Flux

by Jeremy Robinson

  We hurry on our way and leave the two men to their work. Langdon pushes through the exit, looks right, shouts, and dives to the ground. A tank drone careens through the air above him, crashing somewhere in the distance. Flores steps out behind him, scans the area, and yanks the man up by the back of his belt. “Move!”

  I step out under the dark purple sky already thick with stars, holding Owen around my waist again, handgun drawn and ready for action. A pair of guards—men I don’t know—rush toward us. Flores flinches at their approach, but I stop him with a hushed, “Wait!” The two men spot us and keep on moving. With Tsul’Kalu around, they’re not seeing us as a threat. And even if they did, I’m sure Langdon’s face would get us where we need to go. But the two men barely give us a second glance as they charge past. And then I see why.

  The building where we had been kept earlier has been partially destroyed. The people who’d been held within its brick walls are now emerging and scattering, fleeing the madness. I want to tell them to stop. To go back and keep a roof over their heads, but there are too many running in different directions. The only way I can help them is to stop the next flux.

  “Go, go, go,” I shout, following Langdon across an open courtyard.

  “Look out!” Owen shouts in my ear.

  Three drones fly past, just over our heads, zooming toward the raging battle. I follow their trajectory and spot Tsul’Kalu in the distance. He’s in motion, never slowing, taking hits and dealing out damage to people and machines alike. How much more can he take? How much more can Synergy?

  The giant’s eyes flick toward us for a moment, and I think he’s overlooked us, but then he double-takes and starts laughing again. The way he’s moving, he could be on us in seconds. But instead of charging, he lunges at a man trying to escape, grasping him around the waist and lifting him up. The man’s high-pitched scream makes me wince. Then the man is airborne, tossed with enough force to break bones and pop sockets loose. His ragdoll body pinwheels through the air, but he’s not dead. His scream rises in volume as he arcs up and falls toward us. Anger burns hot until the man slams into the concrete and slides to a stop at my feet. When I see his scarred face, round glasses, and wispy balding hair, my anger fades. Robles. As horrible as his death was, the torturer deserved worse.

  “We need to get inside!” I shout, setting Owen down and shoving him past the body.

  “Here!” Langdon says, bending over to unlock a side door with an ocular scanner. The keypad flashes green and the lock snaps open. He wrenches the door open and holds it for us while we file inside the foyer of the central science building.

  “Stop!” a guard on the interior shouts, already raising a pistol. Now that we’re inside and potentially identified by Langdon’s people, I don’t hesitate.

  My handgun clears its holster before the man finishes raising his weapon. I fire from the hip, striking him hard in the chest. His body armor saves his life, but the round hits like a rhino. The man topples to his back, gasping for air until Flores pistol-whips him into unconsciousness.

  “Oww,” Owen says, rubbing his ears.

  “Sorry,” I tell him.

  He nods.

  “Just stay behind me…” I look up at Cassie, “and you behind him.” When she nods, I look back at him. “You see me raise this…” I pat the gun. “You cover your ears.”

  He covers them now and says, “Got it!”

  “Why are you covering—” My question is cut short by two gunshots. I spin around to find Flores has just gunned down a second guard who’d just emerged from behind a corner. Unlike me, he aimed high, the first shot missing, the second catching the man’s head. While part of the man is blasted backward, the rest of him careens into a wall before crumpling to the floor.

  They definitely know we’re here, and like the men outside, Langdon is sending them to their deaths.

  “Next right!” the younger Langdon says from behind, guarded by Levi and no longer brave enough to take the lead.

  I take the turn and recognize where I am. The security center is just ahead. “Stay with them,” I say to Levi and Cassie before pointing at Flores. “With me!”

  I charge down the hall, weapon at the ready.

  When I kick in the door, the men inside barely notice. In part because they’re all wearing VR headsets and headphones, but also because they’re controlling the fleet of drones battling Tsul’Kalu. The guard Flores killed must have come from here…and Future Langdon is gone. Rather than interrogate the men, who I’d prefer keep trying to kill the giant, I poke my head out into the hall and wave the others in.

