Twist (37 page)

“I took up residence in this time period permanently as a young man,” he said. “To care for my mother. With both my parents Shifters, I have no idea what my real synch point even is.”

If my family situation was jumbled, his was an entire novel written in anagrams.

“But if your dad's a Shifter,” I asked, “why couldn't he disable his chip and come back to take care of your mother as he grew older?”

“Chips aren't optional in the future, Bree,” he said. “That's why I can't or, at least, don't go to the future.”

“But you were chipped yourself,” I said. “Until John disabled it.”

“John injected me with the vaccine, but there was no chip for it to react to.”

“So why did you—?”

“I faked it.”

“Is that house even really your father's?” I asked. I knew it seemed too hip and modern for an old man.

“His house?” Granderson's brow furrowed. “How do you know about his house?”

I'd forgotten that Nurse Granderson hadn't reached that point on the timeline yet. I was dealing with the Granderson of … was it this morning? In his reality, Resthaven was still waiting for him on his return.

“Never mind,” I said.

“Bree, I know this all seems horrible.” He gestured back to the Cryostorage Room where the kidnapped Shifters would soon be brought there by him. “But there's no other way.”

“
Seems
horrible? You're pronouncing a death sentence to each and every Shifter you bring here!”

“If I didn't bring Shifters from the past, Dr. Lafferty said she'd start plucking us from Resthaven,” he said. “But I told you, no one's going to die. She promised they're not going to hurt any of the acquisitions.”

I let out a scoff. “And you believe her? Listen to you. Acquisitions? They're
people
! Fifty years from now, most of those bubbles will be full. You seriously think they won't just go take your mom for a hostage again when they need more? You heard them in there. They've already broken their word after you brought them your first ‘acquisition.'”

Almost on cue, I could hear the machine inside fire up.

“I'm going to choose my—” Granderson bit his lip, apparently unable to call them what they were … victims. “I'm going to choose the Shifters from the past carefully. Loners who are already dying or who are using their abilities for wrongful gain.”

“Oh, and who's going to judge which Shifters are using their abilities for the wrong reasons? You?” Forget what I had thought before about losing my rage. It was back full force. “Who are you to decide who ICE gets to study as their little lab rats?”

“Lab rats? Bree.” Granderson pinched his temples, and I suddenly realized how utterly worn down he looked. “They're not studying Shifters' tendrils. They're transplanting them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“How do you think those IcePicks work? Jenxa Lafferty changed her own timeline. She went back, stole her parents' research, and framed her brother. Her parents were studying Shifters' tendrils, yes. But not how to mimic them. They figured out how they could hyperstimulate them so they could
replace
them. Their work may have begun as a way to help other Shifters with hippocampal damage, but when they realized what it could be used for—to allow nonShifters to Shift—they abandoned it. Their daughter saw other uses for it, though.”

That was how Nurse Granderson had known so immediately what to do with Finn when he was crashing out. He knew exactly what they had done to Finn.

“Why should I believe you? You're as big a liar as she is,” I said as if that was his worst offense. “You're going to go and take Finn. And burn down the Mastersons' house, for blark's sake!”

I expected him to deny he would ever do such a thing, but when he remained silent, I realized the look on his face wasn't shock.

It was shame.

I flipped around to face the door. “No.”

“They were adamant that Finn be my first procurement,” said Granderson. “They told me that, after him, they don't care who I bring them. Bree, I'm sorry.”

Fifty years frozen. Fifty years of taking his memories. No wonder Finn had finally broken. “How could you?”

“She's my mother.”

“Yeah, I had one, too,” I said, “before she landed in prison for a crime she didn't commit.”

“I had nothing to do with that.” He reached out and touched my shoulder.

“Well, score one for your conscience.” I brushed his hand off like it was covered in filth. Blood, more like. “I can't believe you'd—”

I stopped. The faintest of blue lights flickered into the hallway, and the glow grew as the blue matter creeped through the exposed tubes above us. When that material reached the reservoirs in the other room …

“You're too late,” said Granderson. “They're about to have the inaugural NeoShift. Events were set into motion long before they ever took my mother. You can't change the future.”

