by Ryan Dalton
An earsplitting boom shook the house. A rippling wave of force slammed into their captors, hurling them to the floor.
What was that?! Malcolm sat up and searched the darkness. Behind him, the scientist and the shadowed man regained their feet.
“Get back down!” a voice yelled.
He flattened onto his back, and a sound like thunder split the air. Another wave of distortion passed above him and blasted their enemies onto their backs.
Four figures emerged from the darkness, hooded and dressed in black. Three of them carried a bulky heap slung over one shoulder. Malcolm realized with alarm that the heaps were his companions.
The fourth figure plucked him from the floor as if he weighed nothing. Battered and dazed, he found himself slung over a stranger’s shoulder and as they rushed toward the center of the room. But were these hooded phantoms friends, or just different enemies?
A commotion sounded behind them and Malcolm lifted his head to see his adversaries rise in a fury. The figure next to him spun, and light flashed between its gloves. Another deafening crack sent a shockwave at the shadowed man and the scientist, and again they staggered.
Malcolm caught sight of the four metallic panels looming closer. Between them was a black abyss—the circular hole that opened down through all three levels of the house. They would need to swing past that to reach the stairs. Only, they weren’t swinging past it. They were running toward it!
“No!” he blurted.
The floor fell away and Malcolm’s stomach leapt into his throat. Blackness opened up and swallowed them.
Stars twinkled overhead.
After the dizzying plummet into darkness, they had spent what seemed like hours traveling through an earthen tunnel. At an abrupt dead end, they had ascended a long rope ladder and come out of the round crater in a wide clearing surrounded by thick trees.
His sister and friends had shaken awake during the journey. They sprawled next to him now.
“Mal.” Valentine clutched at his sleeve.
“You okay?” he whispered.
“I’m alive. You?”
“Same, I guess. They took our masks”
“So much for anonymity.”
The hooded figures loomed overhead, staring down at them like silent judges. Backlit by the starry night, their hoods appeared as faceless pits.
“OONN YYOOUURR FFEEEETT,” one of them commanded.
The sound vibrated around them like a room full of voices, threatening to dig into Malcolm’s mind. Winter and Fred leapt up, their faces contorting with the agony of sudden movement. Malcolm shared an uneasy look with his sister. What power did this voice have over their friends?
The speaker approached the twins. “OONN. YYOOUURR. FFEEEETT!”
As beaten and helpless as they were, Malcolm decided defiance was a foolish choice. Valentine seemed to agree, and they helped each other stand. He brushed a hand on his jeans, and relief flooded him as the round shape of the watch pressed through his pocket. Impossibly, he’d managed to keep it.
“HHAANNDDSS IINN TTHHEE AAIIRR. AANNDD TTAAKKEE TTHHOOSSEE SSTTUUPPIIDD MMAASSKKSS OOFFFF.”
Winter and Fred complied swiftly, as if eager to please. The twins followed more slowly.
“LLEEFFTT FFOOOOTT IINN TTHHEE AAIIRR.”
Winter and Fred’s left feet sprang from the ground. Malcolm saw that Valentine’s expression was as dubious as his own, but they complied. What was going on here?
“NNOOWW DDAANNCCEE.”
Winter and Fred twisted and shook to a rhythm only they could hear. An otherworldly laugh drifted from under the hood.
Malcolm had had enough. Planting his feet, he forced himself to stand taller. Valentine put her hands on her hips and glared at the speaker.
“That’s enough horseplay,” another dark figure said. Stepping forward, it slid back its hood. “Turn them loose.”
Malcolm blinked. “Walter?”
His friend nodded at him. “Kid.”
“Well well, someone still wants to be the boss,” the interrogator said, only the voice sounded normal now. Miss Marcus pushed back her hood. “Don’t you, Buster?”
Valentine gasped and reached for her pendant.
“You gotta be kiddin’!” Fred exclaimed.
A third stepped forward. “They look foolish enough without your help, Blue.” Clive pushed back his hood. “Save your tricks for later.”
Malcolm gaped. “What in the—”
“No bad language, young man. Show some respect.” The fourth figure threw back its hood, revealing Oma Grace. “Lord knows you’ve caused enough trouble already.”
Malcolm felt something explode in his mind. All his words fled, and he stood there like stone. At his side, Valentine fainted.
Chapter 20
“What did you think you were doing?” Oma Grace glared back at them from the front passenger seat.
“What were we doing?” Malcolm retorted. “What were you doing?”
Valentine rubbed at her eyes, wishing away the pain. She ached for the comfort of John’s presence.
After a brief rest, they’d marched back to Clive’s restored military Jeeps at the edge of the forest. She and Malcolm had been shoved into one with Walter and Oma Grace, while Winter and Fred had taken the other with Clive and Miss Marcus.
“In case you missed it, young man, we were saving your lives,” Oma Grace snapped back.
“You kids have a real problem with gratitude,” Walter said.
Valentine’s eyes popped open. “You know what he meant. You came prepared, which means you’ve known about that place.”
“And we weren’t alone, obviously. Except you ran into danger without the slightest clue what you were doing!” Oma Grace shook her head. “Now look at you.”
