Seize Today

by Dunn, Pintip

  There’s no sign of Potts or the bloodhounds. No excited barking at the sound of our footsteps, no clinking of the chains as a nose or two pokes through the fence. Weird. Potts doesn’t stray far from his cabin, other than his two annual camping trips. He just went on one last week. Would he be on another already? And would he take all his dogs?

  I reach into his future…and I hit a blank wall. The same wall I crash into when I reach into my mother’s future, the same wall that I encounter on any pathway after May Fourth. Not just partially blank this time—but fully, completely, entirely blank.

  My mouth dries. The hair on the back of my neck prickles. First, the partial block on Callie’s future; now, the total block on Potts’s. What’s going on? Have I lost my precognition altogether?

  Testing, I reach into Angela’s future and see her nursing Remi. I reach into Ryder’s future and see him brushing the hair off my forehead. In fact, every pathway that doesn’t involve Callie is still perfectly clear. So, no. My ability’s still here. It’s just the futures of certain people that are blocked.

  I don’t get it. Potts should be the last person in this world affected by the time stream virus. He has no contact with the outside world. He has next to no technology. He’s never mentioned receiving a future memory, and the chances of him time traveling are low to nil. I mean, he doesn’t even like the ComA. So, he wouldn’t have had any exposure to any scientists. Why is his future closed off to me? Will he die, too? No, that can’t be right. I haven’t been able to reach into my mother’s futures for years, and she’s still very much alive.

  I let out a slow breath. I suppose it doesn’t matter. Not at this precise moment. I don’t need Potts to get inside. He doesn’t use a biometric scanner, and I’ve known that he hides a pre-Boom key under the front doormat ever since my second visit.

  Pushing my uneasiness away, I retrieve the key and open the front door. “Here we are,” I say to the gang. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

  Mikey leads the way, taking slow, exaggerated steps like he’s navigating a minefield. I don’t blame him. He may have agreed to trust me, but they haven’t set foot in a residential structure of any sort for the last six months. I brought them here only because Callie’s getting worse by the day. We need a place where they can be safe while I go back to FuMA and retrieve a batch of formula.

  Once Mikey is inside and no alarms go off, he gestures for the others to follow him.

  Angela sinks onto the living area floor, loosening the sling to let Remi down so that she can nurse her. As previously discussed, Ryder sits cross-legged next to his mom. Shortly after the little girl’s near-fatal accident, Angela announced the two-adult rule: while they are having these episodes, two adults must be close by Remi at any time.

  Callie and Logan walk into the cabin last, their eyes wide and their breathing shallow.

  “Is something wrong?” I ask.

  Callie licks her lips. “Who did you say the owner was?”

  “His name is Potts.”

  She and Logan exchange a look, and then he trails his fingers over the old-fashioned glider, the sofa with the triangular cushions, the utilitarian end tables. “Unbelievable,” he says under his breath. “This place looks exactly the same, and it’s been over ten years.”

  I frown. “You’ve been here before?”

  “Yes.” His gaze crawls back to Callie, and she nods, once. “The day before Callie injected the syringe into her heart,” he continues. “She sprained her ankle as we were coming back to civilization, and Potts helped us out.”

  “He was so kind to me,” she says. “He put this magic salve on my ankle. Made it better right away.”

  Logan tangles his fingers in her hair and tugs her close, as if remembering the fateful day that resulted in him losing her to a coma for a decade.

  She leans back against his chest. “Potts talked about a mountain community. Remember that? A group of people who wanted nothing to do with technology, who had been living together, in their way of life, even before the Boom. Whatever happened to them?”

  “They’re still there, I guess,” I say. “I don’t hear about them much. ComA’s never been interested in them.” I gnaw on my cheek. But why not? Sure, the mountain people don’t bother anybody, but ComA is interested in everybody.

