Ascension

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Ascension Page 3

by C J M Naylor


  Both of us shook our heads in unison and as the waitress walked away, I looked down at my food and played with it with my fork.

  "I'm not so hungry anymore," I said.

  "Eat up," Thomas said. "Anything could happen, and you'll want to make sure you're nourished and rested." He nodded at my food again. "Eat."

  I sighed but gave in and began to eat my food.

  The music that had been playing over the radio was suddenly interrupted.

  "This just in," the announcer said, "sources are reporting that a devastating earthquake has shaken the entire city of Los Angeles, resulting in a catastrophic loss of human life as well as severe structural damage to some of the city's most iconic buildings. This news comes only a day after the city of San Francisco also suffered severe earthquakes as well as a tsunami. Sources close to us say that there are almost no survivors in the city limits, and that emergency crews are still unable to get into the city because of severe flooding and the potential threat for a second tsunami. We will keep you updated as more comes in about both of these incidents."

  I dropped the fork and sat back, looking at Thomas.

  "There's no way I can eat now," I said.

  He sighed, closing his eyes as if he were thinking, and then opened them again.

  "From what Elijah said, we should expect this to continue happening. You can't let it beat you down. We will fix this."

  Even though he was right in front of me, he felt a million miles away. I nodded absentmindedly and he continued eating. I turned my attention to the world outside, where the temperature continued to drop. Again, I noticed the gray-brown bird. The kind of bird it was kept slipping my mind. But it brought me a sort of comfort, and I wished I knew why.

  CHAPTER THREE

  That night, I found myself wide awake at two in the morning. Thomas, on the other hand, was still sound asleep. I carefully maneuvered myself out of his arms, careful not to rouse him.

  Once I climbed out of bed, I walked over to the window that overlooked the driveway below where the car we had driven here was parked. Everything looked fairly normal outside, except for the temperature continuing to decline. The house was draftier than it had been when we went to sleep, and I found that my hand was freezing as soon as I placed it on the pane of the window.

  Turning toward the bedroom door, I saw a faint light glowing from underneath the threshold. It looked like someone might be up, and being unable to go back to sleep, I decided to investigate.

  After stepping out onto the landing and making my way down the staircase, I turned right into Henry's sitting room and found Oliver on the couch. The source of the light was a fire going in the fireplace, and upon closer inspection, I saw that Oliver had what looked like a photo album laid out on his lap. As I crept closer, the floor creaked and Oliver quickly looked over his shoulder.

  "You startled me," Oliver said. "Surely I didn't wake you?"

  I shook my head. "No, I'm just wide awake and couldn't sleep. I saw a light and came down to check it out. Looks like it was the fire."

  "I haven't been able to sleep either," Oliver said. "I'm just looking at some old pictures."

  I moved around the edge of the couch and took a seat next to Oliver. The photo album looked old, and the pictures looked even older.

  "How long have you known Thomas?" I asked.

  "Oh, my entire life. You see, Henry was a pilot in World War I with my father. Our fathers were also pretty close friends. They have several pictures in here together. This is just before Henry met Thomas' birth mother."

  "She left Thomas and Henry, didn't she?" I asked even though Thomas had already told me this to be true.

  Oliver nodded. He began to page through the album until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a tattered old photo and handed it to me.

  "This was shortly after Thomas was born," he said. "His mother didn't stay long. In fact, I think this is the only picture of her. I know nothing about her. Henry never speaks of her, and never told Thomas her name or anything. I don't think he wants to know."

  I reached out and took the picture from Oliver, turning my attention to a younger version of Henry. He was clearly happy, holding his baby in his arms. And then my heart almost stopped as I looked at the woman next to them. She looked as if she wanted nothing to do with the man and child standing next to her. She had short brown hair and wore a plain outfit. She looked exactly the same, albeit younger, as she did when I had let her plunge into the watery depths of the Thames all those months ago.

