy’s purpose. So central to the mystery of—well, everything.

  To this Marysue, Teddy was a stranger. Some random twenty-five-year-old with dark hair and weird clothes.

  But a twenty-five-year-old who looked very much like her. Maybe, just maybe, that would be enough for her birth mother to connect the dots.

  Please. Recognize me.

  Marysue’s eyes sharpened. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

  Teddy swallowed. Maybe she did know Teddy. Granted, she hadn’t expected such a cold greeting from her mother, but . . .

  “I—I’m not sure.”

  “You aren’t supposed to be here. Who sent you?”

  Teddy stood up and took a step toward her mother. “No one! I . . .”

  Marysue looked confused. “Then why are you here?”

  “Look, I’m not sure, either.” Teddy felt like she was in trouble. But she couldn’t tell if it was for crossing some sort of mother-daughter time-traveler boundary or for coming up against a PC agent. She cleared her throat, deciding to proceed on neutral territory. “I’ve been waiting to talk to you.”

  Marysue’s brow furrowed. “You’ve been tracking me?”

  “Yes, but not like you think, I—”

  Marysue stood. From her pocket she pulled out a knife—small but dangerous. “What am I supposed to think? You appeared out of thin air into a locked room. I know you’re a traveler.”

  Teddy’s head dropped. Marysue’s reaction wasn’t because she knew Teddy as her daughter. Just a psychic who shared her ability. One who had shown up at a questionable moment.

  Teddy struggled to find her next words. She wanted to tell her mother who she was
, but for once, she found herself speechless.

  Marysue stared solemnly at Teddy, eyes bright, muscles taut. “I don’t know why you’re here, but you shouldn’t be. They’ll find out. If they don’t already know. And it’s too late to help, if that’s why you’re here.”

  But it wasn’t too late. Couldn’t be. Otherwise, why would Teddy be here? Bracing herself, she took a deep breath and moved forward. She’d moved doors, moved time, moved across the country to restart her life, but that step felt like the boldest, bravest thing she’d ever done. With that step, she decided she would tell Marysue what she needed to know to change the time line in the present. Together they would prevent the PC from growing stronger in the past. Molly would never disappear. Miles would never be kidnapped. It was the only way Teddy could save the people she cared about. Butterfly effect be damned. Surely this was a workaround. This was why she’d been propelled back. And after, once she’d found the words to explain everything to Marysue, she would say: You can trust me, because I’m Theodora. Teddy. I’m your daughter.

  But before she could speak, before she could utter those longed-for words, the metal door burst open, and a man and woman dressed in combat fatigues entered the room. In a blink of an eye, the knife disappeared up Marysue’s sleeve. The small weapon was useless against these two powerful psychics—Stanton and Nilsson. Teddy recognized them both. Younger but still dangerous.

  Teddy tensed, but they looked right past her, unable to see her, and surrounded Marysue.

  Stanton said, “The colonel’s not happy with you.”

  “I’m not happy with the colonel,” Marysue said. In one lithe movement, she slid the desk drawer shut.

  Stanton seemed momentarily taken aback by her defiance. He took a step closer to her—a not so subtle threat. Nilsson walked around the desk. She seated herself in the armchair that Marysue had vacated, lounging against the black leather as if it were a throne. A smug smile curved her lips. “At what point did you assume your feelings were important to anyone?”