He glances down, his expression anguished, before continuing. “My own son is suffering because of this. He has a rare form of cancer, and I can no longer afford his treatments. And without them, he will soon die. We’ve tried protesting, which was our right, but the government even took that away from us—we can no longer demonstrate peacefully without being arrested. So I, and some like-minded people, banded together to stop this tyranny. Our demands are simple. The government will repeal the Responsible Citizen Act, or there will be severe consequences.” He pauses and looks to the side for a moment. “And now, unfortunately, I will leave you now with a little taste of what’s to come if our demands aren’t met. Citizens of Seattle, New York, Mexico City, and New Denver, beware.” He holds up both of his fists and cries out, “We will have justice!”
The feed cuts off, leaving an image of blue flames surrounding the NFA flag. The same image that was on the graffiti at the Maglev station. We sit in stunned silence.
And then we hear it. It’s faint because we’re in the back of the book room but unmistakable—gunfire. Terrified screams follow.
Bridger jumps up from the table, his face drained of blood. “Shan!”
He takes off running, and we all follow. Elijah shouts for Bridger to wait for us, but he doesn’t listen. We skid to a halt at the end of the original documents hall. A pale man, dressed head to toe in black, right down to the black mask like that of the man from the vid, is standing twenty feet in front of us. He’s slowly rotating clockwise, firing what looks like an antique semiautomatic rifle at anybody who’s moving. Each shot sounds like an explosion, echoing through the cavernous area.
A bullet whizzes past Zed’s ear, and he drops to the floor, clutching his arms over his head. We all do the same. Except for Bridger. He starts to move away from us.
“Get down!” Zed screams at him.
Then someone pushes Bridger down just as more bullets hit the wall where he was standing. They lie still for seconds that stretch into eternity. Were they hit?
Finally, the man on top of Bridger rolls to the side. It’s Professor March. Bridger stares at him in apparent shock, then shakes his head and begins to belly-crawl toward the Sim Game rooms. The gunfire suddenly stops, and I look back up. The gunman is staring at me. I freeze, afraid he might shoot me next. But instead, he vanishes. I can barely comprehend what I just saw—the man was a Space Bender. But why would a Space Bender attack innocent people? I stare helplessly at the chaos surrounding us. People sprawl on the floor, unmoving. Others hide behind smashed displays. How could someone do this to so many innocent people?
Cries of terror snap me out of my daze. I check on Zed first. “Are you all right?” I ask.
His eyes are wide and he’s breathing hard, but he manages to nod. “Where’s Bridger?” he asks in a shaky voice.
Elijah sits up and looks in the direction Bridger was headed in. Then he lets out a whimper. “Oh, no. Please no.”
I whirl around. Bridger is kneeling next to someone stretched out on the floor. Professor March is leaning over that person, feeling for a pulse in his neck. I run over and look down, horrified.
It’s Bridger’s brother. And he’s been shot.
24
BRIDGER
FEBRUARY 19, 2147
Mom and I are about to enter Shan’s hospital room. We had to wait over an hour while the doc on duty patched him up before we could see him. But Shan was lucky. One bullet hit him in the fleshy part of his upper left arm, and another grazed his left cheek. He’s going to be fine.
I can’t help but think about what would have happened if Professor March hadn’t followed Shan and me to the museum. He saved my life. Now I’m even more torn, and I’m feel guilty for ever doubting Professor March. I don’t understand why Dad doesn’t want me to trust him, but I also know now that the professor wouldn’t hurt me. Hell, he put his own life on the line just to save mine. What if Dad is wrong about him? I just wish I knew what Professor March did to make Dad feel the way he does.
The moment we see Shan, Mom goes to pieces. He looks so helpless, lying in his bed sedated. She sits at the side of his bed and sobs again.
The door slides open and a nurse enters the room, dressed in the hospital’s blue med uniform. “Are you Leithan’s mother?”
Mom glances up at her, wiping her eyes. “He goes by his middle name, Shan. Leithan is his first name.”
“I see,” the nurse replies. “I need to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
While Mom talks to the nurse, I stare at Shan, completely gutted. His wounds have been cleaned and bandaged. Thanks to the genetic modifications the Purists hate so much, he should be completely healed within a day or two. Except for scars. Shan will have to deal with those forever, whether he likes it or not.
But he shouldn’t have to. He shouldn’t have been shot. If I hadn’t made him leave the book room, he would have been fine.
Shortly after the nurse leaves, Grandma enters the room. She looks like she’s aged a decade. “I got here as soon as I could. How is he?” she asks, joining Mom by his bed.
In a hollow voice, Mom says, “He’ll live.”
Grandma starts to take a seat on the other side of the bed, but Mom says, “Judith, now isn’t a good time for you to be here. I’d prefer to be here alone with my children.”
I sit up a little straighter. Wow, even under these circumstances, Mom still acts completely selfish.
Grandma sits in the chair anyway and reaches out to hold Shan’s hand. In a quiet but firm tone, she says, “You have a lot of nerve telling me to leave. This is my grandson. My flesh and blood. I will be here for him if I damn well please.” Her eyes flick to Mom for a moment. “Besides, I don’t see your parents. At least I’m here.”
