Decoherence (27 page)

Sunday May 19, 2069.

That wouldn't work at all. He'd seen the red-­haired woman in this iteration in 2070. She had to be within a few hundred miles of the machine, but he wasn't going to wait another year for her to appear. She belonged to him. They were happy together. He needed—­

Donovan turned at the sound of voices.

“And someone's here.” That was MacKenzie.

“I've got a really bad feeling about this, Mac.”

Donovan's nostrils flared as he heard Rose's voice. The cadence was wrong, but it was her. She'd followed him. She wasn't dead.

He watched MacKenzie shoulder the door open. The other man swore at the sight of the girl on the floor, and looked up too late.

Donovan was already running down the hall to the jump room. They weren't taking him back to Prime.

S
am ran to Melody, but Mac pulled her back.

“We can't touch. We can't disturb anything here. And we can't stay here. Melody's body was flung back in time. We either need to get to the machine or get out of range before Donovan turns it on.”

A square tile lifted up and floated to the body.

“Cleaning bots,” Sam said. “Why didn't we think of that the first time? There was no blood because the cleaning bots tidied everything up. Melody must not have triggered the alarm.”

“No alarm, no police, and no reason for the bot to leave a foreign liquid on the floor.” Mac said. “The bots were fried, so we didn't have any logs to check.”

“Because of a power outage. We thought that came before the break-­in, but it must be coming.”

“Or not be coming at all. Things are definitely changing.”

Bosco barked angrily.

“Our cleaning bot has friends,” Sam said. “Gotta love security bots.”

MacKenzie swore as the dark gray cylinders vacated their charging spots on the wall and moved toward them. “We need to leave.”

Sam knew the hall. She'd walked through the rubble the morning after this incident. It hadn't happened yet, though. “Mac . . .” Sam stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “In case this doesn't work out. I'm sorry about dragging you into this. I love you.”

He kissed her back. “We'll be fine. Stay here while I take care of Donovan.”

She crossed herself as he went, hoping no one else died tonight. Except for Donovan. She was not going to cry any tears if he wound up dead. If they'd arrived ten minutes earlier, Melody Chimes could have lived to finish college.

She let out a sharp whistle, and Bosco appeared, trotting through the trailing security bots, who were trying to figure out what he was. “Bosco,” she said, pointing at the lead bot, “pee.”

Tongue lolling out of his mouth, he lifted a leg and peed on the bot.

The others went crazy. It was a flaw in the programming. If the module leader was incapacitated, they fell apart like a hill of ants on acid. Circuits fried, the bots started stabbing each other, and when the cleaning bots came in, there was a merry war.

“Sam!” Mac shouted.

Sam snapped her fingers to call Bosco over. “We're here.”

Emir's workroom was empty. The machine quiet.

“What happened?” Sam asked. “Where's Donovan?”

“I don't know. I searched the place. There are no exits, and the machine wasn't on.”

Sam walked in and kicked the door shut behind Bosco.

Mac peered around her, looking out through the lab windows, which were about to be blown to smithereens. “What did you do?”

“Security bots in medical research facilities have a limited AI, but they can detect hazardous materials. They self-­destruct if they sense ammonia or urea. Call it a fatal flaw.” She smiled at him. “Don't worry, the cleaning bots will pick up everything. By morning, it will be nothing but fried bots and no organic trace materials for the crime lab.”

“That is a major design flaw,” Mac said, his horrified look turning to a grin as a security bot was flipped over by a cleaner and squirted with cleaning solvent.

“They get recalled in September.” Sam looked around. “I kind of want to leave myself a note.”

“Don't,” Mac warned. He pointed at something on the screen. “Here, what's this?”

“Donovan was doing calculations,” Sam said, scrolling down the screen. “These are similar to the Fountain Variance Calculations Henry did to get me to the Prime. When the iterations run too close together, there's, um, basically friction sparks, I guess? Little bursts of energy that create side portals. Henry figured out how to calculate where they were and which iteration they would lead to. Donovan must be looking to use one near here.”

Bosco bumped Sam's leg and whined.

She looked around. “Mac?”

“What?” He was walking toward the other computer station. “We've almost got this figured out.”

“Where's the light coming from?” None of the overhead lights were on, but the room was glowing. Lit up and bright as day. Or as bright as a portal.

Warm air circled her legs. “Mac?” He was across the lab. A few meters, but now it felt like miles.

He looked up in horror.

“Come back!” Sam screamed.

Mac was already running, closing the distance . . .

