Fenzy

by Liparulo, Robert

  David blinked, and the tears rolled.

  “Do you believe it?” Dad said.

  David nodded. “How can it not happen?” he said. “Xander went back—or will go back. He has to. Otherwise there wouldn’t be any note, right?”

  Dad leaned up and pulled David’s head into his chest. “We’ll change it,” he whispered. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, Dae. I promise.”

  David pushed away. “Have you ever changed the future? Have you seen it happen?”

  Dad’s silence was worse than anything he could have said. David hung his head and sniffed. He watched tears fall on the bench between his legs.

  “That doesn’t mean we can’t,” Dad said. “Look at everything that’s already happened that I would have said was impossible. Going back in time in the first place. Your changing history— saving that little girl, who went on to eradicate smallpox, and getting that doctor in the Civil War and ending the war earlier. If we can do that, then we can do this. Right?” He clamped his hands on David’s shoulders and gently shook him. “Right?”

  “I guess,” David said.

  “That’s right,” Dad said, standing up. He turned toward the door, then to Xander, then David. It was clear to David he was thinking, not sure what to do.

  David said, “Dad—?”

  Dad held up his hand. “Just a sec.” He turned his back on the boys and ran his fingers through his hair.

  The wind, as it always did, rushed into the antechamber. It blew through David and Xander’s hair, fluttered through their clothes. Tiny particles of dirt, some pine needles and leaves came off them and swirled through the room. It snatched the paper out of Dad’s hand. He tried to grab it, but it moved too fast, whipping around like a panicked bird. A pink haze drifted from it, as though it were glowing. The paper, needles, leaves, and dirt vanished in a flash under the door.

  David, Xander, and Dad stared at the small pink cloud left behind. A second later, it shrank in on itself and fell to the floor. It splattered—dark red blood. David’s blood from the note. It belonged here, in this world. They gaped down at it, and David wondered if Xander and Dad felt as he did: that it was a bad sign. Looking at it, David had the sense that his death had already happened: there was his blood to prove it.

  I’m dead, he thought. I’m not even here. Just my spirit, watching it happen all over again.

  He ran a hand over his chest, squeezed his leg. He was real, he was here—for now.

  Dad spun, pointing at David. “Go grab some stuff. We’re leaving.”

  “But, Dad,” Xander said. “It can’t be that simple. Something’s going to happen. Taksidian will—“

  “Taksidian can’t do anything,” Dad said. “Not if he can’t find Dae, not if Dae’s not here. There was blood on this note.” He waved his hand at the portal door. “That means it’s fresh when you go over to Jesse’s world and write it. You’re here, in the house, when it happens—but it’s not going to happen, because David’s not going to be here. Go get your stuff, David! Now!”

  David stood. “But, Dad,” he said, “I think Xander’s right. How can it be that easy? I mean—”

  “David!” Dad looked from him to Xander. “This will work, it will.” He stepped into the hallway and turned back, his jaw firm. “What good is the present if we can’t change the future?”

  CHAPTER

  forty-six

  SATURDAY, 12:20 P. M.

  Toria screamed. “Daddy! Daddy!”

  They followed David to an antechamber, where Toria was standing in front of an open portal. A blanket engulfed her. She turned a beaming smile on them. Pointing into the por-tal, she said, “I saw her! Mommy! I saw her!”

  Dad pulled her back and stepped up to the portal. “Where?”

  Xander crowded up beside him, and David jumped on the bench to lean over and look through. A crowd was moving quickly through a narrow street.

  “Where, Toria?” Dad repeated.

  She ducked under David’s head and said, “There!” Her hand shot out, breaking through the portal.

  Dad pulled it back. “Just tell me.”

  “Behind the crowd. Not with the others.”

  “That woman?” Xander said. “That’s not her.”

  “It—“ Toria stopped and looked in silence. “She was there,” she said. “I saw her. Maybe she went into that building.”

  David stepped off the bench. He touched her hair and said, “I don’t think so, Tor. That happened to me too, remem-ber? When I thought I saw her and jumped into that French village during World War II?”

