On Through the Never

by Melissa E. Hurst

  “Hi, Mom. I thought I’d show you what you’re missing since you couldn’t get away from work,” he says, his eyebrows raising in the way that always showed he was being slightly sarcastic. Then he pans his camera around to show the view. “Bet you’re kicking yourself in the pants now, huh?” He grins, then points the camera to his left, where Shan and I are wading in a creek. We’re laughing and splashing each other.

  Then the scene cuts away several times, showing us doing different things. Toasting gooey white globs called marshmallows, which were a rare treat for us since they’re no longer made in this time. Occasionally, Dad found some on time trips and brought them back for us.

  Then we see scenes that include hiking and fishing. The final scene shows me catching a fish, yelling in glee because I was helping Dad with our supper. Shan is standing next to me, pouting. He looks back at Dad and says, “No fair! I want one too!”

  Then it cuts away again, this time showing Shan reeling in a small fish. The look on his face is one of pure delight. “Daddy, I did it!” he screams while holding it up.

  I’m standing next to Shan, grinning and yelling along with him. I remember that moment. I was so happy for him. He had been trying for hours—he wanted to be just like Dad and me.

  Dad’s voice cuts in over our excitement. “Good job, boys! I’m proud of you!”

  Shan suddenly jerks away from us. I look up from the DataPad in confusion as he rushes into the camper.

  Grandma swipes her finger across the DataPad, ending the message. A huge ache fills me. I miss those days. I miss being little and not having to worry about anything. I miss actually getting along with Shan, even if it was sporadic.

  “Do you think I should talk to him?” I ask. “He’s really not acting right.”

  Grandma shakes her head sadly. “No, I think I should talk to him. I get the feeling that he might open up more if he’s alone with me. But you know, watching that old vid has me craving fish right now. Why don’t you go see if you can catch some for supper?”

  “Do you have a back-up plan in case they aren’t biting?” I ask. It’s been a while since I’ve even tried to fish. I could have luck, but more than likely I’ll come back empty-handed.

  “I have Ready Meals. We won’t starve,” she says with a wink.

  “I’ll try extra hard, then,” I reply. We get enough Ready Meals at the Academy. I can do without having to choke down one of those tasteless things.

  The stream is about a mile away, down a path leading from our campsite. I find myself relaxing more the farther I get from camp. Maybe this is what I need: just to be by myself for a while.

  I’m almost to the stream when I suddenly get this overwhelming feeling that I’m not alone. I hear a crackling in the forest, as if someone is following me. I spin around, but there’s no one on the path, or in bushes. I set out again, feeling foolish. I tell myself that it’s just my nerves. That’s to be expected after everything that’s happened to me. Right?

  13

  ELLIS

  OCTOBER 22, 2155

  It’s late afternoon when Ellis looks out the window of the abandoned house he slept in during the day. All he can see is piles of rubble surrounding the few residences that are even partially intact. This neighborhood, once home to some of the wealthier citizens of New Denver, was demolished in the early stages of what everyone now calls The Last War.

  He searches through his satchel and takes out one of his Ready Meals. It’s supposed to be a type of protein pie, but it’s rock hard and stale. He eats it anyway. Being choosy about a meal is a luxury he hasn’t experienced in years.

  After hoisting his air tank onto his back, Ellis straps its accompanying mask around his neck. The air is safe to breathe in most places, but he frequently stumbles upon areas in which enemy soldiers have used Death Bombs, which render the air toxic for hours after detonation.

  Before he leaves the house, Ellis checks through his satchel one more time to make sure he hasn’t accidentally left anything behind. Fifteen Ready Meals, three bottles of water, a digigraph of his family, and the comm-set that he stole—along with a Chronoband—from the military bunker he lived in up until a year ago. He also pats his pocket, feeling for the DataDisk he always keeps in there, and makes sure his stunner is secured at his waist.

