Gary and Hodge were already gone.
THIRTY-FIVE
Jonah just lay sprawled on the concrete for a long moment. He could practically feel the bruises starting to form on his elbows and knees. And maybe on the side of his face as well.
But what does it matter if all of time’s about to end? he asked himself.
No. Not all of time. Just his time, where he’d spent almost his entire life.
My adopted time. Which I’m now ruining just as much as I ruined my adopted family, Jonah thought.
It felt like he deserved the pain shooting through his body.
Shake it off, Jonah told himself. Play through the pain.
He felt like he was quoting somebody—oh yeah, his soccer coach thirteen years from now.
So stop lying here, Jonah told himself. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Get up and—
And what? What could Jonah possibly do to stop Gary and Hodge’s plan? He didn’t have an Elucidator. He couldn’t get out of this time period or do anything to fix it. He couldn’t contact any time agents, and even if he could, they couldn’t get in to help him. He did know plenty of people in this time period—but none of them would recognize him as a thirteen-year-old. His own parents wouldn’t recognize him.
And now they never will, Jonah thought, blinking hard. They’ll never have a chance to be my parents.
Maybe Gary and Hodge were lying about that? Maybe they were lying about everything?
Jonah looked over at the baby version of himself, who seemed to be sleeping entirely too peacefully for an infant who’d been dropped and dangled by his wrist and ankle only moments ago.
Sedated, Jonah thought dully. Just like Gary and Hodge said they always do with babies. That part of their story checks out.
In his sleep the baby twisted his face, as if concentrating hard on some dream. That one action made him look exactly like the hundreds of pictures Jonah’s parents had taken the day he’d arrived.
There was no question that this really was the infant version of Jonah.
What about an identical twin? Jonah thought stubbornly. A clone? Gary and Hodge could have faked everything, and—
Gary and Hodge were lazy. There was no reason they would have bothered faking a clone and then telling Jonah such a long story about splitting time if none of it was true.
And anyhow, why weren’t time agents right this minute rescuing Jonah, if Gary and Hodge had been lying about Jonah’s doubled presence splitting time?
And why would Gary and Hodge have just left Jonah behind, unattended, if there was anything he could do to stop or undo their plan?
Jonah slumped helplessly against the cold concrete beneath him. Beside him, the baby version of himself opened his tiny mouth in a jaw-splitting yawn.
Mom and Dad had taken plenty of pictures of him doing that, too, on their first day with him. Jonah had looked at the pictures so much that he apparently had every single one of them still memorized; he’d heard Mom and Dad’s story of his arrival so many times that he had the words ingrained in his mind: We thought it would be years and years and years before we’d get a baby, and then that call came out of the blue the week before Christmas, and they said we could have him right away, and he was so cute, with his big eyes and his dimples and all that brown hair . . .
Jonah could even remember the negotiations Mom and Dad had had over the wording of the story—Jonah would have called his hair blond when he was little, but Katherine as a toddler had always insisted everyone call it brown because it was darker than her own. And she got her way because Jonah didn’t care.
Now none of that would happen—not the pictures, not the story, not Katherine’s stubbornness in claiming Jonah as her brother by laying down the law about how everyone described him.
Katherine and I won’t even be brother and sister anymore in any branch of time, Jonah thought, with an ache that had nothing to do with the pain in his knees and elbow.
Would Mom and Dad even get to be parents at all, with this branch of time probably ending even before Katherine was born?
“They really were great parents,” Jonah whispered to the baby version of himself. “I mean, are. Will be. Should be . . .”
In his sleep the baby startled at the sound of Jonah’s voice, throwing his arms out, and then gradually letting them relax.
Jonah had also seen himself do that exact motion in the hours of home video Mom and Dad had filmed during their early days of having baby Jonah. In the video Mom and Dad laughed and cuddled their new baby and said sappy things like, “This is the happiest moment of our lives. I can’t imagine being any happier than we are right now.”
