“He’s gone, and we have to stop the Unknowns. Then you can go home again and start a new life. We’re all going to have to,” I said.
“What about you?” She sat back, wiping her tears. “How did the school take it?”
“My job!” I’d forgotten to contact Jessica and the administration team after leaving my phone turned off the last few days. “I’d better send an email. Not that it’ll do any good at this point.”
Marcus had tried to remind me a day ago, but I’d been drowsy after a twelve-hour sleep. These pills were killing me. I left her to gather the kids; Dirk came over, picking Carson up in his arms.
I knocked on his door. “Marcus?”
The light turned on, and I heard his footsteps. “Rex?”
“Can I send an email from your laptop? I have to discuss my absenteeism with Jessica.”
Marcus’ room was messy, with clothes draped at the end of the bed, and various books about asteroids tossed onto the dresser. “Sure. Please run the scan when you’re done.” He passed me the computer, and I returned to my own room. It smelled sterile after all of the dressing changes to my wound. I sat at a walnut desk and went to work.
I logged in to the email server, knowing Marcus had enough firewalls to keep me secure.
Dear Jessica,
I apologize for not contacting you sooner. I was injured on vacation. Ended up going on a trip last minute during the holidays, was robbed at gunpoint, and subsequently shot. I had no access to email for a few days while they cared for me, so I hope this finds you well.
I do wish to retain my position, but the doctors have recommended I take it easy for a month or two, so I’ll be unable to teach for the near future. I understand if temporary measures have been implemented but know that I do really want to continue working for the college.
I may lose access, but please respond so we can set up a dialogue. I’ll forward the appropriate medical files for Human Resources soon.
Sincerely,
Rexford Walker
I stared at it for a few minutes, hating how formal and impersonal it sounded. I wasn’t sure what I had with Jessica, but it wasn’t a relationship. At least, not yet.
My thoughts drifted to Veronica… Ronnie Belvedere. Her recollection of the telescope had been touching, and I imagined the young girl learning her father was gone, and suddenly being pulled from our hometown with a new man in her mom’s life. No wonder she’d been as obsessed as me over finding them.
The email was stuffy, but I hit send instead of sulking over it for the next two hours, and closed the computer.
I lay on the bed, the starlight brightening my room through open blinds, and I let it cast over me.
We were leaving tomorrow. There were currently four huge Objects heading straight for Earth. Hunter had been precise about that, and the Bridge. I missed him. We’d only known each other for a short time, but he’d felt like a potential version of myself: not the wealth, but the passion for knowledge. Sadly, he’d died alone and cold, and I couldn’t let that be my future.
I’d forgotten to take my pills, but I felt better and sufficiently tired to sleep without their aid.
Two hours later, I woke to the sound of my door opening. I watched my father creep into my room with socked feet, and closed my eyes while he lingered beside my bed. I heard his breathing, and he muttered something under his breath before crouching.
I didn’t want him to tell I was awake, so I stayed as still as possible while he slid the Case from under the bed. I understood what he was doing the moment I heard the sack slide against the hardwood.
“Put it down,” I said softly, and opened my eyes to see him standing with the Case in his arms.
“I just wanted to touch it,” he said curtly. With his haircut and clean shave, he seemed even younger, almost the same age as me, but his eyes gave him away. They were darker than before, I was certain of it.
I grunted as I swung my legs from the bed, getting up to grab the Case from him. He relented and stepped back. “Dad, what were you going to do with it?”
“Nothing, son. I’ve spent so much of my life searching for these Tokens. I need to hold them again.”
“You’ve been in here before, haven’t you? At night.” I’d woken with the feeling Dirk had entered my room before, but had passed it off as dreams.
“You don’t understand,” he said, moving for the door.
“Try me, then,” I offered.
“It’s been eight years, Rex, and I come back to see my kids grown. The TVs and cell phones, and cars… I don’t know where I fit in anymore. But this…” He pointed at the Case. “This I understand.”
