by Holly Hook
Once I've restored everyone, Simon sits and lifts his feet off the sand. “I'm guessing we're somewhere in the Sahara Desert.” He manages a grin, which I'm glad to see. “Just a little hot, isn't it?”
“Really?” Monica faces me, reeling. “Did we just really travel through time?”
“And space,” Simon says.
“No one move,” I say. “The rift is close to here, but if we go too far, we'll never find it again.” I look around. There's a messy spot in the sand where we all landed, about twenty feet away. The rift must be there, but the wind will erase all evidence of us in not too long. We have to stay here.
“But my father!” Isabel protests. She's hoarse from crying. “He might come through to here.”
“We just pray that he didn't see us jump into this rift,” I say. “If we leave this area, we die in this desert. And if he does come through, Time will wipe his memory. It's the same if he goes into any other rift that he's never been in before.”
“I can't believe I forgot about that,” she says. “I can't think. I don't want to think.”
We wait in silence. Every muscle in my body is a spring, ready to jump into action. Simon has his fists up. He turns in a circle. But no one ever appears. It seems that we jumped through the rift just in time. If we're lucky, Isabel's father went through another rift and lost his memory again. If we're not, he's running around in the Hub, hunting for us.
We have another guy trying to kill us. Fantastic. But at least he's out of Nancy's time. He probably won't have the ability to find that rift ever again. I can send Monica back home and he won't be there anymore.
I grab Monica's arm. She's breathing fast, and not just because of the jump through the rift. She almost got shot. I swear, I'm going to murder Isabel's father if I see him again. And Isabel stands there, facing a tall dune. She's crying again. I can tell from the way her back heaves up and down. Her father just tried to shoot her, too. Sure, she tried to kill him, but it must still hurt. I want to comfort both her and Monica, but it looks like Isabel wants to be alone for a while. Besides, we had better stay here for a while if her father is still out in that corridor. We don't want to burst out if he's standing there, calling for us. No one's going to help us in the Hub. The Timeless are probably too busy to even help themselves.
“Well, what now?” I ask.
“I think we should sit tight. Give Isabel's father some time to move on and look for us somewhere else,” Simon says.
“And I need to get my sanity back for a minute,” Monica says. She sits at the foot of a dune.
I join her. The sand is blazing hot through my dress. “I agree.” Sweat prickles the back of my neck. “It must be a hundred and fifty degrees here. We can only stay long enough to not get heatstroke.” My dress hangs on me, heavy. It's the dark brown one. Why didn't I throw on something lighter?
Isabel turns back to us at last. “Well, I can feel a lot less guilty about trying to stab my father now,” she says. There's black hatred in her voice. “Looks like we're even.”
“Isabel.” I rise. Monica does the same and turns as if she can't believe she's actually awake. I'm sure she must think she's in a dream. But if we set things back to normal in her world, she'll never have to experience this at all.
“I don't know what to do about him,” she says, shaking her head. “I can't send him back to my mother and my sister. I just can't.”
“Isabel, I don't know what to say.” I can't even be mad at her anymore. This has got to be horrible for her on so many levels. She must feel like she's no better than her father and no better than Frank. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so angry with you back there at Nancy's house.” I stress Nancy.
“I shouldn't have left my father there.”
"What choice did you have? It's not like you shoved him at Nancy on purpose. Nancy loves to take people in and help others who are lost. She always has. That's the way she is. That's why she took me in when I wound up on her doorstep, with no memory of my past life. It was the same situation with your father.”
Isabel breathes out like she's feeling better. I can sense the mountain coming off her shoulders. “I guess you're right,” she says. “But I'm never going to feel good about this. Ever.”
I think of something. “Look at it this way.” The sun beats down harder and I feel the back of my dress getting damp with sweat. The wind snaps by hair into my face. “If we succeed with all of this and Simon and I continue to live like we should in 1912, I'll remember to make sure you don't get on your ship in World War Two. Then, you'll live your normal life and you'll never have to go through all of this. You'll never have to try to stab your father, as much as he deserves it. You'll never go through the guilt of leaving him with Nancy.”
“We also have to figure out a way to preserve Nancy's existence,” Simon reminds us. There's sweat rolling down his forehead. He wipes it away along with a lock of his dark hair. “For Monica's sake.”
“How are we going to do that?" The weight of everything crashes down on me. This whole thing is like some elusive puzzle that I can't solve. What do we do? What about all the other people that are gone now because we saved the Titanic? The ones who died on other ships because there weren't enough lifeboats? Nancy's not the only one. Do we sacrifice them?
“Do NOT kill yourself, Julia,” Monica demands. “I don't care how complicated this all is. And I know how complicated this all this, thanks to that thing we're using,” she says.
I'm glad we have the clip, so we don't have to explain things to Monica every time we go through a rift. It's saved us so much time.
“I won't,” I say, even through there's a growing voice in me begging me to do the right thing, to let history run its course and kill us all. “I won't.” How long will I fight that voice? How long before I let it urge me to stay in bed on that fateful night and go into the ocean like I'm supposed to?
