Once we lift off, I peer at the ground. Someone will undoubtedly follow us. But nobody does.
I turn to the Nulls and grin. They’ve removed the helmets.
It’s Elijah and Zed.
43
ALORA
JULY 4, 2013
By the time I break out of the forest, I’m panting so hard I can barely breathe. I’ve got to get in the house. I need to get to the landline phone since mine is missing.
I run to the back porch and try to open the door, but it’s locked. Aunt Grace never leaves the house open when she’s gone. I close my eyes for a second. Think. Think. My eyes snap open as I remember the spare key under the back porch steps. A noise startles me, and I whirl around.
Palmer is tearing across the backyard, closing in fast.
My heart pounds as I run down the steps and race to the front of the inn. I know it’s useless, but I have to try the front door. It’s locked. I jump off the left side of the porch and duck behind the shrubs. Maybe Palmer will think I ran down the driveway and head that way. Then I can go back and get the spare key.
But I can’t move until I know where he is.
The seconds stretch into infinity. Sweat trickles down my back and I start shaking. His footsteps grow louder and louder as he searches for me. His heavy breathing gets closer and closer.
“Come out, Jane. There’s no point in hiding.”
Oh, yes there is.
I wait until the footsteps start to fade. I wish I could see where he went.
My mind goes back to the cottage and how I got out. I wished I was outside, and then I was. Bridger was right—I have some kind of ability. But he said I could travel in time. I didn’t do that. I just made myself go somewhere else, like I did every time I blacked out. I squeeze my eyes shut and wish to be with Aunt Grace.
Nothing happens.
Damn! Why didn’t it work now? I try again and again, but still nothing happens. I want to scream. I want to get away from here.
After what feels like a century, I force myself to crawl out of the shrubs. I feel naked and exposed. I push away the urge to crawl back in there and stay hidden. Stay safe. Which is stupid, because I’ll never be safe with Palmer prowling around.
I try to pretend I’m weightless as I make my way around back again. I crouch by the bottom step and feel under it. I can’t find the key.
I sweep my hand back and forth, my head jerking in every direction. Every little sound I hear could be Palmer coming to get me.
Please don’t let him come.
Finally, my fingers touch something small and smooth in the dirt. I snatch it out and almost gasp in relief. It’s the key.
I fly up the steps, careful to avoid the second one from the bottom that always creaks. I’m almost to the door—almost inside—when Palmer rounds the side of the inn, his breathing labored.
I freeze. Maybe he won’t see me.
But he does.
He bolts across the yard. I barely have time to register that he’s holding something.
A gun.
My hands shake, and I nearly drop the key. It’s so hard to see the lock. The shadows are no longer my friend. I fumble and finally the key slides in. I twist the handle, push open the door, and slam it shut just as Palmer reaches the top step.
He bangs on the door and screams, “You better let me in. I swear things will be a lot worse for you if you don’t.”
I back away, horrified. How can things get any worse?
My legs almost crumple as I hurry to Aunt Grace’s study. That’s where she keeps the landline. The pounding on the door is thunder throughout the house. I try to ignore it and open the study. But the knob won’t turn. This can’t be happening.
The thunder from the door grows louder, more forceful. Suddenly it bursts open and Palmer staggers inside.
I back away, but he’s pointing the gun at me.
“I’ve got you.”
Three little words, and yet they shatter me into a thousand pieces.
“Now come here,” Palmer says. I don’t move. I can’t. He advances toward me, saying, “I said, come here.”
And then he’s right in front of me. Before I can process what’s about to happen, he slaps me. I fall to the floor, tasting blood on my lips. The blood does something to me, brings up a wild part of me that I didn’t realize existed. He’s going to kill me, but not without a fight.
I jump to my feet and lash out at him. My fists connect with his chest and his face.
My body feels electric. Maybe I can stop him. Maybe I can get the gun away.