  Thomas’ mother was Bessie.

  My hand shook as I continued to hold the picture and look into Bessie's eyes.

  "Abigail?"

  I broke out of my trance and looked back at Oliver. "I'm sorry. Yes?"

  "Are you okay?" Oliver asked. "You're shaking."

  I handed the picture back to him and stood up. "I'm fine. I just, I just need to get back to bed."

  Oliver gave me a puzzling expression but didn't question me. He bid me good night and I made my way back upstairs and into the bedroom I was sharing with Thomas. He was still sound asleep as I entered the room and shut the door. I got back into bed but didn't go to sleep. Instead, I watched Thomas sleep.

  Surprisingly, it didn't bother me that Bessie was his mother. You couldn't judge someone because of who their parents were. I thought of Lucinda, my grandmother. And I thought of my sister, Melanie. We all had people in our families that weren't good people. What mattered was the amount of good there was in a family, and the choices those good people made. Those good choices would override the bad.

  No, what really bothered me was that Thomas supposedly didn't know that Bessie was his mother. Henry had never mentioned her name, and Thomas would have no idea that the woman in the one picture he had would be Bessie, because he wouldn’t know what Bessie looked like. As I watched Thomas sleep, I wondered how this knowledge might change him. I didn't want to do that to him. I didn't want to change him. But I also remembered to how I felt before I knew the truth about my biological parents. I would have wanted to know. Even after everything that had happened to me, I would still want to have known everything I could about them.

  Thomas looked so peaceful. I decided that for now, I would keep this knowledge to myself. I reached out to move some hair that had fallen in front of his closed eyes. And then there were flashes.

  I saw her. Bessie.

  "I'm with child," Bessie was telling a younger version of Henry. They were in the American Headquarters.

  "That's great, love," Henry said, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his.

  Bessie didn't look particularly pleased by the idea.

  And then more flashes. She was fully pregnant now, and she was in a bathroom, taking something. And then Henry found her unconscious. And then she was giving birth, and then they were taking the picture that Oliver had just shown me. And then Bessie was trying to smother Thomas in his crib with a pillow.

  "What are you doing?" Henry shouted at her.

  He pushed Bessie out of the way, and she grabbed something and lunged at him. Thomas was crying during all of this. And then I pulled my hand away and everything stopped. The visions, they melted away as if they hadn't been there at all.

  In the darkness, I looked at my hand. I had simply reached to move some hair out of Thomas' eyes, and I had seen into his past. How could this be possible? It was something unlike anything I had experienced thus far as a Timekeeper.

  It's another power. Something only original Timekeepers possess.

  Melanie.

  Leave me alone, I said to her in my mind. I don't want anything to do with you.

  You're never going to be safe. We have a connection Abigail.

  You haven't spoken to me since San Francisco.

  That is your doing. You've kept me at bay. But I can break through when you are most vulnerable. And now I know where you are.

  What do you mean?

  But she was gone.

  I shouted to th
e room. "What do you mean?"

  Thomas jolted upright, looking around in the darkness, and then turning on the bedside lamp.

  "Abby?" he asked, reaching for me.

  "Thomas," I said, turning to him, "I think she knows. I think Melanie knows where we are. We have to go."

  Thomas looked at me for a brief second, a questioning look on his face, and then he jumped out of bed and sprang into action.

  "I should have considered this," Thomas said, throwing on his shirt and pants. "Part of your connection is the ability to know what you're thinking. She can see your thoughts when you let her in, and I'm sure you had some brief thought of Colorado in there, even if you didn't mean to."

  "But I can't see her thoughts," I countered, completely dumbfounded by what was going on.

  Thomas stopped what he was doing and walked over to me. He sat next to me.

  "Abby," he said, touching my shoulder, "she's had years and years of training. They've been preparing her for this. She's going to know exactly how to get into your head, especially when you are vulnerable, and she's going to know exactly how to keep you out of hers. Did something happen while I was asleep? Something had to have broken you down."

