Cursed Apprentice (Earth Survives Book 2)

by R. R. Roberts

  When Conrad had finally met the man, the reason became clear. Moses Zhang had been disfigured in some way. His left arm was badly burned, barely useful to him now, and he walked awkwardly.

  Perhaps his need for traveling under the radar wasn’t nefarious, but pride?

  Not what Mike had expected from the Moses Zhang he’d known back home. Back in their natural world, Moses strutted all over Cloud Rez, and was rumored to be engaged in numerous affairs with high ranking, influential women. It was how he’d gotten the Time Bore built in the first place. Influence, pressure, seduction, persuasion, blackmail—whatever it took.

  Even when Coru and Moses had been friends back in school, Moses had been a bit of a ladies’ man, and full of himself, Mike had thought, though he’d been young at the time and Coru didn’t bring Zhang around often. Zhang’s days of seducing women were over here in WEN 2038, he guessed.

  The fact was, Zhang didn’t need them anymore. He played the market the same as Mike did. Advanced knowledge ensured rich rewards—always.

  “…Cherry feel?”

  Mike blinked and focused on Con. “Sorry?”

  “You’re checking out a lot lately, boss. What’s going on?”

  Mike shook his head. “Stuff. Business. What did you say?”

  “I was wondering if Cherry would be up for this. I know she likes lots of notice for public outings and the party’s tonight.”

  Mike narrowed his eyes and replied dryly, “She’ll be there.”

  Con tilted his head and grimaced. “I hope so. I talked her up as well. Zhang is expecting you both.”

  “She’ll be there. She knows how important this is to me.”

  Con drained his cup and stood. “Okay. You still want me to take you over to the north shore?”

  “Nah—I’ll get there on my own. You take a break. You’ll be there tonight, right?”

  “All security personnel will be there tonight. Mandatory.”

  “Then I’ll see you then. Thanks Conrad. This…this is important.”

  “I know it,” Con replied, heading for the door already. “See you tonight.”

  Mike waved, “Thanks again,” then strode to Cherry’s door, rapped his knuckles on it and poked his head inside. Cherry started, turning in alarm. What was she writing, “The insider’s guide on how to make your husband feel guilty twenty-four seven”?

  She said, “Yes?”

  He noticed she covered the page she was writing on with her hand. Smooth, Cherry, smooth. “We’re going to Zhang Corp’s big annual fundraiser tonight. Con got us a last-minute invite. Get your girl up here—spend the day preening. I need you to look your best.”

  Her lips thinned.

  “I want every man jealous of my beautiful wife tonight.”

  Her face softened, and she looked suddenly so sad—as if she might cry. She knew she wasn’t what she had been. They both knew why. Mike didn’t have to be a doctor to know what had changed in Cherry’s life. He did love her, and it wasn’t her fault. It was nobody’s fault. It was what it was. “Come on, honey, make me proud. You know I love to show you off. Maybe wear the red dress tonight?”

  Her answering smile was still sad, but here was the old Cherry, the real Cherry, who he loved. She was seeing him now, and she would look good for him tonight. Even thirty pounds heavier, Cherry was still a stunning woman.

  “I have to go out this morning—check up on Chelsea. I’ll be back in lots of time to make the gala. Have Jones press my grey tux?”

  Mike drove himself to the north shore, he always did. His checking in on Chelsea was something he did without fanfare and now merely out of habit. He had no real expectations of meeting Charles Wood any longer. The man was simply not in the picture. Mike had put a private dick on his trail and found Charles and Wren were travellers, moving sporadically around the globe, in search of who knew what. Charles was certainly not producing the science he was supposed to have done; it seemed it simply was no longer in him. Mike had decided his best bet was to focus on Zhang, neutralize him and somehow hustle the man back through the Bore. Once that was accomplished, and his influence no longer here in the early twenty-first century, Mike would figure out the next step.

  One thing at a time.

  Would tonight turn the tide his way? How soon could he earn Zhang’s trust, enough to get his sorry-self back in that alley and through that Bore? It seemed a lifetime ago that Mike had dropped from the thing himself. So much had changed. He had changed.