“No,” I said as he gave me one final sad shake of his head and faded away. “You can't change the future.”

But I was damn sure going to change the past.

 

chapter 29

THE PORTHOLE
to the landing chamber at the end of the hall was already dug out of the wall. It was only after I was halfway through, feet first, that I realized there was no weightless gel on the other side, no sensation of swimming through silken sheets. Instead, my legs swayed precariously into plain air. I twisted myself around and panicked as my boots scrabbled for a foothold against the bare bedrock inside the tunnel while my hands clawed into the dirt of the hallway. I slid backward, downward, searching for anything solid to grasp.

Clang

My foot had hooked on something metal. I nudged my toe from side to side to make sure it was stable, then I inched the rest of my body through the hole. I shone my flashlight up, then down. I was standing on a thin ladder that ran along the edge of what would someday be their transportation tube path. Tiny emergency lights lit the edges of the ladder. They disappeared into the distance, both up and down.

I stuck my head out the hole for one more quick peek into the hallway. Finn's blue matter was already almost all the way down the hall. ICE was going to use Finn for their own personal Shifting fuel. Unless I stopped them.

My legs began to shake from the surge of adrenaline, climbing the ladder two rungs at a time. I emerged into an open area in the space that would be their lobby at some point. Right now, the only thing aboveground seemed to be a few offices in a humble building. The door to the exterior was glass with a simple etching on the door: “The Initiative for Chronogeological Equality.” I peeked down a long hall. At the end was a door marked
LAUNCH ROOM.
Noiselessly, I felt along the walls, looking for the hidden panel that led to the reservoir room. I was almost ready to give up and climb back in the tunnel when I hit a patch on the tile floor that was warmer than the surrounding area. I felt along the edges of the tile and dug my nails into a crevice to pry it up.

Then I climbed down another, shorter ladder. This was it. The reservoir room was deserted but otherwise unchanged in nearly half a century. The lights were dimmed, but I could see now why it couldn't have been built deep in the subterranean like the rest of their headquarters. The heat from the three reservoirs and the control panel was nearly unbearable. Coolant bars ribbed the walls, but there was no way they could have vented out all the sweltering air if they'd put this equipment much farther underground.

I walked over to the nearest reservoir. At the moment, it just looked like a big empty jar with a slot at the bottom where the scrubs would draw out the blue matter for the IcePicks. I pulled out the reverter to check and see if it would fit. It was a perfect match.

Fuel tanks. They were storing Shifters' tendrils as fuel.

I pocketed the reverter and went to examine the control panel. It looked like a standard transport panel, but out of date. Thinking back to our first year at the Institute, it seemed like there had been some defunct equipment like this that the transporters trained on, but I'd never given it much notice.

“Note to Past Bree,” I said. “Next time, pay closer attention to details in case you ever need to fix your boyfriend's brain.”

I wished Finn were here. He would have laughed.

My fingers began to tingle as if he were nearby, and I spun around. Had he regained consciousness and somehow Shifted here?

“Finn?”

No one.

I was alone. I had to do this without him.

But the tingles didn't stop. It was like a Shift that was building, but I ignored it. I couldn't leave. I had to stay here and figure this out. There were three reservoirs, plus the control panel. Perhaps I needed to smash them before the first NeoShift. Lafferty had said that two of the reservoirs were backup, so all three seemed to be identical. Unfortunately, there was only one of me. So much for that idea.

I looked up at the air duct overhead right as Finn's blue matter seeped in and split into three paths that inched across the ceiling. Blark. I didn't have much time left. I had to figure this out. It was like if I kept repeating that to myself, something would click.

Click
.

I yanked the reverter back out and clicked the end in.

Of course.

I still didn't know exactly how the reverter worked, how it restored the timeline, but it did. It must neutralize the blue matter from the IcePicks. What if it could do the same thing at the source?

