Ellie sags against me, and I have to grip her around her back to keep her from falling to the ground.
“Ellie?” I say.
No response.
I move her head a few inches and see that her eyes are shut and her face slack. I press my fingers against her neck and check her pulse. Not as strong as I would like, but at least she has one.
I carry her to a nearby bench and lay her down. “Ellie?” I say, rubbing her hand. “Can you hear me?”
I’m so focused on her that a female voice makes me jerk in surprise. “Is she all right?”
I glance over my shoulder and see a woman with a toddler propped on her hip looking at us, concerned.
“I don’t know.”
“Is she sick?”
I nod.
“You want me to call an ambulance?”
That’s exactly what needs to happen, I realize. “Please.”
Others gather around as we wait for the ambulance, a few asking questions.
“Who is she?”
“My sister.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s sick.”
“What is it? The flu?”
I pretend I don’t hear the question.
After a few moments, another person asks, “How old is she?”
I almost say fifteen, but that’s how old she was when she died. “Almost fourteen,” I tell them.
Ellie is still unconscious when two fire trucks and an ambulance pull up at the edge of the park. Several uniformed men hurry across the grass, two in front carrying plastic cases, and two trailing with something to transport Ellie.
“If we could get everyone to stand back, that would be a big help,” the first man to arrive says.
The crowd pulls back but doesn’t disperse.
The man crouches down next to me and puts his hand on Ellie’s wrist. On his sleeve is a patch that reads SAN DIEGO FIRE RESCUE.
This, more than anything, confirms we really made it.
“Sir, can you tell me what happened?” he asks.
“We were out for a walk and she collapsed,” I say.
“Any reason why that might have happened?”
“She’s been sick.”
“What kind of sick?”
“I…I…” I’m not sure how to respond. I think the disease that killed her is called cancer here, but I’d rather a doctor figure that out.
“It’s okay,” the man says. “Is she a friend?”
“My sister.”
“What’s her name?”
“Ellie.”
The man leans closer to her. “Ellie, can you hear me?” When she doesn’t move, he says, “Just hang tight. You’re doing fine. We’re going to check you out and get you some help.”
Another uniformed man puts a hand on my shoulder. “Sir, I need you to back away so we can get her on the gurney.”
“Oh, sure.”
I watch from several feet away as they work on her before moving her onto the bed. Once she’s secure, the man who asked me to move says, “Have you contacted your parents?”
I shake my head. I haven’t figured out how to handle that issue yet.
“You can tell them she’ll be at Scripps Mercy. I assume you’ll want to go with us?”
“Yes. Please.”
__________
AT THE HOSPITAL, others join us as Ellie is wheeled inside. They get information from the firemen and begin examining her as we move through a hallway and into a room full of medical equipment.
It’s not long before I’m asked to step out. My instinct is to refuse, but I know I’ll only be in the way so I relocate to the hallway.
A woman dressed all in blue comes out after about thirty minutes. “You’re the brother?”
“Yes.”
“Are your parents on the way?”
“Our mother’s been dead for a while. And our father…just passed.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” She pauses long enough for me to believe she means it. “You’re the guardian, then?”
“Guardian?”
“You’re over eighteen?”
“Yes.”
“Are you the one in charge of your sister? Or is there another adult?”
Now I get it. “No other adult.”
“Okay. There’s some paperwork you’ll need to—”
Paperwork is out of the question. “How is she?”
“Still unconscious but stable. The EMT said you mentioned she was sick. Do you know what she has?”
After stumbling on the question when the fireman—EMT?—asked me, I thought of an answer on the way to the hospital. “I’m not sure. I know it’s not good.” I frown. “I haven’t been home for a while. Our father was taking care of her until…”
“He didn’t tell you what she has?”
“He and I didn’t really talk much.”
She studies me for a moment, a tinge of suspicion entering her eyes. “Can you at least tell me who her doctor is?”
“I can find out.”
“That would be helpful,” she says. “There’s a waiting room down the hall. Why don’t you go down there? Someone will come in a few minutes with the forms we need you to fill out.”
“Okay,” I say.
When I reach the waiting room, though, I pass right through it and follow the signs to the exit. As much as I want to stay with my sister, my presence here will only cause problems. I’ll figure out how to check on her later. For now, she’ll get the help she needs.
I almost expect to see Iffy sitting in Marilyn’s Prius at the curb, waiting for me. But neither Iffy nor the car is there.
Using the money I kept in my satchel for when I returned, I take a bus to her neighborhood. It’s nearing two p.m. when I finally turn onto her block. The first thing I notice as I approach her house is that the Prius is gone.
Maybe she did go to find me and we crossed paths. Or maybe she has no idea I’ve returned and headed back to Los Angeles, thinking my story about the end of her world was a lunatic’s fantasy.
I decide to check anyway.
