Skyline

by Zach Milan

  “Why would you send the Council here? Why not to the dawn of time?” Not that he wanted New Yorkers to suffocate in empty space.

  “They did this to our age,” Ana said with venom.

  “They did?” In the distant future, she’d said something different. That the Council had just stranded her people and that had made history change. Maybe she was just trying to convince him that the Council was evil.

  Ana clenched a fist. “They deserve to suffer through the coming ice they fled.”

  “The Council, sure. And them?” Stunned New Yorkers staggered out of the few remaining doorways. Behind the glass of the library, librarians and patrons stared with open mouths. Another wobbling slice of a New York building fell to the ground beside the Council’s towering spire.

  Ana kept walking. “A necessary cost.”

  “It’s not.” Monroe shuddered. How could she ever become Leanor? That woman was kind and caring. Leanor gave her life to save millions. “It’s not necessary. Even one extra person”—two extra people—“is too many. Can’t you see that?”

  “Oh, that’s what this is about. Getting me to regret it?”

  They passed from Manhattan’s asphalt onto streets that were shinier, slicker. Monroe’s shoes still gripped the roads of this era, but they were composed of dark, rough glass. Cracks ran along the glass, but still encased within was a ribbon of metal running up the street, splitting into thirds at the next intersection. It could’ve been a display, if there were power. As Monroe looked at the buildings lining the street, he saw more panels. Everywhere dark glass waited to be illuminated. Only a few lenses nearby, twisting to watch, seemed alive with power.

  No doubt leading back to the Council’s powered home.

  “So why did you make the Blast smaller, once we stopped you?” Monroe asked as Ana ducked into another street. “That wasn’t regret?”

  “The Blast’s initial size was an error,” Ana said, her voice clipped. “There were four devices—Cornerstones—that brought the Council forward. So my bombs targeted each of the Cornerstones. Except somehow my bombs got implemented along the four trajectories. I fixed it. It wasn’t regret. It was a recalculation.”

  Lightning flickered in the clouds above, a roiling thunder following seconds later.

  “Now hurry,” Ana said, not looking at the clouds at all. “We’ve gotta get out of sight.”

  Monroe followed without arguing, but didn’t understand why she wasn’t fighting. In the future—in his past—she’d fought Charlotte without a problem. What changed? Why not fight here? Unless she feared that a fight would call the Council’s attention.

  Well, Monroe would use that safety. If Ana wanted her astrolabe, she’d have to answer for what she’d done. Convince him that she was finished bombing New York City.

  The shimmering streets wound around, not following a grid like Manhattan’s did. They bent, curved, but Ana never slowed down, never led them back. She knew this city. The cracks in the glass grew deeper and wider, leading them through crumbling buildings. The air was a little foggy, almost greenish. The more they ran, the more Monroe coughed.

  Above, more pathways connected each skyscraper at several levels. In Monroe’s distant future, he’d seen New York become a spiderweb of walkways. But this was more of a dense mass of bundled wires. If Ana’s bombs had looked like this, Bill and Charlotte would never have saved New York City.

  The architecture shifted as they ran. The glass siding would be stone in one district, wood in another. And between the districts that Monroe guessed were from various times in this city’s history, the styles blended together. Intricate carvings of wood surrounded by sheer stone, almost brutalist in nature. Though he found himself using the terms he’d learned in college, nothing quite fit. Carvings pressed out of walls; impossibly tall doors spanned the height of a skyscraper; windows cut into the ground. It felt more like stepping onto an alien planet than visiting the past.

  As he stared up at a thick chunk of metal extruding from a building, Ana gripped Monroe’s shirt and pulled him off the street. Through a set of arched doors. Inside, the walls reached up and up, sleek and smooth, until reaching a point in the dark distance.

  “Okay,” Ana said. “Now we’re safe. Give me back the device.”

  Monroe backed away. If this was out of the Council’s sight, she’d fight here. Now. “No way.” He cinched the bowling-ball bag tight around his shoulder. “You’re going to take me to whatever Liberty Island is in your time. Once we get Bill and Charlotte, then you get the astrolabe back.”

