Extracted (2 page)

When he hits the ground, I run toward the center so I can see all the other Hollows. “Come on, guys. New plan. Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em,” I yell. It’s our code for “this mission has gone to hell in a handbasket, so break off and rift out as soon as you can from wherever you can.” A few of them nod and reach into their pockets to grab the green Contra. As they swallow the pills, they begin to vanish, pulled into the time stream.

I run to the shore where the redheaded girl is on top of Stein, laying down blows, and a huge right hook puts me on my back. Groaning, I roll over and push myself up, but a big boot between my shoulder blades takes me back down.

“When did this become a two-on-one fight?” I ask, looking over my shoulder. A big guy, his ugly face smiling and dripping with blood, is looking down at me. A blond boy comes over and leans down.

“We gotcha,” he whispers as they pull me up from the ground.

I kick to no avail. The older guy, the only one I recognize, has grabbed one of my legs and the blond kid has the other and they are pulling me to the end of the dock. I keep kicking. I dig my fingernails into the wooden dock, but I’m stuck and there’s no way to stop them. Desperate now, I look for Nobel, but he’s holding his own against another new face.

I flip over on my back. The maneuver makes the older guy drop my leg. It’s just enough to help me, and I squirm free and jump to my feet. My shirt is soaked with my blood, and I start to move, but I see a girl. She’s running toward us, and the closer she gets…

I want to look away, but I’m frozen. The blond boy finds me again, holding me tightly. But I can’t make myself move.

In the back of my head, I hear sounds. A girl laughing. Gunfire. Screaming. Bright speckles explode like grenades in my vision, and for a minute, everything is white, but the white fades fast. It’s replaced by a wave of calm emptiness. The blackness creeps slowly into the periphery of my vision and flows like black ink across my pupils. Fighting against the darkness, I blink, shaking my head until I’m dizzy.

Someone’s on the two guys, pounding the one I tripped earlier and pulling the blond one off me. I know it’s my people—know I’m supposed to rift out after everyone else—but my head is swimming. I reach for the Contra in my pocket, feel it in my fingers, but then it slips from my grasp and falls between the slats in the dock.

I look over just before everything goes dark. Stein rolls away from her attacker—the blond boy she pulled off me. She quickly reaches into her pocket and swallows her green Contra. When she vanishes, I feel only relief. I might die here, and it’s good that she won’t be here to see it.

I fall to my knees. My mind is going blank. Nobel’s masked face is close to mine. He slaps me. I think he calls my name. His greasy fingers shove the smooth Contra pill far into my throat. My eyes close, and all I have to do is swallow.

I will not die in this hideous dress. That’s my only desire today. Everything else is negotiable—icing on the cake.

Ignoring the too-tight bodice and itchy fabric, I take a deep breath, drawing my focus inward until I feel razor sharp. Now I’m no longer part of the crowd milling through the fair, but above it, outside it. The faces spin around me, but I’m disconnected from them. Searching. Slowly, the hyperawareness fades as my heartbeat calms and my breathing regulates.

“Tesla,” Ethan says, “time and date verification.”

The thick, not-quite-mechanical voice of our leader responds, “Location verified. Six point nineteen, eighteen and ninety-three, nine hundred hours.”

“Target verification?” Kara asks, wiggling her pinky in her ear like there’s water in it rather than a small mechanical device.

“Target verified,” he answers. “Dr. Klaus VonWeitter. Assignment: prevent theft of Solara Project designs.”

“Tesla, are you sure about this?” Ethan asks, scanning the crowds around us. “I don’t see any Hollows here.”

“Confirmed. The timeline alteration algorithm has traced the ripples back to this event. They are here, somewhere. The timeline has been altered.”

Ethan nods, looking over at me. I have to admit, he looks ridiculously handsome in his costume today. The black-striped slacks and the long grey jacket that trails down his back make him look older than usual. The grey is drab, but his blue eyes are startlingly bright. He’s also wearing a matching bowler hat and carrying a cane, which is the only accessory I’ve ever seen him demand. I reach up to adjust his white bowtie.

“Bowties are sexy,” he says with a wicked grin.

“Just because you keep saying it doesn’t make it true,” I respond, no humor in my voice. Normally his quips would make me smile, but not today. I’m on edge, though I’m not sure why. Maybe my historically-accurate panties are in a bunch.

