Vortex (2 page)

It was obvious he’d already planned to let me join. He probably knew I’d ask, somehow.
Walking me in circles beforehand must have been part of his mental game.

“Don’t call me son.” The words snapped out of my mouth before I could stop them. Marshall
only narrowed his eyes at me, but said nothing. “Yes, I understand. Don’t tell anyone
about my superpowers … don’t use my superpowers … and most importantly, don’t tell
anyone I came from a clone.”

Marshall stared at something on his BlackBerry. “So, you’re willing to give everything
up … the freedom we’ve given you on the government’s dollar? According to Agent Stewart,
you have a fund-raiser to attend tomorrow night, and the following night, a party
at Caleb’s house. Sounds like good times.”

“I’m ready to get the hell out of New York, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Marshall’s lips formed a devious grin that made my stomach do flip-flops. “Great,
plane leaves at six tomorrow morning for our next training location.”

“Where—” I started to ask, but Marshall held up his hand to stop me.

“Need-to-know basis, kid. Get used to it. And don’t expect me or Agent Freeman to
treat you any different from the other recruits.”

“Agent Freeman?” The man who’d followed me and Courtney to school every day in seventh
grade. In the timeline I had just left, he knew about me being able to time-travel.
“Are you … going to tell him anything? About me?”

“No,” Dad and Marshall said together. Marshall strode out of the room, and the second
the front door shut, Dr. Melvin’s face changed to that of the sympathetic old man
I had known my whole life.

“Let me have a look at that shoulder,” he said, already pulling the sling over my
head. “You’ll have to be careful with it for another couple days.”

I looked over at Dad. “Do you know where I’m going in the morning?”

He attempted a smile. “You mean where
we’re
going … and I do know. The desert.”

“Like Arizona?” I asked.

“Like the Middle East.”

The Middle East? The confidence that had come out in my exchange with Chief Marshall
slowly deflated as I realized that I truly had no idea what I was getting myself into.

MARCH 16, 2009, 6:00
A.M.

“Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Dad, Marshall, Freeman, and I stood on one of the runways at JFK, staring at a very
fancy private government plane. One I had flown in many times, thinking it was Dad’s
CEO jet.

“Jackson will be joining our squad for the next several weeks,” Marshall said.

Freeman stared blankly at him. “What? Is this some kind of school assignment?”

Marshall’s smirk was directed at me, as if saying he knew no one would take me seriously.
“I’ll rephrase my answer. Agent Jackson Meyer will be joining the Tempest Division
for training. In fact, I’m assigning him to your group: Advanced Defense. Give him
the same tough love you give to the other recruits.”

Freeman looked at me. “This is a joke, right?”

Dad clapped him on the back. “Nope. He’s all yours. Kind of tradition, don’t you think?
Your father trained me, I trained you … and now you’ll train my kid.”

Dad and Marshall boarded the plane, leaving me outside with a bewildered Agent Freeman.
He finally shook his head and turned to me, speaking low and under his breath. “I’m
not sure what stunt Marshall is pulling here, but don’t worry … I’ll make sure you’re
okay.”

“Uh … thanks,” I said, not knowing how else to respond.

When I stepped onto the plane, I quickly counted heads and came up with eleven unfamiliar
faces. All young. Very young. Probably my age or a year or two older. My eyes stopped
on Jenni Stewart, waiting for her reaction. How would she differ from the girl who
had bailed me out of jail and posed as Dad’s secretary in 2007?

Her head snapped around, searching two rows back for Dad like she wasn’t sure what
role she was about to play. Perhaps secretary? Or something totally new.

Marshall stood behind me, letting a murmur of gossip fill the cabin before speaking.
“Many of you know of Agent Meyer’s son, Jackson … he’ll be joining your group for
the next expedition. You are to treat him as one of your teammates.”

“Wait,” a broad-shouldered dude from the back row said. “He’s the French poetry major,
right?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be babysitting little brats or something?” another guy said.

There was a twitter of nervous laughter. I kept my eyes on Jenni Stewart, knowing
she’d been fine with helping me learn some stuff in 2007. Her eyes were wide and confused,
darting from Marshall to Dad to Freeman, but she said nothing and I could practically
hear the theories racing through her mind. Next to her sat a skinny freckle-faced
kid who had to be even younger than me.

