“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” he continued. “Alcohol can’t be your answer.”
I managed to make eye contact. “It’s not my answer.”
“It’s just easier than dealing?” He came around the desk and placed a hand on my forearm. “I’m worried about you, and I don’t care if you hate me the rest of your life because I lied. I want you to get the help you need.”
“What I need is for this all to have been a nightmare. To wake up.” Because the most fantastic thing to ever happen to me, finding evidence of Atlantis, had been shadowed by the worst day of my life.
“This,” he gestured about the room, “is real, but this isn’t my life either, Chelsea. My parents may have raised me on those stories, but they’re not what I believe. You’re a rock star. I’m a videogame maker. We were in the wrong place when the ship got hijacked. You were in the wrong place on the Bridge that day.”
And I knew that. I did. But all of this, everything, from classified military research stations to an Atlantean-Lemurian war for control over time itself, was a fantasy I wasn’t sure I could handle. Couldn’t I go back to being the college student ready to graduate and get the hell out of Boston? The girl ready to take the Northeast by storm with her pop-punk band?
Looking at Trevor now, his blue eyes as damn captivating as the first time we met, I couldn’t fathom a way that would be possible. Too much had changed. Going back to May of this year would never happen. But maybe I could return to June.
I slid his hand off my forearm and moved my hands into his, lifting them up between us. “Can we forget all of this for a while? Deal with it a little at a time?”
“If that’s what you want. I just want you better, with or without me. Seeing you drunk like that, watching Freddy take care of you when I didn’t know what to do…”
I sighed and placed my head on his chest. “I’m sorry. And I do want you, Trevor… I love you. I do. I-I want to try again. Slowly.” And for the moment, I believed it was possible.
Sighing, and unable to hide a small smile of relief, he wrapped an arm around me and placed a hand on my back. So simple a gesture, and yet, somehow, it righted the entire world again.
The entire station rocked severely to one side like someone had flipped it, center included. Amphorae fell off the counter to my right, shattering into a hundred or more pieces. I gripped the countertop, and Trevor crashed into me, digging my ribs into the linoleum. Something clunked behind me onto the floor—my cell phone.
The station swayed violently to an upright position, knocking me and my hung-over brain off balance. The world spun in a dizzying, rocking mess. Trevor shoved his hands under my arms and pulled me up through rising nausea. The general quarters alarm went off. Lights around us dimmed until they emitted a soft, red glow.
Vomit seized my throat and stomach. I clutched my sides and rushed to a trashcan, dry-heaving into it. Trevor stepped behind me and held up my hair. When it passed, I locked eyes with him, and he crossed the room to the intercom and dialed the Bridge. My heart raced in my veins, pulse thudding behind my ears and at my wrists. We just made it through a hijacking. What could possibly be happening now?
Seconds passed and no response came from the Bridge.
“Why is no one answering?” I asked.
Christa’s voice came over the station-wide communications band. “Trevor Boncore to the Bridge. Trevor to the Bridge.”
Oh, that can’t be good.
Trevor held a hand out to me. “Come on.”
We made it to the Bridge in less than two minutes. Someone opened the door for Trevor’s arrival, and the Commander greeted Trevor with a headset. He pointed to a station, and Trevor went to work. I stood out of the way like I had the day we found the Atlantean outpost. The need to hop onto a NANA station gnawed at me. Emma—Valerie—never should have given me those instructions or taught me what she did.
The Commander approached me with a headset. “If you think you can help—”
I put it on and manned the lower NANA station, which spat out readings that made no sense. “We’re not in water?”
“We’re not in anything,” the Commander confirmed.
I shot Trevor a look across the room. He was half-seated in a Helm station, a look of utter disbelief enveloping his expression. I lifted fingers to indicate channel three on the headset. He nodded and complied.
“What’s happening?” I asked him.
“We’re being moved,” he said in a hushed tone, a hand in front of his mouth.
I hid my lips in a similar fashion. “Moved?”
“Through time and space—to a different part in the timeline.”
