The Edge of Forever (12 page)

I almost feel bad for lying to her.

We’re meeting at Elijah’s house. From there we’re supposed to take Elijah’s family hover bikes to camp in the Rockies, like we usually do every few months. Zed and Elijah really are going up there. They’re taking my DataLink in case Mom decides to track me.

I’m catching a hypersonic plane to Georgia. Hopefully I’ll be back sometime tonight. Or at least in a few days.

The crowd parts long enough for me to glimpse a flash of blonde hair. Just like Vika’s. I almost call out her name. Instead I close my eyes for a few seconds. That wasn’t Vika. Just like it wasn’t her at the memorial ceremony. Even though I was late, everyone else viewed her body before it was taken away for cremation. One of the possible side effects of taking too much Calmer is hallucinations. I know I’ve taken too much this past week.

After riding the maglev across town, I exit and walk the few blocks to Elijah’s place. I’ve been this way countless times before, and yet I still stare in awe at the houses. They’re all huge and sit on large landscaped lots. Like Dad used to say, you can’t hide money. And Elijah’s family definitely has it. His great-grandmother helped develop Chronobands.

A maid answers the door and informs me that Elijah and Zed are waiting for me in the game room, which is where we usually hang out. I have to pass several more rooms to get there. Each one is full of the latest tech gadgets or priceless historical artifacts.

I find Elijah sitting on one end of a dark blue, U-shaped couch. He’s watching a vid on the giant TeleNet. Zed is sitting opposite him, wearing a pair of Sim Game glasses.

“Man, you sure you want to do this?” Elijah asks.

“Yes, I’ve got to,” I say, leaning against the side of the antique pool table.

“But have you really thought this through?”

Zed slips off the glasses. “And what are we supposed to do if your mom comms you?”

“I don’t know,” I snap. Yesterday they were all supportive. They said I needed to find out the truth. I snatch off my DataLink and toss it to Zed. “Don’t answer it. She’ll probably comm one of you, so tell her mine is messed up or something.”

Elijah frowns. “Do you think she’ll buy that? This is your mother we’re talking about.”

I try not to roll my eyes. “I get what you’re saying, but it’s not like we’re doing something unusual. We go camping all the time.”

“Except you’re not really going,” Elijah mutters. He walks over to me and slips a new DataLink out of his pocket. “Here’s the replacement. You owe me three hundred credits.”

“Thanks,” I say as I put it on. “Look, I’ve got to go. My flight leaves in less than an hour.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, man.” Elijah places a hand on my shoulder. “Are you really sure you want to do this?”

“You sound like my mom,” I say.

“Damn, Bridger. That’s a cut,” Zed says with a smirk. He stands and stretches.

Elijah looks from me to Zed and laughs. “For real.”

“You guys, nothing bad will happen. Mom thinks I’m with you. I’ll zip over to Georgia, shift back long enough to see if Dad’s there, and be back before you know it.”

“Yeah, you might be able to do that if you have a Chronoband,” Elijah says. He glares at me, his jaw tightening.

He’s right, but nobody has access to Chronobands unless you go through the Academy or the DTA. No exceptions.

As I reassure Zed and Elijah again, I ignore the small voice inside me telling me I’m lying. With free shifting, nothing is certain. It’s something I’d never consider using under normal circumstances. But now it’s the only option I have.

“Come on,” I say, heading toward the door. “We have to leave together if this is going to work.”

“Right,” Zed says.

Elijah and Zed sling their portacases over their shoulders and follow me out. Elijah stops by the dining room to let his parents know that we’re leaving. We’re almost to the front door when a piercing shriek echoes through the house.

“Grams on the loose?” Zed asks Elijah.

Elijah starts to answer, but then footsteps thud behind us. We look back to find a woman running down the stairs. She appears to be middle aged, but I know better. The woman is Elijah’s great-grandmother, the Chronoband pioneer.

She’s also a clone.

My pulse thrums, seeing her like this.

After so many clones went crazy, most of them were forcibly institutionalized by the government. Those with enough money could afford to be taken care of at home.

“Somebody help me!” she screeches. “They’re trying to kill me!”

Two more people are behind her—a young nurse and another woman. It’s Elijah’s grandmother. She looks older than her own mother. Talk about messed up.

