by Jaxon Reed
After several minutes, Cait said, “I do not sense his presence.”
Nancy nodded, holding her right shoulder, stemming the blood with her left hand. She said, “You camouflaged the area? Nobody saw that, right?”
“Indeed. Nobody is present. Even if they were, the area is secure from detection.”
“Good. Bring me some Tree of Life and I’ll heal up.”
A moment later, a shimmering neon blue line appeared beside her, quickly lengthening and widening into a doorway. Through it, Nancy could see wisteria in the Wildflower Room.
Just as she got a whiff of the flowers’ scent, Cait’s human interface handed her a glass of swirly green liquid, her hand passing it through the doorway. Nancy gulped down the concoction, and handed the glass back.
From the other side, Cait said, “You were fortunate he only grazed your shoulder. How did you know which way to move? I did not have time to inform you of the danger.”
“Instinct. Sixth sense or something. I haven’t been battling these guys as long as you and Jason have, or even as long as Tiff has, but I’ve fought them enough to expect the unexpected. When he disappeared the first time, I just naturally presumed he’d show up behind me slinging light.”
Cait nodded, and Nancy suspected she stored the nugget of info away somewhere. The Computerized Artificial Intelligence Terminal never stopped learning. And with humans, Nancy thought to herself, there is a lot to learn.
“What’s the deal with there being more than one of him? What was that all about?”
“It appears he is using a cloning spell.”
“Oh. That makes sense, I guess. Well, thanks for the drink. Nothing like a quick shot of the leaves from a Tree of Life to fix things up.”
“You need a few hours sleep to completely recover.”
They both looked down at her shoulder, which had completely healed itself. Cait mended the fabric with a wave of her hand, and Nancy’s blouse looked new again. Then Cait stepped out of the doorway. She cleaned up all the blood on the ground with a wave of her hand, and even rearranged the grass and leaves.
Cait said, “I am still not tracking the fae. Now that he is aware of your presence, he has cloaked himself in a spell. But at some point he will almost certainly do something that will trigger my sensors, and I will alert you to his presence.”
Nancy nodded and said, “It’s funny he didn’t use a stasis spell to stop the projectiles. I guess he doesn’t know about it yet.”
“That is correct. On his personal timeline, he has evidently not received information from the fae known as Sleaghan, who developed the stasis spell.”
“Well, that’s to our advantage. But I still wasn’t able to stop him.”
Cait said nothing.
After a moment Nancy said, “At this point, you’re supposed to give me a word of encouragement.”
“I understand. I am certain you will eventually apprehend the fae known as Felix, and avert the Allied loss in World War II on this alternate, thus preventing your home world from prematurely sliding into chaos.”
“Thanks. Awkward, but I’ll take it. I’ll make a human out of you yet, Cait.”
“You are welcome. But it is quite impossible for me to ever become a human.”
“Right. But you can at least act like one.”
“I am programmed to—”
“Yeah, yeah. Look, I’m going to head to my apartment. Keep an eye on things and let me know if the police show up or anything. And keep an eye on the old German. I’ll visit him after I get some sleep.”
Cait nodded, and stepped back inside the Wildflower Room. The doorway disappeared, quickly replaced with another one opening to a darker room.
Nancy smiled as the familiar smells from her old apartment came drifting through. She stepped in, leaving Central Park behind.
Her apartment was small, just a few hundred square feet. A sink and hot plate occupied the counter along one wall. A simple window looking out on the street took up another. The third wall hid a Murphy bed.
Nancy heard a mew, and looked down at a black cat with white feet.
“Hello, Socks. Have you been a good boy?”
She bent and picked up the cat, who started to purr.
“You haven’t had anything to eat since I left this morning, have you?”
She walked over to the kitchen side, opened a cabinet and pulled out some cat food. She filled up a bowl and poured fresh water from the sink in another one.
The cat’s needs taken care of, Nancy walked over to her Murphy bed, pulled it down and climbed in. She fell asleep immediately.
“Wake up, Nancy.”
Her eyes fluttered open. Sunlight streamed in through the window blinds.
She sat up and said, “What is it, Cait?”
“Marcie is here with the police. They will enter in three minutes.”
Nancy nodded, and folded the bed back into the wall. She bent down and stroked Socks’s back, then headed for a corner of the room where she turned invisible. Socks sat on his haunches and watched the corner she hid in.
“Go away, Socks. Don’t give me away.”
A moment later, the key turned in the latch, and her apartment door opened. The landlord looked in first, an older fellow with a receding hairline. He opened the door wide and stepped out of the way. Two uniformed police officers walked in, followed by Marcie.
The landlord followed them, crowding the small space. He said, “Ms. Chance kept to herself, pretty much. Never heard or saw her very often. Paid her rent on time every month, and she never was no trouble.”
One of the officers turned to Marcie and said, “Any next of kin to claim her belongings?”
Marcie stood shorter than the men, at about five-two. She sported short brown hair and wore a simple gray business dress with a matching hat. In her 40s, Marcie had grown up in the flapper era, and she still preferred shorter hair.
She shook her head. From her vantage point in the corner of the room, Nancy could tell she had been crying.
