by R E McLean
“It’s not that. It’s Lacey.”
Monique leaned over the desk. “You have her, I assume.”
Alex shook her head. “Yes. And no. We found her, but we were thrown back here without her.”
“Hot damn.” Monique picked up her phone again.
“We need to go straight back,” said Alex.
Monique held the receiver in midair. “Straight back?”
“Yes. I know where she is. But if we leave it too long…”
Monique replaced the handset. “Look, I admire your tenacity. Really I do. But you’re not a cop, and you look like you’ve been through hell. I can’t risk sending you back there. I need you to debrief on what you saw and where you left the girl, and then I’ll send another officer over.”
“Who?” Alex looked at Mike. “I thought it was just us.”
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
“But I do. I know where Lacey is. She’s scared, she’s sick, and she doesn’t know who to trust. She knows me, she’ll come with me.”
“I’m sorry, Alex. It’s too big of a risk. Tell me where she is. Has he hurt her?”
“No. He wanted to make friends with her. But he’s angry. With us. He might take it out on her.”
“Where is she?”
“Near Fisherman’s Wharf, or the equivalent. She was running after us when...” Alex paused. “She might have tried to follow us.”
Monique grabbed her phone. “On it.” She barked an order for a team to get down to their own version of Fisherman’s Wharf.
“Even if she isn’t there now, he might open another portal. We might be able to pull her back.”
Alex stood her ground. “I have to go back for her.”
“Nope.”
“Like you said, I’m not a cop. So I don’t take orders.”
Monique stood up. “You better watch what you’re saying.”
Alex pushed her shoulders back, wishing Monique wasn’t six inches taller than her. “I know what I’m saying. And I know you could kick me off the team. But Lacey is more important.”
Monique watched her a moment. Alex shifted her weight, uneasy.
“Very well, then. But I’m not sending Mike back. He’s been out there too long.”
Alex looked at Mike. He shrugged. “Sorry.”
She turned back to Monique. “You’re sending me alone?” Suddenly her bravado left her.
“Uh-uh. You’ll have company.”
“Who?”
“Go down to the parking lot, and you’ll find out.”
32
Sweater
Alex and Mike traveled down in silence, both staring up and ahead at the space above the elevator doors.
When the doors opened, Alex gestured for Mike to go first. He sniffed and stepped out. He pushed open the double doors to the parking lot and strode ahead. The van was in a corner as ever, hiding its secrets.
“Do you know who they’re going to send me in with?” Alex asked.
He turned back, his face a sallow gray in the pale morning light. “It can’t be Nemesis or Madge, they’ve got doppelgängers.”
“So..?”
“Work it out, Alex. I thought you’d be pleased.”
Alex felt her skin tighten. She wasn’t ready to jump with Sarita.
Mike was on the steps leading up to the van, his hand raised to knock.
“When was it she contacted you at Point Zero?”
“Not long before you showed up. I had no idea where I was. She gave it a name. She sounded scared.”
“How did she find you?”
A shrug. “Beats me. Why don’t you ask her yourself.”
The door swung open. Madge and Nemesis were just inside, waiting for them. Both were beaming.
“Mike my dear,” breathed Madge. “Such a relief to have you back in one piece.”
She stepped forwards and he bent to hug her. Nemesis clapped him on the back.
“Well done, old boy. Well done.”
Alex screwed up her nose. It was she who’d jumped over there alone, she who’d found Mike against instructions. She who’d built Lacey’s trust and got her away from Pip.
But she had to allow them their little celebration. She’d been pleased to see Mike too.
She followed him inside, feeling the air cool as the door swung closed. Madge grabbed her hand.
“Well done, my dear. I know you were told not to go looking for him but I’m glad you did.”
“Thanks. I like your sweater.”
Madge was wearing a gray and purple Arran sweater that reminded Alex of childhood holidays in the Scottish islands. It looked like it had been knitted by hand.
Madge blushed and tugged at it. “Oh, this thing. Thank you, dear. Thank you.”
She squeezed Alex’s hand then let go to make her way to the central console. Nemesis was guiding Mike toward the back of the van.
“What happens now?” Alex called.
“Mike needs a few days in decontamination,” replied Nemesis. “He’s been exposed to a lot of quantum energy.”
“So have you,” Madge said to Alex. “But I hear you’re being stubborn.”
“Not stubborn. Just determined.”
“Potato, pot-ah-to.”
“I can’t leave Lacey on her own. I went over there to get her back, and I failed.”
“You found Mike though.”
Alex put a hand on Madge’s woolly shoulder. “I wasn’t supposed to find Mike. You all told me not to. And how is it that Sarita made contact with him while he was over there, and no one told me?”
“My ears are burning.”
Alex span to see Sarita approaching. She wore a bright red leather jacket with purple stripes and a pair of lime green jeans. Somehow she managed to make it look good.
Alex stepped forward. “How did you make contact with him?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t give you all the details. Not just yet.”
Mike yelped.
“Everything alright?” Nemesis asked him.
“Fine. Just eager to get this over and done with.”
