by Fae York
The form gave a description of the event as Emelia had described it: a break-in gone wrong. Beneath were details from the inspection of her apartment. Anything unusual was documented, the information to be used in an ongoing investigation. Emelia’s eyes skimmed the rest of the page, searching for what she feared most. Emelia averted her eyes from the pictures.
BODY FOUND. SEX: Female. AGE: 60-70. CAUSE OF DEATH: Blunt-force trauma to the head. SUBJECT IDENTIFIED: Yes. NAME: Meredith Jane Porter.
Emelia bit her lip and put the paper down. From the moment she had heard the screams on the voicemail, Emelia had known that Meredith Jane was gone. However, seeing it on paper somehow made it more real. Emelia buried her face in her hands and tried to stop the tears from coming; she had cried enough already.
Emelia walked to her bedroom and grabbed her journal from the bedside table. The last dated entry was three months ago, back when she only really talked to her grandfather and her boss. Writing had always helped her organize her thoughts and vent when there wasn’t anyone else to talk to. Hopefully getting some of her feelings down on paper today would help her to regain a sense of control.
Her pen glided across page after page. Emelia started chronologically at Plume, where she met Aleph, and ended where she was now, a thousand thoughts in her brain. By the time Emelia had finished documenting the story, her hand ached. Under the final sentence, she made a bullet point list and labeled it ‘time travel’,
How: Some sort of machine, marks travelers with Doe tattoos.
Backward, not forward. Except me.
Vane: Works for the government, saved me, Aleph says he’s bad news.
Aleph: Works with future self, wants to take me to the future—Husband?
Minutemen: Terrorist group/faction of the future. Bad news.
Emelia read through what she had written and tried not to laugh. It was absurd, all of it, but that didn’t make it any less real. She had watched three times now as time traveling men had popped in and out of existence right before her eyes. She had been attacked by a Minuteman and seen the “improbabilities” of Time at work. The evidence of time travel was all around her, there was no denying it.
A figure appeared at the foot of her bed. Before she could scream, he put a hand over her mouth. Emelia panicked for a moment, but her eyes softened when she saw his familiar smile.
“What the hell, Aleph?” she shouted as soon as her mouth was free.
“Sorry. Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender—a move that was becoming too common for him in their relationship.
“You can’t just pop in like that. I was attacked last night. To say that your timing is bad is the greatest understatement of the century.”
“Your century and mine,” he said, chuckling to himself.
She shot him a glare and his smile quickly faded.
“No, in all sincerity, I am sorry. But, in my defense, there isn’t exactly a way for me to let you know in advance that I am coming.”
“How about a phone call? A text message?” she offered.
“Across space and time?” His smile returned. “I don’t think it works that way sweetheart.”
She pushed his shoulder softly and he stumbled backward, his grin widening. “Cute PJs by the way.”
Emelia glanced down at her polka-dot pajamas and cringed. She blushed from her hairline, down her neck, and across her chest. Before Emelia could think of what to say in her defense, he came at sat beside her on the bed and kissed her on the cheek.
“I believe you,” she told him, “about everything.”
“So, you’ll come with me then?” he asked, eyes hopeful.
“Yes. I mean, I think so . . . But not yet.” She laced his fingers through her own. “I want to say goodbye to my grandfather, maybe visit my parents’ gravesite, stuff like that. Is that okay?”
“Yes, of course. Actually, I was thinking that now may not be the best time for you to come with me anyways. Things are a little . . . complicated right now. When I returned to 2131 after the storm, I spoke with you. Artemis, that is. And she said that we might want to wait it out for a week or two until things settle down.”
“So what do I do then? Go back to work?” she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“No. In fact, I was thinking that it would be good for you to get away from here, somewhere out of D.C.”
“Like, take a vacation?”
“If you want to call it that. The Minutemen know where you live and also where you work. Vane has already connected you to Artemis, and he probably isn’t too thrilled that you abandoned his safe house. I’m amazed he hasn’t come to find you already. I’m just saying that, for your safety, you should consider going somewhere else until we can leave together for my time.”
“Won’t they just track me? I mean if I purchase anything with a card or take my phone they’ll know where I am.”
“I know, and that is why,” he said, standing and walking over to her closet, “I’m giving you this.” His hand tapped the far edge of the mirror frame and it swung backward against her clothes, revealing a small red duffle bag.
“What the . . .”
“We call these ‘time capsules’ and we have them all over time and space,” he explained. “It isn’t possible for us to travel with things from the future. As we leap backward, Time unravels clothes, unmakes technology, and destroys whatever it is that we are carrying. Rather than trying to live with nothing in another time period, we forage for necessities from the past and store them in areas that we know we will be returning to.
“Pause. If you can’t take anything with you from the future, and if it unravels clothes, wouldn’t you technically have to time travel naked?” Emelia snorted.
“Thank heavens no.” He gestured to the black suit that he was wearing, “This suit is designed from ancient, natural materials—it’s the only material we’ve discovered that can make the trip and hold up under the pressure. It’s old enough that Time doesn’t recognize it as out of place.” He laughed heartily. “Although, I am sure that the first time travelers discovered that lesson the hard way.”