Elijah’s grandmother calls out, “Mom, please wait. Nobody is trying to hurt you.”

Elijah heaves a deep sigh. “Just a minute, guys.”

I feel helpless as Elijah goes back and waits at the bottom of the stairs. His great-grandmother stops running, her neck swiveling back and forth between Elijah and the women behind her. “Leave me alone! Just leave me alone!” Then she starts screaming.

The women finally reach her. Elijah’s grandmother murmurs something soothing. The nurse extracts a tiny syringe from her pocket and stabs his great-grandmother in the neck. Within seconds, the screams stop. Elijah hurries up the stairs to hug his grandmother and kiss the other one on the cheek. She just stares blankly in the space ahead of her.

After they lead her back upstairs, Elijah rejoins us. “Sorry about that. You know how it is when Grandma and Grams visit.”

Less than two hours later, I exit the hypersonic plane in Athens, Georgia. Like the New Denver terminal, it’s crowded. The only difference is there are way more Purists here. It’s not always easy to identify Purists, but the ones in here stand out like a Jumbotron flashing in the night sky. Obviously overweight, showing signs of premature aging or poor health, they’ve steadily refused the benefits of genetic modification. And they always reek of too much sweat. Bunch of idiots.

The Purists cast disgusted glances at me. Probably because I’m in my Academy uniform. I should have worn regular clothes, but I need the cloaking device when I get to 2013. If I could’ve gotten my hands on a Jewel of Illusion, or Jewill, I wouldn’t need my uniform. Those were cloaking devices implanted in jewelry. The government outlawed them soon after they were introduced to the general population. They claimed Jewills encouraged criminal behavior.

“Abomination,” someone says from behind me. I whirl around, but whoever said it doesn’t confront me. Figures. Purists like to snarl and protest in large groups. Individually, they’re cowards. They know anyone who’s been modified can kick their ass.

It takes another half hour to catch a shuttle to Willow Creek. I was surprised to learn the ghost’s house is still intact. It was a bed-and-breakfast in her time. Now it’s a museum run by a historical society. And not even a good one. It’s Purist controlled, meaning they give tours and lectures. No virtual sims of what life was like there in the past that would make the experience a million times better. Like I said, the Purists are a bunch of idiots.

I stand in front of the museum for a few moments. It’s three stories tall, with wide, white columns along the front porch. It looks good for being so old. I guess the Purists cared enough to keep it in pristine shape.

A stone path cuts around both sides of the house. I take the one on the left that follows a narrow driveway. A group of tourists are standing on the rear porch listening to a lecture given by a pudgy, balding man. I don’t understand how they’re staying awake.

My DataLink chimes. It’s Zed. What could he want already? I accept the comm and immediately know something is wrong. Zed’s face is pinched in worry.

“Dude, your mom knows,” he says in a rush. “She commed us and we told her you accidentally busted your DataLink. But she didn’t believe it when we said you had gone to set up some fishing lines.”

I close my eyes for a second and swear under my breath. “What did she do then?”

Zed takes a deep breath and then says, “It’s not good. She sent one of her space-bending buddies over to check on you.”

A dull ache starts to throb at back of my head. I can’t believe it. Why does she always have to ruin everything?

“Then she blabbed to our folks that we’re covering for you. They’re seriously pissed. We have to be back in New Denver within the hour.”

“Did you tell her where I went?”

Zed shakes his head. “We said you wouldn’t tell us. But what if she gets a Mind Bender to question us?”

I want to die. I haven’t experienced a mind probe, but I’ve heard it’s like someone sticking knives in your skull. I didn’t want something like this to happen. The only good thing is that I never told Zed and Elijah my target year.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. I start to speak again, but freeze when three Space Benders materialize by the woods behind the museum. They’re dressed in dark gray uniforms, meaning they’re military. My mouth goes dry. Why the hell would military get involved? Immediately they spot me and start running.

You’re supposed to find an isolated place to shift so you won’t appear in the same space as a person or object, but I don’t have time to do that. The Space Benders are pointing stunners in my direction. I’ve got to shift now.

Shaking, I close my eyes and repeat July 4, 2013. July 4, 2013. July 4, 2013. I hold my breath.

Then there’s nothing but the Void. No light, no sound, no air.

