A Grave Tree
Page 28
Then Caleb turned to Mark. Despite Caleb’s growth over the past two days, Mark probably outweighed Caleb by several pounds. There was no way Caleb could boost Mark. “I can pull myself up,” Caleb said. “Can you?”
Mark shook his head mutely. Caleb looked back up at the platform and over at the cracked diversion.
“I’m going to go,” he said. “If you hang on to the cable and help a bit, maybe the three of us can pull you up.” A tone of doubt rang through Caleb’s voice, and Mark tried not to panic.
Caleb ascended the cable handily, his muscled arms flexing as he hauled himself up the wall. Mark grabbed the dangling cable and curled both hands around it as tightly as possible. Then he closed his eyes. Warrior Mark would be able to do this, but he wasn’t Warrior Mark yet—although he was much closer than he had ever been.
The diversion exploded in a fissuring of cement and rubble. The water catapulted over the drop. The cable pulled taut in Mark’s hands as the raft started to move toward the edge.
“Jump off the raft!” Caleb yelled. “Now!”
Mark swallowed the well of bile that had risen in his throat and leapt from the raft. He swung like a pendulum, his toes dragging through the dark, diminishing water. It was much like he had imagined a rope swing would feel, except then he hit the hard wall of the platform, sending blinding pain shooting through his elbow and hip. He let out a howl of agony, and he nearly dropped the cable, but clenched his teeth and clung on.
He could feel the fumbling attempts of the others to pull him up as he hit the wall again and again. His brain felt fractured with pain and fear, but inch by inch he rose, until he was able to grasp the lower rail of the platform and roll his body onto the safe, flat cement, where he lay breathing in shallow gasps.
*****
Abbey’s eyes swept the platform as Mark lay recovering. Russell the panther was gone. A small dark shape scurried toward them. A rat? Digby? He almost reached them before veering off and running around the corner. Abbey shook her head. Was she seeing things?
The pressure of holding the raft together had drained her. She was exhausted, but now that the raft was gone, at least her head felt clear again.
In the absence of a wall holding it back, the water in the reservoir had almost vanished, exposing the intakes beneath the platform. They emitted a low, unearthly whine as they clawed for the now unavailable water. If anyone was in the building, they would probably soon come to investigate.
Digby reappeared, scampering over to them and then off again. Was he trying to get them to follow him?
After removing the magnet from the railing and placing it in its case, using the cable and Caleb’s electromagnetic energy—Abbey didn’t even want to think of what that might be doing to his heart—Caleb bunched up the cable and looped it over his shoulder.
Digby returned a third time. “I think Digby wants us to follow him,” Abbey said in a low voice.
“He’s a rat,” Sylvain said. “For all we know, he’s injured and is running around blind.”
Abbey shook her head at Sylvain to shush him. To her surprise, the older man complied, his face falling into a sort of sulk, lines of fatigue marking his eyes.
She prodded Mark with her foot. “Mark, we have to go now.” Mark had been a surprising superhero on the raft, and she prayed he wasn’t going to have a breakdown now. She wanted to lie down on the platform too. They probably all did. But they had to keep going.
Mark rolled over with a groan and rose slowly to his feet.
Digby now waited by the building, standing on his hind legs. Abbey glanced at the walkway that led around the building; it would take them to the ground and potentially to safety, if Caleb’s people weren’t standing guard below. What havoc had the sudden appearance of a panther wrought on them? More importantly, why did Digby want them to go that way? Was there a door into the building on that side? Could she trust a rat? Oddly, she felt some sort of connection with the little beast, like she could communicate with Digby in a way that she had not been able to with Russell.
Save Jake, March 9, 2013. The words clamored in her head.
Digby hadn’t budged from his post. Abbey headed in the direction of the rat. Once she got within a few feet of him, Digby ran off again, leading her around a corner of the building to an open air duct a few centimeters off the ground. The rat stopped in front of it, then entered and ran a few feet into the darkness. Abbey looked at the duct. It was a little over half a meter by half a meter in size. They could all fit, although it would be pretty tight for Caleb and Mark.