Nemesis nodded and guided him into the darkness at the rear of the van.
“Now dears, come along,” trilled Madge. She hurried to the central console and began sweeping her fingers across the surface. Lights appeared on the wall in front of her, illuminating her wrinkled face.
Sarita threw a smile at Alex, who ignored it. They stepped onto the platform in front of Madge and waited for it to descend.
Once down, Alex slipped into the Spinner.
“How did it get back here?” she asked.
Sarita’s face was illuminated by the white light that emanated from all the Spinner’s surfaces. “Homing mechanism. It knew you were gone from Point Zero.”
“I thought it was going to wait for me.”
Sarita shrugged. “It’s cleverer than you think.”
“It’s a machine.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
Alex frowned at Sarita then turned to face the wall. She spread her feet, waiting for the Spinner to start moving.
33
Leotard
The Spinner stopped moving. Alex put a hand to her chest and took a deep breath. She wished she’d taken a moment to clean herself up. She was still covered in rock slime and the remains of the cotton candy.
Sarita was curled on the floor, groaning. Alex held out a hand.
“Need help?”
Sarita’s eyes were bloodshot, her skin pale. Her lips were pressed together and her movements were small and careful.
“No,” she muttered. Alex remembered the last time they’d jumped together, the way she’d helped Sarita and then kissed her in relief at solving her first case and being back home. The way Sarita had pulled away and told her not to do it again.
The door swished open. The Prof stepped in.
“Oh, hello. This is… this is a surprise.”
He gave Sarita the kind of look a parent gives an unusually scary pres
chooler. “I gather you’re on a deadline.”
“Yes,” replied Alex. “Lacey’s still in Point Zero. We have to get her.”
The Prof cast a wary look in Sarita’s direction, keeping his distance. “Of course, of course. Let’s get you ready.”
Madonna was waiting for them on the roof of the MIU. She wore a black leotard adorned with sequins under a satin coat that skimmed the ground, and a Pearl that shimmered in the light.
“Alex, darling. I’m so sorry.” She grabbed Alex’s t-shirt and ripped a piece out of it.
“Ouch. What’s that for?”
“You’ll see.” She dropped the piece of fabric into a container and placed it in a well in the desk in front of her. It slid down and disappeared. “And I have a message for you.”
“From Lacey?’
“Oh no. It’s from Madge.”
“But I was just with her.”
Madonna laughed. “Silly woman, she’s going to forget her head one of these days.”
“So what’s the message?”
“You need to call your father.”
“I need to what?”
“Call your dad.”
“How?”
“Sorry?”
“I’m in a parallel universe. How am I supposed to call my dad?”
“You can’t,” interrupted the Prof. “It’ll just have to wait until you get back.”
Irritation rose in Alex’s chest. Her dad was probably alone in her apartment, wondering where she was and why her cat kept dying and coming back to life.
Then her stomach hollowed out. Had something happened to Auntie Morag? She was the closest thing Alex had to a mom.
“Surely there’s a way I can call him.”
“You’d think there would be, wouldn’t you?” replied the Prof. He gave Madonna a sidelong glance. “But you can only communicate direct with the MIU from here. Or with a bitbox.”
“Well that’s the answer then. Someone in San Francisco can take a bitbox to him.”
“Can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
Madonna shrugged. “Too advanced. I’ve tried to give them the instructions to make their own but they don’t have the right elements.”
“The right elements?”
“Chemical elements. The Argon-36 you need for a quantum communicator is found on Jupiter.”
“Of course it is. Don’t tell me. You sent a probe to Jupiter and extracted this stuff, but we haven’t managed that yet.”
Madge’s face darkened. “Not me. They. The government. Costs me a fortune to buy the stuff off of them. Even with everything I’ve done for then. It’s damn—”
The Prof put a hand on her arm. “Let’s get back to business, shall we? Alex, you’ll have to wait till you get home. Call your dad then. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
Alex opened her mouth but had no response. She’d talked everyone into letting her come straight back here, and she couldn’t back down now for a phone call.
“What’s going on?”
The color had returned to Sarita’s face. Her lips seemed to have swelled and her cheeks darkened. Alex looked at her feet, her palms sweaty.
“Ah, glad to have you back in the land of the living,” said the Prof, his gaze flitting nervously across Sarita’s face. “Let’s get you to Point Zero all haste, eh?”
“First we’ll need to find you new outfits,” said Madonna. Her voice was low and she was looking at Sarita with her head slightly bowed.
“What’s wrong with these?” Sarita asked. Alex clamped her mouth shut.
“Erm, I’m afraid Point Zero has different requirements. We need to find you something that will provide protection,” said Madonna. “I’ve been working on it while Alex was over there and the residues I was able to gather from her clothes have been very helpful.”
The Prof clapped his hands together. “Go with Madge and she’ll get you kitted out.”
Sarita was looking down at her garish clothes, a wistful expression on her face. Alex wondered if she’s been lying about having a doppelgänger over here. She didn’t seem too worried about jumping.