“You’re not well, Dad.” He flinched as I took a slow step toward him.
“I’m fine, Rex. Clayton is too. We’re only trying to acclimate to our surroundings. We expected to foster their help across the Bridge, and what we found was a wasteland.”
“Then we’ll locate this seventh Token… together. Father and son.” I smiled at him, but he just nodded.
“And we will return to Rimia.” The way he said the name sent shivers down my spine.
“Yes. That’s what we’ll do.”
Dirk opened the door and took one last peek at the Case before exiting without another word. Veronica was right about them. They were definitely off.
Instead of returning the black cube under the bed, I held it close, setting it beside me under the blankets. Something told me my father would have taken the Case and vanished if I hadn’t intervened. I needed to learn why.
2
“What I wouldn’t give for a private chartered jet again,” Marcus said as we entered the airport off the plane. We’d been cramped throughout the rear of the 737, only Tripp and I sitting together, but I was glad my dad and his partner hadn’t caused a scene.
The flight had gone by without complications, but my stomach was throbbing by the time we made it through customs and went toward the rental stations. Instead of everyone waiting for the bus to bring us to the car rental parking lot, Tripp set off alone, promising to swing back to gather us up in a half hour.
“You want to check your email, don’t you?” Marcus asked, and I shrugged.
“May as well get it over with.” I accepted the computer as we sat at a coffee shop near the baggage claim, and logged in to find a short reply from Jessica.
Rex,
I’m so sorry to hear that. Harry is filling in, but your students are asking after you. Shot? I can’t believe it. We’ll hold the job as best we can. Send the paperwork.
And call me. I need to hear your voice.
Jessica
I read it twice, grateful she was keeping my position. In the end, it probably wouldn’t matter, but clinging to the hope of returning to a normal life at some point was a necessary motivation. I closed the laptop, and Marcus slid it into his backpack.
“I found a rental,” Veronica said. “It’s a house in Montauk, only a short drive from East Hampton.”
“Good work.” I continued to search for Tripp through the windows.
“Apparently, it’s a ghost town there in January. Even found a good deal on it.”
“I thought Hunter left a lot of money. Why do we need a bargain?” Marcus asked.
“Didn’t your parents teach you to be frugal?” Veronica asked.
Marcus chuckled at that. “My parents thought frugal was normal. They make stingy look cheap.”
“Where have Dirk and Clayton gone to?” I asked, scouring the baggage area for them. Clayton was standing near the bag drop of the number seven station, watching the incoming luggage from a recent Miami flight. My dad was at the windows, staring at the snow falling outside.
“Maybe you’d better gather them up,” I suggested to Veronica. “We’ll be right there.”
I watched her tap her dad on the shoulder, and he turned slowly, uttering something I couldn’t hear.
“That is one weird dude.” Marcus tossed our garbage, and I received a text.
&
nbsp; “Tripp’s outside. Let’s go.” JFK was busy, and we wound our way through the tired travelers waiting for their bags, gathering my dad at the doors.
The horn from a navy blue minivan sounded, and we crossed the street, jumping in. “Veronica, I have a surprise for you,” Tripp said as she took the front seat.
“I don’t like surprises.”
“You’re going to like this one.” Tripp grinned at her. Dirk and Clay took the back of the van, with Marcus and me in the middle row, and the ex-SEAL drove without saying another word, pulling up to the car rental place. He shoved a set of keys at Veronica, along with some paperwork. “It’s the new Mercedes. Black. Stall seventeen.”
“What’s this for?” she asked.
“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” It was nice to see a glimpse of Marcus’ good humor return.
Tripp glanced at me. “We want to make sure we have a distraction for Hunter’s staff, don’t we? How about a rich socialite in need of assistance?”
Veronica lit up. She’d thrived on playing roles during our trips, and this was another chance for her to have some fun with it. She jingled the keys, which didn’t have the same impact with the electronic starter in her hand. “Rex, wanna ride with me?”
