The car moved at a steady pace and carried a strong musky smell. It was spotless all over, like it hadn’t been driven in months. Our driver was white-haired and thickset, probably in his mid-fifties. After a few turns, we ended up on a winding road. After about ten miles, we drove through what looked like a park before reaching a large set of gates. We stopped while the gates opened. We drove up a steep hill, and even in the dark I could see acres and acres of land around us.
We drove for a few more miles before a magnificent house came into view. It was pearl-white, with thick trees all around it. Two huge marble fountains stood on either side of a sprawling driveway accommodating five cars. Our driver parked behind a Mercedes SUV and stepped out. He was even larger than I’d thought, at least six-five. We all sat in the car and waited. The driver looked toward the front door as if waiting for someone to come out and give him further instructions. The porch light came on and the twelve-foot black door opened. I squinted to get a better look. A big burly man pushed another man through in a wheelchair. The man pushing was probably in his forties, with jet-black hair and full sleeves of tattoos across his arms. The man he wheeled looked frail, maybe sixty-five or seventy years old. He had long thinning white hair and looked so thin that I feared that if the wheelchair fell to the ground, he would break into pieces.
Michael opened the door and approached them. The rest of us remained in the car and watched. Michael leaned down and hugged the old man, who looked to be in pain from the force with which Michael hugged him, as if he were a long-lost relative. I opened my door, and the others followed suit. I leaned toward Mandy. “Will you be okay for a second?”
She smiled and nodded. I got out and walked forward with the others, toward Michael. We went past the man who had driven us here. He kept his gaze on Michael and the old man. Michael rose when we drew nearer and urged us forward.
“Everyone, meet Chip Angelo, my mentor and godfather.”
We all looked at Chip, but silence remained. I stepped forward and held my hand out. “Nice to meet you, Chip.”
He studied me as if he had never seen a woman before. Then a wide, almost-haunting grin stretched across his wrinkled face. “I like this one, Michael.”
Michael sniggered in embarrassment. I could feel my cheeks turning red.
“How long have—”
“I’m just helping her, nothing more.”
Chip laughed. “Of course.” He coughed and started waving his hands. “Please, make yourself at home. Whatever you’re into, no one will find you here.”
I gave Michael a confused glance. He just shook his head.
“So, who needs the medical attention?” Chip said.
Michael looked at all of us before facing Chip again. “She’s in the car. It’s not as serious as we thought.”
“We still got to make sure,” Chip said. He turned toward the house. “Mitch!”
We all watched the entrance for almost a minute. A thin bald man with round glasses ran out with a leather bag. Chip just nodded toward the SUV. The thin man ran forward and helped Mandy out. She smiled at us just before she entered the house. Then she was gone.
“That will be all, Charles,” Chip said to the thickset man who’d driven us. Then he urged the muscular man to wheel him back into the house. We all followed behind.
The house was just as spectacular inside as it was outside. It was filled with wood that varied in color, from red through various shades of brown. Chip said it was all Brazilian rosewood, one of the most expensive types of wood, and I believed him. The rugs were Persian and looked every bit as impressive as the wood. The kitchen alone was the size of a small shop. I kept running my hands through my hair as we followed Chip through the house. A number of maids in striped dresses joined us.
The living room had the same feel as the rest of the house but was twice the size of the kitchen. There were numerous pictures hung on the walls. Lots showed Chip with a younger Michael—maybe during his teenage years—and another man who could have been Chip’s son.
I stopped and stared at one where Chip and the other man clapped as Michael held a big fish.
“I was only eleven back then,” Michael said.
“And even then there was nothing this boy couldn’t do,” Chip said.
I continued studying the picture. “Is that you dad?”
Michael nodded with pain in his eyes.
“He was a great man,” Chip said. “I’m so proud Michael turned out the way he did. Losing his parents at thirteen was just wrong.”
“Anyway, enough of that,” Michael said. “How about you guys get cleaned up?”
“I second that,” Curtis said. He followed one of the maids toward a hall. Doug and Manuel followed close behind with some more maids.
Michael started to turn, but I held him back. I leaned forward and whispered, “Does Chip know Curtis is a Shrinik?”
“I had to tell him. He’d have found out once Curtis went to the bathroom anyway.”
I smiled and retreated. Then I followed another maid down the hall, excited at the prospect of a shower.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I grimaced when I saw a little over a third of my medication left. I added half a teaspoon to my glass of water and gulped it down. I knew such a small dosage wouldn’t last long, but it was either that or have no form of treatment for my headaches and body pains. Even if there were some other form, I wouldn’t know where to begin looking for it here in 2013. I looked at myself in the bathroom’s full-length mirror again and rested my gaze on the bags under my eyes. I was in desperate need of some sleep and a makeover.
“Rachel,” I heard Michael shout through the door. “You okay in there?”
“Just coming.” I splashed water onto my face, dried it off and walked back out.
Everyone was seated around the huge dining table. As with everything else in the house, it was made of Brazilian rosewood. I sat opposite Curtis, who looked like he had just come from a photo shoot, with his tight black T-shirt and matching pants. Manuel and Doug had changed into faded jeans and white T-shirts. It seemed strange that there was adequate clothing for all of us. It was like Chip had anticipated our arrival. That or he just kept all manner of clothing on hand.
