He spun around, snapping back into reality, his moment with Izzy officially gone forever, and saw the man in the trench coat across the street, standing tall with a pistol pointed at his face. He was tucked into the alley where Martin had just hidden moments ago.
Shots kept firing, and Martin ducked as he ran away, flailing for his pockets and the flask of Juice that served as his return ticket to 2020 and the jet in Winnipeg. He glanced over his shoulder once he rounded the block’s corner, and saw the man sprinting toward him. That moment of separation was all he needed to grab hold of his flask, unscrew the cap, and jam a swig of the Juice into his mouth. He crawled under a doorway, people still too occupied with running to safety to notice him vanish into thin air.
Chapter 24
Martin panted for breath, sweat running down the side of his face as he stood up and stretched his legs in the confines of the jet’s bathroom. He grabbed the side of the sink, staring into the mirror where he saw the tear on his suit jacket’s shoulder, flesh exposed with dried blood around the mild wound.
“Holy shit,” he gasped, still catching his breath. He turned on the sink and splashed some water on his face, tossing a handful on his hair to help clean up his appearance. Hopefully no one outside would question anything and think he just had a difficult time on the can. Martin patted his suit, furious he had no chance of grabbing the bag of clothes he had departed in, now lying beside a dumpster in 1995 Denver where a homeless person would surely enjoy their warmth.
His breathing was back under control, but he still drew a long breath before unlocking the door and stepping outside. Most everyone remained scattered about the jet, carrying on their conversations. No one even looked to their commander as he wriggled his way along the wall to not be seen.
Everyone except Alina, who sat in her seat next to Martin’s, an inevitable encounter awaiting him thanks to the look of judgment in her eyes. He dropped into his seat and quickly opened his laptop in hopes of giving an appearance that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Especially a trip into the past where someone—obviously a Revolter—tried to assassinate him.
This area of the jet was equipped with a curtain that ran on a rounded track from the ceiling, meant to give the commander and lieutenant a private meeting space. They hadn’t used it once, but Alina now stood up and snapped the curtain closed around them, whispering. “Where the fuck did you go?!”
Martin frowned, years removed from the once lethal poker face he had in his mid-20’s. “To the bathroom,” he said in a how-dare-you-question-me tone.
“And you decided to change into a suit before heading out for this mission?”
Martin felt his face flush with hot blood. He had covered the tear on his shoulder as best he could, so far relieved that she hadn’t questioned it, but also knowing he had been caught.
“Commander, we all heard you throwing up this morning. I know there is no reason for you to have been in that bathroom for ten minutes. Tell me where you went. You could have jeopardized this entire mission.” She glared into his eyes, and the tension forced him to look away and avoid eye contact. “Did you go back to see Sonya?” she hissed.
Martin shook his head, lowering it as he settled on staring to the ground. “I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about my death all day and night. I went back to see my daughter one last time. 1995. I had a specific day in mind that I thought would be perfect.”
Alina leaned back, but her arms remained stiff and perched on the armrests. “Did it not go well?”
Martin shook his head, still refusing eye contact. He reached up and flipped back the flap from his tattered suit, revealing the bruised skin that had been grazed by the bullet. “I was maybe twenty feet away from Izzy when someone started shooting. Caught me here, but that’s it. Got out before anything worse happened.”
“Jesus Christ, Martin, what were you thinking?!”
Even though they were peers, Alina had never called Martin by his first name. Her deciding to use his name in this moment showered all of her intended disappointment over Martin.
“I don’t know. It’s been hard sitting here all day, watching everyone act like everything is fine in the world while I’m wondering if I’ll be alive tomorrow. I had to do something, and figured I’d try to get in a final goodbye.”
Alina shook her head. “I can’t say I blame you, and I know how you’re feeling. Why didn’t you just come talk to me? I’ve had countless missions where I’ve wondered—no, expected—death to finally take me away. But here I am, ready to witness history for our organization. Believe me, Commander, if I could go do this mission for you I would, but not a single one of us can help you once time is frozen.”
Martin looked up, his eyes droopy with regret. “I know, and maybe that’s why I’m having such a difficult time. I’m not normally afraid of Chris, but I’ve always had a team surrounding me. I’m horrified of being alone with him. It’s literally a fight to the death—on his turf.”
Alina nodded. “I get it. But keep in mind, he won’t have quite the advantage you think. Sure it’s his cabin, but it’s not like he knows the area as well as Barrow. If this encounter were taking place at his mansion, that’s a different story—you’d have no chance. But this fight in the woods is probably as neutral of a site we could ask for. That’s why our first step was getting him out of that mansion and demolishing it. Same with the store. Those were two locations he knew like the back of his hand. We didn’t know where he’d end up going after that, but I’d say this has worked out in our favor. And there’s nothing to worry about. The fact that he hasn’t made an appearance confirms—at least for me—that he is indeed growing weaker since Sonya died. If he had anywhere near his regular strength he’d have made an appearance to egg you on, perhaps taunt you into making a bad decision.”
