by Ryan Dalton
She shook her head, eyeing him distantly.
Once again, he fell in sync with her thoughts. “I will explain everything when this is finished. I promise you, I am still the person you know.”
“Al!” Walter reached out to clutch John’s shoulders, tears in his eyes. He stared at the younger man, making sure he was real, and pulled him into a tight embrace. “Oh my God, Al. You’re—”
“Yeah, Walt. It’s me.” John laughed with joy, shedding tears of his own. He returned the hug with vigor. “Sorry I didn’t come to you sooner, my friend.”
Valentine’s head spun. This is . . . I don’t even know anymore.
“It was all for you,” a tiny voice whimpered.
The three of them turned toward Miss Marcus. She rose to her feet, the truck’s broken mirror clutched in her hand. Valentine realized with alarm that her other hand held the silver pin again.
“For you, Albert!” She gazed at John with longing. “To save your life. To save our love!”
John reached out to her. “Come to me, Miranda. We’ll work through this together.”
“No!” She shook her head violently and backed away. Her eyes cast about in a wild, erratic pattern. “No no no it’s too late it’s too late!”
“Miranda, please,” John beckoned softly. “We need you.”
“Can’t do it—can’t let myself! Must save you—save you from him. Save you from me.”
Trembling, Miss Marcus held up the mirror and stared into her own eyes. Her other hand closed tightly over the pin. “FFOORRGGEETT,” she commanded her reflection. “FFOORRGGEETT WWHHOO YYOOUU AARREE. FFOORRGGEETT TTHHIISS PPLLAACCEE AANNDD TTHHEESSEE PPEEOOPPLLEE. FFOORRGGEETT EEVVEERRYYTTHHIINNGG. WWAALLKK AAWWAAYY AANNDD NNEEVVEERR LLOOKK BBAACCKK.”
She stiffened. The mirror dropped to the floor, followed by the pin. Blank-faced, the shell that was once Miranda Marcus marched mechanically toward the open wall.
“Miranda!” Walter called after her.
“She’s . . .” John hung his head. “Miranda is gone, Walt.”
The former Miranda Marcus left the house and disappeared into the pouring rain.
Chapter 29
Valentine stared after Miss Marcus in disbelief. She was never evil—just desperate. Lucius twisted her into something ugly. She eyed the silver pin glinting on the floor, and moved to retrieve it.
“Why couldn’t we move to a normal town?” Malcolm mumbled. Sitting up with bleary eyes, he stared out at the storm. “She didn’t even take an umbrella.”
With a shaky laugh, Valentine rushed back to his side and double-checked him for injuries. “Are you okay? How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough to get the important stuff.” Malcolm gently pushed her hands away. “I’m okay. He just caught me off guard. What’d he do to me?”
“Took you down in five seconds, then shot us all out the window,” Walter said.
“So that explains all the mud,” John said.
Malcolm gave him a respectful nod. “Nice to see you back, uh . . .”
He smiled. “You can still call me John.”
“Lucius has Ulrich’s bracers. That’s what he hit you with,” Valentine said. “And while I was up there, I learned something else.”
Quickly as possible, she explained what Lucius had shown her about the watch and how it controlled the time machine. “If we get the watch and force him into the machine, we can use the jewel beam to send him anywhere we want,” she concluded.
“Where can we send him that’ll neutralize him?” Walter mused.
Malcolm stood. “How far back did the watch take you, Val?”
“Not sure, but there were dinosaurs. If we send him that far without any toys, there’s no way he could threaten anyone again.”
A muffled boom shook the house from above. They stared at the ceiling as a second boom followed close behind.
“That didn’t happen last time.” John moved protectively toward Valentine.
“We need to get moving.” Malcolm looked at John. “Can you get everyone to safety?”
“Not everyone. I’m staying to finish this, too,” Walter said. Clicking open one of his rings, he offered it to John along with the keys to the truck. “Get yourselves as far away as possible, and use the ring if you hit trouble.”
