“I’m sure. That’s the one.”
Milo nods, accepting her confirmation, but whatever it was they’ve decided doesn’t seem like good news. Milo gets to his feet and faces the rest of us, brushing the dirt off his knees before he speaks.
“We have a problem.” His tone is factual and lacking emotion. “I’ve just confirmed something Kara and I have suspected for a while now.” He scratches his head, then gestures to Kara. “You may know Kara is from farther ahead than most of us. We’ve all come from the twenty-one, or twenty-two hundreds.” He pauses and looks at me. “Well, some of you are from earlier. But, we’re all from more or less near the central primes. None of us have come from the area of timestreams Kara has, that’s Negative Epsilon Vega. And she’s from 2420.”
The reactions on the faces of the other racers are a mix of incredulity and confusion. Genesis stares at Kara as if she’s suddenly sprouted wings.
“We know you’ve heard stories and read the warnings. What you won’t know is that Kara signed up for this race as a guide because she suspected the chronothon committee was up to something unusual in her home world, and now we have proof she’s right. The committee set up two time gates there. The first is the other side of this doorway.”
Cliff practically spits out his rebuttal. “There’s no way in hell the committee could get away with sending us to a blacklisted stream. They’re prohibited by ASCOTT.” He steps away from his post by the stairs and points to the conduit. “Hell, they’re prohibited by anyone with half a brain. They rounded up the anchors and cut off all the paths they could find to keep people from getting back from there.” He eyes Kara with something akin to suspicion.
“That’s true, but it doesn’t change our situation.”
“How could they set up a gate there?” Jettison asks. “That’s why we don’t go there. No one can. It’s . . . it’s impossible.”
“Not impossible,” Kara says. “Just . . . dangerous.”
“We’ve got fifteen minutes left to decide.” Milo gestures to his bracelet. “It’s there or we stay here.”
Genesis makes a choking sound and shakes her head. Deanna has gone ashen white.
I raise my hand. “Hey, not to sound like a dumbass, because I’m clearly the odd man out here, but nothing could be worse than this place, right?” I point to the cavern beyond the cave mouth. “I’m not up on all the timestreams, but where Kara’s from, what could they have that’s worse than giant worms and alien, body-snatching zombies?”
The faces of my companions are all serious. Finally it’s Jettison who answers.
“They have the Zealots.”
“One of the sweetest blessings of time travel is getting to see people who have passed away and also meet those not yet born. Treasure those moments, but use them sparingly. There is a reason we learn to let go, and a reason we let live. Sometimes love thrives most in our absence.” –Journal of Dr. Harold Quickly, 1983
Chapter 27
A small square of fabric under the woman’s right breast is still clean. Lavender. She’s wearing a lavender sundress. The rest of the dress is covered in filth and tattered, but that one patch of color has survived her years of wandering in this forsaken place. As she stands at the top of the stairs with gaunt cheeks and knotted hair, her mouth opening and closing below hazy, yellowed eyes, I can’t help but wonder what she was doing on her last day as a human being that caused her to put on such an outfit. Did she have a date?
Jettison and Cliff both notice the intruder at the same time, but it’s Cliff who steps over to deal with it. He raises his shotgun and shoves the barrel into her face. The creature opens its mouth at his approach, her eyes widening, and gets the muzzle shoved between her teeth for her efforts. Cliff’s movements are angry: sharp and forceful. I drop my eyes back to that single clean patch of color on her chest and wait for the blast of the gun. It doesn’t come. As Cliff watches her chew on the gun muzzle like a teething child, his angry expression softens a little. His rage seems to melt into resignation and maybe a bit of sadness. He yanks the gun muzzle out of the woman’s mouth, leans back and kicks her. His heavy boot connects with the tiny square of lavender and the woman flies backward. Her fingers and toes, reluctant to follow, hang in front of her as she’s launched free of the earth and out into the void. For one distinct moment, tangled hair, yellowed eyes, and the once-lavender sundress dangle in midair before they succumb to darkness and gravity.