  Dad stepped back. He nudged Xander and Toria away and shut the door.

  “Daddy!” she yelled.

  “Even if you did see her,” Dad said, “we can’t do anything about it now.”

  “Dad!” Xander snapped. “If it was her—“

  “Xander!” He gripped Xander’s arm. “You’re brother’s in danger. You said changing the future couldn’t be as easy as getting him away. Maybe it’s not, because of things like this.” He shook his finger at the portal door. “Maybe something’s trying to keep us here . . . or we just stay, I don’t know. But the only chance we have is to get out of here.”

  Xander’s face told David that he understood and agreed, but he wasn’t happy about it. David wasn’t either. Everything they’d done in the past week, all the danger and brushes with death, had been for Mom. If she was this close, this close . . . how could they leave?

  But David knew: The plan had always been to rescue Mom without someone else in the family disappearing or dying. Maybe David understood Dad better because it was he, David, who was in danger. Plus, he’d been in Toria’s place—thinking he’d seen Mom—and knew how easy it was for your eyes to play tricks on you when you wanted something so badly.

  “You go,” Xander said. “Take David and Toria, and go. Let me go over and see.”

  “No!” David said. “We all go, or none of us do.” In the back of his head, he’d been thinking What if I get out of harm’s away, away from Taksidian’s knife, only for someone else in the family to take my place? What if Time will have its blood from the King family, and it just happened to be mine in one scenario—someone else’s in another?

  “David,” Xander said. “If Toria did see Mom—“

  “Then we’ll find her again,” Dad said. “We’re getting out of here, Xander. All of us. Once we know David’s safe, we’ll come back.”

  Xander gazed at the closed portal door. He nodded. “All right. Let’s go.”

  “But why?” Toria said. “What are you guys talking about? What’s wrong with David?” She looked at him. “Dae?”

  “I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “We have to go now. I’ll explain later.”

  “Keal!” David called.

  “He went to the store,” Dad said. “We’ll have to take his rental with the broken windshield. Anything that gets us far from here.”

  They headed for the stairs that led down to the second floor. Dad stopped. “David, get behind me. Toria, you next. Xander, bring up the rear. Keep your eyes peeled.”

  They stomped down the stairs. As they moved between the two false walls, Xander said, “Holy cow. Dad, you and Keal made a fortress out of these.”

  “It was Keal’s doing,” Dad said, stopping to point at pad-locks inside and outside the doors. “He thought we could use this room as a panic room. You know, we can lock ourselves between the walls in an emergency, in case people are in the house and we can’t get out.”

  Xander pointed toward some studs and planks on the far side of the room. “I thought you were done.”

  “Almost,” Dad said, leaving the room and heading for the second floor’s main hallway. “We’re going to put up some shelves for food and water.” He stopped in front of the mas-ter bedroom and gave David a little push toward the boys’ bedroom. “Grab some clothes, just a handful. Hurry. Toria, you too. Xander, stay with Dae.”

  Dad’s panic was infecting David. His heart raced, and hi
s head swiveled like a radar antenna. He looked over the railing to the front door and foyer . . . back to the other side for a quick glance into Toria’s room as he strode past . . . to the hallway ahead of him. The chair was where it was supposed to be in front of the linen closet. The spare bedroom doors were closed, the way they’d left them.

  Get a grip, David told himself. Taksidian’s not here. Xander’s chin isn’t cut. Dad’s just doing what dads do: making sure his kids are safe. Oversafe.

  He went into the bedroom and pulled open his drawers. What do you take when you’re running for your life? Nothing! But he grabbed a change of clothes in case they couldn’t get new ones for a while.

  “Grab some for me,” Xander said from the door. He was standing guard there, looking in all directions as David had done.

  Holding a bundle of clothes to his chest, he headed out. “Go!” he said. They went to Toria’s door. She was looking under her bed.

  “Toria,” Xander said. “Let’s go.”

  “I can’t find Wuzzy!”