Under different circumstances, Mom’s expression would be comical. Her mouth opens and shuts several times and she practically sputters. But Grandma is right. Mom was furious earlier when she found out that her own parents decided not to come see Shan. They’re part of a team of DTA field agents who collaborate with international versions of our time-bending organization. And since they’re in the middle of a six-month work trip in China, they said they would just come visit once their assignment is finished. All because Shan’s injuries aren’t life-threatening. But I don’t expect them to even show up then. They didn’t even bother returning for Dad’s memorial ceremony last year. The last time we saw them was three years ago.
Mom closes her eyes and slides her hands slowly over her face, then looks back at Grandma. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just …” she trails off, her eyes drifting to Shan. “I’ve never been through something like this. It’s terrifying.”
“It is. I’ve been where you are. Only things didn’t work out so well.”
A thick silence follows. I know they’re thinking of Dad. We were devastated when his body was discovered last year, especially Grandma, but she forced herself to keep going. She said she had to be strong for Shan and me.
Suddenly I wish I could just tell them the truth about him. That he’s still alive. That someone has figured out how to stabilize clones, and he’s totally sane. But I can’t. They’d think I was having another breakdown.
A little while later, my DataLink chimes. It’s Elijah. “I’ll go to the waiting room,” I tell Mom.
“Come right back when you’re finished,” she says.
It’s weird. As I walk out of the room, something in the corner by the door catches my eyes. The air appears to shimmer for a moment. My heart begins to race. Could it be somebody cloaked? Maybe Dad? Or was it just my imagination. I stare at the spot for a few seconds, but I don’t see the shimmer anymore. I just shake my head. With everything that’s happened today, I must be seeing things. After all, I did have a large dose of Calmer right after the shooting, and hallucinations are sometimes a side effect.
In a quiet corner of the waiting room, I accept the comm. Elijah and Zed’s worried faces appear together. Since Zed’s fathers live
out of state, he usually stays with Elijah when he goes off campus on the weekends. But sometimes he flies out to California to visit them and his eleven-year-old sister, Alycia.
“How’s Shan doing?” Zed asks. For once, he’s completely serious.
“Okay. Thankfully his injuries weren’t serious.”
Elijah sighs in relief. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. But how are you doing? You could have been seriously hurt, man.”
“Yeah, I’m relieved that Professor March followed you again,” Zed adds. “I don’t even want to think about what could have happened if he hadn’t.”
I think back to the immediate aftermath of the shooting. Space-bending medics arrived within minutes. After Shan and the other wounded people were taken to the hospital, Professor March stayed with me while I answered the investigators’ questions, then he accompanied me to the hospital to meet Mom. He didn’t go in with me, though. He said his presence would probably agitate Mom. Before he left, I asked him why he followed us to the museum, and he said he’d had a gut feeling that he should watch out for us a little longer. I’m glad he did.
Elijah leans in closer and says, “You know what’s really scary? The DataFeed is reporting that the shooting here wasn’t as bad as in the other cities that Purist psycho mentioned. Nineteen dead in Mexico City, fifteen in Seattle, twenty-eight in New York, and ten here. All in museums that house artifacts brought back by Time Benders. That is one sick bastard to order something like that.”
“I know. I just don’t understand. What was he thinking? The government will never go along with what he wants,” I say. “And now everyone is going to be too damn afraid to do anything.”
“Yep, and to think all the gunmen were Space Benders. Furing traitors,” Zed says with a sneer.
That’s something I still can’t wrap my mind around. Why in the hell would Space Benders agree to commit murder for those Purist scum? In the attacks today, which all occurred simultaneously, the gunmen entered the museums, shot as many people as possible, then vanished before authorities could arrive. Time-bending agents who were sent back to investigate the crimes had no way to know where they went when they shifted.
Meaning it could happen again.
“You’re right, man. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life,” Elijah says.
“Yeah. I thought we were all going to die,” Zed says next.
“Same here. I never want to go through anything like that again.” I pause for a moment. “How are Tara and Alora? I don’t even remember seeing them after Shan was shot.”
“They’re fine. Tara’s parents picked her up, and Alora’s mom came for her right after that. My dad wouldn’t leave them alone at the museum,” Elijah says. “Let me tell you, Alora’s mom was freaked. I heard her saying she was never letting Alora out of her sight again.”
Zed nods. “I bet she’s having the worst birthday ever tonight.”
“It’s her birthday?” I ask.
“It will be tomorrow,” Zed replies. “But her mom was oh-so-insistent earlier that she come back home to celebrate with her.”
I feel awful for her now. I had no idea.
Grandma waves to me from the doorway. “I’ve got to go,” I say. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”
The moment I get back to Shan’s room, Mom says, “I’m going to let you go with Judith tonight. You’ll be more comfortable with her.”
“Really?” I ask, looking from her to Grandma. Mom has never liked me going to Grandma’s, and with the camping trip last weekend, I figured she would try to force me to stay away.
“We’ve come to an understanding,” Grandma says.
