Skyline (3 page)

Charlotte
drew herself up, flexing the muscles she’d gained from years of working off fat
that Monroe never had to deal with. This woman was threatening her? Telling her
what to do? Well, Charlotte wasn’t one to be bossed around. Not even Felix did
that.

This
woman wouldn’t stop her from seeing all of time with Monroe. From letting
Charlie meet his grandpa.

“Where
did you get that device?” Charlotte asked. “Did you steal it from Leanor?” The
woman tilted her head. “You couldn’t have invented it on your own; that much I
know.”

“You
don’t … You think … ?”

“What
do you mean, you changed this city?” Bill asked, stepping beside Charlotte. She
could see that he’d drawn himself out of his usual slouch, pulled in his
stomach a little. “Wouldn’t that break time? Ruin history?”

“And
who’s ‘them’?” Monroe asked. “Why would anyone send us here?”

“Jesus,”
the woman said. “You don’t even know. You have no
clue
who I am, do
you?”

“Enlighten
us,” Charlotte said.

“What
is this?” the woman asked, the fear evaporating from her voice. “Your first
trip?” She glanced at Bill, said, “Did I change time; did I break it?” She
laughed. “You can’t break time, just like you can’t break a mountain by
chiseling a face into it. You make it your own. And this?” She glared at
Charlotte. “This is
my
device.” She hefted a mesh orb from her bag,
about the same size as Charlotte’s astrolabe, but composed of a different
material.

She
activated her device with a flick of her finger; light glowed through the mesh.
“I’m going. Four time travelers is too big a spotlight. And thanks to me”—her
eyes fell on Monroe—“you’ll never meet
them
at all.”

She
released her hand and blipped out of existence.

Charlotte
tugged her astrolabe from her bag. “C’mon,” she said, holding it out and
illuminating it in one motion. “We have to tell Leanor. She’ll know what’s
going on.” Would she? If Leanor did, that would mean she’d been lying all this
time. “Or she’ll know what to do.” It didn’t matter. “Let’s go.”

Monroe
hesitated, then reached a hand to Charlotte’s shoulder.

Bill
didn’t. “Go? We can’t just
go
. You heard her. This is Heisenberg! He was
right, change is possible, time is malleable and … Well, look where we are. How
can we just leave?”

Jesus.
“I thought you were worried about the butterfly effect?”

Bill
shook his head, but his focus stayed on Charlotte. “I am. I was. I am. But what
if she’s right? What if time is what you make it? What if we can make it
better
?”
Now his gaze lifted to the World Trade Center above.

“You’ll
take
her
word for it? A woman who gave us zero answers? A woman who
shouldn’t even exist?”

Bill
folded his arms. “Not just her. A well established—”

“We’re
going, Bill.” Charlotte should’ve rescheduled. Told Monroe how important this
was. Or—God, why didn’t she think of this before?—taken Monroe through time
during those two minutes when Bill had been inside Suni’s. Two minutes were
limitless. “If you really like, you can tell Leanor all about Heisenberg, argue
until you’re blue. And then she’ll calmly tell you exactly why he and this
woman are wrong.”

Charlotte
hoped.

Bill
balled his hands into fists. Bit his lip. And then he sighed, stepping over.
“Fine,” he said, rubbing his bald head. “But why would time care when our
universe doesn’t?”

Without
replying, Charlotte drew a C on the astrolabe, and lights spattered on the
ground below. She twisted the lights, the dates advancing quickly, until she
found the sticking point that meant their time.

The
men gripped her shoulder, and she let go. Time swept them through twenty-two
years. For a second, planes flashed in the sky, followed by a dusty cloud
around them. But as time sped up, a construction pit grew below their feet.
They were kept frozen in the air as Freedom Tower constructed beside them. When
at last time restarted, the same night, the same second they’d left, only two
square holes remained of what they’d seen.

