ALSO BY BRETT BATTLES
THE JONATHAN QUINN THRILLERS
Novels
BECOMING QUINN
THE CLEANER
THE DECEIVED
SHADOW OF BETRAYAL (US)/THE UNWANTED (UK)
THE SILENCED
THE DESTROYED
THE COLLECTED
THE ENRAGED
THE DISCARDED
THE BURIED
Novellas
NIGHT WORK (Originally Published as FLIGHT 12)
Short Stories
“Just Another Job”—A Jonathan Quinn Story
“Off the Clock”—A Jonathan Quinn Story
“The Assignment”—An Orlando Story
“Lesson Plan”—A Jonathan Quinn Story
“Quick Study”—An Orlando Story
THE REWINDER THRILLERS
REWINDER
DESTROYER
THE LOGAN HARPER THRILLERS
LITTLE GIRL GONE
EVERY PRECIOUS THING
THE PROJECT EDEN THRILLERS
SICK
EXIT NINE
PALE HORSE
ASHES
EDEN RISING
DREAM SKY
DOWN
THE ALEXANDRA POE THRILLERS COWRITTEN WITH ROBERT GREGORY BROWNE
POE
TAKEDOWN
STANDALONES
Novels
THE PULL OF GRAVITY
NO RETURN
Short Stories
“Perfect Gentleman”
For Younger Readers
THE TROUBLE FAMILY CHRONICLES
HERE COMES MR. TROUBLE
More at BrettBattles.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2016 Brett Battles
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by 47North, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and 47North are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503951594
ISBN-10: 1503951596
Cover design by David Drummond
To DeeDee Li, Derek Rogers, Christine Buckhout, and Gar Haywood. Thank you for keeping me sane(ish).
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
I live in fear.
Fear of my past.
Fear for our future.
Fear that I’ve paid too high a price to save my sister’s life.
Fear that I will be held accountable for altering mankind’s destiny.
Don’t think destinies can’t be altered. I’ve done it more than once.
The first incident was an error, but not the second.
Time travel. It can be . . . problematic. Even the smallest of errors can result in, well, a place like this.
Don’t thank me, though. What I’ve done carries with it the guilt of millions of erased lives. Maybe billions.
Believe me or not, but the truth is the truth.
My name is Denny Younger, and I am a rewinder.
JUMP.
CHAPTER TWO
This is not the first time I’ve seen the man in the gray suit, but it takes me a moment before I place him.
Ruby’s Coffee Shop.
The café is near my apartment, and I often go there for an early coffee while my sister is still sleeping, so I’ve come to recognize many of the regular customers. The man is one of them, though I’m pretty sure he’s only started coming around in the last couple of weeks or so.
The thing is, I’m nowhere near Ruby’s right now. I’m downtown walking toward the San Diego Central Library. It’s a place I go to expand my knowledge about this time line. Though, as my girlfriend, Iffy, has shown me, I can do a lot of my research on the worldwide Internet, physical books are what I’m used to.
The man is standing off to the side of the open glass wall that serves as the building’s entrance. He’s holding a brochure as if studying it, but he’s not. He’s watching me approach. When I glance in his direction, he looks back at his pamphlet, suddenly interested in it again.
It’s possible he’s having the same “I’ve seen this guy before” moment that I just had, but the tingle I feel at the back of my neck makes me think otherwise. I see no hint of surprise or even confusion in his eyes. He’s interested in me.
Acting like I haven’t noticed anything special about him, I causally walk into the library’s large lobby, but casual is not how I feel. The desire to hurry to someplace private where I can slip my hand into my satchel, press the go button on my chaser, and make a time jump away from here is nearly overwhelming. Only that’s not an option. The device’s battery strength continues to decline with every trip I make. Until I have a way to recharge it, I decided to limit my jumps to only those that are necessary, and have left the chaser in my safe at home. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, I’m not so sure.
I take the escalator up to the second floor, where I position myself so that I can discreetly watch the entrance below. A few moments pass before the man finally saunters inside. By the way he hesitates near the base of the escalator I know he’s aware of where I have gone. Instead of following me, though, he heads deeper into the first floor where I can no longer see him.
I frown in annoyance. I’d been hoping he’d come up so that I could sneak around him and make my way out of the building unseen. But now I assume that if I try, he’ll spot me. So, for the moment, I’m trapped.
Two months ago while Iffy and I were walking around Coronado Island, I saw someone I swore I knew—a veteran rewinder named Carla Manning. She was walking in front of us and hadn’t seen me yet, so we followed her all the way to a restaurant. Through the glass door we watched as two teenagers greeted her, their features clearly indicating they were her children. With much relief, I realized it wasn’t Carla at all. Or, at least, not the version of Carla from my world.
