I rub my wrist, wiping away the make-up. Trying to understand. But all I see is clean, clear skin. There’s no wound, no scar. My wrist is as smooth as the day I was born.
It’s only now that I look around properly, registering where I am. Our sink. Our room.
Our bed. And …
‘Mum?’ I only make it a couple of steps when I pull back and gasp, a hand pressed against my mouth. She’s here. One arm is draped across her face, the way she always sleeps.
A sob escapes from somewhere deep and I fall onto the bed, scrambling across the bedclothes.
She lifts her arm from her face and her eyelids flicker open for a moment before squinting closed again. ‘What is it, Coutlyn?’
Tears brim in my eyes as I sink into her, hooking my arms around her neck, burying my face in her hair, holding onto the truth of her. ‘You’re here. You’re really here.’
Wherever this is. Or whenever.
She’s holding me tight, returning the hug. Her head tilts towards me, half-smiling as if I’ve gone mad. ‘Of course, Coutlyn. I haven’t gone anywhere.’
Even before she speaks I know this; she’s been here this whole time. It’s me who’s been gone. It’s me who was lost. I pull away, transfixed by every detail. She’s thinner than I remember, her cheeks still sunken from a lifetime of sharing her rations with me.
I wipe my face. ‘What’s the date?’
She hitches herself up on one elbow and flicks on the bedside lamp. ‘Scout, it’s the middle of the night. I don’t know. Thursday, I think.’
As if that’s any help. But I can see her properly now. I cup her face in my hands, drinking her in.
The way I need to hold onto her reminds me of the way she held me the first time I showed her I could skip. If only I’d taught her how to do it too, she would have been able to escape the fire. She would have survived.
I pull back and run a hand over the back of my neck. My head hurts. It makes no sense, being here with Mum. Our room back the way it used to be. But there’s no denying the sensation that I’ve been here before.
I think back. I was lost in the tunnel and somehow I found a way out, but it’s not where I should have returned. It’s as if I’ve fallen into an old return, an earlier point in my timeline, and reconnected with the person I used to be. But I’m not exactly the same, now I have two sets of memories to sort through: one from here and another that’s fading, like a dream.
‘Sweetheart, are you all right?’ Mum reaches for my forehead. ‘Are you sick?’
‘Sort of … I threw up. But I’m okay now.’ I think.
Mum’s hand slides down to my cheek. ‘Are you hot? You had a nightshirt on when we went to bed …’
I glance down vaguely, and reach for a loose sheet at the end of the bed, tucking it under my arms like a strapless dress and tying it tight. I’m so used to being naked by now that I barely noticed.
‘Yeah, I must have been.’
‘Want me,’ Mum asks with a yawn, ‘to get you a pain block?’
‘No, I’m fine.’ Then I change my mind. Maybe that will distract her while I work this out. ‘Actually, do you mind?’
Mum’s slow to get out of bed, yawning first and stretching. She doesn’t even consider making me get it myself. I watch her stand and pad softly towards the cold cupboard. She’s here. She’s safe.
Kneeling on the bed, I grab my compad from the bedside table and sit back with my feet tucked under. The screen flickers to life and my spine tingles as I read the date: Thursday 15 September 2084.
So, I was right. And actually, I remember this night clearer than most.
It was my first-ever time skip.
My head feels light as I hack into the grid, my window into now. First I zoom out to check our street. Other than residents in their homes, no-one is on the street, no police. Alistair is in the next room, right where he’s meant to be. Kessa and her sister are in their tiny bedroom at the end of the street. I zoom out and find Mason in his room at home. Safe. He’s not masked from the grid anymore; it looks like he’s asleep in bed. Boc is a couple of blocks away; they’re both tagged with ‘???’. No warrants for arrest anywhere.
Amon and Echo are harder to find because they haven’t been tagged so I track across to the climbing centre over the past weeks and pick out Amon straightaway. That’s totally his climbing routine and, besides, he’s always partnering Boc. Now I trace him from the climbing centre to his home, to Echo and their parents.