  It’s because of the stolen Chronoband that he has to keep moving. He’ll never be forgiven for taking it, since so few remain in existence. The regional commander issued a reward for his capture—extra rations and a secure post within the bunker at all times. That’s the last alert he was able to receive on his DataLink.

  He takes out the comm-set and fits it over his head. Not only does it help him look for cloaked enemies, it also still functions as a recorder. And Ellis has been recording a lot of his surroundings—he needs proof of what life is like in this time.

  Because Ellis has decided that he’s had enough of living this life. A life in which he, along with the rest of the country, has lost everything. The only way out is to prevent the war from even happening—which means traveling to 2147.

  But in order to preserve the timeline up until the devastating act that led to the destruction of the North American Federation, Ellis first has to retrieve four items from the past.

  Ellis presses the stone on a necklace he’s wearing. It’s a Jewill that belonged to someone he knew as a child. Once he’s cloaked, Ellis leaves the house and begins recording, adding to his existing material. No one looking at this footage will be able to deny that this future is real and devastating, he thinks as he hurries through the near-silent neighborhood.

  As he nears the heart of what used to be downtown New Denver, Ellis becomes more cautious. He passes some civilians wandering aimlessly, including a few children. A small part of him aches for them, grieving the world that they never knew. It would be smart for them to stay out of sight, but so many have given up hope.

  Several times, he has to duck into partially destroyed buildings or hide behind downed shuttles when he spots someone in the distance. It’s hard to tell if they’re foreign soldiers or local ones, and it doesn’t matter. They’re all wearing comm-sets, which would alert them to his presence, and they would either kill or try to capture him.

  After miles of passing nothing but desperate survivors and decomposing bodies, hiding intermittently, Ellis leaves the boundary of the city limits and arrives at his destination—the remains of The Academy for Time Travel and Research. This is one of the few places that kept Chronobands and comm-sets on site. His mission is to shift back to the day that the Academy was bombed and retrieve two Chronobands and comm-sets before they are destroyed.

  The buildings that made up the Academy were completely demolished by a steady stream of bombs launched by the European Coalition. Inspecting the coordinates on his DataLink, Ellis locates an area close to the main building. He then checks the date that he programmed into his Chronoband several days ago. It’s September 2, 2147, at 11:05 in the morning. That’s five minutes before the attacks began, targeting the Academy and New Denver. The European Coalition, upon realizing that the outbreak unleashed by the bioweapon on April 5, 2147, was spreading to other countries, decided to take out population centers with huge numbers of infected people.

  Closing his eyes, Ellis shifts. It takes him a few seconds to adjust to being in his past, but soon his vision and hearing clear. Around him, the grounds of the Academy are nearly abandoned. There are several people walking through the grassy expanse between the Academy’s buildings. Soldiers are posted at every entrance.

  Ellis stands close to the wall on the rear side of the main building, waiting until the first bombs begin their descent. At first there’s only the distinct sound of approaching aircraft. That captures the soldiers’ attention. Everyone looks in the direction of the noise, laser rifles raised.

  While the soldiers are on alert, Ellis takes off running, heading toward the closest entrance. He knows he has less than five minutes to find what he’s looking for, so h
e’s got to make every second count.

  The soldier guarding that entrance is wearing a comm-set. Normally he would see the cloaked figure advancing in his direction, but he’s occupied with looking in the opposite direction, trying to find the source of sounds Ellis knows are coming from an approaching stealth bomber. Ellis shoves the soldier hard, then pivots to his right and enters the building.

  Still running, Ellis has barely reached the desk where a young cadet is sitting when the first bomb strikes the academic building. The resulting blast shakes the immediate area. People dash out of offices, staring at each other in confusion. Then another bomb hits the boys’ residence hall.

  Ellis runs faster.

  With people rushing past him, screaming, the only thing he concentrates on is getting to the vault room, located next to the chancellor’s office. At least he doesn’t have to worry about encountering him. Chancellor Doran Tyson died in the initial outbreak in April, and in the resulting chaos no permanent replacement was assigned.