  Parking, he used his key-card to enter Chelsea’s building, and rode up in the elevator, a clutch of mums and daisies he’d picked up at a local grocery store in his hand. He no longer brought her gin. He just couldn’t be part of her demise. Yes, he’d accepted the fact she was a drunk, and did nothing to stop her regular deliveries, but he didn’t like it. He knew what her life should have been, back before the Bore and Zhang’s arrival in her world, and this was so far from it, it actually made him sick.

  The elevator doors opened, and he stepped out into the hallway. Tonight, he’d make his first contact with Zhang. Could it lead to Chelsea’s life being restored somehow? He had no idea. Was he wasting his time? Was it already too late? Time travel was a slippery sucker. If he could have entered that Bore entrance himself, alone, and been successful in returning to his own time, no matter how it had changed, he would have done it long ago.

  Approaching the door, he let himself in quietly, not wanting to startle Chelsea. He’d learned to approach the woman as you would a wild animal, with caution and possibly gloves, lest she strike out in anger. He was sometimes a slow learner, but this lesson had stuck quick. Alcoholics were an unpredictable bunch…

  “Chelsea?” he asked, advancing into the still tidy condo. It looked as if the maid service had made a recent visit. The place looked and smelled clean. A plus. He frowned when he heard voices coming from down the hall, from the bedroom, a room Chelsea did not use. She ate, drank, slept and zoned out before the big screen TV he’d installed, all from the living room couch, an all-purpose piece of furniture. And she never had visitors.

  He moved quietly down the hallway. Had someone ingratiated themselves into Chelsea’s life? Were they taking advantage of the woman? If so, he’d take care of them swiftly.

  At the doorway, he rocked back in shock. Chelsea sat meekly on the edge of her bed while her daughter, Wren, unpacked women’s clothing that she’d obviously purchased for her mother.

  He’d know Wren anywhere—she hadn’t changed much in her teenage years. She was young. She would be seventeen, and was strikingly beautiful—athletic, blonde and fresh looking, her eyes startling blue, her skin creamy smooth, though now her cheeks were aflame, her eyes flashing with annoyance—he guessed. Chelsea tended to inspire annoyance.

  He stepped into the room and cleared his throat. “Excuse me—.”

  The two women gasped, and together turned to face him.

  “Who are you?” Wren demanded, dropping the sweater she had been showing her mother, stepping in front of her protectively.

  Oh yeah—she would be able to read his thoughts. How flipping inconvenient. He wasn’t prepared. What—what did he want her to know? He scrambled for something to fill his mind with, something neutral and unthreatening. Tonight’s gala popped into his head. Drinks, trays of appies, schmoozing, well-heeled people, seeing and being seen. Zhang; Time Bore. He scrambled for something else. Maid service, gin deliveries… He glanced down at his hand, saw the flowers and shoved them forward. “I brought you flowers. Chelsea, that is.”

  Wren’s eyes narrowed, and she stared right through him. And didn’t he go immediately to envisioning taking her mother’s wedding rings from the safe…

  Her face hardened. “You! It was you! You set this all up—helping yourself to everything and anything. You made sure she had regular deliveries of liquor, right to her front door! Are you insane? I’m calling the police!”

  He held out his hands. “No. No. Stop. It isn’t like you think. I wasn’t lookin
g for this. I found your mother purely by accident.” He recalled searching for her address and his joy at finally locating her. And didn’t Wren pick that up immediately—he saw it in her face. This picking over his every thought was dangerous.

  He pressed his lips closed, and took a deep breath, forcing himself to picture Chelsea’s apartment when he’d first met her, a hoarder’s dream of crap piled to the ceiling in every room, leaving only a narrow pathway from the bathroom to the kitchen to the living room.

  Wren blinked in surprise and faltered.