Never. Going. To. Happen. Now, Jonah told himself, trying to shut down the memories and all the sappy emotions they encouraged.
But if this time period was going to end in a matter of minutes or hours or days, what did it matter if he went out acting tough or sobbing like a little baby? If there wasn’t anything Jonah could do to stop Gary and Hodge from splitting time, why did it matter what he did?
Because . . . isn’t there still something I could do? Jonah wondered. Something God would want me to do, something . . . right?
He guessed he could be as stubborn as Katherine. He didn’t like to give up either.
Katherine . . .
He really did need to pull himself together. If he did have only a matter of minutes or hours or days left, he didn’t want to spend the whole time driving himself crazy being sad.
Katherine’s going to be okay in the future, he told himself. The other missing kids too. They’ll be fine. And me—well, at least I got thirteen good years. I wasn’t Charles Lindbergh’s famous son, but at least I didn’t die of malnutrition as a toddler. I got life with Mom and Dad and Katherine.
It was useless trying to talk himself into being cheerful about being trapped and having his life end. He rolled over and kicked the wall.
“Gary and Hodge weren’t supposed to win!” he snarled.
That felt good, even though it made his toes ache from the impact with the wall. Shoes from the 1920s weren’t as cushioning as the ones he was used to. It just felt good to do something, rather than lying around moaning and groaning. Jonah stood up so he could kick the wall with more force.
“Time wasn’t supposed to split!”
Another kick.
“I shouldn’t be stuck in this time period!” Kick. “I’m not supposed to be in this time period at all!”
Well, technically, he guessed, if he were born the same time as the Lindbergh baby, maybe he was supposed to be in this time period—as an old man. Maybe that was why he’d never felt out of place in the twenty-first century, the way Chip said he always had.
But maybe that out-of-place feeling for Chip was more because Chip got lousy parents who were mean to him, while Jonah’s did nothing but tell him how wonderful he was and how grateful they were to have him and Katherine. Even though everything Jonah knew in this time period had started out with an accident—Gary and Hodge randomly crashing the planeload of babies—it had all seemed so right, his entire childhood. JB could get theological or philosophical or whatever you called it about time travel and fate and destiny and God’s plan, and before, all that talk had always just made Jonah’s head hurt. He didn’t understand it. But there were some things that made perfect sense to him.
“No matter what, my parents were supposed to be my parents!” he yelled, kicking the wall again. This contradicted what he’d said a moment ago about not belonging in this time period, but he didn’t care. Ranting about his parents felt so good that he began pounding his fists against the wall too. He was like a little kid, kicking and screaming and throwing a tantrum.
“This is wrong! This is so wrong! Why is everything so messed up? Why can’t I fix anything? Why do I have to die this way? Why can’t I even say good-bye to my parents? Why can’t they even get one stinking moment of being parents?”
Someone else was screaming with him. No—it was the baby crying. Jonah had been s
creaming and kicking and pounding his fists so loudly that he’d awakened the sedated baby.
Jonah turned around and awkwardly picked up the baby version of himself.
“Sorry, kid, I’m no good with babies,” Jonah mumbled.
The baby hit at Jonah with his fists. In another mood Jonah would have found it funny that his baby self was reacting the same way as his thirteen-year-old self. But in this moment having a baby hit him just made him madder.
“Hey, kid, it’s not my fault you’re stuck with me,” Jonah grumbled. “It’s not my fault we’re ruining time together. It’s not my fault you don’t already have Mom taking care of you right this—”
He stopped, jolted. It was true: Jonah hadn’t caused any of this baby’s problems. Jonah hadn’t done anything wrong, but he’d failed anyway. He’d ended up trapped and outsmarted and alone. He couldn’t think of anything he could do now to stop Gary and Hodge or undo their time split.
But there was still one thing he could fix, one thing he could do before he died and everything he’d ever known ended. One thing that would be perfect and right and good, even as everything else went wrong.
He could deliver the baby version of himself to Mom and Dad.
