by Claire Davon
Fiona thought for a minute. “It might.”
There was a long pause. Again, people pushed around them, some giving them impatient glares. A cable car passed them, its bell clanging.
“You’re a romantic,” she said. “I figured that much out when you ran off with Sonder. What I didn’t expect was Sonder. He never expressed those impulses in the time he was a Guardian. Nobody got to know him.”
Fiona didn’t see how that was relevant, but she said nothing.
Illiria seemed to see her look, and shrugged. “My point is you never know what a person is thinking. I had no idea the heart of a romantic beat under Sonder’s cool exterior. The reverse was true. I’m not a romantic, as you are, but who doesn’t want love? Our ranks are small, and fluid, and few others appealed to me. Rogald did, and I appealed to him. We…found time. It’s not ideal. The Commander had forbidden it, and when you met us I was up for disciplinary action. Now,” she shrugged, the motion tense. “Now it’s an asset.”
Fiona thought for a moment. “That’s pretty deep,” she said. “There are so many things to think about. Your disciplinary action, it’s done, right? You’re not in trouble because of me?”
“Because of Rogald,” Illiria corrected. “No, not any longer, but thank you for asking. When the Commander went rogue, both of us realized we had to take a different tack to deal with you and Sonder. My…relationship with Rogald became a positive, instead of a negative, after the situation with Rogald came to light. Your connection, your odd link, made him the go-to man in his group, and I wanted in. They weren’t too sure about me, given our history, but Rogald insisted. He loves me, and I him.”
None of it answered Fiona’s question, but she nodded as if it made sense.
“So the two groups decided to band together to work with me? And Sonder?”
“You’re the Traveler. One of the things we don’t know is where the legends came from, but we all know them. We tried tracing them but they seem to have always been there, and have no origin. You’re a myth more than a person. Trust me, Fiona, we have tried everything to get to the Event. We tried using our devices to hone in on the picture we had.” Illiria looked at Fiona. “A picture that appears to have taken by you. We bounced back. Nothing we did got through. We all know the Event is out there and it freaks the shit out of me. But neither group was able to get close, and we have no information coming from after that time. It is as if everything stops, and never starts again.”
Fiona realized they were still standing in the middle of the sidewalk. “Come on, let’s walk,” she said, and tugged on Illiria’s sleeve.
“Did you ever think the Event was a myth?” Fiona asked, and Illiria nodded.
“We wanted to think that. But it’s hard to when communication stops. There’s a barrier. We are close enough in time to know that. It’s so maddening. The one thing I would give anything to fix, and I can’t.” They were nearing the top of the hill.
“That is why I work with you, Fiona. Right or wrong, whatever I think, you’re all we’ve got. You have to stop it, Fiona. Rogald told me what it was like. He wakes up at night sometimes, his skin is cold and he’s sweating. It is burned into his mind, a terrifying reality whereas all of us the rest have is the pictures. Those are frightening enough.”
“You have to stop it,” she repeated. You have to. I don’t know why you have these powers, or who this Voice is you hear. I thought you were crazy, and maybe you are. But there is no question you can do what none of us can, and jump outside our limits, and to places we can only dream of. You went to Thera,” she breathed, and for the first time Fiona heard admiration in Illiria’s voice. “You went to Ubar. You went to the Event, and lived. You can freeze time, and you can manipulate events. You’re a little scary in what you can do, even if you are silly most of the time.”
Fiona flushed. She guessed her actions would appear inane to some people, or maybe irresponsible was a better word.
“I intend to stop it, Illiria, if I can.” She realized she had said it almost as a vow. “If we can,” she amended. “I need everyone to make this happen. I forgot about Gire,” she said, with a spot of regret. “How is he?”
“Gire?” Illiria asked, her brows furrowing for a moment. “He’s fine. He took Sonder’s place when Sonder…left. He was thrilled to get the promotion.”
“Do we need him? Do we need any more hands?”
Illiria tilted her head and then shook it. “No, I don’t think so. Come. We should check out the tunnels.”
Chapter 4
On the top of the rise, gentle hills sloped down around them. Green trees dotted the landscape, along with high scrub.
Rogald pointed down the hill. “Once there was a group called the Suicide Club who liked to push the boundaries. They found this abandoned military complex. They were World War II and Cold War bunkers were sealed up in the 1970s. The show kept the entrance points secret, but they’re easy enough to find when you have time.”
Dirt showed in patches where people had crawled down onto the concrete structure. Fiona eyed the entrance with trepidation.
“This is super illegal,” she said. “Why are we here? We’re not going to go down there, are we?” There were easier ways to get to the bunker, Fiona thought. Easier, safer, and less dirty.
“Because of that show they have sealed off this entrance, and all the others that club knew about,” Illiria said, pointing to the locked grate now covering the small concrete opening. There would be no easy way in. Fiona was ashamed to admit she breathed out a sigh of relief.
“I don’t understand why we’re here,” she admitted. “Why don’t we jump inside?”
It was quiet where they were, but not too far away were people.