Without
knowing why, Charlotte stepped toward the closest square hole, and the others
followed. All along the edge, names were carved in black marble. Water fell in
sheets along the sides, then along a sloped path to the center, where lights
blazed up into the sky, bright as day.

Did
time self-correct, as she and Leanor had believed? Or was it more like a
mountain that could be carved?

“I’m
sorry,” Charlotte said. She’d stopped Bill, and here was the result. How many
people died that day? Monroe would know the exact figure, but Charlotte didn’t
dare ask. “Leanor will know. She’ll tell us if time can be changed. C’mon.”

On
the short subway ride back to Suni’s, no one talked. But this time Charlotte
didn’t feel judgment or worry from the men. Like her, their minds were probably
too crowded. Who was that anachronistic woman? And did a “them” mean there were
even more time travelers? And time … Could Bill be right? What if all those
names, that monument, could be erased?

Leanor
would know.

They
walked down the darkened sidewalk along the Mid River, drawing nearer to where
the moon and cigarette butts illuminated drinkers at Suni’s. But instead of a
single figure at the table they’d left, two people sat. One big, one small.
Charlotte’s heart froze. “Who’s with Leanor?”

But
she got closer and realized that the small figure was a child, a small glass of
passionfruit juice in front of his tan face. The other was slightly larger than
Leanor, with dark brown skin, a buzzcut, and dressed in a lavender polo.
“Felix. Charlie.” She exhaled, closing her eyes. Tonight was about them, too. Once
she cleared it with Leanor, she could take them through time next. “Sorry if I
kept you waiting. We got a little sidetracked.”

Charlie
looked up, his eyes bright and watchful like always. “We’ve been waiting five
minutes,” he said, pointing to five ticks he’d made in crayon at the top of a
new drawing. This one featured a lone table filled with glasses.

She
looked to Felix, whose dark features were drawn, pinched and angry. “It’s fine,
Charlotte,” her husband claimed. But his eyes wouldn’t meet hers.

Charlotte
knelt beside Charlie, squeezed him with one arm, and kissed his curly black
hair. “I’m sorry honey.” He set down his crayon and wrapped his arms around
her, kissing her cheek.

“Daddy
got me passionfruit juice,” he said, and turned back to his drawing, perfecting
the sky with his dark blue crayon.

“So
I see.” She turned to Felix, placed a hand on his coarse-haired arm. “I really
am sorry,” she told him. They hadn’t embraced in a long time. Her time at work
had done more than simply freeze their relationship. “Monroe and I were
checking something else.”

“And
Bill, I see.” He shifted his arm out from under her hand and held his out to
Bill. “Nice to see you again.”

Bill
took the hand, his skin shining like a ghost’s in the moonlight. He gave Charlotte
a confused glance.

“Where’s
Leanor?” Charlotte asked. “Getting another drink?” Her water glass was missing,
but Monroe’s, Bill’s, and Charlotte’s mugs and cocktail glasses all remained.
Charlotte’s beer had finally defrosted.

Felix
sat back down, frowning. Now he met Charlotte’s gaze, his dark eyebrows knit
low in confusion. “Leanor? Who’s that? Another friend?”

“Leanor?”
He knew who Leanor was. The woman he accused of stealing Charlotte away. The
woman he said would understand if Charlotte took a night, a weekend, off. The
woman he blamed for Charlotte’s year-long absence. “Y’know, my boss?”

“Your
boss?” Felix’s freckled brown face crinkled upward, then his eyes lit up. “Oh!
That Leanor. Your benefactor.”

“My
what? No.” Charlotte shook her head, even as butterflies fluttered inside. A
voice inside whispered,
Something’s gone horribly wrong
. “Leanor’s the
woman I’ve been working with for the past three years. On the astrolabe.
Remember?”

“She
is?” Felix lifted his hands. “You never told me about her. I thought you’d
never met her. Your benefactor, I mean. I could’ve sworn her name was Leanor,
too.”