THIRTY-SIX
Jonah moved instantly, smashing his shoulder against the door and stepping back into the main part of the airport. How much time did he have—minutes? Hours? Days? Hours and days were good; minutes would mean he had to move fast.
The baby was startled enough by the sudden motion that he stopped crying—or maybe he just liked the warmth and lights of the airport terminal. The door snapped shut behind Jonah, making him jump.
Doesn’t matter that I didn’t prop it open, he told himself. It’s not like I’m coming back.
Jonah quickly jerked his head around, barely seeing the bright lights and the crowd and the Christmas ornaments. He wasn’t looking for Angela this time—what could she do to help him?
It’s not like I could ask her to drive me to Mom and Dad’s, he thought. It’s not like she’d say, “Of course I can, kid-I-don’t-even-know-who’s-acting-strange! Of course I’ll take you anywhere you want to go!”
It wasn’t like any of the other people he saw walking by would do that either.
So . . . do I get help from the adoption agency? Do I ask to borrow someone’s cell phone and call and . . .
And say what? “This baby has to be delivered immediately to the Skidmores because . . .”
Jonah couldn’t think of any excuse that didn’t sound insane. And anyhow, he knew from his aunt Joan and uncle Brad adopting his cousin Mia that everything with adoption agencies took forever. Months had passed between the time they’d first announced, “We’re getting a baby!” and the moment when Mia had actually arrived.
I’m pretty sure that’s how adoption usually works, Jonah thought. Mom and Dad just got me fast because the FBI wanted the babies from the plane taken care of quickly.
The FBI wasn’t involved this time around, and if Jonah only had minutes or hours or days, there wasn’t time for getting the adoption agency’s help.
You’ve got feet, Jonah told himself. Use them. Mom and Dad don’t live that far from the airport.
He rushed out of the secure section of the airport terminal, following other people down through the baggage claim and out the exit doors toward the darkness beyond.
It was freezing outside.
So? You’ve dealt with cold this bad before, Jonah reminded himself. You’re in middle school! Middle schoolers never wear coats!
But Jonah was holding on to a baby covered in only a thin sleeper and a flimsy blanket. And Jonah remembered from his Boy Scout first-aid training that babies were much more likely to die from hypothermia than anyone else.
“Are you in the taxi-stand line or not?” someone asked behind him.
Taxi? Jonah thought. What a great idea!
But before Jonah had a chance to answer the person behind him, a second voice chimed in snottily, “You know the minimum fare from the airport to anywhere is thirty dollars. Do you have thirty dollars with you, little boy?”
Jonah could have whirled around and protested, I’m not a little boy! But first he checked his pockets.
Nothing. He had no money with him at all.
“Sorry,” he muttered to the surly people behind him.
He stepped back toward the terminal.
I am going to have to call the adoption agency, he thought. Or ask someone for help or money, or . . .
He’d had this image in his head of taking the baby version of himself directly to Mom and Dad’s house, and getting to see the three of them happy together in the home he’d known his entire life. But maybe all he could do was call Mom and Dad?
He tried to imagine what he could say to Mom and Dad to lure them to the airport: I’ve got a baby to give you. But you have to come and get it in person.
Mom and Dad had always told Jonah and Katherine about how badly they’d wanted kids before Jonah and Katherine arrived. Those were the eager, desperate people Mom and Dad were right now. But they were just eager and desperate, not crazy. They wouldn’t believe that a kid-sounding voice calling out of the blue on a Wednesday evening would be able to legally give them the baby they’d always wanted.
The baby squirmed in Jonah’s arms, and Jonah felt like squirming just as impatiently. Why did every idea he’d had since stepping out of the stairwell seem stupid? Couldn’t he do even this one thing before everything ended?
Jonah glanced around frantically. People weren’t just lining up to get taxis. They were climbing onto buses and vans under signs that said, PARKING LOT SHUTTLE, RENTAL CAR SHUTTLE, and HOTEL SHUTTLE.
Maybe I could stow away in one of those shuttles, and then . . .