“Mac!” Her scream was swallowed by the portal, giant and terrifying. He was a shadow, a blue-­gray figure on an expanding horizon. All around her was the white-­hot fury of a portal collapsing and moving everything but her.

 

CHAPTER 42

“You only have one chance to get today right.”

~ Elosia Travkin I3—­2061

Wednesday April 2, 2070

Florida District 8

Commonwealth of North America

Iteration 2

I
vy was almost certain she'd been sent to the abandoned town of Eldora to get her out of the way.

Agent Rose's house had been attacked. Agent MacKenzie was injured, there was a dog in the hospital, and Gant and Donovan were still tearing a trail through the quietest district in Florida. If the bodies were any indication, they'd been steadily working their way south. Killing a college student for his car and laptop, then breaking into the apartment of Henry Troom and Devon Bradet, then assaulting a biker outside the Gator Trap . . . that had seemed to break the chain of attacks. Something there had changed things, but repeated visits—­all which involved Agent Edwin trying to get her to eat a fried-­gator sandwich—­hadn't turned up anything useful.

Gant was obsessed. Donovan was angry. Together, the pair became a nigh-­on unstoppable force.

Half of Florida's CBI agents were in town now. They were fussing over Agent Rose and edging the police out. Ivy knew there were things she wasn't allowed to know, things too classified for the CBI to share with the local police, but she wished they weren't so obvious about it.

It felt deliberately insulting.

She tugged at her half-­broken radio and hoped it worked. “Dispatch, this is Officer Clemens. I am pulling into the second parking area on River Road going south. There's a light there.”

Probably a fisherman coming in late. She'd write a fine and continue driving the loop down to River Trace Lane, east on Eldora Road, then south on AIA to South Road, and back north on the mazing stretch of River Road. Again.

“Acknowledged,” the dispatch said, voice cracking as the radio Gant had broken lost its connection again. “Check-­in—­” The voice was cut off.

Ivy stuffed the radio back down in its patch and checked the charge on her phone: thirty percent and no signal.
Of course.
She was in a ghost town. Having cellphone ser­vice was probably listed under “unnecessary human encroachment on wild habitat” because the local protestors thought sea turtles were confused by cellphone towers.

Cursing protestors, tourists, and ­people in general, she grabbed her flashlight and the gun Miss MacKenzie had given her months ago from under her seat. One close call with these bastards was enough. There was playing by the rules, and there was being smart. And when it came to tromping around abandoned buildings in the swamps, she'd learned her lesson.

Anyone who jumped out at her tonight was getting a warning shot in the kneecaps.

Exiting the car, she took a moment to soak in the beauty of the night. Over the inland estuaries, the clouds were grumbling and spitting lightning. Here, she stood outside the storm. The stars were bright and clear in the black sky. Tree frogs were singing to welcome the first warm week as the harbinger of spring. The scent of magnolia blossoms mixed with the brine of the brackish river and aroma of sea grass from the dunes on the other side of A1A. It was the perfect night for a stroll on the beach.

Too bad she was on the riverside looking for fish guts and drunks.

Ivy sighed and flicked on her flashlight. The parking lot had two older cars that had been abandoned the year before and still not towed. Eventually, someone was going to break them down for parts and save the city a few hundred dollars. Or maybe they'd get washed away in the next hurricane.

She pointed her light at the water. Then, realizing that finding a light with a light wasn't going to work, she turned it off. A crescent moon spilled silver moonbeams over gentle waves. A bat swooped past her ear, clicking.

New Smyrna Beach was a gentle glow on the northern horizon. The next nearest city to the south was Port Canaveral, and she was certain there wasn't a launch scheduled from the space center. Which left only bioluminescent algae or humans as the cause of the glow that had attracted her attention, and it was the wrong season for glowing blue waves.

She gave up on the idea of stealth. “Hello?” Her voice carried over the water and was lost in the mangals.

“Hello.” The voice that floated back through the darkness filled her with terror.

Ivy pulled the strange gun out of the shoulder holster. “Donovan?”

“I came back for you. Even though you ran away.” He stepped out of the shadow of a palm tree. In the moonlight, he was a broken man made of a sharp, jagged darkness and ghostly-­pale skin.

She stepped back as her heart rate sped up. “You are under arrest.”

“No. I'm not. You can't arrest me. You can't hurt me. You belong with me.
To
me. This is my future.”

He fell backward on the ground, and Ivy stared for a long, breathless moment before realizing she'd raised the gun and fired.