“Does this look familiar?” When Fiona shook her head, Illiria nodded. “We’re here because I’m not sure where your pictures were taken. Not here,” she said, and gestured to the hill. They couldn’t see the Golden Gate from this vantage point, so Fiona knew this wasn’t where the all-important picture was taken. Pictures, she reminded herself, remembering the tablet Sonder was in possession of.
“I still don’t understand,” Fiona said, scowling.
Illiria pointed. “You are only going to have seconds when you do take the pictures,” she said. “As Sonder said, even with the best suits his time, or the time after, will be able to provide, you won’t survive long in that atmosphere. The wind will rip through your suit. You or Sonder took the pictures, and sent them back. You succeeded, but we want to know where you took them from. We want to give you as much as we can to ensure your success.”
“How will that help?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Illiria said. “But all the information we gather will be useful. There are many entrances to this bunker. We want to be careful jumping there because we don’t want to burn any times we might need later. Therefore we are scouting first, jumping afterwards. I don’t know if we’ll need all these reference points, but I know you work better when you can visualize something you’ve already seen.” She looked at the small opening. “It doesn’t look like much, does it? Who knew the underground of this city was laced with a massive military bunker? Thank god for overbuilding in the 1950s,” she said with a laugh. “It might save the earth.” She gestured down. “We should get back.”
Fiona was grateful for the training Sonder had insisted they do. Her legs and arms were much stronger now, a product of their continued daily workouts.
“What next?” she asked as they made their way back down to where people were. Over her shoulder Fiona could see the city and the bridge. She needed to figure out where they took those pictures, she knew, if only to have an orientation in this time frame, with the city whole and vibrant around them.
“Now we meet our men, and we jump to the bunker. They should be back by now.” She looked at Fiona for a long time, as if assessing her again. “You did well. You didn’t complain at all. I have hated the idea that you are the one thing standing between us and
the end of the world, but I’m starting to think you will work out after all.”
Starting to think? Fiona thought, feeling heat on her cheeks.
“You know, you are rude,” she blurted out. “Not to mention insensitive.”
Illiria shrugged. “I’m not wrong, just blunt. Rogald thinks it’s part of my charm. You’re all we’ve got, Fiona. You have to succeed or none of us do. It’s hard for me to put my trust in anything, especially an untrained, impulsive woman who doesn’t understand what she’s got. You’re a hell of an unknown to rely on. But that’s what we have and since it is, I will do everything in my power to help. It’s my world too, Fiona, and I would never forgive myself if I didn’t give this my all. I don’t have to like you to tell you to count on me.”
Fiona was quiet. Part of her wanted to be liked, and wailed at the unfairness of Illiria’s condemnation. Then she nodded. “Okay, fair enough. Let’s get back.”
#
Sonder was flipping through the pictures when they got back. He kept thumbing through them, pausing on one and then another, as if memorizing them. She wondered how the one picture had made its way into the system, and why just one? There had been several. Why did one survive?
She asked the question of the gathered time travelers. They were sorting through the equipment Sonder and Rogald had bought. Rope. Climbing gear. Flashlights. A self-powered clock. Medical kits. Survival food and water. Fiona touched all of it and turned to look at the trio.
“We look like we’re getting ready for a siege,” she said.
Rogald was surfing on his tablet, and looked up at her comment. “We might be, Traveler. We have to be prepared for anything.”
She picked up one of the packets of water and made a face. “Looks nasty.”
“Not if it’s the only thing standing between you and dying of thirst,” Sonder said, joining her. “Not if it saves your life.”
She blinked, and in a flash, understood. Fiona looked at the clock.
“You think the Commander will make his final stand there and we are going to wait for him. You think this bunker will survive the Event, and we can make a base there.”
Illiria nodded, looking pleased. “That’s correct, Traveler. We sent Gire back and forward in time to find a suitable room or area in the bunker that, once abandoned, is never discovered. Not by the Suicide Club, not by homeless people, not by anyone. It stays unmolested for the entire trip through time.”
“It stayed unmolested,” Rogald corrected her. “We are about to disturb its dusty self.”
Fiona turned to Sonder. “But this stuff expires. It won’t be much good in the time of the Event.”
Sonder’s expression was impossible to read. “You’ve never tried transporting something non-human in time, but there is a first time for everything. Once we are settled, we’re going to send some of these supplies forward. First, we have to find an appropriate time to get everything there. We’ll use the van to get the supplies closer.”
Fiona frowned. “I know we’re not like the Terminator, and arrive naked at our destination, but I guess I didn’t realize we could move things through time as well.”
Rogald walked over. “We can, but it takes so much energy it isn’t worth it. We don’t have the power to jump with more than what is on our body unless it’s an extreme emergency. That’s why we wanted to scout out the entrance ways first.”
“So this stuff…” Fiona indicated the pile of survival gear. “We are going to go into this bunker and what? Wait for the Commander to show? I don’t get the plan? Somebody enlighten me.”
Sonder palmed a clip and studied her. “We are storing it here.” He gestured to the yard beyond them. “There is a bomb shelter. We get the stuff into the bunker.” He pointed to the clock. “That will work underground. It will be calibrated for day and date as well as minutes and hours. We will be able to use it as a reference point to jump, whenever we need to.”
