by Claire Davon
Fiona grabbed for Sonder’s hand. He took it, still looking at Illiria with a grim, set expression. The boy Rogald stood a few feet off, staring at the three of them. He looked out of place in his baggy shorts, backwards cap and Fox Sports t-shirt.
Unsure what she was supposed to do about Rogald, Fiona focused on the depiction of the 1950s streetcar. It would provide a good getaway, if nothing else. She felt the image form in her mind and started to get a fix on their new destination. She pictured Cleveland Circle, summoning up her memories of it and used the picture to create an image of the nineteen fifties version.
“Sonder. Rogald has to go with you.”
Sonder looked at Illiria, and to Fiona’s surprise, he nodded. He reached over and grabbed the back of Rogald’s shirt. The boy yelped and squirmed in Sonder’s grip. The room started to fade. Illiria pushed at Rogald, throwing him off balance and into Sonder’s grasp. Rogald shouted, a cry of “help” torn from his lips.
The Commander was formed, and Fiona could see that he was beginning to move. If they were lucky, they would be in time. She hoped he wouldn’t be able to get a shot off before they were gone.
“I’m sorry, Rogald.” Illiria said. “This was supposed to happen differently. The time streams are out of sync now, and they need to come together. However it happens, they must reunite.”
The Commander began to move even as they were pulled into the time vortex, Illiria’s words echoing. She heard an angry shout behind them, a cry of fury and inarticulate wrath. The Commander’s rage made a frisson of fear go through Fiona. She didn’t know what she’d done to cause it, aside from being the Traveler.
Then the three of them whirled away into the blackness, the familiar dark that was never easy. In this case, away from the Commander, it was a welcome sight.
Chapter 8
“Hello, Fiona.”
The T-stop looked like its picture, a patch of ground and rails cut into the middle of Beacon Street. There was mist covering the ground. Looking around, she saw that everything was shiny and bright, and empty of people.
She whirled, expecting to see Sonder, but it wasn’t his voice. She knew that it, though. It was the older version of the boy they’d jumped with to this new time.
Rogald stood nearby, at the end of the area designed for passengers, far enough away to try and look harmless, but close enough to be heard. Rogald’s belt alarm was slowly beeping and the crystal on his wrist device was clear. They were safe, for the moment.
Behind him, a few paces away, was Sonder. He looked a little ragged, like the time jump had affected him worse than it normally did. Fiona frowned and walked towards him. He seemed insubstantial, as if he wasn’t all there. Illiria was nowhere to be seen. Fiona remembered that whatever happened, their devices would always take them home. If Illiria had exhausted all other options, she would be able to get to base.
The teenaged version of Rogald looked around wildly, first at Fiona and then at the older man, and finally to the street around them. “What the fuck?”
She followed his gaze, taking in the landscape around them. She had done it. She had used the old picture in her mind to get to Cleveland Circle in the past. Using pictures to shift had become routine in the months she’d been with Sonder. She wasn’t that surprised she had been successful. The Commander’s presence had distracted her but not enough to lose their way in a jump this simple. Illiria’s picture was sharp and clear, and still in her hands. Fiona folded it and stuck it in her jeans back pocket. The stop was both familiar and foreign to her. It had been a regular meeting place growing up, full of fun things for teenagers to do. Now there were a handful of different, unfamiliar shops. The Reservoir Carhouse, as it was called, where the subway cars were housed at this final terminus, was already in existence in this era. It looked very different than how it looked in her time, however. She had snuck into that way station a time or two, marveling at the empty, forbidding looking hulks at rest. They looked strange bereft of passengers, and their dark metal interiors had spooked her so much she decided after two visits that that was enough.
There was something wrong with Sonder. She dug deep into her memory, trying to figure out if she’d felt anything unusual about the blackness, or if their wild race away from the Commander had been somehow altered. It was an easy jump and should have been simple to shift all three of them, even with the last minute addition of the teenager. He didn’t look right and she wondered if she had misjudged her abilities. If it was too far for him she would need to get him out of here fast.