Amon’s still here, alive.
They all are. I close my eyes with one hand pressed against my chest, and let it all sink in. My whole body feels light.
Every moment exists at once. It just depends where you are in the universe when you see it. Did Mason say something like that?
Except. My eyes open. He hasn’t said that yet. The blackout hasn’t happened. We haven’t spent the night together on his roof. Not yet. So far, none of it has gone wrong. Amon hasn’t been killed; none of us are tagged for arrest. The firestorm hasn’t happened.
Which means I have a chance to fix everything.
I press my eyes shut and think back. So many dots marked deceased. But when? I don’t even remember reading the exact date. All I know is it was a few months after I jumped.
Mum’s not quite so slow as she returns with the pain block.
‘Thanks, but …’ I drop the tube of gel on the bedside table. ‘I think I’m okay now.’ I shuffle back on the covers as Mum settles into bed. ‘Listen, Mum. There’s something you need to know.’ Right now she has no idea that time skipping is even possible.
She tucks her feet to one side and turns to check her compad. ‘Scout, it’s nearly two in the morning. What’s going on?’
It’s only when she mentions the time that I realise how deranged I must seem. High on adrenaline, throwing up in the sink, a blubbering mess. I have to be smart about this. I already know from last time how she’ll react when I show her a skip. Tears and panic. I thought I’d lost you. Don’t ever do that again …
There’s months before the firestorm. I’ll make sure she’s nowhere near. But what about other wildfires, after that? Floods? How many more dangers are lurking?
Even more important than saving her from this fire, I realise, is teaching her how to skip. Once she can do that she won’t need me to warn her about anything, she’ll be able to save herself.
‘I’ve got something to show you, okay? You have to see this.’ I slip backwards off the mattress and find a place on the floor, ready. ‘So it’s like a … a magic trick, okay?’ That’ll do, as a start. ‘I’ve been working on a magic trick.’
She hitches herself up higher. ‘In the middle of the night?’
‘Yeah. It’s really good.’ I untie the strapless-dress sheet, and hold it at shoulder height in front of me. ‘It’s a disappearing trick, right?’
‘Okay,’ she says slowly.
‘On the count of three.’ I throw the sheet over my head so that all she can see is my shape. ‘One, two …’ I call from underneath, ‘… three.’
I drop away easily. It’s a familiar place, skimming on the surface of time.
With a single breath I return, bursting into now and landing solidly on top of the sheet, aware that I’m a clear three seconds ahead from when I dropped away. Maybe my future has been stripped away, but the months of training are still with me.
Mum is sitting upright on the bed, her hand covering her mouth. ‘My goodness, Scout. How did you do that?’ She lets out a laugh.
‘I know, right?’
‘I thought they did that with mirrors or something.’
‘No, it’s um …’ I lift a hand, wondering how I’m going to explain this. ‘I’ve been working on it for ages.’
‘So, tell me.’ Mum shuffles around to face me, one leg tucked under the other. ‘How do you do it? That looked real, like you actually disappeared.’
‘Yeah. It’s hard to explain.’ My nightshirt is still on my side of the bed, so I pull it on to buy
some time.
The last time I showed her how time skipping works, she totally freaked out. But already it’s going better. One step at a time. I have to be sure she stays calm, relaxed about the idea of time skipping. If I do, she’ll have a chance of learning how to do it herself. I’ve already worked out that stress and worry are only going to make it harder.
‘Can I show you some other time? I’m working out a way to teach other people. Maybe I can test some ideas on you?’
‘Of course.’ Mum’s expression changes. ‘Is anything else going on?’ Maybe it’s not as bizarre as the truth, but a magic trick in the middle of the night is still borderline crazy.
‘No. Mum, I’m fine.’ I run a hand through my hair, suddenly tired. ‘I must still be hyped after yesterday is all.’
When my whole world came to an end.
‘Think you can sleep?’ She’s watching me closely now.
