"And we'll go for a long walk," he confirmed.
*
Monica raced up the stairs as fast as she could on her ankle, ignoring the part of her brain telling her that unarmed people were supposed to run away from gunfire, not toward it. The staircase led to an open area.
"Oh my God." Monica froze. Bodies on the floor under an arc of blood on the wall. A man knelt on then floor of the elevator, laughing hysterically while another man aimed a rifle at him. The man on the floor turned his head to look at her. The one with the gun lowered the barrel of his rifle. He stared, surprise written plainly on his face.
"Oh my God," she said again. She looked at the man with the gun, trying to hold her voice steady in spite of the hole that seemed to be opening up in the bottom of her stomach. "The police are coming," she said in a voice that was a lot steadier than what she'd've thought she could come up with. The man with the gun smiled. An evil smile. He raised his weapon and Monica knew there was only one way to go. She leapt forward over the man on the floor, hands out, and got to him before he could aim, the pain in her ankle disappearing in the rush of adrenaline. He gave a little grunt, her momentum winning over his bulk. He tried to catch himself, caught one leg on the other, reeled back and slammed into a door behind him. The door moved an inch with the impact but didn't open. Her momentum sent her sprawling onto the carpet. She flipped and was crouched for another spring when she heard the small ding of the elevator that seemed strangely out of place among the carnage.
The man whipped around, the rifle at his hip. The elevator doors slid open on two smiling faces. Their eyes widened in horror as they surveyed the scene in the hall and the man pointing the gun at them. Justin pushed the woman to the floor. Justin?
"JUSTIN." But Monica's futile shout was lost in the blast. Monica flung herself at the gun but she missed by a second and an eternity. Justin's body slammed against the back of the elevator, punched by a red fist. Almost cut in half as his stomach seemed to explode. The woman, Sarah's mother? sprawled on the floor halfway out of the door. Her mouth opened and let out an unearthly scream that seemed to rise and surround them as if the walls were howling in pain. Monica slammed into the man with the gun but he swung around and tossed her off. She rolled over and turned back, ready to lunge. He glared at her. She was too far away. He started to swing his rifle around but stopped at the sounds of pounding steps on the stairs.
"POLICE," someone shouted from the floor below.
The man raised his face to the ceiling and let out a howl that actually drowned out Sarah's mother. With a last, angry glance at Monica he charged the man on the carpet, vaulting him at the last second. The toe of one foot caught the man on the shoulder and sent him sprawling back. He yanked Sarah's mother out of the way. The force actually lifted her and set her on her feet, reeling toward Monica. The last thing Monica saw of him was his smoldering eyes disappearing behind the closing doors as the policeman reached the top of the stairs. He surveyed the scene, his eyes stopping on Monica.
"Are you...YOU? Stay there," he barked, waving his hand for Monica to get down. He trained his weapon on the live one, all in black, cringing on the floor with an assault rifle next to him. He swung his head from side to side but there wasn't anyone else.
"Just stay here," Monica whispered to Sarah's mother. "You'll be fine." Fine? You'll find out you're pregnant. The father is dead. And you'll spend most of your life in an asylum. But other than that, fine. Monica passed a palm across her forehead. How could she leave her like this, to face all that. Well, what the hell else could she do? The die was cast. All that was left for her was to walk away. She gave Sarah's mother one last smile before breaking the grip of her hands.
"FREEZE YOU," the cop shouted at the one on the floor, who looked as if he had no idea what the cop was talking about. Maybe he didn't speak English. The cop gave his shoulder a shove with his foot, planted a foot on his back, stuck his gun back into his holster and put handcuffs on the man. He slowly raised himself and looked at Monica.
"And you..."
Monica stared back, still holding Sarah's mother. Still holding Sarah's mother? Why was she doing that? Everything she believed in. Everything she thought was right, told her to go. You can't intervene in the past. It's dangerous. No. It's worse than dangerous. Even small interventions could become catastrophic. All she could do was leave with as small an imprint on the past as possible. When the cop turned from the man in the handcuffs he should've been talking to empty air. But here she was.