I’m feeling the same panic now that I felt then. It’s the cost of living in fear of being discovered. Some days I can almost pretend I’m like everyone else here, that this is the world I was born into.
But it’s not.
I have no idea if anyone else from my old world survived the change, but if they did, they’ll be looking for me. What I can’t figure out is if the man is one of them. Though there’s something familiar about him, I’m positive that prior to the first time I noticed him at Ruby’s, I’d never seen him before. That doesn’t mean he’s not from my former life, though. There were, after all, many rewinders I never met.
I retreat to a table from where I can keep an eye on most of the second floor, pull out my laptop, and pretend to work on it. Nearly twenty minutes pass before the man rides the escalator up. I tense the moment I see him, but stay my urge to get up and run. He walks into the area where I am sitting a
nd chooses the open table farthest from mine.
Once more I really wish I’d brought my chaser. Who cares about the miniscule power drain a quick jump would cause? Yes, perhaps the man is harmless, but why take the chance?
I close my computer and shove it back in my satchel. There’s no reason to put off my departure any longer. If he’s here to take me, I’m already lost.
As I rise, I innocently glance around the room and once more catch him looking in my direction. With a sense of calm I don’t feel, I return to the escalator and head down to the lobby.
The entrance area is considerably more crowded now than when I first arrived, and I have to weave through a mass of patrons to get to the exit. This actually allows me to shoot a quick look back. I expect to see the man descending the escalator or at least standing at the top, but he is nowhere in sight.
Does this mean he’s used his own chaser and is already waiting for me outside?
I head back into the daylight, my body tense in the anticipation of someone grabbing my arm, but I make it to the sidewalk without any interference. Looking around, I don’t see the man anywhere.
What I do see, however, is a city bus moving toward the nearby stop. It’s not heading in the direction I want to go, but I don’t care. I run over and jump on just before the doors close. Taking a seat a few rows back, I watch the library as we pull away, but once more see no sign of the man in the gray suit. Just to be sure, I scan the other passengers in case he is already here, but he’s not.
As I slump against the window, I tell myself it’s just a coincidence. He’s not after me. He’s not a rewinder.
For the most part, I believe it.
When I arrive home, I find Iffy sitting at the dining table. I don’t like to leave my sister alone in the apartment if I’m going to be gone for more than thirty minutes, but while Iffy doesn’t officially live with Ellie and me, she’s here more often than not and is able to play guardian when I need to get away.
“How is she?” I ask as I pull off my satchel and set it on the dining table.
“Still asleep.” Iffy tilts her chin up and we kiss. “How did the research go?”
“It didn’t.” I tell her about the encounter with the man in the suit.
“Are you sure he wasn’t one of them?”
“If he was, I doubt I would have made it home.”
She looks unconvinced, which is understandable given her own encounter with one of my fellow institute members back in early April. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to leave the chaser here when you go out.”
Though I’ve been feeling the same, I say, “You know why I can’t take it.”
She’s silent for a moment, and when she speaks, I know what’s coming. “Please, let me call RJ.”
She has been pushing her friend on me for a while. Raymond Johnson is someone she grew up with, who is now attending one of the local universities, UC San Diego, where he is studying something called information technologies. She has repeatedly told me he can help with the chaser’s power problem.
To this point, I’ve rebuffed the suggestion. Now, though . . .
“Can we trust him?”
Clearly she’s been expecting me to shut her down again and looks surprised at my question. “Absolutely.”
I think for a moment longer and then, with the hope that I don’t regret what I’m about to say, tell her, “Let’s talk to him.”
My chaser sits on the table in front of us. It looks like nothing special, just an old wooden box that could as easily be from 1015 as from 2015.
Iffy’s likened it to a cigar box in size, and from the pictures she’s shown me, that seems about right. It even has a similar lid. When opened, though, instead of revealing rows of cigars, it uncovers a control panel.
The device was developed at the Upjohn Institute, a place that now never existed, and yet I walked its halls, studied in its library, and slept in its dormitory. The device is what allowed rewinders such as myself to travel through time.
It was Sir Gregory, one of the institute’s administrators, who told me during training that the chaser is the most powerful thing on earth. “In the wrong hands, can you imagine the devastation one of these could cause?”
I don’t need to imagine now. I’ve done it. But that’s the past. What we’re doing now is trying to figure out the future.
Iffy sits beside me. Across from us is her friend RJ.
While technically I’m no longer employed by the Upjohn Institute, and therefore am not bound by their rules and regulations, I can’t ignore the sense of panic growing in my chest. Revealing the truth about who I really am to an outsider and explaining what a chaser allows me to do are two of the institute’s cardinal sins.