“What are you saying?” I was ever aware of the growing audience our antics garnered. Almost everyone on the Bridge, the Commander included, stared at us.
“Lemuria,” Trevor said, tone clipped and breath hitched. “Chelsea, they’re taking the station and us along with it.”
My head cocked to one side, daring him to confirm his words. He nodded slowly like I was an idiot not seeing something right in front of me.
“How? And how do you know?” I asked.
“The readings say we aren’t where we’re supposed to be,” he said. “That’s because in less than thirty seconds, we won’t technically exist.” He paused, waiting for me to respond. “Chelsea, we have to do something. You have to do something. You’re a super solider. You can stop this.”
“What will they do to us?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. They need us or the station for one reason or another. If Thompson wanted you—”
“We also have all of those Link Pieces downstairs.” My heart dropped into my gut, all breath whooshed from my lungs.
I slammed my fingers onto the keyboard. “Christa, open up a secure line to the number I’m giving you.”
The Commander stood in front of my station, questioning why I gave Christa orders. I ignored him. Where was Captain Marks? Why was he always missing when this stuff happened?
“Christa, I need that line,” I insisted.
“I can’t—” she said.
“Never mind.” I grunted and opened it myself. I punched in the code to take over her station—Thank you, Valerie—and dialed TAO. “Mayday, mayday, this is SeaSat5 calling TAO. We’re being taken. Repeat, the Lemurians have us.”
I repeated the message once before the Commander himself cut the line. “I can’t authorize—”
“We are being compromised!” I shouted at him.
His eyes darted between me and the station, a painful worry wrinkling his face. Letting a civilian order around the senior staff was one thing. Opening an unauthorized, secured communications channel in the middle of a crisis was another.
Trevor sidestepped the Commander and reopened the channel for me. The station rocked again, forcefully turning horizontal. Gears ground together, the station not ready for such a maneuver. We tumbled from our seats on the Bridge, crashing to the floor.
I ripped off my headset as I pulled myself up and searched for Trevor. I lifted him up and put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself.
Trevor cursed. “There goes Humming Bird. They lost liquid density. It’s fucking stuck.”
“Tell me what to do to save us,” I told him.
A wave of something fell over the Bridge. It stood all the hairs on my body on end as if electricity filled the room. The station shook in place again, its walls trembling. Adrenaline sparked in my veins and narrowed my vision into focus. The super soldier part of me clawed her way to the surface. I pushed her down as best I could. Can’t lose control now.
“We need help,” Trevor said. “Maybe one of the artifacts—”
“But which one? And how?” I asked.
He dragged me off towards the blast doors. A pipe burst above us, leaking smoke into the room. Electrical circuits blew next to me. I jerked out of the way, narrowly avoiding sparks and exposed wires.
“Commander, life support systems are failing,
” Christa said. “NANA isn’t far behind.”
“Chelsea, we need to go,” Trevor said.
But I couldn’t concentrate. My mind focused in on Lemuria taking us to some place, some time unknown. But why?
Silence completely filled the room, hanging heavy as all the shaking stopped.
“Commander,” Freddy said. “I’m getting weird readings. The atmosphere outside—it’s not normal.”
The Commander rushed to his side. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve got my screen saying we’re centuries off of where we should be. I mean, when we should be,” another crewman said.
If we were in the future, then maybe something from our time could help.
I spun to the Commander, shrugging off Trevor’s attempts to drag me away. “I can get help. I can’t tell you how or why, but I can get help.”
The Commander must have understood. “Do it.”
“Commander!” Freddy shouted. “Look at the security feed!”
The Commander ordered him to bring it onto the main screen on the Bridge. Trevor and I froze. There, before our eyes, were Captain Marks and Dave in the midst of a brutal fistfight. Both of them had blood-streaked faces and torn clothing. Dave sported a crooked nose.
Captain Marks. Fighting Dave.