“Are you sure?” she said to the rat. Yes, Digby’s whiskers seemed to quiver.
She could feel Caleb, Sylvain, and Mark standing behind her.
“No,” Mark said simply. “No.”
“Maybe we should take our chances with the fur people,” Sylvain said.
“We’re harboring a known fugitive,” Abbey said. “And we can’t leave Jake. If the turbines are no longer running, Sandy might not need Jake anymore, which means her incentive for keeping him alive is low.”
Sylvain sighed. “Mark and I will go around through the door and try to create a distraction. You and Caleb crawl through the air duct. We’d better hope the air duct actually leads where you need it to.”
Caleb nodded. “Is that gun any use? What did it do on the raft?”
Abbey grimaced. Did she really believe the gun had done anything? Mrs. Forrester had drawn leaves. Did that mean “believe”? Did she believe? Did she have to believe? If she didn’t believe, would this reality and their escape all come crashing down on them?
She exhaled. “Although it’s theoretically unlikely and borderline impossible, I think it shoots special electromagnetic radiation on the EM setting, and antimatter on the AM setting. That’s why we have the magnet. Magnets can hold antimatter in place and potentially allow for the use of the burst of energy that antimatter can produce. Rotating fields of electromagnetism have the potential to reduce mass and therefore the effects of gravity. It was believed it could allow for space travel.”
Caleb furrowed his brow. “So, useful if we want to try to fly or need a burst of energy. Not so useful if we need to shoot someone.”
“I doubt it would allow you to fly,” she said. “But that pretty much sums it up.”
“Right, well, let’s get going then,” Caleb said, bending down and starting to shimmy into the duct. “I hope it’s a gradual descent.”
“This isn’t much of a plan,” Sylvain said.
“Neither was the raft,” Abbey replied. “You said yourself the point of power is in this building. Don’t we need to get there to get home anyway?”
“If we do make it home, the good news for you is that I doubt I’ll ever be asked to babysit the three of you again,” Sylvain muttered, marching off toward the door to the building with Mark scuttling behind him.
Stale, warm air pressed against Abbey’s face as she crawled down the duct, following Caleb’s sneakers. Thankfully, the duct sloped gradually down.
The whining sound that she’d heard coming from the water intakes intensified as they got deeper into the building.
18. No Observers
Sylvain turned and regarded Mark darkly (no doubt questioning his draw in partners) as they stood outside the door to the building. It was locked, of course. Mark wondered if Sylvain would suggest looping back to the air duct, but Sylvain launched his foot up and kicked the door hard.
A hollow boom echoed through the air. The door didn’t move, and Sylvain jumped around on one foot, holding the other.
The persistent whine from the intakes had started to grate on Mark’s delicate senses. He had to either get away from it, or get it to stop, or he’d be forced into a breakdown of sorts. He reviewed his options. Go back to the duct. Take his chances with Caleb’s people (and a roving panther). Or get into the building, confront his half-sister (who was very bad and lied a lot), and try to get home. All bad options.
Sylvain regarded him through slightly slitted eyes. “You’re unusually strong,” he said. Sylvain didn’t clarify whether he thought this was good or bad. However, it was clear from his expression (even without the benefit of a little yellow card) that he was not completely happy.
Sylvain and Mark crept inside to the mezzanine and peered over the edge. The thunderous hum from the turbines had stopped, but the whining sound vibrated through the building. Just like the man who was here before, Jake stood strapped to the docks at the far end of room, past the double row of six cylindrical generators. His head was on the podium and his entire body looked limp. Sandy was nowhere in sight. Perhaps they could free Jake and be gone. Perhaps it would be easy.
“That’s it,” Sylvain murmured, pointing at the docks. “The point of power.”