  “Forget him, come on.” Xander pushed David toward the stairs before seeing if she obeyed.

  “Dad!” David yelled.

  “Get to the car,” Dad said from his room. “Lock the doors until I get there.”

  They went down the stairs, and David called back, “Toria’s in her room!”

  “Okay! Toria!”

  David jumped the last three steps. Moving to the front door, he shifted the clothes to one side to free up a hand. He swung the door open, stepping through as it swung.

  Directly in front of him stood Taksidian. His hair whipped around his head in a gusty breeze. Drab-green eyes locked on David. The man held up a gleaming knife.

  David focused on his startled reflection in the blade. Faster than it would have taken his mouth to form the words, his brain told him it was the last time he would ever see his own face.

  Taksidian said, “I want my dagger back.”

  CHAPTER

  forty-seven

  SATURDAY, 12:24 P. M.

  David’s reflection vanished as Taksidian moved the blade, pull-ing it back for a strike.

  David dropped the clothes. Move! Move! he thought. He willed his feet to backpedal, but nothing was happening . . . Nothing! . . . Nothing! . . . Move!

  Xander’s leg shot between David and the doorframe. His foot sailed into Taksidian’s stomach. David felt himself tugged backward by his shirt. He stumbled over the threshold and spilled into the foyer. On the porch, Taksidian caught himself before hitting the steps, and leaped for Xander.

  But Xander was already swinging the door shut. It slammed, and he flipped the deadbolt, yelling at David, “Get up, Dae! Run! Upstairs! Go!”

  The door rattled under Taksidian’s impact against it.

  David sprang up, grabbed the newel post at the bottom the stairs, and swung himself around it. He leaped up the stairs, Xander right behind him. “Dad!” David screamed.

  “It’s Taksidian!” Xander hollered. “He’s at the door! It’s happening!”

  Dad met them at the top. “Get behind me!”

  The front door burst open. Taksidian strolled in, the knife clenched in one hand. He said, “Knock, knock,” as though he were bringing cookies.

  “Get out of here!” Dad yelled. He took a step down.

  “Dad, no!” David said, seizing his father’s arm. “He’s crazy.”

  Taksidian stopped at the base of the stairs. His eyes moved between David and Xander. “What is it with you two?” he said. “You just won’t die.” He showed them the big knife. “No more games.” He started up the stairs.

  Dad reached behind him. David thought A gun! Let him have a gun!

  But it was a mobile phone. Dad’s thumb flipped it open, as his other hand pushed back on David’s chest. David backed up into Toria. He hadn’t seen her come out of her room, but of course she would have.

  Dad’s phone fell to the floor. It spun and went between the balustrade’s railing. David heard it hit the foyer floor, and pieces danced around on the wood. As a group, they backed up to the wall. Taksidian’s head rose up . . . his shoulders . . . his chest . . . six steps from the top.

  “The closet,” Xander said. “Dae. Come on!”

  “No,” he said. “There’s not enough time for all of us to go through one at a time.”

  “Then all of us at once,” Xander said. His eyes were buggy with fear.

  “We can’t all fit, Xander,” David said. “And we don’t know what will happen if we try.”

  “Just you then,” Xander said, his voice now as shrill as a whistle.

  “I’m not leaving you. Any of you.” The possibility of one of them taking his place in the grave still haunted him.

  “Upstairs!” Dad said. “Move it.” He pushed David toward the false walls, then stepped forward to kick out at Taksidian, missing by a mile.

  Taksidian paused, but only long enough to stretch his smile wider and shake his head.

  David grasped his sister’s hand and pulled her around the corner toward the false walls. He banged his shoulder against the doorjamb. Xander and Dad ran up behind Toria.

  “He’s right behind us,” Dad said.

  “The room,” Xander said. “Between the walls. You said it was like a panic room. Let’s use it.”

  “It’s not finished,” Dad said, pushing them through the room to the next door. “There’s no latch on the inside, no way to keep it closed. Go!”

