Dead Time

by D. L. Orton

  “That’s enough!” Lani says, stepping right in front of the gun. “You can’t blame Diego for what happened to us.”

  Dave pulls her against his chest, still pointing the handgun at Shannon. “There are thousands of lives at stake here, babe. If I let him leave, everything I’ve done—all that I’ve worked for—could be lost.”

  Lani looks up at him, her voice calm. “You saved the world once, David. Now it’s someone else’s turn. If Soleil says she can do it, then I believe her—and you should too.”

  Dave hesitates, his eyes moving from Soleil… to James… to me.

  “You’re the one who has to rebuild the world,” Lani says. “Assuming you don’t spend all your time playing with the grandkids.”

  “Grandkids?” Dave says, looking like he’s never heard the word before.

  “Yes,” Lani says. “Shannon and Peter are getting married as soon as Peter’s grandmother arrives, and I’m hoping we’ll have grandkids.”

  “Shannon?” He lowers the gun.

  Lani smiles and rests her hands on his chest. “Yes. Shannon’s your daughter, David.”

  “Mr. Kirk is my dad?” Shannon says, her eyes wide.

  Dave clears his throat and then looks at Shannon—who’s sizing him up like he’s an iffy contestant on the Pick Your Father game show.

  Dave turns back to Lani, his eyebrows knitted together. “Why didn’t you tell me, babe?”

  She reaches up and strokes his face. “I tried to, but I didn’t want to… take away your dreams.”

  “Holy fuck. I have a daughter?”

  Lani nods, tears in her eyes—and then looks over at Shannon. “Isn’t she just perfect?”

  Shannon rolls her eyes, taps a key on the keyboard, and waves to me. “Good luck, Mr. C. Have fun storming the castle!”

  “Ten seconds to activation,” the computer says. “Nine…”

  I lie down in the coffin and pull the lid shut.

  “Eight…”

  Someone seals it from the outside.

  My heart is pounding so loudly, I can’t hear the countdown anymore.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, wondering where I’ll go back to… and hoping it’s not that damn tree. At least I’m not naked this time.

  There’s no place like home. There’s no place like ho—

  And the time machine engages.

  43

  Arrival

  Diego

  It’s cold and dark when I come to, and for a moment I wonder if the time machine has failed.

  Something sharp is poking me in the back—not the smooth, hard metal of the coffin—and it smells like… a pine forest.

  Christ, I hope I’m in the right universe.

  I force my eyelids to open.

  Stars swim behind a watery film.

  I try to sit up, but my body is still numb, and the muscles don’t respond. I lie there for another minute, letting the cool night air move in and out of my lungs.

  Not in the Magic Kingdom and not on a tropical beach.

  And not in that damn pine tree.

  I close my fingers around the seashell. If Matt is right, and it has brought me home, Isabel is alive and well.

  Either at the cabin or safely inside Dave’s biodome.

  There’s a rustling sound next to my shoulder, and I turn my head. An arm’s-length away, two glowing orbs are floating in the darkness, eyes reflecting the light coming from behind me.

  “Shoo!” I say, but the sound comes out as more of a cough.

  The raccoon—an animal extinct in the place and time I just left—turns and lumbers back into the forest.

  Wherever—and whenever—I am, the virus hasn’t mutated yet.

  I blink a couple of times and look around.

  I’m lying on a forest floor, looking up into a starry night sky, a half moon hanging above the treetops. I look for the Big Dipper, afraid it will be distorted—or even gone.

  It’s right where it should be—and all the stars are twinkling in their correct locations. I check the North Star and then the Orion constellation. All is as it should be—which leaves me ninety-nine percent sure I’m home.

  Some heavy weight I didn’t realize I was carrying evaporates into the night.

  I can hear water cascading over rocks, and in the distance, the periodic whine of a heavy-duty drill—and music coming from somewhere nearby.

  You’re at the cabin?

  I push myself up into a sitting position and check that my clothes made the trip—

  Hallelujah.