Emelia tried to imagine being attacked by a murderous and naked time traveler. The image made her laugh uncomfortably.
“So back to the duffle bag,” she said, raising a curious eyebrow. “You’ve been hiding things in my bedroom?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. My ‘apartment’ is just a vacated rental; at any time someone could move in and kick me out. I figured that it would be wiser to keep things at your place.”
He pulled out the duffle bag, opened it, and tossed her a wad of bills. Emelia guessed it to be about two thousand dollars in cash.
Aleph smiled at her and winked. “That should be enough to get you somewhere far away and keep you afloat for a week or two. If you run out of money, let me know and I’ll find a way to get you more. I would leave your phone at your apartment but call your boss and ask for time off. If you leave without explanation, people will come looking for you. That would be dangerous, both for you and for them.”
“Okay . . . I’ll start looking up flights then?”
“I would steer clear of your computer as well. The Minutemen are smart, and so is Vane. They’ll look through your search history, no doubt. It would probably be best to simply show up at the airport and pick a plane.”
“Just like that?” Emelia had a doubtful look on her face. “I just waltz into the airport, hand them a stack of cash, and board the next flight out?”
“Precisely.”
“You are insane.”
“Insanity and intelligence often go hand in hand darling—you would know.” He winked at her again and she rolled her eyes. “You married me for my brains, not just for my body.”
There it was again. The whole “future husband” detail.
“Right. Aleph, can we talk about that?” Emelia asked.
“Talk about what?”
“The whole ‘by the way I’m your husband’ thing.”
Aleph cocked his head.
“It’s just . . . a lot. I trust you, I really do, but I’m still a few steps behind in our relationship. To be honest, it freaks me out a little when you talk like that. Do you think that we could maybe leave that subject on the backburner for now? With everything else going on I don’t really want to think about it.”
“Yeah, of course.” Aleph shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry, it’s just hard to keep things straight, I guess. I’m flipping between you and Artemis constantly . . . and you’re the same person. You look nearly the same in my time.”
“That makes sense.” She tried to smile at him but he wasn’t making eye contact. “Are you hungry?” she asked, attempting to fill the silence.
“Starving.”
“I don’t have much, but I think there are chicken nuggets in the freezer.”
They moved to the kitchen where Emelia preheated the oven and got them each a glass of water. Aleph sat himself down on the couch and glanced down at his watch nervously.
“Should I expect a lightning bolt to come through the roof anytime soon?” she asked, sliding the pan of nuggets onto the rack.
“Nah,” he replied, patting the couch cushion beside him, but not too close. “Time tries to bring balance through improbabilities, but everything is still bound by scientific laws. For example, there wouldn’t be a flood in the desert, a man wouldn’t be trampled by a herd of cattle in the city, and it wouldn’t rain indoors. The improbabilities are always fairly logical causes of death. When we’re in buildings, Time does things like causing us to trip so we fall down stairs or drop hair dryers in bathtubs full of water, electrocuting us when we’re using the bathroom.”
“Oh,” Emelia said, nodding her head in understanding, “nice.”
Aleph opened his mouth to speak again but halted when a knock came at the front door. Emelia’s heart pounded. Aleph placed his hand on her arm and whispered, “don’t answer.”
“I’ll just see who it is,” she whispered back.
Emelia leaned against the door and looked through the peephole. Her stomach dropped. She stepped away from the door and tiptoed to where Aleph could see her. “It’s Vane,” she mouthed. He beckoned her back to the couch with his hand and pressed his face to her ear.
“He’s dangerous, Emelia, please don’t answer.”
“Can’t he just time travel himself through the door anyways? Go back to his own time and set the machine so that he appears inside like he did during the attack?”
“He won’t,” Aleph shook his head, “especially seeing as the police are involved now. Vane works for the government and they are very particular about keeping time travel a secret. The Minutemen are already making such a mess, confusing everyone here. The Doe cases that you have been working on, those are the men and women from their time who don’t care enough to stay in the dark. Vane, on the other hand, doesn’t have a choice. He has to follow protocol or they’ll take him off of the mission. He will be back though, that’s why we have to get you out of here.”
They waited until they could hear Vane’s footsteps descending down the stairs. Emelia moved to the window and watched him walk out into the street then shimmer out of sight. Seeing that was still going to take some getting used to.
“Why do you hate Vane, Aleph?” she asked.
“I don’t hate him, Emelia. I just don’t trust him. Vane is part of the governmental sector that originally developed time travel technology and he is here only because he wants your DNA. He knows that you are connected to Artemis and that Artemis is somehow the key to traveling forward in time. As long as Vane gets what he wants, he doesn’t really care what happens to you.”
“What is it about my DNA? And how does the government even know about it?”
“When you started using that machine you call The Wizard,” Emelia remembered the nickname that she had given the latest contraption at the FBI, “your DNA was documented in the system’s database, the same database that the future government is still using in 2131. However, your sequencing was interrupted and now the government only has a small portion of your genetic code. That is what Vane is after, those missing pieces that seem to point the way to Artemis.”