“You stay with her and don’t go anywhere else tonight. Understood?” Mom asks. “I’m not taking any chances of you getting hurt too. Not until those fanatics are found and Nulled.”
Then she gets up and hugs me. “I love you, Bridger.” Then she says to Grandma, “Please take care of him.”
“Always,” she replies.
I look away. I can’t remember the last time Mom said that she loved me. I can’t remember the last time Mom and Grandma were civil to each other. I blink a few times because my stupid eyes are filling up with tears. I tell myself to man up. Dad would never act like this.
It’s early in the evening by the time we get to Grandma’s place. She orders some food to be delivered to the apartment. Neither of us want to be out in public right now.
And apparently nobody else does, either. On the way here, the area was practically deserted. Except for the police and military Space Benders. There were even more of them out on patrol.
Grandma and I eat mostly in silence. She asks a few questions about what happened at the museum, but she already knows most of it. Investigators already questioned the survivors who weren’t injured. I still can’t believe that it happened. Mass shootings were common in the past, but things like that shouldn’t happen now.
All because of a few furing Purists. They’re so insistent on sticking with their backward way of thinking. If they paid attention to the past, they would know that violence like that doesn’t solve anything. If anything, the government will punish them even more. They’ll punish all of them, not just the Purists who were involved in the shootings.
“I’m exhausted. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed. Do not leave this apartment,” Grandma says.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Feeling restless, I activate the TeleNet and scroll through the DataFeed, but there’s nothing but news about the shooting, which I don’t want to relive. It’s seared into my brain. All the bodies scattered around the museum. I remember what Shan looked like when I got to him. He was lying on the ground, clutching his hand over the gunshot wound in his arm. And the blood. There was so much of it. On his clothes, on his face, on the floor. His face was so pale and ghostlike. He was in total shock. He couldn’t focus on anything. And he kept asking if he was going to die. I’m thankful Professor March was there to reassure him. I was a complete wreck.
I press my fists against my eyes. We used to be so close, but lately I’ve viewed him as nothing but a nuisance. If I’d just let him stay with us today, he wouldn’t have been hurt. I need to change—spend more time with him, like I used to when we were little.
I switch off the TeleNet, my thoughts drifting to Alora. I wish I could let her know that Shan’s going to be okay. But sending her a comm is off limits. I wonder what she’s doing tonight, how she’s reacting to everything. And then I remember what Elijah and Zed said. It’s her birthday tomorrow. I feel a pang of regret for not getting a present for her. I know, it’s ridiculous to care about that with the shooting and Shan getting hurt. But I do. I don’t know why, but I do.
Then I remember something. Last year, I stole the Jewill that her father had given her when she was a child. That’s because at the time I didn’t know that she really belonged in this century and thought it was a bad idea to leave future tech in the past. When I returned to this time period to find a Mind Redeemer, I stashed the Jewill in one of the hidden compartments in Dad’s desk.
I rush into his bedroom, which Grandma uses now. It still looks the same as when Dad lived here, only his scent—something kind of woodsy—is long gone. In the bathroom, I hear Grandma getting out of the shower. My fingers fly, opening the middle desk drawer of Dad’s antique desk, and seeking out the hidden compartment. I snatch out the Jewill and barely have enough time to stuff it in my pocket and get out of the room. A few moments later, she emerges in the living room, dressed in dark green pajamas.
“I thought you were going to bed,” I say.
She sits on the couch next to me and pats me on the knee. “I wanted to see how you were doing first. Are you okay?”
I shrug. “I suppose so, under the circumstances.” I look away for a moment, thinking of the warning we received right before the shooting. “Do you know if there’re any leads on finding the man in the vid?”
“I checked in at headquarters a little while ago. They did manage to identify him. His name is Jode Lincoln, and he was an Information Tech specialist who was fired ten years ago for hacking into his company’s system to steal money from wealthier Gen Mods who controlled the company. He served several years in prison for that, but since his release, he’s been living off the grid. We have no idea where he is now. We also haven’t had any success in identifying the shooters. It’s impossible to track Space Benders when they shift. But I can promise you that if they’re ever found, they will be charged with first-degree murder and Nulled. It’s beyond inexcusable that they would kill their own kind,” she says with a look of disgust. “I’m so frustrated. We haven’t been able to trace the origin of the broadcast, so that means Lincoln has professional-level tech help on his end. But we’re not giving up. We’ll find them, one way or another. People like that always make mistakes.”
She has to be right, but still, it’s hard to hear that the investigators don’t have any other leads. Since the threat was made to the government and all Gen Mods, the feds will be involved in trying to stop them. That means local police will be working with military Space, Time, and Mind Benders. Hopefully it won’t take too long to catch the shooters. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like otherwise.
And that makes me think of Ellis and the Sim of our war-torn future. These rogue Purists have to be responsible for the bioweapon he told me about. But how would they have access to that kind of tech? I understand how they could learn to hack into the DataNet. That’s something anybody can learn to do, with enough patience. But creating a weapon that specifically targets Gen Mods is something only a geneticist would be able to do. Purists aren’t allowed to enter fields like that anymore. So that means there must be even more traitors working for them than just the Space Benders.
On Through the Never Page 18