  “The Council will be there, y’know.” Ana spread her legs. Ready to run.

  Monroe almost wanted to fight. He could feel Bill’s words bubbling out of him. “So all of this is okay with you? Not just the Council trapped, but thousands of New Yorkers? My friends?” He balled his hands into fists. “You’re so scared of the Council, but you don’t fucking care what happens to anyone else, do you? You stranded millions of New Yorkers here, once. Now you’ll strand the two people who forced you to reconsider? To ‘recalculate’?”

  Ana flew at him, her fists slamming against his chest before he even had time to react. “You have no fucking clue what the Council did to me!” she screamed. “You saw my scars, but did you know that they imprisoned me?” She dodged and weaved around him as he turned. All his focus was on keeping the bag safe. “They forced me to make those fucking Cornerstones. Told me that they’d left our people to rot in history. That it was my fault. And the thing is?” She slung another punch straight into his jaw, but Monroe remained standing.

  Ana stepped away, breathing hard. “It is my fault. Is that what you wanted to hear? It’s my fucking fault. But I’m saving your time by keeping the Council out.”

  “No.” Monroe turned as if he wasn’t in pain and walked to the door. “We’re saving our time by stopping you.”

  Ana gripped his shoulder before he could leave. “Don’t. Please.”

  Monroe jerked his shoulder away and stepped into the growing fog. “You want to escape? To protect yourself like always? Well, then here’s your only chance: help me find Charlotte and Bill.”

  She matched his glare, chewing on her lip, considering his deal and, more than likely, trying to come up with an escape route. “Fine.” Whatever had changed her mind, he’d better be cautious. “This way.”

  They began their jog down the city.

  Ana started up a few conversations, but Monroe shut her down. He hadn’t risen to the fight like she wanted, and he wouldn’t let her distract him now. As she mocked his love life, claimed Charlotte and Bill wouldn’t be there, told him the Council would imprison them all, he kept his jaw set.

  Rain fell, clearing the fog, but it was too warm. Almost a hot, sticky rain. But they didn’t slow until Ana led him to a long, narrow bridge leading to a high hill in the distance. If she hadn’t been leading him astray, this would be Battery Park and, in the distance, Liberty Island. The glacier that would come through would make the East and Hudson Rivers, but right now there wasn’t any water around.

  “You don’t fool me, you know,” Monroe said.

  “Fool you?”

  “You pretend they don’t matter. New Yorkers. But you visited Nellie Bly. You saw the Lusitania. I bet that before you met us, you went ice skating where the Plaza would be. You even saw Lady Liberty’s pedestal being built. Right? There’s only one person I know who would do all of that. And I know why.”

  “Who?” Ana laughed. “The Leanor you met? She’s gone, kid.”

  “Me,” Monroe said. “When Charlotte unveiled that astrolabe, when she showed us what it really did, I just wanted to see history. Not stop some mad bomber. I wanted to see everything, because I love the city.” He surveyed her. “You do, too.”

  Ana’s sneer proved him right. She ran along the bridge, but Monroe just watched her platinum hair bob for a moment. Maybe he wouldn’t save only Charlotte and Bill, thousands of New Yorkers, but he’d do what Charlotte wanted from the very
beginning.

  Save Leanor.

  Monroe jogged to catch up with her and said, “Lead the way, Leanor.”

  She snorted, but he liked pretending she was already his friend. Like she’d chosen to lead him to Charlotte and Bill instead of being forced.

  They stepped from the long, thin bridge onto a wide, grassy hill. The streets spidered away, winding around dozens of enormous mansions. Glittering from their colored glass facades and shimmering metal roofs, every surface spoke of opulence. Ridged columns holding up pointlessly wide roofs. Windows taking the place of entire walls. Brittle brown lawns wrapping around the entire house. These were houses for the rich.

  Ana led on, winding along the still-empty streets. The hot rain became suddenly cold, then fell slower as it turned to snow. Lightning crackled above. Thundersnow. Monroe clutched his arms, hoping they’d reach Charlotte and Bill soon. If this was what careless time travel did to a world, then they’d have to be vigilant.

