A Chronetic Perspective (The Chronography Records Book 2)

by Kim K. O'Hara

  The attendants at the prison had warned her about this. His implant wasn’t completely calibrated yet, and he’d have bouts with intense emotions while his body adjusted to the stimuli. The emotions were no less real to him, though, and they advised her to respond compassionately.

  His preliminary diagnosis of an empathetic deficiency had tested true. The prison doctors said it was probably congenital, but fortunately, it was a treatable condition. Empathy could be provoked through the implant, but he would need people around him, to model appropriate ways of responding to what he was feeling.

  They’d compared him to a child, emotionally, but Jored had far more stability than her uncle did now. It would take some getting used to.

  “Found them. Do you want to hold on to these two, keep them separate? Or would you rather I did?”

  “I guess I should do that.” She gritted her teeth and held out her hand, closing her fingers over the two memory rods. Jored looked up and peeled the headphones off his head.

  Uncle Royce sighed. “I’m just so relieved that Marielle won’t have to face this.”

  “Because you put her in the car, didn’t you, Uncle Royce? She didn’t do anything wrong, did she?”

  Kat almost choked. She exchanged a quick glance with Marak. They were going to have to sit Jored down for a little talk. Especially when her uncle was adapting to the implant, he would need to be careful with what he said.

  She looked back at her uncle to apologize. But now the tears were flowing faster than his blinks could clear. He wiped at his eyes with a fingertip. “How did you know? It’s the one I regret the most, even though they told me to do it.”

  Kat held up the memory rods. “These?”

  He nodded. “Marielle doesn’t know.”

  “She needs to.”

  Jored reached over to tap him on the shoulder. “You’ll tell her, won’t you, Uncle Royce? So she can smile again? She doesn’t smile very much. She’s sad all the time, like you were before we came to get you. And Lexil won’t even talk to her now.”

  That broke him. He buried his face in his hands. His body shook, but his sobs were almost silent.

  Marak cleared his throat. “Let’s save this conversation for later, shall we? We all have a lot to deal with. Royce, why don’t you join us for lunch and we can take the time to figure out what to do.”

  Kat’s eyescreen signaled an incoming call, and she blinked to accept it.

  “Dani? I thought you were going to be out of range of a signal.”

  “We were. But we got zapped by an EMP gun. Stalled out in the water. It wasn’t supposed to fire, because of Althea’s wrist ID, but it did. Maybe her implant was damaged when she fell. I don’t know.”

  “Are you still out by the island? How are you able to make this call?”

  “We paddled back to where we could get a signal. This boat’s motor is fried. I’m glad we didn’t decide to fly in. Detective Rayes is on a call to the Shore Patrol.”

  “Do you need help?”

  “Hang on, he just got done. Let me see.” She heard conversation in the background, but she couldn’t make out the words. “He says the Shore Patrol boats are all out on another call that might take several hours. Offered to send helicars for us, but we’d have to climb up rope ladders, which would be hard for me with these sheaths. I called because I thought, if you were in town, you might be able to use your uncle’s boat to come get us and tow this one back. Any chance of that?”

  Kat glanced at her uncle. His eyes were fixed on her. “Blake Island?”

  She nodded.

  “What do they need?”

  “They need a tow. Well, really, they need to get to the island, but a tow will work for now.”

  “I can get them to the island.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “I have property there. Just take me to my boat.”

  “We’re almost there,” Marak said.

  “Dani? Did you hear that? Tell them we’re coming. Uncle Royce can take you all the way to the island.”

  The trip from West Seattle Marina to the stranded boat took twenty minutes. The discussion about what to do with the stranded boat and who would go on to the island took another 30 minutes, necessitating several more calls to the Shore Patrol and the Police Station. Finally, at 1110, it was settled. Officer Spar agreed to stay until the Shore Patrol could send a tow boat. The rest, including Kat, Marak, and Jored, would go to the island.

