LEX
“Claymore would like to debrief you, Lex,” Gloves says, glaring at me so hard it’s like he’s trying to read my mind. Not possible when I’m so tired and confused I can barely see straight.
“Didn’t he talk to you already?” I ask, my head tucked into the crook of my arm.
The tattered purple lounge chair is really comfortable. I don’t want to deal with Claymore at the moment. I don’t want to deal with anyone. It feels like all my old scars have been ripped open again, and I am slowly bleeding to death. The feeling is part cold, part numbness. Like tiny crystals of ice swimming through my veins.
I can’t get her face out of my mind. I keep trying to match it up—the face of the girl from the vault and the face of my sister. She looks different. Harder, somehow. Her hair is the same, long and brown like our mother’s, and her eyes are the color of hot chocolate on a winter’s morning. Only the narrow bridge of her nose that slopes into her mouth looks like Father’s—like mine.
“I did,” Gloves answers, folding his arms across his chest. “He wants to talk to the leader of the mission. That would be you.”
I scratch the scar on my neck and jaw. It’s as real and painful as the image of my sister that’s now burned into my brain. For the first time, I wish my leg would seize up so that I would have an excuse to stay in the common room staring at the empty half-pipe. The others have given me a wide berth since we got back. That might have something to do with the monumental disaster I made the moment we did. I practically ripped the place apart with my bare hands. I wish I could tap into that fire now, anything to warm myself.
Painfully, I stand and hobble up to Claymore’s office, trying not to look at the random faces I pass by. I know they’re staring, waiting for me to say something about what happened, waiting to see if I’ll fly off the handle again. Honestly, I haven’t ruled out the possibility. I kick an abandoned skateboard that has been staring at me from the center of the room. It crashes into the wall, and chunks of plaster fall to the floor. Taking a deep breath, I wait to feel something. But nothing comes.
“Oh, and by the way, I took the liberty of telling Claymore about your sister,” Gloves calls after me. It’s as if he threw a ball at me without bothering to give me a “think fast.” That dude is a sieve. He can’t hold information if his life depends on it.
Still, it’s probably for the best. If I’d had to see Claymore when we first got back, I probably would’ve ripped that diver’s helmet right off his shoulders. As it is, the first stirrings of returning anger rolls in my gut. My sister, my сестра. My family. Their faces float in and out of my mind like balloons. In the back of my brain, a vague plan is forming. It looks a lot like me going back for Stein, and then going back for my family. Only the how is fuzzy.
My geared leg begins to hurt, so I use the cane Nobel gave me to take away some of the pressure. It’s tempting to turn around and beat Gloves with it, but I don’t want to damage the cane. Nobel tells me that my upgrade is almost ready. The pain should go away with the addition of the new prosthetic.
Walking down the dim hallway, I can almost feel Anya next to me. The link between us is deeper than just being brother and sister. She was my best friend when I was young. We played and talked, and more often than not, she read me stories and tucked me in at night. My lips begin to turn up at the corners as I remember the nursery rhymes she used to recite in her singsong voice. Then another memory invades—the look of shock on her face in the vault. I stop, closing my eyes and reaching forward. As if I think, somehow, I can reach through time and space and touch her. Rifting runs in our blood now. The time stream created us in its womb. We are bound to it and to each other. The air around me feels thin, so very fragile. If I can just reach out…
Breathing in, I can taste the smoke from of the vault from the night before. I can hear her heart beating slowly, like a clock ticking backward. Just a little further and—
I’m thrown from the vision so hard I almost fall forward. Only my cane stops me from spilling face-first onto the floor. Shaking my head, I open my eyes and blink. She felt so close for a second. But whatever it was has passed, and I can’t put this off any longer.
Even though the sun is shining outside, the hallway to Claymore’s office seems darker than ever. I wonder absently what the Tower looked like back in its heyday. Back when Tesla and his assistants lived and worked here. Back when everything was new and shiny. We have placed it in a time loop created years after the facility was abandoned. Now it’s barely standing. Even the radio tower itself is nothing more than a tall, rusty jungle gym.
I hear the ticking before I even enter the room. Not only is Claymore already waiting for me, he has also put something on the arrivals and departures board.
I hobble in to the room without even a courtesy knock. The room remains the same time after time—a butcher-block desk with our mysterious leader sitting behind it.
You were attacked by Gear Heads? Claymore has already posted his message.
“Yes, sir,” I reply through gritted teeth. I have so many unanswered questions, and he wants to talk about Gear Heads? What about my sister? What about my age? Did Anya slow down or did I speed up? There is no way she could be more than a year or two older than the day we were taken. And why us? Why were we taken in the first place?
Tick, tick, tick… Were they the same as… Tick, tick, tick… The Gear Heads that took your leg?
“I have questions,” I say flatly. The message board flips furiously.
I am sure you do, but… Tick, tick, tick… Answer my questions first.
“Yes, sir,” I answer. “But the Gear Heads didn’t attack the Tesla Rifters. Well, except for Anya. I—” I swallow, wondering just how much Gloves has shared, and decide to go all in. “I gave her a Contra. The stupid things went after it like flies on crap.”
Tick, tick, tick… That is very interesting. Tick, tick, tick… My suspicions were correct. Tick, tick, tick… They track the Contra. Tick, tick, tick… That is how they… Tick, tick, tick… Keep finding us.
Reaching the end of my patience, I rip off my jester’s hat and throw it on Claymore’s desk. “Tell me about my sister!”
Claymore doesn’t respond at first. Black bubbles form dirty foam around the front view port of the helmet. He sits still, his hands unmoving on the gouged desk.
Tick, tick, tick… We tried… Tick, tick, tick… To save her.
I pound my cane on the floor. “No you didn’t! We are time travelers. Yet, you couldn’t manage to save both of us? Or what about the rest of my family? You couldn’t save them either?”
He tells me about the events surrounding the death of my parents—how when Gloves got to my estate, the flames were already going, and my family was dead, save Anya and me. A man named Flynn had already taken her. Gloves was barely able to save me. As it was, I was so badly injured and traumatized they had to put me in stasis for a while to recover. I was only thirteen when he took me. I’ve changed so much since then.
“We can go back,” I say, on the edge of my seat. “I can go back. I have the Dox. I can go back further and set things right. I can save them all.”
Tick, tick, tick… No. It is a fixed point.
I shake my head. “There has to be a way. Maybe Nobel can make a copy of the Dox. Then we would have two. I could use one to save Stein and—”
Tick, tick, tick… No. It is not possible. Tick, tick, tick… A fixed point is absolute. Tick, tick, tick… The events in that timeline… Tick, tick, tick… Will always remain unchanged. Tick, tick, tick… They will always happen as… Tick, tick, tick… They have already happened.
Then, in an uncharacteristic gesture, he adds, Tick, tick, tick… I am sorry, Alexei.
My mind spins like a hamster in a wheel. There has to be a way. I can’t just give up on them. On Anya. Maybe if I can’t save them all, I can at least save her. I can go back into Tesla and get her out. I can—
Tick, tick,
tick… You need to focus… Tick, tick, tick… On saving Stein.
I blink, surprised he brought it up.
Tick, tick, tick… We need her.
He’s right. Stein first. She will know what to do next. Together, we can get my sister out of Tesla. My heart beats double-time in my chest.
Without warning, the ground shudders under my feet, knocking bits of plaster and dust from the walls. I pitch forward out of my seat. From my hands and knees, I see a new message on Claymore’s board.
We are under attack.
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