  They went up the stairs. David looked back to see Dad shutting the door in the nearest wall. There was a latch and lock on this side. “Lock it, Dad!” he yelled, knowing that was Dad’s plan but needing to say it anyway.

  Dad got the door closed and fumbled with the mechanism, trying to get the padlock off so he could snap it shut over the hasp.

  The door crashed open, Taksidian’s booted foot coming through the opening and pulling back into the darkness. He stepped into view and flashed the knife at Dad, who was scrambling backwards up the stairs. Dad spun and continued up without losing a second’s momentum.

  David hit the landing and turned into the hallway.

  A door at the end of the hall opened. Light burst from it, as bright as an explosion. David slid on the carpeted runner and sat down hard. Toria ran into him and tumbled. Xander’s knee slammed into David’s back, but his brother stayed up.

  Phemus lurched out of the antechamber, already swinging his arms and snarling like a wild animal.

  CHAPTER

  forty-eight

  SATURDAY, 12:33 P. M.

  The big man was covered only by a pelt around his waist. His skin was hairy and dirty and scarred. He turned toward them, and his eyes flashed with excitement. His wiry beard parted as his mouth formed a reptilian smile.

  How? David thought. The man’s timing was scary. He remembered Keal telling them about the light shining under the antechamber door, and wondered if waiting for a signal from Taksidian was something they did—Phemus was the army in the woods anticipating just the right time to attack.

  David noticed a second open antechamber door. His breath-ing stopped, and he waited for another Atlantian slave to come lumbering through.

  Then Dad said, “Toria, you’re still wearing the items from the antechamber.”

  David swung his head around and, sure enough, she was. How had he not noticed that bulky blanket-thing around her before? We were a little busy, he thought.

  Dad continued: “It locked the world in place. You can open the portal door. Run, girl, run! Do it!” He lifted her off the floor and pushed her toward the antechamber, then bent to help David.

  The open antechamber was halfway between them and Phemus. Toria stopped when she saw him. Xander brushed past David, picked her up, and disappeared with her into the room.

  Dad lifted David to his feet. When they reached the ante-chamber, Phemus was close enough to think he had them. He grunted out a laugh and swung his solid hands at them.

  David dived into the antechamber, ro
lled, and jumped up. Pain told him his broken arm had taken another bang, but he had no time for pain. The portal door stood open. Xander held Toria in his arms and leaned his shoulder against the door, making sure it didn’t shut. David knew that if the door wanted to close, it would no matter what, but he understood his brother’s desire to try.

  “Go!” Dad yelled, pressing his back against the hall door.

  Xander spun into the portal. He and Toria wavered behind it and dropped out of sight.

  The hallway door thumped. Dad jerked forward. It opened a few inches and shut again.

  “Dad,” David said, “they’ll follow us over!”

  “Grab the other items, Dae. On the bench.”

  David snatched up a pair of sandals, a coin, and some kind of whip with strands of leather attached to a wooden handle. “Got them!”

  The hallway door jarred open again, and Dad pushed it shut. He sprang forward, tackled David around the waist, and together they sailed into the portal. David’s stomach lurched. Sunlight struck his eyes, and he tumbled over something hard. He felt a sharp yank on his shoulder and realized he was dan-gling over a stone railing. Dad was leaning over it, gripping his wrist.

  Above and behind Dad, the portal shimmered. Phemus appeared in the rectangle, frowning down on them. He swiveled his head, and David thought he was looking for the antecham-ber items. The door swung around. Phemus saw it and got his fingers around the edge. They slipped off, and the door filled the portal. The sparkling rectangle broke apart and was gone.

  David looked down. He was hanging twenty feet above a stone-paved street. Most of the people in sight were draped in tunics. Several stared up at him. They pointed, directing others to turn and see. Directly below lay the sandals and whip he’d taken from the antechamber. An old man rushed over, picked them up, and shambled off.

  “Hey!” David yelled at him.

  “I got you,” Dad said.

  “I lost the items!”

  “That’s okay,” Dad said. “Toria has some, enough to get us home.” He pulled David up and over the railing.