“B-but,” Mrs. Hudson stammered, grasping for some argument. “But we don’t know where Quine is.”
“Yes, we do,” said Matt. “He’s right where you left him when he gave you my compass.”
Matt watched understanding seep into his mother’s eyes. She paled a little, but he also saw resolve in her expression. It was as if she’d known this day would come ever since that day she’d received the compass. That everything would come full circle eventually. Matt, too, felt as though his whole existence somehow revolved around this moment, and Quine, and the Aeternum. This was his destiny. He’d never been so certain of anything in his entire life.
23
The Sacrifice
1772
Asilah, Morocco
They arrived about a half mile from the shore. Blossom had again taken on the form of a large boat, stretching and widening, with a small mast and sail spiking up from the middle.
Matt thought Asilah looked like something out of a legend, a fairy tale. White buildings nestled on the edge of the sea. When they reached the shore, Mr. Hudson and Chuck jumped out of Blossom and pulled the boat onto the sand.
Matt hopped down, scanning the beach.
It was empty. He saw no one. Perhaps Quine was in the city.
And then he appeared. Formed out of thin air, not just his hands, but his entire body. He was about fifty feet down the beach, just standing there, gazing out at the ocean. His mom drew in a sharp breath. Matt felt a gentle tug in his chest, a tingling in his fingers. He started to walk toward Quine until his mom grabbed his hand.
“Mateo, no,” she said.
Matt turned and looked his mother in the eyes. He saw the fear there, and the love. “It’s okay, Mom. He’s on our side.”
“How can you be sure?” she asked.
Matt thought for a moment. “I can just feel it.” He knew it wasn’t a satisfying answer, but it was the best he could do. He really could feel it in an almost physical way. “It’s going to be okay,” he said.
His mom squeezed his hand, and for a moment Matt thought she wouldn’t let him go, or that she would insist on coming with him, but then she nodded and dropped his hand. She seemed to understand that whatever was about to happen, it was supposed to be just Quine and him. “Be careful. Please,” she said.
Matt nodded, and then he left his family behind and walked toward the man on the beach. “Mr. Quine?” Matt called when he was about ten feet away.
Quine turned around, muttering something under his breath.
Quine was blurry around the edges, and even though Matt couldn’t see his face clearly, there was something familiar about him, as though he knew him from sometime in his past, or maybe his future, like he was foremembering him. Who was this mysterious man?
Matt slowed. All the confidence he’d felt a moment ago had suddenly vanished. The tug he’d felt before suddenly seemed to change, now pulling in the opposite direction.
“Hello, Mateo,” said Quine in that familiar yet indecipherable voice that somehow echoed inside his head and reverberated in his chest. Matt focused on Quine’s blurry face. It flickered into clarity for just a moment, revealing dark, intelligent eyes that looked familiar and foreign all at once.
Matt thought it was best to get right to the point. “I’ve come for the Aeternum,” he said. “I need it.”
“Do you?” said Quine, the blurry line of his eyebrow arching.
“Everything that’s happened, it’s my fault. I need to make things right again.”
“Ah,” said Quine. “Yes, to make things right . . . but right for whom, exactly?”
“My family,” said Matt. “And maybe other people too.” He was starting to feel unsure about this. After he fixed all that had gone wrong with his family, then what? Would he go fix other things? Eliminate wars and injustice, eradicate hunger and poverty, save the whole world throughout time? That would be a good thing, wouldn’t it?
The earth began to shake, sudden and violent. Matt stumbled back. What was happening? Had they caused a glitch somehow?
The sea churned and parted. A ship rose from the water, a black flag on the mainmast whipping in the wind. The Vermillion. It surged toward them, heading straight for the Hudsons.
“Watch out!” Matt shouted. He raced toward his family, who were now all running toward him as the Vermillion careened onto the beach. Sand and water rained down on them. They all fell as the ship bulldozed Blossom, crushing the bus-boat like an aluminum can beneath a foot.
“Oh no!” Chuck put his hands to his head. “Blossom!”
