Time Search

by Danele J Rotharmel

  Nicole nestled close. “Will you teach me that handy thumb trick?”

  “Absolutely. But I plan on sticking so close that you’ll never need to use it. I’ll be happy to tackle all the Richards in the world for you.” Looking at his watch, he sighed. “I’m afraid I have to go back to work.”

  Nicole grinned. “You don’t count protecting me as work?”

  Smiling, he kissed the tip of her nose. “I call it pure pleasure.”

  ~*~

  Turning his back on Crystal, Marc stomped over to his desk. As he sat down in front of his computer, his thoughts whirled and raged.

  Who does that mouse of a girl think she is anyway? She’s spent four years ignoring me. Now, she’s bashed my head, yelled at me, and made me apologize. And to top it off, she says I’m not her type. What’s her problem? Most girls are glad when I look their way.

  Glaring at the data on his screen, he ignored the sound of Crystal picking up the butcher paper. Normally, he would’ve offered to help, but he figured she could jolly well lift it herself.

  She was right when she said I had zero interest in her romantically.

  Across the room, Crystal began whistling “Zip-A-Dee-Do-Dah.” Marc’s scowl faded slowly away as he remembered her pink-painted toenails waving in front of the window. His glower disappeared completely when he recalled the way her eyes had snapped fire when she yanked his beard. As he ran a thoughtful hand over his whiskers, his grin returned.

  Well, maybe I have a little bit of interest in her romantically.

  Looking over his shoulder, he watched as she unrolled her butcher paper. His lips twitched as she glanced his way. Rather than smiling like most girls he knew, Crystal rolled her eyes. He fought a desire to chuckle, and the last of his anger evaporated.

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway.

  “Hello,” Crystal said as Zeke walked in the door. “Have a good time with Nicole?”

  Zeke smiled. “It was a very satisfying lunch.”

  Crystal pointed at her paper. “Is it OK if I tape this to the wall?”

  “Sure thing,” Zeke replied, sitting at his desk. “You can even tape it to the floor, if you like. I’ll make sure the grunting Neanderthal doesn’t step on it.”

  Marc laughed, his good humor restored. “Grunting Neanderthal? Are you two gonna start ganging up on me?”

  “Only when you deserve it,” Zeke replied blandly.

  Crystal tore a long section of butcher paper from the roll. Looking across the room at him, she asked, “Can you help me tape this to the wall, or are you still sulking?”

  Marc’s lips twitched.

  She really is an expert at reading people, isn’t she? I’m gonna have to remember that.

  “I’ll help,” he said, rising to his feet. “I don’t stay mad long, and I have to admit that I deserved what I got. You’re gonna be pretty good at keeping me in my place, aren’t you?”

  “It won’t do you any harm,” she said. “You need a woman in your life who doesn’t swoon every time you flex a muscle.” Crystal took a roll of duct tape from her purse. “Grab that corner, will you?”

  Nodding, he helped her move the paper and watched as she pulled a strip of tape from the roll. He felt his insides quivering with laughter as she balanced the roll of tape on top of her head to free her hands.

  “You know, Cris,” he said, as she taped the paper to the wall. “We’ll make great partners.”

  “We will as long as you avoid making fun of me and flirting with me,” she said, pulling another strip of tape off the roll.

  “I think I can manage it.”

  She grimaced. “It may be harder than you think. I do some awfully silly things. You might have a hard time keeping your laughter in check.”

  Smiling, he said softly, “I don’t think keeping a straight face will be my biggest challenge as far as your two rules are concerned.”

  Crystal’s eyes flew to his face and narrowed. After a moment, she laughed. “You don’t even realize when you’re flirting, do you? It’s like some kind of knee-jerk reflex.”

  Marc blinked. He felt his face blush.

  Crystal’s smile grew. “Now that I know flirting is just an uncontrollable part of your character, I’ll try not to take it personally. But you’d better watch out—a girl with less common sense might start believing you were interested in her, and you’d be in the soup.”

  Unable to come up with a suitable reply, Marc strolled back to his desk and watched as she turned the strip of paper into a large chart divided into four sections: Current Drake, Young Drake, Drake’s Girlfriend, and Drake’s Hometown.