“Why does the government want to travel forward in time so badly?” she wondered aloud.
Aleph shrugged. “Curiosity? Maybe so they can see what things go wrong and fix them before it’s too late? To be honest, I don’t really know. But forward travel isn’t the only thing that your DNA is good for.”
The oven beeped and Emelia pulled the chicken nuggets off of the rack and piled them onto a large plate.
“Time is really hard on travelers,” Aleph continued, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but time travel ages it’s participants at an exponential rate.”
Emelia nodded eagerly. “That makes sense! I ran some tests on a few of the Does and the data came back inconclusive because it just seemed impossible. Young bodies, but somehow aged internally.”
“If we travel a lot the effects can become external as well.” He pointed at the few gray strands of hair near his temples.
“Are you sure that’s the time travel and not just stress? Or . . . natural causes?” She nudged him with her elbow.
“Are you calling me old? Because technically, you’re the one who is old enough to be my great-great grandmother.”
“Okay, okay. Fine.” Emelia smiled and pulled out the ketchup. “So, what does super aging have to do with my DNA?”
“Your double helix holds the integral key for more comprehensive and optimal time travel without the aging or Time trying to kill you.”
“How?”
“I have no clue,” he stated flatly, frowning. “Let’s just say you are the chosen one,” he concluded, his tone intentionally overdramatic.
Emelia rolled her eyes again, watching as Aleph stuffed his mouth full of chicken nuggets.
“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad. Wouldn’t that help everyone? Why don’t I just give Vane my blood or hair or something and get it over with?”
“Most things do not travel well through Time’s wormhole, remember? If traveling back in time ‘unmakes’ things, then traveling forward in time would disintegrate them,” he responded. “The only thing that might make the trip would be a piece of your bone.”
Emelia shuttered at the thought of Vane drilling into her leg and prying away splinters of her femur.
“Would he leave me alone then? If I gave him a piece of my bone?” she asked.
“Maybe, but that is the last thing you want to do,” he replied.
“Why?”
“Because then they would have your full genetic code, which means they would have Artemis’s full genetic code. Once they know your—I mean her—identity, it’s only a matter of time before the government connects the dots. Like I said, Artemis is a very powerful woman. It is important that her identity remain a secret. If they can’t go after her, they’ll go after you. Trust me, it’s better for everyone if you keep your DNA to yourself. Promise me?”
“Promise you what?”
“That you won’t give Vane your DNA.”
Emelia had never heard him so serious before. “Yes. I promise that as long as you are here to protect me, I won’t give Vane my DNA.”
“That’s my girl.” He stood and picked up both of their plates, carrying them over to the sink. Aleph was just about to turn on the faucet when he tipped over Emelia’s coffee maker, the frayed cord draping itself over into the sink basin. “And that,” Aleph said, stepping away from the water, “is my cue to leave.” He walked around the kitchen island and kissed her on the cheek.
“Okay,” said Emelia. So tomorrow morning, I’ll head to the airport and take the first available flight.”
“Perfect,” he said, pulling away.
“Aleph?”
“Yes?”
“How will you know where I am? You won’t have a way to contact me.”
“Just go somewhere that you’ve alway
s wanted to go. Be predictable, but only in the sense that Artemis will know where you went. I’ll take it from there.”
“Okay, deal.” Emelia stood close to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She leaned in and closed her eyes, fully expecting to feel his lips against her own. Instead, she lurched forward and found herself staring at her empty apartment; Aleph was gone.
16 The Ring
It was Sunday morning and Emelia sat in a hammock on the balcony, taking in deep breaths of salty sea air. She couldn’t decide what was better—the fresh coffee in her hand or the ocean view. The blue-green water crashing against the white sand was unlike anything Emelia had ever seen before. In all her life she had never seen the ocean up close, and she had a feeling that any beach on the mainland would be a letdown now. Once Emelia had finished her coffee, she slipped through the sliding glass door into her hotel suite and smiled. Frank Sinatra’s “Oh! Look At Me Now” was playing softly in the background.
Emelia’s flight had arrived late last night, so she still hadn’t taken the time to unpack. Her suitcase was on the living room couch, with her clothes from the day before scattered around the room. After a few moments’ hesitation, she sighed and bundled her clothes into her arms, carrying them into the bedroom.
Every window in the condo was open, as Emelia was determined to take advantage of the sunshine and ocean air. The warm tropical breeze tickled the back of her legs and slowly turned the pages of her open journal. Under other circumstances, it would have been the perfect vacation.
It was both nerve-wracking and liberating to be traveling the way that Emelia was—no phone, no credit cards, no plans. No one at home knew where she was and no one here knew who she was. Emelia had even given the lady at the hotel’s front desk a fake name.
Yesterday, from the airport payphone, she had made a call to Jay to ask for the time off work. At first he was reluctant, but the whole my-adopted-aunt-was-killed-in-my-apartment detail really seemed to soften him up. He had given her two weeks at the very least to find some peace and get things in order.