John stared at Walter’s outstretched hand. “No, Walt. I came to help end this, and I’m not leaving until it’s done.”
The house rattled with another boom.
“You are helping,” Malcolm assured him. “You and Val need to find our dad. With my family safe, I don’t have to worry. I can do whatever’s necessary.” He turned to Walter. “And you know one ring isn’t enough to stand up to him. Go with them.”
“Never,” Walter said.
“Two rings aren’t enough, either, Mal,” Valentine reasoned. “You can’t do this by yourself. Let me have the other two and we’ll do this together.”
John and Walter voiced protests at the same time, speaking over each other with objections until their words ran together. Valentine kept her attention on her twin and the dangerous look in his eye. The look of a boy planning something foolish.
Pleading with her eyes, she shook her head. Don’t do it, Mal. Listen to them! He met her gaze with silent reassurance, looking eager yet almost sad. Reaching out, he pulled her into a tight embrace.
“Look after them, Val,” he whispered into her ear.
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t—”
“You’ve all done your part. Now it’s my turn.” He pulled back and kissed her on the cheek.
“Mal, I—”
The words died in her throat as she stared at him. Malcolm gave her one last grin, then sprang into action. Darting forward, he snatched the ring from Walter’s outstretched hand and socked him hard in the stomach. The older man doubled over with an oof.
Malcolm leaped over the hood of the truck and bounded to the staircase. Climbing to the top step, he faced them all again. The third ring clicked onto his finger.
“Sorry, Walter,” he said. “But you know you’d have done the same.”
Walter cast an accusing glare at him. “You crazy son of a—”
Malcolm smiled. “Get yourselves away from here. The last round is mine.”
With a leap, he disappeared into the upper level.
Malcolm ascended to the third level, making no attempt at silence. The time for stealth was over. To his left, Lucius worked at a keyboard, no doubt making final preparations.
The vortex spun like an angry red tornado. From deep in its center, a bluish-white glow radiated upward. As Malcolm watched, a crescent-shaped sliver of light flew from the center and exploded against the ceiling like a cannon. Seconds later, another followed with a boom. Droplets of rain began to seep through the cracks overhead.
“Shards of the time shield,” Lucius explained. “My device is shredding it faster than I’d hoped. It won’t be long now.” He glanced up at Malcolm. “Ready to challenge me again?”
Adopting a casual air, Malcolm paced nonchalantly around the giant machine. “No, I plan to win this time.”
Lucius chuckled. “Do you honestly believe that is an option?”
Outside the far window, the Dodge Power Wagon made it to the street and sped away. Malcolm covertly watched its escape and breathed an internal sigh of relief. He focused back on Lucius.
“Well, after you ambushed my team, destroyed the Spike, and ruined our plans after learning them from my other double-crossing teacher, I’ll admit to a moment of doubt. But then I realized something.”
He wandered closer to the lab tables. Peering between them, he saw that the metallic cylinder Valentine had described was missing. Must be back inside the floor. I’ll have to break through it.
“You see, I’m a straightforward guy,” Malcolm continued. “I don’t need elaborat
e plans. My goal is simple.”
“Really.”
Malcolm nodded. “I’m just going to kick the crap out of you and break all your toys.” He gestured to the time machine. “Including this one.”
Lucius’s smile twisted. “Or I could use one of my toys to vaporize you right now.”
“You probably could.” Malcolm shrugged. “But you won’t.”
“Oh? And why not?”
Malcolm circled around the second table, noting objects he could use as projectiles. “First, because despite everything, you don’t consider yourself a killer. Second, because somewhere deep inside, you’re curious if I’m good enough to beat you. And what scientist can resist a great experiment?”
Lucius drove a hard stare at Malcolm. Looks like I’ve hit a chord. He returned the stare, packing all the confidence he could muster.
“What now, then?” Lucius said.
Shield fragments poured from the vortex and a boom shook the house, then another, then another. The center of the roof shredded, spewing fragments into the sky as rain gushed in through the hole. Lucius’s eyes flashed to his machine for an instant.
