I memorize everything he says, hoping Cedar can help me riddle through it and we can contact Price and let him know about the phenomenon of alternate dimensions tied to time rifts.
“When I started feeling weak, Mom asked a doctor to come look at me. He said my cells were degenerating, my organs shutting down. We weren’t sure if it was because of the rift explosion, but I hadn’t had any side effects in the alternate universe. That gave me the idea to go back there. Mom fired up the rift, and I stepped through it with the promise to return.
“But I didn’t land in the same abandoned building. I showed up in a man’s office, who pulled a gun on me before I could so much as take a step. His name was Orville Openshaw, and he owned the building and the scientific firm housed there: The Global Initiative.”
I’ve never heard of The Global Initiative, and all this talk of alternate universes connected to ours brings a sense of terror I’ve never experienced before. “Dad, how do these alternate universes impact ours?”
He slides me a dark look. “If people knew that portal existed, they could come here, infiltrate our world, the way I did to theirs.”
“How many different universes have you been to?” Saige asks.
“Four that your mother and I have documented. The nicest is Orville’s, which is nearly identical to our system of government. We call that one the Global Verse, since he owns the building where it’s housed.”
I narrow my eyes. “He doesn’t want to come here, and see what our verse is like?”
“Oh, he did. He has.”
I recoil from his words. “He’s come here? Why?”
“He’s here today, in fact,” Dad says, avoiding my gaze. “He’s at the fundraiser, because he wants to become your mother’s financial backer for her research.”
“Dad, no.” I don’t know why, but the very idea that Mom will get funded from someone in another reality feels ten shades of wrong.
“I couldn’t convince either of them it was a bad idea,” he says. “But I think it is. The overlapping between verses won’t go well, that I know.”
“Can he be here longer than twenty-four hours?” Saige asks, an intelligent question that impresses me.
“We’re not sure,” Dad says. “He’s never tried to stay longer. He’s never actually left this room before, and he’s never come here alone. I was waiting for him when I heard your voices.”
I lean against the cabinets, hardly able to stand and take in everything he’s said.
“What about the other verses?” Saige asks.
“Varying levels between the Neapolitan and the Global. In the Communist Verse, the US was conquered by Japan during the second world war. China is the world power, and it’s not a very nice realm either.” He glances over his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have come. We’ve learned that if someone waits on the other side of the rift, we can direct a walker to the right verse. I hope I can get back to Global.”
“Don’t you want to come home?” Saige asks, collapsing into the chair opposite Dad.
“I have every day since I was forced into the rift,” he says. “We’ve tried everything we can think of. Nothing’s worked, which is why Orville wanted to come here, see what your mother’s been doing.” He places his hand over Saige’s and smiles in that fatherly way that tugs at my heart. Shep does it when he gets older, and my stomach squeezes tight tight tight.
I remind myself that I need to get back to the future. Back to Price. Back to Shep, who isn’t well, and needs me.
“Do you think he’ll become her sponsor?” I ask.
Dad nods. “That was the plan.”
“Is this rift still tied to time?”
His expression shifts from open and honest and parental, to wary and tight. “Yes.”
I glance at the now-smooth surface. “So I can send a message to the future.”
“Theoretically.”
Which means yes.
My brain whirs. “Why can’t you program the rift to a certain dimension, the way we do to move to a specific year?”
“We haven’t discovered how to control it that way. It’s much more complex than moving through time in the same verse.”
I turn away from my dad, the man I’ve wanted to see more than any other over the past several years. The man I’ve tried to save over and over and over. An ache started behind my heart the moment I recognized him, and it won’t go away. I suddenly understand how Saige must feel, why she can’t seem to forgive me for leaving her behind without a single word of explanation.
Dad could’ve written us a note. Mom could’ve brought us here to see him. I would’ve taken once a year on my birthday. Anything would’ve been better than eight years of silence, eight years of missing my dad, eight years of this hole in my heart.
“Chloe—”
“I go by Cascade now.”
“Cascade, I did what I thought was best. I’m sure you understand that.” Dad’s hand lands heavy on my shoulder, but I don’t shrug it off. Because I do understand.
I take a steeling breath. “So what now?”
“Maybe you can come back to the lab and help your mother.”
“Not gonna happen, Dad.” I don’t want to explain why I just can’t work with her again, though I used to love coming to work with her, watching her experiments, offering my opinions.
“She wants to get back to her boyfriend,” Saige says, and I don’t need to turn and see the eyeroll that accompanies her words.
She’s right—or at least she was. Now, I want to figure out how to bring Dad back to this universe permanently. I want to find out if Price would come live here with me, or with this new possibility of an alternate universe, I wonder if we could move through this rift and land in the Global Verse and live happily ever after there.
A thought punctures my fantasies. “Do we exist in your verse?”
Dad remains silent, which doesn’t exactly settle my nerves.
“Dad?”
“Yes,” he says. “There are versions of all of us there.”
“Same names? Look-alikes?” I face him now so I can read his expression, get more information than just his words.
“No.” He glances at Saige, who’s staring at him with a horrified expression on her face. “Different names. Similar looks.”