  — and then flex the muscles in my arms and legs to get the blood flowing.

  My eyes still sting and my throat is dry, but at least I’m not at the top of a tree.

  The Bub is down the hill from me, its circular dome glowing in the still mountain night.

  I glance down at the seashell in my hand.

  Whoever programed the shell targeting knew his shit.

  There is scaffolding on one side and workmen near the apex of the dome, their huge spotlights pushing back the darkness. The man-made fishpond next to the biodome is only half-full of water—that’s the waterfall I can hear, a long fire hose dumping water into it—and the apple trees lining the raised embankment are all saplings. A handful of guards are walking along a security fence that encloses the biodome—and a warm tongue of light is streaming out the main airlock door.

  Dave hasn’t sealed it yet.

  All around me are tents of every shape and size, their outlines flickering in the light of campfires for as far as I can see. It’s like Woodstock in the Rockies.

  I need to find a phone.

  “You okay, mister? I heard a loud bang.”

  I turn toward the voice.

  “Y-y…” I clear my throat, looking up at a young boy. “Yes. But I seem to have hit my head on a branch and knocked myself out. I’m afraid I’m a bit disoriented. What is today’s date?”

  He tells me, and I do the calculation. I’ve been gone for the same amount of time I was in the bubble universe.

  I’m home.

  “You don’t have it, do you?” he says and takes a step back. “That disease that makes you puke your guts until you die?”

  “Nope,” I say. “No puking here. What are you doing out so late?”

  “Had to pee,” he says and flicks on a flashlight he’s holding under his chin. It casts ghostly shadows across his face. “Only I remembered to bring my flashlight so I wouldn’t run into any trees.” He looks to be seven or eight.

  “Well, that definitely makes you smarter than me.”

  “Yeah.” He flicks the flashlight off. “But my sister told me not to use it unless I really needed it because there are no such things as monsters and we don’t have any more batteries.”

  I smile. “I wish I was as certain as your sister about the monsters.”

  “Who are you talking to, Sam?” a soft female voice calls from behind the boy. Sam turns to watch a flashlight bobbing through the trees toward us.

  I’d recognize the lilting Hawaiian accent anywhere.

  Lani!

  Whatever forces are at play in the fabric of space-time, there seems to be some sort of connection binding together the same set of players.

  Or maybe you’re the luckiest man in the universe.

  I didn’t know where the time machine would place me—so I’m making it up as I go—but it occurs to me that a little blood will help support my story. I pick up a fist-sized rock and smack the edge hard against my forehead.

  Mierda!

  I drop the rock and check the wound. My fingers come away wet.

  The boy turns back to me. “There’s a man out here who hit his head on a tree branch, but he says he’s okay—and he’s not puking.”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I say and attempt to stand up. “Or I thought I was.” The sudden change of altitude makes my head spin, and I stumble sideways.

  Sam grabs on to my arm. “I think you’re bleeding, mister.”

  Lani shin
es the light in my face. “You are bleeding.”

  “To be honest,” I say, fighting the vertigo, “I don’t feel so hot—but I need to get to the biodome.” I squint at her, shading my eyes with my hand.

  “You and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir,” she says and lowers the flashlight.

  “My wife’s in there,” I say. “Or I hope she is. I need to make sure.”

  “They’re not letting anyone back in tonight,” she says. “I already tried.”

  “Could I borrow your phone?” I ask. “I seem to have lost mine.”

  “Sure,” Sam says, “except the cell phone towers have been out for weeks.”

  I wipe the blood off my forehead. “Well, that would explain why I haven’t been able to reach her.”

  “You can try tomorrow,” Lani says, shining her flashlight back on my forehead. “In the meantime, would you like me to take a look at that cut? I’m not a doctor, but I do have medical training.”

  “That’s very kind of you to offer,” I say. “But I wouldn’t want to impose.” I try to take a step, but my legs are like rubber, and I stumble again.