  “I’ve always wondered about them,” Callie murmurs. “Wondered if Potts was one of them.” She and Logan drift to the sofa, the one they must’ve sat on all those years ago. They settle in, holding hands and whispering, lost in memories of yesterday.

  I frown. Is she right? I never considered the idea before, but it would make sense if Potts is one of the mountain people. It would explain his disinterest in technology.

  Ryder joins me, his eyes trained on his sister. Angela’s laid Remi in her inflatable crib and is rocking it and humming. Behind them, Mikey’s fiddling with a panel on the wall.

  “She wouldn’t nurse,” Ryder says, rubbing his eyes. “Angela says it’s gotten worse since the accident. She won’t eat any of our rations, either. Yesterday, when I was changing her, I could see every one of her ribs.”

  “I’ll look in Potts’s pantry,” I say. “He has only that basic Meal Assembler, but maybe I can find something Remi will like.”

  “No rush. Angela wants her to nap before we try feeding her again.”

  We lapse into silence. I rack my mind, trying to think of something to say.

  The problem, I suppose, is that I can still feel the sweet ache of his kiss. True to his word, the kiss was confined to that moment alone. He hasn’t touched me since. He’s barely even spoken to me. I’m not sure why he’s here now.

  “You look…disturbed,” he says, angling forward.

  “Oh.” I flush. Like Limbo I’m going to admit I was thinking about our kiss. “It’s, um, Potts’s absence,” I say, reaching for the first thing on my mind. “He hardly ever leaves his cabin, so I’m not sure why he isn’t here now.” I take a deep breath. “I don’t know. I have a funny feeling about it.”

  “We should tell Mikey,” he says immediately.

  “It’s nothing concrete,” I protest. “Just a feeling.”

  “You’re a precognitive, Olivia. I would never dismiss any of your feelings.” He turns to look for Mikey, but he’s not there anymore.

  All of a sudden, I realize that the panel has been moved from the wall. Behind it is an entryway into a small room. I blink. A secret door to a secret room. Potts is the simplest person I know. What could he possibly be hiding?

  At the same moment, Mikey appears in the entry to the room, where he has apparently ducked inside. “We have to leave.”

  Angela’s hand stops mid-rock. “What? Remi just went to sleep.”

  “I don’t care.” Mikey rakes his fingers through his hair. “It’s not safe here.”

  “Potts is neutral. No one will think to look for you in his cabin.” I stop. At least, I thought he was. In the pathways I could see, we were safe here. But I didn’t see all of them. I have several blank spots in my vision now. Maybe I didn’t pay enough attention to those holes. Maybe, for the first time I can remember, I am dead wrong.

  Mikey is studying me carefully. “Potts is neutral, is he? Then why was your mom here?”

  “What?” I gape.

  “Come see.” Abruptly, he turns on his heel and walks back into the room. I follow him in—and gasp.

  The room is small, but it is better outfitted than most labs in the Technology Research Agency, or TechRA. Panels of instruments cover each wall, and four com terminals are crowded together in the center of the room. Mikey moves directly to the keyball and runs his hands over the spherical surface. A moment later, a holo-doc pops into the air. “This is the security log. Says right here the chairwoman’s biometrics were scanned two days ago.”

  My knees go weak. “That can’t be right. Potts doesn’t even have a biometric scanner. This is a simple log cabin.”

  Mikey looks pointedly around the room. “He doesn’t have a s
canner you know about. But it doesn’t seem like you know him very well, do you? Why was your mother here, Olivia?”

  “Maybe she trailed us last week,” Ryder suggests. “Maybe she came back later to interrogate Potts.”

  “But no one followed us,” I protest. “I made sure of it.” I grab my temples as something occurs to me. “Oh Fates. That’s why Potts is gone. My mom arrested him—and all of his dogs, too. Because he helped us. What have I done?”

  Mikey shakes his head slowly. The lights from the machines blink behind him, mocking me. “Hate to break it to you, but that wasn’t the chairwoman’s first visit. She’s logged over a dozen trips here in the last ten years.”

