Could someone be using his specimens to send a message? Was it even possible? He turned to ask Doctor and remembered. If he’d been physically present, he’d have kicked the corpse. If anyone thought they could use his laboratory, his specimens—well, they’d soon learn otherwise.
“I want every unsecured pin contained now, Tobias and by contained I mean eliminated.” The words were clipped, angry, but he lacked the ability to control that at the moment. “Take what resources you require.” He’d removed the automatons he needed for his assault on the base. What remained was expendable. And Tobias? He’d have to think about his future. “Burn down every building if you have to.” The whip or carrot? The female had survived for now. Perhaps a bit of both. “Do it and I’ll make you a present of the female. No strings attached.” He smiled, bringing out the whip. “Fail and you will both experience the most unpleasant experience I can fashion. Naturally she will experience it first, while you observe.”
He keyed in final transport orders for any specimens of use, including the female. If Tobias survived long enough, she might still prove useful in controlling him and if he didn’t, well, since she was expendable, she might provide a last bit of entertainment before he turned back time. He changed his virtual location, sure he didn’t need a response from Tobias. He’d do what he was told.
He turned his attention to the stream, looking for changes incurred by the time attack. It was worse than expected. The emotion clawing its way up his chest, the second since he’d looked at Halane’s photograph, took him by surprise. He had kept it under control for so long. Perhaps it was time to set it loose.
He took his internal temperature and found it was perfect for launching this attack.
It was time to take down the Time Base.
* * * *
Emily starred at the zombies with the same intensity that she wished she could ask Wynken and Blynken if they thought Robert got the message. She’d gone from not being able to ask, to wanting to ask, to afraid it would be bad luck to ask after so many years of not asking. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but not much did at the moment.
I’d like to get the bug off my finger now. She thought she’d been very restrained in the thought and she hadn’t screamed or hopped, but neither was far away if it wasn’t gone soon.
We were able to penetrate the bug through the soft underside!
You’re inside the bug. That’s totally gross. She wanted to bust out a question about its guts, but it was way too shallow for her first question ever, well, not ever, but in years.
We sent non-sentient drones in, Em.
Right. Of course—
“I don’t feel like dancing.” She blinked. That sounded like her voice saying that. She looked at the two girls still huddled against their respective walls and found them looking at her like she’d lost it. Again. They both so needed to, you know, get a new look or something.
“We are glad to hear it,” Glarmere said, though with obvious unease.
“I don’t feel like dancing.” She didn’t sing it, but it was a near thing. She felt like singing, wanted to sing it. She felt…like singing that she didn’t feel like dancing. She had sung it this morning right before she saw Robert. It’s a message! From Robert oh-my—from Robert. It felt like the nanites did a jig. Felt way weird, but not in a bad way, just in a weird way, which was almost like normal in this place. The zombies added a jig vibe to their song. That looks way worse than my moves. She felt the jig stop. Interesting that they seemed able to affect the zombies, too. So they aren’t taking over my brain, we’re taking over theirs. Or what’s left of theirs. Cool. She paused. Still want it off my finger. Just in case you were wondering.
If they can affect you, it would be better to get it off, Wynken agreed.
She liked him a lot.
Applying the metal edge of your pliers made it lift its legs the last time. I believe that will work again.
Okay, so she loved Blynken, too. Seriously. Real, lasting love for them both and Nod. She felt them wriggle with what felt like pleasure, like two puppies in her head. Different, but okay. She found the pliers where she’d dropped them during her initial bug panic and applied them as suggested. Dang, if the creepy little brass bug didn’t lift its creepy little brass legs. She pulled it loose, not embarrassed to expel a huge sigh of relief. She eyed it with extreme prejudice, fighting an urge to toss it out the window. A pity it was her only way to contact Robert. I suppose I should keep it.
Totally, girl. Might need to take them over again or something.
They felt sorry about it, which helped. If she dropped it in her pocket, it might latch on to her again. She thought for a moment.
“Right.” Pulled out a mint dispenser, dispensed them all, popped the bug inside, and snapped the lid shut. It flexed its tiny legs a bit, before subsiding with a near life-like resignation. She probably imagined the hint of sulk about it. Or not.
“Be glad you aren’t squashed on the floor right now,” she told it. She dropped the bugged dispenser in her pocket, took a couple of mints and held the rest out to the two girls. “Breath mints.”
She had to hide a giggle in a cough when they both checked their breath and then took some. It seemed even ET and his alien sidekick worried about halitosis.
How do you plan to get to the warehouse? Blynken’s question was politely phrased, but Emily felt the nudge in it.
She responded by peering out the window, because they all knew she didn’t have a plan. The zombies appeared to have resumed normal operation, which seemed to be all about searching. That’s a lot of searching going on out there. A whole lot of searching. A whole lot of zombies. She frowned. She’d almost think they were looking for more than just one automaton escapee, but the airship couldn’t land around here. Even as the thought formed in her head, her chin lifted. It might could land on a roof—
She’d hit the second landing of the second floor before she remembered the two girls, abandoned to an uncertain fate. No sound of footsteps following this time, so it seemed they didn’t mind. Not that they’d be missed. She took the last flight before the roof two at a time and wasn’t even winded. Sweet. The door stuck a bit and she used a shoulder. That hurt, but Wynken or maybe Blynken fixed that. The door burst open. She half fell, half leaped out into the open.