They descended the stairs quietly and started to make their way past the generators.
The whining penetrated Mark’s skull, and he wanted to reach out and slash people and things to make it stop. Almost unbidden, the energy he’d been seeking before on the reservoir pooled in his fingertips, begging to be released. He could see why Sylvain wasn’t necessarily pleased with his newfound strength. He might not be able to control it.
They were almost to the docks when Mark’s heart gave a painful jolt and he nearly leapt into Sylvain’s arms in fright (which would probably have electrocuted him in the process). Sandy had emerged from between the middle and last set of generators, along with three men holding guns. Evidently, even for Sandy, guns were more reliable than throwing energy. Ian trailed behind them.
“I’m so glad you’ve come,” Sandy trilled, which even to Mark’s Asperger’s brain sounded as if they had just come for dinner and she didn’t have men holding guns on them. “Where are the others?”
“They’re off looking for Russell. What is this?” Sylvain said.
“Go watch for them,” Sandy instructed one of the men, who departed up the way Mark and Sylvain had come. “This,” Sandy said, spreading her arms expansively, “is the solution we’ve all been looking for. This is reconnecting our futures and sending energy and water to people in need. I just need some help getting it going again.” She motioned at the two men, who lowered their guns.
“Why would we help you, after what you’ve done to the future?” Sylvain said. “To my business ventures?”
“Sylvain, you’re still a rich and powerful man in the future. Yes, I may have taken advantage of some degree of prescience to make some wise investments and establish businesses of my own. But that’s nothing that you haven’t done in the past, and is it not reasonable to share a bit of the wealth?” She paused. “We both have the goal of bringing the futures back together, and this is just one small step in bringing more resources to a future that desperately needs them. Surely you can support that.”
“Ian?” Sylvain said. “Are you part of this?”
“Ian and I are married, silly,” Sandy said. “Of course he supports me.”
Everyone, except the men with guns, swiveled their heads to Ian, who bobbed his head with a big smile that matched the frightening image on one of Mark’s little yellow cards that read “very happy” on the bottom.
“I see,” Sylvain said. “And Jake? He’s not looking very good.”
“I know. He’s just resting right now. He’s played an important role in this, and he’ll get a break soon. I promise. But he’s been a trooper.”
“I’d like to talk to Jake about that,” Sylvain muttered under his breath.
Sandy continued. “Right now, because the diversion failed, half the grid in Coventry City is probably down, perhaps even the hospital. We don’t want to leave those people without power. I know you have a talent for building walls, Sylvain. Maybe you could help get the diversion back up temporarily while I convince Caleb’s people to help rebuild, so we can send Coventry City the power and water it needs. Then Jake here will help the remaining people in this future move to the promised land. I’m afraid Ian and I had to immobilize them on the other side of the diversion. They were going to hurt themselves with this silly attack.”
“But that’s preposterous,” Sylvain sputtered. “Coventry City went solar and geothermal years ago.”
Sandy shook her head with wide eyes. “Not the new Coventry City.”
While she spoke, what had started as a little black seed in Mark’s belly had grown into a big unruly ball of fury. His half-sister lied, punched, and let people fall off diversions onto rocks. She wasn’t interested in saving people. And now she had convinced Ian and maybe Sylvain to help her. Energy felt like it was rippling down his arms and into his hands.
Sandy turned to Mark wearing a broad smile. “I also need Mark’s help. We need to get Peter and Marian home. Mark and I have had a few misunderstandings today, which is understandable of course, given his condition.” She flicked a glance at Sylvain, which even without the benefit of his yellow cards, Mark would interpret as the kindly, exasperated look of a caregiver who has been pushed beyond their limits. Mark nearly unleashed a blast of energy at her. “But I know he knows how to open the door to the wormhole. We have to rescue them, Sylvain. Selena and the others have the Guild completely on their side. We need Peter and Marian’s help to stop her. We might be able to prevent the split in the futures from even happening.”