  Sam grabs on to my arm. “Whoa there, mister! I think you should let my sister take a look.”

  “Sam’s right,” she says. “At least let me clean the wound and check that you don’t have a concussion.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” I say. “I do apologize for the bother.”

  “It’s no bother,” she says and takes my other arm. “Our tent’s back this way.”

  “Thank you,” I say, trying not to wince as I step on rocks and pine needles. I don’t have any shoes on—just my pair of mismatched socks—and my legs still aren’t working properly.

  She tightens her grip, leading me across the uneven ground. “Where’s your tent?”

  “Actually, I don’t have one,” I say, not needing to fake the embarrassment in my voice. “I was afraid I’d get here too late. So, I didn’t stop to purchase camping supplies.”

  In for a dime, in for a dollar.

  “I have a… reservation,” I say, hoping it sounds plausible. “And dumb as it sounds, I had planned to walk right up to the biodome and ring the doorbell.”

  Sam laughs. “We have tickets to get inside too—not like all of these lolos who came here just to cause trouble.”

  “Shh,” Lani says still leading me past more campsites. “It’s not nice to call people that.”

  Sam groans. “But you call them that all the time!”

  “No worries,” I say, trying not to laugh. “I certainly feel stupid tonight. I had hoped to get here earlier, but it proved more difficult than I expected. I spoke to Dave Kirk” —I fake a cough— “excuse me. I spoke to Mr. Kirkland yesterday. He may be forced to seal up the biodome sooner than expected.”

  “You know Mr. Kirkland?” Sam says. “He’s awesome! He’s going to marry my sister.”

  “Sam!”

  I rest my hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Your sister does seem very nice.” I look at Lani, still trying to determine if her face is scarred. “Thanks again for helping me.”

  “Anyone who’s a friend of David’s is a friend of mine,” she says. “My name’s Lani, and this is my brother, Sam.” She unzips a tent flap and holds it open for me.

  I step inside and collapse onto the floor.

  A candle lamp is hanging from the roof, casting a warm glow inside.

  “I’m Diego,” I say and offer her my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lani.” I shake her brother’s hand and notice his Pikachu shirt. “Nice to meet you too, Sam. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t found me.”

  “You must have hit your head pretty hard,” Sam says, “because that was a loud bang.”

  “That’ll teach me not to go running around in the dark after Mewtwo.”

  Sam gasps. “You play Pokémon Go?”

  “Of course,” I say and ruffle his dark hair.

  “Cool.” He sits down on his dragon-motif sleeping bag and lets out a giant yawn.

  “Back to bed, young man,” Lani says, cleaning her hands with antiseptic gel.

  Sam protests but crawls into his bag.

  “You look really familiar,” she says and takes out her medical bag. “Have we met before?”

  “If I’m not mistaken,” I say, watching her tear open an alcohol pad, “this is the second time I’m in your debt. You saved my fiancée’s life—and probably mine as well—in that firestorm in downtown Denver a couple of years ago.”

  She stares at me, her eyes wide, and then gives a single nod. “I’m glad it worked out for you.”

  I swallow, hoping with all my being that it’s true.

  She nods and starts dabbing at my forehead. The shrewd, tomboy with the chopped hair and loose-fitting clothes has made a stunning transformation. Lani looks like a modern-day geisha in yoga pants and a tight sweater. Her flawless porcelain skin and long black hair are the perfect complement to her graceful movements.

  Although she doesn’t look a day over eighteen, it’s easy to tell what Dave—that forty-something, lecherous old man—sees in her: youthful perfection.

  All of which, she’s about to lose—along with her brother—if things play out the same in this universe.

  “Can you tell me a bedtime story, Lani?” Sam asks.

  She glances at me. “Perhaps Diego would do the honors while I finish up?”

  I make up a story about Pikachu and the three bears while Lani attends to my forehead.

  When she’s done, she checks my eyes with a penlight.