Up top, it felt closer to the angry sky, which had gotten angrier since she last saw it, which it could have if the shrinking was top down, too, and not just side to side. Lightning cut through the dingy grey with a regularity that could almost be clocked, which was a bit un-lightning-like. The air felt damp and left a nasty residue on her tongue. Almost afraid to find out she was wrong, she started a scan of the surrounding rooftops. She’d almost completed her circuit, with hope spiraling down, when she saw the downed airship on the last building left to look at, its envelope drooping over the gondola in a particularly forlorn manner. At first she thought she was too late, that it had been abandoned, but then she saw the huddle of people near the furthest edge from where she stood.
Not-green giant wasn’t there, which might be cause for concern, but then her gaze alighted on Robert, which pretty much cleared her mental decks of any and all side thoughts. To believe she’d never see him again and then to see him, well, if the peeps hadn’t been helping out, her knees would have given way. As it was, she swayed a bit and opened her mouth to shout his name to the rooftops, or maybe the top of the snow globe.
No names.
Hey seemed wrong for the moment, which felt portentous—as if he felt her gaze, he turned, searching the roof tops for what seemed a very long moment before alighting on her. It was as good as a movie moment as he stared at her staring at him. Then he launched toward her at a dead run, which was actually pretty fast.
Emily heard a sound behind her. A quick, reluctant-to-quit-looking-at-Robert glance told the tale. Zombies incoming. No head count with them all trying to push up the stairs at the same time, but it looked like a bit more than even a ninja could take. See
med like a good moment to reciprocate the movie run toward the guy, only without the slow motion part. Thankfully the zombies had slow motion taken care of.
Her legs seemed to stride further, each step almost like flying. For the first time since she’d realized she wasn’t dreaming, Emily felt like she could take flight, like seriously fly, or least leap the distance that separated her from Robert.
She felt cautious concurrence from Wynken, a hint of doubt from Blynken. A sort of transparent ruler thing appeared in her head, or maybe before her eyes, calculating distance and trajectory. She heard shouting and saw Robert waving at her through the…HUD—a heads up display—and she wanted to wave back, but her arms and legs needed all the pumping she and the nanites could manage for her to make the gap.
You’re not going to get enough lift, girlfriend. Blynken had gone from hint of doubt to seriously worried.
Without missing a step, Emily shifted toward a slab of something that looked a lot like a ramp leading up to the parapet. Part of her wondered what the freak she was doing thinking about distance and lift factor and the whole plan to soar the distance, but most of her saw only Robert, most of her felt like she could leap to the moon to get to him, though she was glad he wasn’t on the moon. Her world narrowed to him, his face, his eyes, his dropped jaw, his growing look of horror. He shouted something, but Emily heard only the sound of the icky air rushing past her as she went up the ramp and launched.
That’s when the sense of time slowing kicked in as she flew through the air, as she leaned, strained, mentally clawed toward Robert. It slowed even more when the numbers running through her HUD came up a few inches short of clearing the parapet.
“Oh, crap,” she drew the two words out as time sped up again. Great timing, time, way to speed up when she was on a collision course with a stone parapet.
She hit the peak of her arc and started the down the other side, the numbers changing too fast for her to know which part of her would clear the parapet—if any—and which wouldn’t.
Robert looked grim and braced to grab her after impact, which was sweet but still involved an impact, and when things seemed as dicey as they could be, the tremor hit. The building shook, making him stagger. That was expected when enduring a tremor. What wasn’t logical was that time shifting feeling again, only this time, it seemed like she saw through this reality, saw through Robert, saw through their time into another New York, one where it was day and a woman in old-fashioned clothes hung other clothes on a line strung across the roof, while some kids played a game off to the side.
And then Robert blinked out of view, leaving her flying toward a roof without him.
* * * *
Smith felt the compulsion to obey and an almost equal compulsion to fail. The laboratory, no, the alternate reality, was collapsing and the master had sent him into it to wreak final havoc on the prisoners before they all blinked out of existence. He’d seen it shrink, seen people, not specimens, vanishing as time unraveled. Were they disappearing in the order they’d arrived, or was it more random than that? If it was in order, then his turn was coming, he could almost feel time snapping at his heels, eager to take him. Were they returning to their lives or blinking out of existence? He wanted to turn and welcome it, but if he did, would the master take Olivia from this place? It would be like him to do that if he thought his faithful slave hadn’t given his best effort. If he thought she’d vanish—but she’d been collected later. Had to be a late collection when the master somehow sensed Smith’s interest. Until then, she was of no interest to him. He’d brought this on her, brought this on all versions of her. There could be more than one of her caught in this trap.