The familiar worry-creases have formed on her forehead, but then her face relaxes as I nod. She switches off the light, then flops an arm over her eyes again.
I snuggle into the sheets, knees to chest, holding onto the sound of her breath, the sense of her here, solid beside me. There’s no way I’m falling asleep. My heart is pounding. The world that once seemed wide and open suddenly seems fragile, the future broken so easily.
For ages I just lie in the dark, listening to Mum’s breathing deepen and slow. Images echo like dream fragments from another place, another time.
Your mum died, Scout.
Subject is unresponsive …
It’s like processing a nightmare. I’m safe, but my heart still races, the dream still clings to me, the desperate fight to escape. To survive.
I roll over and pull the chip from a drawer in the bedside table, checking that it’s still there. I promised the woman from the cave that I’d make the chip count for something. Here’s my second chance. But this time is different. Going to school hardly seems to matter anymore. I have to save the people I love. And if I can, I’ll find a way to save thousands I’ve never even met. I slip the chip back into the drawer and roll onto my side, going over the details I know about the firestorm in my mind, calculating how much time I have.
Eight months? Maybe less. Already I can feel the pull of the future, time dragging me forward: seconds ticking to minutes, minutes slipping into hours. Into days. Into weeks.
Until a whole life ends in a breath.
I don’t sleep much through the night. My dreams are a jumble of searching and hiding, drifting and being chased. It’s as if I’m picking through pieces of a shipwrecked world before returning to the surface for air. Every half an hour or so, I wake and check where I am.
I’m still alive. This is me.
As soon as Mum leaves for work, I send Mason a message. You okay? Can I come over?
He doesn’t reply, and when I check the grid I find that he’s gone to school. As if everything’s normal.
My hands drop from the keyboard. Until seeing that, I’d hoped that Mason might know what’s going on. We were jabbed with the same needle, after all. But if his timeline was tracking the same path as mine, he would have found a way to contact me by now.
I don’t like the idea, but I have a feeling Mason won’t remember any of it. Whatever happened to me hasn’t happened to him.
It gives me a flash of urgency. I’m the only one who knows about Amon’s accident, and everything it triggers. The wildfire that’s months from sweeping through. Not to mention the fluoro blue drug out there, somewhere, with our names on it.
The mesh across our window from 2089 isn’t there when I check, and there’s clear access down the narrow passage by the side of the house. Good. I set up an alert on my compad that will sound if anyone unusual comes down the front path. Like the Feds, or whoever it was with that glowing blue syringe. Now that I know what might be coming, I’m not leaving anything to chance.
I spend a couple of hours catching up on the news, retracing my steps on the grid over the past weeks even as I spin out at the way everything forwards from here has been swiped clean. It doesn’t take long to catch up. After all, I’ve been here before, done this already. I adjust our standing grocery order so that any food we don’t need is delivered in cans and vac packs that we can save. We’ll be able to dodge the fire, I’ll make sure of that, but half rations are more difficult to avoid.
I get a burst of energy when I realise that Mum’s birthday is in a few weeks. We don’t need to save up credits for a bribe – there’s no way I’m about to have the chip inserted in my wrist to trap me again – so I’ll be able to spend the credits that came with the woman’s chip on Mum. Maybe I really can make this her best birthday ever.
Late in the morning I get busy rewriting the blocking script we’ve been using to mask chips from the grid. It trips me out, rewriting code that’s not meant to exist yet. But it exists in my memory so it doesn’t take long. I’m mostly clear about the additions Mason made. Alistair’s were more complex and I struggle to remember them. But after some false starts I get it working okay. If the police are watching we might need it again. And if not, it might come in handy in other ways.
Maybe I can use it to deal with Boc.
A few minutes after the end of school, Mason replies and we agree to meet at a cafe near his house. He’s standing out the front when I arrive, his hands sunk deep in his pockets and his mouth in a straight line. A strand of hair has fallen over the curve of one cheek and there’s not even the hint of stubble on his jawline. I bite down on my lip, holding back a grin. We’re closer in age again.