Malcolm plucked a random object from the table and snapped it in half. “There goes one.” He grabbed another in each hand and crushed them. “And two more.” Have to make him think I have no plan.
Lucius came within arm’s reach and Malcolm drew back a fist. Forcing all his might into the blow, he slammed against Lucius’s jaw like a sledgehammer.
Lucius barely moved.
A flash of distress hit Malcolm. He struck again as Lucius watched him stoically. He attacked again and again until his knuckles ached, and his enemy stood unaffected. Doubt crept in. Had he misjudged his chances so badly?
With a malevolent smile, Lucius crushed his palms against Malcolm’s chest. He flew backward to crash through layers of wood and circuitry, head and shoulders protruding through the side of the house. In a daze, he stared at the sky while cold water droplets drenched him.
Hands gripped his jacket, and then he was yanked back inside and tossed to the floor. Malcolm slid to a stop next to the time machine. Groaning, he clutched his chest and willed himself to stay conscious. There’s still a chance. There’s still . . .
Lucius towered over him. Rain fell on them both, soaking through their clothes. As if he were relishing the moment, Lucius ripped his jacket to shreds and flung it away.
Steel-braided cables snaked out from the chest plate to wrap around his torso and arms, ending in new connections with Ulrich’s bracers. He found a way to combine them! Malcolm knew then where Lucius’s titanic strength came from.
Lucius pressed a boot against his chest. Strength flowed back into Malcolm, and he silently thanked the accelerator rings for keeping him in overdrive.
Catching the boot, he kicked up and caught Lucius hard in the groin. The scientist seized with a guttural groan, momentarily stunned. Malcolm leapt to his feet and aimed for the softest parts he could get at. A jab to the throat, an elbow to the eye, and Lucius fell back a step.
Malcolm paused for an instant to catch his breath. It was all Lucius needed. His fist hurtled upward and caught Malcolm under the chin, lifting his feet off the floor.
Stars exploded in Malcolm’s eyes. Lucius swept his legs to the side and brought a fist down on his chest like a wrecking ball. He crashed down and floor planks shattered under the impact.
Whole thoughts and complete sentences fell beyond Malcolm’s grasp. Only instinct remained to guide him, and it shouted one thought over and over. THE PLAN. FIND THE WATCH.
Malcolm pulled himself from the hole in the floor and crawled between the lab tables. Hands trembling, he summoned his little remaining strength and pried open the floor panel. Waiting underneath was the shiny cylinder that Valentine had described. A thrill raced through him and he reached inside, grasping for his prize.
The watch was gone.
No no no no where is it? Where is it? I NEED IT!
A singular sound carried above the storm and his pounding heart: Lucius’s laughter.
Resigned, Malcolm rose to meet his opponent eye-to-eye. One hand braced against a table to hold himself upright, the other closed into a fist. He prayed the rings would keep him alive long enough.
Lucius grinned with mock pity. “Were you looking for this?” The watch glimmered on his left palm. “Or perhaps this?” His right hand clutched a ten-inch spike of jagged glass, crusted over with dried blood. The glass that killed Ulrich.
“You said I wasn’t a killer, Malcolm. You were right.”
Lucius became a blur. Malcolm blinked and they were face-to-face. Something thumped against his ribs.
Suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He clawed at the air with his lungs but drew nothing in, as if a boulder were pressing on his chest.
“Until today.”
He blinked. Something’s wrong. Lucius stepped back and Malcolm looked down to see the last inch of glass poking out from between his ribs.
Lucius had pierced him through.
Malcolm’s strength melted and he collapsed to his knees. Lucius regarded him with cold satisfaction.
“You will not be remembered.” He clutched Malcolm’s throat and lifted him from the floor. Together they moved to the edge of the vortex. “So you might as well disappear.”
With a flick of Lucius’s wrist, Malcolm flew into the swirling maelstrom and tumbled around inside like a toy in a whirlpool. Weakly he grasped at the makeshift dagger, managing only to slice his fingers on the razor-sharp edges. His lungs refused to work and blackness crept into the edges of his vision. A last thought echoed in his fading consciousness.
