The Children Who Time Lost

by Marvin Amazon

  “Rachel,” I heard Curtis scream. I peered into the SUV and saw him in the backseat beside Doug, who was clutching a stomach wound.

  The gunfire resumed, so I returned some of my own. Then I jumped into the driver’s seat and stared at the car’s controls. They were identical to those in Holly’s Volvo. Lorenzo and two other guards broke cover and started firing at us again.

  “Go, go, go,” Curtis screamed. “I’ll cover you.” He stuck his head out the window and opened fire.

  I put the car in reverse and pressed hard on the gas. The car catapulted backward at blinding speed. More bullets struck it, causing loud thuds. I ducked with my foot still on the gas. We smashed against something and skidded for a while before whatever it was we had run over came loose. I spun the car around when we reached the next junction and sped off. The bullets from our assailants tapered off until nothing came. We drove in silence for a while. I decreased my speed when I was sure we weren’t being followed. I felt for the journal again and it was still there. But I couldn’t believe Mandy, Manuel and Michael were gone. I turned and studied Curtis and Doug for a moment. Curtis’ face was covered in grease. Blood seeped through Doug’s fingers, and he had a grimace on his face. We had to get him patched up to stop the bleeding, but where could we go? For all we knew, our descriptions were at every hospital in the area.

  I slowed down ten minutes later when we reached a quiet street. I was convinced we didn’t have a tail but didn’t take my eyes away from the rearview mirror. We hadn’t said a word to each other but just drove in silence. Doug still wasn’t doing well. He rested his head on the backseat, his eyes almost closed.

  “We need to get the bullet out,” Curtis said, “or he’ll die.”

  I had a bad feeling that the bullet was still inside Doug. I knew that every second it remained in there reduced his chances of surviving. I took a right onto another quiet street but couldn’t see the name. I parked behind a white van and turned to face Curtis. “We can’t go to a hospital. It’s too risky.”

  Curtis nodded and stared out the window for a moment. “I can help him. I just need the right stuff.”

  “What, like a first-aid kit?”

  “No. I’ll need more than that. You got a phone?”

  I reached into my breast pocket again. The journal was safe. I grabbed my medication and studied it. I could get a tablespoon out of it if I were lucky. My dosage had been decreasing each day, and the pain wasn’t so bad. I put it back and reached for the touch-screen phone in my other pocket. I held it out. “Here.”

  “Look for a nearby clinic, a small private one. It’ll be closed now, so we can probably use it.”

  I turned the phone on and called up Google. I found a number of private practices, but the closest was over half an hour away. Doug didn’t look like he had that long. I kept searching. Then I got an idea.

  “What about a vet’s place?”

  Curtis frowned at the car’s ceiling. “Yes, that could do.”

  I started the car. “There’s one two streets away.” I gave the car some gas and sped to the end of the street. After taking a left and then an immediate right, I parked outside two three-story apartment buildings and turned the engine off. The vet was in a small building between the apartments. I opened the car door. “Let me check it out.”

  Curtis nodded and looked toward the building. I walked to the glass door and peeked through. I saw a reception area and a door that probably led to the back. I eyed the door and the window for a moment. A bullet would have given us a way through in an instant but would have been too loud. I looked back at the car and at Doug lying motionless in the back. I ran back and opened my door. When I reached for the weapons bag, Curtis held my wrist.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “We haven’t got time. We need to shoot our way through.”

  Curtis shook his head and stepped out of the car. “No, we don’t. There’s another way.” He walked to the glass door, stopped and turned to face me. “I’d stand back if I were you.”

  I edged back to the car and leaned against it. Curtis faced the door again. His body shook, and the white light surrounded his head. But he wasn’t transforming. Instead, a number of the small organisms flew from his body and sprang onto the window. The light disappeared and Curtis stepped back. The organisms slithered up and down and multiplied. Then I heard glass cracking. Seconds later, they were crawling in, at least thirty of them. They’d given me the shivers every time I saw them, and this was no exception.

  I stepped forward and peered in. The organisms were crawling up the glass door and congregating around the lock. After another minute, the door handle fell to the ground and the door was open. I looked at Curtis in shock and amazement. The blood around his body had dried, but it still tainted his perfect skin. He pushed the door open and walked in. The organisms leaped onto his body and merged with it. I grimaced in disgust. I just couldn’t get used to seeing all that.

  Curtis turned and held his hand up. “I’ll check it out.”

  I nodded and took a step back. He walked back out after a minute and rushed to the car. He grabbed Doug by the waist and eased him out. I ran and helped him. Doug was mumbling gibberish and shaking.

  “Will he make it?” I asked.

  “I hope so.”

  Curtis and I entered the building and placed Doug on an operating table in the back. Curtis ran around the room looking for things.

  “Do you want me to do anything? I’m a nurse.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not using a conventional method.”

  My eyes widened. “What’re you going to do?”

  “Save his life. Probably best if you let me do this on my own.”

  I didn’t know what to think. The Shriniks were obviously capable of doing so many things, but healing humans? Curtis was one of us, though. He wouldn’t hurt Doug. I nodded and stepped backward. “I’ll just be out here.”

