Flux

by Jeremy Robinson

  “Geez,” Levi says looking at the weapon. “You fixin’ to take down a bear?”

  “Happens on occasion,” I say, and he doesn’t argue. While most black bears will run upon detecting the presence of a human being, chance encounters do happen. Catching a bear off guard, sleeping, or in the company of cubs, can quickly become a life-or-death situation. And while I’d feel horrible for killing a mother bear, I’d feel worse being mauled by one.

  I step into the woods on the left side of the road, hoping whoever fired those 9 mil rounds hasn’t crossed it. “C’mon.”

  “I’d feel better if I had a gun, too,” Levi says, stepping into the woods behind me.

  I’m sure he can shoot. Not many people in these parts who can’t, whether they’re a diehard gun owner or they just pop off a few rounds on the 4th of July. But he’s still under my care, and on Synergy’s land…albeit long before the company’s existence. But I don’t need to mention any of that, because, “I don’t have a gun to offer you.”

  “What about that?”

  He’s pointing at my hip, where my non-lethals are clipped—a taser and a can of mace. “Why not?” I say, unclipping the taser. “You know how to use it?”

  “Point and shoot?” he guesses.

  I smile, turn the weapon around, and hand it to him. He feels the heft of it in his hands, seems satisfied, and then aims the weapon toward my face.

  A series of options flash through my mind, none of them ending pleasantly for Levi. Then I notice that the weapon isn’t pointed directly at my head, but just to the side, over my shoulder. Still, it’s close enough to make me second-guess giving him any kind of weapon, even if it can’t kill me.

  I’m about to ask what the hell he’s thinking when he raises a finger to his lips, shushing me. I don’t need to ask him where to look. The raised taser is beacon enough. Moving slowly, I turn around and peer into the woods.

  At first, I see nothing more than the maze of trees walling off everything beyond fifty feet. Then I see it, a subtle shift of shadow moving between tall trunks. It’s a woman, hunched low, moving slowly and carefully, stalking like a predator. I catch just a short glimpse of her, moving in shadow. It’s not nearly enough to identify her—if that’s even possible—but she’s not coming this way or even aware of our presence.

  “Remember the boot prints?” Levi whispers. “The small ones.”

  I nod. Could this be the woman whose tracks were left inside her larger counterparts’? They exited the road on the same side as my father—shit—but they could have circled around. To plant that C4 on the truck, they would have had to.

  The key to a successful hunt is stealth. As soon as the prey knows you’re there, the advantage is lost—even when you’re carrying a gun. Clear line of sight in the forest isn’t easy to come by, especially if your target is running. So I don’t hurry after the woman. I creep in her general direction, watching every step and keeping quiet.

  Levi does an impressive job of matching my pace and volume. He’s stepping where I do, breathing steadily, aware but not agitated. With a bit of training, and a good dose of discipline, he’ll make a great addition to my team.

  I’m not in the habit of hiring people on the verge of becoming criminals—for all I know, my house isn’t the first he’s broken into—but when I spotted him lurking in the woods outside my house, there was something about him that snuck past fight-or-flight and found its way to mercy. Maybe I saw potential in him. Maybe I just saw myself, under different circumstances. I don’t know. But I’m glad I gave him the chance.

  I’ll be even happier with my choice if I can keep him alive and get him back to the present, where we belong, despite his fantasies of living the good life for the next thirty years.

  When we close to within twenty feet of the woman, I hold up an open hand. Levi stops behind me, crouching as we peer around a tree. The woman has stopped, her back to us. She’s squatted by a tree, looking at something on the ground. She’s petite, maybe five feet tall, black hair pulled back in a tight pony-tail. She seems comfortable in the woods, and with the 9mm handgun she’s holding. But the blue jeans, snug yellow T-shirt, and high-top Converse Chuck Taylors tell me she’s not out here for a hike, or for any kind of criminal activity. The clothing also tells me that she’s from our time, not because it doesn’t look vintage—it does—but because like us, she’s not dressed for the cold. Her dark skin is peppered with goosebumps.

