“Come on, Dmitri. You can do it,” I say. When he doesn’t move, I push on his feet.
He starts to move again. But very slowly.
Sounds coming from behind me. The beating of a drum. No, not a drum. Footsteps. Pounding footsteps. They’re coming! Frank’s goons have figured things out and are heading to the basement. But they won’t see the shaft, will they? They must not see it.
I continue inching forward. Another sound, but this time coming from ahead of me. “Caleb.” Someone is calling my name. Inside my head.
“Abbie,” I say.
“We’ve got a problem,” she says.
“What is it?”
“The recruit at the front says the way out is blocked by an iron grate. I tried timeleaping ahead of him but it didn’t work. I’m going to try to get up there to see what I can do.”
Noises behind me—the goons have found the vent, and they’ve opened it!
“Hurry,” I say.
I take a deep breath to calm myself. Panic is knocking at the door, and if I let it in, it’s all over. I should never have listened to Phoebe. This isn’t a way out . . . it’s a death trap.
A loud bang from up ahead interrupts my thoughts. Someone yells.
Then more shouting, except this time coming from behind.
Can’t go forward. Can’t go back. Someone is whimpering, and I realize with dread that the sound is coming from my throat.
My legs are cramping badly. But there’s nothing I can do.
“Cale, I managed to kick it out! We’re all out now, except for you and Dmitri—”
Adrenaline shoots through me, pushing back the panic. “We’re coming!”
Dmitri begins to move again, but ever so slowly.
“Dmitri,” I say, “you have to move faster!”
There is a bit of light now in the crawl space. That must mean we’re getting close to the end. But then, from behind me someone says, “I can see his feet.”
I scramble forward, bumping into Dmitri. There’s no way I’m going to let them catch up to us.
Grunts are coming from my pursuers. Come on, Dmitri!
Then a shaft of light filters in and Dmitri’s feet are no longer ahead of me. He must have done it!
I crawl forward and almost pitch off into empty space. But there are hands there, helping guide me out.
My feet land on tracks. I gaze around. We’re inside a subway tunnel. All of the recruits are standing close by with their backs against the wall.
“Abbie, they’re right behind us! Which way to the Canal Street subway station, Phoebe?”
“That way,” she says helpfully.
“Phoebe!”
“All right . . . go left.”
We race along the tracks. The only sounds are our ragged breathing and the constant dripping of water on the tracks.
I feel a vibration under my feet. At first I ignore it but then the vibration is accompanied by a low rumbling sound.
“Everyone against the wall!” I shout.
The rumbling gets louder and louder.
Light fills the tunnel and a subway train is bearing down on us. A whistle sounds, and I’m thinking this is all going to work out—the train’s safety sensors will detect us and then it will slow down to a crawl and pass us.
But the train doesn’t slow. If anything, it picks up speed as it heads toward us. The sound is deafening. I hug the wall and close my eyes. The train roars by inches from me.
I watch as the train’s rear lights recede. My ears are ringing, and my legs are trembling so badly, it’s a miracle I can still stand on them.
Along the wall, no one else is moving. It’s as if we are all frozen.
I push myself forward, away from the wall. “Come on. We can’t stay here.”
I look back the way we came. Laser-thin beams of light shoot from the shaft. Then I hear shouts. Uncle, Frank and their goons!
I pry the last of the recruits off the wall, and we hurry down the tracks. Every few yards someone falls in the dark and has to be helped up. Glancing over my shoulder, I notice the cluster of lights moving in our direction.
They’re gaining on us.
October 9, 2061, 12:37 A.M.
Subway Tracks near Canal Street Station
SoHo, New Beijing (formerly New York City)
I see it, Cale!” relays Abbie over my patch. “The station.”
And then another voice is in my head, an eerily calm one, saying, “Tell everyone to stop and turn around. If you do so right now, none of you will be harmed.”
A second later, Uncle’s voice continues, “But if you carry on, when we catch you it will go much worse for everyone and especially for you, Caleb. And have no doubt that we will catch you.”
Sweat breaks out on my forehead. What if he’s right? What if in a few minutes he captures us anyway? What would I have gained? Nothing. But I would have put the lives of the recruits in danger. I have no right to do that.
“Cale, quickly, help the last of them up onto the platform,” Abbie says.
As I boost the smallest recruit onto the subway platform I hear a rumbling sound. A train is pulling into the station.
Behind me, blue light flashes, and someone cries out. I quickly push the last recruit onto the platform and then pull myself up.
There are people on the platform; New Beijingers. Some are staring at us, and others are shouting. Fine with me. So long as they don’t interfere.
Interfere with what? With our escape? But there is no escape. I should have known all along. There’s no escaping Uncle. Maybe if we all turn ourselves in now, things will go easier for us. No! That’s not me talking. He’s inside my head trying to get me to give up. But I won’t. An image of Zach at home in Boston flashes through my mind.
The train pulls into the station, and the doors open. We race to the first car and I herd all of the recruits inside. Dmitri sprints to the control booth.