  “I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

  I walked back out to the waiting area. The roads were still quiet and stars filled the sky. The clock on the wall said 10 p.m. I sat on a large brown sofa and drifted off to sleep.

  “Rachel. Rachel,” I heard someone say.

  I opened my eyes and frowned. Curtis stood in front of me with urgency in his eyes. “What happened?” I said. “Is he all right?”

  “Yes. He’ll be fine. But we’re not safe here. We need to go.”

  I yawned and stood up. “How long have we been here?”

  “Nearly forty-five minutes.” Curtis ran into the back and returned moments later with Doug hanging over his shoulder and still mumbling gibberish.

  I ran forward and lifted Doug’s bloodied shirt. A large bandage now covered the wound. When we reached the door, Curtis stopped.

  “What is it?” I said.

  “We need another car.”

  I glanced left and right. “Let’s get on the main road and try and get one.”

  “Actually, we might not need to do that.” He eased Doug onto the sofa and headed toward the back room again.

  “Where are you going?” I shouted out.

  “I saw some keys when I was working on Doug.”

  I sighed and waited. Curtis walked out seconds later, dangling a set of keys in the air. He ran outside and pushed the alarm button on a set of BMW keys. The turn-signal lights of a silver SUV flashed twice. “Yes,” he said with a smile.

  We helped Doug to the car and then got in. I took the driver’s seat. “Where do we go?”

  “First things first. Let’s get out of L.A.”

  Chapter Forty

  Curtis took the wheel thirty minutes after we’d left the vet’s. At first, his smooth driving surprised me, but as he went back and forth at will through the portal, I figured he was more than capable of driving any kind of car.

  None of the radio stations spoke of the shootout on the streets. I’d wondered whether they would at least mention Michael or whether the Shriniks would cover that up. I search
ed for his name on the Internet. Again, nothing. I thought back to the large bald man at the party. Michael thought I was being ridiculous when I said he could be the Orchestrator, but I just didn’t know. All I knew was that the human race was running out of time and we had to do something.

  I had read almost half the journal by now. Most of it was words from a young boy about the love he felt for his saviors from another planet and how safe they made him feel. Most of the detail was what Curtis had already told us, mainly that he had lost his parents at the age of thirteen. The rest was scientific stuff about time travel and reproduction. But I still had no clue as to who the Orchestrator was.

  We drove south in the slow lane on the I-5 for nearly fifty miles without saying much to each other. I glanced back at Doug sleeping in the back a few times. Curtis did the same from time to time.

  “He’ll be fine,” he said.

  I reached back and stroked Doug’s hair. I sat back up straight and looked at Curtis.

  “What?” he said.

  “What did you do to him?”

  Curtis faced the windshield and frowned. “He would have died. He’d lost too much blood.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I entered his body and took the bullet out.”

  I looked at him, bewildered.

  “Not me exactly, but you know.”

  “You’re kidding me. You sent those things inside his body?”

  “They’re not things,” Curtis snapped. “They’re part of me.”

  “Sorry,” I said. ‘I didn’t mean … What does that mean, though? Will he turn into … you know?”

  Curtis laughed. “Don’t be silly. I didn’t possess him or anything. They just found the bullet and got rid of it. I guess my regenerative cells helped as well, but that’s it. I just helped him recover. He’ll be back to normal when he wakes up.”

  I nodded and stared out the window. We continued in silence for a few more minutes. Then I turned and faced him again. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for what you did for us at the facility.”

  He looked at me, smiled and shrugged.

  “I’m being serious. We wouldn’t be here if not for you.”

  He flashed me a smile through his greasy skin. But I could see that his beautiful skin was trying to return. He held the smile for a while, but then a serious look took over. “I’m sorry about Dylan.”

  I grimaced but didn’t speak. I’d tried to block all thoughts of Dylan from my head since we fled the party. If Carrie and her people had been sending their own children back under the guise of the Lotto, how many were actually human, if any? Was Dylan a Shrinik?

  “It’s a shame about Michael, Manuel and Mandy, too. So many good people dead so my people can protect this Orchestrator.” He nodded at the journal. “You found anything out yet?”

  He was right. Everything that had happened was the Orchestrator’s fault. Kevin’s dying. The children who time lost. Dylan and all the humans that would die in the future. All because of this one man. And the fact that this idiot was human made it worse. I wished I could see him right then. I wouldn’t have been able to hold back. I shook my head at Curtis. “Nothing you haven’t already told us. The rest is just technical stuff. You’ll probably find it more interesting than me.”

  We carried on in silence, but worry still filled my mind. I guessed it showed on my face, as Curtis kept giving me worried glances.

  “You okay?” he asked after a while.

  “I just want to know how they’ll come at us. It’s strange that the whole police force isn’t after us. You’d think they’d do everything possible to get the journal back.”

  “Maybe they have something else planned.”

  I frowned at the sky. He was right. They knew so much. Even Amelia’s arrival was strange and timely, almost as if they’d known they’d need her right at that moment. I yawned and stretched my arms. “Maybe, but none of this adds up.” I opened the journal and ran my hands through the pages.