  Marc quirked an eyebrow as she took a dart from her purse and tossed it at the chart. It landed in the section marked Drake’s Girlfriend. Walking over, Crystal began writing every bit of information that she knew about Drake’s old girlfriend.

  Turning back to his computer, he grinned. Crystal definitely had her own oddball way of doing things. Working closely with her was going to be interesting to say the least.

  ~*~

  As agents combed the hospital floor by floor, Ruthford led a team down to the locked subbasement of the east wing. He pushed aside ghostly sheets of plastic, watching as they moved in a breeze from overhead vents. Everything seemed quiet, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. He shoved his imaginings aside as the smell of drywall dust made him want to sneeze.

  Pausing, he listened to the chatter on his earpiece. A blue Chevy Pavana with the license plate number GFB-6482 had been located in the hospital parking lot. Drake was in the building.

  Looking down, Ruthford saw a bloody footprint. He froze. The blood trail led to a closed door. He motioned for his team. Adrenaline screamed through his veins as the locked door was opened and his team surged into the room.

  Inside, a man was lying in a pool of blood. “Nurse Warner,” the man whispered through parched, dry lips. “He’s going after Katie Warner. Fourth floor. Hurry!”

  ~*~

  Sitting at his desk, Zeke scanned through Drake’s financial information, hoping to find a connection to Drake’s former life. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Crystal capping an orange marker and tossing it aside.

  “This is pathetic,” she exclaimed with a huff.

  “What’s wrong?” Zeke asked in a distracted voice as he continued reading.

  “I need more information. That’s what’s wrong.” she growled. “There are too many holes in our data.”

  “I know,” Zeke murmured, scrolling down his computer screen. “But it’s all we have.”

  “Well, it’s not enough,” she huffed. “If we want to find Drake’s real name, we need more information. Are you listening to me?”

  Turning around, Zeke gave her his full attention. “Go on.”

  She motioned toward her chart. “Take the information about Drake’s ex-girlfriend. We know one of our time counselors told her to breakup with him—but that’s all we know. It isn’t enough.”

  “We can check the files, and—”

  “Sheesh. Are you serious?” Crossing the room, Crystal shoved a printout in his hands. “Since TEMCO was established, our time surfers have counseled 4,896 individuals. Of those, 2,014 were girls. That means we need to go through 2,014 files in an attempt to find a connection with Drake. Time’s against us. We need answers before Drake steals a Wave Trapper and goes backward through time. We need to narrow our search parameters, and we need to do it fast.”

  Zeke rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I understand, but I don’t know how to acquire more data.”

  “I do,” she said, pushing at her owlish glasses. “Drake loves playing mind games. When he held Peter and Laura captive, he probably told them clues to his identity—clues they didn’t recognize. I’ll bet he’s relishing the fact that he’s told us everything we need to know to uncover his identity, but we’re too stupid to put the pieces together. We need to talk to Peter and Laura, and we need to do it fast. We can’t waste another second.”


  Zeke stood. “Marc, what do you think?”

  Marc studied Crystal’s chart. “The holes in our information are obvious. At the rate we’re going, we’ll never be ready to follow Drake into the past. We won’t know where he’s headed or who he’s planning on contacting.” He stroked his beard. “Cris is right. We need more data.”

  “What about Drake’s phone records?” Zeke asked. “Have they yielded any results?”

  “None,” Marc replied. “I’ve hit a dead-end.”

  Crystal twirled her ponytail into a bun and pinned it in place with a red marker. Her whole body shouted her impatience. “We need to contact Peter and Laura.”

  “Do you think it’s safe?” Marc asked.

  She nodded. “Currently, no one has the capability to trace where a Wave Trapper makes contact.” Her brow furrowed. “Actually, that’s something we need to address. But for now, as long as no one is in the room, it’ll be safe to make contact.”

  Zeke knew she was right. Nodding, he pulled the Wave Trapper from his pocket. “Marc, check the hall and make sure it’s empty. Cris, get ready to take notes. Let’s do this.”