My lungs are going to burst.

I open my eyes to blackness.

I’ve never shifted this far back in time, much less without a Chronoband. I must have done something wrong. I’m going to die. I fight the urge to breathe.

Suddenly there’s bright sunlight and oxygen. I gasp and suck in a lungful of air. Smells swirl around me—freshly cut grass and something floral. And there’s a weird sound, like a mechanical sputtering, followed by the crunch of gravel. I look to my right. An old-style auto is a few feet away from me.

It’s heading in my direction.

14

BRIDGER

APRIL 10, 2013

B
rakes screech as I dive out of the auto’s way. Pain shoots through my left side as I slam into the ground.

The engine shuts off. Then I hear a woman screaming, “Oh my God!”

Footsteps thud around the truck. I look down. Holy fure, I’m still visible. This can’t be happening. I shrug off my portacase and roll on my back. A searing fire flares in my left knee. I hold still and wait for the pain to pass.

The ghost, a woman with curly light brown hair, kneels by me. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth. I have to get away from her before I contaminate the timeline. Talking to ghosts is forbidden.

“Are you sure?” She leans closer to peer at my face. “Do you think you broke anything?”

I shake my head no. I try to sit up, but the pain in my knee stops me. I lie back down and blow out a few puffs of air.

The woman searches through her pockets, muttering to herself.

Another voice calls out from somewhere behind the woman. “What happened?” It’s a soft voice with traces of fear in it.

The woman glances over her shoulder. “I need you to call 9-1-1.”

No way, I can’t let her involve more people. “Please don’t. I’m feeling better. I just need to rest for a minute.”

What I need to do is try to walk and assess the damage to my knee. If it’s not too bad, it will heal within a few hours. Thanks to all those genetic modifications the Purists hate so much. I start to sit up yet again, but I stop when I see who the woman was talking to. My mouth falls open. I must look as brainless as a Null, but I can’t help it.

It’s the ghost Dad wanted to save—Alora. And she looks so much like Vika that I can’t breathe.

“Are you sure you’re all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the woman says, her eyebrows knitted together.

You have no idea,
I want to say.

“I think you should see a doctor.”

“No, really, I’m fine,” I say, trying to ignore the cold clamminess of my skin. “Just let me walk it off.”

She bites her lip and stands. “I don’t know.”

“Aunt Grace, what happened?” Alora asks in a firmer tone.

The woman, Grace, looks at Alora. “I was backing up and almost ran over him. I swear I didn’t see him. It’s like he came out of nowhere.”

I let out a snort. Not so smart, but I can’t help it. She’s right and doesn’t even realize it.

“So do I need to call 9-1-1 or not?” Alora holds up her phone. I gape at it, fascinated. I couldn’t imagine having to carry around something like that. DataLinks are way more efficient.

“No,” I answer before Grace can. I extend my right hand in their direction. “Could one of you help me?” They stare at me like I’ve grown a third eye, so I add, “Please.”

Grace sighs and grasps my hand. My knee throbs as she pulls me into a standing position. I sway a bit but force myself to stay up. Getting on my feet is the best thing I can do. I turn away from Grace and Alora and take a tentative step. The pain is still sharp. I take a few more steps and stumble. I wish they weren’t watching me. I wish they couldn’t see me at all.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you need to get off your feet,” Grace says, now standing next to me. Her eyes flick to Alora. “Help me get him inside.”

“Really, that’s not necessary,” I say as Grace gently takes hold of my left arm. Alora picks up my portacase before grasping my other arm. My first impulse is to shake them off, but Grace is giving me a look that says she won’t take no for an answer.

Alora rolls her eyes and shakes her head. I stare at her, unable to look away. Her face is rounder, and her eyes are a lighter shade of blue, but the resemblance to Vika is unmistakable.

“You hush now,” Grace says to me. “I almost killed you, so the least you can let me do is look after you for a bit.”

The back porch stairs creak as we climb them. I hate to admit it, but I’m glad they’re helping. Hobbling up those few stairs makes my knee hurt even more.

They escort me to a room at the front of the house made to replicate something from the late nineteenth century. I groan in relief as Grace helps me stretch out my legs on the couch and orders me to lean forward. She places a pillow behind my back.