  “Try to find him,” I say, motioning to the wall of security feeds. We scour the images together, but find nothing. After a minute of searching, I lose my patience, yank the VR headset off the nearest operator, shove my gun between his eyes and say, “Where. Is. He?”

  The man’s nervous eyes flit around the room, looking for help, but all he finds is more people who look ready to throttle him. Then I realize he’s not looking at us, but at the security feeds. He points. “There!” The screen in question shows a solid metal door. Closed.

  “You know where that is?” I ask the younger Langdon. He shakes his head. I ask the operator the same question by glaring at him and pressing the gun harder.

  “P-penthouse,” he says, pointing up. “Top floor.”

  Penthouse? Top floor? Why the hell would Future Langdon be anywhere near the surface?

  Because it’s time…

  His endgame is nearly here.

  “When is it happening?” I ask, and I can see in the man’s eyes that he knows exactly what I’m talking about, even if he doesn’t really understand it.

  “Ten minutes,” he says.

  52

  The elevator leading up is slow, but thankfully devoid of muzak. As tense as I am, I think hearing a Kid Rock song played with an electronic keyboard would put me over the edge.

  “Think that was wise?” Flores asks.

  While the question is vague, I know exactly what he’s talking about. I allowed the security drone operator to not only live, but to return to his job. I knew it was possible that he would raise the alarm, but he’d been fighting Tsul’Kalu. No matter what we were up to, I could see in his eyes that he recognized the real threat. When I let him go, he pulled the VR mask back into place, wrested control of a tank-drone, and rejoined the assault.

  “You shouldn’t kill people if you don’t have to,” Owen says, and I’m proud of him. Despite his anger over our father’s death, he hasn’t lost his moral compass. Killing isn’t always the solution…then again, sometimes it is. Mercy has its place, but so does, on occasion, a bullet. And I’ve got at least one on reserve for Future Langdon…assuming he resists.

  And I expect him to.

  I don’t blame him for my father’s death. Not entirely. Without the flux, my father would have still died shortly after the next sunrise. But he has made pawns of thousands of people’s lives, resulting in the untimely demise of many who should have lived long lives, and the displacement of countless more. He needs to answer for this, and to be stopped before it gets worse.

  “Mmm,” Flores says to Owen. “We’ll see.”

  “Have you been up here?” I ask the younger Langdon. “Do you know what we should expect?”

  He shakes his head. “It must be a new addition. I’ve never lived at the facility. I’ve never even considered it. A penthouse hardly seems appropriate for a research facility.”

  “Maybe ‘Penthouse’ is a codename?” Cassie offers.

  Levi’s eyes widen with good humor despite the circumstances. “Like maybe it’s named after the magazine, and there’ll be a bunch of naked—”

  Cassie nudges him and tilts her head toward Owen.

  “—mole rats,” Levi finishes. “Naked mole rats. Nasty creatures.”

  “We saw a Penthouse in second grade,” I say.

  “I’m still trying to recover from that,” Owen says. “Stupid Nicky Mazzola.”
r />   “Ugh,” Cassie says. “Nicky Mazzola. He’s not in town, is he?”

  The three of us share a smile and then the elevator jolts to a stop. I push Owen behind me, and raise my weapon toward the opening doors. The hallway on the far side is short, straight, and empty, ending at a metal door with a biometric lock.

  “Huh,” Flores says. It’s not much, but I know what he’s thinking. With no guards and a single lock, Future Langdon either has an army of guards protecting him, has absolute faith in the strength of his door, or his endgame is too close to stop. Maybe all three.

  “Stay on my six,” I tell Owen.

  “Yep,” he says.

  Then we creep forward as a group, stopping in front of the door. It’s thick and metal, the kind of thing you’d expect to find on a submarine. In fact, that’s how nearly all the doors and hatches we’ve come across are. It’s like this whole place was designed to survive underwater, with each compartment able to be completely sealed off from those that have failed.