“Where’s Chip?” I asked.
“He thought we needed some time to talk,” Michael said.
I shrugged. “So what now?”
Doug shook his head and looked deflated. “I still think it’s all over. They’ll see us coming from a mile off now. We didn’t achieve anything.” He nodded at me. “Odds are, Dylan isn’t even in this time anymore.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Curtis said.
I stared at him and felt my heart tighten. Was he about to give me fresh hope of finding Dylan?
“Because of us,” he continued, “they were forced to destroy the regional portal for North America.”
I scowled and turned toward the door that led to the corridor. What had I expected? That Curtis would just magically know where Dylan was? I still believed he was in 2013, though. Well, after everything that happened, it was now only hope that remained, but that was enough for me.
“But we didn’t get the master location, bro,” Manuel said.
“That doesn’t matter,” Curtis said. “Remember, they can’t just build a new regional portal anywhere. They have to make sure it’s secure and safe. It could take them months to find somewhere. No matter what we say, we’ve messed up their plans.”
“But we can’t let them build another one, right, peeps?” Manuel said. “We have to find the master site and find out what’s really going on.”
“And find out what happened to Rachel’s son?” Michael said.
No one spoke. I didn’t know how they all felt about going up against such formidable adversaries to save my baby. But our mission now felt like more than that. Sure, Dylan was my main motivation, but we also had to stop these rogue travelers, whoever they were, from causing all this damage to our planet.
&
nbsp; Doug raised his hands. “Back to the same problem. To find the master portal, we need the journal.”
Michael pulled his cell out and typed on the screen.
“What’re you doing?” I asked.
He grimaced. “Trying to get some sort of idea when Carrie might throw another party, but no one seems to know.”
“That’s my job, sir.”
We all looked at the room’s entrance. Mandy walked in with a white dressing gown, the earlier pain now absent from her face. She held a computer tablet in her right hand
Michael stood up. “What’re you doing? You should be resting.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. No stupid gunshot wound will get me down.” She walked toward the table and Michael pulled a chair out for her. She fiddled with the tablet for a few seconds.
“What’re you looking for?” Doug said.
“If Carrie is doing anything soon, it’ll be on Twitter or Facebook.”
I laughed to myself. In my time, no one could do anything without putting it on Twitter or Facebook. I hadn’t known it was the same in 2013. We sat in silence, looking at Mandy and hoping she’d find something that could help us. The expression on her face kept changing from hopeful to anxious and back. I bit my fingernails. The suspense was killing me.
“Got it,” Mandy said.
We all ran behind her. She held the tablet in the air so we could see it. It was a tweet from someone with the username @JoannaReporter. It said: “First Family confirmed to attend Carrie Nicholas’ charity event for Preservation of Endangered Species. It looks like I’ll need to get my best dress out.”
“Yes.” Michael slapped the dining table a few times. “I knew it. That woman can’t help herself.”
“But what does that mean?” I said.
“Nothing,” Doug said. “If the first family will be there, there’ll be double, maybe triple security. Plus the secret service. How are we going to get in?”
Michael laughed. “Mandy?”
Mandy stood up and walked around the room. “Michael actually dined with President Bishop just a month ago. They’re very good friends.”
“You’re kidding,” Curtis said. “You’re literally one of them.”
Michael dismissed the comment with a smile. Was there anyone he didn’t know? “Even without the president,” he said, “Carrie would need a pretty big reason to stop me from getting in there. I’m one of her biggest contributors, after all.”
“You sure this is a good idea?” Doug said.
I wasn’t sure myself, but maybe Michael wasn’t far off. Maybe we needed to confront them during a public function. I stared at the ceiling, thinking of what it would be like, meeting Carrie face-to-face after everything that had happened.
“I have no doubt,” Michael said. “I know Carrie. She’ll love it. She’s always enjoyed a challenge. She’ll know that a cover-up will be pretty difficult with the president, the secret service and all the other important people around.” He paused for a moment. “But at the same time; us being there will be like a dream come true. It would be like all her prayers answered, having us so close within her grasp.”
Doug stood up, worry on his face. “Then why would we just walk into that kind of trap?”
“I said she’d welcome the surprise, not that she’d expect it,” Michael said.
From what I remembered of Carrie, Michael had a point. She loved prevailing over awkward situations.
“Once inside,” he continued, “we can find the journal and take it.”
“How?” Manuel said. “We don’t even know where she keeps it.”
“Michael does,” Mandy said. We all stared at him. “He’s been there many times.”
Michael nodded and smiled. “I know every inch of that house. Her safe is in her bedroom. But being as paranoid as she is, you need a thumbprint and a retina scan to get in there.”
Doug raised his hands in the air. “Is this a joke? What do you suggest? We march her in there by the neck and make her open the door? In front of all that security?”
Michael laughed. “You’re forgetting we have their prized asset here. We have someone they’d do anything to get.” He glanced at me, and everyone followed his gaze. “Plus, the look on her face when she first sees you will be priceless. I’d just love to see her explain what she’s doing in 2013 to you with everyone watching.”
