by Julie Cross
I gave a quick nod and felt my face heating up at the mention of conception, though this was a very technical scientific version that didn’t seem to involve contact between the two parents at all. But still, my mind couldn’t help but wander to thoughts of more traditional methods, and I hoped with all my power that these thoughts wouldn’t show up in the mission report.
“What we’re going to do today,” Grayson said, “is supplement the fathers’ specimens with that of a man carrying the Tempus gene in your present.”
“Do they know this?” I asked. “The parents? Won’t they know that there’s no genetic link between the real father and the child, at least after it’s born?”
Grayson nodded his approval. “Very good. You’re a smart one. All my patients sign a clause as part of our research program. The procedure cost is more affordable for a larger percentage of families, and in return, we get their permission to use a substitute specimen as needed to increase the probability of successful conception.”
“In other words,” Thomas added, “we tell the families that the father’s semen has a low sperm count, whether it does or not, and they consent to a donor because having a child is that important to them. Something I can’t even fathom, but it’s a very useful motivation for the purpose of our experiment.”
I was so blown away by the complexity of this project and the importance of our missions that I barely spoke for the rest of the trip. I watched Grayson carefully as he went through the steps to prepare each specimen for the procedure.
Later, when Thomas and I returned to our apartment, after being debriefed in the White House by Dr. Ludwig and his team, I finally asked him the question that had been on my mind since first being introduced to Grayson.
“So, is Grayson’s mission a long one? Like a few months? He seemed very comfortable in 1987.”
“He’s been on the same mission in the past for two years and hasn’t done a time jump since,” Thomas said. “Before that, he had a bad habit of using his time travel for personal reasons. He jumped too often and sustained an injury. His last jump for this current mission nearly killed him. The risk of bringing him back was too much. Dr. Ludwig decided that he needed to stay and be the field man for the Tempus gene experiment. He still has a chance to heal; it’s very possible he will in a year or two.”
“Wow … I don’t even—”
Thomas waved my response off as if to say there was no need to feel sorry for him. Maybe because he did it to himself? Or maybe because he was happy in 1987? How could he enjoy living in that chaotic and dangerous world?
“Now we need to verify our impact,” Thomas said, opening my handheld computer and holding it out for me. “What was that year I mentioned earlier? The first detection of the Tempus gene?”
“2234,” I said right away.
“Correct.” He pointed to the tiny screen in front of me. “Look it up, again.”
I typed in the question and nearly dropped the computer onto the hard floor. “2208 … how … I mean … we did this? Changed the date by twenty-six years?”
Thomas’s face split into a wide grin. “Yes, we did this. This is why you’re here, Blake. Do you understand how important you are now? How much of an impact you can have on creating a future that is bigger and better than every man and woman in 1987 could ever imagine?”
All I could do was nod and try to hide my shock. Could I really be that special? That important? Me, the fourth son of Jessica and Stephen? A hero to my entire country?
And I knew right then I’d do anything to make sure I didn’t let them down. This was too important.
* * *
“So, that’s what Grayson meant when he said he’d been a doctor in two different centuries,” I said. “I was born there, you know, at NYU Medical Center. Me and Courtney both, obviously. Wouldn’t it be so weird if Grayson was running around the hospital at the same time as Dr. Melvin?”
“Dr. Melvin?” Blake said, suddenly looking over at me, now seated in the only chair in the room. “Andrew Melvin?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” I said. “Why? You know him, right? The creator of experiment Axelle?”
I swallowed back the bile drifting up to my throat as the image of Dr. Melvin dead on the floor of his office replayed in my mind.
“Yeah, we’ve met once,” Blake said with a sigh. “Your friend Mason is a product of the Tempus Gene Project. He was conceived in Grayson’s lab and delivered by him. That’s why your side wanted Mason.”
“They put him in the CIA really young,” I said. “And he’s a genius, I thought that was why.”
Blake shook his head. “They knew he’d be a genius in your present long before he joined the CIA. Most likely his identity was revealed and they took him to protect him from being studied.”
“Wow, so everyone in your present is smarter? That’s so crazy,” I said. “Do you know any more spawn of the Tempus Gene Project?”
Blake’s face clouded with some emotion I couldn’t nail down. Grief or longing or just sadness. Whichever it was, it instantly made him look five years older.
“Just one,” he said.
My thoughts shifted suddenly and I eyed Blake with suspicion. “Wait a second … Grayson’s a doctor.”
“Uh-huh…?”
“If he wanted you to show me this memory file, he would have cut it out of your foot himself and stitched it up properly,” I said. “And wouldn’t he have wanted you to show it to my dad weeks ago?”
Blake’s mouth fell open. He was caught. Obviously, his being taken from home at fifteen to work for the government didn’t include any form of CIA-type training because he had made too many mistakes to count since we walked into this room.
A knock on the door startled both of us. As if to answer my question, Blake ejected the memory chip, hid it in the bottom of his sock, and stuffed his foot in there before putting the shoe back on. “Yeah…?”
He flung the door open and Lonnie stood there, taking in both of us. “I thought you preferred female lovers, Blake.”