Getting to the airport parking lot or a rental car lot wouldn’t do him any good. But a hotel—there were hotels all over the city. Jonah didn’t have to get himself and the baby right to his parents’ doorstep; he just had to get close.
He rushed up to a shedlike structure under the hotel sign. On the outside of the shed there was a list of hotels that ran shuttles.
Airport Hilton, Airport Marriott, Renaissance Hotel Downtown, Holiday Inn Express of Liston . . .
Jonah’s parents lived in Liston. And Jonah knew where the Holiday Inn Express was—he’d been to birthday parties there when he was younger and the big trend was to book a hotel so everyone could swim in the hotel pool.
The Holiday Inn Express was still probably three or four miles away from his parents’ house.
“Can we make it?” Jonah whispered to the baby version of himself.
The baby was already shivering. Its face looked oddly pale in the fluorescent light beaming from the shuttle signs.
Jonah turned and sprinted back into the airport. He ran over to an information desk.
“Is there a lost and found here somewhere?” he asked the elderly man sitting at the desk. “I dropped my baby brother’s coat, and it’s so cold outside . . . maybe someone turned it in?”
“We can look together,” the man said, standing up. Jonah could almost hear the man’s bones creaking.
The man seemed to move at the pace of about a centimeter an hour. Jonah could barely stand not to race ahead of him.
“My parents are waiting,” Jonah said. “Could you just tell me where the lost and found is, and I’ll look myself?”
And grab whatever looks warm? he thought to himself.
Probably the man could tell Jonah was thinking that, because the man shook his head. Slowly.
“Against . . . protocol,” he said, speaking as slowly as he walked. “I’m not allowed to give the key to anyone else. Because what if you didn’t bring it back?”
Jonah might not have brought it back. Not now, not when everything was about to end.
They finally reached a nondescript door, and the man took forever putting the key in, unlocking the door, and turning on the lights.
“On that table,” the man said
, gesturing toward a pile of mittens and gloves and scarves and even an odd coat or two.
There wasn’t a single item that looked the slightest bit babyish.
Jonah took a deep breath, trying to come up with a convincing lie.
Maybe, “My parents don’t believe in buying baby clothes? And they’re penny-pinchers. So they bought Junior a coat he could wear until he’s twenty or it falls apart, whichever comes first”? Jonah thought.
Was that really the best he could come up with?
Before Jonah could say anything, the man let out a deep sigh.
“Look,” he said. “Everything on that side of the table has been here for ages. We’re scheduled to donate all of it to a homeless shelter tomorrow. So just take whatever you think will keep your brother warm until you get home. Then have your mom or dad donate it themselves.”
“Thank you!” Jonah cried. “Thank you!”
It was strange how much Jonah felt like crying right now.
Because this must show that this was meant to be, he thought. My parents are supposed to get me. They are. They are. They are.
Jonah grabbed the nearest coat and took off running.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Jonah’s luck held: The Holiday Inn Express shuttle was just pulling up to the curb as he sprinted toward the stop. He crowded up close to a couple with two little kids between them, so the shuttle driver would think Jonah and the baby were just the oldest and youngest brothers in the family.
Nobody said anything to him as he stepped onto the shuttle.
This is working, this is working . . . , Jonah told himself excitedly.
As long as he focused on delivering the baby to Mom and Dad, he wouldn’t have to think about how he’d failed at everything else.
Jonah settled into a dark seat at the back of the shuttle bus. That wouldn’t seem strange to anyone, would it? Couldn’t he just act like a surly teenager who resented getting stuck taking care of his baby brother?
If people only knew, Jonah thought.
As the shuttle bus pulled away from the curb and out into traffic, Jonah stared back at the airport. Jonah hadn’t exactly spent huge portions of his childhood hanging out at the airport, so he didn’t have much to go on. But everything he could see looked calm and unremarkable: people walked in and out of the terminal at a normal pace; there were no screaming sirens and flashing lights, no emergency vehicles—or cars labeled FBI—speeding onto the scene.
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