Monica slowly walked Sarah's mother to the cop. He watched her curiously. She gently handed her over. After a second's hesitation he opened his arms and she collapsed into them.
"Take care of her," she said, and started to turn.
"Wait just..."
"And," she swung around and pointed a finger at him. He stepped back in surprise. "Go back home to Griff and your wife and take care of them. That's where you belong."
His mouth hung open. She stared meaningfully at him for several seconds, then leaned close. "I'll be watching." She turned and walked around the corner and down the hall. Just like that day leaving Hazel's. No one came after her.
8
Time Travel Protocol 8-28-2021* (Nevolutions):
A nevolution occurs when an incident of significant historical impact does not occur due to an intervention in the past by the chrononaut, resulting in a category 3 or above intervention. (Cross reference Protocol 4-7-2015-b).
*(Highly Confidential: Paper Copies Only)
The killer rode the elevator back down to the basement, smoldering. For weeks he'd imagined the room. The terrified faces over the barrel of his rifle. The instant when he pulled the trigger and released his power into the quaking, sniveling bodies, screaming for mercy. Looking into their terrified eyes and feeling their energy surging out of their bodies into his.
But no. First those two cowards. Shooting them in the back was nothing. In the back? You couldn't watch the life pass into eternity shooting someone in the back. He shouldn't've shot them. Should've let them go. Gone straight to the room. Shouldn't've given the people inside time to stack furniture in front of the door. And then that cringing idiot, slowing him down even more. And that woman? Who was she? They'd all conspired to snatch victory from his grasp. All but that skinny asshole who called himself the leader. The leader? He'd never had any intention of being with them. Had always intended to cut them off. But that hadn't mattered. Wouldn't've mattered, if the rest of them had gone down in the blaze of glory they should have.
But they hadn't. What was left? Walk out into the street and start shooting? Would it be the same? If they can turn and run? The elevator door opened and he walked down the hallway to the back door, the weight of the extra rounds feeling good in his pockets. He pushed through the door. The van...and a police car. A police car? The killer glanced around. No one. No cop. He walked to the police car. The door was open. Looked inside. Couldn't believe it.
*
Monica limped down the back stairs and into the lobby.
"Sarah?"
"It's too late, isn't it?"
"Oh Sarah." Monica took her hand and looked around. Police cars were screeching to a stop in front of the hotel. "We have to go."
Sarah looked up at her, her eyes fixed on a distance somewhere, didn't show any recognition at first, then filled with tears as she nodded.
Policemen streamed through the front door. Sarah followed Monica as they raced toward the back stairs. They were almost at the door when an ancient security guard appeared in front of them out of nowhere. He looked at the blood on Monica's clothes.
"You need to wait for the police." He grabbed her by the arm. Monica glanced around wildly. How long before someone would see them. She started to twist away when Sarah reached into a small back pocket of her skirt and pulled something out. She slapped the guard on the chest.
He looked at her in surprise, then down at the small black square on his chest. His
nose twitched and he dropped like a sack of flour.
"What was that?" Monica hissed as they pushed through the doors and headed down the stairs.
"Just a little something I thought might come in handy."
"What'll happen when they analyze it?"
"Relax." They got to the bottom of the stairs and pushed it open. "It'll look like a scratch and sniff that came out of a magazine."
"Scratch and sniff?"
"My aunt showed me one once. Gave me the idea."
They followed a maze of corridors to a door with a window showing light. Monica pushed the door open and they were in an alley. An ancient white van sprawled across it, doors open. A police car was backing down the street.
"He must be looking for a way into the hotel," Monica said. "I hope he doesn't see us and come back."
"I'll drive."
"Drive? This? We can't just steal it."
"They won't be needing it."
Monica looked at the van in horror. "You mean..."
"Close the back doors and get in. We don't have all day."