  A muffled explosion shakes the building. It’s followed by dull, automatic gunfire, the kind generated by handheld weapons.

  Tsul’Kalu has found a way inside the building, and as strong as the doors might be, they’re large enough for the giant to squeeze through. If he’s as smart as he is savage, he won’t have any trouble navigating the building. But will he come here? Is he even hunting us still?

  Questions to answer when Future Langdon is dealt with. I look over the biometric lock and am about to usher the younger Langdon to it when I’m struck by a sudden headache. I clutch my eyes shut and wince.

  I’m not alone.

  “What the hell is that?” Levi asks. “My head!”

  Owen clutches my hand, squeezing hard through the pain.

  A woman’s voice, shouting in pain, emerges from the door’s far side.

  “Jacqueline…” the younger Langdon says through clenched teeth.

  And then the pain subsides. I feel like my mind has been picked through and scrambled. It takes a moment to regain my senses.

  “What was that?” Cassie rubs her head, forcing herself to stand up straight again.

  “I—I don’t know,” the younger Langdon says. “But my wife is on the other side of this door.” He hurries toward the lock, but I catch his arm.

  “Hold on.” I turn to the others. “Everyone good?”

  They look like I feel, like they’ve been through a mental meat grinder, but Cassie, Levi, and Flores all nod. So does Owen. To Flores I say, “Clear front and then sweep left. I’ll take the right.” To Cassie and Levi, “You’re on precious cargo duty.”

  Cassie puts a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Like paper and glue.”

  “What sticks to me, sticks to you,” he finishes.

  Been a while since I heard or even thought about that little routine. I’m impressed Cassie remembers it.

  “I ain’t saying anything cutesy to you,” Levi tells the younger Langdon. “Just stay behind me and don’t do nothing stupid.”

  “Are you even trained to use that?” Langdon motions to Levi’s weapon. “Who is he?”

  “Prospective hire,” I say.

  “But I’m kinda glad I didn’t sign that liability paperwork yet,” Levi jokes.

  After releasing some tension with a smile, I release Langdon. “Do it.”

  While Langdon presses his finger against the print reader, and then leans down to have his iris scanned, Flores and I step up to the door, weapons raised and ready.

  The door thunks as it unlocks. It swings open without a sound. I step inside a large, open-concept space and sweep right. There’s a kitchenette and a dining area. Very modern. Very expensive. Sconces and floor lighting fill the broad space with a warm, orange glow, sunset held captive.

  I sweep back to center and spot the elder Langdon sitting in what looks like a futuristic lounge chair, his humorless gaze locked on me. I can only assume that the woman seated across from him is Jacqueline. Her back is to us.

  “Clear,” Flores says, and I look left. An open door leads to a decadent bathroom with tile floors, a two-person tub and what looks like it could be a waterfall shower.

  He’s planning to spend the rest of his life here, I think. Or was he living here in the future, under the watchful eye of his security forces, protected from future me?

  Flores and I lead the way forward, heading straight toward the elder Langdon, looking over our weapons’ sights, sweeping back and forth.

  “We’re alone. There’s no need for that.” Future Langdon waggles his hand toward our weapons.

  “Hands where I can see them,” I say.

  He raises his hands. “I’m unarmed.” He leans to the side and addresses Cassie. “Would you mind closing the door behind you?”

  “Shut-up,” I growl, weapon still aimed at his head.

  “I’m sorry about your father,” Future Langdon says. “Truly. Had you left him here—”

  Something in my shifting expression warns him that his next words might be his last. He purses his lips, but still looks unconcerned.

  “Are you okay?” the younger Langdon asks, rounding the chair in which his wife sits. Her reply is muffled by a gag in her mouth. Her cheeks are streaked with tears. She is an unwilling accomplice in all this. The younger Langdon peels the gag out of her mouth.

  “You’re too late,” she says. “He’s killed us all.”

