On Through the Never

by Melissa E. Hurst

  “What are we going to do? Your father is still out there somewhere, and I don’t know what happened to my dad. We have to find them.”

  “I know, but I don’t think we should do anything right now. We can’t let anyone else know that we remember the truth.”

  Alora crosses her arms, frowning. “I’ve been living in this century for the past ten months. How much longer do I have to wait before I can find my father? I promised Aunt Grace I would before I left.”

  “Look, I get it. I really do. I … I just need some time to think. We can’t do anything to make the DTA suspicious.”

  “But Bridger—” Suddenly Alora turns to look behind her, then whips her head back around, her eyes wide. “I’ve got to go. My mom is on the way. Please stay in touch, okay? I need some answers soon.”

  “I’ll find you at school on Monday. Just stay out of trouble until then.”

  She looks like she wants to say something else, but just nods and begins walking toward the dark-haired woman standing on the other side of the Green Zone. The woman looks so relieved when she spots Alora. I remember her: Adalyn Mason, the woman who broke my father’s heart when she refused to marry him so many years ago. The woman who originally asked him to retrieve Alora from the past. She’s partially responsible for my dad’s death before he was cloned—along with the cloned version of Vika.

  I should hate them, and I do, a little, but mostly I’m furious at the DTA. Specifically, General Anderson. He covered up what Dad did before, and I suspect he covered what I did, too. But why? Were we about to expose a secret that he wants to keep hidden? If I have to guess, I bet it’s something to do with the fact that Dad, Vika, and Alora’s father were all cloned, which is illegal now. Or maybe it’s because Vika and Alora’s father—and even Professor March—are Dual Talents. At the Academy, we’re taught those don’t exist.

  As I leave the park to go back to Grandma’s apartment, I promise myself that though I may not be able to do anything right now, I will find out the truth, no matter what.

  And then I almost run smack into someone. I try to brush past the person, but he grabs my upper arm.

  Alarmed, I glance up and immediately my heart begins to race. The man standing there, still holding my arm, is my father. Here. Still very much still alive.

  10

  BRIDGER

  FEBRUARY 11, 2147

  After a moment, I realize I must look like an idiot. My jaw is slack, and I can’t speak. Dad is really here. Or at least, the cloned version of him. Still, it’s my dad, wearing the standard navy Time Bender uniform.

  “Son, are you all right? You look like you’re about to pass out,” he says, with a trace of amusement in his voice.

  The only thing I can do is nod.

  Dad scopes out our surroundings, then inclines his head to the left. “I only have six minutes before I have to leave. Walk with me to my shift point.”

  Still feeling numb, I manage to shuffle along beside him as we walk through the Green Zone. I can’t stop staring at him.

  “You need to quit doing that,” Dad says. “We don’t want to draw unwanted attention.”

  “I don’t understand. Where have you been? Why are you here now?”

  Dad looks at me as if I’ve grown a third eye or something. “I’ve missed talking to you. I miss being with you and your brother. It’s been hell, having to stay away from the both of you.”

  I think for a moment. From my perspective, it’s been over ten months since I last saw him. But I don’t know at what point in the timeline Dad is from. He refused to share the year with me when I last saw him, which was the night that Alora was almost killed in 2013. After I was forced to kill the cloned version of Vika because she had just murdered Dad—and was trying to do the same to Alora—Dad’s clone appeared to us. He stayed long enough to let me know that he—not my real dad—was the one responsible for sending me back to save Alora in the first place. “How long has it been for you?”

  Dad lets out a light laugh. “Nice try, son. I can’t disclose that information.”

  “I don’t get it. Why all the secrecy?”

  Dad grows quiet as we pass two military Space Benders in dark gray uniforms, patrolling as we leave the Green Zone and set off down the street. Once they’re past us, he says, “I’m not supposed to exist, for starters. Technically, you shouldn’t even know about me. Your memories were wiped, so you’re supposed to think I’m dead, remember?” He leans close to me and lowers his voice. “But if you still thought I was dead, you would have wilded out when you first saw me a few minutes ago. So it seems you’ve got your memories back.”