“That’s
…” Charlotte couldn’t finish. She looked to Monroe who lifted his hands, then
to Bill. And Bill’s words came back.

Time
is malleable
.

Felix
folded his arms before him, his chest bulging out. Not quite menacing to
Charlotte; she’d seen him build those muscles. Beside him, Charlie watched with
an open, curious face. His crayon hung in mid-air.

How
could she explain this to them? Something had happened. Something
was
happening. Somewhere in time, Leanor had been erased. Would Charlotte be next,
the astrolabe vanishing from her bag and memory? If Felix didn’t remember
Leanor, then anything could happen.

Her
instincts told her to send them away. Once she solved this oddity, she’d come
home. She’d fix things then. But that’s what tonight was supposed to be about.
And if—since—time was malleable, how could she leave Felix and Charlie behind?
She could return to a world where Felix never knew her. Where Charlie never
existed.

How
could she even consider that risk?

“Come
on,” Charlotte said, attempting a smile. “We need to go investigate something.”

Monroe
and Bill gave her brief nods. Charlie slipped his crayons into a pocket and
leaped from his chair. But Felix remained seated, his gaze fixed on Charlie’s
drawing. Five glasses, two filled, three nearly empty. His dark eyes flicked to
the drinks Charlie had captured. “You already showed him, didn’t you?” He
turned to Charlotte, to Monroe and Bill standing behind her. “Bill, too?”

Now
Charlotte saw the crossed arms for what they were. Not intimidation, but
defense. It was written all over him: his thick lower lip bitten, his head
dropped low. Just as she’d done this past year, she’d left him out.

Charlotte
felt like here insides were scooped out. Displayed in front of everyone. She
could practically feel everyone nearby watching, sneering at her. How could she
choose her
brother
over her husband?

She’d
had good reasons, hadn’t she?

She
couldn’t remember.

Gulping,
touching Felix’s shoulder, Charlotte said, “I’m sorry.” He met her eyes, his
eyebrows high, entreating. Desperate to forgive her. “I’m sorry, Felix. I
should’ve … It’s …” Monroe loved history. Bill obviously knew time travel
better than even she did. Felix was a graphic designer, a dad, and that was
about it. “I’m sorry. C’mon, I’ll explain everything.”

He
sighed, his lower lip moving with whatever response he was keeping in. “Okay,”
he said. “That’s what tonight is, right?” He stood, not quite matching
Charlotte’s height, and took her hand, his fingers locked together instead of
pushed through hers.

“Let’s
go to the lab. I want to see what happened.”

Monroe
nodded and leaned down to her little boy. “C’mon Charlie.” But the boy looked
back to Charlotte, his face squished to one side in concern. Once she nodded,
his face relaxed, and he let Monroe and Bill lead him away.

“‘What
happened,’” Felix repeated as they followed. “What do you mean? You told
Charlie we were going somewhere special. He’s been to your lab dozens of times.
Whenever I needed a break.”

She
gulped. This world had changed so much, but that hadn’t. Felix was still
Charlie’s main caretaker, she the occasional nanny. Too busy with her work
before, and in this new world, this timeline or whatever, she was probably
busier. Without Leanor, she would’ve had to do everything alone.

Charlotte
felt hollow as she whispered once more, “I’m sorry. Not just for tonight, but
for the past year. However long it’s been.”

“
Three
years,” Felix said, his voice brittle, about to snap. He released her hand and
turned to face her like an immovable boulder. “You know it’s been three years.”

Three
years? Charlotte had to work hard to keep from stepping back. Already she’d given
away too much to Felix. How could it be three years? But as she thought it
through, three years made sense. In a world without Leanor, she would’ve
figured out what the astrolabe did faster, worked harder to perfect it. Three
years of pushing Felix and Charlie away? How had they ever put up with that?

And
yet, despite that massive shift, she was still revealing tonight? God, was time
malleable or self-correcting?

