It wasn’t only the building that felt untouched and empty. Kyle looked outside the door to the street and saw that it was nearly pitch black. The glass from the building’s front door and windows were completely gone, shattered into tiny pieces, as if they’d been blown out by a sonic blast.
Kyle stepped cautiously out onto the sidewalk, his eyes still adjusting to the darkness. He could’ve never imagined New York City like this, quiet and abandoned. After a few minutes, his eyes adjusted a bit more and the moonlight provided enough light for Kyle to start moving. In addition to the complete lack of other people around, one of the first things Kyle noticed as he walked was that there were no cars crammed along every inch of curb like the New York City he knew, and even stranger, none driving in the street. It was as if the city had been evacuated of humans and their automobiles.
Every step Kyle took toward the site of the old Jacob Javits Convention Center was slow and deliberate as he made his way down 38th Street in the dark. In the world Kyle knew, the Javits was one of the largest convention centers in the world. As he walked, he saw that some awnings remained from businesses that were clearly long gone—a Dunkin’ Donuts, a shoe store, and something called Ace’s Containment Unit Supplies. Like cars and people, glass was nowhere to be found, at least not intact. Looking up at the building across the street from him, a few of the windows were covered with fabric curtains, but most were just empty holes.
Kyle came to some scaffolding, which looked crooked and unsteady. Some of the boards had fallen to the street below and none of the metal bars looked to be at ninety-degree angles to each other anymore. Given that there was no traffic, Kyle walked into the middle of the street to avoid passing under the rickety structure.
Seconds later, he felt the earth begin to move underneath his feet. Instinctively, he hustled further away from the scaffolding toward the other side of the street. But, as the shaking grew stronger, he had to stop and grab onto the metal post of a “no parking” sign just to keep from being knocked over. The violent shaking was going both back and forth, and up and down. Kyle remembered Allaire explaining that every jump through time created an instability, which could trigger earthquakes and other strange events.
The shaking didn’t die down for nearly thirty seconds. Kyle watched as the scaffolding completely collapsed on itself, the metal poles clanging to the street below, and the wooden boards booming down, thud after thud, dust swirling above the whole mess. He wondered to himself how many of these quakes the scaffolding had survived before finally succumbing here.
Kyle starting moving again as soon as the shaking stopped, hoping to get to the safety of the silo before any aftershocks. He had a feeling that earthquakes like this were part of the reason that Allaire’s home base in 2060 was built like a metal fortress.
He walked another two blocks and still hadn’t seen any sign of another person. His legs started to feel heavy as he walked, each step more of an effort than the last. He had gotten used to the sensation of time weaving, so much so that perhaps he’d stopped taking its after-effects into account. Or maybe the physical toll of such a long journey was just catching up with him now.
About a half block later, Kyle started to feel like it was a major effort just to stand up straight. Along with his feet feeling almost anchored to the ground, it felt like someone was sitting on his shoulders. Kyle’s heart began to race, unsure of what was happening to him.
It wasn’t a choice when he let himself move down toward the ground—he simply couldn’t remain upright. Kyle crouched at first, then sat down. He felt short of breath as well—not surprising considering the panicky thoughts he was having. Could this be a heart attack? Had his body not responded well to time weaving this time? He knew from talking to Allaire that not everyone could handle it physically. He wondered if perhaps he’d fooled himself into thinking he was specially suited for time travel.
Kyle stared up as he wondered what was wrong. The clouds moved fast in front of the moon, creating the illusion that the moon was moving downward at a rapid pace in the sky. There was no one around to rescue him, no one to call. He was in a completely foreign place, and still at least a mile from the silo. After a few minutes crouching down, hoping his energy would come back to him, Kyle instead felt an even greater push on top of his body. Again without even meaning to, Kyle was pressed onto his stomach. It was even harder to breathe now, as it felt like he was being crushed, even though there was nothing on top of him.
The closest Kyle had ever felt to this sensation before was on the Gravitron ride, a standard at the Flemming summer fair each year. He tried to lift his cheek off the ground and could barely manage it. The uneven surface of the concrete pressed hard into his ear. He noticed that the street was lined with birds, also laying on their sides, struggling against this odd gravitational pull. Kyle wondered how many times they’d experienced this sensation.
Perhaps they never had. Perhaps Kyle had come out of the time tunnel, and into the end of the world.
CHAPTER 5
July 24, 2060
* * *
Moments later
Kyle moved his eyes toward the sky, as his face began to burn from being pulled so hard toward the ground by this invisible force. He had a pounding headache that was, by far, the worst he’d ever had. As incapable of shock as he felt in the moment, Kyle recoiled when he saw the moon dropping through the sky even faster now. What he had thought was an illusion earlier caused by fast-moving clouds was not. The moon fell faster and faster until it disappeared. Where did it go? Kyle wondered.
Seconds later, the moon reappeared high in the black sky and proceeded to fall rapidly again. Over and over, Kyle watched as the moon spun through the sky only to reappear again. It was as if he were watching a time-lapse video of the moon orbiting the earth. But instead of it taking thirty days, each orbit was taking less than thirty seconds.
