“Thanks again for everything. Maybe we can grab a drink after this is all done.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
Bill patted Martin on the shoulder one final time before turning toward another office down the hall.
Martin closed the door and returned to the mirror, patting his hair down with a quick spit on his fingers.
“You can do this—whatever this is.”
He felt more alert, but couldn’t ignore the tingling in his head that demanded sleep. It would have to wait. His cell phone chimed to let him know it was now 6:55.
He took one last look in the mirror at the man who had overcome so much since 1996. Bouts of depression, alcoholism, and numerous suicide attempts weren’t enough to bring him down. And neither will this. He smiled to himself before leaving his room to meet Tarik and Commander Strike.
Walking down the hallway felt like an eternity as he passed each door with increasing stress. When he reached Tarik’s door he paused, knowing a new life waited on the other side.
“Come in!” the Commander called without him knocking.
She’s good.
Martin pushed the door open and found Commander Strike with Tarik in their same positions as the night before. She had her hands folded on the desk, and Tarik fidgeted in the corner with a small syringe.
“Good morning, Martin,” she greeted. “We had a team prepare a plan for you overnight. I reviewed it earlier this morning and have signed off on it. All we need to do is get you set up with your tracking device and you’ll be ready to head back to 1996.”
“I’m going back to 1996?” Martin asked, a sudden tremble taking control of his arms.
“Yes, that’s where Sonya lives.”
She played you, Marty. Played you good. All that talk about leaving her life behind. It was all an act.
“She’s still in her same house?”
Commander Strike nodded.
The house he thought they had turned into a home together. How many other men had she laid a similar trap for throughout history?
“Here’s the report.” She slid a file across the desk with a sturdy finger. “It’s only two pages. You can read it here, but you can’t take it with you—can’t have any trace of this mission when you go.”
Martin grabbed the file and flipped it open. It contained instructions on the proper way to dispense of the poisons along with random information about Sonya’s house and neighborhood, should he have to get involved in a foot chase. It had a clipped picture of her, not smiling and staring blankly at the camera.
“This is pretty standard stuff, especially since you lived in that house. The poisons are pretty straightforward,” Strike explained, glaring across the desk
“I don’t see my condition listed in here.”
“What condition?”
“About getting a cure for Alzheimer’s in the future, to bring back to my mom.”
“This isn’t a contract of any sorts, it’s just a mission report.”
“I want it in writing somewhere.”
Martin spoke sharply and returned a hard gaze into Commander Strike’s eyes.
She nodded and held out an open palm. “Okay, pass it here.”
Martin handed it over and watched her flip a page and start scribbling notes. She passed it back.
“An effort to find a cure?” he asked. “I need the cure.”
“Martin, we don’t know if there’s such thing. As soon as this mission is done, we’ll get people on it right away. I’m not going to put it into writing that there’s a cure because I don’t know that for sure.”
Martin rubbed his eyes, the puffiness starting to shrink.
“I need this. Just as badly as you want Chris dead.”
“You need this because of Chris. Don’t forget that.”
Martin nodded. “Fair enough. What’s next?”
Commander Strike turned to Tarik, who stepped to the middle of the room with the syringe held out. It looked like a regular shot you’d get at the doctor’s office.
“I have your tracking device right here,” Tarik said. “I’ll inject this into your arm, and within 15 minutes the device will cling to a muscle and expand to the size of a dime. You won’t feel a thing.”
“That’s what everyone says around here.”
“Are you ready?”
“Let’s get it over with.” Martin rolled up his sleeve and held out his pasty arm.
Tarik stepped up and pulled the cap off the syringe, swiftly inserting it into Martin’s flesh and pushing down on the lever.
“All done,” he said with a grin as he pulled the needle out. “Not a drop of blood.”
Martin checked his arm and saw nothing.
“Now we can officially say, welcome to the Road Runners.” Commander Strike had a stupid grin on her face that wouldn’t leave for the next hour. “You’ll be leaving in about an hour. The poison is being prepared as we speak. Once I get it, you’ll be on your way.”
Martin thought he felt a bubble burst within his arm, but chalked it up to his imagination.
There’s no hiding now. These people can find you wherever you are.
The thought was comforting and terrifying at the same time.
A knock banged on the door.
“Come in,” Tarik barked.
A weaselly man with glasses poked his head in. “The project is ready.”
Martin looked from the weasel to Commander Strike.
“Thank you,” she said.
The weasel left as quickly as he had arrived.
“Never mind on waiting that hour, Martin. The poisons are ready now.”
His gut dropped to his knees. He thought he’d have more time to stall, but clearly the universe wanted to get this over with as well.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
Martin nodded, avoiding eye contact.
Fuck no, I’m not ready to kill Sonya.
He’d been a Road Runner for less than a minute and was already thrust into the war. She did say they move fast.
“Where do you want to lie down before you drink your Juice?”
“Shouldn’t I go to Larkwood?”
“You can go wherever. We’ll give you a ride in 1996 if you need it.”