I should have known better. All it takes is another powerful slap from him, and I’m back on the floor. This time I hit my head against something. I lay there, stunned, and stare up at him. He towers over me with an arrogant expression on his face.
I want to curl up and cry. So this is it. This is how I’m going to die. But something behind Palmer moves.
I cock my head to the side and gasp as someone steps into the hallway from the foyer.
It’s the same girl I saw earlier, the one who looks so much like me.
44
BRIDGER
APRIL 29, 2146
“Ican’t believe you two just did that,” I say.
“Don’t look so shocked, man,” Elijah says. He extracts a key card out of his pocket and swipes it across the cuffs binding my hands together. The lock releases with a click. I slide the cuffs off and then he does the same to the Inhibitor around my neck. When I remove it, I feel lighter.
Free.
“Yeah, you look like you’ve seen some real ghosts.” Zed twists around from the pilot seat and laughs. “I wish I could’ve taken a digigraph.”
“What . . . how did you do it?” I ask, sinking down on the nearest chair. I remember Professor March’s message just before they burst in the med facility. “So Professor March helped, right?”
“I’d like to take credit for this whole ingenious plan, but I can’t lie. Professor March was indeed the mastermind. We were merely his instruments of chaos.” Zed puffs out his chest and waggles his eyebrows. “But I won’t turn down any pledges of your undying gratitude.”
“Hey, how about stick to the piloting?” Elijah shakes his head and takes the seat across the aisle from me. “So are you okay, man? I know all of this has to be a shock.”
I don’t speak for a few moments. Something isn’t right. I ask Zed, “Are we being followed yet?”
“No. We’re in the clear.”
“Are you sure? They can track the transport.”
“It’s all part of the plan,” Elijah interrupts. “Professor March made sure they wouldn’t be able to track us. We’re safe.”
They’re fired up about the plan, but I can’t relax. The whole thing reeks. I know how much General Anderson wanted to have my memories extracted. He couldn’t wait for me to become a Null. He’ll move the heavens to get me back in his custody.
Unless he wanted me to escape. And if that’s the case, then Professor March is working with him. Against me. I lean over like someone punched me in the gut.
“Are you sick?” Elijah asks.
“Not like you’re thinking.” I can’t believe Professor March would betray me. My suspicions spill out like vomit.
Elijah lets out a low whistle. “So March didn’t tell you anything? That is weird, but I don’t think it means he’s working with Anderson.”
“But don’t you think this is too easy?”
“Not if March is stalling them,” Elijah reasons. “That’s what he said he was going to do.”
I want to believe him. Professor March was Dad’s best friend. It doesn’t make sense for him to use me to get info about where Dad went.
I go over everything I’ve learned so far about Alora. The pieces of the puzzle are sliding in place. If I could only find the last few. Adalyn mentioned that Nate thought he was cloned. Why would the DTA do that when cloning was outlawed so many years ago? And when did Dad shift to the Foster Assassination to
tell me to save Alora? Before his death?
Or is he really dead?
I know Adalyn asked Dad to go back and save Alora, but I wonder if there’s another reason he was there. I mean, he risked throwing his whole career away.
And I think of Alora’s death date. My heartbeat quickens—that’s where I’ll find Dad. Alora doesn’t belong in the past, but what if I can’t save her? Dad obviously didn’t. If he couldn’t, how can I? Losing Dad and Vika so close together was the worst thing to ever happen to me. I’m not sure what I’m feeling for Alora, but the thought of losing her forever makes my stomach lurch.
“Hey, did Professor March happen to leave a Chronoband in here?” I ask, remembering the whole problem I had with free shifting.
Zed pipes up, “Yep, it’s up here with me. Safe and sound. And he left a comm-set, too.”
He tosses them back to me, one at a time. I fasten the Chronoband to my wrist and place the comm-set on the seat next to me.
So Professor March thought of everything. I should be glad. Instead, a sense of dread descends over me. I have to make myself say, “Okay then. Let’s get to Georgia.”