  “No way.” I push past Mikey so that I can get a closer look at the holo-doc.

  I rub my eyes. And rub them again. But there’s no denying what’s in the air. In regular intervals over the last decade, my mother’s biometrics have been scanned at Potts’s over a dozen times. The visits were less frequent in the beginning, but lately, she’s been coming every month. Did she know I was sneaking here? Or did she visit Potts for another reason entirely? One that has nothing to do with me?

  I let out a shaky breath. “I know how this looks. But I promise you, I’m not betraying you. I had no idea my mother even knew Potts.”

  Mikey sighs. “You know what? I actually believe you. But we still have to get out of here.”

  All of a sudden, the room darkens, as though a large object is passing over the skylight in the living area. I dash out of the secret room into the living area and look straight up into a panel of black metal.

  My stomach drops. We didn’t hear a sound, and it isn’t any wonder. A stealth copter.

  Limbo, Limbo, Limbo.

  “It’s too late,” I say faintly. “ComA’s already here.”

  28

  As if on cue, Remi lets out a shriek. For a moment, we freeze, the cry wrapping around us and keeping us in place.

  “What do we do?” Callie asks.

  But she’s not looking at Mikey. She’s looking at me. In fact, they’re all turned toward me, even the leader of the Underground himself.

  “Hide,” I blurt out. “There’s a cellar underneath the sink in the eating area. Potts said it was the only place he could find to put it.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I realize how unlikely this is. He has a hidden room behind a wall. How many other secret places do I not know about? I can’t believe I was so gullible, taking everything he said and did at face value.

  The others spring into action, unconcerned about my naïveté. Ryder is barely able to fold his tall frame into the cabinet, where the entrance to the cellar is located, but he manages. I hear a clatter against wood, as if someone has just fallen down the stairs, and wince. But at least they’re inside.

  I walk back into the living area and have just folded my hands demurely when the door flies open.

  My mother strides into the room, flanked by four guards, her icicle heels leading the way. It’s been a week since I’ve seen her. A week since I shoved her into the reclining chair, since I pressed the button that strapped her arms and thighs into place. A week since I made her relive the memory reel of humankind’s worst phobias. And yet, I swear the fine lines along her eyes have multiplied. The hair pulled so tightly into a chignon is more gray than silver, more tired than sophisticated.

  We regard each other. Correction. She circles me like I’m the newest iteration of a bot on sale to the highest bidder. I do my best to keep my expression placid. Not blinking, not flinching, and especially not cowering.

  “That will be all,” my mother says to the guards, her tone as crisp as autumn apples. “You may return to the copter.”

  The guards exchange a glance.

  “With all due respect, Chairwoman, it wouldn’t be prudent for us to leave you in such a high-risk security situation,” the one with the three metal bars across his shoulders says. A scar snakes down the side of his face.

  A shiver runs through me. Could this be…Scar Face, the guard who harassed Callie all those years ago? Jessa tried to track him down, but without a real name, she didn’t have any luck.

  Now I know why. If Scar Face became captain of the guards, then his underlings would never admit to recognizing the description of his scar.

  “This is not a security situation,” my mother snaps. “This is my daughter.”

  “A daughter who tortured you,” Scar Face returns smoothly. “By the time we found you, your clothes looked like they had been dunked in a swimming pool. You didn’t stop twitching for days. I would strongly advise that you let us remain.”

  My mother draws herself to her full height, pulling the cloak of authority around her. Uh-oh. Bad move, Scar Face, throwing her physical deficiencies in her face. The guard’s chances of convincing her have evaporated.

  “You have five seconds to leave before I relieve you of your stations,” she says calmly.

  The guards start, confer with their eyes, and then scurry out of the cabin with one second to spare.

  “That’s better.” She gestures to the couch, ever the mistress even in someone else’s home. “Sit down,” she says grandly. “And then, you may apologize to me.”