  “But you’re not leaving the boat. Do you understand, young man?”

  “Aww, Dad.” His face fell. “I haven’t ever gotten to go.”

  “You’ll see plenty. This is official police business, and we’re not interfering, got it?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Thank you for the ride,” Dani said, touching Uncle Royce lightly on the shoulder.

  “Of course, my dear. I’m so happy to be able to help.”

  Kat could tell he meant it.

  Althea clambered over the side. “This is all well and fine, but how are we going to get to the meeting point? The other boat was a convertible. Are we going to have to walk? We’ll never make it to the cottages in time.” She folded her arms and glared at Uncle Royce, as if he were to blame for the whole fiasco.

  Kat bristled, but Uncle Royce didn’t appear to notice Althea’s tone. “Unless they’ve been moved, I have a helicar in the lot there, right where we’ll be docking. I have two, come to think of it. You won’t have to walk.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Flammability

  COTTAGE #5, Blake Island, WA. 1130, Tuesday, September 19, 2215.

  The prisoner picked up the last bite of a poppy-seed muffin and savored it, enjoying the buttery flavor, before finally swallowing. He had drawn out the meal—starting with an egg and cheese omelet, progressing through a fruit plate, and ending with the muffin—to last as long as he could. It was magnificent. He didn’t understand the change, but this was the third meal that rivaled what he might order at a restaurant. He regretted consuming the first so fast, but he had not made that same mistake at dinner.

  For the first time, he had had a full night’s sleep, and this morning he had found a clean set of clothing and towels and real soap for a shower, which had actually had warm water.

  The whole thing was suspicious. He had heard stories of kidnap victims being converted, allying themselves with their kidnappers in a weird twist of allegiances, through this kind of contrasting treatment. If his captor had the illusion that he could be turned like that, he would soon find out he was mistaken. His intent was to survive this ordeal and make it out. To live. To see his daughter.

  But he hadn’t seen his captor at all today. No viewwall appearances, no intrusive noise. Whatever he intended with this altered approach, it was a mystery.

  The silence was broken by a click-clack-click sound, followed by another. It was coming from the front door, which was securely locked. Only his captor would have the means to open it. He ducked into the hallway to watch from the relative darkness.

  The old-style door swung open on a hinge.

  “Ah, there you are. Hiding in the hallway? Sorry to intrude like this, but we’re going to have to do this part together.”

  His captor carried a brown cloth, wrapped around several lumpy things. Now the prisoner regretted not standing behind the door. He could have slammed it into the man and possibly escaped.

  “Are you thinking you could get out here? Don’t bother. There’s a second door just outside. It’s locked too. And anyway, it won’t matter soon.”

  How did he get in? Were there keys or other access devices hidden somewhere in his clothing?

  His captor closed the door. It latched with a solid clunk. Then he backed into the main room and set the items down on the table. The brown cloth unfolded and the prisoner took stock: paper face masks, a small dark bottle, lighter, fuel. A timing device. He assembled them quickly, set a switch. The man meant to light a fire. Did he intend to kill them both? Perhaps he
didn’t have a way out at all, not even for himself! The paper face masks gave him some hope that he intended to survive.

  “Your daughter is on her way here. I’ve been tracking her. I made certain she’d be coming along with the ransom money. Good news—you’ll be able to see her soon. I’ve unblocked the window in the entry way here so you can watch them arrive.”

  The prisoner glanced at the window. From this angle, he couldn’t see outside. Was she here yet? He longed to press his face against the small window, watch for her. Warn her that she might be in danger. Warn her to flee.

  Say goodbye.

  But he couldn’t, not if there was the slightest chance of escaping himself through the front door.

  He could always warn her from outside, if he got there.

  “Now, here’s how it’s going to go. You have no way of changing even the smallest part of this, and it will go better for your daughter if you don’t try.”

  He nodded, still watching for an opening.