Martin chuckled. “Apparently I can do that all on my own. I can’t believe I just left here with no sort of protection around me. What the hell was I thinking?”
“That’s beside the point now. The Chris you’ll be meeting in the woods is not the one you’ve known this whole time. He’s weak, slow, and fragile. He’ll have an advantage based on position and will probably try to kill you with traditional means like a gun. If you can lure him out of the cabin, you’ll have the upper hand. It’s imperative that you think critically before every single step you take, play it from all possible angles before committing to a decision.”
“I get that. Really. I’m not lacking confidence in our plans or even my ability to carry out this mission. It’s just Chris. Even if he’s weak, he has been nothing but unpredictable as long as I’ve known him. He’s a lunatic. And do we really think he’s just sitting in that cabin waiting for the time to pass? If I know him, then he’s making plans as well, ready to counter whatever comes his way. Ready to kill.”
“He’s gonna put up a fight. I expect nothing less. This is his very existence at stake, and that of the Keeper of Time status. No one actually knows what happens when the acting Keeper is murdered, but we have teams ready to raid all of his known properties and Revolution offices across the continent to search for those answers. They will literally be barging into those places as soon as we get word that he’s dead, likely during your victory speech.”
“I hadn’t realized that was planned. You’ve covered all our bases once again. I have to know—are there plans in place in case Chris wins this battle?”
Now Alina was the one avoiding eye contact, staring to the curtains enclosing them. “Of course. Not plans you’d like to hear about—no need to pollute your mind with any more doubt.”
“As Commander, I demand you tell me the plans,” Martin said sternly, his turn to glare at the lieutenant.
Alina shifted in her seat, clearly seeking a way out of this conversation, but running into the brick wall of a fact that Martin was indeed the highest-ranking official, and what he said had to be honored. She cleared her throat. “There are two scenarios we have planned for aside from a victory. The first
one is an unlikely possibility that both you and Chris end up dead. Should that happen, I’ll become the commander, and Arielle has agreed to be my lieutenant. We will move forward with the rest of the plan after a month-long memorial in your honor.”
“Wow, so you already know how long my funeral will be,” Martin said, forever impressed by the level of planning.
“It won’t come to that, we just have to be prepared for every possibility. The second scenario is one where you die and Chris lives. The plans for that will be to disband the North American Road Runners and allow our members to hide away in a remote location since we won’t be able to offer any sort of protection. We’d be closing the doors on the organization forever.”
Martin’s eyebrows shot up. “You wouldn’t keep fighting? How can that be?”
“Commander, you asked me to lead this mission. I’ve had the late-night meetings with people from every corner of the organization and have run these plans by everyone, including the other commanders and yourself—minus these particulars. The consensus is that this is our final chance to kill Chris. A real chance. We’ve never been this close. Never has a Road Runner sat a couple hundred miles away from Chris, with a real opportunity to take his life. Almost fifty years of existence. If this mission fails, then we believe the organization will fail with it. No more excuses, no more second chances. Just an acceptance of the reality that we’ll never beat Chris at his own game.”
“So you’ll let me die in vain,” Martin said, more to himself. “Interesting. I suppose this isn’t the organization I thought.”
Martin stood as if to leave, but Alina shot her hand out, grabbing his forearm and urging him to sit back down. “Commander, please.”
He paused a moment, locking eyes with her and debating everything from storming out of the curtains, to resigning as commander and running away forever. Begrudgingly, he sat down and crossed his arms. “Go ahead.”
“This isn’t a decision we just threw together for the sake of discussion. It was calculated and considered, even the Council reviewed it and had quite the heated debate. Eventually, everyone involved came to an agreement that should we lose a commander for the second time this year, then we’re probably not meant to stay in operation. Your death would only spark further division and fear, and the organization would likely fizzle away on its own because of it. None of this is ideal, but we felt it was the right decision.”
Martin rubbed his temples. He had always known he was responsible for the lives of millions of Road Runners, but this mission now seemed as direct of a correlation as any, bringing back the grueling sickness to his entire body.
“I didn’t realize any of this—you should have told me. I’d have had a different mindset during these past few weeks. Why wouldn’t you tell me that our very existence depended on this mission?”
Alina shrugged. “I thought that already seemed pretty obvious, and we didn’t want to add any more pressure. We’re well aware of the risk and severity of what we’re asking you.”
Martin shook his head. “I think you’re forgetting. No one asked me to do anything. This mission was my idea, you just figured out the details. I’ve been on board with everything you’ve proposed and will continue to be. Don’t worry about scaring me and be honest, that’s all I want.”
“I will—I’m sorry. How are you feeling?”
Martin drew a deep breath and blew it out of his mouth. “This is a lot to process, but I’m ready. I can’t say it’s necessarily changed how nervous I am about going into those woods. I’m going to need to face the music at some point, regardless of how much I drag out the next few hours.”
“You know what the best way to pass time is?” Alina asked, prompting a shrug from Martin. “Conversation. We’ve already been behind this curtain for twenty-five minutes. How about you and I go around the jet and just check in with everyone on this fabulous team? It’ll lead to some small talk, help keep your mind off things while we pass the time.”