And if he did as he was told, would the master keep his word? If he did keep his word, it would be with conditions and only for as long as it suited him. He still wasn’t sure he could control him. It gave him the courage to fight it, his mind searching for ways and means. He could die here, but he wouldn’t die at peace as long as the monster lived. There had to be a way to stop him. And as his mind fought the control device, his body marched in the center of a group of the larger, dumber automatons. No sign of the soldier automatons. What did that mean? The storm was worse, also the tremors.
No question this place was closing down. He knew the signs, he’d seen them enough.
One of the big automatons tripped and staggered into a building, knocking a chunk of masonry lose. As it fell, the reality shimmered, allowing him a glimpse of real time, real New York. If only there were a way in—it vanished, taking the automaton’s arm and the chunk of rock with it.
He’d been bouncing in and out of realities for several lifetimes. Surely he could find a way—a female with a wrench. Who was she and how had she arrived? The monster hadn’t known. The monster was right about one thing. It was interesting. If she could arrive without an invitation, might she also know how to leave?
* * * *
Just when Robert thought he’d made progress at expecting the unexpected, Em killed that belief twice in less than a minute. First, by popping into view on the neighboring rooftop—making his heart thump with delight. He had to run toward her, though he knew he couldn’t get to her. So at first, when she reciprocated the dash it took him several seconds to realize it wasn’t going to stop at the parapet. Surely she couldn’t, she wouldn’t—this wasn’t just the unexpected. It was the crazy! His heart tried to shift from delight to horror, which hurt, and shock froze his brain, leaving him unable to process the mathematics of her chances being fed to him by Nod. He shouted, tried to wave her off, anything and everything—even as he willed her to make it, because she wasn’t going to stop. The zombies tumbling out onto the rooftop partly explained her desire to take flight, but not wholly. Not completely. He wasn’t sure which would be harder to watch. Her fighting off zombies or her trying to leap the gap.
And then the snow globe shook again, almost knocking him to his knees. He grabbed the parapet, determined to be in position to catch her when she got close enough, or even if she didn’t. He would not let her fall. Or if he couldn’t stop it, he’d fall with her. As horrified as he was, his heart shifted to delight again, and time felt slow, so slow, as she tracked toward him, her face lit with the joy of her unconventional trip, her arms extended toward him.
Just a few more feet—the horizon flickered again and it seemed that they were both in another place, a different New York from this one, or in both places? He wasn’t sure. Almost, he thought he heard children’s voices behind him, but he couldn’t look away from Em. A flicker, like electricity and Em disappeared with the alternate New York.
“No!” The word came out a strangled protest and he reached toward where she’d been—another flicker and she was back, her hands scrabbling for a hold on unyielding stone and failing to find it. Even as he processed her presence, his hands clamped onto her wrists. She slammed into the side of the building, then gravity grabbed at her, almost yanking him over the edge with her. Someone grabbed him from behind and together they pulled her up and over, collapsing in a small heap on the gritty surface.
“Thanks,” he muttered, as he dug through the huddle that was the three of them until he got his arms around Em. He yanked her close, checking her for damage, running his hands over non-controversial parts of her body, while her name ran through his brain like a litany, and tried to crawl out his throat. She returned the favor, running her hands over the parts of him she could reach while clutched to his chest. She opened her mouth to say something, but he didn’t give her a chance. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t hold her tight enough, couldn’t kiss her long enough…
Em. Nowhere for the sigh to go, so it turned into an ache that was also pleasure as he inhaled Em beneath the other smells they’d both picked up along the way. The sound of several throats clearing didn’t change his focus until they did it again. And again. Finally, reluctantly, he lifted his mouth half an inch from hers. Stared deep into her brown eyes and knew he didn’t want to ever not be able to se
e her. Ever. She could go to the bathroom by herself, but that was it. Her gaze softened. The edges of her mouth tipped up.
“Oh…”
He had a feeling, a hope that she’d finished that with my darling. She leaned her head on his chest and sighed so deep he felt it in his gut.
“It’s touching, but we need to decide on a new course of—” the Colonial’s voice cut off.
Robert finally lifted his chin, trying to find a zone where he could see Em and see the Colonial, but he was gone. Biker, too. Sadly the Belle remained, her expression as sour as she looked and smelled. The horizon shimmered again and then she and Purple vanished, too. The former zombie didn’t seem to notice.
“They’re gone.” Emily peered around, just to be sure. “Just like the one I de-zombified and his zombie gang I went ninja on.”
“Who’s gone?” not-zombie asked.
“How come we know it, but he doesn’t?” Robert wondered for them both.
“Who doesn’t know what?” The not-zombie looked around, but there was no one else to find. “What?”
“And I thought the not-Belle was irritating.”
“I de-zombified him,” Robert explained, with a hint of apology in his voice. “He’s having trouble adjusting.” Trying to keep her as close as possible during the process, Robert got them both on their feet. Em didn’t fight him and might have clung a bit. A ruckus in the street had them exchanging looks, then easing up to the parapet that overlooked the street to take a look. A cluster of zombies had two men, two loudly protesting men.
“It’s the girls. I did warn them about the zombies, but they didn’t believe me.”
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