  ~*~

  Sauntering casually down the hospital corridor, Drake turned a corner. Once he was out of the red-haired nurse’s sight, he tossed his flowers aside and picked up his pace. Fingering the knife in his pocket, he opened the door of the linen closet. A nurse in blue scrubs was bending over a pile of sheets.

  Stepping inside, he cleared his throat. “Nurse Katie Warner?”

  Katie looked up. “Yes. May I help you?”

  Drake pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “I was told to see you about…” Chuckling, he squinted at the scrap of paper. “Why do doctors have such horrible handwriting? I can’t quite decipher this…”

  He held the paper out to her.

  Smiling, Katie stepped close. “I think they’re required to take a course on messy handwriting in medical—”

  Grabbing her, Drake spun her around, pinning her body against his chest. Clamping his hand over her mouth, he pulled the door shut.

  He smiled, sensing her fear. “I just need a bit of friendly information,” he said. “And it’ll be much easier if you cooperate.”

  Katie began to struggle, clawing at his hands and kicking at his legs.

  Drake felt a rush of anger. Pulling out his knife, he pressed it to her throat. “Be still,” he hissed. “If you keep fighting, I’ll slit you from ear to ear.”

  When she continued struggling, he allowed his knife to cut her neck. “My next slice will go deep,” he spat. “I told you to be still. Obey me.”

  Katie stopped fighting and seemed to cower.

  “That’s better,” he growled. “Last week, you attended a woman named Phoebe Reynolds. She was a patient of Dr. Ember’s. Nod, if you remember.”

  Katie hesitated, but when he pressed his knife harder against her throat, she nodded.

  “Good,” he purred. “See how easy this is? On her final night in the hospital, Phoebe was in her room after Dr. Ember left. You were with her.”

  Katie nodded again.

  “At some point, Phoebe disappeared, and you know where she went.” Drake smiled. “I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth so you can tell me what I need to know, but I want you to understand one thing—I will carve you up if you try to scream. Do you understand?”

  Katie gave a little nod. Her terror was obvious. He relished it.

  “Good,” he murmured, lowering his hand. “Where did Phoebe go?”

  Katie licked her lips. “I don’t know. I left the room to get the—”

  Drake shoved his knife firmly against her neck, allowing it to draw more blood. Her words died away in a strangled gasp.

  “See what you’ve gone and done? Lying makes me angry. Tell me where Phoebe went before I lose my temper completely.”

  Suddenly, Drake heard footsteps running down the hall. Clamping his hand over Katie’s mouth, he hissed, “Be still.”

  Katie sank her teeth into his hand and wrenched her head away. Hearing her drawing a breath in order to scream, Drake slashed his knife across her throat and threw her to the floor. As she lay on the white tiles gurgling and gasping, he wiped his bloody hands on a sheet.

  “Next time you should listen when someone tells you to behave,” he spat.

  Stepping out of the closet, he closed the door and walked calmly down the stairs.

  10

  Marc studied the empty hallway. His heart was pounding in his throat. He couldn’t believe he was going to see a Wave Trapper in action.

  “All clear?” Zeke asked, holding the translucent, golden pyramid in his palm.

  “Clear,” Marc replied, shutting and locking the door.

  Crystal nudged him gently aside, taping some butcher paper over the window in the door. “That should do it,” she said.

  Marc nodded, caught by the apple-blossom scent of her hair. Pulling his thoughts together, he looked at Zeke. “What’s next?” he asked.

  “Next, we establish contact,” Zeke replied, pressing some buttons on the bottom of the Trapper. Suddenly, the sides of the pyramid split apart and transformed into something resembling a lotus flower.

  “Wow,” Marc murmured, drawing near. “That’s pretty impressive.”

  Crystal pushed at her glasses. “Non vidimus quicquam set tu.”

  “Latin?” Marc quirked an eyebrow. “Translation, please.”

  Crystal grinned. “Roughly interpreted, ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet.’”

  As Marc laughed, Zeke set the Wave Trapper in the doorway of the classroom’s supply closet. Instantly, wispy fingers of foggy light streamed up from the center of the lotus flower. With a burst of iridescent color, the light spread into a sparkling grid that filled the doorway.