Marcie said, “No, both her parents are dead. She was a single child. There’s an uncle out in Colorado, and an aunt in Delaware she talked about from time to time, but nobody around here. I don’t think she’s seen anybody related to her in quite some time.”
Socks meowed and rubbed against Marcie’s leg. Marcie picked him up and said, “Poor Socks. Nobody’s been here to feed you, have they?”
One of the officers pointed to the cat’s bowl and said, “Looks like it has plenty of food.”
The other officer poked through some cabinets, then pulled down the Murphy bed. The sheets were still rumpled. He said, “I guess you don’t really have to make up the bed when you can fold it away.”
After a while, finding nothing to help in their investigation, they left. The landlord looked at Marcie, standing there with dried tears and still holding Socks.
He said, “She wasn’t supposed to have a pet, but lots of people ignore that rule. You should take the cat.”
Marcie nodded, and looked around the apartment one more time. Then she followed him out, carrying Socks. The landlord locked the place up behind them.
Nancy became visible again. The apartment suddenly felt very lonely, especially without Socks.
She said, “Cait, do you know where Kurtz is?”
“Yes. At the moment he is in New Jersey preparing an explosive device.”
“An explosive device? You mean a bomb? Do I have time to stop it?”
“Yes to all three questions. I will open a door.”
A thin blue and green line appeared, growing taller and wider. Nancy stepped through, instantly going from her apartment to New Jersey.
Chapter 3
Nancy stepped into a back alley. A gust of wind blew through the narrow space, scattering scraps of paper along the concrete and high up against drab brick walls.
She walked to where the alley emptied into a wider street, and cautiously peeked around the corner. To her left, a line of people waited pat
iently at a gate near a fence around some kind of complex. Thick chain links topped with razor wire stretched away to either side.
Men and women alike wore identical blue coveralls. Many in the queue carried tin lunch buckets.
Cait said, “Kurtz is disguised as one of the workers. His lunchbox has four sticks of dynamite and a considerable length of fuse.”
“I see him. Okay, dress me appropriately and I’ll intercept him.”
Instantly Nancy’s clothes changed. She wore blue coveralls identical to the workers. Her right hand held a black lunchbox made of iron, she noted. She suspected it was heavier than the tin boxes others carried, but it would likely not raise suspicion.
She walked out of the alley and fell into line with everyone else. Cait provided her an identification card, making it appear in her pocket. She pulled it out and showed it to the guard at the gate, who nodded at her as she walked in with the crowd of workers.
She spoke in her mind so no one else could hear and said, “Where are we Cait?”
“You are at one of the sites for the Manhattan Project. The United State’s first atomic bomb is being developed here, in part. It appears Heinrich Kurtz is trying to delay the process as much as possible. He is turning to the right, ahead of you.”
“I see him.”
She followed Kurtz as he made his way between several large buildings. Many appeared to be warehouses, with large warning signs on locked doors saying, “KEEP OUT. DANGER. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.”
Kurtz walked past all these, turned a corner, and headed down another alleyway squeezed between two buildings.
Cait said, “I’m picking up a conversation to which you should listen. I will accentuate your hearing.”
Nancy heard muffled voices through the wall of a building. They suddenly grew sharper.
A man said, “. . . I can’t help it. Duncan was one of our best engineers. Ever since he died, we’ve had to scramble to stay on track.”
Another man said, “What’s the key problem? What’s the main holdup that Duncan was working on?”
“It’s the heavy water thing . . .”
Nancy turned the corner into the passageway. A hundred feet away, Kurtz placed his lunch bucket down and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it, took a couple puffs, then knelt and began emptying the lunch bucket.
“What’s he doing, Cait?”
“He is threading a fuse through the cigarette. When the cigarette burns down, it will light the fuse and set off the dynamite. In effect, he has created a makeshift timer for the bomb.”
Nancy nodded, and headed toward him. She said, “Hey!”
Kurtz looked up, alarmed. He stood and turned, pulling out a wicked-looking gun with a suppressor.
Thwick! Thwick! Thwick!
Nancy ducked and dodged. The bullets could not kill her, but she had no desire to get shot. They sailed past her to the right and left.
“What’s he shooting, Cait?”
“It is a High Standard HDM .22 caliber pistol.”
“Can you jam it?”
“Yes.”
A tiny spark of light burst inside the gun, too small for Kurtz to notice. But it proved powerful enough to damage the inner workings of the High Standard.
Click! Click!
He frowned and looked down at the now useless gun in his hand.
“Give it up, Kurtz!”
Nancy closed their distance by half. She went in unarmed, confident she could disable the spy by hand.
Foom!
A harsh, blinding light flashed in the alley. Cait immediately adjusted Nancy’s eyes so she could see again.
Felix stood in a fighting stance between her and Kurtz. He whipped his hand out and sent half a dozen bolts of light flying toward her. The first one hit her in the middle, searing through her clothes and sinking deep into her belly, taking layers of skin and muscle along the way.
Nancy flew backward in the blast and fell on her back as the other bolts sailed over her.
She grimaced in pain and said, “Well, now we know where Felix is.”
