Commander Boreman gave a low chuckle and sat down in his chair.
“Don’t worry,” he told her, “I’ve had worse reactions to that scar – taught me to make sure my enemy is properly dead.”
“It’s not that,” she breathed, “I just—”
She hesitated, unwilling to continue. The idea sounded crazy, even in her own mind.
“What?” Boreman asked, wiry eyebrows narrowing. His face was so familiar – there was no denying it. This was definitely an older version of her Ryan.
“I know you,” she said, the words spilling out. “You were right there with me. You were trying to save my dad, and then Marissa and I were fighting—”
“Marissa?” the Commander interrupted her, leaning forward in his chair. “You mean Marissa Sodovskaya? The renegade Timewalker?”
Cassie hesitated. “I don’t know. But she was working for Zero.”
“You’re not from here, are you?” Boreman asked, his voice firm but not unkind. “You’re not from the Prime world, I can feel it. You’ve come from the Shift – but if you’re back here, then where’s Marissa?”
“I don’t know,” she repeated, her voice hollow.
The Commander must have taken pity on her because he sighed, relenting his piercing gaze. He stood and walked over to a small cabinet that had several mugs hanging on metal hooks above a sink.
“There’s a lot you probably don’t understand about our universes,” Boreman said. “Tea?”
Cassie nodded, watching as older-Ryan took two teabags from a metal tin, placing one in each mug. He filled the mugs with cold water from the faucet. Something activated in the teabag and she heard the water heating vigorously in the cup. The Commander handed her one of the mugs, steam curling up from the water, the green tea smelling sweet and fresh.
“There’s no right way to explain it,” he said, sitting opposite. He placed his mug on the desk. “There are two worlds, or universes, out there. Ours, the original, which we call the Prime – and yours, the one we call the Shift. And because of that, there is more than one of everything. There are two of me, two of you, two of almost everything you can think of. Our universes are currently separated by almost twenty years, each traveling along their own path, parallel to each other.”
Ryan folded his hands in his lap, and for a moment, she saw his younger self again – calm, confident, unshakeable; perhaps the young Ryan had been born with an old soul that he had been waiting to grow into.
“You probably did know me. In this world, I worked for White Tower. I was Director of Temporal Adjustment before I joined the Resistance. In your world, White Tower was attacked in its infancy, when it was just an experimental weapons branch of the CIA; after that, their research and funding was taken over by the Bureau of Time. It’s likely I worked there as an operator.”
“That’s right,” Cassie murmured, grateful for the mug – it gave her something solid to hold onto, a physical anchor in this strange world. She added, “You were one of the best.”
Ryan laughed, a warm smile breaking through his military mask. Then his expression turned serious again. “You need to understand – our worlds are very different. The Prime, this world, suffered a great nuclear war that left most of the Earth in ruins.”
He gestured toward the window and the smoking husk of Chicago. “What’s left is tightly controlled by White Tower, an agency that has grown into an evil parasite, an authoritarian government that rations food, lets millions starve and freeze, while their elite live in luxury. And then there’s us, the Resistance, fighting to liberate our people and combat the propaganda that White Tower is shoving down their own people’s throats.”
Cassie took a sip of tea, the hot liquid burning her mouth and thawing her from the inside out. Her hands trembled, though from far more than just the chills alone.
“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “The Resistance – why did you destroy the Bureau of Time in our world? Why did Zero come and kill so many people?”
“That wasn’t us,” the Commander assured her, his voice urgent and sincere. “It’s true, the Resistance was founded by Zero and his Adjusters, but we no longer work together. I am the true leader of the Resistance, not Zero. That vile, disgusting creature is psychotic and dangerous. In his own warped mind, he thinks he’s in control of the Resistance, and he kills in our name with his legion of brainwashed Adjusters.”
Boreman’s voice had risen angrily. He took a deep breath, calming himself, and sank back into his chair. “But that still doesn’t help you, does it?”