Cliff stares over the edge for only a second, then turns back to the rest of us, clustered around the time gate. “They can have this goddamn hellhole, and they can have the next one. Once we get back to the proper planet, we’re out.” He slings his shotgun over his shoulder and looks from Jettison to Genesis. “I told your dad I’d do my best to keep you two safe out here, but none of us ever thought that meant putting you through this. He’d want us to pull the plug.”
Jettison’s jaw works a little, but he doesn’t argue. He hands Genesis her pack and shoulders his own, then he turns to Milo. “Where we’re headed, facing the Zealots, what’s the situation going to be like?”
Milo consults one of his tablets. “We’re looking at a sector seven district, Northwest America . . .”
The dog lets out a whine and my eyes fall on Harrison, slumped against the wall. Barley is standing next to him. Harrison’s head has fallen to his shoulder and his lips are slightly parted. The muscles of his face have relaxed, and in the light of his miniature lantern his face glows a pale white. His chest isn’t moving. I put a hand to his wrist and feel for a pulse.
“Mr. Harrison?” Jonah grabs his other hand. The boy gives it a shake, but the arm is limp in his grasp. I feel no pulse.
“He’s gone, Jonah.”
Jonah keeps his grip on Harrison’s hand as he looks up at me. “But he saved me. He can’t be gone.”
“He saved me, too.” I lay Harrison’s arm back at his side. “We both owe him for that.”
The group lapses into silence as we circle around the body of our fallen friend. We stay there with our own thoughts until Bozzle speaks. “We cannot leave his body here for the creatures to befoul. It would be dishonorable.”
Genesis reaches into her pocket and extracts the winged anchor. Jettison takes it from her and repeats the process he used on Preston’s body, setting Harrison’s Temprovibe for him with the anchor pressed firmly into his hand. The body vanishes.
Jettison collects the anchor and Cliff hands him the ascension gun. “Get him somewhere out of reach.”
As Jettison secures the anchor to the rail of the gun, Genesis scans her flashlight across the ceiling of the main cavern. Her light stops on a dark alcove above a row of stalactites. “How about up there?”
Jettison raises the ascension gun and takes aim. When he squeezes the trigger, the metal ball launches off the end and makes a shallow arc into the darkness of the alcove. I see the wings deploy on the anchor just before it disappears into the hole and out of sight.
“So long, Wabash,” Cliff mutters. He picks up his pack from the tunnel floor. “That man was a legend. He deserved better.”
I stare at the hole where the anchor disappeared then drop my eyes to the Admiral’s bracelet in my hand. “Thank you, Harrison.” It’s as much a prayer now as a thank you. “Hope you’re someplace better.”
The blinking display on the Admiral’s bracelet matches the one on my own wrist. Both are flashing twelve minutes. I turn to Milo. “So how will this work? I have two bracelets now.”
Milo stands up and reaches for my wrist. “We’ll have to ditch yours. You’re supposed to be dead anyway, so it shouldn’t matter.” He pulls a tool out of his bag that resembles a pair of pliers. He slips the jaws around my bracelet and squeezes, but instead of tightening, the jaws emit a flash of energy that neatly slices through the metal. The display screen instantly goes dead, and the metal ends of the bracelet smoke where they’ve been separated. He rotates the bracelet on my wrist and zaps it again on the other side. The two halve
s drop to the soft dirt at my feet.
“The Admiral’s bracelet will open the gate once you install his objective. The bracelet may have recorded some irregularities in the transition from the Admiral, to Wabash, to you, but it’s still functioning, and as far as I can tell, the time gate hasn’t recognized either of them as deceased. Viznir can take Wabash’s spot and you follow him through as the Admiral. I’ll wait till you’re through to make sure it works.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“Should we expect trouble on the other side?” Jettison has finished reloading his gun and holsters it.
Milo glances over to Kara. She’s lacing herself into an armored leather jacket. “Yeah. I think so.”