In the silence, the radio in her car crackled. She needed to check in. In a daze, she walked back to the car. “This is Officer Clemens checking in.”

“You find anything?” dispatch asked.

Ivy stared at the body lying on the sand, waves lapping his shoes as the tide came up. “I've found Donovan. He . . . he attacked me. I shot him.” She lifted the gun so the starlight sparkled on the barrel. “He's dead.”

“We have an ambulance en route,” dispatch said. “Were you injured?”

“No. No, I'm fine.” She dropped the gun on the seat and sat down. Clones couldn't kill in self-­defense. All she could hope for was that the court believed she was human.”

 

CHAPTER 43

“You only have one chance to get today right.”

~ Elosia Travkin I3—­2061

Thursday April 3, 2070

Fort Benning, Georgia

Commonwealth of North America

Iteration 2/ The Nova Prime

D
irector Loren watched the live feed of Agent Rose's exit with a frown. Agent MacKenzie had gone with her, just as the file said.

Now he was waiting for the second event. Or for death. He wasn't sure what that would look like. How it would feel if he suddenly ceased to exist because this iteration failed. The notes hadn't been helpful.

It was a quarter to five in the morning, and he was losing hope. The machine was crippled. The silence of the facility was daunting. But better the sepulcher silence than the screams of ­people dying because he told them to hold the line against the impossible.

He must have drifted off to sleep because a barking dog jolted him awake. The sun was barely warming the horizon, which meant it couldn't be much past seven. Loren stretched, stood, and opened the door.

There, two frazzled agents and a dog were trying to open the barricaded door. “Agent Rose.”

She turned slowly. “Director Loren?”

“You look worse than when I last saw you.”

“Which was when, sir?” She stepped closer. This Rose was older, a little beaten, and perhaps a little more fragile-­looking. She wasn't yet the cold woman he'd seen in his office, and she wasn't the young woman he'd seen rush through the portal a few hours earlier.

With an enigmatic smile, he pointed two fingers at Agent MacKenzie and Agent Rose. “You two, into my office.”

The dog followed after, looking cheerful despite the hunted looks of the two agents.

“Cute dog. Is this Hoss?” Loren asked as he held the door open for them.

The dog licked his hand and went to sit beside Rose.

“Hoss was shot, sir. I picked up Bosco five years ago in Australia.” She opened her mouth. Shut it. Shook her head. “Sir, I don't think I can explain.”

“We could try,” MacKenzie offered. “You just won't like what we have to say.”

“I'm aware of that,” Loren said, retaking his seat. “Two days ago, a woman broke into my office leaving a file and a mild threat. I let things play out. And you did exactly as she predicted, Agent Rose. You left the bureau and broke into a government facility.”

Agent Rose winced. “It seemed like the only choice at the time, sir. I'm fairly certain I'd make it again.”

“You did,” he confirmed. “Both of you went through the portal. It's damaged. I'm told it might not be repairable, but it was enough to tether you. Which leaves us with two problems.”

“Whether or not to arrest us?” Rose guessed.

Loren nodded. “And what to do with Hoss. You, that is the Agent Rose who just left, gave custody of Hoss to Agent MacKenzie, who left a timed note to me telling me to take care of the dog.”

“Hoss!” Agent Rose smiled for the first time. “I'll take him back.” She caught herself. “That is, if you aren't arresting us.”

“We have a house in Australia,” MacKenzie said suddenly. “We could go back there. We're legal citizens. We'll tell the neighbors we had a vacation, and that will be the end of it. No more intrusions. No more questions. It wouldn't hurt anyone.”

“He has a point,” Rose said with an eager nod. “We both resigned. If you don't tell anyone we came here, then there's no reason to arrest us.” Her smile was pathetically optimistic.

Loren leaned back in his chair. “Australia sounds nice.”

“The house is in Cannonvale,” Rose said. “You could visit if international tensions ever eased up.”

He shook his head. “I can't let you go. Not back to Australia, at least. Your resignations are denied.”

“What?” Rose demanded, standing up. “Do you know what hell I've just been through? They kidnapped my husband. They ruined my life. I am done playing nice. I am going home, with my husband and my dog. I already saved everyone from their mass stupidity.
Twice.
That's my lifetime limit.”

Loren laughed.

Rose's shoulders sagged. “Why are you laughing?”

“You said almost the same thing when you came to the office two days ago. You said we were about to go up in a pile of smoke and stupidity.”