  Despite all the visual cues, I don’t recognize her until she stands up. I’ve grown accustomed to seeing her in uniform rather than in her casual clothing, which in these parts is a style all her own, more suited to Southern California than Appalachia. “Cassie.”

  She flinches, spinning around, weapon raised.

  I duck back behind the tree. As one of my oldest and most trusted friends, I don’t think she’s a threat, but she’s spooked. Sometimes trigger fingers twitch.

  “Who’s there?” she asks without firing a round.

  “You gonna shoot your only friend?” I ask.

  “Owen?” Her voice is full of hope.

  I step out from behind the tree to find her weapon already lowered. Nervous tension drains out of her when our eyes meet.

  “The hell is happening out here?” She takes a moment to scan the trees around us, whose leaves were green not long ago and are now showing traces of yellow, orange, and red. She tucks the handgun into the back of her pants and rubs her arms.

  She knows something changed. Probably experienced the same shockwave we did, but she doesn’t know we’re in the past. How could she?

  “Not sure,” I say, and I watch her tension return when Levi steps out behind me.

  I raise both hands to calm her. “He’s with me. New recruit.”

  She looks Levi up and down. “Uh-huh.”

  “What are you doing out here?” I ask, sounding a little bit more like her boss than I prefer.

  “You triggered the motion sensors when you drove in,” she says. “Harper clued me in when I arrived. Figured I’d chase you down early. Get some bonus points.” To Levi. “He acts like your friend, but he’s a hard-ass prick. No one likes him.”

  She gives me a wink, and then continues. “Hence the lack of uniform.”

  I don’t need to ask about the gun. Like a lot of people in Harlan County, Cassie’s seen her fair share of trouble. When she’s inside the protective boundaries of Synergy, she doesn’t carry a weapon, but on the outside, she’s always armed.

  “What made you think bringing a newbie on a breach drill was a good idea?” she asks.

  “Wasn’t a drill.” I slip my weapon back in its holster. “And it wasn’t me.”

  “Someone blew up his truck,” Levi says.

  Cassie’s eyes widen. “I heard that. Not long before…” She motions to the colored leaves with her head. “…all this happened. Was headed to check it out when, well, I’m guessing you saw it…and felt it, too. You know what they’re working on up there?”

  “I’m fixin’ to find out,” I tell her, “but in the meantime, we have a few things to figure out, starting with what you were shooting at.”

  She rolls her eyes and deflates a bit. “If you tease me ’bout it or tell a soul, I swear to Jiminy Christmas, I will burn that shithole you call a house to the ground.”

  A slight grin is my only response.

  She steps aside to reveal a corpse.

  As Levi and I step in for a closer look, he starts chuckling.

  “Hey,” Cassie warns.

  “I didn’t promise shit,” he says, “and if you think murdering a coon is gonna make me afraid of ya—”

  I take hold of his arm and he falls silent. Honestly, he has nothing to fear from Cassie. She can put on a good show and look as fierce as anything else in the woods, but she’s got a gentle heart. Still, it’s not his place to tease her. That’s my job, and I’ll take care of that when we’re safe—not trapped in the past.

  “What happened?” I ask, crouching over the r
acoon. It’s got three bullet holes in it, two in the side, one in the head. “Also, nice aim.”

  “Been practicing,” she says. “Damn thing charged me. Out of its mind. Figured it had rabies, so I didn’t want to take any chances. Put it down.”

  “Makes sense,” I say, standing back up.

  “Horse-shit,” Cassie says. “Nothing makes sense.” She motions to the dead racoon. “This little shit is about the only thing that makes a lick of sense.”

  She squints at me, stepping closer. She’s a good foot shorter than me and maybe a hundred pounds lighter. But she still manages to intimidate like she’s got rabies herself. “You know something.” Pokes my chest. “What do you know, Owen? We’ve been friends for too long for you to think keeping secrets is a good idea.”

