“That was a big one,” he says when he spots me approaching.
“Dad okay?” I ask him.
“Fine,” my father says. “You learn anything interesting?”
“Nothing that will put you at ease,” I tell him. “But a plan is coming together.”
The Cherokee woman removes her hand from the bandage on his head and lifts his hand up to hold it. “Thank you,” he says to her, receiving a nod in return before she moves on to help others. Then he turns back to me. “Something dangerous, I reckon?”
“Just sitting around is dangerous,” Owen says.
“Hopefully not for much longer,” I tell him. It’s wishful thinking. Our plan is really just a bullet-point list of goals, completely devoid of how to make them happen. But it’s a start.
The problem is that offering everyone unrealistic hope doesn’t seem honest enough. Not for my formerly deceased father and my younger self. “You should know…this is permanent.”
“Living in this place?” Owen asks, looking around the cramped quarters.
“Living in the past,” I say. “We might be able to stop our backward progress, but we can’t undo it.”
Both of them take the news a bit better than I was expecting. My father takes my hand. “Near as I can tell, we have just about everything we had back home.”
“Even more,” Owen says, smiling up at me.
If all of us survive.
“Listen, we need to—”
“Upsee-daisy, asshole,” Kuzneski says. His tone throws me for a moment, until I realize it’s coming from the main door rather than from the bedroom.
I nearly rush him. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. But he’s armed with an assault rifle, as are the men flanking him. Between them there is enough firepower to cut down every man, woman, and child behind me.
“What do you want?” I ask, standing my ground.
“It’s not what I want, it’s what the big man wants.” Future Kuzneski points a finger at me. “And right now, that is you.”
When I don’t move or respond, he adds, “Don’t make me ‘or else’ you, man.”
I glance back to the bedroom door, where Cassie and younger Kuzneski are watching. The two Kuzneskis flip each other off. Same gesture. Same timing. Their synchronicity seems to annoy both of them.
“Now,” Future Kuzneski says, but I still don’t budge until Cassie gives me a nod. There’s no choice. We both know it. I turn to Owen, say, “Take care of your old man,” and then I give our father a smile.
And with that, I head for the door, arms raised. I’m fully expecting to be bound, but Future Kuzneski just turns and heads for the door, allowing me to follow him, flanked by the two guards. Again, I could attack. Disarming the men and shooting Kuzneski in the back would take seconds.
But then what?
I’m not being roughed up or mistreated. If Future Langdon saw me as a threat, I’d certainly be in chains. He’s not a fool. Despite my future self being at odds with the man, I have yet to tip my hand. If his impression of my current self is different to that of my future self, well, maybe he thinks I’ll toe the line. And I reckon I’ll let him go right on thinking that until I decide to pop him in the face and stop this crazy train through time in its tracks.
I’m led down the hall toward the door through which I entered the building. Kuzneski stops by a door and opens it to reveal a closet. He slips into a winter jacket before tossing one to each of the men behind me. “Colder than a Yeti’s taint out there.” Rather than offering me a coat, he closes the closet door and exits the building.
Arctic air rolls through the open door, flooding the hallway. It’s cold enough to take my breath away, burning my exposed skin. Just a few minutes in this frigid air will do permanent damage. Part of me wants to be the tough guy and step out into the cold. Put on a show of strength by resisting its effects. But I’m not fighting for my pride here. I’m fighting for the people in this building, and at Adel’s base. I need to play it smart, and that means not losing my fingers.
I yank open the closet and pull out a jacket for myself.
“Hey,” one of the guards grumbles.
He flinches back when I give him a death-glare and say, “Try to stop me.”
Kuzneski has a good laugh at the guard’s expense, but it’s short-lived. His teeth are already chattering. “Fuck, it’s cold. Let’s go already.”
Blinding white light stuns me for a moment. The late afternoon sun blazes down through a deep blue sky, reflecting off a five-foot-tall wall of snow surrounding Synergy’s perimeter. The amount of snow on its own is strange, even for an Appalachian mountaintop in the middle of winter. But it’s made more dramatic by the lack of trees. The forest is missing.
Kuzneski notes my attention on our surroundings and says, “Welcome to the Ice Age, asshole.”
32
“I know the way,” I say, when Kuzneski course-corrects me with a shove.
“Maybe I just enjoy pushing you,” he says.
“What happened between us?” I ask, doing my best to not glare at the man. It’s not too difficult as he still has the face of my friend…with a few scars courtesy of my future self. The obvious answer is that we chose different sides of a fight, like brothers in the Civil War. I have trouble believing this is just about money for him. He doesn’t seem surprised about being thrown back in time, where money is useless.
“You did.” He shoves me again.
“How?”
“You already forget the scars on my face and chest?”
“It’s more than that.”
“Fine,” he says, yanking me to a stop. “You want to know? You really want to fucking know?” He grips my coat and yanks me close. His words come out as a grinding growl, partially drowned out by the frigid howling winds. “I’m your inside man, and if you don’t stop asking me questions, you’re going to blow my freaking cover. I’m here because it’s where you, where future you, wanted me.” He gives me a violent shake for the two men watching. “Do you know how hard it is to act like an asshole all the time?”