Valentine glanced at Malcolm. Head bleeding, clothes dirty and torn, and every move came stiff and labored. She knew she must look just as terrible. Her ribs caught fire with every breath, and every thought felt sluggish.
“We thought we were the only ones who knew,” Malcolm said. “But you did know I was watching that house. If you’d told me the truth, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”
“I didn’t tell you because you’re children.”
“Grace,” Walter said quietly. “That might not be the best way to reason with them, considering.”
“Considering what?” Valentine asked.
Oma Grace ignored her. “I don’t care what happened before, Walt. They shouldn’t be involved.”
“We both know it’s too late for that.”
They locked eyes, and her glare seemed to soften a little. The corners of her mouth turned down. Was that a hint of guilt?
“Have to admire their guts,” Walter continued.
Oma Grace gazed at them, uncertain now. “Close your eyes and rest until we get there.”
“Where are we going?” Valentine asked.
“Somewhere safe.”
The Jeep pulled to a stop. Malcolm jolted awake and memories flooded in. What had possessed Fred to bring a gun? What happened after the scientist pulled that trigger? Did time really slow down, or did it just feel that way? What about that weird shift sensation?
“We’re here,” Walter said.
Malcolm woke Valentine and followed Walter into the chilled early morning. Next to them, the other four climbed out of their own Jeep. Winter needed Clive’s help, and Malcolm felt a rush of sympathy for what she’d endured. He wondered if he’d ever forget that scream.
“Hey.” Fred came up beside him. “They tell you what’s goin’ on?”
“Not yet, but I know this place.” He nodded at the wide brick structure. “It’s Clive’s shop.”
Clive led them across the rear grounds to his makeshift clubhouse. Opening the door, he ushered them inside, where a single light burned over the
table.
Fixing the four of them with a hard just-see-if-I’m-kidding expression, Walter stabbed a finger at the table. “Sit and wait.”
Malcolm lacked the strength to argue. Or think, or move. He shuffled over and eased gingerly into a chair. Valentine and their friends followed suit, groaning like old men as they sat. The four adults gathered in a corner and whispered.
“So, what do we do now?” Clive said.
“Perhaps their memories—” Miss Marcus began.
“No,” Oma Grace interrupted. “Don’t you use that thing on them again.”
“You know it’ll work.”
“We said you could only use it one way, Blue,” Walter said. “Don’t push it.”
Clive nodded. “Then they need to know everything.”
“They’re children. Just order them to go home.” Miss Marcus said, and the other three eyed her flatly. She shrugged. “I don’t care if it’s hypocritical. They’re a complication.”
“They managed to get inside without help. We underestimated them.” Clive grinned. “Ironic, don’t you think?”
Winter smacked a hand on the table. “We’re right here, you know!”
“What can they do?” Miss Marcus continued. “After tonight, they’re in no condition to finish it with us.”
Though he’d never say it, Malcolm agreed. They couldn’t survive another night like this.
Oma Grace held out her left hand. “So we’ll help them.”
Another significant look passed among them. Miss Marcus nodded agreement, and each of them held out their left hand. Malcolm watched with intense curiosity. What were they all talking about? Then he saw it.
Each wore an identical ring on their left middle finger.
“Just for tonight,” Walter said.
He gripped his ring and twisted, the others following suit. A faint whir-click sounded and the rings expanded, somehow doubling in circumference. They fell loosely into the palms of their owners.
Moving to the table, they took the remaining seats and slid their rings to the center. Malcolm noted that they moved more slowly, sitting heavier in their chairs. For the first time tonight, they looked tired.
Closer examination revealed the rings to be anything but ordinary. To Malcolm’s eye, they resembled tech or machinery. Tiny segments of black metal arrayed in a seemingly random pattern, yet they managed to cling together.
“Put these on, please,” Oma Grace said. The four of them hesitated. “That means now.”
Malcolm reached for Walter’s ring and the others took one for themselves. The moment it slid onto his finger, the metal segments rearranged and snapped into place in an overlapping pattern, constricting against his finger.
He gasped as a comforting warmth spread from his hand and traveled across his body. The pain numbed, exhaustion faded, and he felt stronger than ever. By his friends’ expressions, they were feeling it, too. He sighed and settled back in his chair, relishing the relief.
“Keep them on until tomorrow,” Oma Grace instructed. “They will help you heal and make you stronger.”
“So that’s how you carried us and jumped off a three-story building.” Malcolm stared down at the ring. “Where did you—?”
“We know you have questions,” Clive said. “We’ll get to them soon.”
“No,” Valentine protested. “I want to know what’s going on now.”
“You need rest first. Afterward—”
“Hey!” Winter snapped. “You have any idea how many times we’ve almost died?”
Fred crossed his arms in defiance. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere, I ain’t doin’ nothin’, until I finally know what’s happenin’ here. Get me?”
Malcolm’s head wound stopped bleeding and his thoughts came clearer now. He leaned staunchly forward, showing his agreement. “We’re not going anywhere.”
The adults drove hard stares back at them, but they held their ground. The time for mysteries was over.