Martin crossed his arms. “I’ll just do it here. Can I do that?”
“Of course. This was still a hub back then, so someone will be here to take you to Sonya’s house. We’ll get in touch with them now and make sure the arrangements are made.”
She nodded to Tarik, who promptly left the office.
“I want to wish you luck, and thank you in advance for the service you’re doing.” Commander Strike stood and crossed the desk to meet Martin. He joined her on his feet and grabbed her hand to shake. “I know this is hard, but it should be rather straightforward. I don’t foresee any complications if you act normal and keep your poisons hidden.”
“Where is the poison?”
“Your driver will have it for you when you wake up.” She checked her watch. “You should get going. We’ll be watching both of your tracking devices from here. As soon as we see Sonya has died, we’ll move on Chris immediately. We already have five snipers surrounding his mansion.”
Martin nodded and left the office, pulling his flask from his back pocket. He looked over his shoulder and saw Commander Strike still standing in Tarik’s office, her arms crossed and her face scrunched into heavy anticipation.
He strode down the hall, and this time people stared at him. Those he made eye contact with gave quick nods as he passed. They have my back. Martin returned the nods and even some smiles until he reached the office space that had doubled as his bedroom the night before.
He took a sip of the Juice and started thinking about 1996 as he lay down on the bed. Within minutes, his mind drifted out of 2018 and started its journey to another world.
87
Chapter 32
Martin jolted awake on the floor and sat up, examining the room to be nothing but a storag
e closet as boxes lined the walls.
He stood and pulled open the door to find the office set up in the same manner, only with less people.
“Mr. Briar!” a man shouted from the desk in front of Martin. “Welcome to 1996. Commander Strike let us know you would be here, and sent us your mission tools. My name is Brett McBath.” The man rounded his desk and met Martin in the aisle. “I’ll be driving you to Larkwood.”
“Thank you, Brett, nice to meet you.”
“The honor is all mine, sir. It’s not every day you get to meet a real-life hero. When they asked for someone to drive you, I couldn’t resist the opportunity.”
Brett spoke in jittery phrases and fidgeted with his fingers. Something about his eyes looked familiar to Martin, and after another glance, he recognized him as the weasel man from 2018. He would be 22 years younger in this current encounter.
“Thank you.” Martin didn’t know what else to say. He’d never had any sort of popularity throughout his life, and being called a hero certainly pushed him out of his comfort zone.
“Shall we get going then?” Brett gazed at Martin with blue eyes, and Martin saw the shock and awe swimming behind that stare.
“Yes.” Brett’s excitement rubbed off on Martin, making him determined to carry out this mission.
See, there are other people who are behind this. It’ll be fine.
“Follow me.” Brett walked away and took Martin down the familiar path to the stairwell that led back up to the marketing office above. The flat screen computer monitors had been replaced by boxy tanks that hummed and buzzed.
“No one gets into this office until 10 A.M.” Brett checked his watch. “It’s only 8:30.”
Brett led them outside the building where a black sports car waited for them.
“You drive a Mustang?” Martin asked.
“Yeah.” Brett laughed nervously. “I figured why not. I can drive any car in the world and I’ve always loved Mustangs.”
“Nice. I like them, too.”
They sat down in the car and Brett roared the engine to life, the vibrations rocking both of them.
“We shouldn’t have any traffic today, can get you to Sonya’s house in a little more than ten minutes.”
Ten minutes. The thought drained all the blood from Martin’s stomach and chest. Ten minutes stood between him and a difficult decision. The more he weighed it, the more he considered actually going through with it. The glimpse into life as a hero appealed, but did he really want that for the rest of his time on Earth?
You couldn’t save Izzy, but you can save others. Don’t let her death go in vain.
“Are you nervous?” Brett asked. “I know I’d be nervous—actually I think I am nervous. For you. I have that feeling like there’s a boiling pot of water in my stomach. You ever get that?”
“All the time.”
“Oh, before I forget.” Brett reached into the backseat and pulled a duffel bag that he dropped on Martin’s lap. “This is your stuff. It’s meant to look like you packed for this trip. There’s some clothes, toiletries, and books. The special letter is tucked inside a book in an envelope, and the small jar and syringe with the poison are in the middle of the toiletries bag. It’s all stored safely for you to touch, so don’t worry about hurting yourself. Which one do you think you’re gonna use?” Brett asked like an excited child asking to go out for ice cream.
“I don’t know yet, I’ll need to get a feel for the situation.”
They drove off, weaving north through downtown toward Larkwood, where destiny awaited.
“I can’t believe I’m driving the man who will end the war.”
Brett kept his eyes fixed on the road, but Martin could still sense the emotion about to burst beneath his driver’s surface.
“I appreciate your excitement, but if you don’t mind, I’d like a few moments of silence to myself.”
“Gotta get in the zone? I can dig it. Pretend I’m not here.”
Brett hummed to himself, perhaps trying to make himself disappear. Anything for Martin, right?
