Survivor (Rewinder Series Book 3)

by Brett Battles

  As I head toward the center of the room, I’m surprised my steps are almost silent. There must be some kind of sound-deadening material in the floor.

  “That’s far enough,” Dumont tells me when I’m five feet from the stand.

  Langer enters through the same door the professor used, carrying the box containing my chaser. When she reaches Dumont, she opens it and the professor removes the device.

  I lean forward, like a shard of iron toward a magnet. I long to wrap my hands around the box, but the ache in my arm is more than enough to remind me I can’t act rashly, and must wait until there’s at least a small chance of success.

  Langer carries the now empty container out of the room and reenters a moment later, her hands empty. She shuts the door and locks it. She does the same to the door I used before she returns to the pedestal.

  “You may join us now,” Dumont says to me.

  I can barely breathe as I find myself only inches from the chaser for the first time since Lidia and I arrived in this world over a year ago.

  “Today, I’d like to do a few tests,” Dumont says. “According to you, the machine is currently bonded to me and no one else.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “I hope you don’t mind that I would like to make sure that’s true.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. Min has tried to open it but can’t. I’ve also tested it with a few other people and achieved the same result. But I would like to make sure it doesn’t work for you.”

  “You said it yourself. If it did, I’d be gone already.”

  “Humor me.”

  I place the pad of my thumb against the reader on the side of the box, and try not to think about the fact I’m touching the chaser.

  Nothing happens.

  Dumont smiles. “Now we know you weren’t lying. But does that also mean you can’t make it jump?”

  “Why would I be unable to open it, yet still be able to work the controls?”

  “I’m a scientist. I require proof.”

  I assume she’s going to open the device, but instead she slips an arm through the crook of my left arm while Langer does the same through my right, which, due to my persuader, causes me to grimace in pain. Once they have a secure hold on me, Dumont cradles the box in her other arm and releases the lid. She has clearly listened to my stories about trips with multiple people. If, for some reason, the box does work for me, she and Langer will go wherever I go.

  On the display screen, Dumont has entered a jump that will take us back exactly fifty years. The destination, of course, is the same as our current location.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Dumont says.

  I press the go button, and nothing happens. “As I said, it only works for whoever it’s keyed to.”

  “And that would be me.” Dumont taps the button herself.

  Though I have jumped more times than I can remember, the last trip was the one I took with Lidia, so it’s a shock to be surrounded by the gray mist again. It’s like a memory of something I’ve forgotten, something wonderful. I’m just beginning to bask in its comforting presence when it fades and we materialize in bright sunlight.

  Despite the dull throb in my head, my training kicks in and I drop toward the ground. I’m held up, though, because my arms are still linked to the others’.

  “What are you doing?” Dumont asks.

  We are in a clearing surrounded by trees. There’s no one but us around.

  “Oh, right. Your safety precautions.”

  I nod. I’ve told her about the rule of arriving in the wee hours of the morning, when the possibility of being seen by someone is remote. It’s unnerving to do otherwise.

  “Relax,” she says. “The closest person is days away.”

  She can’t know that for sure, but it seems safe to assume there’s no one close by and leave it at that. Langer seems to be suffering more from the trip than Dumont and I am. While she still has a hold of my arm, she is cringing and rubbing her forehead with her free hand.

  Dumont doesn’t seem to notice. She’s staring across the meadow but I don’t think she’s looking at the trees. “You asked me the other day how I knew your chaser was a time machine.”

  I did indeed, but she ignored me like she often does.

  “The truth is,” Dumont goes on, “we had no idea what your device actually did, only that it had a screen for inputting dates. After Min developed a chart that translated your dating system into ours, I entered the date when you and your dead companion were found, thinking it might bring up information that would reveal where you were from, and I pushed the button. I bet you can imagine how surprised I was when the room vanished and then reappeared, looking different.

  “I went in search of Min, but the people I passed in the hallway kept giving me odd looks. I headed for the infirmary, thinking maybe the device had somehow injected me with something. On the way, I ran into a researcher I know. He was shocked to see me. Said he had no idea I had come down. I told him to stop playing around, that I’d just seen him yesterday, but it soon became clear that he wasn’t joking. I made my excuses and went outside, thinking some fresh air would help.

  “The moment I stepped through the exit, I was shocked by how hot it was. Not an hour before, it had been a rainy, cool day with a forecast of more of the same. Back inside, the board where schedules and announcements are posted caught my eye. All the dates were for events that took place right around the same time as the one I’d entered on your device.”

  A quiet laugh. “The history book you were translating for us couldn’t help but make me consider the possibility you’d traveled in time. But the truth is, I could never really believe it. As I looked at those notices, though, and I thought about the suddenly hot day and the colleague who was shocked to see me, I began to think that maybe you actually had. I hurried back to the room I’d arrived in and entered the date for the present. Just like that, I was back where I should be, on a day that was still rainy and cool.

  “The only proof I had, though, that I’d traveled in time was my memories. I needed more than that, so I came up with a simple idea that would answer the question once and for all. Here, I can show you.”