  “We’re going to have a little fire in here. It will trap us for a bit, but I’ll make sure it’s contained back by the kitchen, at least at the beginning. You’ll be most comfortable here in the main room, although you might decide on the bedroom.” He paused, thinking.

  “I’ll leave that up to you. Soon, the smoke will get thick, and it’ll reach the bedroom last. If you stay out here, you might decide to break the window, try to get some fresh air. Of course, that will feed the flames, make it easier to burn to death. If you resist that avenue, it will be the gases that kill you in the end. Carbon monoxide, cyanide. They say it starts with coughing, trying to clear your airways, and then vomiting. In the end, the hot gases sear your lungs. It’s not pleasant. I’ve got a filter mask there on the table that will make you a little more comfortable, when that time comes. You should take it now, and then back away. The timer is set to go off in just a few minutes. Back away now!”

  He grabbed the filter mask and ran to the hallway, not knowing how big the explosion would be, how far the flames would reach. He felt the heat as the fuel burst into flame, and the room was soon swirling with black smoke. He dropped to the floor, knowing the air would be clearer there, fumbling with the mask, placing it over his mouth and nose, stretching the elastic to anchor it to his head.

  He felt woozy. Could the smoke be affecting him already? Too late, he realized the mask was drugged. He saw the inner door opening and lunged for it, but fell to the floor, next to the window, where, true to his captor’s promise, he saw his beloved daughter, one last time.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Insularity

  THE COTTAGES, Blake Island, WA. 1150, Tuesday, September 19, 2215.

  Because the helicars could hold only five passengers each, Detective Rayes took charge and split them up. “Littleton, you and I will take Dani and Royce Hunter. And Hunter, I know you’re cleared, but I’m still keeping my eye on you, so don’t cause any trouble. Ms. Morgan, you and Darry—”

  “Call me Doyle.”

  “I’ll call you whatever I please. You two will take the ransom money in the other car. We’ll meet at the Cottages just around the coast to the east.”

  Althea nodded. “We stayed there once before Daddy built the house here.”

  “We’ll stay with the boat,” Kat said.

  “You sure will. I’m sorry you’re here at all, but you keep that boy of yours far away from the action. We don’t know how desperate the situation is.”

  Marak rested his hand on his son’s shoulder, gripping it lightly. “He’ll be right here with us.”

  “But I wanna watch.” Jored fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and back again. “Can we see anything from here?”

  “You may be seeing more than you want to when we come back,” the detective said. “Ideally, we’ll have freed Althea’s father and have his kidnapper in custody.”

  “Cool.” Jored sat back down to wait.

  After everyone was seated, the helicars lifted off and traveled along the shoreline.

  Minutes later, as they neared their destination, Dani could see smoke rising from the beach ahead.

  “Is that fire?”

  At the same time, she heard Althea scream from the other car.

  “Yes, and that’s where we’re heading.”

  Both cars landed quickly. Royce stayed behind to report the fire. The rest of them rushed toward the smoke.

  Just as they arrived, a man stumbled from the door of Cottage #5, choking and coughing. His head was down and he had a filter mask on his face. Was this her father, after so many years? Dani ran toward the man, half aware that Althea was doing the same thing. They got to him at the same time, and he lifted his head.

  “Daddy!” Althea sobbed. “I was so worried!”

  Drummond Morgan wrapped his arms around his daughter and held her tenderly. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  Dani pulled on his arm, “Where’s my father? Is my father in there?” She couldn’t hear his answer over the sirens.

  A fire truck and two ambulances pulled up. Soon water was streaming through the air toward the building. One of the firemen yelled, “Is there anyone inside?”

  Morgan shouted back, with coughs punctuating his words. “Yes! Adams—cough—he’s in there. The man who—cough—kept me prisoner. Out cold. Can’t have—survived.” He stumbled back, wheezing, and sank to the ground. “Dizzy. Sit with me?”

  “Of course, Daddy.”