As soon as the ship stopped, a rope was slung over the side of the Vermillion and Captain Vincent appeared. He scaled down the rope and jumped to the beach. Brocco came after him, followed by Wiley, and then Albert, who struggled to lower himself and finally fell the last ten feet, rolling awkwardly in the sand.
“Mateo!” called Mrs. Hudson. She scrambled to her feet, but Tui was faster.
“I have him, Captain!” shouted Tui. “Stay with the others!” Tui grabbed Matt and pulled him against her so he was facing outward in an almost hostage-style hold.
Captain Vincent walked toward the Hudsons, swaggering with his sword in hand, eyes blazing. Mr. and Mrs. Hudson stood together, creating a barricade between Vincent and their children. Chuck had hold of Corey. Annie stood in front of Ruby, rifle aimed right at Vincent, but she didn’t shoot and Captain Vincent showed no fear of her. He didn’t even acknowledge their existence. He strode right past them and went directly to Quine. He stopped a few feet before the blurred man. Tui pulled Matt close to her. He felt her grip tighten on his shoulders.
Vincent bowed to Quine.
“I have done everything you asked me to do,” he said, “and humbly ask that you grant me the Aeternum, as you promised.”
Matt was confused. Vincent had been in touch with Quine? He’d been taking orders from him? Quine was on his side?
“You’ve done very well,” said Quine. “But I still need Mateo.”
Vincent looked in Matt’s direction. He flicked his head, and before Matt could even comprehend what was going on, Tui bent down and flung Matt over her shoulder. He bounced as she ran.
“No!” Mrs. Hudson shrieked. “Tui, what are you doing?”
Matt was dumped before a pair of red Converse. Vince grabbed him. Matt struggled to free himself, but Vincent held him so tight he could barely move.
Matt saw his mother rush toward him, drawing her father’s dagger, but Vincent drew his own dagger and held it at Matt’s throat, while Tui drew Vincent’s sword and pointed it at Mrs. Hudson. She froze in her tracks. Annie lifted her rifle, aimed for Vincent, but Wiley and Brocco came up behind her, Brocco with a gun in each hand. He pointed them both at Annie’s head.
“Drop the gun, Li’l Sure Shot, before I return the favor you paid me the other day.” He lowered one of his guns, aiming at her backside. Annie glared, her eyes murderous, but she had no choice. She couldn’t possibly move fast enough to disarm Brocco before he shot her, and if she shot Vincent, Brocco would definitely shoot her. She lowered her rifle, dropped it in the sand.
“Tui,” said Mrs. Hudson. “Why . . . ?”
“Why?” Tui snarled. Her dark eyes flashed with violence. “You leave us behind. No explanations. Nothing. And you ask why I am not on your side?”
“But, Tui, I’m your friend.” Mrs. Hudson was wild, confused.
Tui spat on the ground. “We are not friends,” she growled. “You are not my captain! The day you left us you became nothing more than a weak coward, and I saw that Vincent was always meant to have the compass and the Aeternum. You left us both. Together we planned our revenge. We both sacrificed. I went to that terrible place and waited for you. Captain Vincent said you would find me there.”
Matt swallowed, feeling the blade against his throat. Tui had been a spy for Captain Vincent all along. All this time he thought she’d been trying to help them, protect them. . . . He thought back, remembering how adamant Tui had
been when it came to finding Captain Vincent. He thought she’d wanted revenge upon him, to stop him, but really she only wanted to help bring the Hudsons to Vincent. Bring him, Mateo, to Quine. To sacrifice him so he could have the Aeternum.
“Please, Vince,” Mrs. Hudson begged. “Don’t do this. He’s my son.”
“He’s no more your son than I am your husband,” said Vincent. “You have always known this would be the boy’s fate, whether it came to your benefit or mine. Now,” said Vincent, turning to Quine. “What do you need me to do with the boy in order to get the Aeternum? Spill his blood?”
Matt sucked in a breath as he felt the knife dig into his neck. He was sure it was drawing blood already.
“Oh no,” said Quine. “Nothing so gruesome. I only need to touch his hand.”