But again, I was right back to the initial problem. Three reservoirs. Only one reverter.

And I still didn't see how it would restore Finn's memories back to him.

The tingling in my extremities had worked its way to my core. I rolled my neck side to side like I was kneading out some kinks. I wasn't going anywhere until I had a plan.

Focus, Bree. What was I supposed to do?

The blue matter continued its death march across the sloped ceiling. My hope diminished the farther the three trickles got from each other. Even if I did have three reverters, there was still only one me. It's not like I could be in more than one place at the same time.

Unless …

“It's not going to work,” said a voice behind me. I spun around.

Wyck.

But which one?

“How did you get in here?” I asked. The panel I'd snuck in through was still sealed.

“I'm on a Shift,” he said. “And I'm here to stop you from going through with your pointless plan.”

He had that demented expression that let me know whoever I was dealing with, it wasn't Present Wyck. Or even the Five-Days-Ago Wyck I'd just seen at the Institute. This was a Future Wyck from a timeline gone terribly wrong. This was the same guy who had attacked me at the Washington Memorial. This was Evil Wyck.

“You don't know that my plan is pointless,” I said. Heck, I didn't even know exactly what my plan was yet. But I needed to stall him and give myself time to think.

“Nah,” he said. “It's pointless. You're going to fail.”

“You don't know that.”

“Don't you see?” he said. “I
do
know that. You … are … going … to … fail. And I'm going to be the one to stop you. ICE already knows about this intrusion. That's why there are no red warning lights flashing, no sirens blaring. They don't need them. Look around you, Bree. They didn't even bother to dispatch a single security guard. They knew I'd be enough to stop you.”

“But—” Okay, now I was panicking.

“I'm the plinking hero of ICE. They're going to give me a personalized Pick. My own dedicated transporter. Free rein of a Launch Pad to come and go as I please.”

This was what Jenxa Lafferty had been talking about when she said that I had already broken into this room … and that they'd already stopped me. They were talking about sending Evil Wyck back to prevent me from carrying out my plan.

“Is Jafney in on this?”

“Don't talk about Jaf,” he said, his tone biting.

Hmm. Zapped a nerve there.

“Why not?” I asked. “She used Finn to get what she wants. You don't think she'd use you, too?”

“Don't you dare—” He grimaced in pain. When he unscrewed his face, it had softened. “She doesn't know about any of this. She'll just think I got a promotion for hard work.”

“Well, she got one thing right. You're going to have a hard time stopping me.” I mentally traced how I could get past him. I might not be able to reach all of the reservoirs, but maybe disrupting one would be enough to cause a chain reaction or something. At least enough to keep Finn stable. I could probably reach the nearest one.

“Actually, no,” he said, back to smirking. “It's going to be easy. The tendrils will reach that point”—he gestured to a spot halfway up the wall—“when you'll make a move for that reservoir”—he motioned to the one I had planned on disrupting—“and I'll sweep your legs out from under you. You'll break a rib and puncture your lung. But don't worry. ICE will patch you right up.

“You're the one who's always spouting the Doctrine of Inevitability. It's going to happen. The inaugural Neo is going to Shift in”—he flipped open his QuantCom—“seven minutes.”

Seven minutes to figure out how to save Finn's blue matter or memories or hyperactivated tendrils or whatever they wanted to call it. Seven minutes to find some way to transplant them back into him. It occurred to me that these were the last seven minutes of the real timeline. The last seven minutes of Truth. After this, ICE's messy vine of branched timelines would begin.

He lunged at me. I dodged to the left but caught my foot on the console and it knocked me off-kilter. I tumbled to the corner but hopped up before Wyck could get ahold of me. We both yanked out our Coms and dialed them up. Wyck and I had been sparring partners for years at the Institute. Even if we weren't friends on this particular branch of the timeline, I knew his every move. I could only assume he had some muscle-memory of mine.