He rolled his eyes and laughed at Lonnie, then turned to me. “We have a joke about this room. It’s the only truly private soundproof area on Misfit Island.”
“We’ve affectionately named it the reproduction room,” Lonnie said. “Because it’s ironic, or at least it was before all of you got here. See, Grayson prefers men, or one man, at least, who unfortunately died before Grayson was trapped here. Sasha is a ladies’ lady, which leaves only me and Blake to make special time-travel babies, but how old did we decide I am?”
“Fifty-one,” Blake said, giving her a very nonromantic smile.
“Fifty-one,” Lonnie repeated with a sigh. “Way too old to conceive with little man Blake here. And pretty soon, way too old to conceive with anyone.”
This conversation had gone in a wild direction but neither of them seemed at all uncomfortable with the subject matter.
Blake leaned on one elbow and looked Lonnie over. “I think you look great for fifty-one. I would guess thirty-five if I didn’t know better.”
She rubbed the top of Blake’s hair. “You are wonderful. Keep it up, kid. Also, Grayson needs your help skinning some fish.”
Blake and I headed out of the room and back outside. The cool air bit us right away and I couldn’t believe the shift in temperature.
“Sorry about that,” Blake said, as we walked toward the lake. “Grayson and Lonnie are so blunt and open about everything, I’ve become desensitized to all their jokes, though there is a root to them—the time-travel-baby concept. It’s not the first time Dr. Ludwig would instigate something like this, but if that was his original plan, he messed up big-time. He couldn’t have picked a worse combination of four people to achieve that goal. Other than the fact that Grayson can deliver a baby.”
Blake glanced around again, looking for any listening ears. “We’ll finish this soon, okay? I didn’t mean to trick you and I do have a point to all this.”
I decided that I wanted to wait aroun
d to find out what that purpose was. “Good.”
“Nobody’s going to care that I’m telling you these things but Grayson might suspect that I’m not coping with the reality of being stuck here. It’s not that exactly.” He looked around, as if checking for any sign of the others. “If anyone asks, I was impressing you with technology from your future in the control room, okay?”
“Got it,” I said with a nod.
As I walked toward the building where I’d been sleeping for the past ten days, I noticed Courtney and Mason sitting close together on the porch of a nearby cabin. Their heads were ducked and they were engaged in some kind of whispered conversation.
I eyed them suspiciously and then went inside to search the supply cabinets for tweezers since my hands were still covered in splinters from gripping the wood during the memory-gas episode. Exhaustion from my first day venturing out hit me hard and the second I found the supplies I needed, I collapsed onto my back on the bed, holding my hand in the air to pluck the bits of wood from it.
“There you are,” Dad said.
I looked up to see him standing in the doorway. He slid inside the room and shut the door. “Hey, Dad … I’m just removing the leftovers of the memory-gas drama.”
He sat in the chair across from the bed. “Yeah, that was pretty rough. Only my third experience with that.”
“And the first time you had to lie about what you saw?” I prompted.
He sighed, sinking back into his chair. “Yes.”
I set the tweezers down and sat up. “You saw Courtney, right?”
His face paled. “Yes.”
“I figured.” I let out a breath, knowing exactly why he had to lie. That wasn’t the moment to tell Courtney what had happened to her. What most likely would happen all over again. My heart ached at the thought and I forced it away for now. “I saw Adam dying.”
“I see,” Dad said. “You thought it might be hard on Holly, bringing up Adam?”
“Yeah.” I flopped onto my back again, staring up at the ceiling. “She was so weird when I found her in the cabin, totally aware. She wasn’t in the hallucination anymore and she didn’t want me coming near her. I don’t think her delusion included Adam’s dying, it just doesn’t fit with her reaction, but I’m not sure why.”
“She worked for the other side, Jackson,” Dad said. “She was trained by the other side. We can’t even begin to know what Eyewall put her through.”
I rolled on my side, staring at Dad. “You’re right.”
Maybe someone like Holly, trained as our enemy, would like to see the proof that Blake presented me with today? Maybe she needed to be in on our next secret session.
CHAPTER FIVE
DAY 11. MORNING
The world seemed brighter this morning, sharper, more focused. I noticed small movements and the difference in size in every object in the room in a way I couldn’t remember experiencing. It must have been the whole near-death episode that made me see, smell, and measure even more acutely.
I set out to find Blake to continue where we had left off yesterday. It wasn’t like I had anything more interesting to do.
He was outside by the lake with Holly. They were standing beside the water. Blake had Holly’s pistol pointed at a thick tree stump with a white T-shirt pinned to the front of it. She angled herself partially behind him and partially beside him. Her hands covered his, her arms around his back.
I couldn’t help thinking the first thought that popped into my head … the reproduction room … and then I wondered what had gone on during the ten days I was injured and stuck in bed. I froze in the grass, still quite a ways from them. Intense fury pumped through me. I squeezed my fists open and closed several times, trying to compose myself. Jealousy was not an option without doing what I swore to myself I wouldn’t do—tell Holly about us. Instead, I took in slow, deep breaths, calming myself down.