I take the opportunity to retrieve my own jacket from my pack and slip my arms through. The leather is scuffed and a few patches look like they’ve gotten wet during the race, but I feel better having an extra layer of protection between me and whatever is coming. I stuff Dr. Quickly’s journal and Abe’s tool tin into the inside pocket and slip Mym’s degravitizer into my back pants pocket where it’s handy. Lightening the pack seems like a good idea, so I take the opportunity to dump out the now useless bullets for Viznir’s gun. I leave the boxes in the dirt and straighten up to find Viznir watching me. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes travel from my face to the little pile of ammo before looking away. Kara has finished attaching her goggles to a military-style riot helmet and secures it to her head. Milo points to the alcoves in the wall. “Let’s get going. We’re almost out of time.”
Cliff addresses the entire group. “Okay, here’s the deal. We rally on the other side of this thing, and assuming we’re back on the right damn planet, we make a plan to head for home. Wherever that might be.” Cliff looks up to Bozzle, but the alien merely nods. Cliff addresses me next. “I’m going to head for the race start. If you want to come with me, you’re welcome. Someone on the committee designed this course and at least a few yahoos approved it. It’s time we pay them a visit.”
Jettison and Cliff line up first, followed by Genesis and Deanna. Bozzle takes his place behind the girls and, from my spot behind him, I search over his body for where his guide could be located. Viznir had been sure the alien has one, but as I look over his tattooed arms and neck and down the streamlined silver compartments of his cargo pack, I see no evidence of it. Is it hiding in his pack? Viznir slides into position in front of me, blocking my view, and I have to discontinue my search.
Jonah and the dog line up behind me, and Kara takes the spot at the rear. Milo is positioned by the repository holes and has each of the objectives laid out in order in front of them. The decorative chain that Jettison found goes into its receptacle first and the circumference of the tunnel shimmers with its multicolored light.
I’ve been loath to bring down the barrier of tension between Viznir and me. I’m still angry about his betrayal, but at the moment, my concern about what we’re walking into takes precedence.
“Hey, Viznir. What do you know about this? Who are the Zealots?”
Viznir shakes his head and keeps his eyes fixed on the gate. “I don’t know. I’ve just heard rumors, but they’re a religious group that hates time travelers. I know that much. Their religion teaches that time travel is an abomination. Nobody goes to their timestreams.”
I keep my voice low to keep from worrying Jonah behind me. “Why? Are they that dangerous? What do they do to time travelers?”
“People don’t talk about it much. Like I said, nobody goes there, or at least nobody comes back. That’s why your friend means to get us out of there fast.”
“Shit.” I loosen the revolver in my holster and keep my palm on the handle. Jettison and Cliff vanish into the gate and Milo loads the night vision goggles into the next repository hole. Genesis checks her bracelet and gives Deanna the signal. I watch intently as her blonde hair vanishes into the swirl of color. The gate doesn’t close or reject her and I exhale. Genesis follows Deanna through. The plan is working so far. I glance back at Jonah who has his hand on Barley’s neck. Wherever we’re going, at least we’re headed there together. The gate shimmers again for Bozzle and his mystery guide, and I step forward. Viznir is gripping the knife in his belt and I consider whether I should be worried. There will be a time lapse on the other side of the gate. I could be on my own with him once we’re through. Milo inserts the Admiral’s rock-cutting tool into its spot in the repository and the bracelet around my neck beeps. Viznir doesn’t look at me but simply walks through. I watch his back disappear into the ether and pull my pistol from its holster.
I feel a hand on my other arm and find Jonah beside me.
“Are you scared?” Jonah has his eyes fixed on the lights of the gate.
“A little. But we’ll be okay.”
“Will you wait for me?” He looks up and his blue eyes find mine.
“Absolutely.” I muss the boy’s hair and hold my fist out for him. He studies it for a moment and I suddenly wonder if the fist-bump has vanished from use by the time he’s from. He looks unsure but finally holds his fist up. I bump it and make my fist explode back with added sound effects. Jonah smiles. “I’ll see you on the other side.”
I face the gate and steel my nerves. Okay. Last level. Let’s see what you’ve got.
