“I just don’t see that person as Michael,” Doug said. “It doesn’t matter whether no one knew who he was. The powers that be would never let the Orchestrator die. Without him, their work stalls.”
We continued in silence. I cut through my seat with a knife and hid the journal. There was a strong possibility that Chip wasn’t who he said he was, and it would have been stupid to leave the journal in plain sight. Doug remained sprawled in the backseat. Curtis whistled and kept his eye on the road. I thought back to everything that had happened since Tristan Galloway sent the video back with the son he gave to me, trying to remember something I might have missed.
We arrived in Stockton an hour later. Visiting someone who wasn’t expecting you at 5 a.m. wasn’t the smartest idea, but we thought the unsocial hour would work in our favor. Curtis turned into the same winding road Chip’s driver had taken us along when we came the last time.
Something felt different, though. The flat silence was more noticeable, for one thing. No birds flew in the sky or even chirped. We drove for a few minutes and then reached the front gates. They were already open.
When we were within view of the house, I stared at it wide-eyed. Curtis parked the car in the middle of the empty driveway and gave me a blank stare.
“What is this?” Doug said.
We got out and stared at the house without speaking, like we had been hypnotized. The door was wide open. There were no curtains on the windows. No sign of life whatsoever.
We heard a brief shuffling to our right, and Curtis drew his Glock. The shuffling returned after a few seconds. Doug flashed a torch in its direction. We saw a fox scampering away. We turned to the house once more, the shock still preventing any of us from speaking.
I took a step forward, but Curtis stopped me. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“Still think this is all a coincidence?”
He let go and I continued. I stepped through the front door and walked in. Doug and Curtis caught up, but Doug still grimaced in pain with each step. Curtis’ regenerative cells had done a great job of healing him, but it wasn’t an instantaneous process. I studied the main hall of the house, more shock on my face. All that fine Brazilian rosewood I’d seen during our first visit was gone, as if someone had stripped everything down. In its place was coarse timber everywhere. There were no sofas or tables. We might as well have been somewhere else altogether. I walked toward a light switch and pushed it. Nothing. I went to another, and another. None of them worked. All we had to light our way were Doug’s flashlight and the sliver of moonlight that shone in.
“What’s going on?” Doug said.
“This can’t be explained,” Curtis said, looking at Doug and me. “Unless Chip made a run for it after hearing what happened to Michael.”
“No way,” I said. “He didn’t have enough time to clear his house like this. This must have taken maybe a hundred men or more. Maybe even some Shriniks. This is a week’s work, maybe more. They must have done this in, what, six hours? This must have been planned well in advance.”
“That makes no sense,” Curtis said. “How did they know to have it ready for us and then tear it down the second we left?”
I scratched my head and walked around the dark hall. “It must be Michael. He must have something to do with all this.”
We walked around the house, venturing upstairs and through the halls. The rich aromas had been replaced by dampness. I’d hoped to get answers by coming here, but all I got were more questions. Had the Shriniks done this? Was Michael alive? The whole thing was just strange. We took a thorough look around and didn’t see any personal effects. No photographs, no loose pieces of paper, nothing. It was a thorough clear-out. I bet we won’t even be able to find fingerprints if we try.
We left the house thirty minutes later and walked to the car. We leaned against it, staring at the dark skies.
“What now?” Doug said. None of answered. He faced Curtis. “If we went somewhere else—say, Europe—would you be able to work the portal?”
I stared at Doug and frowned. “What’re you saying?”
He shrugged. “It’s over. There’s nothing we can do. I say we just get out while we can.”
I shook my head. “You’re kidding, right?”
“We have the journal,” Doug said. “That’s leverage. But if we stay here, they’ll find us and kill us. If we go through another portal, we can go to any year we want, regroup somewhere else. Maybe use the information in the journal to our advantage.”
“Or I can take it back to 2086 like I was going to do,” Curtis said. “But instead give it to the rebels. You could both come with me.”
I grunted and took a few steps forward. I turned around, my face tight. “Are you hearing yourselves? We can’t just run.” I faced Curtis. “And what good will taking it to 2086 do? By then they’ve already won. We’ll stand out like rabbits.” I pointed at the car. “The journal’s got the blueprints to the master portal, right?”
They nodded.
“But what if they’ve moved it by 2086. What then?”
Neither one spoke.
“If we run now, we’ll never find the Orchestrator, but he’ll find us wherever we go.”
“Michael, right?” Doug said in a condescending tone. “The person who’s been helping us all this time? The person we saw die?”
I faced the ground. Curtis walked forward and held my hand. “We need to lay low for a while. It doesn’t have to be 2086, but there’s nowhere in 2013 they won’t find us. They have people everywhere.”
“But they’ll find us even if we use a European portal.”
Curtis shook his head. “Maybe not. Remember, I helped build them. There might be a way to hide where we’re going.”
I continued pacing. I had no right to tell them what to do. After all the deaths, they were entitled to go their own way. “I’m not running,” I said. “These people took everything from me. My medication is practically finished.” I reached into my purse and held the bottle up. I shook it and strained to see the drop of liquid at the bottom. “This is all I have left. You two can go if you want, but I’m staying here. I’m not giving them time to regroup.”