“I just want to go home.” She looked down into her tea, her own tired and bruised face staring up at her.
“That might be difficult. We’re in the middle of a war against White Tower. We sustained heavy casualties taking Chicago. We need to regroup, restore power to the city and prepare to push further westward so we can rendezvous with the Californian branch.”
“So I’m stuck here?” she asked, her voice threatening to break. The tea suddenly felt cold, and she placed it on the desk, shivering.
“In a manner of speaking.” He offered a nonchalant shrug. “I understand this may be difficult for you—”
“Difficult?” she exclaimed. “Difficult is something kids say about – about exams! No, this whole thing, the Bureau, Adjusters, this – whatever the hell White Tower and Resistance is – this is not difficult, this is—”
She cut off in mid-sentence, unable to find the right combination of cusses to express herself; but she was afraid that if she bottled it all up, she would explode. Commander Boreman observed her with an irritating calmness, waiting her out.
“It hasn’t been easy for us either,” Boreman said, choosing his words carefully. “The Final War destroyed us, ripped our loved ones away. It broke us. We tried to erase our mistakes, but instead we created your world. A world filled with people who look exactly like us; only, our duplicates are twenty years younger than us – versions of ourselves that haven’t experienced the horror of a nuclear war, versions of ourselves that still have their families, still have green pastures and vibrant cities buzzing with life. But that world, it isn’t ours.”
Commander Boreman leaned forward. “White Tower plans to seize control of your world, occupy and take our people over there, against their will. This is our home. Right here. It might not be a good one, but it’s ours. We have to live with our decisions. We have to fix what we broke. And out of the ashes, a new civilization will rise, one built on the principles of hard work, sacrifice, and genuine care for our brothers and sisters. The nuclear fires have washed away the old governments; and once White Tower has been removed, when they no longer stand in our way, then we can rebuild our world, piece by piece, making it better than it ever was before!”
Cassie saw her own world dancing before her eyes, the busy metropolis of New York City where she had lived with her mother in the apartment on the Upper West Side; she thought of the rolling countryside of Pennsylvania, of the pink bedroom in her family home. She saw Brightwood Ranch, the forested hills, and the gentle countryside of Virginia.
Then she thought of the ruined city outside, the snow and ash, and the visions disappeared, replaced by darkness and despair.
“The Resistance fights against White Tower to build a better world for us all,” the Commander told her. “We need all the help we can get. I know you’re a Timewalker – and I know you worked for the Bureau of Time. That much is clear from what you’ve told me already. Otherwise, why would Zero have targeted you and your family?”
Cassie looked down at her hands, her fingernails caked with dried blood.
He looks like Ryan, she thought, but he’s different. He’s a Ryan who’s seen terrible things. He’s a Ryan who broke away from the agency he’d sworn to serve. The Ryan I knew believed in his government more than anything else in the world.
“What are you saying?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion.
“I’m asking for your help. We could use
a Timewalker here – help tip the scales in our favor. Zero is a splinter cell, a thorn in our sides. We know that he abducted people from your world, but we don’t know where he’s taken them. I promise you this, though: We will find your people. White Tower might be our enemy in this world, but we have nothing against the Bureau of Time. They were innocent bystanders in a war they knew nothing about, the target of Zero’s misguided crusade of personal vengeance against your world. We will find those hostages, and take them home. And when we’ve done that, we will close the connection between our worlds.”
“You would do that? You’d help rescue the Bureau’s agents? And stop people crossing between worlds?”
“We can rescue your people,” Boreman promised. “In exchange for your services, of course. White Tower controls almost all of the Timewalkers, and we need to level the playing field. And closing the connection between the worlds must be done – we can’t live our lives fearing what might come through from the other side.”
Cassie fell silent again.
She wanted to go home, but that was no longer an option – not yet, at least. Her mind was overwhelmed, dozens of thoughts tumbling around, each trying to shout louder than the other.
