Echo 8

by Sharon Lynn Fisher

  “You’re sure, Doc?”

  No! But the protest didn’t make it any farther than her head. The transfer could enable him to dislocate—it had only taken once for Mac—and they couldn’t afford to risk it.

  “I’m sorry, Jake.”

  “It’s your call,” he replied. “I’m just the walking weapon.”

  Jake released him, and Tess forced herself to look at the husk. It was hard to imagine it having once been alive.

  “God,” muttered Abby.

  “How did you know we were here?” Tess asked Jake.

  “I had no idea, sweetheart. I guess I just came back to the last place I was—that asshole’s bed. I didn’t know how to do anything else.”

  “Thank God for that. Thank you for coming after me.

  “Wouldn’t have done it for anyone but you. Makes me feel like I’m gonna puke.”

  “We have to do it one more time. I have to get back and help Ross.”

  “Right. Can you give me a lift?”

  “Where are you going?” asked Abby, brow creased with worry.

  “I can’t explain now. Ross is in trouble. But I promise I’ll be back.”

  “Please try to come back in one piece.”

  Tess reached out an arm to Jake, and he grasped it. “That ghost thing was brilliant, Jake. How did you find out about Adelaide?”

  Light swirled around his head as he gave her a blank look. “What ghost thing?”

  * * *

  Ross fought the merging of their bodies and minds as long as he could, but he and Mac were like magnets held apart by threads. Both men were tiring, and the threads snapped one by one as the magnets strove to assume their natural state.

  You’re a selfish bastard, aren’t you? Taking her away from Jake. Ditching the Bureau so she’ll feel obligated to stay with you.

  Round Two, psychological warfare. Ross curled his fingers around Mac’s throat. But he could feel the fingers digging into his own throat and was forced to ease his grip.

  You know it will never work. You’ll never give up control, and she’ll never be controlled.

  Ross growled and tried jamming his thumbs into Mac’s eye sockets. Mac shouted and writhed out from under Ross, pain boosting his strength. As he tried scrambling away, Ross tackled him again, locking his arm around Mac’s neck.

  How sad for you, when you inevitably drive her away. She’s all that you have left. But she’ll always have Jake.

  Ross froze, and Mac dug his fingers into Ross’s chest, coiling them around his heart.

  Mac had wormed around in Ross’s brain and found the thing that scared him most. Ross had won the fight of his life—the battle for Tess’s heart. What if it had been a mistake? What if he couldn’t make her happy?

  Was it possible for him to change?

  Anyone can give up control.

  These last words processed through his consciousness, and he realized they hadn’t come from Mac.

  Mac still groped around in Ross’s chest, experimenting, trying to inflict one-way damage. But something in Ross cried out from the depths, trying to tell him something important. He shut Mac out and listened for the new voice.

  Anyone can give up control. It’s a choice, not a fight.

  Meaning penetrated through fissures in Ross’s protective shield. It’s a choice, not a fight. How had he missed something so obvious?

  Ross had already made his choice. He chose Tess.

  He stopped fighting and stepped away from the cliff.

  Mac noted the slackening of Ross’s form. He uttered a cry of satisfaction, of triumph, over his opponent’s surrender.

  Ross let one hand fall to his side, resting the other against Mac’s back. He applied no pressure. Used the contact as a focal point only for release.

  Mac’s body tensed. Ross felt the rush and rumble of the energy transfer, like an airplane gaining speed on the runway. Mac panicked and tried to fight. Ross kept still, watching from a distance as the force of the transfer ripped Mac away from the tarmac.

  Ross filled his lungs with cool air and let his body root into the earth. This earth was not his own, but it recognized the life inside him and welcomed him. Ross stretched, fingers and toes tingling with energy.

  One of two hearts stopped beating.

  Ross opened his eyes and flung the dried-out husk away from him.

  “Ross?” Tess’s voice, trembling. Tess’s face, pale with fear.