  Once they stopped Ana, they’d have to make sure the Council never revived time travel. They’d have to keep going to keep New York City safe.

  At another house, this one small, tucked between two larger mansions, Ana’s pace slowed to a walk. She crossed the lawn and swung the door wide.

  Inside, the floor was plush with carpet, but around the edges, stone held the low couches, the shelves. Lights almost poured from the floor. Again, Monroe couldn’t find the words. The couch was strangely tiered, the shelves curvy lines, and the ceiling … He shook his head, following Ana into a room.

  “Here,” she said, and stood aside.

  The room was unremarkable—with everything Monroe had seen, this looked just as odd. Plants growing from the walls, water covering the edges of the floor. “How can you be so sure?” Monroe asked. His compass was all screwy; this could be Staten Island for all he knew.

  Ana gave an impatient huff. “I designed them, remember? I told the Council where to place their Cornerstones. When they used them, I set my bombs to suck the Council back and then to blow up the Cornerstones. So they’d never be able use my designs. But when you stopped me, I figured it was fine. The Council’d still be trapped, their Cornerstones stuck in your time.”

  Leaning down to the floor, Ana grabbed a piece of evidence. An orb attached to a computer board. “Isn’t it obvious that this is where your friends were?”

  “Then where are they?” They should’ve been there. “Did we save them already? In our future, in their past?”

  Ana threw Monroe an eye roll. “That’s not how it works. Nothing changes until you change it.”

  “So where are they?” But in a corner, Monroe saw a lens watching their argument. Keeping him safe from Ana, perhaps, but also endangering Charlotte and Bill.

  “Give me the device; I’ll take you to the exact moment they arrived.”

  Monroe couldn’t hold in his laugh. “I think I can manage.” He pulled Charlotte’s astrolabe out and drew an insignia on it. “How long ago?”

  Ana crossed her arms. “When do I get that back?”

  “When we find them,” he said, but he didn’t meet Ana’s eyes. He couldn’t let her go, not until he was sure she wouldn’t set another bomb.

  “When really? What are you waiting for? For us to get home? For me to swear not to place another bomb? For me to welcome the Council with open arms? Or, no, it’s still about regret. You want me to apologize. To become best friends with your sister? To hug you and sob about how sorry I am.”

  “Something like that,” he said as he spun the lights backward in his hand. He couldn’t tell Ana how right she was. He hated that this was what everything boiled down to. He tried to watch the dates shining from the astrolabe on the floor. So far in the past, the four-digit year readout was worthless. But he just watched the clock, spinning it back a little over an hour. Surely that was all they had been running for.

  He and Ana watched the hour rewind, but Charlotte and Bill never materialized, never walked backward into the room. Time slowed, and Monroe kept his fingers on the astrolabe to send them farther back in time.

  Then he heard voices from outside. The low bass of Bill, the firm tone of Charlotte.

  Monroe dropped the astrolabe into his bag, then walked out in time to see Charlotte and Bill step outside into the foggy air. The door swung shut behind them. Monroe raced over, gripped the door handle, but a hand on his shoulders stopped him from pulling it open. “Don’t,” Ana whispered.

  He spun, keeping her away from the bag, but that wasn’t her focus. Instead, she tiptoed to the door and peered through a peephole. Monroe frowned, but stepped to one side of the door, looking out the window just in time to see three figures appear out of nowhere. He flattened himself against the doorframe, out of sight.

  The Council had arrived.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  THE COUNCIL

  1,803,241 BCE

  Before Monroe could even consider pulling out the astrolabe, two members of the Council—Paris and Cora—flickered from their spots and were suddenly behind Charlotte and Bill. Paris took Bill, gripping the man’s arms before he could react, spreading Bill’s legs wide, then slowly running his hand over ever inch of fabric. Pulling out Bill’s wallet, keys, and chapstick before tossing them back. The woman with red hair did the same with Charlotte and, once satisfied, they walked back.

  Now Monroe clutched the astrolabe in the bag. He could go back. Stop Charlotte and Bill from exiting that door. The Council would never know. But beside him, Ana was shaking her head, even as she kept on eye to the peephole.