  Regret sinks inside me like a stone. I’m an idiot. How could I let that slip, having a conversation with him about things I shouldn’t even know? I know I can trust Dad, but I didn’t even think about what I was doing before I told him those things. I can’t make mistakes like that if I’m going to make it in the military. I need to be sharp at all times. Not like this.

  “It’s okay. I already knew you had restored your memories.” His face hardens. “I saw what that girl did to you.”

  “You saw that? If you didn’t think she should restore them, why didn’t you stop it?”

  “Because from my point of view it’s already happened. I can’t change it.”

  I stop walking. “Wait. Exactly what time are you from?”

  “I can’t tell you that, son. You know it could influence your actions, and I have to let things play out like they’re supposed to.”

  “They why bother coming back to see me at all?”

  “This is the only way I can check in on you. The DTA monitors my whereabouts when they send me on missions in the present, but they can’t when I’m on assignment in the past. This is a detour for me. In fact, it’s my second one. Right after the protests, I checked in on you at the med center. You were sedated, so you never saw me.”

  I feel detached, as if I’ve stepped out of my body. “I just … this is too much to take in,” I manage to say. “Am I in trouble? You know, for getting my memories back?”

  Dad laughs. “Of course not. I’m not telling anybody. Honestly, I’m glad you have them back, even though I don’t approve of you spending time with that girl. Just to make it clear, I wasn’t around when Anderson gave the order to have you erased. Maybe I could have talked him out of it. You’re old enough to handle the truth.”

  With those words, the tension in my body begins to ease. “So, what exactly can you tell me? Why are you talking to me now? Aren’t you putting the timeline at risk by doing that?”

  “No. In fact, I’m helping you. It’s important that you continue to act like you don’t remember anything.” Dad turns down an empty alley between two skyscrapers. “Don’t try to look for me. Don’t help that girl. Don’t tell anybody you saw me. Not your friends, not my mother, not even your brother—he tells your mother everything. Your objective is to maintain the status quo, so you can stay safe.”

  I follow Dad halfway down the alley. He stops and rests his back against the wall of one of the buildings, then lifts his left arm to check his Chronoband.

  “Wait, you have to leave now?” I ask. My pulse begins to race. “You just got here.”

  “It’s time for me to go. If I’m late, General Anderson could send someone back to check on my whereabouts.”

  “So Anderson is behind everything,” I say, not even bothering to hide the bitterness I’m feeling. “What’s his end game?”

  “Can’t talk about that now, son. Just know that he’s one of the good guys. I’ll be in touch soon. And remember, stay away from that girl—and from Telfair.”

  Before I can say anything else, he activates his cloak and vanishes.

  11

  FEBRUARY 12, 2147

  ALORA

  I. can’t. sleep.

  After spending most of the night staring at the ceiling in my bedroom, or sketching scenes of my life with Aunt Grace, I finally sit up. According to my DataLink, it’s almost four o�
��clock in the morning. I lean across the bed and swipe my finger across a sensor on the bottom of my window, which deactivates the night screen and allows me to see outside. It’s still dark. The only flashes of light are from a few shuttles flying overhead and from some nearby Jumbotrons, which cast faint shadows across my walls. A few lights are on in different buildings, but most of them are dark, their inhabitants more than likely lost in their dreams.

  I let out a sigh and lie back on the bed. The only thing I can think about is my conversation with Bridger. I keep replaying what he said in my head, wondering if he will decide to help me. I thought once I’d restored his memories, he’d be completely on my side, but it seems like he’s unsure. It hurts me, but I guess I can understand. He’s lived his life separate from me since we returned to this time—ten long months where we both made the best of our respective situations. I can see how he wouldn’t want to jeopardize what he’s spent that time working for.

  But still, I need answers. I need to find my father, and figure out why he was cloned and brought to this era after his death in the military in 1994. I need answers as to why he never came back for me. Why did he rob me of a life with him in it?