This isn’t my first mission. In fact, it’s not even a particularly difficult one. The Solara plans aren’t exactly nuclear launch codes. I’m not sure why the Hollows want them so badly, except to create chaos. What could be so special about a rough solar collector? Nothing—it’s the rush, the thrill of the chase. They’re little better than feral cats. Still, if they want it, then we can’t let them have it. Our job is as simple as that. But the tiny hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. The air around me feels thick, as if the world is holding its breath. Glancing over at Kara, I wonder if she feels it too. Her expression is serene, if a little pale. The light dusting of freckles over her nose is more noticeable than normal and her eyes are rimmed with red. Late-night training again, no doubt.

Somewhere in the back of my head, a version of my own voice reminds me that this might very well be my last mission. The Trial is coming up, and it’s either pass or die. We’ve all been logging extra time in the gym and on the books. Well, everyone but Ethan. I wish I had half of his confidence. He’ll pass even if none of the rest of us do; I’m sure of that, though not fully comforted by it.

I shove the thought away, fighting to stay focused. Doubt never accomplishes anything, as Mistress Catherine likes to say.

Draping one arm over my shoulder, Ethan gives me a quick, reassuring hug. “Relax, Ember. We aren’t defusing a nuclear bomb. We’re just here to keep one nerdy scientist safe. How hard can it possibly be?”

I sigh. “I really hate it when you do that.”

“Do what?” he asks innocently.

Read my mind. “Beg for trouble.”

He grins widely as a pair of elderly gentlemen brush past us and shoot Ethan a glance that clearly screams “inappropriate behavior.” For a moment, even I’d forgotten how far back we’d traveled—how far away from our home back at the Tesla Institute. No, in this time, people simply didn’t show amusement or familiarity. It was rude. The way Ethan steps back from me, cooling his expression, makes me eager to leave 1893 in the rearview mirror.

He shakes his head, falling back into mission mode. “We’re only going to get one shot at this. Are you ready, Kara?”

“I think this dress is trying to kill me,” Kara complains, tripping forward as she steps on the long hem.

I can’t help smirking. “Be thankful they aren’t wearing the bustles anymore. Good luck getting off a decent roundhouse kick in one of those.”

She smoothes her hands down the front of her pink-and-brown dress, then smacks at the puffy sleeves. I withhold a snicker.

Squaring my shoulders, I raise my chin to the bright midday sun. It’s cool today for mid-June, and a light breeze caresses my face. That’s a good thing. These dresses are heavy, tight, and not at all like our usual clothes. Beside me, Kara curses and fights to tuck stray wisps of her deep red hair into its coil at the back of her neck.

“So, where do we find this guy?” Kara asks, glancing around.

“Current location unknown,” Tesla’s voice cuts in again.

“Oh, great. Some supercomputer you are,” she mumbles under her breath. Then, louder, she asks, “Where’s Flynn? I feel the need for some serious adult supervision.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Ethan takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. Something’s wrong. I can feel it in my gut.”

“Is that intuition or heartburn? We did just eat our weight in chili dogs,” I ask, though I know better than to question his gut. It tends to be dead right.

“Chicago Dogs,” Kara corrects me.

Yes. The taste of peppers lingers somewhere in the back of my mouth, making me wish I’d smuggled in some gum. Still, it’s probably the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. The Institute has us on strict diets of protein powder and gross, organic, tofu-based foods. Various food vendors lined the entrance to the fair, so when we saw the dog cart, no way were any of us going to pass them up. The fact that we aren’t still glutting ourselves is a testament to our self-control. Though, if everything goes well, we might just make a pit stop before we rift back home.

“Focus. Get on point,” Tesla commands through the earbuds.

Kara and I exchange a frown before the three of us shift to stand back-to-back and scan the crowd. Beside me, I feel Ethan tense. The way he can transition from fun, playful Ethan into leader Ethan is unsettling and as quick as snapping your fingers. His entire demeanor changes when he’s on point—even his voice is different.

“Let’s split up,” Ethan decides, pointing. “Kara, you head over to his booth at the main convention center. I’ll take the east side, and Ember, you take the west. We’ll meet up by the pier. Anyone runs into trouble, have Tesla put out a call to the rest of the team.”