I sprinted out the door with Trevor and the Commander hot on my trail. We didn’t bother with the Lift, opting instead to race down the inner maze of stairs. When we got to Engineering, the fight was over. Captain Marks stood above Dave with his gun pointed. Dave’s hands were up in the air. A console next to them smoked and sparked.
“No,” Trevor gasped. He rushed over to the smoking machine and ran his hands along its sides. “No, no, no.”
“Captain?” the Commander asked.
“I found him tampering with Humming Bird.” His breath was ragged, his face covered in cuts. Shattered glass littered the floor. I followed its trail to a case where the fire extinguisher used to be.
Trevor cursed and beat the side of the console. “Captain, he’s completely destroyed Humming Bird. I mean, it was fucked the second the Lemurians righted the ship. It’s gone for good.” His face grew red and he bunched his fists like an angry toddler. He kicked the console for all he was worth.
My heart ached for him, for his entire life’s work, which had been destroyed in an instant by Dave, one of his friends. Someone he trusted. Was there anyone we could trust anymore?
“How?” My eyes darted to Dave. “Why—?” I started to ask, but a mark on Dave’s hand caught my eye. A tattoo made of swirling lines and swooping coils. The same design as the burn mark on my chest, the letterhead of Trevor’s parents’ company. The same tattoo the man who attacked me in Boston had on the back of his hand. I choked on air, unable to speak. My hands shook.
“You bastard,” I spat at Dave. I charged toward him, but strong hands secured themselves around my forearms and yanked back hard. The Commander held me in place.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I pointed to Dave’s hand. “It was you that night! You attacked me outside the Franklin!”
“You’ve been the one messing up Humming Bird this whole time,” Trevor growled. “It wasn’t the interns at all. It was you.”
Trevor’s face contorted through emotions—epiphany, betrayal, fear, anger—before he launched himself past Captain Marks and onto Dave. He tackled Dave to the ground, so empowered by my realization and the loss of Humming Bird that no one could stop him. His fists connected with Dave’s face one, twice, ten times until Captain Marks finally wrenched him off.
Dave laughed, blood dripping from his nose into his teeth. He looked like a bad horror movie, like a demon laughing manically with a bloody, swelling, multi-colored face. “Took you long enough to figure it out. I had to get the station ready for today, for this.”
Queasiness returned, tumbling my insides. This wasn’t the hangover. Dave was the first person I met on SeaSat5 after Trevor. Knowing he had attacked me, knowing he had worked for Thompson the whole time, made my heart burn. First Valerie, now him. How had he managed to get through the hijacking unnoticed?
“Ignore him.” Trevor reached out for me. “We need to get to the Artifact Room.”
Dave nodded toward the door. “What do you hope to accomplish in there, anyway? You have no idea how time travel works.”
Trevor’s knuckles were red with blood, but he didn’t stop to wrap them or pay them any mind. Snatching my hand, he dragged me from the man who had turned my world upside down. Someday, I would make him pay. Someday, Trevor would also get his revenge.
We sprinted up the inner column of stairs to my office. I threw open the doors to the closet housing the artifacts and texts from the outpost. My eyes darted up and down each shelf. I hoped something we could use would call out to me. The journal sat on the counter, but right now it didn’t shimmer at all. Nada. Nothing. Shelf after shelf of ancient, old pieces of cultures that no longer existed as they once did, and nothing freaking shimmered.
I paced into my office, my pulse drumming in my ears. Trevor trailed behind me, one hand on my elbow, the other grabbing artifacts to present to me along the way. I shook my head at each one. None glowed like Sophia and Dr. Hill said Link Pieces should. Nothing.
A tightness grew in my chest, building and building, until all I wanted to do was scream.
Again, I could do something. Again, I could make a difference. And again, there was no way to accomplish that. Just like when Michael died.
Then, out of my left field of vision, something sparkled. Shimmered. Glowed. My eyes darted to my cell phone on the floor. I watched it twinkle and wave a cerulean flourish, like pavement on a hot summer’s day. The mirage called to me, drawing me toward the illusion as though reaching out with loving, controlling arms. I picked my cell phone up off the ground and stared for a moment. A simple cell phone now a Link Piece?
