Deviation (15 page)

Only what he saw nearly made him stop.

No robes.

Worse yet, barely clothed. Mud slicked over her legs - long legs, he registered - and then became distracted with the higher trail of mud. There was a tint of green, likely moss, circling her ribcage just under a dizzying view of breasts.

She was profile to him, still running, and he realized belatedly that the distance between them had closed. At the last moment he tackled her, turning mid-air out of some primal protective instinct. He landed on his side, the padded suit soaking up most of the impact, but her elbow managed to lodge just under his solar plexus and he lost his breath.

They skid to a stop in a jumble of limbs, his arms locked around her waist and her head just under his chin. She immediately began to struggle and Matt tightened his hold on her, still trying to catch his breath. He was unprepared for the strike. Her fist slammed into his mouth and his head bounced harshly off the pebbly ground.

Cursing, he let her go.

She scrambled to her feet and tried to run off again. She took three steps to the right and stopped, one armored Fomorri bursting onto the path right in front of her. Screaming, she whirled to the left and tried again, but he recognized Finnegan's rank as the soldier calmly stepped out of the jungle. All five Fomorri were in position, their weapons leveled at the woman in a clear command to stop running.

"Please," she panted. "Please don't hurt me."

Matt got to his feet and wiped the blood off his mouth. Why the hell had she hit him? Better yet, what the hell was she doing out here? But he didn't ask her those things. Instead, he asked the main question staring at them all; "Where are your robes?"

By all that was holy, she was beautiful. Three splats of mud traced up her neck and around her cheek, but there was no hiding it.

"Madame," he said again when she hadn't answered. "Where are your robes?"

Her blue eyes rounded with clear shock when she turned to face him and her mouth parted with a gasp. He saw the tremble in her body, recognized a sort of unhinged fear in her face before her eyes rolled back and she passed out. Finnegan caught her before she hit the ground, hefting her up and over his shoulder.

"You're awful smooth with the ladies, Boss," Newbill said. "Mind teaching me that trick?"

Matt ignored him and spoke to Finnegan. "Dose her with something to keep her calm." His eyes caught on the smooth curve of her legs and he frowned again. "And put something on her."

"Why would the Lothogy drop a naked woman on Oahu, Boss?" Chamberlain asked.

"Two rounds says she burnt their food," Newbill said.

"Newbill," Finnegan's voice cut the commentary down. "Take point."

Grumbling, Newbill moved to comply.

"Romberg, Pitts, take six." Finnegan worked with his belt for a moment, procuring a small syringe and stabbing it into the back of the woman's thigh. She jerked once in surprise and flopped limply over his shoulder again before he replaced the syringe in his belt. "Daylight's burning, gentlemen."

Matthew took position beside Finnegan more out of habit than preference. The rest of the Fomorri made a diamond type perimeter around them as they started back for the Io. Midmorning sun lit the path, bringing a startling view that he had managed to miss upon first exiting the ship. The legends of Oahu remained rooted in society, it's tragic use as a last resting place for the female race taught in every history class in the galaxy.

It was considered disrespectful to do more than hover over the island and Matthew felt a twinge of regret. While the woman dangling over Finnegan's shoulder undoubtedly had answers to several questions occupying his mind, the many grave markers crumbling on the side of the path did something to his heart. He was not a spiritual man, but there was something "otherly" about the place, something just on the verge of his awareness, prickling the hair on his arms.

He was relieved when they boarded the vessel again and even more relieved when they took off.

The woman was secured to a stretcher and covered by a trauma blanket for the flight. Matt stared hard at her face, ignoring the general commentary of the Fomorri. There was a mole just under her jaw, a fleck of imperfection in the golden-bronze skin.

The only imperfection he had seen.

His fist curled and his mouth tightened as something hard settled in his stomach.

What in blazes was going on?

***

Hedric hesitated just before her door. Everything he said to her only seemed to make things worse, and now that he thought about it; what was there to say? Kate wasn't Mesa and yet, a part of her was. Not just the physical part either. Zimmerman had done more than just use Kate's body as a backdrop and he could sense it. All that stubborn pride, all that fire she used to fight him, was an echo of the woman he loved.