“It’s
…” She searched his angry eyes. She couldn’t tell him; he wouldn’t believe her.
And she couldn’t show him. Not yet. Not without Charlie, Monroe, and Bill
beside her, safe from any further changes. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Then
what
was
the plan for tonight?”

She
opened her mouth, but no response came out.

Felix
shook his head, bitterness on his lips. “I thought tonight was about
honesty
,
Charlotte. About clearing up this fucking mess. Not more half answers. Not more
hedging and dodging. Not more deciding how much you can trust me. And you
trusted
him
, first, of course.” Felix flung out a hand toward Monroe.

Thankfully,
they were far enough away not to hear.

“You
don’t understand, Felix.”

“Because
I never do. Because I’m never smart enough.” But as he crossed his arms and
widened his stance, Charlotte had dêjà vu. They’d
had
this fight before.
She’d lost that one, just as surely as she’d lose this. “Or is it that I’m not
as clever as Monroe? Or that I’m not whatever it is that earned
Bill
a
spot before me?”

Charlotte
gritted her teeth. “Monroe brought Bill along.”

He
arched an eyebrow. “And who invited Monroe?”

Charlotte
couldn’t answer that.

“Exactly.”
With a sneer, Felix shook his head. “Tell you what. You keep on hanging out
with Monroe and Bill. Share whatever secrets, have whatever fun you had before
you came back to the table expecting Leanor instead of Charlie and me.” He
strode off, his muscled back tight, his arms clenched into fists.

He
knelt beside Charlie, took his hand, and—with one final concerned look from
Charlie—they walked away.

Once,
she’d been alongside them. Holding Charlie’s hand—the skin always so soft even
after he ceased to be a toddler. Listening to both Charlie and Felix’s
observations of the world around them. Adding some technical oddities when they
came up—Charlie always loved that. They’d travel together, always together.

Now,
all she could do was watch their silhouettes disappear into the night.

They
weren’t safe here. It didn’t seem like anyone was safe anymore. But Charlotte
couldn’t unfreeze herself. She couldn’t imagine the words that would bring
Felix back.

If
she’d shown him what the astrolabe could do, would it change his mind? Or would
he—realizing that Leanor had been snatched from history after a single
talk—forbid them from ever traveling again? How could he care about Leanor, a
woman that now he’d never met? Never hated at least, but never met.

“Charlotte?”
Suddenly, Monroe was before her, Bill at her side.

“They’ll
be okay, right?” she asked Bill.

He
stepped forward. “If Heisenberg’s right”—he grimaced—“nothing’s certain,
Charlotte. Everything could change.”

“But
Leanor …” That was a change that
had
happened. A change she had to set
right. “Come on,” she said. “I need to see what happened. I need to learn my
own history.”

•
• • • • • • • • • • •

Charlotte’s
key to the laboratory’s antechamber still worked. Her code to the laboratory
itself still unlocked with three quick beeps. The second door opened with the
slight squeak it always had. But when the lights flickered on, everything was
changed.

Gone
were the metal tables, the messy piles of information and prototypes, the
historical astrolabes that Leanor had purchased for inspiration. Instead, one
wall was lined with a series of filing cabinets. Another had glass shelves
filled with dozens of what had to be Charlotte’s earliest attempts. In the
center of the room lay a massive oak table. Couches sat in one corner, beside a
TV, a bright blue bookshelf, and a small plastic table covered in Charlie’s
omnipresent drawings.

Charlotte
stepped through the space, touching each difference. The table. The cabinets.
The couch that almost had the indentation of Charlie’s little butt. With her
eyes squeezed shut, she tried to remember what had been here. Why
hadn’t
she made a special space for Charlie? Maybe she’d been a better mother here,
despite Felix’s opinion.

Or
maybe she’d had better intentions.

At
the filing cabinets, Charlotte pulled out a binder and found pages detailing
GPS positioning. How it worked, how it could be smaller, how it could be
attached to the star locators. All in her handwriting without a single notation
from Leanor. Gulping down bile, she dropped the book. Pulled out another.