Monica glanced down the alley and the sight of the police car slowing convinced her. She ran to the back and slammed the doors. Sarah jumped into the driver's seat, grabbed the key in her fist and twisted. The motor coughed, sputtered, then roared to life with a plume of black smoke. Monica jumped back. "That's disgusting."
"You getting in?" Sarah's leg moved up and down and the thing responded with a roar and more plumes of black smoke.
"Are you sure you know how to do this?" Monica climbed reluctantly into the passenger seat and closed the door behind her. Sarah frowned at the controls. "This one's different," she muttered. She reached up and grabbed a big lever with a black knob at the end and pulled it down. "R for reverse, N for, what's N stand for? Neutral. D for drive," she muttered as the van gave a lurch and they rolled forward. She reached across her body and stuck her left hand out to Monica. Monica looked down then grabbed the cell phone.
"You were there?" Sarah said, eyes locked on the windshield. "You saw it?" Monica nodded.
"Then you saw him."
"Him?"
"My father. You saw him. What he looked like?"
Oh my God. If there's ever a time for that how could it be now?
They reached the end of the alley and Sarah looked both ways. "Well," she sighed. "I guess there'll be time for that when we get out of here. Right now we need to collect the dweeb and get back when the closed timeline curve opens up. Do you think he's around here somewhere?"
"Oh Sarah," Monica sighed.
"What?" Sarah's eyes narrowed. "What happened up there Monica?" She stared into Monica's eyes for what seemed a long time.
"Watch where you're going." Monica stuck her hands on the dash as Sarah whipped back on the right side of the road. "Justin," Monica said when they stopped at a light, "...won't be coming back."
"What?"
The honk of a car sent them lurching through the green light into the intersection.
"What happened?"
"Justin," Monica said slowly, "...was with your mother."
"Justin was with my mother," Sarah repeated. "The coordinates to the return spot are in there," she said quietly, nodding at the cell phone in Monica's hand as they came to a stop at the intersection. She looked both ways but didn't seem to see anything. "Justin was with my mother."
"I thought the only GPS was the one in the car. I thought the phone GPS wasn't accurate enough in two thousand twelve to support... Aaaah. What're you doing?" Monica grabbed for the dashboard. The phone flew from her hand, bounced off the windshield and clattered down the dashboard as the van tilted, narrowly missed a couple of parked cars, swerved into the oncoming lane, then finally made it back over the line down the middle of the road without hitting anything. Sarah reached out and snagged the phone just before it flew out of her window.
"Can't you be more careful Monica?" Sarah snapped. The distant look in her eyes'd disappeared and been replaced by something that sent a shiver down Monica's spine. "If we lose that phone we'll never find our way back. And we need to get back," she added. "We have things to do."
"Can't I be more careful?" Monica took the phone with one hand but kept the other pressed against the dashboard.
"It takes a few times to calibrate how much pressure to apply."
"A few times?" Monica stared nervously at the oncoming cars in the next lane as they whizzed past. They'd never seemed so close when she was in her self-driving car.
"I've got it now." Sarah glanced over and Monica saw a look in her eye that was frighteningly familiar.
"Keep your eyes on the road."
Sarah rolled her eyes and turned back toward the windshield to the blare of the horn. They swerved back into their lane.
"I thought you had it now."
"Just put the coordinates in," Sarah snapped. "I designed that phone myself. It's plenty accurate."
Monica looked down at the phone. "You designed it yourself? You mean..."
"If you think I was coming this far back without any real technology you're as crazy as Pruitt."
"But you can't..."
"The coordinates Monica." She glanced over. "It's a touch screen. Not voice activated."
"I know I know." Monica tapped the screen, shook her head. Hard. Like tapping a rock. Unbelievable the technology that people had to put up with back then. Must've had real pioneering spirit. "It looks like you take this road straight out of the city," she said after she finally got the thing going.