  “Affirmative, Dr. Caufield.”

  Her lips curved up in a smile. She collapsed on top of him.

  * * *

  “It’s not good-bye, Jake.”

  He sighed. “So you say. But people come. People go. This place is like Grand Central Station. You just never know.”

  “I do know,” she replied, settling the back of her head into the solid warmth of Ross’s chest. “We’re going to tie up loose ends. Get the latest news. Do some planning with Abby. Next stop, Camp Electron.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I was too clever for myself with that one. It’s going to stick forever.”

  She grinned. “You know it.”

  “Be sure to contact the university, lass,” said Goff. “You may be able to get some help from the Koestler Unit. Because of their association with your Goff, I might be able to help you talk to them.”

  “I’ll most likely take you up on that, Professor. Thank you.”

  Eva stepped closer and held out her hand. Then in midair she dropped it, smiling instead. “I look forward to working with you. And getting to know you better. I always wanted a sister.”

  “So did I,” replied Tess.

  Jake and Eva exchanged a glance, and Eva turned and walked back toward the ruin. Jake’s eyes followed her.

  “I guess I can stop worrying about you,” said Tess. “You’re in far more capable hands than mine.”

  “I don’t know, Doc,” he replied, rubbing his beard. “I’m a little worried about that situation. I can’t mouth off to her like I do with you. She’ll kick my ass.”

  “I think an ass-kicking might do you good.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “I’m going to miss you, Jake.”

  “Hey, Strawberry Swirl,” he protested. “I thought we weren’t saying good-bye.”

  “You’re right,” she said with a nod. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Are you ready?” Ross asked, arms tightening around her middle.

  She glanced back down to the valley, dotted with tents and cooking fires. The orange light washing over the ruin made it almost look homey. Almost.

  “I’m ready.”

  Tess turned, wrapping her arms around Ross, and pointed her thoughts toward home. They plummeted into the void of space and time. The light-washed emptiness enfolded them.

  FOUNDATION

  * * *

  The Earth 2 Relief Foundation has leased Seattle’s historic Pacific Tower. The allegedly haunted landmark building, built in 1932 in the art deco style, boasts a diverse history of tenants. Formerly a U.S. Marine Corps hospital, it was also temporarily home to online retail giant Amazon.com.

  —“Seattle Landmark Building to House E2R,” The Seattle Times, January 1, 2019

  * * *

  Five months later

  TESS TAPPED on Ross’s door with her knuckles. “Hey, you.”

  He glanced up from a pile of paperwork, offering a weary smile. “Hey, yourself.”

  “We got another application for dislocation certification,” said Tess, handing him a manila envelope.

  Ross leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He looked like he hadn’t slept much last night. Well, she knew he hadn’t slept much. But that particular type of insomnia usually left him invigorated.

  “Of course we did,” he grumbled. “Everyone wants to be Doctor Who.”

  “I think that’s a time-travel thing, lover.”

  “Close enough. I thought I was hired to track down Echoes, not push paperwork.�
�

  “But you push it so well.”

  Ross fixed his eyes on her face, raising an eyebrow. Then he laughed out loud. “Don’t you have anything better to do than torment me?”

  “Nothing as fun.” She winked at him. “Want to see off the professor with me? He’s going home for good today.”

  “Sure,” he said, rising from his desk. “Anything to delay the inevitable. After that maybe we could…” He came close, whispering in her ear, “… go home for lunch.”

  “You’re insatiable. And incorrigible.”

  “It’s in my job description. Don’t you remember? You wrote it.”

  “Right. I forgot.”

  They walked two doors down to Professor Goff’s office, which was more decorated with paperwork than Ross’s. For the last three months he’d served as liaison between Earth 2 and the newly christened Camp Emily, keeping track of camp requirements and fulfillment. Two weeks ago he’d turned in his resignation, and a job description for his replacement.

  Ross’s brother, Jamie, met them in the hallway. “You sure you don’t want to make a thing of this? There’s still time to send out a press release.”