  Marc whistled. “Normally, I’d give you problems for talking Latin, Cris. But English simply doesn’t cut…”

  The rest of his sentence faded into an incomprehensible murmur as the grid sections began filling with blue light.

  “How far back in time did Poppa send our leaders?” Marc asked, trying not to miss a single moment.

  “About .0000000000001 seconds,” Crystal replied. “They’re essentially in our temporal plain. If you were standing next to them, you wouldn’t realize the time difference.”

  Marc blinked. “That’s… That’s….”

  “Genius?” Crystal laughed and curtsied. “Thank you.”

  Marc’s mouth fell open. He knew Crystal was smart, but he hadn’t realized just how smart. “You came up with the idea?” he asked.

  “Well, Poppa and I did—with a little help from Dan. It’s always been theorized that Wave Trappers could be used for more than just time travel. I just tweaked the…” Her words trailed away as a flash indicated that the blue light was congealing into an established temporal portal.

  ~*~

  Inside Poppa’s safe house in Montana, Sam Ableman was kneeling on the floor beside his wife, Sue. They were playing peekaboo with their grandson, but from the smell of things, playtime was over—Jay was in need of assistance.

  Sam groaned. “How about we use rock-paper-scissors to determine who has to do this dirty deed? I have a feeling this diaper’s gonna be a doozy.”

  “What makes you say that? The noxious, odiferous cloud?” Laughing, Sue stuck out her fist.

  When his wife’s “paper” covered his “rock,” Sam groaned again. “Best two out of three?”

  “Man up,” Sue said, handing him some wipes. “A little bit of baby poop never hurt anyone.”

  Suddenly, there was a burst of light. A rolling blue wave filled the doorway. Sam jumped to his feet. Panic grabbed him by the throat. With thoughts of Drake clawing his mind, he snatched his grandson from the floor and put him into his wife’s arms.

  “Sue, get out of here!” he said frantically. “Go get Dan.”

  Sue looked agonized. Sam knew she didn’t want to leave him alone.

  Another light bu
rst filled the room. He only had seconds before the temporal portal was established.

  Jay started to wail. Sue held the baby close.

  “Sue, please,” he said.

  Sue looked tortured. Kissing his cheek, she whispered, “Stay safe.”

  Turning, she ran from the room with their grandson held in her arms.

  Grabbing a heavy candlestick from the fireplace mantel, Sam sprinted toward the congealing timewave. Standing to one side, he waited. Whoever was on the other side of the temporal portal couldn’t see him, and he planned on clobbering the first person who came through. Drake wasn’t getting near his family if he could help it.

  ~*~

  “Nurse Warner, where is she?” Agent Ruthford demanded.

  Startled, the red-haired nurse blinked at him. “What? Why?”

  Ruthford flashed his badge. “Where is she?”

  “Down the hall in the linen closet by the bathroom. Is something wrong?”

  Without bothering to answer, Ruthford sprinted back down the hall with his team. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a flash of red hair. The frizzy-haired nurse was following them. Without wasting a moment, he swung open the linen closet’s door. A nurse in blue scrubs was writhing on the floor clutching her throat with both hands. Ruthford bit back an expletive and motioned for his agents to check the exits.

  “Katie!” the frizzy-haired nurse screamed, trying to push past him.

  Grabbing the nurse’s arm, Ruthford said firmly, “Go get a doctor!”

  As the nurse scuttled away, Ruthford knelt beside Katie. Blood was oozing from between her fingers in a thick crimson wave. Her eyes looked up at him, wide and panicked. Grabbing a sheet, he pressed it to her slashed neck. “We’ll get you help. I promise. Hang in there.”

  Looking over his shoulder, Ruthford shouted, “Where’s that doctor?”

  ~*~

  Another burst of light filled the air. Crystal watched as the cloudy blue wave cleared, signifying that the temporal portal was established. A living room with a fireplace came into view, but the room was empty. Her eyes narrowed. She was sure she heard breathing in the background.