“What’s your name in the Global Verse?” Saige stands and steps to my side, a sisterly show of support. I hook my pinky around hers and squeeze. Both of our parents have lied to us for years, and I remember all the reasons I left this timeline in the first place.
He paces away from us, clearly unwilling to give us these details.
“Are you Orville Openshaw?” I ask, barely scraping the words out.
“No,” he says. “I don’t interact with myself. Mom warned me what the consequences of that could be.”
“Then who is he?” I ask.
“Who are we?” Saige glances at me like I’m asking all the wrong questions. But I don’t care who I am in another universe. I care who’s interacting with Mom, and how that could alter the future Price lives in.
“It’s better if you don’t know about yourselves,” Dad says to Saige, softening his refusal to answer with a soft smile. “Or anything about the other verses.” He glances at me as he says it, his gaze sharpening like he doesn’t appreciate my questions.
I fold my arms. “Dad, he’s working with Mom. What if he hurts her? What if we can’t trust him? I just want to know who he is so I can make sure Mom stays safe.” If he hears the false note in my voice, he doesn’t show it. “I mean, you’re not here, so it’s up to me and Saige to make sure she doesn’t blow herself up.” I nudge my sister. “Right, Saige?”
“Right.” She shifts her feet back and forth, back and forth. “So who is he here, Dad? Do people act like themselves in other verses?”
“They’re similar, yes.”
“Who is he?” I press. “We can research him here and make sure things don’t go south.”
Dad clears his throat and rubs his h
ands over his face. When he looks at us again, he seems a decade older. “Your mother already knows who he is. She thinks he’s safe.”
I think of the computers she houses in that cabinet in the outer lab. “I’ll find out who he is whether you tell us or not.” I sit at the table. “In fact, I’ll just wait right here until he comes back, and ask him myself.”
Panic crosses Dad’s face, along with a healthy dose of annoyance. “You’re just as stubborn as I remember.”
I pull out my phone and flick it on like I’m bored. I start a text to Cedar to apologize. He’s my only friend here, and I can’t wait to tell him about this alternate universe business.
“Harlem Ryerson.”
I almost fall off my chair at Dad’s proclamation.
“Say again?”
“Orville Openshaw in the Global Verse is Harlem Ryerson in this one.”
“The same guy who funded Mom five years ago?” Saige asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “One and the same.” I have no idea what this will do to the Ryerson’s future, and my heart seizes as I think about Price and the potential dangers to his very existence.
Price
I LEAVE MY MOTHER HOME ALONE, no doubt working on the Circuit. Our entire reality has changed, but her workaholic tendencies? Not so much.
I take the train out to the suburbs, intending to go to Heath’s. I’m not in his social group anymore. I don’t have a single message from him. We don’t even know each other.
I briefly wonder if he’ll have retained some memories. Then I remember that Cascade said only the walker can remember, and Heath’s never walked. That I know of, at least.
Maybe he has. Maybe he’ll remember me. I head to his front door and knock, something I haven’t done in years. I usually hail him over a secure line and we meet in the backyard, or he opens the door when I get here, somehow knowing the exact second I arrive.
He answers the door and squints at me like he’s trying to remember something. “Can I help you?”
“You don’t remember me.” I’m not asking. “We used to be in the same social group. I was over here on Thanksgiving; we ran our usual fact-checking protocols.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Your brother, Cooper, went through the rift to act as the Black Hat.”
His eyes widen—could that part of this reality be untouched? If so, how? My entire life is different. I haven’t taken the same path in my educational tracks; I don’t have any of the same friends. Every little thing about my life is something I don’t know, I haven’t lived.
“How do you know where Cooper is?” Heath takes a step back and brings the door further closed in front of him, almost like a shield.
“We sent him through the rift. Me and you. Together.”
Heath shakes his head, his jaw set in that way that means he won’t listen even if he’s wrong. “I don’t know you, man. I think you should go.” He brings the door all the way closed, employing the locking fingerprint feature as if he suspects I might break it down and demand he remember.
I stride away from Heath’s, my head high and my sights set on Cascade’s house. If Shep can’t remember me, I don’t know what I’ll do. I know it’s a lost cause as soon as I round the corner. The door of Cascade’s old house isn’t red anymore. Someone has painted it yellow—and I know Shep wouldn’t have done that. A squeeze starts behind my eyes. Who’s taking care of him in this timeline? I promised Cascade I’d take care of her brother until she got back.
I continue toward the house, head up the stairs, and knock authoritatively on the door. While I’m waiting, a call comes in through my Circuit. I ignore it, but it refuses to be silenced. I don’t even have that feature anymore.
Frustrated, I answer the hail. “What?”
“You’re late for your digi-course,” a man’s voice scolds. “We’ve been waiting for ten minutes. You’re clearly alive, so why aren’t you with us?”
“Digi-course?” escapes my mouth uncensored. “What the hella is a digi-course?”
“Mister Ryerson,” the man says, his voice dripping with disdain. “Have you lost your memory?”
