The Edge of Forever

Copyright © 2015 by Melissa E. Hurst

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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

Cover design by Rain Saukas
Cover photo credit Thinkstock and iStock

ISBN: 978-1-63220-424-0
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-63220-892-7

Printed in the United States of America

For my family. I love you always and forever.

1

BRIDGER

MARCH 11, 2146

T
HE
cadets surrounding me are wilding out. Most of them are peering out the shuttle windows at the decay of Old Denver stretching below us. Their excited voices grind into my skull. I wish they’d be quiet, but I really can’t blame them. This is my class’s first time trip out of our own century. We’re going to record a presidential assassination.

But I’m numb. Just like I’ve been for the last month.

My girlfriend, Vika, is sitting next to me. Her clear blue eyes are clouded with worry as she asks, “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” A sliver of guilt slices through me from the lie.

“Well, you’ve haven’t said anything since we left the Academy.”

She’s right. I’d pulled up the mission schematics on my DataLink as soon as we boarded the shuttle and pretended to study them. I should’ve known she’d realize something was wrong with me. Even though we’ve only been dating for six months, she can read me like I’m broadcasting my feelings on a Jumbotron.

I brush back a strand of blonde hair that’s curling across her cheek. “I’m fine,” I say, forcing a smile.

“Are you sure?”

Before I can reply, a loud voice says, “Attention, cadets.” All talking stops. Professor Cayhill is standing in the middle of the aisle. He’s dressed in the same black and gray uniform we’re all wearing. I swear it always startles me when I hear him. Cayhill is a puny-looking guy, yet his voice is really deep. “Please settle down now. We will arrive at the Old Capitol Building ruins in exactly two minutes.”

After Cayhill takes his seat, a few cadets begin to whisper again. Even though it’s quieter now, an excitement still fills the shuttle.

“I can’t believe we’re really here.” Vika’s eyes are huge as she stares past me out the window. “We’re really going to do this.”

Suddenly I’m overwhelmed with guilt. I’ve been a jerk to her all morning. I wish I could wrap my arms around her. I want to bury my face against her neck. I want to breathe in the cherry scent that clings to her. She’s the one person I can always go to when I feel like I’m suffocating from sorrow. She’s the one person who makes me feel alive.

But I can’t do that now. Not on a time trip.

Instead I entwine my fingers with hers and squeeze. “I’m just glad they partnered us this time. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

It was hard dragging myself out of bed this morning. Hard getting dressed and going through the motions of prepping for a time trip. Vika commed me first thing to make sure I wasn’t going to back out. I snapped at her. But she was right. I’ve already missed two time trips in the past few weeks. I can’t miss any more. Not if I want to make it to the next level of study at the Academy.

Vika grins at me. Her face is flushed, making the few freckles sprinkled across her nose stand out. “You know, I think I’ll love you until the day I die. Maybe longer.”

I don’t know why, but a chill creeps over me. Probably because she said she loves me. We haven’t gone there yet. And I don’t know what to say. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

That was lame.

The shuttle begins to descend. I glance out the window at the Old Capitol Building ruins. I’ve seen holograms of it when it was still intact, with white granite and a gold-topped dome. Another casualty of the Second Civil War.

The outer door slides open with a hiss, but Professor Cayhill holds up a hand before anyone can move. “Disembark in an orderly fashion and report directly to your team leaders.”

After the team leaders exit, the cadets begin to file out. Vika tugs on my hand, and we join them. A cold wind blows as we exit the shuttle, whipping at the weeds and trees that have spread across Old Denver like cancer. I blink against the biting chill as I wait for the thrill of an impending shift to spark.

But the thrill never surfaces.

“My team over here,” Professor March calls out. He’s leaning against the back of the shuttle, next to the black A
CADEMY FOR
T
IME
T
RAVEL AND
R
ESEARCH
lettering.

The cadets who’ve already exited the shuttle disperse to their assigned team leaders. There are not many of us—eighteen total, divided into three groups.

Professor March clears his throat and taps the antiquated watch he wears. The gold band gleams against his brown skin. “Time’s ticking and we have a mission to complete.” We hurry over to the small group huddled around him. Once we’re there, he says, “Now that you’re all assembled, are there any questions?” Silence greets him. “Okay, here are the comm-sets. You know the drill.”

He picks up a black case resting next to him and flips open the lid. Inside are the thin communication headsets we use on our trips. I grab one and slip it over the top of my head. Then I make sure the ear and mouthpieces are in place before rotating the eye lenses forward. It takes another few seconds to punch in a code on my DataLink so it can sync with the comm-set.

Now the Academy can officially witness everything I see and hear. Or they will, once we activate the comm-sets after the shift.

Back at the Academy, a panel from the Department of Temporal Affairs will evaluate everything we record today. The cadets with the best footage will advance early to the next level of training at the Academy. I grit my teeth and force myself to focus. I can’t screw up today. Not if I want the DTA to assign me to the military division of study.