A woman who has to be Iffy’s mother answers the door. The eyes, the nose, the cheeks—they’re the same as her daughter’s. It’s only their mouths that are different. Iffy has fuller lips that always seem one step away from a sly smile. Her mother’s are thin and cut a flat line below her nose.
“Yes?” the woman asks.
“Is Iffy around?”
“You just missed her. She left about fifteen minutes ago.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“I have no idea. Somewhere with her friend, I guess.”
“Friend?”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “I didn’t get your name.”
“I’m Denny.”
“Oh, you’re Denny,” she says as she reassesses me. “Hold on.”
She disappears inside, and returns a few seconds later with a slip of paper. “Her friend said to give you this. Said you’d know what it means.”
I take the paper from her. On it is written a time, four p.m., and a location number—a Chaser location number. I feel my skin go cold as I realize the handwriting matches that of the note Lidia gave me for the 1702 meeting.
I think back to the field as everyone was popping out to return to the institute, and realize I didn’t actually see Lidia leave.
The suspicion in her eyes—did she know I was lying and follow me somehow?
“They’ll be back at some point,” Iffy’s mom says. “I’d invite you in but I’m leaving to run errands soon, so…”
“It’s okay. I’ll find them.” I try to look as relaxed as possible, but that’s the last thing I feel.
As soon as she closes the door, I run down the street until I reach a small strip of land next to the road that’s been turned into a mini-park. A man is playing with his dog at the other end but the rest of the area is empty. I sit on a bench that faces the road and pull out my Chaser.
When I push the power button, nothin
g happens. It takes four more tries before the screen reluctantly comes to life. I bring up the location calculator and enter the number Lidia left for me. A map appears, pinpointing the spot. Unfortunately it’s a map of my old world, so I can see the spot is right on the beach but I can’t tell how it relates to this reality.
Making my best guess at the coordinates, I try to make the jump but the power shuts off again.
I swear under my breath, then jog over to the man with the dog. “Do you know the time?”
At the sound of my voice, the dog begins to run toward me.
“Jasper, come,” the man says.
The dog halts between us, its eyes on me.
When the man repeats, “Come,” Jasper returns to him. The owner then looks at his watch. “It’s 3:05.”
“Thanks.”
I have less than sixty minutes.
I don’t know what Lidia’s plans are, but I can guess.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
MY PLAN IS to catch a bus, but when I find one of the stops and ask a woman waiting there if I’m in the right place, she laughs.
“The only place this bus’ll take you is north,” she says. “You need to go west. To do that from here, you’ll have to go south first, then transfer to the one going to the beach. Not sure of the number.”
“How long do you think that will take?” I ask.
“Depends on how quickly the bus arrives. Maybe forty minutes. Could be an hour.”
An hour? I need to find a different way. “Thank you,” I say, and move off.
Half a block away, I see some people sitting in the patio area of a restaurant. I run up to the wooden railing that separates the patio from the parking area and yell, “I’m sorry to bother you, but can any of you give me a ride to the beach?”
Several people look over and then just as quickly return to their drinks.
“Please. It’s an emergency.”
A guy sitting at a table about ten feet away looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “The beach is an emergency?”
“I have to meet someone there at four. It’s…”
As the man laughs, I realize no one here is going to help me.
I run down the street and spot a large parking area in front of a big store with a sign reading HOME DEPOT. There’s a lot of traffic going in and out.
I concentrate on those walking back to their vehicles. The first person I ask looks at me as if I were crazy and hurries off before I can even offer what cash I have. Three more people react the same way.
Why won’t anyone help me?
I whirl around, looking for my next target.
“Please,” I say to a couple of guys who aren’t much older than I am. “Are you headed to the beach? I need a ride.”
“Get lost,” one of them says.
I’m about to turn away when the other guy says, “Which beach?”
“Straight west of here.” I don’t know what it’s called, but that’s where the point on the map was.
“PB?” he asks.
“Maybe. I’m not from here.”
“Come on, Jerry. Let’s get out of here,” the first one says.
The other one—Jerry—still looks at me. “We can get you most of the way there. You’ll have to ride in the back of the truck, though.”
“I’m fine with that. Thank you.”
His friend looks upset, and they fall into a whispered conversation as I follow them to their vehicle. Then Jerry nods at the open rear cargo area of a vehicle and says, “Get in.”
I pull my cash out of my pocket. “Here. It’s all I’ve got. Fifteen dollars. For your trouble.”
“Keep it,” Jerry says. “We’re going that way anyway.”
I sit with my back against the passenger cabin, sharing space with several boards, some round cans with thin metal handles, and a cloth tarp.
As the two guys deposit their bags next to the boards, Jerry says, “You’ll have to lie down. If the police catch you back there, we’re both going to be in trouble.”
“No problem,” I say.
I stretch out as best I can as they climb into the cab, and then we’re on our way.
The vehicle seems to be in a constant state of agitation, and I feel every bump. Turns are another problem. If I don’t brace my arm against the side, I’ll slide around, something I learned quickly when my shoulder smacks into one of the cans.