  She unlaces her arm from mine and walks across the field. Langer, still wincing, pulls me after the professor. We stop near a rock at the far edge of the clearing, where Dumont digs.

  About two feet down, she uncovers a flat, metallic surface. She widens the hole and pulls out a container not too unlike the ones she keeps the chaser and the history book in. She releases the latches and lifts the top panel. Inside are several buttons and a glass display screen, all dormant, and all, I am sure, far advanced for this moment in history. She touches three of the buttons, and after several seconds, the screen comes on.

  A flickering line of blue runs an inch or so down the left side of the screen, indicating the machine has experienced some wear and tear. Displayed on the screen are two strings of numbers, one stacked above the other. Digits at the far right of the upper string are constantly changing, the farthest right number moving the fastest. The bottom string is constant.

  “It’s probably hard for you to decipher, but what the readout means is that this timer has been running for fifty years, nine days, fourteen hours, thirty-seven minutes, and twelve seconds.”

  A simple idea, all right. And smart. She traveled one hundred years into the past and buried a timer. She could have just gone a year, or even ten, but for whatever reason she chose a hundred. The moment she hopped back to the present, she likely walked out into the rain forest and dug the box up.

  A near instantaneous way to confirm she has indeed time traveled.

  She reburies the box, then stands. “Min, can you hold this for me?”

  Langer walks over and takes the chaser.

  “I know you have been reluctant to tell me how to make the machine travel to other places,” the professor says to me. “In your place I would be reluctant, too. And to be honest, I’m
not sure the persuader would provide enough motivation for me to share everything I know.”

  “It’s more than enough for me,” I say, nervous. “You know I haven’t been holding back.”

  She scrutinizes me. “Do I?” She points past me. “You see that mound over there?”

  I turn and look. There’s a barely noticeable rise in the land just inside the trees to the north. I twist back around. “What about it?”

  “That’s where you’ll want to go.”

  “What’s over—”

  Before I finish my question, she wraps an arm around Langer and pushes the chaser’s go button. In an instant, they’re gone.

  As ridiculous as I know it is, I race forward and swing my arms through the air where they were, yelling, “No! No! No!”

  But there is nothing I can do to bring them back. For the first time since I was recruited by the Upjohn Institute—in reality, since well before that, though I didn’t know it then—I’m in a world and time where no chaser exists. I’m trapped with no way of returning to the future unless Dumont comes back.

  I turn around and around, unable to breathe, having no idea what I should do. Then I notice the disturbed earth covering Dumont’s timer. In a fit of anger, I push the dirt away and pull the box out. It’s heavier than I expected, but not so heavy that I can’t lift it above my head.

  I look for the perfect spot to smash it against the ground, but at the last moment I come to my senses. If I destroy the timer, she will know it, and maybe she’ll take it as a sign to never return. Fighting my inner demon, I put the timer back into the hole. Before I bury it again, however, I find a stone and scratch into the top plate, I WILL SHOW YOU EVERYTHING, underlining the last word several times.

  When I’m done, I look for shelter. I’m hoping my stay won’t be long but I don’t want to be caught unprepared. When I spot the small rise Dumont pointed out, I wonder what she wanted me to see.

  I jog over, hoping there’s a cave on the other side, or perhaps even a hut. What I find instead is Jovan, bound and gagged and lying on the ground, surrounded by several bags.

  I untie him. “Are you all right?”

  He sits up, cradling his right arm. “No, I’m not all right! One minute they force me into that surgery room, and the next I wake up here all tied up and my arm screaming in pain. I’m not all right at all!”

  Now I know what Dumont was doing in those twenty minutes she made me wait before we left.

  I open one of the bags and find water and some food. There’s far more than I want to see, but I try not to think about what that means and hold out a bottle of water to Jovan. “Here. This will help.”

  As he drinks, I open the other bags and find a portable canopy, a couple of sleeping mats, matches, lamps, and a few other camping items. Any thoughts I had that we’ll be here only an hour or two have disappeared.

  Calmer now, Jovan says, “Where the hell are we?”

  “That’s not an easy answer.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” I pause. Since we’ve known each other, we have been dancing around the truth about who I am and how I got here. I guess now is as good a time as any to tell him the truth, albeit leaving out the part about my plan to erase his world. “All right, but you’re going to need to keep an open mind.”

  __________

  THOUGH MUCH OF what I want to tell Jovan, I’ve already said to Dumont, there are things I’d like to share that I absolutely don’t want the professor to know. So, on the assumption she’s planted audio bugs among our things, I use Jovan’s and my old sign language to suggest we first check our clothes and move far from the equipment.

  We find a good spot, build a campfire, and I begin.

  Though Jovan asks many questions, he’s more accepting of my story than I have any right to expect. Of course, he’s witnessed Dumont disappearing in front of us and seen much of the history book. He’s also known me for a while now and is well aware of how different I am.

  By the time I finish my tale, night has fallen and our fire has burned to embers.