The sensation of being pushed so hard into the ground, along with the dizzying feeling of vertigo from seeing the moon falling toward the earth, only to disappear on the horizon, and then rise in the sky again, was too much. Kyle closed his eyes, sure he was going to die right there. Maybe this was the reason he didn’t see anyone else out on the streets. Maybe 2060 marked the end of humanity and his reward for coming through the tunnel again was a front-row ticket to the apocalypse.
He gritted his teeth and, even as his heart raced, he began to make peace with the idea that this was the strange ending to his story. He inched his head a tiny bit when he felt himself about to throw up, trying to puke away from where his face was being pressed into the ground. For all Kyle knew, the moon was actually standing still and it was the Earth that had accelerated its rotation so much that the delicate balance of gravity had been thrown off completely.
After about five minutes of waiting to die, Kyle felt the crushing force from above leveling out. It was still there, but lighter now. He tried pushing with his arms and sitting up and managed to contort his legs under him so he could get into a kneeling position.
Finally, a few minutes later, the moon slowed down, making a few final trips up into the sky and down past the horizon before eventually settling into its rightful place. As the moon ground to a halt, so did the last of the crushing feeling.
That was like nothing Kyle had ever experienced, and he wondered whether it was linked to the earthquake. He also wondered whether he had caused it all.
Kyle’s body felt tight—his pounding headache hadn’t let up—and his muscles were beyond fatigued. But he moved as fast as he could toward the site of the old Javits Center. He was three blocks away when he saw the giant metal cylinder, lit only by the moonlight. It was the silo, and he desperately hoped to find Allaire there and finally make her tell him everything. Make her explain whether he had some special role in whatever was happening. And, if not, why the version of himself they saw on the monitor in 2060—the one who lived all of these years between then and now—hadn’t aged at all. He believed—he needed to believe—t
hat Allaire was trying to make things better. That she was trying to fix whatever was wrong. And, if she could make him believe, he’d tell her that he was in. No equivocating. No running away. If she could make him understand, he would find a way to be the person she’d thought he was before he’d let her down.
Searching for Allaire had given Kyle focus when he’d had little else to focus on but three hundred forty dead because of decisions he made. Finally, here he was about to find out whether his efforts would pay off. For all of his guilt, the hope that he’d find her at some point, get some answers and, maybe, be able to contribute to her greater mission, had given him a reason to get up and go to his crappy job at the Mega-Market every day. If she turned him away, he’d literally have nothing to go back to.
He could feel his hands shaking, even as he breathed deeply and tried to calm himself. Kyle had been convinced just seconds earlier that his life was about to be over. He felt thankful that he’d get his chance to see if Allaire was in the silo.
He heard something behind him and practically jumped in the air as he turned around. There was nothing there, but he heard a low rumble. At first, he couldn’t make out the sound. But the closer it got, the clearer the sound became. It was some sort of chanting—deep and slow. Kyle stared down the street, away from the silo, as the sound got louder.
Then, Kyle saw a man with a shaved head appear and turn down the street toward him. There was another right behind, and then four more. Within a few seconds, Kyle saw a group of about twelve bald men heading toward him. They wore red shirts and brown pants and, now that he could hear it better, Kyle noticed that the chanting sounded more military than religious.
Curious as he was to get a look at “natives” of 2060, he didn’t like his chances should the chanters decide they meant harm to him. He started walking again toward the silo, even more quickly now.
Every time he looked over his shoulder, the men were closer. They were initially walking, but they’d moved into a jog. Kyle started to jog himself, and when he looked back—still two long city blocks from the silo—he saw them running full steam toward him. Their coordinated movements stopped, but the chanting continued as they raced after Kyle.
Two of the men in red were ahead of the rest. They were making up ground on Kyle, and he knew there was no way he was going to get inside the silo before they caught up.
As he stopped and steeled himself for whatever was in store, he noticed that four of the men were holding long sticks. He also observed that the sticks had sharp points on them, which, as they got closer, he realized were knives tied onto broom handles. The four men held their makeshift bayonets over their shoulders. Kyle also noticed now that several in the group were women.
The group slowed down as it approached Kyle. When they reached him, they all stood for a moment sizing him up as their slowest members caught up. A young woman stepped forward. She had a sour look on her face that Kyle doubted ever came off. The whole group looked unclean and like they’d been wearing their clothes for ages. They wore red shirts with brown pants, but their “uniforms” were anything but, the shades and styles of the clothes varying from t-shirts to button-downs, and jeans to workout pants.
The young woman’s mouth moved before any words came out. “Skeeeken dem barfoo?”
“I’m sorry?” Kyle said, unsure whether she was speaking accented English or something else altogether.
“Skeeeken dem barfoo?” she asked again, as if Kyle were dense for not understanding. “Toom Skaleee?”
Kyle shook his head. “Do you speak English? I only speak English.”