  “Why?” Monroe hissed, but Ana continued shaking her head. He tried thinking it through. The Council had already seen Bill and Charlotte. And if Monroe leapt back, they would see him, too. Chase them down like they had Ana. But she got free once …

  Biting his lip, Monroe peered through the window, instead, keeping his head below a dried brown plant.

  Once the two were beside the tall, white haired man—Alek, Leanor had named him—he stepped forward, murmuring something. Monroe slowly inched the window open to hear. Warm, sticky air whistled at his face, but he didn’t risk pushing it open farther. Alek smoothed his dark gray suit, touching his short goatee and saying something. It didn’t sound like English.

  Paris sneered from his position, but didn’t respond. His eyes didn’t have the same vindictive look as he’d had on the streets of the future. Nor the regretful look when he’d returned Charlie. Perhaps this Paris hadn’t met them yet.

  The woman with deep red hair raised an eyebrow and responded to Alek, her eyes never blinking. Cora wasn’t wearing a suit, but a slinky red dress that matched her hair. After a moment, her eyes flicked to Bill. Her ruby red lips smiled, head tilting down.

  Monroe caught himself before he laughed aloud. Was she actually trying to seduce Bill?

  Again, the pale man said something, louder, angrier. And then he touched his ear. “Perhaps you are New Yorkers, then?”

  Monroe’s jaw dropped. All along, he’d figured they were from the future. That, of course, they knew English. But now he saw how foolish that was. They didn’t speak English at all. It was technology allowing them to speak and understand. It made them ten times more frightening. If they could translate themselves on the fly, appear right in front of Bill and Charlotte the moment they stepped from the house, what else could they do?

  “Yes,” came Bill’s voice.

  With a curt nod, the woman explained something to the two men in their quick, rolling language. When she finished, she lifted an eyebrow, waiting. Paris grinned at whatever idea she’d presented, but the pale man’s eyes narrowed. “Leanor,” he said.

  Monroe shot a glance to Ana, who lifted an eyebrow.

  “We’re not with her,” Charlotte said. The words came out too quickly. An obvious lie. But she amended, stronger, calmer, “We’re here because we tried to keep her from destroying our city.” She exchanged a glance with Bill, who nodded.

  Charlotte had said, “Tried.�
� Could they know about the fifth bomb?

  For a moment, as Alek hissed at his companions, Monroe puzzled over it. But maybe it was a guess on their part. They’d seen Ana escape. The Council was here, too. Of course there’d been another bomb.

  “How?” Cora asked, her voice snapping Monroe’s attention back.

  “Yes, how?” Alek asked. “How could you?”

  That explained why they’d chosen 2016 to appear in New York City. They must’ve figured that no one could take them on there. New York had technology, but it hadn’t advanced so much that the Council couldn’t take over.

  “He thinks we’re stupid,” Charlotte mused. Her tone wasn’t disdainful, but amused. Exactly how she’d described the way Paris spoke to her. She drew herself up, squaring her broad shoulders. She laughed.

  “Time travel, duh,” Bill said, matching Charlotte’s breeziness. “We learned what this Leanor of yours was doing. We stopped her, but got caught in her Blast. And if you’re still here, she must have come up with an alternate plan when we stopped the four bombs she’d placed around the city.”

  Paris’s eyes widened. “Four?”

  “Sure,” Bill replied. “Here, on opposite sides of Manhattan, and one in the upper middle of the island.”

  Paris gasped. “The Cornerstones.” Then, pressing his ear, he spoke to his companions, arms wide and gesticulating.

  At the word, Monroe saw Ana’s grin widen. The Council was realizing how she’d stopped them. Why they shouldn’t have tortured her to invent their way out. They’d given her the exact tools she needed to stop them.

  “Paris, go,” the white-haired man directed.

  Paris nodded, and disappeared. It was weird to see the man who’d stolen Charlie so easily cowed.

  Alek turned back to Charlotte and Bill now, his voice sickly sweet. “So you saved your city. How noble.”

  “That was our plan as well, right, Alek?” Cora asked. “We wished to save your city, too.”