  “Show me the timer,” he says.

  Using a bundle of dried branches as a makeshift torch, we trek across the meadow. The dirt covering the container is so loose now, it takes me less than a minute to dig it out. I pull off the top and touch the three buttons in the same order Dumont did. The display screen flickers to life.

  Jovan examines it for a moment before picking the lid off the ground from where I set it. He wipes a finger across the surface and holds it in the light.

  “You wrote this?” he says, referring to the message I scratched on the metal.

  “Yes.”

  “Then why hasn’t she come back? If she’s in the future, she should have read it already, right? She could have come back for us right after she left you here. Shouldn’t that be the way it works?”

  “She could have, yes. But I have a feeling she thinks a little time out here will strengthen my willingness to cooperate.”

  “How long is a little time?” he says, annoyed.

  “There’s a week’s worth of food, so unless she’s thinking we’re going to live off the land, I figure she’ll be back before we run out.”

  After the container is closed and the hole filled in for the third time, we return to camp, where Jovan stretches out on his mat and closes his eyes. I do the same, but I’m sure it will be impossible for me to sleep. When I open my eyes again, however, the sun is about to peek over the horizon.

  I soon become aware of the sound of crackling grease and the smell of cooking meat. I sit up and see Jovan has rekindled the fire and is frying up some sausages.

  “Good morning,” I say.

  “Morning.”

  We eat in silence, and when we’re done, Jovan takes all the pots and plates over to the equipment bags. I think he’s about to clean them, but he comes back for the mats and blankets and takes them away, too.

  When he returns, it’s just the two of us in the clothes we’ve been wearing.

  “Do you have a plan to get your chaser back?” he asks.

  “Only to get as close to it as I can, so when the opportunity presents itself I can grab it.”

  “And what will you do after you have the chaser and make it work for you again?”

  “Get away from here.”

  “Your home?”

  I hesitate. “Not directly.”

  With a forlorn smile, he says, “The woman you came with. Lidia? She…changed things. You need to repair that.”

  I nod.

  “What happens to here when you do that?”

  His eyes show no need for me to answer. I’ve given him too many pieces of the puzzle and he’s put the truth together himself. As I’ve always known, Jovan is not a stupid man.

  “Are you going to try to stop me?” I ask.

  “Stop you?” He laughs. “I’m going with you.”

  My brow furrows. “I’m sorry?”

  “There’s nothing for me here. And if all you said is true, this hellhole should not exist.” He looks across the meadow. “You will take me with you. I want to see somewhere else. I want to know what it’s like to really be free.”

  Bringing Jovan with me has never crossed my mind. When I get the chaser, I’ll need to move fast to prevent Dumont from stopping me. But I owe this man my life. The least I can do is give him his.

  “When I go, you go.”

  __________

  DUMONT DOES NOT return for four days. This turns out to be a blessing, as it gives Jovan and me more than enough time to discuss multiple ways to steal the chaser and get away, some that even involve not getting killed. The wait also presents me with the opportunity to make other preparations, including slipping into my shoe a small section of stiff wire I removed from one of the lanterns. I hope I get the chance to use it.

  When Dumont does finally show up, Jovan and I immediately stand and bow our heads. This is step one of the plan.

  She’s not carrying the chaser, so I
assume Langer is nearby with the device. “I received your message,” Dumont says. “Can I assume you mean it?”

  “Absolutely,” I say. “I’ll show you everything you need to know.”

  “Good.” She turns and walks back the way she came. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE TASK OF working out locations in this world would be harder if I didn’t already have experience doing the same kind of thing after finding myself in Iffy’s world. The chaser’s maps display the world of my original timeline. And while the continents and islands are in all the right places, the cities and towns and political borders often differ.

  Admittedly, translating them to work in Iffy’s world was a little easier than doing so here. There, the historical change happened only two hundred forty years in the past, so some of the political borders and most of the older cities were the same. The timeline split that brought about Jovan’s world was more than three times farther back, meaning very few things align. What I must do is estimate where Dumont wants to go by comparing a map of her world with the one on the chaser, which, as I tell her several times, may necessitate adjustments on arrival.

  We start small, taking short hops to locations within the facility itself. Once again, Dumont brings Langer and me with her. Thankfully, the professor is heeding my advice about arriving well after midnight, and we avoid giving any unsuspecting personnel a heart attack.

  Pleased with the results, Dumont expands the parameters of our jumps. We return to Saint Jakup several times, and visit other cities in North America, Europe, and Asia. I show her the method of investigating an area on the initial jump to find a spot where we can arrive during the day without drawing attention. I demonstrate how the machine can automatically determine a specific location’s number that we can then use to hop there.

  I am nothing but helpful.

  These trips are interesting and educational for her and nearly as enlightening for me. Having been born a citizen of a stagnating British empire, I have experienced a badly run world. From what I’ve now seen, this one is worse. The fractionalization I observed in Saint Jakup extends to everywhere we go. I can’t imagine what it must be like to live in the constant state of potentially deadly flux most people here endure.