  “The answer’s in there somewhere,” Curtis said.

  I nodded and looked at signposts. San Diego was forty miles away. “What’re we going to do when we get to San Diego?”

  Curtis shrugged. “I guess we’ll just have to lay low until we figure out where the master facility is.”

  “But why San Diego?”

  Curtis spared me a brief glance. “It just seems logical. It’s pretty close to L.A. It won’t be that hard to get to Stockton from there, either. I was thinking that maybe we could go to Chip for help after things calm down. Michael seemed to trust him.”

  I frowned. Something occurred to me. I opened the book and went through the first few pages. Then I reached the section where the boy spoke of his parents’ death. I stared at the roof of the car as if I’d just seen a ghost.

  “Get off,” I shouted.

  Curtis looked at me, bewildered.

  “The highway. Get off now.” I waved at the exit like a madwoman.

  Curtis swerved and just about made the exit. He slowed down after a few seconds. “What’re we doing?”

  “We need to turn around. Head north.”

  He gave me more bemused looks but he rejoined the I-5 and headed north. He cocked his head toward me after a minute of driving. “So why are we heading back toward L.A.?”

  “Do you remember what Chip said about Michael’s parents?” I said. “About how old he was when they died?”

  He shrugged. “Not really.”

  I grabbed my phone and searched for Michael again. Nothing had popped up about his death, but I was looking for something else. I found the first article I’d ever read about his parents’ death. I turned the phone’s screen toward Curtis. “Look at how old this article said he was when his parents died in the plane crash.”

  He looked at the phone for a moment. “Fifteen. So?”

  “But Chip said he was only thirteen. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I just thought Chip got his wires crossed.”

  Curtis shrugged again. “What’s the connection?”

  “You told us that the Orchestrator was thirteen when his parents died, remember?”

  Curtis’ eyes narrowed, but then he shook his head. “But I might have been wrong. Remember there isn’t really any accurate information about him.”

  I lifted the journal and turned it toward him. “But it says thirteen here as well. It can’t be a coincidence.”

  “My God,” Curtis said. “But what does that mean?”

  I shook my head. “It means that we go to Stockton to see Chip right now. He has some explaining to do.”

  We drove for almost two hours on the I-5, discussing my suspicion that Michael had a part to play in all this. I believed in coincidences, sure, but this felt different. Curtis wasn’t as sure as I was, but he was willing to follow the evidence. Chip knew Michael’s parents and was as good a person as anybody to clear up the discrepancy.

  We’d been driving on the I-5 for nearly two hundred miles when Doug woke up. He listened to my theory and then Curtis’ objection, deciding to keep an open mind until we reached Chip’s place. I continued reading the journal. Some of the boy’s entries were quite sad. The Shriniks that had saved him knew they would die if they stayed on Earth for a prolonged period of time, but they did anyway.

  The journal included transcripts of late-night conversations in which the Shriniks consoled the boy for entire nights as the emotional pain of losing his parents flared up.

  Halfway through, I started to lose some of the hatred I’d had for them. I glanced at Curtis and then imagined the boy’s guardians to be as compassionate as Curtis. But somewhere along the line, sadness must have driven the Orchestrator to anger. Maybe his adoptive family’s well-being became more important than his fellow humans. Who knows—maybe he somehow blamed everyone around him for his parents’ death. Throughout the journal, he repeated the phrase They had no chance.

  I searched the Internet for further information, but without knowing the boy’s identity,
it was impossible to land any hits. I instead focused my search on Michael’s parents’ deaths—the deaths reported, anyway. It looked like an open-and-shut case. The pilot had reported an engine failure. Everything had been done to save them, but it was too late. I grimaced and wondered if my theory was right. If it wasn’t Michael’s parents on the plane, who was it? And who else knew his parents had really died two years earlier? But he might not even be the Orchestrator.

  I banged my hands against the car’s dashboard and grunted in frustration.

  “Don’t do that to yourself,” Doug said in a low voice. “We might be completely wrong here.”

  I shook my head. “But it also makes sense if you think about it. The Shrinik that helped you even said so. And we can’t forget that Michael helped develop Crixanipam. No matter what, he’s tied to this. What if he lied about not following through?”

  “But if he is the Orchestrator,” Doug said, “why did they kill him? Why have they been hunting us? If he’s this great messiah to them, why would the Shriniks risk his life like that?”

  “But most of them don’t know who he is, remember?”

  Doug gave me a blank stare. Curtis turned and faced him. “She’s right. None of us knows his true identity, even in the future.” He nodded at the journal. “That’s the only thing that is said to hold the truth as to who he is.”

  I continued flipping through pages I’d gone through before, but nothing else was jumping out.

  “What about Mandy and Manuel?” Doug said. “Were they part of it, too?”

  I lowered the journal and turned around. “I honestly don’t know. Nothing makes sense right now.”

  I returned to the journal, and Curtis gave me occasional glances. “Anything?” he said.

  I shook my head. “Just more clues. He could be anyone of power.”