  Encouraged, he pictured cleaning out the piles of stuff, the tearing up of stinking, ruined carpet, repainting each room, the installation of the bamboo flooring, the regular maid service, the regular delivery of prepared meals. He reluctantly added in the liquor store deliveries, but it was what it was, and Wren’s nostrils flared.

  He shrugged. What would she do in his place? The fact was, her mother was a drunk. At least this way, she was a safe drunk.

  Chelsea’s eyes darted from her daughter to Mike and back, then blurted, “You’re doing it again, aren’t you? You’re reading his thoughts! Stop it, Wren, right this minute. It’s not right!”

  Wren flushed and dropped her eyes. Mike sagged against the door frame. Was that it? Was the invasive inquisition over? He couldn’t take it; he had too many secrets.

  Wren murmured something to her mother, then marched toward the door, grabbed Mike by his arm and pulled him from the room and down the hallway with her. She was surprisingly strong. “You are not welcome here anymore. I know you feel like you did something good here. And you did. But I know you stole from my mother too, and I can’t have that. Where are her rings?”

  He pulled up, stopping the bum’s rush to the condo door. “You know just looking at them made her cry, right?”

  “I… no. I didn’t realize.”

  “Well,” he bluffed, hardly believing his good luck she was no longer reading his mind. “I took them away so she wouldn’t feel sad when she saw them. If I’d wanted to clean her out, I’d have taken all her jewellery. She still has it. I could have cleaned out her account. I didn’t. I set up all her bills to be paid automatically. When I got here, she was way behind and in danger of being cut off. I made sure she had good fresh food every day. I got the maid service in twice a week and told them to toss the old food away—.”

  Wren held up her hand in acceptance. “Okay. I get it. You’re the good guy.” She looked at him balefully. “But you’re still the good guy who stole and sold my mother’s wedding rings.”

  Mike flushed at this. He hadn’t sold the engagement ring. Cherry wore it still.

  Wren’s pupils dilated at this thought.

  “Get out of my head!”

  “How do you know I can read your thoughts?”

  “Your mother told me.”

  Wren’s expression hardened again. “No, she didn’t.”

  “Okay—she didn’t.” She could barely stand, let alone gossip about her missing daughter. “It doesn’t matter how I know. The fact is I do know.” He ran song lyrics through his brain now, which had been his plan when he’d first arrived and had forgotten until just this minute. “Where have you been while your mother drinks herself into an early grave?”

  “None of your business.” She stuck out her hand. “I’ll take that key-card now. You’re not welcome here any longer. I see you here again, I’ll call the cops.”

  “You’ll look after her now?” he pulled the card from his jacket and handed it over, along with the bunch of flowers. “These are for your mother.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah—like you care. You were checking up on her…” Her eyes widened. “And on me. You’re looking for my dad.”

  “Y-yes. I was, I mean, I am. Where is your dad?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because he’s important. His work is important.”

  Now she laughed. “Oh, so you’re one of those guys. Buttering up my father, wanting to steal from him. He’s seen enough of you to last a lifetime. You’re the reason I don’t even know where he is myself.”

  She stalked to the door and yanked it open. Motioning with her arm, she said, “Out. And never come back here. I’m looking after my mother now. Don’t come back or you’ll find yourself in jail for theft.”

  Mike did as she asked. He knew already Charles Wood no longer had any impact on this time. Zhang was the answer. All Wren Wood had the power to do was invade his thoughts and he wasn’t having any of that. Outside in the hall he turned to face her. He had nearly three years on her and he would have the last word on this. “You do realize she would be dead by now if not for me.”

  She swung the door shut in his face.

  MIKE WAS FEELING LIGHTER, happier and more hopeful than he had at any other time since he’d arrived in this God-forsaken time period. He was free of Chelsea. There was no good reason to pursue the Charles and Wren Wood angle any longer. He was off the hook there. And now, he was standing with his gorgeous wife at the event of the season, about to meet Moses Zhang. What could be more perfect?