Doug moved toward me, irritation on his face. “But what are you going to do, really?”
“We destroy the master portal and stop time travel altogether. You said it yourself. Without it, they won’t be able to bring all their people here. And without going back and forth, they’ll never be able to acclimatize or weaponize Crixanipam.” I glanced at the car. “We have the C4. All we need to do is use it.”
“But where?” Doug said. “All we have are blueprints for the master location, nothing else.”
Curtis stood between us and faced me. “You do know that if you destroy the master portal, everything you see when you return to your time will be different.”
I nodded. “Any future without your kind lying to us will be better than it was when I came here. No offense.”
Curtis raised his hands. “None taken. If you’re serious about this, I’m in.”
Doug looked at him with wide eyes. “You got a plan?”
“Not yet,” Curtis said. “But it’s not even been a day. With rest and food, we’ll figure this out.”
Doug nodded. “Well, I’m not leaving you guys, so I guess I’m in, too.”
I ran forward and embraced both of them.
Chapter Forty-One
We parked a mile from Chip’s house, underneath two large trees and off the beaten path. Then we slept in the car. Empty or not, there was no way we were going to stay in plain sight. A team of Shriniks could have shown up to take us out as quickly as the house had been taken apart. We drove back toward L.A. after we woke up the next day. Doug kept reminding us how crazy we were for going back to a city where humans and aliens wanted us dead. But I figured that we were as safe in L.A. as we were anywhere else in the country.
We checked into a hotel in Bakersfield, a hundred and ten miles from L.A. I had just
over a thousand dollars left from the money I’d brought back from the future. The place looked like it hadn’t seen a cleaner in months. The white walls had turned brown, and the hotel manager smelled as if he smoked five packs a day. But we had no choice. We couldn’t check into the nicer places we’d become used to. And with Michael’s billions no longer at our disposal, we had to ration our spending.
We had three adjoining rooms on the second floor. Doug and Curtis swept the hotel minutes after we’d checked into our rooms and found nothing to worry them. Doug looked rejuvenated, the grimace that had accompanied every step now gone. The news reports didn’t mention our names, but we waited. For anything. Whether or not they mentioned Michael would tell us a great deal.
The room wasn’t as bad as the reception area, but the sheets had a number of brown stains that someone had tried to get rid of, without much success. The TV was maybe thirty inches, and dust covered the screen. At least we all had a power shower, although the white bathroom floor looked like it had been covered in mud and then poorly cleaned.
After a quick shower, I dried myself and put on jeans and a white linen shirt—cheap clothes we’d bought at a department store on our way here. My red dress lay folded beside my bed. I would never wear it again, but I couldn’t get myself to get rid of it. For the short period I’d worn it, I felt like a real woman. It hadn’t been so long ago that I felt worn down by all the medications and treatments. All I wanted back then was to feel pretty and whole again, but now, so much had happened that none of that mattered anymore. I rested my head on the pillow and stared at the tiny drop of medicine I had left, sitting on the table. I hadn’t had a dose for almost twenty-four hours, and yet I had no violent shakes or vicious headaches. Please last another few days.
Dinner that night consisted of mashed potatoes and skinless chicken with what looked like homemade mint gravy. A thin girl who looked about sixteen delivered it to my door. I guessed she must have been the manager’s daughter. She had the same gaunt neck and wide nose. She smiled after I thanked her for the food, and I wished she hadn’t. Her yellow teeth were actually black around the edges.
I heard her knock on Curtis’ door after she left mine, and then Doug’s. They both entered my room with their food a few minutes after I heard the girl walk down the creaky stairs. They had both showered and looked good in their tight-fitting gray T-shirts and black pants. Curtis’ skin glowed again, his coiffed hair styled to perfection. Doug’s rough beard had been trimmed back to stubble. He sat on the narrow sofa to the right of the bed, while Curtis eased himself onto the chair beside the TV. Then we ate in silence. They both grimaced every time they placed food in their mouths. I laughed at them as I gorged on mine.
“It’s just food, guys,” I said.
“I’ll tell you what,” Doug said, “the sooner we find the master portal and get this over with, the better.”
“Found anything new in the journal?” Curtis said.
I frowned and leaned across the bed to grab the journal from the side table. I flipped to the last twenty pages. “I’ve gone over the plans again and again, but nothing.”
Curtis took it from me and flipped through the pages. “It seems to be all here.”
“Seems?” Doug said.
Curtis closed it and put it on the bed. “The Orchestrator will never leave every bit of information on probably the most important bit of machinery the world has ever seen in a book. It would be stupid.”
“So what do you think is missing?” I asked.
“Probably something small, but it won’t all be in there.”
“Any idea where it could be yet?” Doug said.
Curtis shrugged. “Maybe a facility like the one in Sacramento. … But then again, it could be anywhere. It could even be in the city, hidden somewhere in plain sight.”
Doug stood up. “But won’t the whole city know if they were using it? I mean, it must need some serious juice.”
“Perhaps,” Curtis said, “but technology can be used to insulate so many things these days. If not technology from this time, then from the future.”