We look each other in the eyes.
“Okay,” he says, trying hard not to smile. “It’s not that hard. But just sitting on my hands while Dr. Doom shoots us back in time ain’t easy.”
I’m not sure what to say, or if I should even respond. I want to believe him. I’m desperate to believe him. Not only because it means I didn’t get all my future friends killed, but it means that we have a real hope of escaping this prison and putting a plan into motion. But he’s been playing the part of future, evil Kuzneski a little too well, and I’m not about to give up any incriminating information about myself, my plans, or the people with whom I’m conspiring.
“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that,” I tell him.
“You have a plan?” he asks.
“Honestly, I was thinking I’d hear Dr. Doom out,” I say, “and go from there.”
He looks displeased by that but says nothing. The two guards step closer, emanating an aura of Arctic impatience.
Kuzneski gives me another good shake and shouts, “Harper and Brown are dead because of you! Look at me sideways even once more, and I will shoot your ass dead.”
I’m stunned. “Is that true?”
“Mostly,” he says, lowering his voice again. “But they had it coming.” With that, he shoves me to the ground, laughing as I sprawl backward. Then he gives me a kick and says, “Move!”
The foyer of the research facility is exactly how I remember it, with a few modifications. The two-story space no longer has a reception desk. The front wall is all glass, looking out at the perimeter wall, and the mountainous view beyond.
After passing through the second set of double doors, I pause to look at the view. I’ve stood atop this peak more times in my life than most people. The view is familiar to me, but the mountains stretching into the distance are not… Well, not exactly. The topography is changing—shrinking really—but Adel is just as tall as ever, the lo
cal landscape no doubt preserved by Langdon’s experiment.
The rest of the foyer, as I saw it just yesterday, was corporate and sterile, neither pleasing nor offensive to the eye. It moved people in the direction they needed to go and served that singular purpose with the bare minimum of décor and furnishings. Now…it looks like the living room of a big game hunter, minus the mounted heads, though I suspect that might be something added later. A wall of exotic species from across time. How long before that mountain lion ends up on this wall, its fangs bared at the bald man sitting on the brown leather couch, facing the stone-encased, real, wood fireplace.
The fire fills the large room with intense warmth that sends a shiver through my body, as the temperature change burns my cheeks. The air is rich with the aroma of wood smoke. Birch, by the smell of it. Great for setting a mood, but the soft wood burns fast. Not the most efficient choice.
“I know what you’re thinking,” the bald man says. I can only see the back of his head, a dull orange glow atop his polished dome, reflecting from the warm, colored, recessed lighting above. But I recognize Langdon’s voice. “That a clean facility like this shouldn’t have a wood fireplace. That it will promote dust. That our experiments might be corrupted.”
I didn’t think any of that, but I say, “It crossed my mind.”
“Then you’ll be relieved to know that the days of experimentation have come to an end.”
Is he going to pull the plug on the collider? Park us in some predetermined time? I step around the faux country living room, complete with several comfy chairs, a braided rug, and an afghan over the back of the couch. Gas pops from the burning logs, making me flinch.
I’m on edge, expecting the worst.
What I find, as I round the couch, is…normal.
Future Langdon sits on the couch, cradling a cup of what I think is hot cocoa, a pair of plaid slippers on his feet. He’s dressed in flannel, smiling at the now sizzling fire. Aside from the lack of hair, he looks the same. Actually, he looks happy.
When I see the person seated in the tall chair beside the couch, I realize why. Jacqueline gives me a forced smile and turns her eyes down, ashamed to hold my gaze too long. She’s not being held prisoner. There are no chains binding her. But where could she go? How could she hope to change anything? And Langdon is her husband. He might not be the man she remembers, but she undoubtedly feels some responsibility for him.
Seeing the warm setting and Future Langdon’s comfort in it, I worry that this frigid wasteland might be our final destination.
“When are we going?” I ask, trying to sound more interested than revolted.
He cracks a wide smile. “How does the saying go? That’s for me to know, and you to find out. When we get there, of course. But it will be worth the risk and the sacrifice. The ultimate journey. The pinnacle destination.”
I glance back at Future Kuzneski, who shrugs and shakes his head. He doesn’t know either. Does anyone know?
Jacqueline does. The way she’s shrinking into her chair shows her hand. And it’s not good. But we’re already in a new dimension. Already lost in a time before our nation was born, perhaps before mankind reached North America. What difference will another hundred thousand or hundred million years make? The flora and fauna might change, but the fact that we are lost in time forever—that’s a done deal.
I don’t think he’ll give me an answer, so I drop the subject. My immediate concern is the protection of the people under my care, including generations of people occupying my home town. “Why am I here?”
“You work here,” he says, cracking a smile that no one else shares. He rolls his eyes. “So serious. Here’s the situation. You’re in a pickle. On the one hand, you’re a loyal company man who has proven himself competent. I have relied on you in the past, and hope to do so again. On the other, you’re a soldier looking for a cause, which I’ll admit I might have supplied for you. Part of you wants to throttle me right now…” He glances back at Kuzneski and the two guards, who have remained by the doorway. “I have no doubt you could break my neck before anyone could raise a hand against you.”