“His hand?” said Vincent in a surprised tone. He clearly was not expecting this. Matt wasn’t either. What was so significant about his hand?
“Don’t worry,” said Quine. “I promise the effect will be magnificent. Explosive and mind-boggling. We are a powerful combination, Mateo and I. The joining of our hands will activate the Aeternum, infuse it with immeasurable power, all for your taking. But we cannot touch each other of our own accord. You must force our hands together.” Quine removed the glove from his right hand. The blurriness sharpened and pulled into focus, just for a moment, but enough for Matt to see the rootlike tattoo spread over his hand, branching up his wrist and arm until it disappeared into his shirt.
Matt’s breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t a tattoo. They were scars. Burn scars. Identical to Matt’s.
Words and phrases clicked into place inside his head.
A sacrifice must be made
To win this game.
Bring Mateo to me
We are one and the same.
Matt was Quine. Quine was him. They were the same person.
“Join your hands,” said Vincent. “Simple enough.” He grabbed Matt by his scarred wrist, and Quine by his, pulling them together. Matt could feel a buzz in his fingertips, a kind of electrical current running between him and Quine.
“Remember my warning, Vincent,” said Quine. “Once you go down this path, there is no turning back. You will be forever changed, and forever is a long, long time. But no time at all, really.”
“I believe that is exactly the point,” said Vincent, and he forced Matt’s and Quine’s hands together.
A jolt ran through Matt. Heat rushed down his arm, through his hand and into Quine’s. Matt also felt searing heat coming from Quine, rushing through his hand and back up his arm, into his shoulder and through his entire body. Quine was glowing. He almost looked like he was on fire. Was Matt on fire, too? The heat grew, the energy intensified, and just when Matt thought it was too much, that he would combust, he did. Quine did, too. They both exploded, flew into a billion pieces.
Matt still had some awareness, some sense of his physical form, even though he could not control it. He was moving very fast, at light speed. Faster. Where, he did not know. But he could feel Quine’s presence as well, moving around and through him, their cells mingling, intertwining, combining in some way.
Matt felt himself pulling back together, his cells communicating with each other, moving back into the shape of him. He felt his heart first, and then blood pumping in veins, lungs expanding with air, bones, muscle, and sinew. When he was fully assembled again, when every cell was back in its proper order, Matt was back on the beach with his scarred, burning hand outstretched and a small black stone resting in the center of his palm. The stone was very familiar to Matt. It looked exactly like the stone from his bracelet, the one that was now in Matt’s compass, except this one felt alive. It pulsed with warmth and energy in Matt’s hand. The symbol etched in the stone was clearly visible now. The markings glowed like the blue base of a flame. It was the Chinese character for eternity. It was the symbol for the Aeternum.
Matt gaped at the warm, glowing stone, unable to speak or move, until Captain Vincent plucked the stone from his hand. Captain Vincent pressed the Aeternum into the center of his Obsidian Compass, as Matt had done before, only this time, with the activated Aeternum, it had a different effect.
The Aeternum clicked into place. Nothing happened for a moment, and then the Obsidian Compass also began to pulse with a bluish glow. It unlocked and unfolded itself. Circles within circles separated from the compass and rotated, transforming it into a sphere. Captain Vincent rose off the ground, feet hovering over the sand. A bluish glow emanated from him. Matt could feel heat pulsing off his skin. Captain Vincent was being altered somehow. The glowing orb in his hand was making him immortal, imbuing him with unimaginable power. The light within the compass grew and grew, brighter and brighter, until it burst with blinding white light that radiated outward in every direction. Matt was certain the entire world was being incinerated, and then the light shot back into the compass in a flash of a second.
All was still. Silent.
Matt looked around. The world had paused. The wind did not blow. The sea did not rush. The waves were frozen, the white crests hovering in a curl. His family, the crew, even Captain Vincent looked like wax figures, very lifelike but frozen in time. Mateo seemed to be the only one awake and able to move. He went to his mother and reached out to touch her hand.
