Run (The Tesla Effect #2)

by Julie Drew

  Tesla backed up, breathing through her open mouth, short, shallow little gulps of air. She turned and walked down the stairs without seeing them at all, stunned, and entered her room like a zombie. She stood there for a moment, her head filled with incomprehensible static. What had he meant? What was he sorry for? What had he done? But a moment later she shook her head once, hard, to clear it, grabbed her messenger bag from her room and walked swiftly down the hall. She skipped the squeaky stair to the living room out of habit and let herself out the front door. It was colder than it had been earlier, and she paused a moment on the porch to blow in her hands before she put the strap of her bag over her head and across her body. She pulled her hood over her bright hair, walked quickly down the steps and broke into a jog as she headed toward the university.

  She had no plan, not even a clear thought in her head. She seemed to be operating on pure emotion, her body taking her away from that house, away from her father, his grief and his guilty secrets, and all she could do was watch, as if from a distance, to see where all of this would take her. When she turned left and cut across the grass in front of the Art History building, she acknowledged to herself that she was headed toward the Bat Cave. She had felt useful, competent, even powerful last summer when they had all discovered that she alone could travel in time. But it was more than just her ability to trigger the jump, to do what nobody else could do; she had felt good because she had felt a clarity of purpose, and she had acted decisively to face her problems, even when she was afraid.

  She needed to feel that way again.

  Of course, she was barred from her father’s lab as well as the underground facility and the time machine that was housed there. She had expected her father to be surprised last summer when he’d learned that it was her arrhythmic heartbeat, her unique, biological signature that made the time machine work because her mother had designed it that way. She had not expected him to be so furious about it. His daughter, Greg Abbott had declared, would not be the first human subject in time travel trials, no matter what her mother had planned. It was too dangerous, he declared—they had absolutely no idea what the short or long-term effects on Tesla might be, and it was out of the question that she would ever jump again. He had been immovable. She had foolishly imagined, however briefly, that she would work with her father, that they would continue his work together, but she had been shut out and excluded and she resented it. In short, she and her dad were right back where they had started before this whole mess had begun.

  What her father did not know, however, was that Tesla knew the password Bizzy and the others used to check the new security codes for the labs and the Bat Cave. A high level clearance was needed to access those facilities, and the codes were randomly changed at set intervals. Bizzy was just too nice—and seemed to have a particularly difficult time saying no to Tesla, who had asked for her password one afternoon after fencing class. Tesla had felt a little bad about it, but only for a moment; she deserved to be a part of this work. After all, without her, time travel was merely a distant possibility for the future. So Tesla logged in every day to make sure she knew the current code. Not that she planned to use it—all these months later and she had yet to let herself into the underground facility beneath the quad—but somehow she felt better because she could.

  Tonight, she would. Even if all she did was sit in the control room and spin around in Bizzy’s chair. She just needed to be there. All the pain and uncertainty, her swirling, confused thoughts, the shock she’d felt overhearing her father’s tortured apology to his dead wife, were taking shape at last, and that shape was anger. A cold, bright, crystal-clear sense of outrage, and the determination to do something about it. She’d always had a temper, been quick to react, but this felt so—calculated. She was calm, and absolutely committed to getting what she wanted. Now she just needed to figure out exactly what that was.

  When she got to the physics building, she let herself into the small, nondescript side entrance they had all used last summer. The outside light had been repaired since then, and she quickly, nervously tapped the day’s security code onto the keypad and hoped no one was around to see her—she wasn’t sure if having the code would preclude a charge of breaking and entering, but she didn’t want to find out. The lock clicked softly and Tesla stepped inside, but just before the door closed behind her someone grabbed it from the outside. Her heart was in her throat as she turned; the door opened wide and Sam stepped into the concrete stairwell with her and closed the door firmly behind them.

  “What are you doing here?” Tesla asked, completely shocked by his sudden presence, by the grim look on his face in the stark, fluorescent light from overhead.

  “I’m here to help,” he said.

  “Sam, I don’t want you here.” He had treated her like crap, for no reason she could fathom, and she wasn’t in the mood to deal with it—with him, or with her feelings. She didn’t care if he knew it.

  “Look, Tesla, I’m sorry about tonight. But we have to talk. Do you remember that conversation you and Finn and I had all those years ago—last summer when you jumped back to 2004, and we went to Dodie’s Diner after we stole those papers from your dad’s office?”

  Tesla scowled, completely confused. “Of course I remember,” she said impatiently. “But what does that have to do with this—or with anything?”

  “I need you to think for a minute. When we were at Dodie’s, the three of us, we agreed that we had an obligation to try and let the future unfold as we knew it—to not interfere or try to change things. Right?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “So?”

  “So, has it ever occurred to you that you might travel back in time again? And that if you did, I would be there, that younger me that you first met—in which case I—the me right here and now—would know about it because I remember it?”

  Tesla looked confused, her dark red brows drawn together so tightly a vertical crease formed between them. And then her expression was wiped clean, her eyes opened wide. “Do you mean—”

  She couldn’t finish.