  Jamie was handling public relations for E2R.

  “I know Abby said any little bit of press helps,” said Tess. “But he wouldn’t like a public sendoff. He’d say it was too much fuss.”

  “All right, then, boss lady.” He smiled and headed down the hall.

  Tess knocked on Goff’s door, and he called them in.

  “Ready, Professor?” she asked.

  He gave his cluttered office a long, loving look.

  “Still time to change your mind,” said Ross.

  “I was never qualified for this job,” he said with a laugh. “All the to-ing and fro-ing … it wants someone younger.”

  “You know Koestler would be happy to have you,” Tess reminded him. “And Abby would poach you from us unapologetically. You’d be doing me a favor, really, as she’s still got me analyzing research data.”

  “I know, I know. But it’s time to go home.”

  “Okay, Professor.” Tess picked up his teapot from one corner of the desk and pressed it into his hands. “At least take this with you.”

  He frowned at the chipped, tea-stained vessel. “There’s no tea where I’m going.”

  Tess emptied a box of his favorite Welsh brew into her hand, slipping the bags in his coat pocket. “There is now. I’ll bring you more.”

  Goff gave her an affectionate smile. “You’ve a kind heart, lass. I hope the man never forgets how blessed he is.”

  “Not likely,” said Ross, “considering she reminds me on a daily basis.”

  Ross kissed her protesting mouth before she could make a sound.

  “Nice recovery,” she murmured.

  “Shall all three of us go?” asked Ross. “I’ve got some business on the other end.”

  Goff stepped closer, and they each put an arm around him.

  “Don’t think you’re getting rid of me,” she said, feeling the buzz of the energy transfer. She smoothed heavy, gray curls back from his forehead. “Jake tried to say good-bye to us five months ago, and we see him all the time.”

  “You send us some real Scottish shortbread and I’ll invite you for tea.”

  “It’s a deal, Professor.”

  * * *

  “I thought we could take a long lunch and run up to see the boat. What do you say?”

  Ross sighed and stretched back against the passenger seat of her car. “If you insist.”

  Despite repairs and rust removal, “the boat” still gave him the creeps. He couldn’t believe she had developed such a soft spot for it after everything that had happened there. But then she was a parapsychologist. It was also hard for him not to think about the fact Garcia had died there, which technically had been Ross’s fault.

  It was Garcia’s fault. The reminder came in Tess’s voice instead of his, since she’d had to say it at least a dozen times.

  But Ross was proud of her, so he kept his mouth shut. The high visibility of E2R had allowed Tess to fund-raise for the personal project. The boat was now home to a nonprofit counseling center for the homeless. The ladies lounge, now the Adelaide Room, had been set aside specifically for depression counseling.

  It was a gloriously cold and sunny January day, mercifully without wind. Tess wrapped a scarf around her neck and retrieved a bunch of roses from the backseat.

  They paused for a moment in the little park between the Space Needle Millennial Memorial and the refurbished ferry, squinting at the glare of sunshine on highly polished aluminum.

  “She’s…” Ross groped for something complimentary and finally settled for, “Mighty bright.”

  “Ugh,” he grunted as Tess whacked him lightly in the stomach with her bouquet. “Good thing those are thornless. More than I can say for you.”

  “You’re channeling a little Jake right now, sweetie.”

  “I figure that way maybe you’ll never leave me for him.”

  She flashed him a grin. “You can wait for me out here. I know how you feel about ghosts.”

  “What have I told you about the reverse psychology?”

  “I’m offering you an out! I’ll be gone five minutes. Then you can buy me lunch at Ray’s.”

  “Sounds more like a bribe to me. But you’re on.”

  * * *

  After more like fifteen minutes of chat with the depression counselor, Tess exited the boat and found Ross stretched on a sunny park bench. She watched herself approach in the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Starving.” She gave him a mischievous smile. “I know we’d be breaking our own rules, but do you want to dislocate to the restaurant? We haven’t done it, just the two of us, in ages. What do you say?”