Before he could get his words out, the entire group behind the young woman started chanting again. “Barfoo . . . Barfoo . . . Bar . . . Bar . . . Foo . . . ” they sang, over and over. This was the same thing they’d been chanting as they were chasing him only moments earlier.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re saying to me,” he said.
“You speak English because you are a time jumper,” she said in accented English, still using an accusatory tone with him. “English were outlawed in the forties.”
Kyle didn’t say anything at first.
The woman frowned at him. “Yes. We know your secret.”
The people behind her kept chanting. She took a step closer. “How far have you seen?”
“How far?” Kyle asked.
“How far into the future have you seen?” she asked. “Are there any people left?”
He wondered how these people even knew about time weaving. “This is it,” he answered. “This is the furthest I’ve gone.” Kyle sensed that it would be unwise to tell them that the tunnel gave him no option for traveling any further.
The chanters began to move forward. Within seconds, Kyle was completely surrounded with no chance of running away. “Who are you?” he asked.
“Mayor Jada,” she said. “Mayor of New York. These are my citizens. There are more, but not many more. And this is all because of you!” She moved even closer to his face. “Time jumpers!”
“I’m not . . . ” Kyle asked. “What’s because of them?”
The chanting got louder and louder as the group surrounded him. “Everything. That moonfall. The earthquakes. There are quakes every single day now. Sometimes two or three! I remember before, when there were no quakes. They say it’s rumors, but we know. If you were from this time, you would speak Barfoo, like the rest of us, what few there are. Soon, the rest of the buildings will fall. And it’s your fault, time jumper.”
Kyle wondered what a better version of 2060 might look like. Whether there might be new technologies all over the place, instead of this grim setting that looked barely futuristic at all. He imagined pillars flying through the skies. Holographic street signs. All of the things he’d loved in science fiction books as a little kid.
“You are going there?” she asked, pointing to the silo.
Kyle nodded.
“Take us with you. Show us how to make things better. No more quakes.”
The people behind her changed their chanting now. “No quaaaaaakes . . . No quaaaaaakes.”
“How do you do it?” she screamed over the loud chanting. “How do you go back?”
“You can’t,” he said.
The young woman’s eyes closed to slits as she looked angrily at Kyle. “Don’t say it! We know you can go back!”
“Even if one of you went back and made things better,” he said, “it wouldn’t help the rest of you. You exist here. All of these people with you exist here. Nothing changes that.”
Saying the words crystalized in Kyle’s mind that he hadn’t really understood when Allaire had explained it to him. Every time Kyle time weaved back to the past and changed something, he wasn’t changing the future he’d just left, he was creating an entirely new future. He wondered what happened to the threads of time left behind. Did the stragglers cease to exist? Did they go on in whatever direction they were already headed? He didn’t know, but he knew he was in no position now to help these people.
“Give us the way,” Mayor Jada said. “Show me how to do it. We will all go somewhere else. To another time.”
Kyle was suddenly very aware of the silk blot folded into the pocket of his hoodie. If they took that from him, and he struck out at the silo, then he’d be stuck here permanently in this near-apocalyptic version of 2060.
“I’m sorry,” Kyle said, backing away. “I’d make it better if I could.” He turned and tried to walk in between two women standing behind him, but they stepped closer together and blocked his way.
“We have been waiting a long while to catch a jumper outside of the steel castle,” the woman said. “It’s time to share, jumper. Give us a way out too.”
Before Kyle knew it, the entire group was grabbing at him. They were searching his pockets and pulling him to the ground. He tried to keep his arm at his side, concealing the silk blot in his pocket. But, once he was down on the ground, some of the group members started taking kicks at his ribs, then h
is chest. Only a few seconds after he brought his arms up to protect his head, he felt someone grab the blot out of his pocket.
He watched as a guy his age, or maybe even younger, handed the silk blot to Mayor Jada. The group’s attention immediately shifted to her as she held it up in front of her. They all looked at it with a sense of wonder. As much as these people were now major obstacles for Kyle, he could still understand the hope in their eyes. These weren’t monsters, he thought to himself, these were people living a very hard existence.
“Is this the magic silk?” Mayor Jada asked, a slight smile now curled on her lips. “I didn’t know if the rumors were true. It looks like a handkerchief. I can use this to go time jumping?”
Kyle didn’t know what to do. If any of them went through the blot, he could be stranded here. “No,” he said.
“You’re a liar!” she said. “You jumpers want it all to yourselves. But not anymore!”
Kyle sat up on the ground as he watched the entire group examine the blot. He could see moonlight coming through the small hole that remained in the silk blot. Eventually, they’d figure out how to get into the tunnel. He might have an opening to make a run for the silo now. But that would mean giving up on the blot.
Just as he thought about jetting off, he saw Mayor Jada’s eyes turn toward him. “How does it work?”
“It’s broken,” he said. “See that hole? You won’t be able to use it anyway.” It was a Hail Mary. He knew it could be used, even with the hole, and they’d know it too. There was no reason to believe that they’d take him at his word, but he had to try.
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