I ruffled my hair and went to the window. “But if we start thinking about a normal location somewhere in the city, we’ll be back to square one. I mean, it could be absolutely anywhere. We’ll never find it. Finding the building is one thing. Then we have to find the secret section where they keep this thing.”
Doug nodded. “I guess we just have to find the building then, wherever it is.”
I walked around the room in silence for a moment and then grabbed the remote control. I turned the TV on and sat back down. On the news channel, they were talking about the death of a famous actor.
“How long do you think we have?” Doug said.
“Until what?” Curtis said.
“Until they find us.”
Curtis frowned at the ceiling. “They could find us tomorrow.”
I exchanged long glances with both of them.
“What?” Doug said. “What is it?”
“I just had the craziest thought. What if”—I saw a picture of Carrie Nicholas on the TV and stopped talking. I turned the volume up and crossed my legs.
“Carrie Nicholas is said to be devastated at the death of her close friend and supporter Michael Galloway,” the reporter said.
I gasped and reeled back. Doug and Curtis looked at me without speaking.
“Mr. Galloway was killed when a gunman opened fire during a party hosted at Mrs. Nicholas’ apartment. The assailant was arrested soon after. President Bishop, who was also at the event, has expressed his sorrow at the loss of a true friend and has sworn to do everything in his power to ensure that the man is punished to the full extent of the law.”
I stood and walked to the window. “He’s really dead.”
Doug moved toward me. “Of course he is. We all saw him die.”
I shook my head. “None of this makes sense.”
“You still think Michael has something to do with this?” Curtis said.
The news report said he was shot and yet, I saw him burn to death. Why would they lie about that? But maybe it was time to stop reading too much into everything. Maybe Michael was really dead? Maybe I just wanted to give the Orchestrator an identity, so I could make sense of everything. “I don’t know anymore. I guess him being the Orchestrator was the only thing that stuck in my mind.” I saw a head shot of a pretty dark-haired woman on the TV. It was Amelia.
“This woman is believed to have been the gunman’s accomplice. Armed police shot her dead at the scene, but they have not yet revealed her identity.”
“What is this?” I gasped. “They still haven’t mentioned our names, but they’re saying Amelia was a part of it.”
Doug and Curtis looked at me, confused.
“Who?” Doug said.
“The woman in Carrie’s room. The one Michael shot to save me.”
“Yes,” Curtis said. “Who was that, anyway? You never told us the whole story.”
I grimaced and faced the floor. Then I told them about how I’d met Amelia and everything that had happened when we went to 2108.
Curtis sat on the bed. “I wouldn’t put it past them to use her like that.”
I stared at the ceiling. “I guess I owe Michael my life. If he didn’t come in when he … Oh my God.” I stood up and placed my hands on my head.
They both sprang to their feet like they had been shocked by electricity. “What is it?”
“He knew her name,” I murmured.
They looked at me as if I were mad.
“Michael,” I said. “When he ran into the room, he shouted, ‘Amelia, no.’ But how could he have known her name? He’d never met her before. She was from 2043.”
They sat and stared at the walls. I joined them.
“You sure you didn’t mention her name over the earpiece?” Doug said.
I held my right hand up as if pledging to tell the truth in court. “I swear I didn’t. I just didn’t think about it at the time, becaus
e everything happened so fast. But I have no doubt he knew who she was.”
Curtis stood up. “Wow. This is huge.” He faced us. “He really could be the Orchestrator.”
“But they’ve just announced his death,” Doug said. “Why would they do that?”
“Maybe it’s time for him to go somewhere else, another time.” Curtis paused to clear his throat. “Or maybe they just want to get him out of here till they recover the journal. And what better way than to fake his death?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Doug said. “So you’re saying that everything was for show?” He faced the window. “Cause the explosion looked pretty real to me.”
I grimaced and pounded the bed. Doug was right. We saw them die. It wasn’t magic that some magician conjured up. It was very real. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. But whether Michael’s alive or not, he wasn’t completely honest with us.”
“But it doesn’t change the fact that we still need to find this building,” Curtis said.
I grunted in frustration and ruffled my hair. None of our theories was sticking. I sat on the bed and stared at the TV. An hour went by and we just sat there without speaking. I’d stopped noticing the sound of the TV long ago. I wanted to scream in frustration so many times, but stopped myself. What wasn’t I seeing? There must have been an obvious clue that was evading all of us. Maybe something in the journal or something we’d seen on our travels. But I wouldn’t be able to think objectively without first calming myself down. I’d smoked a few times in school but packed it in when I was sixteen, but I understood why people might want it at times of stress. I’d never been addicted, but I wouldn’t have said no to a cigarette at the moment. My thoughts on addiction drifted to Crixanipam and what Michael had said about his company’s working on it for a while. Where would that have been? I rushed to my feet, and Doug and Curtis sprang up.
“What’s the tallest building in L.A.?” I asked.
They returned blank stares.
“Come on, guys. Everyone knows this.”
Doug started to speak but stopped, as if in school and scared of giving the wrong answer. He spoke seconds later. “Glixima Tower?”
The Children Who Time Lost Page 40