  “That’s exactly what I mean. You think, because it’s all you’ve experienced so far, that you and I met each other just twice in the past, until my adult self, eight years later, came to find you just a few months ago.”

  Tesla could only stare at him in blue-green amazement.

  “Well, I know that you and I met more than twice in the past, because I was there. You just haven’t done it yet. And as we all agreed that night, I haven’t told you.”

  He stood quietly while she grappled with this, until she finally spoke.

  “I’m going back?”

  “Why are you here?” he countered. He refused to answer her, determined to tell her as little as he possibly could and still make sure it would all happen the way it already had.

  “I—I don’t know,” she stammered. “I was restless, I didn’t want to be at home. My dad is…there’s something my dad isn’t telling me about my mom, about how she died, and I have so many questions—and the day was just a disaster and, well, I suddenly just had to go to the Bat Cave.”

  “Tesla.” Sam looked at her with such intensity she felt she would have to turn her eyes away from his. He laid his hands on her shoulders, much as she had laid her hands on his just a few hours earlier, but he towered over her and his hands covered her shoulders, his thumbs on her collarbones. He shook her gently with each syllable he spoke. “You went back. Eight years ago tonight.”

  “How can you be sure?” she asked weakly. “I mean, how do you know it was tonight?”

  “I remember every detail of every time you jumped back. And it didn’t register until after I saw you tonight, that this time—this jump—you were wearing this when you arrived,” he said as he touched the hood of her black wool tunic.

  “So—I’m supposed to go now? Right now?” she asked, an edge of panic in her voice.

  “Yes—at least that’s what you did do,” he amended. “You told me—you will tell me, the y
ounger me, when you arrive—that you had a shitty day and you came to get some answers about your mother.” Unexpectedly, his face was split by a wide grin. “And something about all guys being asshats, as I recall. Which I understand a little better now. And, you know, sorry.”

  Thirty minutes later Tesla stood in the time machine, the mirrors in each corner, the smooth white walls all very familiar and unexpectedly comforting. Tesla touched the messenger bag at her side, quickly listing the potential assets she had with her: her wallet, with less than thirty dollars cash, a ponytail holder, chapstick, half a bag of Doritos. The pepper spray Lillian had given her last summer. And her cell phone, which would of course be about as useful as a paperweight once she’d made the jump. It wasn’t much of a tally.

  Sam’s voice came through the speakers. “Are you ready?”

  “I think so.” She felt like this was all a dream. It was so strange to be here again, to do this on her own and without a plan, but it seemed that she was supposed to, so…. Well, and what the hell, she thought, her chin raised as she stuck it out a bit in unconscious defiance of everyone, grasping and feeding her anger, using it. Let everyone fend for themselves. I won’t be here anymore for the lies, the games, the manipulations—at least for a while. She wanted to tell Keisha, but there wasn’t time—still, her best friend would love this move. The thought made her smile and a deep dimple appeared in each of her smooth cheeks.

  “I’m ready when you are,” she said with confidence.

  “In five…four….” Sam began.

  Sam watched her in the monitor, his breath caught in his chest as he wondered if he might be wrong. It had happened this night, eight years ago, he reminded himself, he was absolutely certain now. She had come back, and the time she had spent there had been—well, it had changed his life. The idea that he could love her as much as he did based on meeting her only twice—and so briefly—when he was fourteen was a stretch, but he’d let it stand because he couldn’t, he wouldn’t break the rule they had all agreed on years ago, that they would try their best not to interfere. She had told him, he remembered—she would tell him, his younger self, when she arrived in just a few moments—that a friend had helped her make the jump, and only later did he understand that that friend was him. And only when he realized she had been wearing that black tunic—a tunic she would not return with, he recalled—did he understand that it had been this night. He had just assumed it had been something they would discuss and plan, so he was unprepared, but it all made sense now. And, of course, it was fitting that he would be the one to send her straight back to himself. So he’d come to the physics building and waited for her, prepared to do whatever was necessary to make it turn out right.

  At least he hoped it would turn out right. The next week would be difficult, at best. He remembered it all too well—and that was if nothing changed, if he hadn’t already screwed things up in some miniscule way that he didn’t yet realize but that would nonetheless deviate from the timeline they were on. It was all so confusing. And of course, in the here and now, Tesla would have vanished, and he’d have to figure out how to make that right. With her father, with—

  He shook his head to clear it. He couldn’t worry about that now.

  “Are you ready?” he asked as he pushed the button on the mic in front of him.

  “I think so,” she said uncertainly. The camera picked up the nervous twitch of her mouth, the flash of electric colors as her eyes darted about the chamber. And then she stilled and seemed to stand a little straighter, as he watched her in the monitor. He grinned, despite himself, when she thrust out her chin, stubborn and brave as always, the flinty core of her contradicted by the soft mouth, the deep dimples.

  “I’m ready when you are,” she said.

  He put his hand on the switch that would activate the lasers. “In five…four…three….” He paused. “Tesla,” he said suddenly, impetuously. “Tonight was not the second time we’ve ever kissed.”