“Okay, let’s roll,” Professor March says when everyone is ready. Then he looks at me. “Hold up, Bridger, I’d like to speak to you in private.”

I close my eyes for a second. I was hoping he wouldn’t do something like this. But yeah, I should’ve known better.

My teammates cast curious glances in my direction. Vika grabs my hand and gives it a tight squeeze. Professor March stares hard at everybody until they head toward the hill in front of us. That’s where the ruins of the Old Capitol Building rest. When everyone is out of earshot, he asks, “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, sir.”

“You sure about that? You look a little out of it.”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night.” That’s not the whole truth, but maybe it’ll be enough to get him to leave me alone.

He lets out a puff of air. “Bridger, what am I going to do with you?”

I stay quiet. My dad used to say sometimes the best answer is to keep your mouth shut. I’m not so sure how that’s going to work with the professor. He’s known me since I was born. He was Dad’s best friend, since their days at the Academy.

“I realize things haven’t been easy for you, but I need to know that I can trust you. There’s no room for error on a time trip.”

“I’m fine. Really.” I force myself to look him in the eye, force my hands to stay steady.

“If you’re not ready, then please let me know. Nobody at the Academy will hold it against you.”

“I need this,” I say before he can continue. “Please. Dad wouldn’t want me to sit around doing nothing.” My throat constricts.

All of the fear, the failing to attend the other time trips, the unfocused way I’m behaving . . . it’s for one reason. This is my first time trip since Dad died last month.

Professor March stares at me for what seems like an eternity. Then he rubs his hand across his buzzed hair. “I can respect that. But tell me if you think you won’t be able to complete the assignment. Okay?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

I walk with him up the hill and through the crumbling outer wall of the ruins, grateful that we don’t have to talk anymore. All of the cadets are inside, along with the other two professors. Nobody says a word. The only sounds come from the wind whistling through cracks and our footsteps crunching over broken chunks of marble. We find our team, and I move next to Vika. She gives me a questioning glance. I just fake smile at her again.

Professor Cayhill clears his throat. “Attention, cadets. I’d like a word before we depart.”

I stifle a groan. Here we go. Cayhill loves his pompous lectures. He does this on every mission. For some reason he feels the need to flaunt his position as the department chair for our class. I send a silent thanks to whoever assigned me to Professor March’s team.

“This is a momentous occasion, your first trip outside of this century. As such, I hope you take this responsibility seriously. The assassination of President Foster was one of the events that led to the Second Civil War. As you complete your assignments today, ponder the sacrifices made, the bloodshed, and the hard work involved in rebuilding our country. Remember, you are a spectator, nothing more. No matter what you may witness today, do nothing to intervene. The timeline is sacred.”

Yeah, like we haven’t had that pounded into our brains a million times.

Professor March looks sharply in my direction and frowns. I wonder for a moment if he somehow read my mind, then I look away, feeling stupid. He’s only a Time Bender. Nobody has more than one Talent.

As the speech concludes, I catch Professor March sighing and checking his watch. The act brings a smile to my face. So I’m not the only one sick of listening to Cayhill.

We split off and follow our team leaders to our assigned departure coordinates. Professor March doesn’t go far, leading us to a partially standing wall. “Okay, folks, check your settings. We’re shifting to July 4, 2076. Time will be exactly oh nine hundred hours.”

I lift my right arm and activate the interface on my silver Chronoband. A small holo-screen hovers over it and I quickly scan the data, making sure the time and date have already been programmed. Techs back at the Academy do this, but we always double check. Talk about a messed up situation if we miss our target time.

“Remember, this is the largest gathering you’ve ever shifted to,” Professor March says when we’re all finished. “You will undoubtedly get shoved, so it’s imperative you stay with your assigned partner at all times. If you witness any suspicious activity conducted by other unknown Time Benders, alert me. Understood?”

We nod.

“Good. Let’s do this. Activate cloaks.”

I press the tiny gold button on my collar, along with everyone else. A faint shimmer surrounds our bodies. Most people would think we vanished, or they might see a ripple in the air like that over a flame. The comm-sets allow us to see anyone who’s cloaked.

“Fixate date and time in your mind.”

I picture the numbers in my head like a calendar.

“Engage Chronobands on my mark.”

My fingers float over the activation button and twitch slightly. I force myself to breathe deeply, knowing what comes next. My heart begins to race.

Professor March’s voice rings clear and strong. “Three, two, one. Engage.”

I press the button.

Instantly I’m swallowed by the Void. It’s as if I’m standing in a pitch-black room that’s shrouded in silence. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath. My chest tightens and my lungs constrict. I want to breathe so badly, but there’s no air. I want to touch something—anything—but I can’t. You can’t feel anything when you’re in between times. It’s like I’m alone. Like I’m the only person in the universe.