Another bus waited for them, and they wasted no time crossing the tarmac to enter it.
“Welcome home, gentlemen,” Chris said proudly once everyone had settled into the bus. “We have some long days ahead of us, so tonight will be a relaxing night. If you didn’t eat on the plane—which it didn’t look like anyone did—get a good dinner tonight and sit back, watch a movie, read a book—whatever you do to unwind. Tomorrow we will start planning to get another of our own back, just like we rescued Martin today.”
Chris looked down to Martin, who sat in the row behind him again, and winked.
One of our own? Martin thought, then immediately shut down his mind since he was close to Chris. He hadn’t declared an allegiance to any side in this fight, and didn’t intend to. He just wanted to go home to 2018, dump his bottle of Juice down the drain, and pretend none of this had ever happened. No 1996, no witnessing Izzy’s death, no Sonya. None of it.
You can’t do that now, remember? his mind cut back in. Your mother now has dementia because of you, or did you forget already? Are you really going to leave her to rot away in her own mind? Let her talk to you like a complete stranger?
The bus ride had only lasted ten minutes when they turned onto a dirt road for another mile and pulled up to a mansion that looked as large as the White House. The dirt road gave way to cobblestone and led them to a wide roundabout in front of the house. A thin layer of snow covered what would have been a lawn. The mansion was made of dark stone, reminding Martin of a medieval castle. Two rows of a dozen windows lined the front, all of equal size.
“What is this place?” Martin asked when the bus came to a complete stop.
Chris looked over his shoulder with his usual grin. “My house. Our headquarters. Chateau de Chris. Whatever you want to call it. It’s where you’ll be living for the next few weeks while we figure out what to do.”
“Do with what?”
“With the Road Runners. We’ll have plenty of time tomorrow to discuss. Tonight is all about relaxing. I know that’s a difficult concept for you, but give it a try. You might even smile for once.”
Martin couldn’t take any more of Chris’s snide remarks. No, he didn’t want to relax. He had lost his daughter, his mother, his girlfriend, his life as he knew it. If things could go back to the way they were, drinking into oblivion every night, eating his pistol once a year, then he could relax. Routine brought him the calm he desired, not being kidnapped and flown to the fucking North Pole.
The bus door slid open, and the robotic men all stood and filled the aisle, waiting for Chris to lead the way. It became more apparent with each passing second that these men were incapable of thinking for themselves. They simply followed Chris around all day and did as they were told.
Chris rose, bones cracking and popping, and led the parade to the mansion.
The house had no exterior decorations but was rather a plain fortress on a private lot, far from the town that was already off the map. They reached the entrance, a lone wooden door, and Chris pulled it open, leading the crew inside.
The interior was something out of a movie, and certainly didn’t fit in this small town in the 1980’s. They walked into an entryway with a spiral staircase that led up one level and down another. A kitchen was to the left, and a lounge area to the right. A crystal chandelier hung above them, illuminating the room with abstract paintings as decorations.
Martin stood frozen as the men all made their way up the stairs to the second floor. He looked up to the skylight windows that provided a glimpse of the gray sky.
“Shall we?” Chris asked once the men had cleared out, leaving them in silence, the only audible sound a fireplace crackling somewhere around the corner. “Quite the scare the Road Runners gave you back there.”
Chris crossed his arms and waited for Martin to respond.
“Yeah. They didn’t seem too evil. In fact, they were gonna let me walk out before you showed up.”
“Oh, please. They only play nice to try and trick you into trusting them. How can you trust a group who sent Sonya to trap you?”
Martin had tried to push Sonya out of his mind, wanting to forget the fact that she had been playing him like a used piano since they first met. All of the lovemaking, late-night talks, and romantic dinners had been a lie to land him in a basement conference room with the Road Runners.
“I’d rather not talk about that,” Martin said.
“Understood. Let me show you around.” Chris raised his arms as if soaking in his surroundings. “This house is four levels. We’re on the main level. Kitchen, lounge, laundry – pretty much any of your basic needs. Food is always stocked and nothing is off limits on this floor. Make yourself at home.”
He shuffled to the stairwell. “Downstairs is the basement and somewhere you’ll never need to go. We have an entire team down there conducting research throughout history and the future, creating databases and algorithms, and a bunch of other things I don’t really understand until they summarize it in a weekly report for me.”
Martin joined Chris at the stairwell and looked down to a pit of darkness. Chris pointed up.
“Upstairs has two more floors. The top floor is all bedrooms. The second floor has more bedrooms along with meeting spaces and my main office—well, more of an office and bedroom combo. It’s where you’ll usually find me.”
“I take it I have one of these bedrooms?”
“Of course. You’ll be on the second floor. I’ve already stocked your closet with winter clothes, or else you’ll freeze to death in this city. The highs are usually in the 30s, but the nights get as low as 20 below. You’ll want to stay inside, but don’t worry, our lounge has a fully stocked bar.”
“Sounds like quite the bachelor pad.”
Chris cackled. “It certainly is. Any questions?”
Martin wasn’t given much of a tour but more of an explanation of the layout. He’d have to explore on his own apparently, although it seemed there wasn’t much to look at beyond the main level.