Two hours later we land behind the inn-slash-museum. Nobody from the DTA is there. I guess they were recalled after my capture. We make our way into the forest. I don’t have a cloak, so I need to materialize where nobody will see me.
“We’ll wait here for you,” Elijah says. “Good luck.”
“Yeah, ditto that,” Zed says. He play punches me on the arm and then grows serious. “Just make sure you do come back.”
I start to make a smart remark about Zed getting sentimental, but it suddenly hits me—I could die. Just like my dad.
But I’ve got to try. I place the comm-set on my head and force a smile as I say my goodbyes. Then I activate the Chronoband and shift.
45
ALORA
JULY 4, 2013
Palmer notices I’m looking behind him. He glances back and hisses, “Who are you?”
The girl smiles—a cold smile that doesn’t reach her eyes—and raises her arm. A small, silvery object glistens in her hand.
“Drop it or I’ll shoot,” Palmer says.
“I don’t think so,” she replies in a clipped voice with a trace of a weird accent. Her eyes close, and she vanishes.
Palmer yells, “What the hell!” He circles in place, while holding the gun ahead of him. I try to shrink myself into a ball on the floor.
“Who is she?” Palmer asks, now pointing the gun at me. I can’t speak. All I see is the tip of the barrel. I imagine the bullet speeding out and hitting me. “Is she your sister? Answer me!” He yanks me up and drags me to the foyer, his head swiveling back and forth.
She suddenly reappears next to him. Palmer doesn’t have time to react. She slams her fist into the side of his face and snatches the gun from his grip as he staggers.
Palmer quickly regains his balance and charges at her. A bright blast flashes between them, and then he collapses to the floor, twitching.
“That was wild.” The girl kicks Palmer hard in the ribs. He grunts but otherwise doesn’t say anything. “Don’t worry,” she says. “He’s not going anywhere for a while. Furing psycho.” She kicks him again, then looks at me. “Do you know he’s murdered fifteen girls over the past five years? You were supposed to be number sixteen. All because he flirted with two of his former students and they turned him in.”
I clutch my arms to my stomach as I stare at the scene. At the girl who just saved me. Who is she? How does she know all of that about Palmer?
I really look at her. She’s dressed in my clothes. I hadn’t noticed it until now, but she’s wearing the same dress I wore to Levi’s party back in April. I’d hid it in the back of my closet.
“It looks good on me, doesn’t it?” she asks as she twirls. “Nice for something so archaic.”
“Why are you wearing it?”
She gives me a flippant shrug. “Maybe I wanted to see what it felt like to be the favorite daughter.”
Okay, now she’s starting to freak me out. I take a few steps back, but she fixes me with a frosty gaze, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Stay where you are.”
The words are a slap. “What? I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re blank.”
“I’m what?”
“Blank. It means you’re empty up here,” she says, tapping the side of her forehead with the silver object. “You don’t know anything.”
I hate feeling like a trapped animal for the second time in the same night, for not understanding her. “What do you mean?”
The girl rolls her eyes. “This is so tedious. I’ll say this so even a Null could get it. You are not from this time. You are from the future.” She says each word slowly, like I’m too stupid to understand. “Our father broke the law. He brought you here and abandoned you to his sister. Our beloved aunt.”
If anybody said this to me before I met Bridger, I would’ve laughed in their face. Not anymore. Remembering what he said about traveling in time and waking up in different places after blacking out . . . yeah, it doesn’t sound so strange now.
“If that’s the case, why are you so mad at me? I don’t even know you,” I say.
She fixes me with a contemptuous gaze. “That’s because we’ve never met.”
46
BRIDGER
JULY 4, 2013
It’s dark when I appear in 2013. Moonlight streaks through the trees, giving me just enough light to see. I was aiming for around eight o’clock. The article detailing Alora’s death pinpointed it happening between nine and ten.