“Fiona,” Rogald said urgently, tapping her to get her attention. The younger Rogald looked like he wanted to turn and run. “Go to Sonder. Touch him. This is right on the edge of his ability to jump. He might be too far away. We may have shift him out of here and back to a later time. I hoped…I thought…with you here…we went to the Event with no ill effects…” He trailed off, looking between the younger boy version of himself and the Guardian. He started pressing buttons, clearly triangulating something.
Fiona ran to Sonder and put her hand in his. It felt not quite solid, like their fingers weren’t going to touch. She wanted to scream, panic rising in her. Fiona gathered strength, fixing her Brazil image in her mind, in her previous, later time. She saw the giant figure of Jesus and it was big and real. She would send Sonder there. It didn’t matter if the Commander was there, or if a whole battalion of Guardians were there to greet Sonder. If he was going to fade, she would take him to Brazil and damn the consequences.
His hand slid into hers and to her relief, he felt solid. She nearly sobbed with joy. Sonder turned to her, his normally stoic expression looking a little peaked.
He looked behind her, to the teenager standing off to one side. The boy had his arms folded, but his eyes were wild.
“Sonder, I’m going to get you out of here,” Fiona said, tugging at his arm. Her stomach protested the movement and she realized she was a bit time sick, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the scary feeling when she’d seen Sonder begin to look insubstantial.
“No,” he said firmly. He took his hand out of hers, although she tried to cling to it, and to her relief he didn’t fade. She was prepared to throw her arms around him, shield him with her body if necessary. “I,” he paused. “I feel okay. That was strange. I’ve never jumped near my limit before.”
It had been stupid, it had been so silly, to put him at risk like that. She watched him for long moments. Finally, when he remained solid, she relaxed. A little. “Sonder, please tell me if you start to feel wrong. I’ll get you out of here right away.”
He nodded, and then his eyes turned to the two Rogalds.
“I’m sorry, Fiona,” Rogald said. “I wasn’t thinking.” He paused. “But…you were here…you are here…this is what happened, well, now anyway. He’ll be okay. You have my word.”
The man had correctly ascertained the depths of her feelings for Sonder. For someone she had only spent a little time with, he was remarkably astute.
Rogald the elder looked at Fiona. “You have so many powers, Fiona. You jumped me to the Event and I didn’t fade. As long as you are with him, Sonder can be outside of the hundred year time limit. We all can.”
He looked back at the younger version of himself. Fiona didn’t think it was possible for the two of them to be there together. This, it seemed, was where Rogald’s story started and damn the paradox. Fiona’s mind spun. She wasn’t sure what else was possible, but the implications were staggering.
“That’s freaky, Rogald,” she said, and both men’s heads went up. Yeah, that was strange. “That means that people are going to want me for more than just being the Traveler. That means…” she paused, “the Commander may say he wants me dead, but does he? If he caught me, if he forced me, he could change anything he wanted. My god.” She put her hand on Sonder again, wanting the reassurance that he was present, and remained solid. His belt was beeping and despite the danger with it on, the sound reassured her.
/> “Yes. I think you’re right.” Rogald studied his younger self. She saw that the Liberator had a backpack slung over his back, with a valise of some sort peeking out. It looked old fashioned, but then she realized that it wasn’t out of place here, in this time frame. It looked like something she would see in a Spencer Tracy movie, complete with sharp three piece suit and spats.
There were no sneakers in this era. No ball caps. She smiled a little, thinking of younger Rogald’s attire and how out of place it was here.
“You’re going to have to trust me, Rogald. You will be okay.”
“Where the fuck are we? Who the fuck are you? What happened?”
He looked like he wanted to turn and run, and Fiona wouldn’t be surprised if he acted on that.
“I’m sorry, Rogald,” she said to the younger version. “I really am.”