  “Right about that,” I say.

  “Then why haven’t you told me?”

  “Reckon you won’t believe it until you see it for yourself.”

  “Look around you.” She waves her hands around at the forest. “This is some freaky shit. I’m liable to believe just about anything.”

  “Suit yourself,” I tell her, sharing a look with Levi.

  “You definitely ain’t gonna believe him,” the kid says.

  “It’s October,” I tell her.

  She raises a single eyebrow. “Not August?”

  “Not anymore,” I say.

  She sighs. “You’re telling me we jumped two months forward in time?”

  Her tone is hard to read. There’s no way she believes me, but she’s doing a good job hiding it. She’s probably trying to suss out if I’m messing with her, or if I’m being honest and have lost my mind. “Backward.”

  Her stare loses some of its power. “What?”

  “Cass, it’s October 14, 1985.” Before she can chew me out for screwing with her, I raise my hands. “You know what that date means to me. You know what happens tomorrow. And you know I wouldn’t dick around about that.”

  She grows somber. Confused. What she knows about the world and what she knows about me slam headlong into each other. As impossible as time-travel might seem, me making light of my father’s death is even less likely.

  I glance back toward the road. “I can prove it to you.”

  Before I can explain how, or take a step toward the road, a loud buzzing fills the air, high above us on the mountain.

  Levi groans and does a good job verbalizing what I’m thinking. “Jumpin’ Jahosafuck, not again…”

  I run back to the road with Cassie and Levi on my six, reaching the dirt path just in time to see the roaring wall of distortion. I’m driven to my knees by the force of it, hands over my ears, scream drowned out once again. For a moment, I’m lost inside my own mind, unable to make sense of anything.

  And then it ends, rolling downhill like a tidal wave. I take several long breaths, collecting myself. When I think I’ve braced myself for the worst, I look up and find myself unprepared. The woods are still present, but the road is missing.

  7

  Aside from a gentle breeze flowing through the once-again green-leafed trees, and the cheerful whistle of various birds, the world goes silent. Even Levi, who seems to have a colorful expression for just about any situation, is at a loss for words. The shift is dramatic.

  “Owen,” Cassie says, but her question is cut short when a flock of birds bursts from the trees around us and takes to the sky. There must be fifty of them, their plumes unmistakable.

  Levi sees it, too, eyes tracking the flock. “Bachman’s warblers.”

  “What the holy hell do birds have to do—”

  “They’re extinct,” Levi explains, then motions to me. “According to him.”

  “Don’t look very extinct.” Cassie’s in shock, coming to terms with the undisputable realization that we have, once again, been transported into the past.

  “The mine opened in 1950, so we’re sometime before that.” I look at the trees again. They’re lush with leaves. The temperature has risen by twenty degrees, and the air is thick. Summer has returned. “Let’s call it summer, 1945.”

  While I’m sure about it being summer, the year is debatable without any landmarks to go by.

  “You’re saying we just traveled seventy something years into the past?” Cassie asks.

  “I think ‘traveled’ is the wrong word,” I say. “Were carried feels more accurate.”

  “Who gives a shit how we word it?” Cassie begins to pace, scanning the endless forest around us.

  “And technically, we were carried—” Levi pauses to give me a smile. He’s handling our second jump fairly well. “—just forty years, on account of us already being in 1985.”

  Cassie stops, levels her glare and her index finger at Levi. “Don’t screw with me, kid. I don’t know you, I’m not sure I like you, and I have a tendency to kick annoying men in the nuts.”

  Icebergs melt faster than Cassie warms up to someone under the best of circumstances. I don’t see her getting chummy with Levi anytime soon, but that doesn’t mean they have to be at odds. “Cass, I know this is messed up.”

  “On so many levels.”

  I nod, hands on her shoulders. “But I think our best way to handle it is as professionals.”