“We won't sacrifice ourselves,” Simon says. He takes his hands from his pockets. “If we do that, we will kill Arnelia. And Isabel.”
“I like Simon's thinking," Isabel says. “We need to find a way to save Nancy's ancestor. But first I think we should deal with Frank. That'll get one problem out of the way, and free us to pursue the rest of our missions.”
“How many missions are we going to have?” I ask. “Will we have ten more after we take care of Frank?”
“That's a good point,” Monica says. She studies the unforgiving sky. “I can't believe I just traveled through time. I don't even know what time this is.”
Simon's feeling through the air, arms outstretched. He heads to the messy spot in the sand, which is beginning to fade as the wind fills it in. “I think the rift is right here,” he says, gesturing ahead of him. “My arms are tingling. I don't want to get any closer. No wonder I never came through this one when I was Timeless. No one's ever here.”
“You don't even have most of your Timeless memories,” I remind him. “So maybe you have been though here. You only have my memories of you being Timeless.”
“I know. That's weird,” he says. “I suppose we should wait a while, just to make extra sure Isabel's father is gone before we head back to the Hub. If we're lucky, he's gone into some other rift and he won't find his way back for quite a while. If we're unlucky, he'll wander the corridors there, searching for us until he succeeds.”
I have the horrible feeling that the second possibility is the right one. Isabel's father has our memories. He must know that if he dives into another rift, he'll get another memory wipe.
“I agree,” I say. “We should go and stop Frank first and get one problem out of the way. It's not like saving his life and saving his brother is going to make Time any more sick. It looks like only the big changes do that.”
"That sounds right,” Isabel says. Her skin is getting red in the sun. “Small changes, like someone ending up in the wrong time, never made Time sick as far as I know."
“So what do we do?” Monica asks. “Sit? Because this sand isn't very
comfortable.”
“Not in this,” I say. I can feel the heat burning through my leather shoes. The sun grows hotter, making sweat flow down my back. “We shouldn't stay more than another half an hour. I don't want to die from heat stroke. Who knows when we're going to find water again?” I'm already thirsty. I don't envy anyone who's died out here.
“And who knows when this rift dissipates?” Simon asks. “It still feels pretty strong, but I'll stand here and yell if I feel it getting weaker.”
“Thanks.”
We have no choice but to wait. No one speaks. All I can think of is the horrifying thought of going through the corridors of the Hub with Isabel's father stalking around, aiming to shoot us all without hesitation. What if he shoots Monica? I'll die.
And even worse is the thought of heading into the Battle of Gettysburg. I've heard stories of soldiers being mass buried, of limbs sticking out of the ground after the battle. It's not something I want to see. And I definitely don't want to see someone getting blown apart with a cannon.
I have to do this for my family.
Both of them.
At last, Simon stands up all the way. “I think this rift feeling weaker,” he says. “If we don't want to die a horrible death out here, we have to jump through now. It's fading.”
None of us hesitates. Monica leaps through first, following Simon's hand gestures. She stands in the desert for a second and her form wavers, but it could just be the heat. And then she merges with the ripples and vanishes.
"Now you." He points to Isabel.
Isabel goes next. “Best to send the two least likely people Isabel's father is going to kill first,” Simon tells me as she vanishes. “He was aiming at the two of us most of all."
I step up to Simon. There's no telling what's waiting on the other side of the rift. “I guess we head to the Civil War now,” I say. “If we can even make it there.”
“We will.”
And we kiss right there under the blazing sun. Simon's lips are hot and burning. Mine are, too. My heart pounds harder and for a magical second, all the heat goes away and there's just me and him, embracing each other.
“At the same time,” I breathe, pulling him towards where the rift must be.
We fall, holding each other like our lives are about to end. Which, now that I think about it, they probably are. Whether it's in a few seconds or a few hours doesn't matter.
Chapter Twelve
We land.
“Guess what?” Monica asks before I can even get my bearings. “I'm still very freaked out about standing in the place where all times meet, but we're still alive, at least. Mr. Nazi is gone. He must have run somewhere else, looking for us.”
“Good,” I say. I search up and down the corridor to be sure. There's no sign of Isabel's father. I don't know where he's gone, but he's gone for now that means we're going to live a little longer.
“But Time...” Isabel says.
The corridor is a little more red since we left. The sickness that's set in since we saved the Titanic is only growing worse. Time hasn't been able to rid itself from its infection yet, from the thing that's making it ill. The corridor is almost blood red, as if all the lights behind the crystal have turned angry and inflamed. The fog's even thicker, so thick that I can't see too far down the corridor at all, only about fifty feet at the most.
“My father could be anywhere,” Isabel says, keeping her voice down.
“Anywhere,” I repeat. “That's going to make our walk to the Civil War even more fun.” He could be waiting a hundred feet away and I won't know.
“We had better move,” Simon says.
“I'm sure the Chronophages are still out,” Isabel whispers. She seizes my arm as if she's scared I'm going to disappear. “We don't want to see them, even though I'm not sure what they're going to want to eat.”
“Us. Only, they can't since we're mortal now,” I suggest. A shudder races through my whole body, despite the fact that the desert heat still clings to me. “What do they look like?”