“Yes!” I yell. “Yes, okay? I went to bed last night in my own bedroom, and this morning I woke up on someone else’s couch!” I release my fingers from the fists I didn’t know they’d become. “So you’ll excuse me if I can’t make it to this digi-course crap right now.”
I hang up before the teacher can respond. I have no idea what the fall-out of that rant will be. I don’t care. I’m not planning on living in this reality long enough to find out.
Afternoon finds me on the train, heading downtown to The Global Initiative. I need to talk to my father. There is no Time Bureau in Castle Pines. No time rift. As much as I hate that thing, it’s my only lifeline to Cascade. She needs it to come back, which means I need the rift to exist and function.
I hail Dad when I’m outside the building and can’t get in. He comes down, something he never would’ve done before. I always had to go to him.
“Price.” He grips my elbow and leads me away from the glittering, glass doors. “What are you doing here?”
“I can’t live like this,” I say, glancing up to the giant leaf that looks like its floating on water. The Global Initiative has a lame logo. “I can’t even access parts of the Circuit! Did you know there are restricted areas, and apparently we don’t have the clearance to see them?”
The look on his face tells me that he knows. I hate that I didn’t understand the privileges I enjoyed as his son. “Price, things aren’t the same for you. I get that. For me either. But I’m not sure what to do about it.” He glances over his shoulder. “But there’s no Time Bureau in this reality. No mention of rifts in the history. I don’t know what you want me to do.”
I glare at him. He’s supposed to have answers. He’s the only one who remembers the same life I do. I can’t believe he’s just going to straighten his tie and sit at a desk all day. Mining data. No way. I don’t believe it.
But another anxious glance around convinces me that Dad’s going to do exactly that.
“Dad,” I plead. “You have to do something.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do. We don’t own the rift anymore. As far as I can tell, my grandfather wasn’t involved with Shawna Phillips after she lost her research. Harlem invested his money in space technologies, not time travel possibilities.” Dad puts his arm around my shoulders in a fatherly gesture. “So go home. Make sure Mom is okay. We’ll talk more when I get off work.”
I really thought Dad would have answers. I hadn’t checked all the historical timelines, but it sounds like he has. No time rift investment. No scientific research facility.
“Space technologies,” I muse as I make the short walk back to our apartment. What a waste. Everyone knows the best investments are those that deal with happenings right here on Earth. Sure, there was a colonization phase in the 2020’s, but that was squashed hella quick when the ships couldn’t safely land on Mars. Those people lived in space for over two years while the engineers tried to figure it out, and then their ship exploded upon re-entry to the atmosphere.
I scoff. I can’t believe my ancestors wasted their money on space technologies.
I suffer through the rest of the day. We eat overcooked chicken for dinner, and I skip my social time activity. I get Mom to code an illness exception form, and I wake up the next morning on the blasted couch.
I can’t believe my bedroom is the living room. I can’t believe this is my new life.
That night, Dad doesn’t come home from work. Mom doesn’t seem alarmed by it, but I can’t tear my eyes from the door. I keep thinking he’ll enter, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, his data-pod loaded with work he didn’t have time to finish at the office.
He doesn’t come. Mom pats my head when she goes to bed, leaving me on the couch, wondering where Dad is.
Not just where. When.
On a whim, I logout of my main identity and check m
y others. My Owen Kaufman personality is suddenly back, and after I login, I find a message from Dad.
Space technologies, Price. My grandfather invested in space technologies. Think beyond this realm. Maybe have some Neapolitan ice cream while you ponder why he’d do that.
I’ll see you tomorrow night.
Love, Dad
I bolt into a sitting position, fear gripping my stomach with an iron fist. “Space-time technologies,” I breathe into the silent apartment while the drumming of my heart intensifies. “Dimensional space technologies. Alternate universes.”
I know without a doubt that my family is still wrapped up in the rift. I just don’t know if we’re still tangled up with Shawna Phillips.
I wonder where Dad went—did he cross to an alternate dimension? Or did he use the rift to go back in time?
I lay down on the lumpy couch, staring at the ceiling through the navy darkness. I take a deep breath and press my palm over my heartbeat to calm it. Dad said I’ll see him tomorrow night, and I cling to the hope that I will—if the Neapolitan Crew of Dimension B doesn’t blow his brains out and stuff him in a box.
I can’t sleep, and I give up trying about two a.m. I don’t need to sit up to Link to the Circuit, but I do anyway. I’m not sure what to look for. I already know my house out in the suburbs was purchased by Orville Openshaw. I already know he partners with Shawna Phillips on the time rift instead of my family, though they haven’t released their information to the public.
So I fall back on my favorite search term: Chloe Phillips.
She’s stayed off the radar. No scientific findings, no achievements or awards. It’s like she left here six months ago and ceased to exist altogether. I know that’s not true, but only because of the note Monroe rescued. Besides, there’d be a record of her death in the public files, and there’s not.
The first few matches are for someone else with the same name. I’ve learned to skip over the Olympic athlete who won gold in figure skating in 2026 and 2030. She was only fourteen years old at her first victory—no way she can be my Cascade Kaufman.
Mend (Rift Walkers #2) Page 4