All I can see are the tops of buildings and blue sky, but nothing can keep away the feeling that I’ll be too late.
I don’t know how Lidia got her hands on Iffy, but there’s no question about why she took her.
To control me. And it’s working.
The truck has stopped so many times that I don’t even notice anymore, so I’m surprised when I hear one of the doors open.
Jerry peeks into the back. “This is as close as we can get you.” He points to the left. “That way three blocks and you’ll be there.”
I hop to my feet. “Thank you so much.”
My satchel bounces against my hip as I move to the edge. Before I climb out, I grab one of the coins I have inside and hand it to him. “Take this, at least. It’s not much, but—”
“What is this?” he asks, turning it around.
I jump onto the street. “Eighteenth-century Spanish dollar.”
“Are you serious?”
I nod. “Thank you again.”
Before he can say anything more, I run off in the direction he pointed.
__________
I DON’T STOP until I reach the walkway at the landside edge of the beach. The location Lidia left for me can’t be far. I look around, hoping something will stand out, but to the south there is only sand and more sand.
The view north is not quite the same. A couple hundred yards away, a pier sticks out into the ocean. Could that be it?
“Excuse me,” I say to a man heading down the path. “Can you tell me the time?”
He pulls a phone out and looks at the screen. “A few minutes until four.”
As he starts to put it back, I say, “How many exactly?”
“Um, six.”
“Thank you.”
Six minutes. Whether it’s the pier or not, that’s the direction I run in.
As the path nears the pier, it jogs to the right and slopes upward between two buildings. But I’m not paying attention to either structure. My eyes are locked on the arched entrance to the pier ahead. That’s why I don’t notice Lidia race out from in front of the building on the left until she throws an arm around me and jerks me to a stop.
“Hello, Denny,” she says.
Before I can get a word out, the world disappears and we’re surrounded by the familiar gray mist. This lasts barely two seconds before we’re on firm ground again.
Wherever we are, it’s night, and given that nothing hurts, I know we haven’t gone far in time. Probably only a few hours back to the previous evening.
I widen my eyes to help them adjust, but with only stars and no other lights around, it’s taking some time for me to focus. The crashing waves tell me we’re still near the ocean but the ground is not sand, nor is it concrete like the path I was on. Grass, I think, or something similar.
Lidia removes her arm and yanks my satchel off me.
“Hey!” I say, twisting around and trying to grab it back. “That’s mine.”
“Shut up. You speak only if I ask you a question.”
“Where are we? Where’s Iffy?”
I see her hand a split second before it smacks into the side of my face.
“I told you to shut up!”
My cheek stings but I refrain from rubbing it. “And I asked you where Iffy is.”
I brace myself, ready to grab her arm if she tries to hit me again, but she doesn’t. Instead, I hear the flap of my satchel open, then Lidia saying, “Huh. Well, that explains it. I was wondering why you didn’t jump to where I was. You’re out of power. Which means you’ve been doing a lot of hopping around.”
I lunge at h
er, grabbing for the bag, but she whips it out of the way as she turns sideways. Unfortunately for her, this puts her rib cage in the direct path of my forearm. I ram it into her, and she stumbles backwards with a loud grunt.
I realize too late I should have kept going and completely subdued her, but thinking that way doesn’t come naturally to me.
Lidia, on the other hand, doesn’t have that problem. As soon as she steadies herself, she kicks me squarely in the stomach. Doubling over, I trip on something and land hard.
My hip aches, and I’m pretty sure I’ve scraped a chunk of skin off my arm, but I ignore the pain. I roll onto my side and tuck into a ball in case she lashes out again.
“Get up!” she orders.
I don’t move.
“I said, get up!”
Her foot slams into the small of my back, shooting a whole new blaze of pain through me.
“On your feet, dammit!”
I don’t want to feel her shoe a third time, so I gingerly move into a sitting position. As I put my hands down to push myself up, one of them hits the thing I tripped on. My Chaser. It must have dropped out of Lidia’s hand when I hit her.
“Hurry up,” she says.
I start to pick up the device as I stand, but she steps forward and knocks it away.
She then wraps a hand around my neck, and I feel a knife press against the skin just below my ear. “Where are the others?”
“The others?”
“Bernard and everyone who were with us. Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
She tightens her grip and I start to choke. “Don’t lie to me! You said you knew when the break occurred and you fixed it. But you never fixed it, did you?”
“I…can’t…breathe.”
She stares at me, eyes bulging for another few seconds before easing her grip enough for me to suck in air again.
“Where are they?” she asks again.
“They went home.”
“You’re lying. You obviously never changed the world back. Where are they?”
I keep my mouth shut.
The metal tip pushes into my skin just enough to break the surface. “I know you know what’s going on. I could see you were lying when we all met. That’s why I only jumped into the woods. I wanted to see what you were going to do. When I saw that you waited to be last, I knew I was right. What happened to them?”
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