I’m going to die . . .
Chapter 30
The time shield shimmered beneath him.
Malcolm tumbled around the edges of the vortex like forgotten laundry. Below him, it ripped through centuries’ worth of time and space and ended at the borders of the shield. He saw the shield’s radiance waver under the assault of Lucius’s machine.
All strength spent, Malcolm stopped pulling on the glass and let his arms float free. Distantly, he knew that if the wounds didn’t kill him soon, the next broken piece of the shield would. It would explode against him as the others had against the roof, and everything would be finished.
A sinking sadness filled his belly as he thought of Valentine, of Oma Grace and his father, of Fred and Winter, the unlikely friends who’d stuck by them when the world had gone crazy. I’m sorry. I tried.
The air vibrated as a sliver of the shield broke away. He watched it tumble end over end, flying toward him at breakneck speed. Okay, then. This is it. Malcolm willed his mind to relax and open himself to accept it with peace. The sliver collided with his torso.
Then he absorbed it.
The sliver sank deep into his flesh and dispersed, its energy infusing new life into every cell. Malcolm realized he could breathe again. Every inhale carried a stab of hot agony, but the air flowing into his lungs had never felt sweeter.
What . . . ?
Another shard broke away. Tentatively, Malcolm opened himself to accept its ethereal light. As it slipped into him, cuts and bruises healed and his skin rejuvenated. He accepted another and glimmers of new life swirled inside, healing muscle and mending bone. His mind accelerated past normal and his thoughts raced with elation and puzzlement.
What is happening to me?
The vortex shuddered as a massive section broke away from the shield. Malcolm saw it with his eyes, then felt it in his mind. The shard spun wide of him, threatening to veer away, and somehow he reached out in his mind to beckon it in his direction. As if hearing his call, the shard curved toward his body. They merged in a burst of dazzling light.
His strength soaring, Malcolm grasped the end of the glass dagger and withdrew it from his chest. Energy converged on the open wound, and in seconds th
e bleeding stopped and the gash healed over, leaving only a scar.
Malcolm’s attention returned to the shield as several fragments broke off at once. As if it were practiced habit, he reached out and commanded them to converge on his body. They obeyed, and he overflowed with unbridled power.
A million questions repeated over and over again. He found he had no answers. Then he found he didn’t care. All that mattered was this power, and what he could do with it.
Malcolm’s thoughts turned to the past year, memories playing out in a blink. Rage ignited inside him. Rage at storms. Rage at lightning and earthquakes, at death beams and time travel and cancer and grief and futility.
This year had already taken his mother. It would not take anything else.
Malcolm threw himself out of the machine. Bursting through the wall of red energy, he landed squarely in front of the lab tables. Lucius sat enraptured by a screen high on the far wall, fingers blurring as he clicked out commands.
A robotic voice rang out. “Fifteen minutes to shield failure. Sixteen minutes to final jump.”
With a flick of his wrist, Malcolm sent the spike hurtling into the center of the display. Lucius jerked away as the screen spewed a shower of sparks.
“Should’ve finished me yourself.”
Lucius turned toward him slowly, as if beholding a ghost. Observing the scientist with new eyes, Malcolm realized he felt no fear. He looks so small to me now.
Lucius swallowed. “No. No, it can’t be,” he said, half to himself. “You can’t be one of the—”
Malcolm fumed at the man trying to destroy everything he loved. In that moment, he cared nothing for the plan or the answers Lucius may possess. He cared only for four words that Fred had spoken.
MAKE HIM FEEL IT.
I like the sound of that.
Malcolm moved forward.
Lucius rushed at him, wide-eyed and desperate to strike the first blow. Malcolm focused his will and, with a shift, Lucius slowed to a creep. His body pumped with everything he had, yet to Malcolm he appeared to move through thick syrup. Finally within arm’s reach, Lucius launched a barrage.