Echo 8

by Sharon Lynn Fisher

  “Black ops,” he said quietly. “Echoes kill without weapons.”

  Tess’s gaze jerked back to Garcia, the frozen gears in her brain finally spinning free.

  “We can send them anywhere,” said the director. “They can look just like us, or they can be almost invisible, as the situation requires. They are lethal, and we can train them to be precise.”

  “No collateral damage,” continued Ross.

  “Exactly. And what they do doesn’t look like a hit.”

  Ross straightened in his chair. “It’s not really our purview, is it? State-sponsored assassination.”

  “Historically, no,” replied Garcia. “It’s not precisely within our jurisdiction. The operation will be a cross-agency collaboration. But as the agency with the most experience dealing with Echoes, we’re taking the lead.”

  Her gaze moved between them, jaw frozen stupidly open. It was far beyond what she’d originally feared.

  “Why is it necessary to go around constitutional process?” she asked weakly, knowing it was pointless.

  Garcia folded his arms over his chest. “Some of them have proved too elusive for capture. With others, we’ve given up hope of ever procuring enough evidence for the desired outcome at trial.”

  “Doctor,” continued Garcia, “what we’re offering you is an opportunity to serve your country while doing the work you want to do. We’re giving you a chance to save Echoes.”

  She swallowed her rising panic. You’re the expert here. That’s why they’re consulting you.

  “What makes you think they’ll do it?” she asked. “They’re not killers. They’re no different from us.”

  Garcia raised an eyebrow. “They are killers, Doctor. And I’m not worried about their compliance.”

  Understanding clamped its jaws over her heart. “You don’t intend to give them a choice.”

  “Live or die. That’s a choice.”

  She took a measured breath and steadied herself. It was Garcia’s job to be forceful and confident. To bowl her over with his presence and authority. But a mouse chewing a corner of a flour sack could work a world of mischief.

  “There are holes in this scheme, Director. Deadly ones.”

  He gave her a thin smile that raised chill bumps on her arms. “Like how do we manage them in the field? What’s to stop them from running? From killing other people? It’s all I think about. And now it’s your job to think about it too.”

  Before the protest made it out of her mouth, Ross inserted, “Director, we’ve discovered the transfers have a dangerous side effect.”

  It squeezed her heart to think about how this revelation was going to affect Jake, but as much as she had grown to care for him, the situation had always been much bigger than a single Echo. For the moment she and Ross were on the same side again.

  “Oh?” replied Garcia, finally looking less like the man with all the answers.

  “Yes, sir.” Ross glanced at Tess.

  “Last night I dislocated to Jake’s Earth.”

  Garcia’s mouth opened, but he shook his head. “Explain.”

  Ross elaborated on the dislocation, omitting what had immediately preceded it.

  Garcia sat staring at the table for a full minute before replying. “That must have been terrifying, Doctor.”

  “It was.” Almost as terrifying as what’s going on in this room.

  “It’s a shocking development. One that bears further investigation.”

  She could feel the energy of Ross’s tension, stronger than when they’d first sat down.

  “We wouldn’t want to subject you to that again personally, Doctor. But…”

  She practically hovered in her seat, waiting for his next words, but when he continued he said, “Why don’t you look in on your subject, Doctor. I have a few things to discuss with Agent McGinnis. We’ll reconvene for lunch.”

  Surprised by the sudden dismissal, she studied him as she rose to her feet. Like Ross he was a master of blunted affect, but she didn’t think she was imagining the change to the light in his eyes.

  He’s already thinking about how he can use this.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Garcia said.

  Unequal to the task of returning a courteous reply, she simply turned to go. She felt Ross’s gaze on her back until the door closed between them.

  The brain gremlins returned as she walked toward the lab. She needed someone to talk to—someone she could trust. She needed Abby! She couldn’t help feeling her whole life had just changed over bagels and coffee. The director had been polite and professional—had expended energy to persuade her—but were they really giving her a choice? Or had choice exited the building at the use of words like “covert operation” and “national security”?

  And what about Jake and his choice? Her heart beat out ahead of her body as she neared the lab. He would be suffering by now, and dangerous to feed. But if she didn’t, they’d lose him. Despite what Garcia had said about sparing her, she didn’t want anyone else conducting energy transfers until she could learn more about the dislocations.

  She was relieved to see fresh faces in the corridor—agents who probably hadn’t had any orders from Ross to keep her away. Pulling her shoulders back and hardening her expression, she strode purposefully toward the lab door.

  As soon as one of the agents glanced up she said, “I’m Dr. Caufield. I’ll need you to stay alert while I interact with the subject.”

  Both agents straightened, but neither tried to stop her. She noticed the door had been crudely reinforced with bars fitted into hooks and brackets at the top and bottom.

  She pushed the intercom button. “I’m sorry, Jake.”

  He rose slowly from the cot, crossing the floor like it pained him.

  “I’m the one who should apologize,” he said, joining her at the glass. “I’m sorry about last time. I was trying to be a hero, but since then I’ve remembered that ‘selfish bastard’ is what I do best. I’m glad you’re back.”