“When did you become Quinta?” Sylvain asked.
Sandy drew back, her eyes wide. “I’m not. Marian is. She’s the one who set all this up before she followed Peter. That’s why it’s so important to get her back.”
*****
Abbey’s head felt like it was going to explode. And she had a desperate need to sneeze. She, Caleb, and Digby had been peering down through a hole in the ceiling at the proceedings for the last five minutes, and Digby’s whiskers and the dust in the duct were sending her nose into paroxysms.
To make matters worse, the piercing whining they’d heard from the intakes outside was even more intense inside. The sound was low, but unnerving. It didn’t make sense; with no water, the turbines would be off and the intake would be pulling nothing in. Penstocks were gravity fed. They shouldn’t be whining. The unearthly sound was making her teeth ache. It felt evil somehow.
And now Sandy was suggesting all sorts of crazy things: that Abbey’s mother was Quinta and had established the diversion and the turbines and everything, that she was trying to bring the futures together, and that Sandy and Ian were married. She was also suggesting that Abbey’s parents could be rescued
Abbey glanced over at Caleb, who was squished into the duct next to her, squinting at Sandy as if in deep concentration.
“Do you believe her?” she whispered.
Caleb shook his head. “I don’t know. Everything she says could be true. Why wouldn’t Ian have said anything, though?”
The future is crumbling. That’s what Selena had said. Whatever changes Sandy had made to the future, they were not benign. Abbey thought of the transport company, the destruction of New L.A., Simon’s arrest, and her own apparently obliterated future. But maybe Sandy wasn’t responsible for those changes. Maybe they all were. Why would she believe Selena, who’d done many bad things, over Sandy? Ian clearly supported Sandy. Abbey’s mother and Sandy were friends. Was Abbey letting her dislike of Sandy, maybe even her jealousy of Sandy, get in the way? But it didn’t make sense. Ian would have said something.
Unless he had been luring them here. The suggestion that they were assets ran cloyingly through her mind.
“So will you help?” Sandy said. “So we can get this back up and running and get the hospital operational again?”
“I’d be more inclined to help if you let Jake go
,” Sylvain said.
Sandy’s face sharpened a bit before she donned a serene smile. “I can’t. The connection would be broken, and I don’t know if it can be reestablished. Sylvain, once you get the temporary diversion in place, I’ll take Mark down to the dam to rescue Marian and Peter. Marian will know what to do. We just need to find another camel, and then I can let Jake go.”
“What if we don’t help you?” Sylvain said.
“You don’t want to be the one to tell Abbey and Caleb that you had the chance to help their parents and didn’t, do you?”
“What about your mother? Is she with them?” Sylvain said.
Sandy’s eyebrows lowered. “No. We’ve taken her to a safe place outside of Coventry to recover. My dad has gone with her.”
Abbey shifted her gaze over to Mark, who’d squished his face into a deep scowl and stood with clenched fists and a partly stooped body, as if he might be about to drop into one of his crouches. Abbey tensed. It was never good when Mark looked like that.
“No!” Mark bellowed.
A rush of something blasted from his fingertips and blew Sandy and the others onto their butts. The men raised their guns immediately and a surge of energy gathered around Sandy. Abbey could sense that Sandy was pulling molecules just as Abbey now could, except Abbey pulled molecules of matter, whereas Sandy pulled molecules of energy. Was Sandy going to obliterate Mark and Sylvain?
Abbey looked wildly around the duct. She and Caleb were at least ten meters up, and there was no obvious way down.
But Sandy rose, brushed the dirt off her pants, and gave Sylvain a bland look. “I’m afraid Mark is having some difficulty understanding the importance of what we’re doing. Can you talk to him?”
Sylvain seemed frozen.
“You do not talk to me. You talk with me,” Mark declared. “You are a liar and a bad person. You punched me, and my mother is with Ms. Beckham and Mr. Sinclair.”