  He rose and pressed his lips to her cheek. “Anything for my girl.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, and she reached into the void, catching at light with the tips of her fingers. Welcoming the familiar tickle and tug.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  There is something special about this book. Writers often talk about the “book of my heart,” and while I think every book an author manages to finish becomes a book of their heart, I understand the sentiment. At different times over the past decade I’ve felt more connected to a specific story or character. I think it’s a natural part of the writing cycle. But there is something about this book … even as an author I’m going to fail to put it into words. And I’m not alone—it’s been the darling of my beta readers for years.

  And that’s as good a place to start as any! Thank you to all you wonderful people who read this book at various stages and provided encouragement and feedback: Debbi Murray, Laurie Green, Melissa Alexander, MaryEllen DiGennaro, and Dominic Groves.

  Thank you to my fabulous agent, Robin Rue, who got how important this book was to me and helped me make it happen. Also to agent Beth Miller, who provided valuable feedback in the early stages. And finally to my Tor editor, Whitney Ross, who saw the glittery stuff beneath a bit of coal dust in that first version.

  Thank you to Tor for this beautiful cover: You really nailed it, guys. Thanks to Mark Gleave for cool parties, big laughs, and an additional sharp set of eyes. Thanks to Heather Massey for all you do for our genre. Thanks to my publicist, Leah Withers, and my editor’s assistant, Amy Stapp, also at Tor.

  Because I can’t seem to help putting lots of science-y bits in my books, I have to thank a few subject-matter experts as well:

  • Parapsychologist Dean Radin, author of Entangled Minds: Extrasensory Experiences in a Quantum Reality, which is a wonderful primer /history ofparapsychology and also discusses the potential connection between psi phenomena and quantum physics. I devoured this book. Twice. Dr. Radin was also kind enough to review technical points in my story.

  • Renowned physicist Brian Greene. I read interviews, watched YouTube talks, and read his book The Hidden Reality: Parallel Uni
verses and the Deep Laws of the Cosmos for my research on multiverses.

  • Bruce Rosenblum and Fred Kuttner, who wrote Quantum Enigma: Physics Encounters Consciousness, about the freakiness of quantum physics.

  • The Discovery Channel’s documentary Super Comet: After the Impact, which explores what life on Earth might be like in the days and months after a large comet impact.

  I also did a ton of research on the Seattle ferry boat Kalakala, of which I have become particularly fond in the course of writing this book. I found these two Web sites hugely helpful in understanding her history: http://www.evergreenfleet.com/kalakala-peralta.html and http://www.kalakala.org/. A big thank-you to attorney Kelly Wood, who had some personal experience with the boat’s legal woes, and who also provided some very much appreciated on-the-fly legal advice.

  I am sad to say it’s possible the ship will be no more by the time Echo 8 is released. At the time of this writing, she had been all but abandoned in a slip in Tacoma, taking on water, threatening to block passage on an important waterway. She had a grand adventure of a life, and more than her share of hard luck. On the bright side, she’ll most likely live on in some capacity. She’s assembled of valuable parts, which will be broken down and recycled, as are we all in the end.

  That brings me to thanking a person who would particularly enjoy a sentiment like that: Jason Knox. Thank you for kimchi quesadillas and Boddingtons, and for patience with the roller-coaster ride.

  Finally to Selah, thank you for your sweet notes, big hugs, and sense of humor. You are awesome. Never change.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  You can visit the haunted ferry by listening to “Kalakala: Songs from a Parallel Universe.” Original cello compositions by Serena Tideman, recorded (says the artist) “on the Kalakala ferry boat late one evening as it was moored in Lake Union and somewhat abandoned.”

  Listen and/or purchase at

  http://serendipitymusik.bandcamp.com/album/kalakala-songs-from-a-parallel-universe.