Beyond all sense of rationality, Hedric hoped he could draw the Mesa in her out. He had to try.

With a deep breath, he keyed in the unlock code on the door-side panel. The magnetics hissed in release and he pushed the door open. Kate looked up from her seat near the southern wall and frowned at him. She looked ridiculous in the robes. He thought maybe he'd just gotten used to seeing her out of them, but he knew that wasn't the problem. It was the mulish, barely tolerant expression contorting her face that was the problem.

Mesa had never begrudged the robes. In fact, on the rare occasion that they'd gone shopping, she had always expressed excitement in purchasing a new set.

For a moment he regretted coming here. But he was drawn to her, spellbound by the similarities she shared with Mesa, and he knew he couldn't resist. Closing the door behind him, Hedric stepped into the little, egg-shaped room and tried to think of something to say.

"I'm not Mesa," she said clearly.

Startled, he caught her gaze and held it. The eyes were wrong, he realized. Kate had olive-green eyes, bordering on hazel, while Mesa's had been deep ocean blue.

"I know," he said.

"If you know then why did you take me?"

"I wasn't after you. I was only sent for Caresse Zimmerman." Hedric moved to the northern wall directly opposite her position and pulled a magnetized crate over. Sitting on it, he sighed and let the admission settle on the woman. His mind replayed the moment he'd first seen Kate. He'd known by the photographs in the apartment that she was not Zimmerman and was just as surprised to see her as she was to see them.

"So you kidnapped me by mistake?"

"No. I'd like to excuse it as a fluke but I can't. We both know I took you because you look like my wife."

"Your dead wife."

Hedric sucked in a pained breath and frowned at her. Struggling with a spurt of rage, he clenched his fists and concentrated on breathing. Did she have to be so callous about it?

"Look," Kate said and leaned forward. She seemed to be fighting her own battle against anger because she hissed a breath through her teeth. "I don't know what's going on here. I don't understand why anyone would need to kidnap Reesa and I don't care. I have a six year old son that I need to get back to. You know I'm not Mesa and I never will be. Please, Hedric, just take me home."

He felt his heart stutter when she said his name. Hope flickered across her face as she gazed at him. The fact that she had a son didn't really register for him, but if she kept looking at him like that he might move planets for her. Forcing himself to look away, Hedric tried to tally the expenses of a return trip through his mother's wormhole. But the realization that it had been some sort of wormhole only put the more bothersome questions back into his mind.

How had his mother discovered it and why hadn't she presented the information to the Community? What was she planning?

"My mother believes Zimmerman is some sort of prophet," he said quietly.

He'd meant it mostly for himself as he puzzled through their situation but he saw Kate tense in response. She snorted an unladylike laugh; "Reesa? She can't pick what she wants for lunch off a menu."

"And yet, here you are in the year 2998. Seems a bit odd, don't you think?"

Kate paled and slumped back in her chair. Hedric watched her for a long minute as she battled through her emotions. He almost went to her, instinctively wanting to help her in her distress. She closed her eyes and tears rolled over the curves of her cheeks. Too shocked to move, Hedric stared.

Mesa never cried.

"Oh, Quinn," she whispered.

Quinn, he thought. Her son.

He hadn't felt guilty about taking her. A small part of him still clung to the hope that reincarnation was real or something, but he'd never been a religious man and didn't really want to be. Faith required action and he had enough to do in a day that he didn't need to bring his immortal soul into the mix.

"Damn you," he said, getting to his feet. Anger was better than guilt so he held onto it, ignoring the way teary-eyed Kate blinked up at him. "Damn you to hell."

Stalking to the door, he left her. He didn't stop until he'd made it back to his room.

***

2998, Kate thought, staring at the door where Hedric had just left. Some part of her still wanted to call him the fake Hedric, but she just couldn't. Was time travel really possible? Kate thought Ben might know. Ben was always interested in science and technology. But Ben wasn't here to help her. Her heart ached at the thought.