  “Let’s take care of you. Then we’ll talk.”

  “Where’s your Fed?”

  “There are two agents with me in the hallway.” She held up her hand to the glass. “I know you were trying to scare me yesterday, but what you did took amazing control. You can do this.”

  Jake heaved a tired sigh, but he raised his hand.

  After a moment she frowned. “I don’t feel anything.”

  “That’s because I’m pinching the hose.”

  “That’s great, Jake. Now just let go a little. You need this transfer.”

  “You don’t have to tell me, Doc.”

  She moved her hand closer to the glass, letting the pads of her fingers touch. Slowly his hand flattened against the other side. Now she could feel it, like pinpricks all over her body.

  “You’ve made huge progress over the last twenty-four hours.”

  “I finally realized when it comes to pigheaded you’re in a whole different league.”

  She smiled.

  Don’t look so damn pleased with yourself.

  It took a moment to sink in that his mouth hadn’t moved.

  “Jake, did you just—?”

  Maybe we should keep it our little secret.

  Her gaze cut to the agent a couple feet away, but he was staring at the opposite wall.

  What’s going on, Doc? Feels like you’ve got about a hundred Super Balls bouncing around in your head.

  Her thoughts had quieted when the transfer began, but now she’d spun back up to full speed. She recognized the value of this moment. Ross and Garcia closeted together. New agents who didn’t answer to Ross. This might be her only chance. It might be Jake’s only chance.

  It was risky, to herself and potentially to others. But no more so than the Bureau’s back-alley agenda.

  We have to get out of here, she told him.

  His brow furrowed. “We” as in…?

  You and me. Things are changing. The FBI director is here. They want to turn you into an assassin, and they’
re going to force me to help them.

  Whoa, Doc. Are you sure about this?

  Yes. And we don’t have time to argue.

  Much as I’d love to go all Bonnie and Clyde with you, they’re not going to let us walk out of here. You know that.

  They will. All we have to do is get you out of this room. We have to stop the transfer now. We need you faded.

  What? Why?

  Theoretically you should be able to walk through this door. The second point of no return she’d crossed. Or third. She’d lost count.

  The drip of the energy transfer slowed. Come again?

  Bullets go through you. That suggests walls can too. You must be manipulating energy to interact with your surroundings. You’re doing it involuntarily. I’m betting you can voluntarily stop doing it.

  Doctor, I don’t know. But he gave the window a shove with the palm of his hand.

  Don’t think about pushing against it. Think about it not being there. For you, that door is nothing more than a habit.

  He closed his eyes, and she watched the rise and fall of his breathing. She pulled her hand away from the glass—and gasped as his hand followed it through.

  It had puzzled everyone on the task force that none of the confined Echoes had ever done this. She suspected it came down to being stuck in a certain way of thinking. They believed they needed to interact with a knob to open a door, so they did. She’d agreed with the others it would be irresponsible to ever raise the topic with one of their subjects. Until now.

  The rest of Jake followed his hand, and there was a shout and a gunshot. The bullet passed through Jake’s chest and punched through the door.

  “Come on!” she cried.

  She took off at a run, the heels of her shoes slapping against the hardwood, and assumed Jake was behind her. The shouts of the other agents would soon draw Ross and Garcia, so there was no more time for talk.

  She headed for the back exit, where they pushed past another startled agent. But the woman caught Tess’s arm and jerked her backward.

  “Jake!”

  He reached for the agent, just grazing her shoulder with his hand, but it was enough to stun her and shake loose her grip.

  Tess scrambled to her feet, and they sprinted down the sidewalk. She had no purse, no money … nothing but the clothes on her back. Luckily she lost her keys at least once a week, so there was a spare hidden under the fender.

  JAKE

  * * *

  “In THAT direction,” the Cat said, waving its right paw round, “lives a Hatter: and in THAT direction,” waving the other paw, “lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they’re both mad.”

  —Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

  * * *

  JAKE FOLDED himself into the passenger seat and closed the door, and Tess whipped out of the parking spot, tires wailing like a banshee.

  “I shouldn’t be driving,” she muttered.

  “I’ll second that,” he replied, grabbing the Oh Shit handle. “Just out of curiosity, why do you say so?”

  “I’ll explain later. Just be ready to catch the wheel.”

  “Right. Terrific.”

  Jake closed his eyes and pressed against the car door.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “This isn’t as easy as it looks.” He desperately needed to feed, and he was sitting less than a foot away from her in her ridiculous little hybrid. He shivered as her warm honey washed over him in waves.

  “Hang in there, Jake. We’re going to ditch the car soon.”

  He opened his eyes and focused his attention outside the window. “Well, fuck me.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “This is my neighborhood.” He craned his neck to glance back the way they’d come, and he let out a bark of laughter. “We were in my building the whole time.”

  “Your building?”

  “I live here. I mean on my Earth, I lived here. The building was a museum on the bottom, and affordable housing above.”

  She shot him a questioning look before accelerating onto the ramp for I-90. “You’re sure about that?”

  “Looks exactly the same, except for the grounds.”