The boy glared at her. “Where are we?”
The buildings looked so different, so sparse, the cars like something out of a mobster movie. There was the Circle theater, but vastly changed from what she remembered of it. The municipal pool wasn’t there. She could see the glint of water off to her left and decided the reservoir was, though. The pizza place, the multiplex, the bars, all gone. There was the curve of the hill towards Boston College, but it was mostly empty of the thick stream of cars she was used to. It was so familiar, and so different.
Cleveland Circle. It was the end of the trolley car line, or the beginning, depending which way you were going. Technically it wasn’t in Brookline, but she hadn’t realized that growing up. It was just where they went to go to the pool, or the theater, or the reservoir. They loved to walk around the path there, and toss rocks into the water that serviced the surrounding towns.
She didn’t understand what made Illiria give her the picture of the streetcar on her old familiar line. This made the third time she’d interacted with the subway cars along this particular section of Brookline, if she counted the time she had been brought back from the Event. There had to be a reason Illiria had done it, but she didn’t know why. Illiria had told her the Guardians had staked out her familiar places and handed her this picture instead. She had looked so sad, so upset when she had looked at Rogald that Fiona doubted Illiria had been lying. Something was there, a mystery she thought she might need to unwind before this became clearer.
Time started again, a jolt of sensation, and then people reappeared around them. The wind blew in small circles, tousling their hair. She had thought air in this time frame would be crisp and sweet but it smelled of oil and grease and she decided that was from the car barn. There was no EPA in this era, Fiona realized. One more myth of the past shattered. It was quiet, at least far quieter than she was used to for Cleveland Circle, with only handfuls of cars dotting Beacon Street. There was a trolley car beginning its turn to the stop and she knew that it would be accepting passengers in a few minutes.
Rogald nodded toward the approaching car. With a quick movement, he pressed something against the younger man’s arm and then jumped back, as if burned.
“You have to get on that – Fiona, what are they called?”
“Trolleys.” She knew that the names subway cars, or streetcars, were more appropriate, especially in this time frame. She’d always referred to them as trolleys, something she thought she picked up from her grandparents.
“Trolley.” The teenager was looking at the older man in stark disbelief.
Rogald handed him the valise, careful not to touch the boy again. The boy accepted it, practically snatching it out of the man’s hand.
“What the fuck?” It seemed to be all the younger Rogald could say.
“Get on that car, Rogald. Your life in the twenty first century no longer exists. This,” he nodded to the package he’d handed the boy and Fiona that the valise, suitable to this time frame, bulged. She suspected that the older Rogald had overstuffed it until it groaned. The younger Rogald poked at an outer pocket. “This will give you everything you need.”
The trolley car drew closer, the brakes making a loud, metallic squeal. People began crowding the line and Fiona had a flash of déjà vu, remembering the first time she’d discovered her abilities as the Traveler.
“Who the fuck are you?” The teenager’s eyes narrowed. “You my uncle or something?”
The older man just smiled. “Get on the trolley, Rogald. Get into those clothes as soon as you can. The train goes underground in a few miles. You should change in the bathrooms when you can. There are things in there that will help you blend in.”
The younger man reached in and pulled out a sheaf of bills. They were strange to Fiona’s eyes. They looked like American currency, but different. He glanced at the approaching car and then slung the pack over his shoulder.
“Screw that. I’m out of here.” He turned as if to run and Rogald looked at Fiona.
“Fiona, stop him. Stop them all. Everyone except us.”
“Rogald,” she began, and both man and boy turned. She looked at the older version. “How is this possible? Should you be here?”
He shook his head. “This happened twenty years ago, for me.” Her mind spun. “This is what made me who I am. This has to happen again.”
People were looking at them strangely and she knew there would be buzz on the trolley car about the weird people at Cleveland Circle. Perhaps even a call to the local police. They didn’t have much time.
“Aren’t you…isn’t this a paradox? Shouldn’t one of you…you know?”