He’s right about that.
“But you won’t. Because doing so would jeopardize the lives of people for whom you care a great deal.” He takes a sip of hot cocoa, stands, and approaches the fireplace. “Heat is a glorious power. It gives life, and it takes it away. From it, all things were created, and by it, all things will be undone.”
“You’re losing me,” I tell him, thinking he sounds a bit more like a televangelist than a physicist.
“Pardon my philosophy,” he says. “How are your father and younger self settling in?” When I don’t answer, he says. “I also know of your affection for Cassie Dearborn, not to mention his—” He tilts his head toward Future Kuzneski. “—younger self. And let’s not forget about your beloved cesspool of a backward town. I wonder how many people are alive down there. I wager there’s a full-scale war between peoples, races, and generations. That is humanity’s way, after all. Stick to your own, kill what you don’t understand.”
He makes a popping sound with his lips and places his mug on the mantle. “There I go again. You asked a good question to which I provided an unsatisfactory answer. I must admit, I am so accustomed to being at odds with you that having a normal conversation is something of a challenge.”
He’s not hiding the fact that my future self is his enemy, which is interesting, but it also means he knows that I know. It occurs to me that there might be hidden cameras in the bunk rooms. That he heard everything we talked about. Or maybe Future Kuzneski—being the inside man he claims to be—watched the feed and briefed him, leaving out incriminating details?
I reckon I’ll never know, unless I allow this conversation to flow in the direction of Future Langdon’s choosing. I stay quiet and let him get to the point.
He steps up close to me, within reach. I could kill him... He’d barely have time to register my hands on his head before his neck snapped.
He stares into my eyes, daring me.
With each second he allows to pass, I relax a little bit more. Killing him right now would solve nothing. I know this. He knows this.
“We have an understanding, then?” he asks.
“We do.”
“Very good. I need your help with two problems.” I wait for him to continue, playing the good soldier. “The first is rather abstract. A mystery, in fact. The second, well, it’s one you are uniquely qualified to handle.”
“And that is?” I ask.
“You,” he says.
33
The cozy feeling of the foyer fades, the farther away I’m led. I recognize our path through the facility for the first few turns, but then I realize the floor plan has changed. The offices have been replaced by large, windowless rooms with solid steel doors. In fact, the place is almost built like a submarine. While drywall covers most surfaces, I’m pretty sure the underlying walls are solid steel, rather than wood.
Has it always been like this?
I’m not one to pay attention to construction techniques, but the solid steel element and giant bolts stand out. The building has been adapted, but for what? Time travel?
Future Langdon stops in front of an unmarked steel door with a thick latch holding it closed. “He’s in here.”
“I’m in there?”
“If you were the same man, we wouldn’t be standing here talking, would we?” He smiles, and I force myself to return it.
Don’t make it too easy, I tell myself.
“And if I do this for you?” I ask. “If I get you the answers you want? What do I get in return?”
He scoffs. “Well, your family to start.”
“And the other people being held?” I ask. “And anyone still alive in town?”
He squints at me. “What are you really asking?”
“They’re going to need someone to lead them. Someone to keep them alive whenever you end up taking us.”
His smile grows and
makes me uncomfortable. The Langdon I knew was a positive guy. He smiled a lot, but not like this. Future Langdon’s toothy grin is almost predatory. He’s closing in on his quarry, whatever it might be, and he’s willing to do anything to catch it.
Part of me wishes that he’d brought Jacqueline along. Whether he’s lost his mind or not, she’d temper his mania. Without her here, I have no idea what he’s going to ask me to do. But I’m pretty sure it’s going to be horrible for me.
For both of me.
“You want to what? Be president of Black Creek? Give birth to a new humanity in a world before mankind?”
His questions hint at how far back he intends to go, and it’s disconcerting to say the least. “Something like that,” I say. “You can stay here. Do whatever it is you’re doing. But let me help them survive. We’re in the past, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a future.”
“Ever the public servant.”
“Keeping people alive is my job.”
“Including me?”
“As long as you don’t kill people who pose no threat…yes.”
“I’m glad you said that.” He yanks the door’s latch, unlocking it. “Because the version of you behind this door is a threat. To me. To you. To everyone you just asked me to protect.”
“What do you want from him?”
“Answers,” Future Langdon says. “About his people. How many he came with, and which one of them is…enhanced.”
Enhanced? I have no idea what that could mean, but he clearly thinks my older self will.
He shakes his head and sighs. “Just get me details about his team.”
He pulls the door open and I barely notice the room.
All I can see is myself.
I step inside and for a moment, my mind says I’m looking in a mirror. But there are a few differences. Gray hair on the sides of his head, and his chin. There are a few scars on his shirtless body that I don’t yet have. And then there are the fresh wounds. The two that have been bandaged, on his shoulder and in his side, have the round blood stains of bullet holes. But the long straight cuts across his chest, the freshest of them still trickling blood down his stomach, are new.
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