I stride forward and let the brilliance swallow me up.
<><><>
The sound reaches my brain first—shouting, and scraping, and the whir of electric motors. The visuals are chaotic. I’m in a hallway that’s been blasted open on both sides, and through the holes in the left wall, moonlight reveals a dark city skyline. Shapes move in the darkness beyond the wall to my right. The hallway flickers from damaged lights and a cable is sparking from an opening in the wall that’s been torn by something large. Viznir is nowhere in sight, but flashes of light accompany booms from a shotgun. I hear voices to my right and creep toward the damaged wall, peering through the hole into the gutted interior of the building. Figures are appearing and disappearing around the shell of a room, occasionally trading fire. I recognize Jettison and Genesis. They are dodging around the room, avoiding the attacks of a man dressed in all black. His trench coat flows around him like a wave, and for a moment I think he’s the man from my apartment, but when he turns toward me, I see a pallid complexion and a hint of gray to his hair. His irises glow with a pale light, and he has a weapon in his hand that resembles the one Kara carries. His shots are taking out sections of ceiling and support beams with every miss. Genesis has somehow reappeared with her back to him at the far side of the room and doesn’t see him raising his gun behind her.
“LOOK OUT!” The cry is out of my mouth before I can think and Genesis blinks away without even turning. The man in black looks my direction and his lips curl into a scowl. He’s immediately blocked from view by the metal torso of a robotic figure that steps in front of the hole from my right. I’m only staring at the torso because the entire height of the machine is imperceptible from my position. What is visible is the right arm that’s carrying a six-barreled, belt-fed, Gatling gun. The barrels swing toward me with the now recognizable whir of an electric motor, and I hit the floor an instant before they unleash their bullets. The deafening pops and bursts of the gun accompany the hail of lead that tears a horizontal line through the wall. The gun whirs to a stop and I scramble away, flailing backward and landing on my pack with a thud. The wall bursts apart even further as the machine crashes its way through and steps into the hallway.
The time gate has been rigged to the perimeter of the hallway, and the section of the wall I’m now leaning against is the only part of the corridor that is undamaged. Considering the wreckage around it, it seems miraculous—until the reality of the situation dawns on me. It was intentional. They were waiting for us. I gape at the figure that has stepped into the hall, trying to recover from my shock. It’s not simply a machine. The mechanized body rises at least eight feet from the ground but culminates in a head that is distinctly human. The man’s fac
e is visible through a transparent helmet faceplate, and while his glaring eyes and hard line of a mouth are anything but friendly, his expression of hate is clearly of my species. The mechanical body is porous at parts where a human body shouldn’t be, so I rule out him being a man in a metal suit. I don’t have a chance to contemplate him further because he aims his gun arm at me. I instinctually grab for my chronometer and only have time to press the pin before the bullets scream from the gun.
The two-second jump I had my chronometer set on is enough to skip his first burst of gunfire, but when I reappear, I’m right back where I started. Luckily, I’m fast with my dials and. before he can squeeze off another burst, I’ve flipped my slider to back and set myself another jump. This time I go back ten minutes. It’s careless and dangerous, but luck is on my side. I reappear in the hallway without managing to fuse myself into anyone or anything that was there then. Thank God.
The cyborg is gone and the hallway is in somewhat better shape. When I try to get to my feet, I find my backpack is stuck to the floor. I shrug out of it and look to see what happened. The front pocket has been fused into the concrete and laminate flooring. I must have landed in a divot or bit of damage from the fight and jumped back to a time before the damage to the floor happened. I yank on the pack and it rips along the bottom seam, leaving a scrap of fabric protruding from the floor and ruining the bag in the process.
I don’t have time to mourn the loss of the pack. My heart is too busy hammering away in my chest and it doesn’t help when I think how that bit of pack, now made a permanent part of the floor, could easily have been my ass. I grab the smaller shoulder bag out of the pack and stuff it with what I can, then toss the pack into a corner of the hallway.
In Times Like These: eBook Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 89