She looked at MacKenzie, then back at him with a shrug. “Well, I wasn't wrong. You almost did.”

MacKenzie tugged on her hand, and she sat back down.

“Love, I think what Director Loren might be suggesting isn't returning to Australia or being arrested.” The quiet man raised an eyebrow. “You have something else in mind?”

“A new assignment,” Loren said. “For a new branch of the CBI. We haven't named it yet, but Dr. Troom is willing to work with us.”

“Henry survived?” Rose sounded a little surprised. “I was worried about how his run-­in with Gant would go.”

Loren raised an eyebrow. It would be very interesting to hear what history these two remembered. “Dr. Troom survived. Gant is in jail. Donovan, Gant's companion, was shot last night while attacking a police officer named Ivy Clemens. The CBI agent in charge, that would be you, Rose, ruled it an accidental misfire on the part of Donovan. Officer Clemens isn't facing consequences.”

“I know her,” Rose said. “She's a smart woman. The force is lucky to have her, and the bureau would be better if we could steal her away.”

“Yes.” He drummed his fingers on the table as a theory formed. “You don't know where she got a gun, do you? She's a clone, and it's a very strange weapon.”

Rose's face suddenly became still and expressionless as glass. “I can't imagine where that weapon came from, sir.”

“You're a very bad liar, Agent.”

“It's been a very long day, sir. A long series of bad days, even.”

He smiled. “I'll get to the point then. You're being reassigned, effectively immediately. I'm not giving you a choice.”

“Where are you going to set up the labs to test and control this?” MacKenzie asked. “There's no safe place in the Commonwealth. The MIA is explosive. And it's an open invitation for trouble. We're better without it.”

“We're opening a new lab in the interior of Alaska,” Loren said. “There's nothing but tundra for hundreds of miles. Anyone who wants to try invading can deal with the arctic weather.”

Rose shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

“It's not a bad idea,” MacKenzie argued. “They can't injure anyone this way.”

“It's a terrible idea! Alaska is not Airlie Beach. It's not Cannonvale. It's not warm.” Her words had the cadence of a familiar argument.

“We can arrange for you to have a home in Hawaii, on one of the smaller islands,” Loren said. “I've already looked into it.”

Rose kept shaking her head. “Our stuff is in Australia. My good wedding ring is there!”

He considered the problem. “I can offer to work on our relations with Australia?” Loren shrugged. “That's the best I have at the moment.”

“I'll get you another ring,” MacKenzie said, reaching for her hand.

Loren hid a smug smile. He'd guessed right. The bureau could be a demanding mistress, but sometimes the demands built strong ­couples. Friends or lovers, it didn't matter. He'd built both kinds of relationships over the years, and it was gratifying to see that the two ­people he needed on the upcoming project were already committed to each other.

“Take it as a win, Sam,” MacKenzie said in a soft voice. “We're alive. We're together. We have jobs. This beats anything else that could have happened. We can't just go back to Australia and pretend nothing happened. You couldn't leave the CBI alone when we were there, and things were calm. Let's take this, run with it. We can make it work.”

She sighed. “Fine. I hate this idea, but fine.” She glared at Loren. “Are you coming to freeze to death with us?”

Loren sighed. “Sadly, yes. My family and I will be relocating up there in about two months. The bureau wouldn't let me recommend starting a new branch unless I was willing to take full responsibility for it. I considered the limited range of options and decided I could handle this. After all, retirement is only four years away.”

S
am let Mac take Bosco's leash as they walked into the Georgia sunshine. “I think my car is still parked somewhere nearby. We can go find some food. Check in to a hotel and get some sleep.”

“And you still have the place in Florida.”

“You still have the one in Chicago,” she said. She closed her eyes as her brain sprinted ahead of her, gathering problems. She groaned. “Two weeks to pack isn't enough. I don't even know if I want to go back to the Florida apartment.”

“We ought to at least check in on everyone.”

Sam wrinkled her nose. “Let's save that for later in the week. I need to read my emails before I try to talk to Brileigh, or this whole operation is going to be declassified faster than you can say ‘gossip.' ” She leaned on Mac's shoulder. “Don't hate me, but I think I'm going to miss the tourists. Cannonvale was boring, but it was a good kind of boring. You know? Nothing we did changed the future of the world. I like easy choices like that.”

Mac wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “I know. But we'll be okay. We've been through worse.”

She smiled up at him. “There's one big question that you haven't thought of yet.”

“Oh? What's that?” Mac asked as he stole a kiss.

“Where are we having the wedding?”