This
one had hundreds of star charts through time, with various notes about how
stars moved, how the planets adjusted. Still in her handwriting. Still nothing
from Leanor. She dropped that binder too, frantically paging through another
and another and another.

Everything
Felix had said was confirmed.

Monroe
and Bill stood frozen in the middle of the room, eyebrows raised as they
whispered to each other.

“She’s
really gone, ’Roe,” she said, hands shaking as she crossed to show him the
latest binder. “I thought—I hoped that Felix was wrong. That whatever had
changed was smaller. Maybe Leanor was still working with me, but advised me not
to tell anyone. But he was right. She never existed.”

Monroe
bit his lip. “He said she was your benefactor.”

“But
not here, ’Roe!” She breathed, trying not to freak out. This was worse than a sudden
shift through time. This was a shift through worlds. With no way back. “She was
never here.” She asked Bill, “Do you know what happened? How could Leanor
disappear when all we did was meet another time traveler?”

“‘Them,’”
Monroe whispered.

Bill
frowned, not quite as disturbed as Monroe’s wide eyes suggested. But then, he’d
never been in this lab—
Leanor’s
lab—before. “You said you traveled a
lot. And nothing like this ever happened? No random changes that you didn’t
remember?”

Monroe
muttered under his breath, “No massive changes you didn’t remember?”

“Nothing.
Nothing
,” Charlotte stressed. “You have to believe me.”

Chewing
on his lip, Bill admitted, “This is what I was afraid of.”

“And
yet,” Monroe pointed out, “you wanted to stop 9/11. Right?”

“Time
is
malleable,” Bill said, his voice building. “Doesn’t this prove that?
That anachronistic woman was right. It’s like a mountain, not some taut rope
about to snap. But that means we have to be careful. We can make changes if
we’re careful.”

Charlotte
shook her head, tasting bile. “But look what happens! We didn’t even
make
a change. We spoke to someone, another time traveler, and
this
happened.”

“Then
that’s how,” Bill said, spreading his hands. “She must’ve done this. Somehow,
warning us off wasn’t enough. She found out about us, and tried stopping the
astrolabe’s construction at its source. Leanor.”

The
woman must’ve done something worse than “stopping the astrolabe’s construction”
for Leanor not to be here now. “How?”

With
a gulp, Monroe reminded her, “You said Leanor’s name, Char.”

Exhaling,
Charlotte massaged her temple. She had. This was her fault.

“I
want to see it,” Charlotte said, reaching into her bag. “I don’t care if it’s a
bad idea. I don’t care about ripples or butterflies.”
And Felix and Charlie?
a voice inside asked. They’d be okay. They’d have to be. “There’s only one way
that I could have this exact lab, still. Leanor must have still rented it out,
then given it to me after our interview.”

She
dialed back the astrolabe to the date Leanor had often spoken about—a week
before Charlotte started. “You coming?” she asked when the men hadn’t moved
toward her.

The
shared a glance, then touched her. She released her grip on the astrolabe.

The
lights in the laboratory flickered on and off, faster and faster, as Charlotte
worked in reverse, until everything was a dull blur. Prototypes disappeared
from the glass shelves. Then the shelves themselves, the cabinets, and
Charlie’s nook moved out. The last to go was the oak table. When time slowed,
the lab was pitch-black.

A
harsh, low voice boomed through the empty lab. “Should’ve told your lackeys to
be more careful.”

Something
thudded against the wall, accompanied by a shriek.

“Leanor?”
Charlotte asked. She couldn’t see anything.

“And
look who’s come to join us, right on time.”

She
heard Monroe sprint away from the voices, back to the entrance. The lights
illuminated, and Charlotte saw Leanor pressed up against the wall. A hulking
dark-skinned blue-haired man had Leanor’s head in his hands. A bloody spatter
dripped on the wall behind Leanor’s white hair.