A tense moment passed, and then Walter nodded to Oma Grace. She rested both palms on the table.
“Everything that’s happening now—it happened before. The storms, the beams of light.” She looked pointedly at Malcolm. “Strange things in the window . . .”
“. . . of a house with no doors,” he finished in a whisper.
She nodded. “We were about your age. We saw things, but no one would listen to a group of silly kids, so it was up to us. We learned all we could and did our best to fight back.”
“Fight back against what?” Malcolm said. “Who are they?”
“And what do they want?” Fred added.
“They’re scientists. That tall one with the cruel eyes is Ulrich, and he is merely an underling. The shadowed man—he’s the real mind behind everything.”
“The shadowed man,” Valentine said. “You don’t know who he is?”
The adults shook their heads.
Malcolm sighed. “That was going to be my next question.”
“His method was more primitive in our time,” Walter said. “It only made him blurry, but that was enough to disguise him. That’s why we used fake names. Figured if he could hide himself, we should try to do the same.”
“As for what they want,” Miss Marcus said. “They simply want to get home. Back to their own time, centuries in the future.”
Despite their situation, Malcolm felt a swell of satisfaction. “So, we were right. They did travel from the future.”
“They didn’t travel,” Clive corrected. “They were banished.” Pushing back from the table, he walked toward the back wall. “We only know pieces, but in their time the shadowed man was first to pioneer somethin’ he called temporal dynamics.” He pressed on an empty spot on the wall and a disguised compartment popped open. “In ordinary man’s terms, they studied the flow of time, what made it work and why. Started a whole new branch o’ science and then, well, things turned ugly.”
“Ugly how?” Winter asked.
Miss Marcus took over. “Seems they got big in the head and decided to try more extreme experiments. We have no clue what they were, but they broke every ethic there is. When they were discovered, they insisted that it was all for good. That they were creating a better world, and moral dilemmas were inevitable. The shadowed man saw himself as heroic.”
“Ulrich, however, had no such illusions,” Oma Grace continued. “He wiped out an entire police force before they took him down.” She stared into the distance, as if remembering something. “He likes to hurt.”
Clive rejoined them with a worn leather-bound book. “They were captured, but as much as they knew about technology, no prison coulda held ‘em. Death penalty’d been abolished by then, so what to do? Then someone got the bright idea—use their own inventions to send ‘em back in time. Put ‘em so far away that the closest they’d come to technology was the wheel.” He slid the book to the center of the table. “That’s when he started writing this.”
“A journal?” Lunging forward, Valentine snatched the book and flipped through the pages. “I recognize this part from his computer! They were sent back to the Middle Ages first, right?”
Clive nodded. “That’s only the beginning.”
“No one knew the full extent of their work,” Oma Grace said. “Over the years, they implanted themselves with cybernetic devices. Details in the book are vague, but after their banishment, they dug these devices from their flesh and somehow used them to access the time stream and take a small jump forward.”
“Since then, they’ve repeated the process dozens of times,” Walter explained. “Jump forward, find better technology, build better machines, and jump farther the next time.”
“With a few detours,” Clive said. “He’s gone anywhere that might have tech he could use. Everything from ancient Egypt to Nazi strongholds in World War II.”
Walter nodded. �
�Using today’s machines, though, he’s within range of his own era. One more jump is all he needs to get home. And if he does that, it’s all over.”
Fred frowned. “But why not just let the fool go?”
“Remember that simulation,” Malcolm reminded him. “If he jumps, everything’s gone.”
“That’s what’s messed up here.” Fred leaned forward. “It don’t look like he destroyed the town last time. Why’s it happening now?”
“There’s some kind of shield around their original time,” Walter said. “We don’t know how, but it’s there.”
“Best guess is folks in that time aren’t takin’ chances,” Clive said. “They really don’t want these two back.”
“But they found a way back anyway,” Walter said. “And it takes a city’s worth of power to do it. That’s why they’re stealing energy from the nuclear plant and storing it in batteries. They’re going to jump to that shield and punch a hole right through it.”
“That is why Emmett’s Bluff is in danger,” Miss Marcus said. “Imagine what it would take to build a shield within time itself. Imagine the destruction if all that energy were released. Where do you think it will go?” She pointed to the floor. “Back through his open portal to our time. The shadowed man is convinced it will happen, and therefore so are we.”
“They’re really willing to do that?” Valentine asked. “Wipe out thirty thousand people just to go home?”
“That’s why they’re more dangerous than ever,” Miss Marcus replied. “They’re so close now, it no longer matters who gets hurt.”
“Read that book and you’ll see,” Clive said. “He’s convinced himself that the future won’t survive without him.”
“Vents,” Malcolm blurted. Everyone stared at him. “The simulation called the tunnels vents. All that energy that blows back—he’s going to channel it away, isn’t he?”
Oma Grace nodded. “Just long enough for him to get through the shield. He started with a test, making very small holes. But tonight was about blasting the real vent tunnels in preparation for his jump. Eventually, though, even they won’t be enough to contain all that power. Then we’ll all be gone.”