Martin leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
What the hell am I going to say to her?
He tried to imagine how this would all play out. She would either send him away, refusing to explain herself, or she could invite him in, tell him why things played out the way they did. He assumed the latter, at least based on the person he thought she was.
His emotions would try to reveal themselves, and he’d need to hide them. Sonya had always shown an ability to read him, and if he seemed distraught at the thought of having to kill her, she would definitely sniff it out.
“We’re here,” Brett said.
Martin opened his eyes to the familiar neighborhood. The houses all looked the same on the quiet block. Brett had pulled to the side as they faced Sonya’s house at the opposite end of the road.
“I was instructed to leave you here and let you walk the rest of the way. They don’t want Sonya seeing any car she might recognize.”
“Thank you, I appreciate the ride.”
“No. Thank you, Mr. Briar. Can you feel it in the air? The world is about to change forever.”
Martin felt nothing in the air aside from the typical smog. “Glad I can help.”
“Help? You’re a living legend.”
“Thank you.” Martin shook Brett’s hand and wondered how long it would be until he washed it. It wasn’t everyday you got to shake hands with a living legend. He stepped out the car, anxious to get away from his groupie, and slung the duffel bag over his shoulder.
He may have not sensed a shift in the air, but there was a definite change in his stomach. The urge to vomit had risen to his throat as his fingers turned slick with sweat. He started walking down the sidewalk on weak legs, trying to clear his mind and relieve the stress that throbbed on every inch of his being.
Brett had left—surprisingly—making Martin the only person standing outside on this pleasant Saturday morning. His arms trembled and his vision blurred in and out of focus as his heart thumped like a rabbit’s foot. When he was three houses away, he collapsed to the ground and vomited on the sidewalk, looking around as he wiped his mouth clear of any remnants. He could hear Chris laughing all the way from Alaska, daring him to carry this out.
Get your ass up and go.
Martin wondered if the past would push back on this mission. They hadn’t mentioned anything in his brief preparation, but wasn’t he about to embark on not only changing the past, but also completely alter the fabric of time? Perhaps killing Sonya wasn’t the big event that the past was waiting for, but rather Chris’s death. That is what would officially throw the world into a chaotic limbo.
Martin pulled himself back to his feet, convinced the world wasn’t stopping him, only himself. He dragged his legs to Sonya’s house, its green lawn welcoming him to his past memories. He stood at the driveway and remembered all of the good times they had together.
He remembered the long drive home from the hospital after he woke from his coma. They had sat in the driveway as Martin debated revealing the truth to Sonya—a truth she had known all along. He shook his head and walked up to the door, a sliver of confidence finally working its way into his psyche. He knew she was inside, waiting for him.
When he approached the door, it swung open and Sonya stood there, eyes bulging.
“I’ve been expecting you,” she said. “Come in.”
88
Chapter 33
Sonya was as beautiful as ever. Even though he had just seen her two days ago, it felt more like five years.
“Are you just gonna stand there, or do you want to come in?” she asked with a grin.
He stepped into the doorway and let the screen door fall shut behind him as he entered the kitchen. The house was immaculate as always, and the smell of bacon and sausage oozed from the stove. He looked around the house for any sign of another man living there.
“Sit down, relax.” She left him in the doorway to turn o
ff the stove. “So, what are you doing here?”
She leaned against the counter and watched Martin with a careful eye as he sat at the kitchen table.
“These last two days have been hell,” he said. His stomach bubbled with anxiety; he could feel her studying him, waiting for him to make a move. She has to know.
“You could say that. We went through all of this trouble to get you in private, and that piece of shit had to barge in and take you. How did you get here?”
“I escaped from Chris’s house. I ran until I found civilization, and took the next flight out of that place.”
“I see.” She crossed her arms, all but saying that she didn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth.
“Look, Sonya. I came here because I need closure. I thought we were about to start the rest of our lives together, then all of this shit happened.”
His nerves settled; speaking the truth had that effect.
“I was just doing my job. I don’t enjoy the disappointment that comes at the end of my missions, but it’s part of it. There’s not really a way around it.”
“I don’t care what anyone says. I know what I felt. We had something real. You wouldn’t have dragged me along for six months if you didn’t feel the same. You could’ve lured me into a trap at any time.”
“You wouldn’t leave without Izzy. I wasn’t going to bother.”
“Did you know Izzy’s outcome all along?”
Sonya bowed her head and let her blond hair hang over his face.
“Jesus Christ, Sonya. Are you fucking kidding me? You sat with me through all that planning knowing how it was going to end. Is that why you stayed parked across the street that night?”
She looked up and brushed her hair back, nodding. “I’m sorry, Martin. You shouldn’t have come here. You’re not supposed to know these things.”
“So both you and Chris knew the outcome and let me wander around, pretending to be a superhero. You really are your father’s daughter.”
“Don’t call him my father!”
“Is he not?”
“Yes, he’s my father, but that’s not the point. He ruined my life.”
Wealth of Time Series Boxset Page 51