God, what if this is the future?

Quinn and Ben would be long since dead and here she was, still alive and helpless to get home. She could have fought against crazy Lothogy fans, but how was she supposed to fight this? What she remembered of Reesa's books was a dismal world where women were tightly regulated and the exploration of science was revered. There were genetically mutated beasts on Mars and mercenaries and Kate felt altogether small in comparison.

But if this was the future, how had Reesa been able to write it all?

Prophets normally worked in a vague sense. Nostradamus might have alluded to the Third Reich, but he certainly never pinpointed Hitler by name. And Biblical prophets were normally sent on the mission of calling God's people back from sin, warning of consequences if their words were not heeded. Kate was certain that they did not write novels full of details about the future.

And yet, Kate really was sitting on a space ship heading to Mars.

This is crazy
, she thought
. I am going crazy
.

Reesa's bag sat slumped on the bed, the faded flower pattern looking strangely out of place. Kate moved to pick it up, still struggling for a sense of coherency. It was crazy to believe she was in the future, but it was even crazier to think she was somehow living inside Reesa's fictional world.

Holding the damp purse in her hands, Kate determined to choose the lesser of two evils.

She was really here, in the future. And if the Lothogy had managed to get her here, then it could certainly get her home. It was a long shot, but she might be able to convince Hedric to take her back. If not, Keats was itching to do something.

Opening the purse, Kate began to search for anything useful. She felt a pang of guilt for invading Reesa's privacy, but at this point it was a matter of survival. They were each of them on their own. As much as Kate loved Reesa, if she had to choose between seeing Quinn again and saving her friend, there was really no contest.

Reesa would understand.

Check book. Bubble gum. A Bic pen. One remaining 3x5 card.

Kate took the pen, pausing as the words on the 3x5 card came into view. Underlined and highlighted they seemed to bark at her; Patient Zero.

The hair on her arms went stiff, her mind flipping back to that moment in the boat. The moment she had seen Reesa's face pinch with utter, lost focus, as though she were stuck in two worlds, she thought again.

"Oh, Reesa," she murmured into the empty room. "What have you done?"

"
Eden II announced its successful landing on Mars. The group of twelve scientists is to be the first long-term human inhabitants on the planet since the cultivation project began.
" - A.P. January 3, 2264

"Where is your husband?" Borden asked her from across the room.

Reesa flinched. When she'd ditched the robes in the swamp she'd only been thinking of the hindrance it was to her survival at the time. Now, however, staring at the nemesis of her books, those stupid robes were the only thing in the world she wanted back. Dark blue eyes roved across her form, searching for her personal disfigurement. It was a pity hers could not be seen in the physical form.

If she had to guess, she would have assumed they were on the Balor VII, in Borden's private meeting room, hovering over Earth. It certainly looked like Earth through the window. Clear blue and white and beautiful, she thought. The idea of being in space really should have perturbed her more than it did, but Reesa could only muster a curious and distant sort of feeling for the revelation.

"I no longer have one," she said. Which was the truth, in a roundabout sort of way. She had almost been married once, after all. And Matthew Borden wouldn't understand the concept of an unmarried couple living together. In the world she'd created there was no room for such familiarities between men and women.

"Then where, Madame, are your robes?"

"I lost them in the swamp."

He took slow, even strides toward her. Then he diverted to make a circle around her, searching still for some glint of robotic in her skin. It was funny the way life worked sometimes. If she'd just decided to stay in and write she would have been abducted while wearing sweat pants and a breathable top. But no, she'd gone sailing. Thus every inch of her legs were exposed, from the hem of her khaki shorts to the base of her ankles. Her tank-top hid very little, and Matthew Borden was not someone who missed details.

She resisted the urge to squirm, hoping the swamp mud that still clung to her skin might add a small amount of mystery to her form. It was a vain hope. She knew that the moment he stopped in front of her and took her chin in his thumb and forefinger. First he turned her head to the left, then to the right, and with considerable surprise written on his features, he turned her to look him straight in the face.