  A retinal scanner is required to open the vault. Ellis taps instructions on his DataLink, which brings up a stored scan of the former chancellor’s eye on his comm-set’s left eye lens. That does the trick, and the door slides open, revealing a dark interior. As soon as he steps inside the small room, lights blink on. Ellis rushes to the nearest wall. It’s lined with dozens of metallic drawers. He reaches drawer three, yanks it open, and extracts two comm-sets. Then he tugs drawer eleven open and grabs two Chronobands.

  A loud boom reverberates overhead. A bomb has hit the main building. Ellis races out of the vault. Time seems to have stopped for him. His whole world is reduced to the sound of his pulse throbbing in his head, his footsteps pounding along the floor, and another detonation hitting the building. Debris falls from above; chunks of ceiling crash down around him. He passes a man stretched across the ground with a large pillar pinning him in place. A part of him wishes he could help, but it’s useless. The man is long dead to him. A ghost.

  Outside, Ellis keeps running until he’s clear of the immediate blast zone. In the final moments before he shifts, he sees another bomb fall and take out the rest of the main building.

  With his heart pounding, Ellis allows himself a moment to sit once he shifts back to his time—but only a moment. He pulls a small black bag out of a pocket in his pants and gently places the stolen items inside, then tucks the bag into his satchel. After taking a swig of water, Ellis stands and starts his journey toward a campsite in the Rocky Mountains, where he will finally deliver his message to Bridger Creed. It’ll take several days to get there, but Ellis has plenty of time.

  That’s all he has anymore.

  14

  BRIDGER

  FEBRUARY 12, 2147

  I’m almost to the stream when I notice a faint shimmering in front of me. Someone is there, cloaked. I grip the fishing pole tighter, holding it up like a weapon.

  The shimmer disappears as the cloak is disengaged, and I’m left staring at someone slightly taller than me, with greasy brown hair that’s a little longer than mine. He’s dressed in faded brown pants and a dull leather jacket. Some kind of breathing device rests on his collarbone, with tubes running over both of his shoulders. A large, patched satchel is slung over his shoulder, and a stunner is sheathed at his hip. A low chuckle comes from the dirty gray cloth wrapped around the lower part of his face. He looks like someone straight from a war zone.

  “I wish you could see yourself. This is wild,” he says in a raspy voice. His eyes crinkle in a way that lets me know he’s really enjoying this.

  But I’m not. “Who the hell are you?” I ask, taking a step closer and holding my fishing pole higher. I could probably do some damage with it, if I needed to.

  “Come on, Bridger, put that down. I’m not going to hurt you.” He spreads his arms wide, his palms facing up. “I came a long way to talk to you.”

  The muscles in my arm tighten as I grip the fishing pole harder. “How do you know my name? And why are you hiding your face?”

  “That’s not important,” he replies. “What’s important is that I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

  “I’m not saying a thing until you tell me who you are and if you’re alone,” I snarl.

  “You don’t need to know my real name—at least not yet—but for now you can call me The Prophet. And I promise I’m by myself.”

  I laugh. “The Prophet? Are you serious?”

  He stands a little straighter, like he’s offended. “I am. Considering that I’m from your future and I have information you need.” Then he laughs. “Okay, I’ll admit that is kind of lame. You can call me Ellis.”

  I stare at him for a few moments. Whoever this guy is, he has to be lying. He should know that the DTA forbids Time Benders from interacting with anyone when they travel to the past. “You’re from my future. How do you expect me to believe that? If that’s the case, then you wouldn’t be talking to me at all. You’d know that that could contaminate your timeline, even get you arrested.”

  “That’s true now, but in my time there is no more DTA, and people with Talents are long dead. I’m from 2155 and, as you can tell,” he says, gesturing to his clothes, “things aren’t so great.”