  The DTA is hiding something from me—and Bridger—and we need to find out what that is.

  But at the same time, I miss Aunt Grace so much. The ache is stronger than it was yesterday when I finally remembered her, and all I want to do is go to her right now. I have to know that she’s okay, that nobody from the DTA hurt her. I know I shouldn’t; it’s illegal to time travel without the DTA’s permission. But I’m not exactly feeling warm and fuzzy toward the DTA at the moment.

  I need to see her.

  Before I can change my mind, I jump out of bed, strip out of my new pajamas, and dig through my closet. Mom went a little overboard buying me clothes. I barely remember the shopping trip—I just went along with a lot of what she chose. I find a pair of jeans and a plain blue T-shirt with labels stating that they were retrieved from 2004, along with a pair of white-and-gray sneakers. This’ll have to do.

  Once I’m dressed, I remember to retrieve the Mind Redeemer from its hiding place in my dresser and stuff it in my pocket, just in case someone from the DTA went back and took Aunt Grace’s memories, too. I hope they wouldn’t be that cruel to her.

  Then I close my eyes and picture the forest behind the former plantation house that was our home. I think of the path where I used to jog to the river every day, picture where the path ended and the yard began. That’s where I need to appear, since I don’t know if I’ll be able to free shift to my target date. My last day with Aunt Grace was July 4, 2013—the day I “officially” died at the hands of the homicidal man who was a guest at Aunt Grace’s inn, Dave Palmer. I’ll try to return two weeks later, on July 18. That gives her enough time to deal with the immediate aftermath of what happened and get past my fake funeral.

  Entering the Void sucks. I hate this part of traveling through time more than anything; it feels like I don’t exist. But at least it’s over quickly. Warm air wraps around my skin like a welcoming blanket as soon as I emerge. I breathe in deeply, relishing the scent of pine and earth. This is what home feels like. Kind of ironic how much I wanted to get away from Willow Creek when I lived here.

  And for once, I’m so thankful that I’m a Dual Talent. If I were only a Time Bender, I’d have to travel to what’s left of Willow Creek and shift to the past from there, which I could never do right now.

  Upon opening my eyes, I find that I’m standing a little way down the path to the river. The opening in the trees that I know leads to the inn’s yard is visible, but not the house itself. I’m surprised to hear a lot of voices and laughter, like a party or something.

  What could Aunt Grace be doing right now? From the slant of the sunlight streaming through the trees, I can tell that it’s late afternoon. Normally she would be preparing for supper, but I’m not so sure now. Before our lives were turned upside down, she had decided to sell the inn to her evil former sister-in-law. If I landed on a later date than I meant to, Aunt Grace could already have sold the house and moved.

  Before I do anything else, I set a timer on my DataLink to alert me when two hours have passed. That way I won’t be tempted to stay too long. For every hour I spend in the past, the same amount of time passes in my own time.

  I move toward the opening and peer out. What I see hits me like a punch to the face. The backyard is full of people dressed in formal clothes, all standing around talking and laughing. Underneath a huge white tent, round tables are set up, covered with white linens. Rows of white chairs are lined up before a flower covered arch.

  Oh my God, this is a wedding. That must mean that Aunt Grace has already sold the inn. She’s gone. I want to sink to my knees, but I force myself to keep standing. So, I obviously missed my target date. Go me. I’ll just have to try again and hope that I don’t mess up.

  But before I can shift again, a familiar figure appears in the crowd. It’s Aunt Grace, dressed in a royal-blue sleeveless dress. Her light brown curls are pinned up on her head, and she’s laughing and talking with several people. An electric feeling pulses through me. When I left Aunt Grace, she had been shot in her shoulder. She appears to be completely healed now. I must have really been off on my target date.

  I want to race across the yard and fling myself into her arms, but of course that’s a stupid idea under the circumstances. If I want to talk to her, I’ll have to find a way to blend in until I can get close. I glance down at jeans and T-shirt. I can’t just waltz up to a wedding like this. And I need to hide my identity, since I’m supposed to be dead. Hopefully my bedroom is still intact.