“They're like giant white blood cells,” Isabel says. “They're Time's immune system. Be glad that you don't remember seeing them. It's a blessing, really. I think I'm going to have nightmares about them for the rest of my life.”
“You won't once we go back and fix this mess,” Simon tells her.
We walk. I have to trust Isabel as she leads us through the fog. It's so thick, I can't believe she even remembers where the Civil War rift is. Perhaps her own memories are a lot clearer to her than they are to Simon, Monica and I. I try to sift through Isabel's memories of the Hub, but they're blurry and out of focus like they're not meant for me. My own memories, however, are still clear. That would make sense.
“I feel like I'm walking through some kind of blood vapor or something,” Monica says. She hugs herself as her shoes make light slapping noises on the crystal. She sticks close to me. She's shaking. “This is not my turf. Where are we going again? I got something about Frank's memories when I put that thing on. Some rift that goes to the Civil War.”
“You're right,” I say. “If you don't want to go, I understand. You can always wait out here in the Hub for us to get back. I don't want to go, either.” I hate the thought of her being dragged into this.
“I'll go,” she says. “I can be the one to wait by the rift so you guys don't get lost. Provided it's not in the middle of the battle or something.”
“That's what I'm hoping.” What will we come out on? Which side of the battle? Either way, it's going to be dangerous.
Isabel stops by a random rift. “You remember this one, Simon?” she asks.
He shakes his head. “I don't have most of that now.”
“This is another one where you used to stand a lot,” she says, pointing to the archway. “It was your life right after that carnival where you met Julia. I think. At least, that's what you said a long time ago.”
We face the random rift. It looks like every other archway. I can imagine Simon standing there, wondering if I'm on the other side. Sure, it would be a slightly younger me, but me all the same. I let go of Monica's hand and hold his. “More memories,” I say.
This is just a little after the time we met. The day I lost Melvin at the carnival, and the day he came out of the crowd and helped me go and find him.
“Now's not the time to take a trip down memory lane,” Monica says. She breaks into our mental break. “I'm sorry to be a whiner, but this happens to me when my life and sense of reality explodes like this. We have to get going. I don't want to see what these Chronophages look like.”
“You don't,” Isabel agrees.
“We have to live that long," I say.
“Let's go,” Monica says. I can hear the fear in her voice.
Then we hear it.
Footsteps.
Someone's running down the corridor from behind us.
There's a gunshot, exploding through the silence. Sparks fly off the edge of the archway we've been facing, leaving a smoking, shattered wound in the red crystal. Shards rain to the floor.
It's him.
He didn't go far after all.
“Go.” Isabel's running up the corridor already.
The four of us burst into a run. He won't shoot if he can't see us, right?
“Halt!”
“Faster,” Monica breathes.
The fog refuses to thin ahead. It's a blessing that these corridors curve, that he doesn't have a straight shot at us. That fact might save our lives. We can run fast enough to lose him in the fog, if only we can get to the Main Chamber in time. It's too late to jump into a rift now. He'll just wait out here for us to return. But what if we run into a Chronophage?
Another gunshot rings out. He's on a rampage even worse than Frank. Isabel's attempt to murder him has driven him over the edge. Brought out the full monster that he kept hidden from his family. What if he wants to torture us? Drag us back to his time and send us to some death camp? He can find a reason to damn us to one.
&
nbsp; The corridor opens up and we run out into a ballroom of fog and nothingness. The crystal floor echoes under us we as run. I keep my gaze trained on Isabel, who looks back and waves us along faster. I have to trust that she knows where to go.
“Run ahead of me.” Simon slaps his hand on my back. I'm getting tired. Struggling to catch my breath. Our footfalls echo through the whole chamber. We sound like a stampeding crowd. I hope it throws Isabel's father off.
I slow my run and follow her. A sharp set of footsteps—boot steps, actually, sound behind us and I know Isabel's father has run out into the Main Chamber. Another shot rings out, and then nothing. The wind zips past my ear and I know I've just had a near miss. He knows which direction we've run.
Isabel slows ahead and I nearly crash into her. I wonder if she's slowing down to make less noise, but I'm wrong.
There's a huge shape in the fog.
It's round, like an eight-foot-tall, dirty soap bubble. There's a line across it like a jagged mouth that's not fully formed, and two pits where I think eyes should be.
My stomach turns.
It's a Chronophage.
One of things that supposedly ate the Timeless versions of Simon and I. This could even be the same one for all I know.
Simon grabs my hand. “Is that one?” he breathes.
It stays there, completely still, as if we're not even there. Isabel walks closer to it. Footsteps draw closer behind us. We can't stay here long. I glance back. Her father's not close enough to see through the fog, but he might be headed this way.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“We're safe,” she whispers. “We can even touch these. We need to scoot through before my father comes this way.”
“Scoot through?” Monica hisses.
Then I see.
There's more than one.
A lot more than one.
In fact, the entire center of the Main Chamber is full of them. The soapy balls huddle together like they're trying to stay warm or like they're having some secret meeting. They make no sound. None are moving.