Automatically I scan the area for CCTV cameras as I walk up, or anyone in a police uniform. When I’m a few steps from Mason, I grin and my arms lift to pull him into a hug. You’re here, and you’re safe.
But he turns his head, a wary kind of reluctance about him.
My arms drop and I do this awkward half-step back. Now that I’m seeing him again, it suddenly hits me how much we’ve lost. So much that we’ve been through together has been swiped clean. At least in terms of what Mason knows, it has. The night on the roof; practising snap jumps in the park. Even the moments of panic and sorrow – at least we’d been through them together. There’s a gap in our shared timeline now.
But I also know how that line will end.
Mason’s eyes narrow. ‘You all right?’ There’s concern about him, but awkwardness too.
‘Mh-huh.’ Head nodding fast, eyes blinking even faster. I swallow hard, trying to get a grip. A man in a black jacket strides past and for a moment my brain zaps into plans of escape, but then the man lifts an arm to greet a woman standing by herself and I realise he’s just some guy, not the Feds in their fatigues. Besides, the Feds aren’t after me in this world yet. I keep forgetting that. Too used to running and hiding.
‘Want to …’ Mason hesitates and then gestures inside. ‘Go in?’
He turns to walk inside but I grab his hand and yank. ‘Can we go back to your place instead?’
Mason eyeballs my hand, and I realise how this must look to him: a complete about-face, out of nowhere. From Mason’s point of view I’ve been avoiding him for weeks. Now I’m acting like we’re best friends. Or more.
I loosen my hold and his hand drops. ‘Sorry.’ This is weird. He still thinks I’m the woman who died in the cave, a seasoned time jumper. He doesn’t know I’m illegal.
He doesn’t know me.
A group of people in business suits walk past, laughing at something as Mason steps nearer, closing the distance between us. ‘We can go back to my place if you want. But why now? I mean, you’ve been avoiding me for weeks. What’s changed?’
‘Because I … I need to tell you what’s going on.’ There are so many things I have to say. But not where anyone might be listening. ‘And I can’t do it here.’
Mason’s eyes travel over my face. ‘I knew it,’ he breathes. ‘I knew something was going on … the insertion date on your chip, it doesn’t make sense.’
�
�Let me explain?’ I jerk my elbow towards his house, but I can already see it’s worked. His face is so open, so hungry for clues that I grab his hand again and start for the corner leading to his street.
He lets me this time, sneaking glances my way as I keep tugging so hard we break into a jog. It feels urgent. Part of me is still there, haunted by the echoes of that other world. But there’s excitement too, deep down and hidden. We’re both here, safe, together again.
‘Don’t freak out,’ I pant as we reach the corner. ‘It’ll be okay.’
Please. Let this time be okay.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HALF AN HOUR later we’re sitting on Mason’s couch, facing his comscreen. All the fake deets I added to the woman’s chip are on display. The make-up scar has been rubbed off my wrist, my skin an even tan. Before I move on to everything else, I’ve begun with who I am.
After Boc caught me out for being illegal, I always wished that I could wind back time, tell Mason the truth about the chip and make things right. But when the moment came this time, I hesitated. Not because I don’t trust Mason, of course I do. But I also know what will happen if the truth about my identity gets out. To Boc.
My worst nightmare was always getting caught. Now that nightmare has a name.
Mason’s leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees, scrolling through the details of the chip as if he’s finally reading a language that makes sense.
He’s serious, lost in thought, looking anywhere but my way. But he doesn’t seem dark on me the way he was last time. It counts for something, I think, that he didn’t have to hear it from someone else. I’m trusting him with a secret that could send me to jail.
‘So all that stuff about not being able to skip in front of anyone …’ Mason says slowly, still staring at the screen. ‘That was to cover the fact you didn’t know how? I thought it was because you were shy about returning … you know, without any clothes. But all this time you were –’
I shuffle forwards so that I’m on the edge of the couch. ‘Promise not to tell anyone?’
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