Then I saw it. It encased my full field of vision, ensconcing me in azure hues and cobalt waves. Snowflake-like structures linked to each other with lines housing dates and times, intricate connections I couldn’t follow. My phone was there, sporting lines that darted out of it, sliding in and out of my vision, connecting themselves in the distance to an anchor-point beyond the horizon.
“Chelsea.” Trevor’s voice, hoarse and desperate, threatened to crash the whole scene.
The vision pulled on my body like gravity, dragging me in and holding me under like a riptide.
Trevor’s hand covered mine, the one holding my phone. “You see it, don’t you? The Waterstar map?”
I couldn’t respond to him, only the pull of the map. My body burned a delightful heat. It started in my hands and spiraled outward into every part of me. Every limb, every node. Every single piece of me hummed with warm power, with a surety I’d never before known.
The room around us swirled and tumbled, slowly metamorphosing into something else, something new, until we stood in the middle of the Franklin, surrounded by people jumping and cheering for a band on stage. I couldn’t hear them. At first, there was no sound. Silence like an old black and white movie, where little made sense and you couldn’t make out what people were saying. Then, like a cymbal at the top of a crescendo in an orchestra, clarity struck bright and loud.
We stood in the exact place I’d first seen Trevor all those months ago, the exact place I’d teleported to SeaSatellite5 from in May.
The silence shattered in an instant, destroyed by a confusing cacophony of lights and noises, all earth-shatteringly different from SeaSat5. My head spun. Audio Striker’s lead singer screeched into his mic. The sound pierced my ears and split my head. I cupped my palms over my ears to drown him out.
Trevor tugged on my arm, mouthing something I couldn’t make out. The whites of his eyes looked weird in the light, like he didn’t have pupils at all.
“Fuck me!” I shouted. Couldn’t Audio Striker stop playing for one freaking second? I squished my palms to my ears even harder.
Som
eone’s elbow jabbed into my ribs, then another and another. A mosh pit roared to life behind me. I hurried out of the way as another body soared toward me and plowed into Trevor. He righted the both of us and pointed behind my head. I followed his finger to an EXIT door near the stage and glanced at the mosh pit blocking the way. This would not be fun.
I grabbed hold of Trevor’s arm, dug my fingers into his skin, and marched toward the door, shoving people off of us as we went. Someone’s arm flung into Trevor’s face, connecting with his nose. He faltered for a second, and I pulled him forward as blood streamed over his lips and chin.
I heaved open the door and sucked in huge breaths of fresh air. Audio Striker’s music and fans faded, giving way to taxi cabs beeping and brakes screeching. The city. Boston.
I paced almost to the end of the alley before turning to see Trevor rip off part of his shirt to stem the blood flowing from his nose.
“What the hell just fucking happened?” I demanded.
“I don’t know.” He looked up at the sky, like it had answers, then to me. “We’re in Boston.”
“No shit. But where are they? Where’s SeaSat5?”
“I don’t know, Chelsea,” he repeated with gritted teeth.
Pressure built inside me, constricting my lungs, clenching my muscles, until I spun and sent my fist soaring into the brick wall of the Franklin. I left it there, embedded in stone with bleeding, broken knuckles, absorbing the pain. Letting it clear my thoughts and disperse my confusion. One breath. Two.
Finally, I opened my eyes and noticed another hole right next to it. I’d made it after hearing about Ray, right before Dave tried to mug me.
I swallowed hard. None of this is real. This cannot be happening.
“Chelsea, we have to do something,” Trevor said.
I spun on Trevor. “We tried! We freaking tried, and it didn’t work. Why are we here?”
“Why your cell phone?”
“What?”
He pointed to my other hand, still clasping my phone. “Why’d you grab your phone in your office?”
I honestly didn’t know. “It called to me.” Connections. “I dropped it here the night I teleported to SeaSat5. Do you think it’s linked to the Franklin because of that?”
Gyre (Atlas Link Series Book 1) Page 29