They descended to the ground floor and made their way along a corridor. It was dusk and the offices were quiet. Occasional earpiece-clad personnel weaved around them, deep in the Hive, Silicon City’s hi-tech version of augmented reality. Madonna’s Pearl sparkled and shifted as she moved.
They arrived at a door which swished obligingly open for them. Beyond it was a small room, taller than it was wide, with rows of clothes on hangers.
The skinsuits were like the one she’d worn earlier, made of a sleek gray fabric that absorbed the light. On the shoulder of each was a bright pink pig.
“These are hideous,” said Sarita.
“What’s with the pigs?” asked Alex.
“The suits don’t work so well without them,” Madonna replied. “I only discovered it this morning. Now, find one in your size and put it on.”
“You sent me over there in a suit that didn’t work?”
“That’s not what I said. Just put one on.”
Alex gave Madonna a look that slid off her like the woman was made of Teflon. She grabbed a suit, eyeing the pig. Sarita did the same.
Alex glanced at Sarita then shuffled behind one of the racks of suits and turned to the wall.
Behind her, Madonna and Sarita were silent. She pictured Madonna on the walk here, her eye avoiding Sarita’s.
Something was wrong, and no one was telling her what it was.
34
Pigeon
Lacey peered from her hiding place in a burned-out building, its walls singed and crumbling. The one remaining window was sooty and dim. Still clear enough for her to spot movement, but not so clear she would be seen.
Her stomach groaned at her, a reminder that she hadn’t eaten since Pip had shared a roasted pigeon with her two nights ago. She’d recoiled at the thought but once the bird started to cook, the smell had been too much for her and she’d tentatively taken a bite. She’d been surprised at how tasty it was, even if it did have very little flesh between the brittle bones.
She’d watched as Alex and her friend disappeared into that hole Pip had made in his anger, another rift like the one he’d brought her through. She’d run after them, hoping to dive through herself. But Pip had spotted her. He’d flicked his wrist and sealed it up, bringing her crashing to the ground.
She’d hauled herself up to see anger on his face. Above his head, the storm was deepening. Darkening.
So she‘d run.
Now she was two, maybe three miles south of him, having run until it had become fully dark and then hidden out in this abandoned store. A sign hung limply from above where the door must once have been. Six Twelve it was called. It meant nothing to her.
The storm was growing still, raging above her head.
She thought of the way he’d stared over the water on her first day here, muttering under his breath. He’d held himself stiffly, like an animal listening for a predator. Whatever was over there scared him.
He wouldn’t follow her there.
To her south was a bridge. She couldn’t be sure if it was the same bridge that crossed the Bay in her world, but she did know that it stretched to the other side. And it was miraculously intact.
She clambered from her hiding place. The air was quiet, not even the sound of birds greeting the dawn. Across the water, the air stirred with a thousand tiny movements she couldn’t identify.
Maybe he was right to be scared. Or maybe he was just superstitious.
Her legs ached with sleeping half standing up and she had a bruise on her arm where she’d fallen in her attempt to follow Alex through the rift. It was yellowing. She prodded it. The skin was tight and sore, but it wasn’t broken.
She headed south, keeping to the shadows and trying to ignore the storm above her head. In daylight it was taking on a dull yellowy color and looked like a giant lump of swirling mustard. Sparks flashed deep within, but it was e
erily quiet.
She reached the bridge and climbed a set of steps. At the top was a wide freeway, nine lanes leading in and out of the city. Rusting and dilapidated cars littered the roadway. Some had hit each other, their hoods or sides caved in. Others sat with their doors hanging open. One lurched precariously over the edge. There was no sign of people, alive or dead. It seemed her way was clear.
35
Catsuit
Point Zero was much as Alex remembered it. The storm centered on Fisherman’s Wharf was changing shape and color. It was cigar-shaped now, stretching along the water’s edge but not covering the city. Its mustard yellow color made Alex think of hot dogs. God, she was hungry.
She watched Sarita scan the street outside the Hall of Justice with her bitbox. The sleek skinsuit picked out every one of Sarita’s curves and made her look two inches taller. Alex could only imagine how she looked in her own; short pale body and that pink pig set off by her tangled ginger curls matted with cotton candy.
Sarita picked her way along the street, bending to check anything suspicious.
“I don’t think this is going to help,” called Alex. “She’s not here.”
Sarita stood up. The low sun glinted off her suit and Alex averted her eyes.
“Trust me. I’m checking for changes to the makeup of the city.”
“You won’t find anything useful. Any changes are as odd as a frog in a parrot show.”
“How so?”
Sarita approached her, sliding the bitbox into a pocket in her suit. It seemed to disappear and become one with her shape.
“There’s something odd about this world’s quantum field. Everything seems completely normal, and then all of a sudden your partner turns into a twenty-foot rabbit. Not to mention dying and coming back to life.”
“Where did that happen?”
Alex pointed north. “Up there. Mike was shot. I left him in a shed, closed the door, then he walked right out again.”
“Seriously? Why didn’t you mention this?”