  I take a deep breath and picture my bedroom, focusing on the purple walls and fluffy comforter on my bed. I picture myself standing there, and before I can even open my eyes, I’m overwhelmed with the scent of lavender. The voices from the wedding outside are now muffled.

  Then I’m hit with a wave of dizziness. Just great; I’m having a reaction to shifting so many times in such a short period of time. This usually happens when I shift more than four or five times in one day, but I guess that’s only when I’m bending space, not space and time together. My tutors in Chicago preferred to keep my space-bending and time bending-lessons separate.

  I manage to make it to my bed and lie down, closing my eyes. After a few minutes, I’m able to sit up, though I feel slightly weak. I wish I could stay in here. Just being in this room brings back so many memories. When I was little, Aunt Grace used to tuck me in every night and read stories to me. And I would spend hours in here, drawing in my sketch book. I even remember Bridger being in here with me on the day I tracked down a man who knew my father in hopes of learning more about my past. I remember how close Bridger and I came to kissing.

  And I remember how we did kiss at the river.

  Heat rushes to my face. That’s the last thing I need to think about right now. Forcing myself to stand, I march over to my closet, search through my clothes—thankfully, Aunt Grace kept everything—and pull out a long, light-green sundress and a pair of silver sandals.

  It feels heavenly to slip on the dress. I’m not really a dress-wearing kind of girl, but it’s so nice to wear something that actually belongs to me, not some clothes that Time Benders scavenged.

  I check myself in the mirror. My hair hangs in loose waves down my back. That’s way too eye-catching. I need to hide it, but with what? Maybe a hat would work.

  Five minutes later, I check the mirror again. My hair is pinned up under an oversized cream-colored beanie that I found in my dresser, and I’m wearing a pair of sunglasses.

  Not the best disguise, but it’ll have to do.

  Downstairs, I hear voices and realize that the house isn’t empty. My stomach knots when I spot some guests sitting in the front parlor, sipping champagne, and caterers in the kitchen prepping food. One of them looks up at me, quizzically. I lower my gaze and head out the back door.

  Outside, I’m overwhel
med at the sheer number of people here. I get a few curious looks as I walk through the crowd. Way to go, Alora. At least I don’t recognize anyone so far.

  It takes a little while, but I finally find Aunt Grace under the white tent, talking to the bride and groom. But I can’t just walk up to her; she would probably freak out. Instead, I search for one of the caterers and walk up to her. “Excuse me. Grace Evans is needed in the kitchen, but I don’t know who she is. Could you please give her the message?”

  The lady looks skeptical, but she nods and sets out in Aunt Grace’s direction.

  Feeling a bit smug, I turn around to go into the house, but I smack straight into a man behind me. I freeze, looking up at him. He’s tall, with brown hair and glasses. My first thought is Palmer, but no. This man is younger, maybe in his late twenties. Still, my heart is racing.

  “Do I know you?” he asks, squinting at me. “You seem familiar.”

  I just shake my head and push past him. I don’t allow myself to relax until I’m back inside the house. I go halfway down the hall and try to open the door to Aunt Grace’s study, but of course it’s locked.

  The back door opens, and I whirl around. It’s Aunt Grace. She immediately locks eyes with me. and her mouth drops open as the blood drains from her face. “Oh my God,” she whispers, leaning against the wall. “You … you’re dead,” she says in a hoarse whisper.

  Stupid, stupid DTA. They did take her memories.

  I rush over to her and wrap my arms around her. She’s limp at first, then hugs me back, so tight that I can’t breathe. And there are tears. So many tears.

  Behind us, I spot one of the caterers poking his head out of the kitchen. “Is everything all right?” he asks.

  Aunt Grace glances at him, wiping her eyes. “Oh, yes, everything is perfectly fine.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, ma’am. Let me know if you need anything,” he replies before retreating.

  “Let’s go upstairs. I’m feeling a little faint,” Aunt Grace says.