Just then, there’s a loud boom.
“Everyone down!” I yell. I drop to the floor as a window shatters.
Seconds later, I hoist myself up and peer out the smashed window. Uncle and some goons are only fifteen feet down the platform.
Dmitri is shouting something. Let him. It makes no difference.
Uncle’s voice is in my head again.
“You can’t escape. The subway train has been disabled.”
He’s right. There’s no escape. We’re in a tin can that’s going nowhere. The lights of the subway car are full on, and I watch dumbly as Uncle and his thugs approach. And there’s Frank, standing behind and to Uncle’s right, whispering something to him. But as he does, there’s a burst of blue light, and unbelievably, Uncle is falling. Someone cries out, and I can’t tell if the scream is in my head or not.
More shouting. I’ve got to figure out what to do. And quickly.
Frank smiles as he walks toward us, heading up the column of thugs. Someone shouts something, and the doors of our subway car close.
Dmitri’s voice rises above everything. “Everyone, I have reconfigured the subway car’s operating system to draw power directly from all wristbands arranged in parallel formation. Hang on to an immovable object!”
What is he talking about?
And then I see why Frank is smiling. He’s dragging someone by the hair. No, it can’t be. She can’t be with him, because she’s here. On the subway car. But where? I look desperately around but don’t see her.
Frank yanks his arm forward and shows me her face.
It’s Abbie!
She’s struggling to reach her wrist, but Frank’s got her firmly in his grip.
“T minus thirty seconds,” shouts Dmitri.
“Let her go!” I yell through the shattered window.
If anything, Frank tightens his grip on her.
Ice-
cold anger fills me. I start moving toward the window. Glass shards cut my arms and legs as I step through, but I hardly feel them.
Abbie’s voice is inside my head. “Don’t, Cale. Think of the others. This is their chance!”
“I’m not leaving you!” I mindshout. “Let her go, Frank,” I repeat. “Take me instead.”
“How noble.” He laughs.
I hold my arms out as I approach. Beyond Frank, I see some movement. Uncle is stirring. One of his hands disappears under his hanfu.
“There is only one trade I’m making, Caleb,” Frank continues. “Abbie for all of the recruits.”
I keep walking forward. I will not let her die because of me.
Blue light flashes. Frank’s smile morphs into a grimace.
Another flash. Someone goes down.
Ragged breathing comes over my mindpatch.
“I cannot reverse the process, Caleb,” Dmitri mindshouts. “You must return immediately! We will be departing in seven seconds!”
Footsteps pounding toward me.
Abbie!
“Quickly!” I grab her hand, and we turn to race back to the subway car.
But something is happening to the car. It’s fading.
I can’t believe it! Dmitri is actually doing it. He’s transporting the entire subway car through time!
Abbie and I are too late.
Or are we?
I stop running and tap out a quick sequence on my wrist. Three seconds back in time, thirty feet forward in space.
Squeezing Abbie’s hand, I look into her eyes. They shine with fierce determination. This has to work.
Our gazes stay locked together as the timeleap takes us away.
Time-Space Vortex
Nothing but blackness. The only thing I can hear is the pounding of my heart. It feels like I’m falling and falling but not landing.
Nassim told me about this place once, but I hadn’t believed him. He had said that there was a place—a no-man’s-land—in between time and space. A kind of black hole opens up in the time-space continuum.
It happens very rarely, he had said. Only once in every one hundred thousand timeleaps.
Is that where I am now? Time trapped in the in-between place? I close my eyes and open them again. No change. I can’t see a thing. Or feel anything. I try but am unable to mindpatch Abbie.
Time passes. It is impossible for me to know how long. A second? A day? A year?
Then a rushing sound. A tremendous force pulls at me.
Something changes, and I’m looking down at myself from a great height. Am I dead?
I can see Abbie. We are still holding hands, but barely. Only by three fingers. The huge force is trying to rip us apart. “Hold on,” I try to shout, but there is still no mind connection between us. The pressure is tremendous, and two of my fingers slip away from hers. Now our link is only one finger.
A roar explodes in my ears, and my hands reach up to block out the sound. But that can’t be, because if my hands are blocking my ears, that means they’re not holding on to Abbie!
I feel myself slipping away. Can’t hold on to my thoughts. Fighting the darkness. Fighting the force . . .
. . . of the wind that comes rushing through my bedroom window. I ignore it and lie in my bed gazing up at the ceiling. There is a crack in the plaster that I never noticed before. I follow the path of the crack across the ceiling and down the wall almost to the floor. But the long crack doesn’t quite reach the floor. It stops just short. Right above a pair of shoes. The shoes are ancient—black leather, creased and cracked. There is a red streak on one of them. I shudder. The wind howls, and as I sit up, I see branches sprouting off the ceiling crack—a spiderweb of cracks, growing out in all directions. And then the shoes are lifting right off the ground, spinning out of control and hitting the walls, creating more cracks. The bed beneath me lurches, and I’m thrown into the air moments before the bed is swallowed by the biggest crack of all. The spinning shoes are morphing into something—a gloved hand, black as night. The hand reaches down toward me even as I fall, grabbing me and shaking me.