Sarah nodded. They drove through the city and the ride got smooth enough that Monica finally dared to stop wedging herself against the door. She lifted her hand from the dashboard and relaxed her arm. Traffic around them got lighter as the store fronts and apartments gave way to houses that gradually turned to fields.
"What are you going to do when we get back?" Monica finally ventured, trying to rub the soreness from her shoulder. She must've been jammed against the dashboard harder than she'd thought.
"I'm trying to decide whether to expose them then kill them or kill them and expose them. What do you think?"
"How can we expose them?" Monica's heart sank. "We didn't get the tape," she sighed, watching the city pass. "Not that we know what was on it anyway."
"So you vote for killing them? Pruitt should be happy. I'll kill him in the present so it won't affect the past. I can't do anything about my fa...Justin," she said through gritted teeth. "You can't meddle in the past from the present, unless..." her voice trailed off.
"Unless what? Sarah? What do you...Sarah," she said as Sarah turned and the gleam in her eye gave it away. "I know what you're thinking. You can't."
"Why can't I?" Sarah snapped. She turned her head and stared through the windshield in concentration.
"You just...it's just...it could be a nevolution... and you can't...That's all."
"Watch me," Sarah answered as she stomped on the gas and they teetered around a slow moving car. They'd reached the limits of the city and traffic was thinning. According to the GPS they had about a half hour of driving. If they lived that long.
Or not to be?
8
"AAAAAAAAEEEEE."
Monica flailed for a grip on something, anything, but the inside of the van was all rounded edges and flying metal. She managed to get an arm over her head just in time for a length of pipe to crack her elbow, "ow," instead of her skull. Across three feet of flying projectiles Sarah wrestled with the wheel and tried to duck her head at the same time.
"Ooooof." The front tires made impact and they bounced, teetered, bounced again. Monica flew out of the seat, her head banged the roof as the van careened through the dark. She reached out a hand and finally snatched somethiiiiiing.
The door latch. Monica felt herself flung out into the dark. The van and the dark whirled around her until she landed with a thud, the wind pounded out of her by the ground. She cringed, waiting for the tires to r
oll over her, but nothing. The van bounced and swerved out of sight, the roar of the engine and rush of wind subsiding into the dark quiet. Monica rolled over and pushed up to a sitting position. Her hands rested in something spongy, grass. Thank God for that. She looked over her shoulder. The van'd disappeared over a small rise. She heard a crash.
"SARAH." Monica pushed herself up, or she intended to. "WHAT...?" She turned. The headlights weren't twenty feet away, roaring at her like some huge, pouncing animal. They bounced once and Monica rolled to her left. The second bounce brought the car so close she could feel the hot air trying to suck her back under it but it roared past. Monica rolled to her stomach and watched it bouncing and swinging across the grass after the van. The rack of roof lights flashing red and blue made her stomach sink.
That cop. He'd followed them through the closed timeline curve. She lifted herself to her feet. Her ankle was sore but everything else seemed intact. The roar of both engines'd died away but there hadn't been a second...
The second crash was louder than the first.
"SARAH." Monica took a step and her heel sunk into the soft grass. She kicked off her shoes and took off on a limping run for the hilltop.
*
"MONICA," Sarah shouted as Monica disappeared out of the door of the bouncing van. "Damn." She fought the wheel, which seemed to have a life of its own, sending the van bouncing and swerving across the grass and over a slight rise toward...
"Trees." Who was she talking to? The trees loomed over the rise, the scenery vaguely familiar. She held onto the wheel just as the thought of the pedals on the floor rushed at her. The brake. She jammed her foot down.
The van leapt forward. Missed. The trees were suddenly right in front of the windshield racing at her. "Damn." She reached down and her hand found the door latch. She yanked it and threw herself out onto the grass.
Sarah hit the ground with a shoulder and rolled into the impact. The van raced past and into the trees. The crash filled the night air. It was the last thing Sarah heard before something, something hard, stopped her momentum and everything went dark.
Soul Source: Back and There Again Page 30