He chuckled, shaking his head before she could finish the thought out loud. What she had wanted to say is if one of them shouldn’t wink out into non-existence since they were the same person occupying the same time. In a sudden move he ran to Rogald and hit him on the head so hard the other version cried out and began to collapse.
“Stop time. Now.” He nodded to the younger man.
She wasn’t sure she could. Fiona felt a buzzing in her ears. Raising her arms as she had before, she tried to invoke the feeling of time stopping. She was never sure how she did it before, only that she had.
The buzzing increased and everything stopped, including the younger Rogald. Sonder and the older Rogald version were unaffected. She cocked her head at the Rogald she knew. The younger Rogald remained frozen, caught in the act of falling.
She looked at the men, who were moving to the teenager. The rest of the people were in stasis, locked into going about their everyday activities. One near them was looking at his watch, an impatient look on his face and she speculated about where he was rushing to. She wondered if her grandparents knew this man in this time. Maybe he was the relative of someone she knew now. She’d love to know his story, and who he was important to. She looked around. What if her grandparents were there? Would she know them? There was a woman with a stroller, dressed in the fashion of this day, but slightly threadbare. She had a parasol and comfortable shoes. The stroller looked worn, older, and Fiona idly speculated if she had other children. Maybe she was someone Fiona’s grandparents knew, or the grandparent of someone she knew. There was a shopkeeper, a short distance away, chasing away a stray dog who had a bone in its mouth. His overalls were dirty white and stained with blood. In her mother’s time there used to be a butcher up Beacon Street from them, although his shop had closed by the time Fiona was ten. She wondered if there was any relation between the men.
So many people. They would be unaffected if she didn’t do anything about the Event, but their descendants would be destroyed. All the life threads would end if she failed to act. She’d seen it – she knew it. This responsibility had been given to her, whether because she had been born with these powers or because they had been granted to her. It was her job to find out the cause, and stop it.
Fiona staggered, the enormity of what they were facing finally hitting her. She thought she’d known what it meant to be the so-called Traveler, but she hadn’t. There was only one person who could stop the Event from happening, and that person was her. Maybe the Voice could help and mayb
e it couldn’t, but it seemed without her they had no chance.
“Now what?” she asked. Sonder went to the younger man and Fiona watched him carefully, afraid to see him fade again.
“That pack. When he wakes up he will be in some stop underground. He won’t know how he got there. It will all be as if it was a dream. He wonders if he’s going crazy.” Rogald shook his head. “It’s not quite right. The Commander tried to change it. Right now I have two memories, overlaid, one of what happened and one as it’s happening now. I’ve had time discrepancies happen before, but they have never hit so close to home. It’s strange.” He looked at Fiona. “It was an accident, the first time. Sonder wanted to see where you came from, understand your home town. You thought the nineteen fifties would be safe. I overheard and swooped in, not realizing what I was doing by tagging along.” He sighed.
Fiona looked at him and then turned to the younger man. She had stranded him in time, it appeared. The original version of that happening no longer existed. It had never transpired for her. Even though the outcome was the same, the fact that Rogald had a memory of her she didn’t share, and would never share, was unnerving.
Sonder tugged on the boy and he gave sluggishly, as if the time freeze didn’t want to give up its victims. Fiona had no idea how long it would hold. Already she could hear a creak far off in the distance, like small cracks were appearing in the stoppage. It was still, so still that not even the wind was moving. Rogald moved to his younger self.
“Sonder, your help, please. I don’t want to touch him.”
Sonder nodded and pulled on the sneaker that was on Rogald’s foot. Fiona went to him and took off the other one. Rogald gave like he was a wax statue. The going was slow, but manageable. The elder version watched from a short distance away, looking pained. Sonder took charge after a look at Fiona, stripping the younger man of his clothes and putting the new ones on him. Fiona helped where she could, keeping watch on the time stream.