The smell of smoke and burning wood envelops me as I push my way through the branches and brambles. An orange glow flickers through the forest. It has to be the old abandoned house. My mouth grows dry. That’s where Alora’s body is supposed to be found.
I start to head in that direction, but my skin crawls with the feeling I’m not alone. I activate the comm-set and scan my perimeter. A Time Bender is here. And he’s heading my way.
It’s Dad.
And he looks pissed.
I’ve never been so glad to see him in my entire life. My legs fly as I run to meet him, and I practically tackle him. I want to laugh and cry. He’s real. He’s here. He’s still alive.
Dad is rigid at first, but then he embraces me. I feel safe, like I did when I was a kid. He pulls away too soon. “What’s going on, son? What are you doing here?”
“Where’s Alora? Is she safe?”
“Whoa, wait a minute.” Dad rubs the back of his head like he does when he’s thinking. “First off, I just arrived here myself from July third. I’ve been following Alora to see if I can figure out a way to prevent her death. And second, how do you even know about Alora?”
I give him the abbreviated version of how I got dragged into this mess.
Dad’s face morphs from shock to anger to disbelief. When I’m finished, he runs his hands along the sides of his face. “Bridger, I don’t understand. I’ve never been to the Foster Assassination. I just found out about Alora a week ago from her mother. She gave me this.” He extracts a DataDisk from his pocket.
“I know. I found it in your desk back at the apartment.”
“I never left it in my desk.” Dad closes his eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you’ve got to go back to our time. Now.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got to make sure Alora’s safe.”
“That’s what I’m here for, son.”
We stare at each other. I want to tell him he won’t. Not if he’s alone. But how do I tell him that from my perspective, I’m talking to a ghost? That he’s been dead for two months?
A scream pierces the silence. Our heads jerk toward the inn. Dad whispers, “Alora.”
47
ALORA
JULY 4, 2013
I feel as if I’m outside my body, watching the scene in front of me. The girl takes three steps forward and grabs
my arm. I try to snatch it back, but I can’t. She’s stronger than she looks.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, trying to stall her. “Why would you want to kill me if we’re sisters?
“I have no attachment to you. I didn’t even know you existed until a few months ago.”
“What?”
“Let’s just say I’ve had access to some interesting info lately. That’s how I found you. How I found that our father always took you to Green Zones to play and gave you gifts when you were little. You know what he did for me? Nothing.”
I take in her crazed expression and Palmer’s gun shaking in her hand. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was jealous.
“You know, I shifted back here once before. I wanted to get to know you before you were supposed to die, but then I saw you making moves on my Bridger. So don’t expect me to feel any love for you.”
I blink a few times. Her Bridger? “What are you talking about? I never tried to hit on him.”
“Don’t lie. I saw the two of you getting all cozy at the river once, when I did a free shift.”
I wonder if she’s talking about the time he kissed me or one of the other times we were at the river. And then it hits me. Bridger must be her boyfriend. Bridger claimed he wanted to help me recover my memories, but I knew he liked me. What if he kissed me because I look like her?
I feel sick. I wish this was a nightmare and I’d wake up and find Aunt Grace making me hot chocolate and blueberry pancakes. I’d tell her about the nightmare and everything would be rainbows and sunshine again. Except this isn’t a nightmare.
I should be afraid. I should beg her for my life. It’s not my fault our father was involved in my life. And I can’t even remember that. It all happened so long ago.
But you can’t reason with someone who’s nuts. I know that from dealing with Trevor. What can I do? She has a weapon. I have nothing.
Something beeps. The girl checks a band on her wrist, one that looks like Bridger’s, and groans. “We have visitors.”
I take the only chance I might have. I reach behind me and grab the flower vase on the foyer table. She turns back as I hurl the vase at her and she fires the gun. I drop to the floor, wishing I was outside. I picture it perfectly in my mind. Me in the front yard.
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