  I don’t know how to respond. How am I supposed to believe his claims? As far as I know, he could be a Purist who’s stolen a Jewel of Illusion, which is illegal tech that would allow him to conceal himself without using a government-issued cloak that’s part of our uniforms.

  I lower my fishing pole. “Okay, I’ll play along. Let’s say I believe you. What do you want with me?”

  His eyes narrow. “In my time, we’re in the middle of a world war. A war that begins with the detonation of a bioweapon that will be unleashed soon in New Denver. It’ll kill every Talent once the disease spreads, and over half of the Gen Mod population. The only Talents who do survive are the few who were in underground bunkers during the detonation. What I want to do is stop that bomb from being detonated. But in case I’m unsuccessful, I still need you, your family, and your friend Alora to live through this. That must happen, no matter what.”

  I shake my head in disbelief. “How do you know about Alora? And how do you expect me to believe this? That sounds completely ridiculous.”

  “It was ridiculous to risk my life to come back here to warn you, but I did it anyway. Bridger, it’s important that you live through this. You’re an important part of the future.”

  I let out a harsh laugh. “Okay, this really has to be some kind of joke.”

  Ellis pushes up his sleeve, and I’m shocked to see that he’s wearing a Chronoband. “I was almost shot for stealing this.” Then he holds his hand over the pocket of his coat and says, “I have some information that I know you’ve been looking for. I’ll give it to you, but only if you promise that you’ll come with me when I return for you and the others. I’ll take all of you to a secure location.”

  He reaches into the pocket and extracts something. Opening his fist, he steps closer to me and reveals the items. In his palm are two round DataDisks—a silver one for data storage, and a bronze Sim Game program.

  “These are for you. One contains information that will help you and Alora find some of the answers you seek. The other is a little taste of what’s to come if I’m not able to stop that bioweapon.”

  “You didn’t answer my question. How you know about Alora? And what about my father? Do you know where he is?”

  “I know everything about you, Bridger. Everything.”

  “Then tell me what’s going on with him. I need to know.”

  “I would, but you would never believe me. This is something you have to discover for yourself.”

  Suddenly I want to punch this guy, but I tell myself to calm down. Just because he claims that he’s from the future and knows about Dad doesn’t mean he’s telling the truth. But, still, the fact that he has a Chronoband makes me wonder.

  I reach out to accept the DataDisks and shove them in my pocket. “If what
you say is true, then when will the bioweapon detonate?”

  “I can’t tell you that yet. I need to preserve this timeline as much as possible before the bombing. But a few days before it happens, I’ll come back and warn you. That should give you enough time to prepare your family and then I’ll get you to safety,” Ellis says.

  I have so many more questions. If he’s from the future, why does he want to alter his timeline? I know he said there’s a world war, but there’s no telling what changing his past could do to him or the rest of the world. And why does he want me, Alora, and my family in particular to survive? It doesn’t make sense.

  Before I can ask anything, Ellis says, “Look, I’ve got to go now. I’ve already been here too long. Just … try to stay safe and out of trouble. And here’s one more thing you’re going to need.” He extracts a black, plastic-looking bag from his satchel and tosses it to me. “Take care of those. You have no idea what I went through to get them.”

  Then he shifts, leaving me alone once more. I open the bag and nearly drop it when I realize what’s inside—two Chronobands, and two comm-sets.

  15

  ALORA

  FEBRUARY 14, 2147

  So far, my second day at The Academy for Time Travel and Research has been a little better than my first. I mean, at least I sort of know what to expect. Yesterday, Lieutenant Rivera escorted me to each of my classes: basics like math, science, and language arts in the morning, with afternoons reserved for my new team leader, Professor Telfair March, who is responsible for my history lessons and actual time travel training. In between all that Mom kept checking in to make sure I was doing okay.

  Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t have Lieutenant Rivera here. At least she’s leaving tomorrow. I can’t wait.