“Yes. Are your men okay? They seem a bit . . . out of it.”
“Ahhh, yes. They’re just fine. You see, traveling through time in rapid succession is very draining on the mind. Me and my men had just jumped around ten different decades looking for you. We have eyes all over. There were lots of false tips claiming to have seen you. The guys are just drained and need to sleep. That’s why they slept on the flight and will probably sleep right through lunchtime tomorrow.”
Martin nodded. “I’m pretty tired myself. I didn’t get any sleep on the plane.”
Chris grinned and started up the stairs. “Follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”
Martin followed up the spiral staircase, looking over the edge to the basement, nothing but a black pit of death. He felt the perfectly human urge to go where forbidden. What was really down there?
They reached the second floor landing and Martin looked both ways down a hallway that stretched far into the distance.
“This way is all the bedrooms,” Chris said, pointing to the left. “The other side is my office and other meeting rooms. If the doors are open to a meeting room you’re more than welcome to use the space. If closed, you need stay out. There can be highly confidential meetings taking place.”
“Understood,” Martin said, inching further into the hallway.
“Now, follow me.” Chris turned left and led the way down the hall, stopping at a door only three from the end. The old man rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a small silver key. “This is for you. All bedrooms are complete with queen-sized beds, bathrooms, dining rooms, and satellite TV—we like to bring our future technologies to the past. If there’s anything else you wish to have, just let me know and I’ll see what we can do.”
“Thanks.” Martin didn’t know what else to say, and now that the excitement of being kidnapped twice had worn off, his head spun in fatigue.
“I’ll leave you to it. Come find me if you need anything today. I’ll introduce you to our house assistant tomorrow
. He’ll be the one you can go to anytime for anything. Have a nice nap.”
Chris nodded and turned, strolling down the hall and disappearing into a door on the opposite end.
Martin jiggled his key in the door and pushed it open to a breathtaking view. Past the bed and mounted flat screen TV was a window overlooking a blanket of whiteness. This mansion was hidden in the middle of an open field with the ground covered in at least one foot of snow as far as he could see. Having lived his entire life in Colorado, he couldn’t recall ever seeing an area of land so flat. Snow-capped trees completed the landscape that looked like a Bob Ross painting.
He sat on the foot of his bed, wondering how Chris managed to get a 55-inch flat screen TV into 1981. It seemed like a pointless task considering the looming issues spread throughout history, but perhaps luxury had no end.
Within seconds, Martin’s body and mind gave way as he sprawled across the bed, staring at the ceiling, falling in to a heavy slumber.
76
Chapter 21
“I think we need to send him to the basement,” Chris said. He sat in his dim office, the curtains drawn, and his trusted confidant, Duane, across the desk. Chris kept a tight inner circle, but Duane was the only one he could tell anything.
Duane had been there since day one, always curious and willing to test new theories in the past or future, willing to do anything short of risking his life. It was the sort of loyalty that money couldn’t buy, and Chris needed that. Everyone else closest to him had lucrative incomes, leaving him to wonder if they remained obedient because of the money or if they truly believed in their work.
Duane nodded, his wavy brown hair jiggling slightly. He snapped his round-framed glasses off his face and rubbed tired, brown eyes. “If you say so.”
“Do you not agree?” Chris asked. Duane rarely disagreed with him, so when he did, he knew there was a good reason.
“We’ve reached an unfortunate point in this war, Chris,” Duane said, standing up. He was of average height and build, and always wore a fine suit. “We’re at a crossroads. Right now we have fifty Road Runners in our basement.”
“There’s room for fifty more,” Chris added.
“No. Listen. We’ve reached a point where there’s so many people traveling through time that they make friends and develop relationships. They bond. They become important to each other. When someone goes missing, they all know about it. They make plans to find their friends. We have reason to believe the Road Runners have increased their surveillance and are implanting location chips into their people. Just to find you.”
“What are you getting at?” Chris had heard enough and wanted to get to the point.
“We can’t keep taking people and stashing them in the basement. It’s going to get us caught at some point.”
“My soldiers are highly trained and won’t make mistakes.”
“It’s not about mistakes. One day we’re not gonna be fast enough when we take someone. You didn’t know it, but someone had followed you out the hotel when you took Briar. They were on foot and couldn’t follow once you got on the bus, but it’s one step closer. Next time, there will be someone ready in a car to follow you. I wish you’d stop snatching people every time you get a hunch. But at this point, I think it’s best for you to let Briar go. Put him on a flight back to Denver, and wish him the best. We can only hope he won’t run off to the Road Runners, but we are getting crushed in that department anyway. They’re 20,000 strong now.”
“And we’re 100,000. You worry too much.”
“They were only 3,000 two years ago and we were at 110,000. You tell me if you like the direction of that trend.”
Chris leaned back in his seat. Duane loved to discuss numbers and strategy like he was a general in charge of a war. While he appreciated the information, Chris believed in bold approaches to problems.
“So then we should kill everyone in the basement. Briar, too.”