  I quickly shook my head. "Nothing."

  I hated lying to him.

  He considered me for a moment and then stood up again, moving about the room and grabbing things he thought we might need.

  "Surely we have some time though," I said. "They have to travel by Time Line to get here right? There's no Time Line in Colorado, I'm assuming."

  "No," Thomas said, finding a suitcase in a closet. "But remember, the Time Line can drop you anywhere you want to go. They could be here in a matter of minutes, especially if they've got Headrick on their side. I've no doubt she's probably gotten out of Antarctica and back to her place at the Central Headquarters. From there, she has access to tools that will allow her to travel anywhere. They will be here within a matter of minutes."

  At that, I sprang into action. "I'll wake everyone."

  "Wake up my father, too," Thomas said. "He'll need to go with us or they will charge him with conspiring against the Council, I've no doubt about it."

  I left the room and moved quickly down the hallway, opening doors and turning lights on. Alma walked out of her room, and Henry walked out of the other. Oliver appeared at the foot of the stairs.

  "Was goin' on?" Alma said, rubbing her eyes from being pulled from a deep sleep.

  "We need to leave," I told them all. "They know where we are. My sister, Melanie, read my mind. They're coming."

  Alma, Henry, and Oliver looked at me for a second, and then they all sprang into action, moving from room to room to get their things together.

  Thomas appeared in the doorway of our room.

  "Abby," he said, "I need you to tell me where to go. Finding your mother is our best bet at figuring all of this out. Where do you think she is?"

  I shook my head. "I don't know. I honestly have no idea where she could be."

  Thomas stepped forward and put his hands on my shoulders. "We need to have a place to go. We can't just run from one place to another."

  "Don't you think I know that? Thomas, if I knew where she might be, I'd tell you. I'm not going to just make a random guess though and send us all on a wild goose chase."

  "Paris."

  Thomas and I turned to look at Henry. He was standing at the far end of the hallway, a suitcase already in his hand. He looked as if he had just let out a secret that he had been keeping for the longest time.

  I looked at him, confused. "What did you say?"

  "Your mother," he responded, "she's in Paris. I'm absolutely positive about that. We don't have the time for me to give the whole story, but I know your mother, and I promised to keep her location a secret unless it was urgent it be revealed. I wasn't sure at first whether or not I should say anything, but I know now that it's best to reveal where she is. And since Mathias is there as well, maybe we can find a way to get to them both."

  Thomas was completely still next to me. He was also confused by this revelation, but he didn't question it.

  "Very well," he said. "We will go to Paris. Let's hurry."

  Thomas went back into the room and Henry proceeded down toward me, brushed past me, and headed down the stairs. I turned and stood at the foot of the stairs, looking down at him.

  "Mr. Jane," I called after him, "how do you know my mother?”

  He turned and looked back at me, a look of sadness on his face. "Please, now isn't the time Abigail, but I promise you, you can trust me. And please, call me Henry." He walked on, disappearing from my sight, leaving me at the top of the stairs, briefly wondering who he really was.

  As soon as we possibly could, we were all packed together into the car and heading back for Colorado Springs. Oliver knew someone who could get us a larger plane, and he would fly us to Paris. Since Mathias also was in Paris, we would find a way to get to him as well. How, I had no idea. And it almost seemed like it would be harder getting to him for once than to my mother who had faked her own death.

  Henry drove the car, with Oliver in the front passenger seat. Alma, Thomas, and I were in the back. I looked out the window as the car moved on toward our destination. It had begun to snow, quite heavily.

  "This isn't good," Oliver said, looking out the window. "They aren't going to let us take off if visibility is this reduced."

  "I don't think we have much of a choice, Oli," Thomas replied from the back seat. "There might not even be anyone there to stop us. If it keeps up, they might have shut down the airport by the time we get there."

  I was seated between Alma and Thomas. Alma turned to me and smiled.