“Caleb, wake up!”
I open my eyes.
Abbie is there, kneeling in front of me.
I stare at her for a moment, seeing but not understanding. And then it all comes flooding back: the escape, the tracks, the subway car, Uncle and Frank.
“Where are the others?” I say, panic rising.
“Everyone’s here—inside the subway car—including us,” she says, smiling.
Abbie moves to one side, and I can see the gaggle of recruits, some looking our way with concern on their faces.
A screen above me comes on. “I see the patient is up.”
Phoebe’s persona is a doctor in a white lab coat. A stethoscope hangs from her neck. A button on her coat says VAMPIRES SUCK.
I sit up. “Where are we?”
“Central Park, 2061,” says Abbie. “There are a few New Beijingers we have to drop off before we get going.”
A bell chimes, and the doors of the subway car open. I watch as a parade of dazed-looking people step from the train out onto the grass.
The chime sounds again, and the doors close.
“Caleb?” Dmitri calls from the control booth.
“What’s up?”
“I believe the wristbands will continue to provide sufficient thrust but if it is all right with you and Abbie, as a backup I would like to siphon some power from your time patches. If you are agreeable, I can manage this remotely so that your patches do not need to be removed.”
“It’s fine, Dmitri,” I say, glancing at Abbie, who nods. “Do what you have to do.”
“Excellent. Consider it . . . done.”
“First stop, Uruguay, June 27, 1910,” says Phoebe. “To drop off Recruit Lorena.”
My eyes go wide. We’re actually doing it!
“Hang on,” calls Dmitri from the control booth.
I curl my fingers around a pole and close my eyes.
Seconds later, I open them. Through the window I see endless fields and grass as high as my shoulder.
The chime sounds, and Phoebe announces, “Lorena, this is your stop.”
The doors open, and a breeze rushes through the car, bringing with it the fragrant smell of eucalyptus.
The light is so bright, it hurts my eyes to look out.
A slight girl steps forward. She looks bewildered at first, but then a smile spreads across her face. She leaps from the car and races along a path between the stalks of grass toward a small cabin.
A woman steps from the cabin, sees her and runs to greet her. They embrace and the girl’s mother, for that is who she must be, takes a step back and stares at the girl’s clothes. But the next moment she hugs the girl again.
I feel my eyes watering. I want to see more, but the subway car’s doors are closing.
Before the timeleap takes us away, Phoebe rattles off the names of about twenty recruits and tells them to get ready.
This time we land in what at first glance looks like a large parking lot. But then I recognize where we are: the large square in Beijing, China, where I almost snatched the flag of the Great Friendship before Frank butted in.
The twenty jump out when the doors open. This must have been Uncle’s favorite recruiting time/place. I watch as the recruits run across the square, finding and then flinging their arms around family members. Some of the parents have relieved expressions on their faces but others don’t react at all . . . It’s as if they didn’t even know their kids were missing.
There must be over five hundred people in the square, and it seems like all of them are making a beeline for our subway car. Time to leave.
“Where to next, Phoebe?” I ask.
She consults her list. “I can’t read this one.”
�
�What do you mean you can’t read it?” I say. “Aren’t you the one who made the list?”
“Are you saying my handwriting is messy?”
“Not at all,” I say, backtracking.
By now people have gathered around the subway car. Some are looking for a way in.
“Hold on,” Phoebe says. “I can read it now. Anchorage, Alaska. January 3, 1899.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Did you get that, Dmitri?”
There’s no answer from the control booth.
“Dmitri?”
As I walk over to the control booth, I can tell something isn’t right.
The figure hunched over the controls looks too tall to be Dmitri. When I peer through the small glass window, I see another figure slumped on the floor of the control booth. It’s Dmitri! But then who is . . .
The person at the controls turns his head toward me and smirks.
Frank!
I pull on the door, but it won’t open. He must have locked it from the inside.
I kick at it and then pound my fist against it. Nothing.
Everyone else in the car must have heard the commotion, because they’re all gathered around the door now.
“Abbie, we’ve got to get in and stop him!” I shout.
She unleashes a side kick at the door. It vibrates but stays intact. Another well-aimed kick rocks the door, but that’s all.
Abbie gathers her strength for a third try. This time she lets loose with a vicious front kick. There’s a screech of metal, and the door flies open.
I open my mouth to say something, but before I can, several angry recruits are pushing past me, trying to get at Frank.
They grab him, pry his hands off the controls and drag him from the booth. Fists pummel his body, and legs kick him. He tries to shield himself from the worst of the kicks, but all he accomplishes is getting his hands kicked as well.
If they don’t stop, they will kill him.
My eyes flick from the mob attacking Frank to the figure lying on the floor of the control booth.
Time Trapped Page 23