I glanced at Marcus, and he casually gave me a nod. “Sure.”
A few minutes later, we were sitting in the brand-new AMG GT Coupe, admiring the slick interior. Snow melted as it hit the pavement, and we drove from the airport, the traffic lessening the farther we were from the hectic location.
She focused on the road. “What do you think our odds are, Rex?”
“For what? Making it to Montauk in one piece?” I laughed, but stopped as she frowned.
“We’re breaking into a mansion. Stealing a dead man’s files. This would have been a lot easier if Hunter had left us access to all his secrets. Why didn’t he do that?”
“That’s a good question. Unfortunately, we’ll never know the answer.” Hunter had been secretive about a lot of things, but in his death, why hold anything back? “He would have assumed the Bridge led to our salvation, like he kept saying. If that was the case, we wouldn’t need whatever Hardy had in his files.”
“True.” The snow fell heavier, the temperature becoming colder as we headed east along the 27. “Do you trust them?”
“Who?” I had a good idea but wanted her to say it.
“Our dads. Clayton was staring at the luggage drop like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever witnessed.” She had every right to be concerned.
“I’ll press my dad for information. He’s keeping what really happened on Rimia from us, and I’m determined to figure it out. In the meantime, we need a seventh Token.”
“If there is one,” Veronica muttered.
“You think it’s a lie?”
“Could be,” she said. “Maybe they want to delay us. Why didn’t we try the Bridge again? Use it to bring ourselves to Rimia? Confirm the place was destroyed and devoid of anybody.”
I’d considered that, but between the shock of finding my father standing there and my injury, I hadn’t lobbied for it. I was confident there was a seventh Token we needed to uncover. “Are you kidding?”
“This is all getting out of hand, Rex. And the Objects. Four of them. It doesn’t seem real.”
Tripp was still in front of us, keeping his pace slow on the slick roads. I was relieved Veronica didn’t gun this car, passing our team. “I hear you. It feels like a nightmare I want to wake from.”
She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “All we wanted was to learn what happened to our dads, but now that we know, it’s almost worse.”
We drove on, debating the plan for Hunter’s mansion. Veronica chose an alias and decided she’d take on the persona of someone searching for a house in the East Hamptons.
“Clara Hawksly. I like it.” Her hair was still dyed brown, and it framed her face nicely. I caught myself staring at her as we went.
“See something you like?” she asked, and I turned away, rubbing a palm over my face.
“Sorry. I was thinking about Cal Harken’s house.”
“The part where Francois shot one of his own friends?” she asked, and I pictured the man from the BMW that had been following me sprawled out in a pool of his own blood.
“Now I am. I was referring to our kiss in the hallway.”
“That was a distraction kiss, Rex. And you could have asked for permission first,” she said lightly.
“There wasn’t much time for that.”
“Don’t get any ideas. I’m not sure a relationship is a good thing for either of us at this moment.” Veronica burst my bubble, but she wasn’t wrong.
“I have a knack for bad timing when it comes to romance,” I admitted.
“So do I.”
We drove on in an awkward silence, and I finally broke it as we neared the turnoff to Hunter’s house. We weren’t going there today, only driving past it, and I questioned Veronica further. “I think we can both agree this isn’t ideal. When was your last relationship?”
“A real one? Without the fake pretenses of a fling?” she asked.
“Sure. Have you been in love?” The question just blurted out, and she laughed, slowing the car as Tripp did the same ahead.
“Love. I’m positive what that means. You?”
“Not really. Nothing serious.”
“I’m shocked by that, Rex. A good-looking man, with all your education. Well-dressed, kind.” She paused.
“Keep going. I don’t think you’re finished yet,” I joked. “What about you? Veronica Jones, the world traveler and pilot of the rich and famous. I bet you’ve caught the eyes of many suitors.”
“I don’t mind catching their eyes; it’s the other parts that cause the problems. I try not to mix business with pleasure,” she said, diverting the question. “What’s Tripp doing?”