Nancy sat up and whipped out her iron rod. She snapped it with her wrist. Instantly it grew to full size and two pieces broke off, shooting toward the fae. He dodged to his left just as they split in both directions. The one heading left found him. He screamed in pain as the iron point punctured his thigh. He cast another blinding flash of light, and disappeared.
Kurtz covered his eyes and threw his gun at her, turned and ran down the alley just as a couple of MPs rushed around the corner behind Nancy. They skidded to a stop, the blood streaking through her jumpsuit grabbing their full attention.
She pointed at Kurtz and said, “Get him! I saw him light some dynamite over there!”
They ran down the alley. One of them turned to look back. She waved him on.
“I’m fine! Get him!”
The first one stopped when he came to the dynamite. The cigarette burned down and the fuse sputtered and hissed to life. He bent over and yanked the fuse out of the sticks.
His partner ran past him, chasing after Kurtz.
Cait said, “You are not fine. You have suffered considerable damage and will require time to heal. I suggest you find a private place for a doorway and return to Headquarters before you pass out.”
Several other people rounded the corner. More MPs showed up, along with some men wearing business suits and workers in blue coveralls.
“It’s a little late for that, Cait. Heal me up superficially. Leave a small opening to explain the blood. I’ll exit later.”
Instantly the skin on her belly returned, save for a quarter-sized hole oozing blood.
“You’ve been shot!” somebody said.
Nancy looked up and saw a new MP hovering over her with a concerned expression on his face.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine, ma’am. We’ve got to get you to a hospital.”
More people rushed over, several talking at once.
“What happened?”
“Was that an explosion? There was a big flash of light.”
“I think that was dynamite. Maybe someone shooting. She looks like she got hit.”
The MP threw his hands out and said, “Everybody back! Give her some room! Is anybody here a doctor? No? Roberts, go fetch an ambulance for her.”
Nancy smiled, mostly to herself. She didn’t really need an ambulance, or a doctor. All she needed was Tree of Life tea, or some equivalent. The leaves could be ingested in a variety of ways, she thought to herself.
Then she blacked out.
Nancy opened her eyes to find Marcie staring at her intently, inches from her face. As Nancy’s senses returned she realized she was lying in a hospital bed. She wore a gown and an intravenous needle poked out of her arm.
In her mind she said, “Cait? What’s Marcie doing here?”
“I ran new calculations and found your odds of success improve with the assistance of your former secretary.”
“Yes, but . . . she thinks I’m dead.”
“I am sure you will concoct a suitable cover story. I will alter her memory if needed when your job here is done.”
Nancy smiled tentatively at the smaller woman. Out loud she said, “Hi, Marcie.”
“I knew it was you! I knew it!”
“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
“How did I . . . ? What are you doing here? I identified your body at the morgue! You look good, by the way, for somebody who’s supposed to be dead. Who is in the morgue? Or how is it your body is in two places at once? I’m so confused right now. And happy. And . . . I don’t know what to feel.”
Nancy took a deep breath and sighed. She said, “You go first. How did you find me?”
Marcie said, “Well, I went through the office. I cleaned up all your blood.” She gave her boss a look that indicated Nancy would not be allowed to dodge explaining things. “Then I looked at all the files. I don’t have a master list or anything, so I couldn’t tell
if something had been taken from the main cabinet, but I noticed your desk drawer was open. I do remember all the files you had in there, and the one about Mr. Duncan’s murder was missing.
“I tried to remember everything I could about the Duncan case, and I recalled he worked at some kind of military facility in New Jersey. So I went out there this morning to try and talk to somebody. The guards at the gate were very rude. They weren’t letting me in to talk with anybody. About that time there was a big flash of light like an explosion or something, along with a lot of noise and activity.
“A little bit later they let an ambulance in. Since I wasn’t getting inside, I decided to follow the ambulance when it came out and see if I could learn anything. When I saw them wheel you into the hospital, I lied to the receptionist and said I was your sister.
“And now you’re here, dressed like a factory worker, shot in the stomach, while your body is in the morgue shot in the head! Nancy, what in the world is going on? And how can you be alive while your dead body is over there? Or is it still there? Did you just pretend to be dead or something? Do you have a twin? What’s going on?”
Nancy took a deep breath. She looked at her worried secretary and felt a wave of compassion.
“Marcie, I am dead. I was murdered by a Nazi agent because I was getting too close to something. He stole the Duncan file after killing me and delivered it to a man named Kurtz, who is a German spy.
“I came back from the dead . . .” she paused to see how Marcie would take the statement. Marcie stared back, wide-eyed. “. . . and followed the spy and stopped him from setting off a bomb at that installation you couldn’t get into. But I got ‘shot’ in the process, lost a lot of blood, and passed out.”
She stopped and watched Marcie’s eyes dart back and forth between her bandaged stomach and her face while the little secretary processed everything.
Marcie said, “I don’t understand. How are you back? Your body is in the morgue. I saw it. Or is it not there anymore?”
Nancy took a deep breath again and considered how best to answer.
In her mind, Cait said, “Honesty is the best policy. I can wipe her memory later.”