  “No concussion,” she says and offers me a bottle of water. “But you’re dehydrated, and your pupil response is sluggish. I wouldn’t suggest any strenuous exercise for the next day or two.”

  I drink the water in two or three gulps. “Thank you. I didn’t realize I was so thirsty until you mentioned it.” I start to get up, wondering where the hell I’m going to spend the night.

  Sam grabs on to my elbow. “Do you think he can come with us tomorrow, Lani? To the biodome, I mean? Maybe he can help us get through the guard station?”

  Lani looks as me, asking with her eyes if it’s okay.

  I nod at Sam. “Sure. As long as it’s alright with your sister, I’ll meet you here in the morning.”

  “Please, Lani?” Sam says, still holding on to my arm.

  “I think that’s a fine idea,” she says and then turns to me. “Do you have a place to sleep?”

  I shake my head. “I’ll see if I can find somewhere out of the wind and—”

  “He can sleep here!” Sam says, patting his bed. “You brought extra blankets, Lani, and it’s only one night.”

  “No, I couldn’t,” I say. “That would be—”

  “He can sleep on my side, and he can use my pillow, and he can—”

  “Okay, okay,” Lani says, putting the medical supplies away. “He can stay tonight.”

  “Yes!” Sam says and scoots his sleeping bag over so there’s room on the other side.

  “Shh. Go to sleep.” She kisses Sam on the forehead, hands me two blankets and a jacket to use as a pillow, and then blows out the candle.

  “Thank you,” I say and lie down next to Sam.

  I listen to Lani get into her sleeping bag, my eyelids already heavy.

  She lets out a soft sigh. “Good night, Sherlock.”

  ∞

  The sun is high in the sky when I scramble out of the empty tent, half panicked that Lani and Sam have left without me.

  But they’re just finishing up breakfast.

  “Morning, sleepyhead,” Sam says. “We saved you some food.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lani offers me a Pop-Tart and a juice box. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better, thanks. Anything new happen while I was—”

  “They’re shutting the biodome doors!” someone shouts, and a minute later, mobs of people are running past us, some of them carrying guns.

  “Oka fefe,” Lani says, standing there wit
h her hands on her hips. “Dave said it would be at least another week before they closed it.”

  She starts packing her things, but I scoop up Sam and grab her by the arm. “Just leave the tent, Lani! We need to get down to the biodome before the fighting breaks out—and the fires.”

  “What fires?”

  “Never mind. Get your tickets, and let’s go!”

  She dives into the tent and comes out wearing a backpack and carrying her medical bag.

  We follow the crowd, cutting across campsites and stepping on discarded protest signs. I spy an abandoned pair of loafers and stuff my feet into them, grateful to have something to protect my feet.

  We tramp down the hill toward the security fence and the giant mass of desperate people. I carry Sam in one arm and hold tight to Lani with the other hand. People are throwing bottles and other trash over the fence and yelling obscenities at the men working the checkpoint.

  The security forces are scanning the angry throng, guns at the ready.

  I look for Dave but don’t see anyone except uniformed men. The huge gate is shut, but there’s a circle of jeeps parked just inside it.

  We stand behind the fence for a minute, watching the chaos.

  “Look,” Sam says and points at a couple who have been let through the gate and are running toward the airlock. “They’re letting some people in!”

  “Come on,” I say and start pushing through the crowd toward the checkpoint. “We need to find Dave.”

  We spend twenty minutes trying to push our way closer to the gate. There must be five thousand people crowded around the small entrance, and I realize it’s hopeless. There’s no way we’re going to get anywhere near the gate. I lean over so Lani can hear me above all the shouting.

  “Let’s try the side entrance,” I say. “The one you used before you had two tickets.”

  She stares up at me. “What side entrance? I haven’t been here before—and why wouldn’t I have a ticket for Sam?”

  “You haven’t been in the biodome yet?” I’m starting to get a really bad feeling about this. How much stuff has changed between this universe and the one I just left?

  “No,” she says. “David sent our tickets a few days ago, but they weren’t good until today.”