  “Maybe,” Future Langdon says. “But the view will be grand.” He motions toward the ceiling, and I look up for the first time. The view above is all sky. Eight segments of domed glass converge at the pinnacle. It looks thick enough to hold back the ocean. The view of the nearly night-time sky is impressive, though the space’s warm lighting blots out much of the sky.

  “You need to stop it,” I tell Future Langdon.

  “Couldn’t if I wanted to,” he says. “And I don’t.”

  “What’s the point? Of any of this? You’re screwing with people’s lives. Tearing them through time.”

  “The point,” Future Langdon says, “is life.”

  “All we’ve seen is death,” Cassie says.

  He waves her off. “A temporary state. Soon, we will all be born again. Our bodies remade.”

  Is Future Langdon getting spiritual? Does he see himself as some kind of temporal cult leader? He could have done that from the future.

  “How far back are you taking us?” Flores asks. “Living here is going to be hard enough. Any further back and we’ll—”

  “All the way,” Future Langdon says. “We’re going all the way back to the moment when nothing became everything. We will bathe in the light of creation. Our DNA and all its flaws will be remade by the cosmos itself. All of us will bear witness to—”

  “You’re insane,” Levi says. “He’s insane. You can’t travel to the beginning of time! You can’t…” His voice trails off. Not even he is convinced by his argument. Because here we are, in the Cretaceous.

  “What would you do to save those you love?” Langdon asks, looking me in the eyes. “What have you done? To save your friends. To save your father—” He glances at Owen. “And yourself. I am sorry about your father’s demise, but if he could be saved—”

  “Get to the point,” I growl.

  “Like you, I would do anything to save the people I love.” He looks at Jacqueline. “To save the woman I love.” There are genuine tears in his eyes when he looks back at me. “You know what it’s like to lose people. You know that pain. But do you know what it’s like to watch cancer eat them alive? To be helpless in the face of their suffering? Because I do, and I will not allow that reality to exist. My wife will live, no matter the cost.”

  “You’re going to get us all killed,” I say.

  “No matter the cost.” He leans back in his chair, a measure of calm returning. “And can you think of a better way to die? At the beginning of time, witnessing events mankind has debated since we first contemplated where everything came from?”

  There is somethin
g romantic about the notion, but what good is dying at the start of everything? These people deserve to live. Deserve to wonder about how the universe began, at the marvel and mystery of it. The notion of creation has always intrigued me, in particular because, despite the schism between religion and science on the subject, there really is no schism at all. At one point, there was nothing, and then for reasons unknown, a force beyond comprehension unleashed all of reality. It’s the same story, and it’s good enough for me. I really don’t need to know the specifics.

  But I also recognize we don’t have a choice.

  I lower my gun.

  “What are you doing?” Cassie asks.

  “What can we do?” I ask.

  “He is right, of course,” Future Langdon says. “Had you reached the power station earlier, you might have marooned us in the past. But the batteries are fully charged and the wave is building.”

  “Even if we survive,” the younger Langdon says, “we will be lost in empty space, billions of years before our star is born and the solar system’s planets have been formed.”

  I look back at the solid door. It’s not only built like a submarine, but also like a space station. Holy shit, this whole place was designed to float in the vacuum of space!

  “How long do you think we will last? How much food do you have? How much air?” the younger Langdon is incredulous. He almost looks dangerous, face red, fists clenched. As much as I’d like to see him slug his elder self, it’s not going to help.

  “How long has it been?” I ask, turning to the others. “Since we left the security center?”

  Flores checks the watch on his wrist. The way his eyes widen tells me everything I need to know.

  “Tick tock,” Future Langdon says, and for the first time I really notice his chair. It’s modern, sleek, and padded like something a serious gamer would have, with two stark differences. It’s bolted to the floor. And it has a seatbelt.

  A klaxon blares outside, the volume of it dulled by the thick walls, but the warning it offers is clear: Get inside. Close the doors. This is it. The trouble with all that—and Future Langdon wouldn’t know this, being sequestered in his penthouse—is that Tsul’Kalu is also indoors.