I don’t like it. I’m feeling jumpy, which isn’t like me at all. Maybe it’s just nerves, or maybe I just don’t like the idea of being separated from them. Either way, I don’t say anything. Ethan and Kara have been with me over a year—since the day I was recruited—and I trust them with my life a hundred times over.

Without a word, we go our separate ways. I’m weaving through the crowd when I spot something—a girl about my age in a tall, black top hat and a long, fitted, leather trench coat. I catch a glimpse of her as she moves past the Zoopraxographical Hall. Her dark hair is tucked up into the hat, exposing a trail of green chevron tattoos down the back of her neck. I bite my lip.

She’s one of them. A Hollow.

The man at the ticket booth, next to the theater entrance, can’t take his eyes off her. Staring, he continues to issue tickets from behind a glass window to the showing on the small screen. Glue-plastered announcements on the exterior brick walls advertise the moving picture as “The Science of Animal Locomotion.” The top hat girl has her back to me and is leaning against the doorjamb, her arms folded across her chest.

She’s pretty, if not a bit overdone. Her eyes are ringed in dark kohl liner, and her lips are a deep red. She’s got tight black pants on under the jacket, and there are belts and straps around her waist and down her thighs. She’s out of place, though, and people whisper behind her back. Most of the women in this time are wearing floor-length, high-necked day dresses and corsets. This girl looks like Goth Barbie. She didn’t even bother to remove the silver hoop from her eyebrow.

I glance around, looking for more Hollows, but don’t see any. That’s strange. They normally travel in packs. Maybe, if she hasn’t made me out as a Rifter, I can just follow her and she’ll lead me to the others. It seems like the smartest plan. All I have to do is keep my mouth shut.

“Nice costume,” she mutters, not looking at me.

So much for being stealthy.

“Thanks,” I say.

“I hope it’s not a rental.”

Before I can react, she’s spinning. The heel of her boot connects with my lower back and sends me sprawling to the earth. She’s on top of me in a heartbeat, pressing my face to the ground.

She leans forward and whispers, “Tesla is here, did you know that? Not your Tesla, of course, but the Tesla from this time. He’s fifty yards away, giving a demonstration of his brilliant little coils. It would be so easy for me. The flip of a switch, a misplaced bucket of water. I could end this whole thing right now.”

I can hear the smile in her voice as she grinds my face in the dirt. “Oh. But don’t worry. I won’t. Not this time. That’s not what we’re here for.”

She is quick to her feet. Lifting me up by my hair, she hurls me forward, into the theater. We surge through the doors to a chorus of shushing. But as soon as the people turn to see the commotion, they are fixated on her. It’s not just the strange wardrobe that has people spellbound. She is radiating power and deadly beauty. It’s almost hypnotic. Even I can feel it.

I am so out of my league.

Standing in the aisle, I spit out the blood pooling in my mouth. I look at our audience and wipe my mouth on my sleeve, earning me a look of disgust from the people who are staring.

The crowd lets out a gasp.

“You mean you can’t kill Tesla,” I counter, my voice barely more than a whisper. “You can’t because you’d risk unraveling your own timeline.” I crouch down. She kicks me and I manage to block the blow, but the momentum sends me back to the ground with a sharp pain in my forearm.

“Sometimes, I think it might be worth it,” she says, her voice dripping with bitterness as she makes her way over to me. People are standing now, demanding she stop. The women are ushering the children to the opposite exit. One man puts a hand on her shoulder, but she grabs his arm, twisting it behind his back with a loud snap before tossing him aside. “So, are we going to do this the hard way or—who am I kidding? There’s really just the hard way.”

I leap forward, catching her off guard with a punch to the face. A satisfying crunch tells me I’ve broken her nose. She stumbles backward but doesn’t fall. The back few rows of people are abandoning their seats and running for the exits.

She smiles, and the blood runs down her lip into her mouth, turning her teeth pink. Then she lunges. This time I’m better prepared for it and manage to duck the blow while coming up and landing a blow of my own to her ribs. She gasps but spins again and kicks out at me. I roll backward and spring to my feet.

“You’ve got some moves, I’ll give you that, Tesla Girl,” she says, readjusting her hat.

“How is that thing still on your head?” I blurt out, gasping for breath.