To this point, I’ve shared these secrets with only two others. Iffy, when I thought she was about to be erased forever and telling her wouldn’t matter; and my sister, Ellie, who I brought to this reality so she could receive medical treatment our former time line denied her.
Bringing a third person into our circle—someone I have just met at that—is beyond merely difficult. I’m in a mental battle with myself to keep from picking up the chaser and racing out of the room. But like it or not, I need Iffy’s friend.
My chaser’s battery will eventually run dry, rendering the device useless. I can’t allow that to happen. I may be the last of the rewinders, but if I’m not, others will be searching for me so they can force me to bring back the original time line. Without a working chaser, I can easily be taken. The machine gives me the ability to hide if necessary, or, if I must, fight them on an equal footing.
RJ looks at the box and then at us. “So?”
“We’re hoping you can help us figure out how to charge it,” Iffy says.
When he lifts the chaser off the table, I nearly leap out of my chair to snatch it back from him. Sensing my unease, Iffy grabs my thigh and gives it a squeeze. This does little to calm me, but it does keep me in my seat.
RJ turns the box around, studying each side. Finally he asks, “What do you mean charge it? It’s a box.”
“It’s more than a box,” Iffy says.
He looks at Iffy, waiting for her to elaborate. I can feel her glance nervously in my direction, prompting RJ to turn his attention to me. “So, what is it?”
It takes me another couple seconds before I can say, “I don’t see how that’s important.”
Iffy squeezes my leg again and then asks RJ, “Will it help if you know?”
“Um, yeah. I need to understand what I’m working with here.” He turns the chaser around again. “I don’t even see a place to plug anything in.”
My discomfort is reaching maximum. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”
“Look,” RJ says, setting the device down, “I don’t know what the big deal is, but Iffy said you needed my help. If you don’t want it, fine. No worries.” He stands.
Iffy scolds me with her glare as she says, “Denny?”
I close my eyes for a half second and then let out the breath I’ve been holding. “I’m sorry . . . yes, we do need your help.”
“Then you’re going to have to tell me what that thing is.”
After another quick glance in my direction, Iffy says, “Actually, it’ll be easier if we show you.”
The plan is one she proposed after she finally convinced me to have the meeting. Reluctantly, I then worked up the information per her instructions and input it into my chaser. What I didn’t do was openly agree to executing her plan.
While I know in principle this will be the easiest way to convince him, going through with her plan means yet another major institute rule broken. So when she stands, I’m not so quick to do the same.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“I’ve never done it with three before.” This is a weak argument at best. Marie, my personal instructor during my training period at the institute, told me a rewinder could jump with as many as five people in a pinch, and that once someone had taken a
journey with seven. Three won’t be a problem.
“Never done what with three?” Wariness has crept into RJ’s voice.
Iffy gives him a reassuring smile before saying to me, “I’ll stay. You can go with him by yourself.”
This is not the response I expected, and while RJ seems nice enough, if we’re really going to do this, I’d much rather have Iffy along. “Never mind. I’m, um, sure it’ll be okay.”
RJ’s concern has only intensified. “What are you guys talking about?”
Iffy hands me the chaser as we move away from the table and then waves RJ over. “Join us.”
He hesitates.
“RJ, don’t be an idiot. Get over here.”
Reluctantly he walks over.
Iffy puts her arms around me from the left. “Grab on to Denny on that side just like this.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he says. “I think it would be better if—”
“Quit being such a baby and do it.”
“You guys are messing with me, aren’t you?” He looks around. “Are we on one of those practical joke shows? You’re streaming this live online, aren’t you?”
“RJ!”
Looking like he’s sure he’s being set up, he very tentatively grabs my right side, leaving a gap between us.
He’s probably close enough, but I’d rather not take any chances. “Move in a bit.”
“Oh, sure. Move it.” He steps right next to me and hugs me tight, like he wants to crush my ribs.
“I’d like to be able to breathe.”
“Too much? Sorry, man.” He loosens his hold, still smiling like he’s in on the joke.
“Everyone set?” I ask.
As Iffy nods, she locks eyes with RJ. “Don’t freak out.”
“Freak out about what?” he asks.
I raise the chaser and press go.
At Iffy’s suggestion we go for the dramatic.
RJ apparently has a passion for all things space related, so I jump us to a hill in the Mojave Desert within the boundaries of Edwards Air Force Base. The date is April 14, 1981, and as per the protocol I learned during my rewinder training, we arrive in the dark of the early morning.
Destroyer (Rewinder #2) Page 1