  “Limbo, no,” I say. “You deserved to suffer. After all those people you killed, after the little kids you tortured, I should’ve trapped you in that machine for an entire day.”

  Her head rears back like I’ve slapped her. And no wonder. I’ve never spoken to her this way, ever. No matter how cruel she was, I always reminded myself of her alternate futures, the pathways where there was a reason for her madness, where a red heart beats underneath her cruelty. I was always convinced that she was a good person underneath all her complicated layers.

  No more. She no longer gets a free pass for her actions in this life, in this time stream.

  “What was your worst phobia?” I ask. “You know, the one that made you scream the loudest. The one that the com detected and made you live over and over until you collapsed.” The words pour out of me. Now that I started telling my mother how I really feel, I can’t seem to stop. “For Tanner, it was heights. Remember when you did that, Mother? When you took a six-year-old boy who had just mysteriously ‘lost’ his parents and made him feel like he was falling to his death, again and again, for six long months. Was that one of your finest moments, Mom?”

  She pushes herself off the couch and stalks up and down the living area. “Do you think I wanted to torture them? That I was doing it for my own pleasure?”

  “You needed information,” I say mockingly. “You had to do whatever it took to get it.”

  “Exactly. The ends justify the means.” Her voice rises. “None of this is random; none of it is senseless. Everything I do is with an ultimate goal in mind. With all of your vast knowledge of the future, how can you not see that?”

  “There are some lines you don’t cross,” I whisper. “You don’t torture children. And you don’t kill innocent people.”

  “You crossed that line. You tortured me.”

  I stop, her words cementing me in place. I did cross that line. So if she’s a monster, what does that make me?

  She sits and takes both my hands in her perpetually chilly ones. Bad circulation, she’s always told me. But now, I wonder if my mother really does have freshly melted icicles running through her veins.

  “I’m not angry at you, Olivia,” she says softly. “You wanted to help Ryder escape. You wanted to save Callie. You did what you had to do, for what you believed was right. How can I hold that against you?”

  I stare at our interlocking hands. Once upon a time, this was all I wanted. To sit on a couch with my mother. To have her absolve me of my sins because she loved me. But now that a twisted version of that scenario has arrived, it’s all I can do to push the bile back down my throat. “I tortured you,” I say. “How can you have no feelings about that whatsoever?”

  “I have feelings. They’re just not angry.” She chews her lip. It’s a testament to
our technology that the red tint doesn’t fade. “I only hope, when the time comes, that you’ll judge me by the same standard.”

  I pull my hands away. “I don’t agree with you. The end doesn’t always justify the means.”

  “When the end is big enough, it does,” she says wearily. “When it involves the very existence of our time stream? I’ll do just about anything to save our world.”

  I go still. Every molecule in my body, every molecule in the air stops dancing. “So, it’s true? Our entire time stream is deteriorating? Our very existence, our very world, is in danger of disappearing?”

  She nods, once. But once is all it takes.

  Numbly, I fall against the couch. But I’m not surprised. Not really. Deep down, I knew it was more than just a theory. I knew it was actually happening, in the here and now.

  “How much time do we have?” I mumble. “How much time until we all evaporate?”

  “A month, six weeks if we’re lucky. The time stream is already ripping, and once it hits a critical mass, the deterioration will move quickly. Fortunately we’ve developed a formula to treat the sickness.” She leans forward. “That’s the good news: there’s hope. We all need to come together now. Everyone in Eden City, North Amerie, the entire planet. The top government officials from around the world have been working closely together toward a solution. But in order to take the final step, I need my top scientists, Olivia. I need Mikey and Preston. Where are they?”

  “I’m not giving them up,” I say automatically.

  “I checked the dispensary records,” she says. “One of the tubes of amber formula was missing. Did you steal it to give to Callie?”

  I nod. Nothing to gain by lying now.

  “Good. She’ll need more, every single day. Of all the people who will come apart, she’ll be the first because of her Asynchronicity.”