  She looked startled for the briefest moment, and then she laughed as she realized that he had just broken the rules, and why, and her eyes looked right at him from the monitor, an invitation that sent a hot wave of desire through him.

  “Really?” She drew the word out, a tease and a challenge. “We’ll see about that.”

  “In three…two…one,” he finished, dazzled by her face before the lasers even began their circuitous route. The photonic tubes sent beams to rotate in opposite directions, to swirl and increase in speed and intensity until their white glare became a black hole that cut through the world and took her from him.

  He was bereft, despite the fact that his younger self was in the lab at this very moment eight years ago, that it was he himself who would open the door of the time machine and watch Tesla walk out, still smiling just for him.

  CHAPTER 7

  After a restless night punctuated by sudden starts and vague fears each time he started to doze off, it took Finn all of ten minutes to decide he was acting like a jealous child—which prompted an immediate wave of self-disgust—and to head over to Tesla’s house instead of moping around. It was only eight-thirty in the morning when he rang the bell, but he simply couldn’t wait any longer. Dr. Greg Abbott answered immediately.

  “Hey, Dr. Abbott, is Tesla here?”

  “No, she’s not. I was just about to call Jane looking for her.”

  “I just came from there, and Tesla is definitely not at the house,” said Finn slowly.

  Max came up behind his father and pushed his way into the doorway and the conversation. “She didn’t come home last night,” he said, eyes wide behind his wire-rimmed glasses, wavy, carrot-orange hair falling over his forehead.

  Dr. Abbott looked quickly at Max, frowning. “Are you sure? I thought she just left early, before I got up.”

  Max shrugged, unperturbed. “Yeah, I’m sure. She always comes in my room and turns off my reading light when she gets home. It was still on when I woke up this morning. I checked her room. She hasn’t been home.”

  Dr. Abbot ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “Do you know where she went last night?”

  Finn considered leaving. Things were clearly about to get awkward as hell, but at the same time he wanted to hear it said out loud, if only to help him accept it.

  “She said she was going out with Sam,” said Max, shrugging. “To a movie.”

  Dr. Abbott turned to Finn and they looked at each other for a moment.

  “Do you know where Sam lives?” asked Dr. Abbott. His voice did not invite conversation beyond a simple answer.

  “Yes,” said Finn. “I do.” He hoped as much for his own sake as anyone else’s that her father wouldn’t find Tesla there.

  Finn paced the sitting room at Jane’s house two hours later, hating the tension and the worry he felt, furious that he was reduced to this cliché, but unable to stop himself. Where was she? Was she okay? It just seemed so unlikely that she’d blatantly spend the night with Sam, push her father to this point, no matter how mad or frustrated with him she might be. She was kinder than that. He hadn’t known her very long, it was true, but of this he was certain.

  The doorbell rang, and Finn jumped. When he opened it he found Sam on the doorstep.

  Finn felt the cool, detached expression he relied on so often slide over his features. “No way—you’re a Jehovah’s Witness? I didn’t know. Okay, go ahead, give me the spiel.”

  “Can I come in?” asked Sam.

  Saying nothing, Finn stepped aside and Sam walked into the house and they turned to face each other. It didn’t occur to either of them to sit on any of the chairs or sofas that occupied the spacious sitting room.

  “I came here to say something,” said Sam.

  “Do tell,” said Finn, sounding bored.

  “I’ve told Dr. Abbott, and I assume by telling you I’m letting Jane and the others here know as well.”

  Finn’s heart was racing now, and it was only through sheer effort of will that he was able to keep still, to
hold his body in the same, somewhat slouched stance, to look to all the world as though he had no interest whatsoever in what Sam was here to say.

  “Tesla is—” Sam began.

  “With you? Yeah, I’m not sure it’s that newsworthy,” Finn said. “But thanks for the announcement all the same.”

  Sam looked confused for a moment, and then with a slight uptick of one side of his mouth—not quite a smile, and there for only the briefest of seconds—he corrected Finn. “No, Tesla is gone, I was going to say. She jumped back in time last night. I thought you should know—all of you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” demanded Finn, alarmed by how alarmed he felt.

  “She went to the Bat Cave last night. She decided to jump. I ran the controls for her.”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Finn said, his voice low and menacing as he took a step closer to Sam, wiry and tense, his carefully-calculated slouch forgotten. “You have no business in there, and you don’t have the right to make those kinds of decisions.”

  Sam took a step in, too, but Jane Doane entered the room and they both stepped back, silently fuming.

  “I’ve just gotten off the phone with Greg Abbott,” she said briskly. “This is not good news.” She was all business, her short, elfin dark hair, her petite frame in stark contrast to her surprisingly deep voice and the unquestionable confidence and authority it held. “Sam, Finn is absolutely correct that you had no business sending her back—you are not trained on the equipment, you have no security clearance, and that time machine is a government-funded project. I don’t even know yet how many laws you might’ve broken.”

  Sam stood and took it. He knew before he even got to the house that this was how it would go—and of course he’d already heard much worse from Dr. Abbott. He did not attempt to defend himself, but neither did he look the least bit contrite for sending Tesla back in time, without anyone knowing, in the middle of the night.