  “It’s hardly the first overlap we’ve found with your world, but wow. We thought … Ross thought you showed up here because I’m on the task force. Something seems to be drawing you to us.”

  “I don’t know about all that, but ‘drawn to you’ is an understatement.”

  Jake leaned against the headrest and sighed. Hard as it was to be in the car with her, he couldn’t deny he felt happier—and more alive—than he remembered feeling in a very long time. And there was no small amount of satisfaction in the fact Tess had chosen him over Ross.

  I really am a selfish bastard.

  The Fed was a protector by nature. He was good for Tess—even Jake could see it. Her childhood had been sadly devoid of protectors. But Ross didn’t really understand her. Jake did. They’d both lost something so dear to them they walked around half-empty. And when Jake was with Tess—despite the insanity into which he’d materialized—he forgot about the emptiness.

  “So we’re running away together,” he said. “Very romantic. Where are we going?”

  She cast him an anxious look. “I don’t know. I have no money, no ID, a quarter charge left on the car, and we need someplace to stay where an occasionally psychic FBI agent won’t find us.”

  Jake grinned. “You’re an epicenter for chaos, aren’t you?”

  A laugh burst from her lips, and she flashed him a smile—a smile made infinitely more interesting by the fact he could see tears in her eyes.

  “Don’t tell anyone, okay? I’ve got them all fooled into thinking I’m very studious and professional.”

  “No, no, you should put it on your business cards. ‘Tess Caufield—Specialist in Dimensional Travelers, Epicenter for Chaos.’”

  She laughed again, and a tear spilled onto her cheek. She flicked it away with her thumb.

  Jake’s smile faded. His mouth went dry. He felt a tug at his heart, and another at his groin. “I want to swallow you whole.”

  “Maybe later. Now be quiet. I need to think.”

  She thinks I’m joking.

  Tess had been flying down I-90, and now she veered right onto I-5 north, toward downtown Seattle. Another wave of warm honey blasted over him, and he dug his fingers into his leg. Jake knew his body would already be curled around hers, heedless of the car careening into the concrete divider, but for his subconscious compulsively chanting: You’ll kill her.

  “This is a bad idea,” he groaned. “I can’t be this close to you.”

  “I’m sorry, Jake. I’m going to find someplace to park and then we’ll take care of you.”

  “Until then you better talk to me or something bad is going to happen.”

  “Why don’t you tell me something about your life? All I know about you is your profession—smartass moonlighting as a musician.”

  “That’s really essentially it.”

  “Oh come on.”

  He sat glaring through the windshield. The little silver car zipped alongside the downtown corridor. There was something strange about the buildings—they were all crowned with some kind of dark, lumpy matter, like they were wearing wigs. Jake took a closer look at one mass hovering close to the elevated highway and discovered the lumpiness was organic—a rooftop garden.

  As they passed the Mercer Street exit Jake scanned for the city’s most recognizable landmark. The morning was bright and clear, sunlight glinting across Lake Union, yet he couldn’t find the six-hundred-foot structure.

  “Where’s the Space Needle?”

  Tess’s eyes darted to his face and then back to the road. “It was damaged in the Millennium explosion at Seattle Center, at the end of the New Year’s Eve fireworks show. The city had to take it down. They salvaged the saucer section, though. You can see it there at the south end of the lake.” She nodded to the window. “They turned it into a muse
um and memorial, for the people who died. What about your Space Needle?”

  “I guess it made it eighteen years longer than yours did.”

  Jake closed his eyes, thinking. Trying not to think. He wondered about the “overlap” she’d referred to earlier.

  “Doctor, how alike are our Earths? I mean, is there another Jake Parker around here somewhere?”

  She shook her head. “We don’t really know. From Echo interviews we do know our Earths were very similar. The geography, the political and social structures, the level of technological advancement—none of these were different enough that Echoes have found any difficulty blending in here. Both Earths had a United States, for example, and a European Union. But we have a different president. That’s a significant difference, and we have to assume even small differences would have huge ripple effects. But as improbable as a high percentage of matchup may seem, several multiverse theories allow for a whole range of other Earths, from identical to unrecognizable.”

  “Your city looks almost like mine. You live in the same building I do.”

  She acknowledged this with a sideways nod. “Exactly. But like I said, there’s a lot we don’t know. One multiverse theory suggests a distinct universe exists for every possible outcome in a given situation. With an infinite number of variations, anything is possible. It could very well be that the close similarity between our worlds is allowing the dislocations from your Earth. And it’s a safe bet this isn’t the only other Earth where Echoes are popping up.”

  The skin on the back of Jake’s neck pricked, and a feather of hope tickled his stomach.

  “Jake,” said Tess, hesitation in her voice. “Can I ask something about your death?”

  He fidgeted in his seat, repositioning his long legs in the short space. “Maybe.”

  “We know that at least three of the other Echoes died just prior to impact. Two killed themselves over fear of the impending catastrophe, and one was likely killed in an unrelated accident. I think there may be some connection between you ending your life and ending up here. Possibly the asteroid impact temporarily interfered with a process for reintegrating your energy into your own universe.”