Duane shook his head. “You’re not understanding. That’s not going to do anything but keep the search alive. We have two options: release them slowly back into the world, or kill them and publicly dispose of their bodies so the Road Runners know it’s one their own.”
Chris grinned. “Now you’re talking my language.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s the best option. That only leaves more clues behind. You know how advanced science becomes in the future; leaving a corpse behind puts us at a high risk of being caught.”
“Fine. I’ll think it over. But Briar needs to go. He slept with Sonya, and I can’t forgive that.”
“You need to let that go. Your daughter has slept with numerous people to trap them. She’s gone, Chris. A full-blooded Road Runner, probably because you act so goddamn selfish all the time.”
“Selfish?” Chris sat forward, hands in the air. “I give people my Gift. I let them share it with others and spread the joy. And you call me selfish?”
Chris knew Duane didn’t have the energy to stay in arguments for too long, and rejoiced when his friend sat back down.
“You know what I mean, and I’ll just leave it at that. You drove Sonya out of your life. No one else did.”
“You know, Duane, you’ve told me that plenty of times before. I don’t need a constant reminder of how things played out. If I need your opinion on my past, I’ll ask you for it. Otherwise, I’d appreciate if you’d stick to business.”
“What are you gonna do, Chris? Fire me? Kill me? Throw me in the basement? I don’t like bringing these things up, but sometimes you go off the rails and I need to mention it.”
Chris glared across the desk. “You’ve always been good to me, and I’d never do such a thing to you. You just need to stay in your lane. Now if you wouldn’t mind leaving me be, I need a moment alone.”
Duane sighed and let himself out of the office.
Chris crossed his hands on his desk and plopped his head down. He couldn’t take any more arguing. He had lots of meetings lined up over the next few days, and even more difficult decisions to make.
He needed to interview Martin, see where he stood with matters before making the rash decision of sending him to the basement. A quick visit to the basement was in line as well. It had been a couple of months since Chris had stopped by to visit his enemies.
Chris rose from his seat and paced circles around the office, hoping he wouldn’t have to send another lost cause to the basement. Martin didn’t seem infected by the Road Runners; he did follow them this far, after all, without any protest, murder attempts, or acts of violence like others before him.
Martin was a perfect citizen, and Chris had no reason to suspect he was working with the Road Runners, but something felt off. The way Sonya had played him surely left him scarred and hurt. There were fewer things more frightening than a person with nothing to lose.
Chris left his office space and crossed to his bedroom at the opposite end. He sat on his bed and pulled open the nightstand drawer to retrieve a photo.
His fingers trembled with the picture of the young girl smiling with her father. She was his world, and it showed in his eyes – youthful, sparkling, and excited for the future.
“Angelina,” Chris said, brushing two fingers over the portrait. “Where did we go so wrong?”
He thought back to what felt like thousands of years ago when Angelina was a little girl, many years away from changing her name. Time became jumbled when constantly traveling through it, so much that Chris often forgot where he came from. Seeing the picture always returned him to memory lane, and the perfect life he once had.
For now, he needed to stop by the basement and see his daughter’s goons.
He placed the old portrait back in the nightstand and rose from the bed, crossing to a small door in the corner. Chris enjoyed having his own private elevator to get from floor to floor. At his age, the stairs took too much of a toll on his body. But he would take them in the presence of company, to show that he had no weakness.
He called the elevator wit
h a quick push of the button on the wall and pulled open the door as it arrived. The car stood seven feet tall and was wide enough for two people to stand comfortably. Chris never let anyone besides Duane ride along with him, and even that was on rare occasions; he liked to have these stolen moments to himself.
He stepped into the elevator, pushed the B on the panel, and watched his office disappear from sight as he went down two levels to the dark basement. The elevator opened to a pitch-black corner of the basement; he liked to surprise his prisoners and never wanted them to know when he arrived.
He stepped out and turned the dark corner into the open space.
Everything he had told Martin about the basement was a lie. It wasn’t some elaborate research center with dozens of men working toward a greater good. It was a prison for captured Road Runners.
The room stretched the length and width of a football field. Tape decorated the concrete ground, forming three by three foot squares, appearing like a life-sized chess board. Each prisoner was assigned a square, and only 50 of the 100 available spaces were occupied. Chris dreamed of filling the basement with desperate Road Runners.
Chris believed in killing only as a last resort. Road Runners held useful knowledge about their plot to overthrow him, and he wanted to gather all of the information possible. Perhaps the basement was a research center of sorts, after all.
Each square had a steel hook bolted into the ground and a shackle running from it to each prisoner’s ankle. The shackles allowed them to reach the edge of their squares, nothing more, nothing less. Prisoners were given three meals a day, and had to relieve their bowels in whatever corner of their squares that they chose. One pillow and one blanket were provided after dinnertime.
The basement was usually silent, the forty plus men and handful of women all sitting in their squares, knowing they were hidden and wiped off the map.
“No one will ever find you where we are,” Chris would tell them each upon arrival to the dark and dank room. “Ninety nine percent of the population can’t even find this place on a map.”
Wealth of Time Series Boxset Page 43