“Do not touch,” said a voice. It was Quine’s voice. Matt turned all around but did not see him. Then the air began to shimmer. Matt marveled as he witnessed billions of tiny particles form and coalesce, bind and take shape, until Quine once again stood before him, this time clear and fully visible.
“They are suspended in the universe,” said Quine, gesturing to his family, Jia, and the crew. “Time has been paused, if you will, and the human existence is intertwined with time. Once time reasserts itself in the world they will be just as they were. Except Vincent. He will be very different.”
“What about us?” Matt asked. “Why aren’t we suspended?”
“We have always been different. We have different rules.”
Matt looked down at his scarred hand, then looked at Quine’s. “We are the same person,” he said. “You and me, I mean. Aren’t we?”
“We were born the same person, yes,” said Quine, “but I do not think it is completely accurate to say we are the same person now.”
“What do you mean? Did you somehow alter your DNA or something?”
“No,” said Quine. “In that regard we are still the same. But a person can’t be reduced to just their genetic coding. We are always changing. You are not the same person now as when you were born. I am not the same person now as when I was your age. We have grown and changed both physically and mentally. Even the cells that make up our physical bodies are different. But I was once you, and one day you will be me.”
Matt studied Quine. Himself. His older self by fifty years, perhaps more. He recognized the eyes, the shape of his features, though his hair was streaked with silver, his face lined and worn by time and the gravity of the world, the burdens of life. Quine had seen things, done things that Matt had not. They were the same and yet separate, and he felt far from comforted with the knowledge. It terrified him. He didn’t know who this person was standing before him, even though he knew it was himself. He did not know what he wanted, or what he was working toward, or whose side he was on.
“Something troubling you, Mateo?” said Quine.
Matt hesitated, not certain how to phrase the next question. “Am I good?” he asked. “I mean, are we good?”
Quine lifted an eyebrow, his lips parting into a somewhat sad smile. And then he recited a poem.
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
Matt let the words wash over him. He wasn’t sure he fully understood them, but he liked the way they made him feel. He guessed that was the point of poetry, in the end. To make you feel.
“Did you write th
at?” Matt asked. “I mean, we?”
Quine shook his head. “Walt Whitman. A true poet.”
“It’s nice,” said Matt, “but I’m not sure it answers my question.”
“Doesn’t it? Do you wish to be good?”
“Of course,” said Matt.
“And how would you define good?” Quine asked.
“Doing the right thing?”
“What is the right thing? Do you always do it?”
“I . . .” Matt began, and then trailed off. He thought he did, but he suddenly wasn’t so sure.
“Me neither,” said Quine. “It’s something I have been considering my entire life. Many a human has done great wrong in the name of doing what they believed was right. Take Captain Vincent,” he gestured to the inanimate Captain Vincent. His arm was outstretched. The spherical compass in his hand glowed blue at the center. “He believes he is right,” said Quine. “He is the hero in his own story, but you believe he is a villain.”
“Isn’t he?” said Matt.
“Perhaps,” said Quine. “I don’t particularly care for him, but then who am I to judge? My opinion is rather biased. He did hold us at knifepoint, after all, though I guess it’s kind of cheating to know that we survive.”
“What will happen now that he has the Aeternum?” said Matt.
“A great many things,” said Quine. “Prepare yourself. The future will not be easy for you. More sacrifices will need to be made.”
Matt swallowed. “Can’t you tell me all the things that will happen? Can’t you just tell me what I have to do?”
“What’s the use of knowing everything?” said Quine. “Sounds boring to me, and if I know anything about you, which I think I do, you hate to be bored. Take care, Mateo.” Quine turned as though he meant to leave.
“Wait! Please, I just have one more question.”
“Yes?”
“Why did you change our name?”
Quine grinned mischievously. “Another thing I’ll let you figure out for yourself. Now I must go. Time is about to reassert itself, and things will move very quickly. It’s best if I’m out of the way.” He gave Matt a final wink before he disintegrated into a billion pieces. “Oh and one more thing,” said Quine, his disembodied voice now hovering in the air. “Hold on to Jia.” And then he was gone, his voice carried away on the wind.
Time Castaways #2 Page 29