They made us as human weapons, Shaun said, his voice echoing in her mind. Which side had he chosen? Had he aligned himself with White Tower, or had he joined with Zero? She didn’t know what answer she wanted.
We swore to defend our country, above all else. ‘Country’ wasn’t right – there was more at stake here. Her entire world was in danger. She could do something though – she could help. It wasn’t the path she had wanted to walk, but right then, sitting opposite the older version of Ryan Boreman, she knew what she had to do.
She would fight with the Resistance, fight in a foreign universe against an enemy she barely knew. She would rescue the Bureau’s agents and return home to the people she loved. She met Commander Boreman’s gaze with a steely determination, a fire blazing in her stomach. She swallowed once, and then said the words that would seal her fate forever:
“I’ll help you destroy White Tower.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE STORM
Shaun spat a tooth into the mud, blood spilling from his mouth. Icy rain pummeled the back of his neck, and his clothes clung to his body like a second skin. The unnatural storm hung over Block Island, raging at the combatants, an impartial third-party to the bloody conflict. The ground slipped under his feet as he stumbled upright.
An Adjuster leaped toward him, framed in a single flash of lightning. His six-shooter roared, jerking his shoulder. The .45-caliber round punched a hole through the Adjuster’s chest, inky blood curling through the air. He turned away as the monster’s body dissolved into the fabric of the universe, the dying snarl drowned out by a thunderclap.
White Tower was slowly pushing across Eaglepoint’s grounds toward the main building, where the remnants of the Bureau’s force defended the lobby. Snipers provided cover fire from the roof, sticking their rifles around the edges of the satellite dishes, every shot taking down another enemy.
Adjusters teleported freely, vanishing and reappearing every few seconds, a blur of black jumpsuits and silver steel. Temporal Energy swirled around the area, a temporal storm accompanying the physical one. Strong winds gusted across the island, battering Shaun as he tried to stay upright.
Zero was nowhere to be found. He had teleported deeper into Eaglepoint Station, easily avoiding Shaun’s first attack. Carl Tallon – that son of a bitch – directed the Resistance’s forces from a safe distance, guarded by half a dozen of his own men. Miller pushed across the field, covered in blood, his futuristic shotgun exploding with a flash of green light, felling the enemy ranks.
But no matter how many rebel Adjusters they killed, more arrived to take their fallen comrades’ place. Forward Operating Base Chester had already exhausted its reserves; there were no reinforcements coming.
We have to end this, quickly. Tallon has the advantage in numbers – he’s just bleeding us out.
Shaun leaped over a mangled section of chain-link fence, angling toward Miller. More Adjusters appeared, and he barely had time to register the crimson sashes of the rebel force before opening fire. The first shot found its mark, the snarling Adjuster thrown backward, consumed by a swirling void before it hit the ground; the second teleported away, reappearing directly behind him, plunging its knife into his shoulder.
Shaun screamed, dropping face-first into the muddied ground. He couldn’t move; his shoulder burned in agony. His revolver slipped out of his grasp. A heavy boot crushed his lower spine and he let out a tortured gasp, red dots dancing before his eyes. He dipped into his Affinity, drawing on the river of T.E. surrounding him, rapidly Timewalking his injuries. A rough hand grabbed his wet hair and wrenched his head back.
Shaun felt cold steel against his throat. He thrashed against his attacker, using the slippery ground to his advantage. He pushed backward, the Adjuster tumbling forward into the mud. Shaun spun around, seized his revolver, his finger wrapping around the trigger. The Adjuster was already on all fours, face contorted in rage, dashing toward him.
A lightning strike masked the roar of his gun.
He pulled the knife from his shoulder with a sickening squelch, and Timewalked his injuries. The battle had moved toward the outpost now. He saw two bright flashes of light at the very top of the building and his startled shout died in the roaring wind. A pair of bodies fell lifelessly to the ground, sniper rifles following their owners down.