It looked like a simple thing, an ordinary clock with hands and numbers. Who knew it was going to possibly be their salvation.
She nodded. “I get it. That’s smart. It’s like what we did on Santorini, when we jumped with Rogald…oh, sorry Rogald,” she finished, trailing to a halt. She was sure he didn’t want to remember the times when they had jumped three times to three different points in time, two within the span of a few days and the one back to his new home in the 1950s. That was ancient history, she also knew that, but sometimes she still felt guilty.
“I got the idea from that,” Rogald said, waving off her stammered apologies. “We need to have simple things, things that won’t fail us if everything goes to hell. When everything goes to hell.” He pointed to the picture.
“Can I ask a question?” Fiona said. Something in her tone must have caught the others, because all of them stopped and looked at her.
After a moment, Illiria nodded, but not before she gave Rogald a look that could have been anything from concern to impatience.
She rubbed her hands together, unsure of how to begin.
“I know you’ve said we’re doing the right thing, but how can we be sure? Maybe this is our fate. Maybe the Commander is right. Maybe he’s trying to stop me from causing it, instead of the other way around. Maybe all this is window dressing for me doing something horrible and being the instrument of humanity’s destruction. What about that? What if I’m the one, not a savior but a destroyer? Have you considered it?”
Sonder pulled her against him, his expression fierce. “Never doubt yourself, kale mou. You are not a killer.”
“Of course we considered it,” Illiria said, cutting across whatever Sonder was going to say next. “We ran all those scenarios as well, after the Commander went rogue. He was our leader and you were an anomaly, a danger. We looked into every option, including the ones you mentioned. I thought there was a strong possibility you were the cause of the Event. I could see you getting in over your head and destroying us all.”
She looked at Rogald. Sonder moved in front of Fiona, half shielding her from his former leader.
“You didn’t, Illiria.”
She shrugged. “We’ve worked together for years, Sonder. Of course I did. You would have done the same if you hadn’t been so blinded by your attraction to her. I had to consider it. Both groups did.”
She should have expected it, but it still took her off guard.
“What did you find?”
Illiria and Rogald shared a glance, as if trying to decide how much to tell her. Rogald gave her a look as if to say “better it come from me than you,” and Illiria nodded.
“We found nothing conclusive,” Rogald admitted, staying where he was and eyeing Sonder. “The scenarios all came back without answers. Since we can’t within fifty years of the Event, we have no way to run projections that take variables around that time frame into account. We can’t know for sure. We did run the other scenarios, the same ones the Commander ran,” he admitted, and she felt Sonder tense.
“You didn’t,” he said with a rough quality in his voice. “You didn’t consider what I think you’re saying.”
Rogald looked uncomfortable. “They ran it,” he said.
Fiona looked at both of them. “Ran what? You already said the Commander ran the scenarios about killing me, and they didn’t work out.”
“Nonetheless,” Illiria said. “We ran them again. In case there was a flaw in his logic. He was insane by then, as you know.”
Hurt and fury warred within her. Fiona wanted to run and it was only Sonder’s warm bulk that made her stay. This was her life and her death they were discussing.
“Did anything change?” she asked.
Illiria shook her head.
“No, of course not,” Fiona said with a sharp noise that wasn’t a laugh and not quite a moan. “If it had changed then we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?”
Illiria shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. You’re resourceful, even impulsive and untrained. Some of the scenarios are interesting.”
Sonder smiled at her, putting his hand on her cheek. “That’s my Fiona,” he said. “Don’t you dare,” he said to his former leader. “You touch one hair on her and you will have me to reckon with.”
“There’s that too,” Rogald admitted. “The wrath of Sonder Michan is something special. Remind me never to cross you, pal.”
That didn’t make Fiona feel any better. Even if it was a scenario, she had died over and over again, to test their theories and possibilities. She wanted to walk away and never look back.
“What about the Commander? What do the scenarios show if you take him out?”
Illiria and Rogald both shook their heads so fast they could have been on a swivel.
“Nope,” Rogald said. “Bad idea. He’s a known quantity and his descendants are trackable. If we remove him the time displacement still happens, but the person is unknown. Under those conditions there are ten people who could do it. In none of the scenarios did the Event fail to occur. We think. Even in scenarios the time stops before the Event is reached, so we have to assume the outcome is the same. At least with the Commander we know what we are getting.”
Time didn’t like to change, she reminded herself. Time liked to stay the way it was. What they were talking about doing was the ultimate in changing time.
“We’re back to my original question,” she said, pondering the possibilities. “How do we know we’re doing the right thing?”
It was not supposed to happen. It must be corrected.
Fiona jumped, and yelped. Sonder looked at her in concern.
“Fiona?”
She shook her head. The Voice was like that unwanted uncle who sat in the corner at Christmas and came up with good zingers.
It is our fault. It must be corrected.
“We don’t know we’re doing the right thing,” Rogald said, eyeing her in suspicion. “What happened? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
Sonder gripped her shoulder. “Fiona?”
“If we don’t know,” she persisted, shaking her head to try and clear it. “Then how can we be sure of anything?”