I was nearly under control until she reached down and touched his right leg, moving it back several inches.
“Bend your knees a little,” I heard her say as she returned to holding Blake’s hands. “Choke up on the gun more.”
“Choke up?”
“Slide your right hand higher,” she said. “When you fire it, the gun’s gonna twist sideways and then try to point up. You want to keep that from happening. This will give you a better grip.”
They stood still for several seconds and then finally Blake sighed and shook his head. “I can’t do it … I’m afraid of missing and the ricochet off the tree…”
So I was right about Blake’s not having any kind of agent training while working for the government in his present. Although with memory gas around, maybe they didn’t need guns in the future.
Holly took the gun from his hands and stepped sideways. “It’s okay. It’s hard for everyone the first time. I’ll show you one more time, okay?”
He watched her carefully as she took her stance, held the weapon out, and fired three times in a row, knocking three perfect holes through the center of the white T-shirt.
Blake ran his fingers through his hair. “It makes perfect sense. I’ve got the angles and distance all memorized, it’s just getting myself to actually pull the trigger.”
So his brain worked like mine. That was how it was for me the first time I picked up a weapon. I could measure the distance, see the angles, and project where it would land. It was like this door had swung open revealing a whole new layer to the world.
She smiled at him, causing me to scowl. “You’ll get it. I know you will.”
I’d had enough of this cozy moment and felt a strong need to break it up. “Nice shooting, Agent Flynn.”
They both jumped and then spun around to face me.
“Jackson … hey,” Blake said. “How are you feeling today? Still good?”
“You know…” I eyed the tree stump, staring at the bullet holes. “I’m not too bad of a shot myself if you’re looking for some help. They wouldn’t let me handle much else besides a gun in Tempest.”
“Is that right, Rambo?” Holly said.
My eyebrows lifted up, sensing a challenge. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Talk is cheap, Agent Meyer.” She slapped the gun into my palm and stepped out of the way.
“How are we doing on bullets? Are we going to run out?”
“We’ve got plenty of bullets. I’m not sure how, but your dad has a very generous supply, though it doesn’t appear that we’ll be putting them to any real use anytime soon, other than this pissing contest that I will most definitely win,” Holly taunted.
I laughed under my breath, knowing I was actually pretty damn good at this. But when I took my stance and held the gun out, there was an unmistakable tremble in my left hand.
Holly reached out and set her hand on top of the gun. “Don’t. It’s too risky. If you miss—”
“Yeah. I’m not stupid.” I let out an angry breath and handed the gun back to her. “Guess I know who’s getting picked last for the next mission.”
Holly rolled her eyes. “Come on, your brain practically exploded. Give it some time. I’m sure that screwed with your nervous system or something.”
Blake frowned. “Maybe it’s the medication?”
“It’s weird,” I said, looking at Blake and then Holly. “Because I feel better than ever, more observant. Like my aim should be better, but my hands aren’t on the same page as my head.”
“We should ask Grayson,” Blake said right away, frowning.
I shrugged. “I’ll ask him later. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about yesterday’s stuff.”
Blake’s eyebrows lifted. “Right. We should continue that.”
I glanced at Holly, then back at Blake. “And I think we should let Holly join us.”
“Why?” Blake said.
“She’s one of them. I’m guessing you’re going to show me how your roommate went to the dark side and she needs to see who she’s working for.”
“I’m one of who?” Holly asked. “Care to f
ill me in?”
“Eyewall,” Blake said with a defeated sigh.
I hadn’t really given him much of an option, but I knew this was the right choice. Holly put on a positive face most of the time, but I’m sure she was extremely conflicted given what Dad said last night about us not knowing what kind of hell Eyewall had put her through.
“Come on,” Blake conceded. “No one’s in the reproduction room right now.”
Holly and I followed Blake and she hissed in my ear, “Did he just say ‘reproduction room’?”
I shrugged and kept my eyes on Blake’s back. “I don’t know, maybe it means something else in this year?”
Let someone else explain that one to Holly.
AUGUST 3, 2874.
MEMORY EXTRACTED FROM HOST.
1987 looked just the same as I remembered from my first and only trip here with Thomas. Now I was here again on my first solo mission. This time I landed a week after my last visit. I ignored the pounding in my heart and the fear rushing through me as I weaved my way across the street, into the hospital, and down the stairs to the lab where Grayson worked alone.
“Blake! Good to see you again,” he said with a genuine smile. “How long has it been for you?”
“About six months,” I said as my heart slowed down, relieved to be in a near-empty and silent room.
“I thought you looked taller. Sixteen now, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.” My eyes swept over the lab, looking for brewing experiments or anything remotely interesting to make this first solo mission a little more exciting.
“What brings you to 1987 this time?” Grayson asked.
I jolted back to reality, remembering I was here for a reason. I reached into my coat pocket and removed the vacuum-packed bag of vitamins, holding them out for Grayson.
“Ah, B-29 supplements, of course.” He waved his gloved hand toward a cabinet against the back wall. “Would you mind stowing them away for me? I’ve just scrubbed up and don’t want to contaminate the specimen.”