Shaun abandoned the knife and pushed off, racing toward the base, reaching into his Affinity, trying to locate Zero’s Signature, but something was blocking him – no, someone. He quickly changed course, angling toward Tallon, anger boiling up inside of him. He betrayed me. He betrayed us all. He has to pay, he has to pay—
“Shaun! Where are you going?” Miller’s voice thundered through Shaun’s skull.
“Tallon’s coordinating the assault!” Shaun replied, slowing his pace long enough to kill another pair of Adjusters. He focused his thoughts, channeling them into the NeuroHex, feeling his reply search out Miller’s comm device like a Bluetooth connection. “He has to be stopped!”
“Leave him. That’s an order, Timewalker. We need you to secure the base – we can’t hold Zero off much longer.”
“But—” Shaun stopped, Tallon still a hundred feet away, watching the battle like a medieval General, ordering his men to slaughter the defendants. There was a burst of light, almost as bright as the lightning strikes, and Miller teleported beside Shaun. He was breathing heavily, his uniform tattered and stained black, his distinctive ponytail dripping wet.
“Leave him,” Miller repeated, forcefully. “I’ll take care of Carl.” A shadow passed over his face, and his jaw tightened. “This is personal.”
Shaun hesitated. He wanted – what? He didn’t know what he wanted. They had to find Zero now, before he escaped again, but he was still too shocked by Tallon’s betrayal to think clearly. That was how Zero destroyed the Bureau of Time. Tallon was assisting him from the inside, bringing us down. How long had he been working for Zero?
More White Tower Adjusters teleported alongside Miller, each looking equally tired.
“We can’t hold on much longer,” he said, echoing Shaun’s thoughts. “There’s only one way to end this: cut off the head of the snake. Find Zero, and finish this.”
“How do you know I can stop him?” Shaun asked, shouting over the pouring rain. The storm was intensifying, the wind ripping the words out of his mouth. Miller clapped a hand on Shaun’s shoulder, and spoke in his mind this time, the words absorbing into his brain.
“Zero thinks he knows you, because he knows the man you became in the Prime universe. But White Tower changed fate when we created this world, when we broke the sacred laws of physics. You are different Shaun, in ways you can’t even begin to imagine – that’s how you beat Zero. Do the exact opposite of whatever he’s expecting. And be careful
– he’s far more powerful than any of us know. Be prepared for anything.”
Miller pulled out of Shaun’s mind, leaving a silent void behind. He turned his back and charged forward with a battle cry, his Adjusters prepared to make their final stand. Shaun tightened his grip on his revolver, then ran toward the base, blood pounding in his ears.
The lobby’s glass doors lay shattered on the ground, jagged shards stained red. His stomach clenched when he saw the bodies. A dozen soldiers and agents slumped against the walls, their guns abandoned. Shaun broke his revolver and retrieved a speedloader from his belt, slamming six new rounds into the gun and clicking the cylinder back into place.
The outpost was dark, the power cut.
Emergency chemical lighting in the ceiling cast a pale green glow in the corridors. Shaun moved forward, holding his revolver at shoulder-level, on-edge for any local fluctuations in T.E. The storm raged outside and the walls shook with the force of the wind, gunshots rising above the roar of nature’s fury.
He made his way upstairs, praying that he would find someone still alive, an agent or duty officer, someone. He found only bodies and bloodstains, some black from Adjusters, but many more bright red. With every corpse he passed, he became more and more determined, a burning hatred flaring in his core. On the top floor, he finally felt something – as his distance from Tallon increased, his Affinity was able to pick up a powerful signature sheltered behind the locked doors at the far end of the corridor.
Signs indicated that he was approaching the Comms Room, the heart of Eaglepoint Station and the very center of the Bureau’s intelligence and monitoring capabilities. Chemical lights painted the hallway the color of an underwater grotto, the storm quieting as he approached the doors.
With one hand gripping the revolver, Shaun stood before the entrance, his Affinity sending sharp pains through the back of his head. Zero was beyond that door, without a doubt. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest, and his breaths came short and sharp.
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