“Okay, let’s give it a try.”
They both rose this time, and Alina pulled back the curtains, pleased to find no one attempting to eavesdrop. They walked together, striking up conversations with everyone who had made this mission possible, Martin unable to help but steal glances at his watch, the final countdown now underway.
Chapter 25
As expected, Alina’s plan worked flawlessly. Martin caught up with people he hadn’t chatted with since their initial flight to Chicago three weeks ago. The talks provided plenty of distraction, but weren’t quite enough to completely erase the pending doom from his mind, much like his brief mission to see Izzy had succeeded in doing before spiraling out of control.
One jet window had been left open to provide a glimpse of the outside world, the rest ordered to remain shut for security reasons. Martin had watched the afternoon pass, the bright glow from outside giving way to a soft orange haze as the sun descended on the cold autumn night. 5:15 arrived, and with it came the group of four Road Runners who had ventured out earlier in the day to drive the exact route that Martin was about to endure.
Felix Francisco was the first one to step through the doorway, a rather short man of pale complexion, his dirty blonde hair ruffled as if they had driven all 400 miles with the windows down.
“Everything looks clear,” he said, making his way toward Alina and Martin. “Even the construction zone has been cleaned up. It’s a straight shot to Angle Inlet, no slowdowns, no speed traps, and not even a border checkpoint.”
“Thank you, Felix,” Alina said, grinning proudly. “We knew about the border crossing not having any sort of checkpoint, but I’m very pleased to hear the construction is out of the way. This should allow plans to move ahead just slightly from our projected schedule. Commander Briar, you can leave now if you’d like, since there aren’t any adjustments to be made.”
The dread of hearing those words suffocated Martin as he faked a smile, nodding his head by sheer will. “Okay. I’m ready.”
The jet fell silent as everyone realized the moment had finally arrived. Arielle worked her way from the rear cabin, a backpack slung over one shoulder as she approached Martin’s side. They shuffled toward the jet’s open doorway, pausing as Martin faced the team. “Thank you all, again. None of this would be possible without you. Regardless of what happens, my only hope is that the legacy of your hard work will live forever.”
“Give him hell, Commander!” someone shouted, but Martin’s mind was too busy racing to notice who. Everyone else broke into cheers, showering him with well wishes and good luck. He waved one final time before following Arielle down the steps where an all-black SUV waited below, picked up and dropped off by the crew who had just returned.
The outdoor air refreshed Martin, the cold filling his lungs a much needed change of pace from the stuffy jet. The silence immediately added to the sense of solitude that he had been mentally preparing for. The next two hours would be just him and Arielle; after that, just him and Chris.
“You ready, Commander?” Arielle asked once they reached the bottom of the stairs. He lugged a duffel bag over his shoulder, pulling it off to toss in the backseat.
“Yes,” he replied, more to hear himself confirm he was ready for this mission. They both climbed into the vehicle, Arielle firing up the engine and punching their destination into the car’s GPS system.
Martin watched as the map calculated their route, drawing a thick blue line that curved downward and to the right before breaking further south where the image of a checkered flag signified their final destination.
Arielle shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the hangar without another look back, zipping out of the airport as if they were running late instead of early, driving like she wanted this trip over with as much as Martin.
“Consider this time yours, Commander,” she said. “If you want music, want to talk, or want complete silence, just say the word.”
“I’d be lying if I said I know what I want. What do you normally do before
a tense mission?”
“Personally, I hype myself up in the mirror, remind myself that I’m the best, and usually blast the radio. I’ve never had much time to sit down and organize music, pick out my favorite songs and what not, so I just listen to what’s on.”
“Let’s try that. Not too loud—I’m not trying to have a headache by the time we get there.”
Arielle giggled. “Of course not, I wouldn’t blast it too long. Keep in mind my mission prep is normally a few minutes, not a whole two hours.”
She powered the radio from the steering wheel controls, getting static at first, then pressing through to other stations until finding one she liked with The Weeknd singing something about blinding lights—Martin wasn’t sure.
Arielle bobbed her head as they reached the freeway, not afraid to drive 90 miles per hour as they sped away from Winnipeg. Martin watched her dance in her seat, envious of how much joy she seemed to have under the circumstances. Watching her reminded him of Izzy, and what she might have been like if still alive today. She too loved music and singing, dancing around the living room and down the hallway just to get a laugh from Martin and Lela. Those memories seemed like an entirely different lifetime, and Martin supposed maybe humans did have multiple lives during their time on this planet, always one tragedy away from changing the trajectory of their future.
He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open to the picture of his daughter. Arielle might be the one taking him to the mission, but Izzy would be the one to take him through it, and, hopefully, to the finish line. He tried his best to make this mission personal, even though it was much bigger than him. A world without Chris or a Revolution just might allow him to safely travel back in time and have the encounter with Izzy that he so desperately desired. The thought of those bullets firing at him in 1995 was enough to stir up the rage within, bringing with it a renewed desire and dedication to see this mission through its end.
Time of Fate (Wealth of Time Series #6) Page 15