I swallowed with a dry throat and frowned. Would I be able to keep my composure, knowing that she probably knew where Dylan was being held? “But what am I going to do? What do I even say to her?”
Mandy walked up to me and squeezed my wrists. “First we need to get you a dress, one that will keep all eyes in the room on you.” She walked toward the door, dragging me with her.
I hurried up the curved wooden stairs to the third floor. Mandy entered her room and turned on a laptop on the table. Then she opened a Web browser and did her really-fast-typing thing. Seconds later, a number of dresses appeared on the screen. They ranged from backless to some with plunging necklines. They were all so gorgeous. Then I looked at the prices.
“Wow” I said.
She looked at me as if she’d seen a ghost. “What? What is it?”
“Those prices? For a dress?”
She laughed my comments away. “Oh, is that it?” She continued flipping through. “Trust me, there’ll be some serious competition in there. Your dress has to be the only one anyone sees. I bet you didn’t know—”
“Stop. Stop,” I yelled.
She gave me another confused look.
I pointed at the screen. “I like that one.”
She followed my eyes and smiled. “I like it, too.”
We spent the next few days recuperating. The incident at the Sacramento facility had knocked the stuffing out of all of us, but we were slowly getting our strength back. Chip pretty much left us to it. We saw him only in the mornings at the breakfast table. It sometimes felt as if we’d taken over his house altogether. But Michael convinced us that he didn’t mind in the slightest. He knew the monumental task facing us and wanted to help in any way he could.
We went over the plan for Carrie’s big party again and again. Everyone reassured me that everything would be all right and I would get Dylan back unharmed. Mandy had even helped me get my parents’ phone number even though it was unlisted. Her skills at finding things amazed me. I shuddered to think what someone with her ability would be able to do in 2043.
I’d called my parents from a blocked number four times in the past two days. My mom answered the first two times, and then my dad and then my younger version. It gave me so much comfort knowing they were all safe. Hearing their voices gave me even more motivation. Regardless of what happened to me now, I had to give them the opportunity to live happy lives. I knew the time line had probably changed many times since I came to 2013, and I wondered what that meant for the younger me. I might have ended up living a completely different life, one where my daughter didn’t fall more than two hundred feet to her death and my husband wasn’t killed by savage aliens. I might even be able to give Madeline a brother or sister. I just hope I still get to meet Kevin. And Dylan. Will I still get to win Dylan?
I pondered the consequences of time travel and Curtis’ warning of betrayal from within. So much depended on the choices I was about to make. And with the different possibilities flowing through my head, some personal demons also lingered. My headaches and shaking grew worse, especially at night. I was still surviving on a teaspoon of my medication per day, but I now needed perhaps four. I found that an ice-cold shower helped to calm me every time my body got the shakes. I’d probably taken ten trips to the shower in the last two days. The guys tried their utmost to pretend they weren’t concerned for me.
My dress arrived on the morning of the fourth day, the day of the party. We had already sent two back that didn’t fit perfectly. Mandy woke me up the second it arrived. I opened it for a quick peek. It looked just as gorgeous as the others had. The others who had parts to
play had already picked out their attire from Chip’s unlimited wardrobe. We spent the rest of the day going over our plans. By four o’clock, we were all confident except for Doug.
“I just think they’ll see us coming,” he said with a sigh.
The sun was shining through the blinds of Chip’s living room. Michael and Curtis stretched, frowns on their faces. I could see they were getting impatient with Doug and his constant doubts.
“You got a better idea?” Michael snapped. “We all agreed it would work.”
Doug looked at me. “And you’re sure you’re okay with all this?”
I shrugged. “I have to be. This could be our only shot before they take the journal back to 2086. And the Orchestrator might be the only real lead to stopping the rogue travellers and finding where they’re keeping Dylan and the rest of the children.”
Doug stood and nodded. “Okay then, let’s do it.”
Manuel walked in with an urgent expression. “The cars are here.”
Michael rose and interlocked his fingers. “It’s time, people.”
Everyone sat up. I closed my eyes for a few seconds. Then I walked out of the room with Mandy.
Mandy dropped the mascara onto the table and knelt in front of me. She leaned forward, tilted my head to the left and applied more powder to my cheeks. She did the same with the other cheek and then stood back with a satisfied look.
“All done.” She walked toward the room’s full-length mirror and gestured for me to follow.
I closed my eyes for a moment and then rose. I stood in front of the mirror and almost screamed. Who’s this beautiful woman in this gorgeous red dress? And what’s she done with me? The bags under my eyes had disappeared. My makeup was flawless, as were my nails. But it all ended with the sleeveless red-silk Valentino dress I had on. The wide boat neck ran horizontally, front and back, up to my shoulder points, with the left side shaped like a rose. Its fitted bodice and long skirt actually revealed curves. Me with curves? It didn’t seem real in the slightest. Even my C-cup breasts looked bigger than normal. I didn’t know whether to smile at myself or just stand there, entranced by this amazing dress.
The Children Who Time Lost Page 34