  Two medics crowded past Dani. One gave Morgan oxygen and the other checked him over with a scanner. “He’ll be okay,” she heard him telling Althea.

  The firemen had crowbars out and were working on gaining entrance. Dani saw they’d broken through the door. She ran toward the building. Had she waited all these years just to see her father die?

  There! They were coming out with a man on a stretcher, pulling off a filter mask that covered his face, administering oxygen. Dani tried to get close, but they shouldered past her, rushing him to the ambulance. “Is he alive? Tell me something! Is he alive?”

  The ambulance doors were closing, but one of the medics looked up. “Do you know this man?”

  “Yes! He’s my father!”

  “Ride with us.”

  As she stepped inside, she glanced out toward the others. She caught Uncle Royce’s eye. He’d tell Kat what happened. And then the doors closed.

  “Is he breathing?”

  “Not on his own. But his heart is beating, and we’re not giving up yet.”

  BLAKE ISLAND HOSPITAL, Blake Island, WA. 1410, Tuesday, September 19, 2215.

  Dani paced back and forth in the waiting room of the tiny island hospital. Two floors, one operating room. She didn’t even know if they had a nanotech department.

  But at least they have a hospital. She didn’t want to think about what would have happened to him if they’d had to negotiate the whole security protocol before they got him help. At least they have that.

  And they hadn’t come out to tell her they’d lost him. She clung to the hope in the medic’s last words: “We’re not giving up yet.”

  She wished he’d opened his eyes just once in the ambulance. She wanted so badly to let him know she was here, that’s she’d missed him, that she loved him and understood now why he left and forgave him. She even forgave him for the kidnapping. She knew he’d never do something like that without being driven to it. Living with Morgan’s threats all these years must have pushed him over the edge.

  “But we’ll get you back, Dad,” she whispered. “Just live through this.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Verity

  RIACH LABORATORIES, Alki Beach, Seattle, WA. 1320, Tuesday, September 19, 2215.

  Lexil peered closer at the display. “So most of the anomaly has resolved itself?”

  “That’s what we’re seeing,” Patyl answered. “The only remaining ripple is out on Blake Island in Puget Sound.”

  “Well, that’s good. But what’s out there, I wonder? Thi
s has been quite a beast to track down and tame. I thought getting Royce out of prison was going to do it. Have you documented the latest readings?”

  “Not yet. Wanted to show you first. But I’ll write them up now.”

  Lexil nodded. “Thanks.”

  He wondered if Dani was going to come back in today. She had helped him so much, just by listening to his frustrations about Marielle. He couldn’t tell anyone else what he’d found out, shouldn’t have told Dani either. But he trusted her.

  He thought back to the way they’d parted yesterday. No, back a little further than that. When she’d been so ready to give him a hug—that was what had started this warm feeling of hope sprouting inside him. He wrapped his arms around himself, reliving the moment.

  His eyes drifted to the floor and caught a hint of color between counters. What was that? He bent down to look, and recognized the baby bracelet from the day before. Hadn’t Dani wrapped that around her fingers? How had she dropped it here?

  And then he remembered. She had laid it down on top of the baby blanket when she went to put her coat on, just before she and Kat had left with Jored. If it fell between the counters…

  He bent down to look again, and there, hiding between the two cabinets, was the baby blanket. He worked his fingers through and pinched the edge between them to pull it out. It took him two tries, but finally he had the blanket in hand. No wonder it had been hard to spot. The color had gone mostly transparent from being out of the light so long.

  Dani will be pleased. I’ll give her a call so she’ll be sure to stop by to get it.

  As he rolled it up to poke it through the bracelet, he saw something hard in the corners, peeking between blue and white threads of the binding. What were those, stones? Yes! And minerals were among the best materials for video and audio readings.

  It took him ten minutes to extract them from the blanket and get them in an observation box for scanning. Dani would be a lot faster at this, of course, but Detective Rayes hadn’t wanted her to be involved.