His signal was on, and he pulled into a gas station. The entire region was unusually quiet. Most people boarded up their homes for the winter season, and with the recent storm, the roads were empty. Lucky for us, the gas station lights were on, and Tripp drove right up to the front doors. Veronica parked beside him and turned the engine off. “Guess we’re making a pit stop.” She checked the GPS on her phone and told me we were twelve minutes from the house.
Snow settled on my forehead as I climbed from the luxury car, and Marcus stuck his head inside, checking out the interior. “What are we doing?” I asked him.
“Supplies. I checked, and there’s no store open in Montauk past nine,” he said. Clayton and Dirk were already inside, and Tripp was near them, going for the cooler.
The three of us stood in the glow of the fluorescent lights, and Veronica asked Marcus what they’d discussed on the drive.
“Nothing. Dirk and Clay were asleep. Tripp isn’t much for conversation. He complained about the crappy tires the rental place used on the van.” Marcus entered, and we followed, spending ten minutes scouring through the gas station, trying to acquire food to tide our group over until the next day.
My father dropped a current newspaper on the counter as the cashier rang the stuff through. The old guy was disinterested in us and looked ready to go home.
“You know that paper is on here, don’t you?” Marcus held his phone up.
“Call me old-fashioned,” Dirk mumbled.
A short time later, we were pulling into the rental Veronica had secured. It was a quaint Cape Cod-style bungalow, with cedar shingles and white trim along the windows. I could hear the ocean as we headed for the front door, and Veronica used the four-digit passcode on the electronic handle.
The home was frigid, and Marcus dashed off in search of a thermostat as we filed inside. It was a far cry from the places Hunter had set us up with, but it was nicer and more spacious than my own townhouse. We set the bags in the remodeled kitchen, and Dirk set to work, stoking a wood-burning fireplace in the living room. Clayton hung out at the patio doors, staring at the sky while his fri
end built the fire.
Veronica returned from the hallway, smiling at Tripp and me. “Looks like we have enough beds. They exaggerated slightly on the sleeping capacity, but if someone accepts the couch, we’re good.”
“I’ll take it,” Tripp said quickly, and leaned closer. “It has a good view of the door.” He glanced at the two men in the living room.
“Then it’s settled. Clay and Dirk can have the first guest room. You and Marcus use the other,” she said to me. “And I…”
“Get the master?” I asked.
“Exactly.” She helped Tripp with the food, which consisted of macaroni and cheese with a side of French fries. I was hungry, and both of them sounded good to me.
Eventually, we ate, crowding around a small round table, discussing the plan for tomorrow. Dirk and Clayton would be staying here while we went out. I didn’t like leaving them alone, but they promised not to go anywhere.
Marcus was already at work, determining what type of security system Hunter had installed. He was confident he’d be able to breach anything he encountered, and that was good enough for us. He always came through when needed, and I doubted he’d fail us.
Dirk and Clayton were the first to bed, and Veronica and Marcus went next. I stayed up, taking a pain killer, and joined Tripp outside on the back deck. He’d bought a cheap cigar at the gas station, and he lit it, puffing it to an orange glowing tip.
“Tomorrow could be dangerous,” he said.
“I know.” I stared at the cedars in the yard, blowing softly in the breeze. The snow had stopped, but the sky was covered with dense clouds.
“We aren’t armed,” he reminded me.
“We’ll be okay.”
“I hope so.”
“Tripp,” I whispered.
He sucked in and blew out a plume of smoke. “What?”
“We’re going to find the Token. I know you had a soft spot for Hunter Madison. We’ll do this. For him.”
“He wouldn’t wish for that. He’d want us to do it for everyone,” Tripp said.
We waited in our jackets, my hands jammed into my jeans pockets, and watched the heavens, as if expecting one of the Objects to arrive from above.
Lost Time (The Bridge Sequence Book Two) Page 3