  He smiled down at Cherry and tucked her hand inside his arm. She smiled back at him, all trace of resentment or reproach gone from her face. She was happy. He was glad to see Cherry happy. Together they advanced along the receiving line, glad-handing, exchanging greetings, introductions, compliments. It was wonderful—they had at last arrived. His chest was so filled with joy, it felt as if his face would split with the grin he could not erase. Some might play this safe, play this cool, but he was not afraid to let everyone know—he was completely stoked to be there.

  And his stomach was bunching up in anticipation as they moved along. Only three people between himself and Moses Zhang, who stood within reaching distance on the receiving line, handsome as ever, though, like Mike, Zhang also wore a wig to hide his head tattoos. Moses chatted amiably with each person in turn, shaking their hands with his right hand, his left arm and hand sheathed in white silk so there was no sight of his skin at all, and then cradled in another silk scarf, this fashioned into a tasteful sling over one broad shoulder. If a sling could be thought of as tasteful, this would be it: it was dyed perfectly to match his tux. Attention to detail or what? Mike couldn’t help wondering how much effort had been put into this particular presentation, this “look” for the public. Zhang obviously valued his appearance still, despite his handicap here in WEN 2038.

  Mike and Cherry moved up another step. “This is important,” Mike murmured nervously to Cherry.

  She laughed softly. “You’ve said that a dozen times already, sweetheart. I get it. This is important. I’ll charm the socks off him, I promise.”

  He patted her hand, noticing how much warmer her hand was than his. His hand was as cold as ice. He was nervous, and Zhang would know it the moment they clasped hands. Mike rubbed his hands together surreptitiously, trying to warm them before they stepped in front of Zhang. He’d waited so long for this meeting and now, abruptly, it felt too soon—he wasn’t ready!

  Cherry brought both his hands inside her own and pressed warmth into them. “You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry so much. You deserve to be here as much as anyone else. You’ve supported dozens of good causes. Zhang knows this, otherwise you wouldn’t have been invited.”

  They stepped forward again, only one other person between Mike and Zhang now. Mike listened tensely to their exchange. They knew one another from some club, a club Mike was not a member of. That’s what he had failed to do. Join social clubs—it was so obvious. He cursed himself for not having done it!

  Finally, after the pleasantries, the man moved on, and Mike and Cherry stepped forward.

  Now, at long last—after years of climbing out of the gutter, bettering himself, raising himself, wining, dining, schmoozing, bribing, and, frankly, sucking up. Now he was standing before his target. Moses Zhang stared at him, his eyes darkening, his easy smile stiffening for a fraction of a moment before easing. Zhang reached out his hand, grip
ping Mike’s icy one in his, no sign of registering Mike’s nerves.

  “So, you are the famous Mike Eggers. I’ve heard good things about your work.”

  Mike froze, unable to speak.

  Cherry laughed lightly. “And I’m his wife, Cherry Eggers, Mr. Zhang, in case my husband is unable to break out of his man crush and introduce us. Mike has wanted to meet you for a very long time. He’s admired your work greatly. You’ve been his inspiration. Everything Mike does for the environment, he does because of your good example.”

  Zhang turned his attention to Cherry, his eyes appreciative of her generous proportions, the red gown showing off her feminine attributes to their best advantage. “How flattering, to know I have influenced the famous Mike Eggers in any way, Mrs. Eggers.”

  “Please, call me Cherry.”

  Zhang raised his eyebrows coyly. “Why thank you; I absolutely will, Cherry. It will be my very great pleasure to get better acquainted with you and your husband later.”

  His gaze passed on to the couple behind them. Mike blurted, “I’d like to talk with you about some of my ideas.”

  Zhang’s gaze did not falter. Mike was already forgotten, Zhang’s smile was now only for the new arrivals.

  Could I be more cornball than this? Mike shrank inside himself. He’d totally blown it. If not for Cherry’s determinedly charming dialogue, this was a complete wash. And it had taken a whole year of preparation for him to fall so spectacularly on his face before Moses Zhang. Where was Coru when he needed him? Embarrassed, he fell away from the line abruptly, dragging a startled Cherry with him. Where the hell was Coru? If he’d bothered to show up, Mike wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.