I slid into the seat in front of them and stuck my hand out to the kid next to Jenni
Stewart. “I’m Jackson.”

“I know who you are … we all do.” He didn’t shake my hand. Instead, he turned his
eyes to the book in his lap. “Mason … Mason Sterling.”

Jenni Stewart rolled her eyes and elbowed Mason in the side. “This should be a blast …
Junior playing secret agent. He must have thrown a mighty big tantrum to get his way
onto this flight.”

“Yep,” Mason said under his breath.

I sighed and turned around in my seat, slumping low enough so no one could start throwing
stuff at my head.
Fine
. If this was how it had to be, I’d prove my way into this group. Whatever it took.
No more wearing my heart on my sleeve. I needed a hard shell, one that kept me from
thinking about Holly and wishing I could talk to Adam or half-jump to visit my twin
sister Courtney again.

This is my life now
.

As the plane took off, I stared out the window and promised myself to stay focused.
To do whatever I had to so I could be good at this job. Then I’d learn about the Enemies
of Time … find out what the hell happened to create that future that little Emily
had shown me and why the hell she looked so much like Courtney. And I could do all
of it without the risks that came with time travel. That was what had gotten me into
trouble in the first place.

“Sorry about that,” Dad said, taking the seat beside me. “This is a very tight-knit
group and we’ve taught them to be suspicious of everything.”

I glanced at him. “I get it … I need to earn my spot … earn their respect. I’ve played
this game before.”
Yeah, winning over 007 Holly,
I couldn’t help thinking.

Dad must have read my mind. “Are you worried … about…?”
Holly
. He didn’t say it, but I guessed.

“I trust you.” My eyes locked with his for a few seconds so he’d know I meant it.
It was about the only thing I knew for sure. I turned my eyes back to the window.
“I just don’t trust myself, but I’m trying.”

She’ll be okay … she’ll be happy
. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift to Holly, only without me. I smiled to myself.
Her life will be perfect. Just perfect.

I could survive for a long time just knowing that.

Mason kicked the back of my seat, jerking me out of my daydream. “What happened to
your arm, dude?”

I kept my eyes straight ahead, not turning around to look at either of them behind
me, but I spoke loud enough for both Jenni Stewart and Mason to hear. “Gunshot wound.”

“Cool,” Mason said, then he practically yelled, “Ow! Damn, Stewart!”

Dad laughed under his breath and I shrugged my good shoulder, hiding my own grin.
At least I had made a good first impression with one person. One down … a bunch more
to go.

TEMPEST AGENT TRAINING DIARY

MARCH 17, 2009

LOCATION: UNKNOWN. SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE EAST

Adam,

I’m still keeping this journal for you even though I’ll probably never give it to
you. It’s better if I don’t, but sometimes life doesn’t go how I want it to, and if
I’ve learned anything from you, it’s to be prepared for the worst. I’m keeping it
safe in a lockbox given to me by Dr. Melvin that only opens with my fingerprints.

The desert sucks. Hot as hell during the day, cold at night.

Sharing a tent with a 17-year-old whose own journal contains photos and background
reports on every single girl I have ever dated. Apparently this was one of Mason’s
first training assignments. I can’t picture myself with any of them now. It’s like
a different person lived that part of my life and all I can think about is she-who-must-not-be-named.

Oh, and everyone calls Mason Sterling … Mason. Even Dad and Freeman. Which is really
weird. Maybe it’s because he’s so young and Agent Sterling sounds like a middle-aged
man on steroids?

Learned the Tempest mission statement today, though I doubt they have a brochure to
advertise this on: “Tempest is devoted to protecting the world from the alterations
of our past, present, and future through unnatural or unethical methods. When dealing
with technological advancements, Tempest is also looking out for the best interest
of not only the American people, but the human race.”