  “Professional what?” she asks. “Time travelers? I’m pretty sure even your training didn’t cover temporal displacement.”

  “First, bonus points for the big words. That was like six syllables.” She smiles. “Second, we know these woods, no matter what year it is. All of us do. We know how to survive. How to track. How to hunt, if it comes down to it. I think it’s safe to assume that this…effect is originating from Synergy. And if it’s still happening, then maybe the facility, the people who work in it, and the answers we all want, are inside. So until we know otherwise, we’re going to do our jobs.”

  “Which means…” Levi says.

  “Fall back to Synergy and do whatever it takes to make sure everyone there is safe.”

  “And twist some nipples until the asshats who did this get us home,” Cassie adds.

  Levi chuckles. Cassie might not ever be fond of the kid, but I can tell he’s already taking a liking to her.

  Even without the road to guide us, there’s no question about which way to go. I start moving uphill, scanning the forest for any other changes, and the others fall in behind me.

  I’ve led some of the world’s most dangerous men through hostile terrain, filled with people who wanted to mount our heads on pikes, but as nerve-wracking as those missions were, this is worse. Not only am I in hostile territory—someone blew up my truck, and I don’t think that was a coincidence—but the territory is changing in unpredictable ways. More than that, I’m responsible for the people with me. Cassie and Levi aren’t Special Forces. They’re not even soldiers. Levi is an amateur thief, and a really bad one at that. Cassie is capable with a handgun, but she’s never had to fire her weapon at anything more dangerous than an irate racoon—and that was just a few minutes ago.

  My thoughts drift to my father and my younger self, safe in 1985. But not safe. My stomach clenches, knowing what young Owen is going to live through tomorrow.

  Not that it’s tomorrow anymore. If my guess at the year is close, my father might not even be born yet.

  Twenty minutes into our hike, the sound of trickling water ignites a desperate thirst. It’s been hours since I had a drink, and most of that time has been spent hiking up and down this mountainside. I take a quick look at my surroundings, spot a familiar boulder, and put a mental pushpin in an imaginary map. “Big Stone Spring isn’t far. It’s a little out of the way, but I think we should—”

  Cassie redirects her course. Knows where she is just as surely as I do. Big Stone got its name on account of the big stone that clued me in to our location, but when we were teenagers, most people called it Big Stoned Spring because people used it for a pot-smoking meeting place. Cassie and I both spent some time at the spring, playing cards, smoking doobies, and doing what most teenagers
do in Appalachia—killing time.

  We reach the spring five minutes later. It’s little more than a gurgle of water rolling over a collection of loose stones. The fluid runs downhill in a series of small pools. Further on, it will be joined by other streams that feed a good-sized pond.

  Cassie crouches by the spring, cups her hands beneath the water—chilled to the temperature of the Earth—and drinks. She does it right, avoiding the easily accessible pools of water where animals are more likely to drink, piss, and shit. Dehydration is a bitch, but giardia can be a killer if left untreated. And I don’t think severe cramps, diarrhea, and vomiting will help us solve our current problems.

  When Cassie’s had her fill, I motion for Levi to drink next. While he crouches by the spring, Cassie takes in the scenery.

  “More trees,” she says before approaching one of the big maples that’s still around during our time. She runs a hand over its bark. Decades from now, its pristine surface will be covered in initials, including both of ours. “It’s like we don’t exist.”

  “We don’t,” I say. “Not yet.”

  She shakes her head and leans in close. “Seriously, Owen.” She’s whispering, her distrust of Levi unabated. “Do you know anything?”

  “You know I’d tell you if I did,” I say. “I’m as clueless as you…which means I’m a barely functional adult.”

  She huffs a laugh. “Asshole.”

  “What are friends for?”

  “You all gonna start making out or something?” Levi says, water dripping from his chin and soaking his tank top. He might be from the twenty-first century, but he drinks like a Neanderthal. “’Cause I can go wait behind a tree or sumptin’. Let you two get carnal or whatever.”