  "How are you doing?" she asked me. "We haven't had much chance to talk since we got here."

  I returned the smile. "I'm fine. I just hate that all of you have to go through this with me."

  Alma clasped my hand in hers. "I want to go through this with you. If we can turn things around, and get these dark Timekeepers out of the Council, I think things could get a lot better for everyone. Even though the Timekeepers are more accepting of my people than the everyday human being, it still isn't great."

  I nodded at that, remembering quite clearly Stuart Winston's blatant discrimination.

  "Alma," I said, "can I ask you something?"

  She nodded.

  "Have you ever touched something and then had some sort of memory about it?" I asked her.

  "I haven't," Alma said. "But I've heard about the ability. I think it's called being an empath or something like that. I haven't heard of Timekeepers possessing the ability though, but more so in science fiction. Did you experience something like that?"

  I wanted to say yes. I wanted to tell her that I had experienced something. But I didn't. Instead I just shook my head.

  "No," I said, "I just saw something about it in a book and was curious. Forget I asked."

  Alma gave me a questioning look but didn't say anything more about it. She turned to look out the window, and after a bit, fell asleep.

  I relaxed my head on Thomas' shoulder. He too had been staring out the window. He placed his arm around my neck and I scooted closer to him. I wanted to throw my arms around him, but I didn't. He was right there with me, but I was afraid that I was going to lose him. I couldn't lose him. I couldn't lose him or anyone else. I fell asleep against him, with the fear of my loved ones on my mind.

  Henry and I sat in an area of the Colorado Springs Airport. It wasn't a passenger waiting area, as the airport had been taken over by the military for purposes relating to the war. Thomas and Oliver had gone to speak with someone in the military that they had a connection with, to hopefully find a plane that Oliver could operate and use to fly us to Paris. Alma had gone off to look around for a bit, and I found myself sitting alone for the first time with Henry. He didn't speak at all. The only sounds he made were the sounds of breathing and the nervous tap of his foot against the concrete floor.

  After
sitting there for about ten minutes, I finally turned to him.

  "How do I know I can trust you?" I asked him.

  The foot tapping stopped, and he didn't look at me right away. He gazed off into the distance, looking at nothing in particular. I assumed he was pondering his answer. Finally, after what looked like an internal struggle, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a bundle of envelopes.

  My breathing became ragged. The envelopes were all of various colors, postmarked from various places, but they all had the same familiar handwriting. Handwriting I had already seen on the letter my mother left for my adoptive parents, the letter telling me my father was dead, because she wanted to keep me away from the world of the Timekeepers.

  "Are those from her?"

  It took everything in my power not to snatch them out of Henry's hand. They weren't mine after all, whatever claim I felt I had on them.

  Henry looked at them, and then back at me, and nodded. He looked like he was struggling to hand them to me, like he was struggling to give up part of his soul. Finally, he did.

  "I wish I could give you an explanation," Henry said. "I wish I could tell you everything. It's not that I can't. I just don't feel that I'm strong enough. And I'm sure you'd rather hear it from her."

  Henry stood up and walked away, not looking back at me. I had only known him for a day, but so far he was surprising me in so many different ways. I turned my attention back to the envelopes and began to sift through them, until I found the earliest one I could. I opened it, took a deep breath, and began reading.

  January 30, 1926

  My Dearest Henry,

  I miss Mathias. I miss my daughters. I miss London. I miss you.

  Even though I am left with the pain and guilt of my decisions, I still know I made the right ones. I take comfort in knowing Abigail is safe from my mother, and that Mathias, while I'm sure is suffering, is also safe. I grieve every day that I wasn't able to save my other daughter. I'm not sure if I'm a believer in anything, but I want to be one. I pray every single day that my other daughter will be safe, that she will somehow get away from my mother, Bessie, and Aldridge. But I've also been on this earth long enough to know not everything you hope for will come true.

 

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