MARCH 20, 2009

LOCATION: DESERT. STILL

Jenni Stewart! Yeah. Not my favorite person. And yeah, she’s the only girl here and
that must be hard on her, but that’s no excuse to spend every waking moment making
my life miserable. Why not Agent Parker? Or Miller? Not that I know either of them
very well yet, but both of them are way more chauvinistic than me. Not to mention
shamelessly staring at her ass all the time, which I do NOT do. I think what I hate
most about her is that I have no idea who she is. Every single day she tries a new
cover … Ghetto girl from Harlem, or Little Miss Southern Sunshine … and then there’s
the foreign covers … she’s done them all. I know Foreign Affairs is her specialty
in Tempest, but can’t she at least be real for five minutes?

Learned proper gun mechanics today despite my still very sore shoulder. Agent Freeman
says I’m a natural shooter. Remember, he’s the dude that followed the 13-year-old
me and Courtney to school every day. Anyway, I was really nervous at first. My previous
experiences with guns involve watching Holly get shot and then me killing Raymond,
the red-haired EOT (Enemy of Time), in a half-jump when I visited my two-year-old
self in 1992. After I got back to home base in 2009, I kept seeing the blood on my
hands even though it wasn’t there. But here it’s just targets or cardboard cutouts.
I can deal with that.

Tomorrow’s target-shooting test is my first chance to actually be good at something.
Agent Stewart, be prepared to get your ass kicked by the new kid.

MARCH 22, 2009

LOCATION: DESERT

Now that I’ve had a week to acquire data and experience, I have a good idea of what
a typical training day looks like:

5:00–6:30
A.M.
—PT (5–10 mile run plus additional physical torture from Freeman or Dad).

6:30–7:30
A.M.
—Shower (only 6 portable shower stalls so it’s motivation to finish PT first) and
breakfast.

7:30–12:30
P.M.
—Specialty training. For me and 3 others this means weapons, hand-to-hand combat (more
exercise!), and lots of target shooting, both close-range and from a scout location.

12:30–1:30
P.M.
—Lunch (either MREs, PB&J, or we boil hot dogs and beans over a fire, but no one usually
wants to make a fire or be out in the sun midday).

1:30–3:00
P.M.
—Foreign language study (I do mine with Dad and sometimes Dr. Melvin, not sure what
anyone else does).

3:00–6:00
P.M.
—Covert operations, some specialize in this but we all have to learn how to tail a
suspect, know you’re being tailed, plant listening devices, search for devices, recognize
explosives … stuff like that.

6:00–7:00
P.M.
—Dinner, usually cooked outside, and we do have Marshall or Dad taking the helicopter
into cities and bringing back fresh produce and stuff that isn’t made to survive a
nuclear bombing. This is probably the high point of the day.

7:00–10:00
P.M.
—This varies. We’ve done role-playing, practicing different covers, we’ve studied
for exams on geography and history. It’s been different every day.

10:00
P.M.
—We’re supposed to sleep at this time, but I’ve noticed that pretty much everyone
pulls out books and computers to study past Tempest data and prepare for … well …
everything.

MARCH 25, 2009

LOCATION: DESERT

EOT facts: 12 different time travelers have been sighted, dating back to 1983. Memorized
all of their photos and basic info today.

EOTs I’ve encountered:

Thomas (hasn’t been seen since 2005, apparently this timeline’s data doesn’t include
my adventures in the 2007 alternate universe or the previous 2009 I left before coming
here. More on that later)

Raymond (dead. Shoe-print guy)

Cassidy (biological mother)

Rena (dead. Blond chick from hotel rooftop)

Jacob (just learned his name. Helped crash that wedding in Martha’s Vineyard)

Edward (also just learned his name. The dude that showed up when the storm hit on
the boat with Holly, Dad, and Adam)

Harold (dead. Dad shot him in the 2007 timeline. Apparently he’s a clone made by Dr.
Ludwig)

Based on bloodwork drawn from the EOTs Tempest has been able to capture at one point
or another, some show strong evidence of the Tempus gene and some have it hidden in
their blood, harder or almost impossible to locate. Mine is hidden. Dr. Melvin suspects
they each have different years of origin and therefore are either further or not as
far along in the evolution process. Not the monkeys-turning-to-humans evolution, the
kind where normal people turn to time travelers. So, does it eventually become harder
to detect the Tempus gene in blood or did it start that way?