Reversion (The Narrows of Time Series Book 3) (43 page)

His eyes returned to the scene in front of him and spotted his mom’s purse sitting by the toaster on the kitchen counter. There were probably car keys inside, and he was already a pro at stealing women’s keys.

A chance came to move down the hallway undetected when all the men in the room had their heads turned. He took it, circling around to the unguarded entrance to the kitchen on the right. He crawled on hands and knees while the men’s eyes were focused elsewhere, scooting into the kitchen behind the center island. His hand went up and felt around for the purse. He found it.

Once it was locked in his fingers, he pulled it down from the counter, praying none of the cops saw his covert maneuver. He paused for a minute to listen and verify. The conversation in the other room hadn’t changed. He figured he was safe and peered around the island. All heads were turned the other way, allowing him to crawl back to the hallway with the purse hanging from his mouth. A minute later, he was back in the room where baby Lucas was now sleeping.

He dug through the purse and found a set of keys. The key chain said Lincoln. He put the purse down quietly and opened the bedroom window. It only took a second to push the screen out before grabbing the sleeping kid, who fell limp in his arms. He climbed outside and ducked behind a bush to check for sentries. There were none. Perhaps the rest of the invaders were out front and not on perimeter watch since the Chapmans had been secured inside. Then again, the men wouldn’t want to raise suspicion with the neighbors, so a low-profile presence would have been wise. He may not have to fight his way through a gauntlet of men after all.

A slight grin fell on his lips, realizing his simple escape plan might work. Like Professor Kleezebee used to say, sometimes the easiest solution is the hardest to find.

Keep it simple. One step at a time.

He needed to work his way around to the garage and slip in through the main door on the side. Mom drove a Lincoln, which in 1984 was a heavy sedan. It should make an excellent getaway vehicle. He needed it to be full of gas and parked in the garage. Otherwise, this would be the shortest escape attempt of all time.

Lucas peered over the fence from the side yard to check if there were any men out front. He could only see a small portion of the front yard, but didn’t see anyone, and there weren’t any vehicles on the driveway leading to the street. He used his mother’s keys to gain entry to the garage through the side door. A four-door, lime-green Lincoln Town Car was parked inside. It was spotless and looked brand-new.

The dome light had been left on, allowing him to see inside before opening any of its doors. He prayed the battery hadn’t been drained completely, otherwise the starter wouldn’t receive enough cold cranking amps to turn the engine over. A child seat had been installed behind the front passenger seat, much as he expected. In fact, he’d counted on it.

He opened the door and put baby Lucas in the car seat in the back and strapped him in, taking extra care to ensure a snug fit for the rough ride ahead. He was amazed the kid was still asleep—out like a light. He couldn’t remember ever sleeping that hard, at least not since he was dumped off at the state home as a preschooler. Danger had a habit of finding him, so he had slept with one eye open in his bunk. It was a tough habit to break, even after the Ramsay family took him in a few years later. If he was lucky enough to get four or five hours of actual sleep, he was usually good to go in the morning. Though perpetual tiredness did have a tendency to make him a little cranky.

He was about to walk around to the driver’s seat when something occurred to him. What if this child wasn’t him? What if it was some random red-haired little boy whose name just happened to be Lucas? It wouldn’t be the first time the universe had tricked him. He needed to know for sure before he risked his life and humanity’s future. There wasn’t time or the equipment for a DNA test, and he couldn’t compare fingerprints with a child. So only one choice remained—his birthmark.

It didn’t take much for his fingers to peel down the side of the diaper, allowing him to check the baby’s hip. There it was, right where it should be—a random splotch of skin discoloration that looked like a wrinkled koala bear. The test was conclusive. This child was him, and the people being tortured inside were his parents.

He couldn’t risk waiting for the garage door to open on its own. The men outside would react instantly, surrounding the car before he could step on the gas. His only choice was to gun the engine in reverse and smash through the aluminum door, then spin a one-eighty and make a run for it. His plan would put baby Lucas in danger, but he didn’t have a choice. The safety seat needed to do its job.

The Town Car’s seats were a gray leather—soft and plush. His butt nestled in, appreciating the comfort and fit of a true luxury car. He used the power controls to push the seat back to make room for his legs. He’d obviously gotten all his height from his old man since Mom was a shorty, having to sit so close to the steering wheel and pedals.

He put his forehead against the top of the steering wheel, taking a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. He had a plan in mind, but it was going to take everything he had to make it work. The number of men out front was an unknown, and so was their reaction. Would they fire their weapons or simply try to block his exit? He figured they’d give chase regardless, but it would take them a minute to run to their cars and begin pursuit. Once he had a head start, he’d need to find a way to give them the slip.

“Evasive maneuvers” was one of his favorite tag lines from
Star Trek
. That’s precisely what it was going to take to get away unscathed. He was planning to send help back for his parents, assuming he had a chance to do so. If not, they were on their own. If time was watching him and making corrections to his actions, then they were probably dead anyway. Baby Lucas was his one and only priority. It was a new twist on the old saying, take care of yourself first.

He looked at himself in the rearview mirror, summoning all his resolve. It worked. He was now ready, and so was a snoring baby Lucas in the backseat.

The eight-cylinder engine seemed to start on its own. Its powerful howl made his body react, moving the transmission into reverse and stomping on the gas. The rear-wheel drive Lincoln spun its tires on the slippery garage floor for a few seconds before they caught traction.

The four-thousand-pound beast lurched backward, crashing into the door and plowing through it. The garage door screeched and clanked as its metal was bent back and out of the way. The Lincoln cruised across the cement apron and made it to the street. A moment later, he made a U-turn and put the car into drive. He raced off, his eyes checking the scene. Three identical black sedans with government plates were parked along the curb in front of his parents’ house, but he didn’t see any of the men. They must have all been inside.

He drove a quick fifty feet and turned onto a connecting street, cruising away from his parents’ house. The compass ball on the top of the dash told him the car was pointed north. The rearview mirror showed four men running to their cars from the front door of the house. One of them was using a handheld radio, while the rest seemed content to holster their weapons as they moved.

The neighbors around the home were stirring now as lights popped on and doors opened. Lucas made alternating lefts and rights, accelerating through the network of residential streets in what he assumed was an upscale neighborhood in Tucson. Probably east Tucson, if he had to guess, near the luxury homes he knew existed at the foot of Mount Lemon.

The digital clock on the dashboard told him it was 1:37 a.m. He smiled and increased his speed, knowing the streets would be mostly deserted at this time of night. He continued north, planning to disappear on the mountain roads of Mount Lemon. If he could make it up and over its 9,100-foot peak, he’d be home free.

Masago’s underground complex was an hour’s drive beyond it in the desert, and it was waiting for someone to bring it to life. He planned to be that someone. Since her old man hadn’t purchased it yet, it would be the perfect place to live with his younger self until the Fuji family showed up for their first walk-through. That should be one hell of a reunion. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Masago’s face when she locked eyes with the man in her drawings. He’d have a lot of explaining to do, but he had plenty of time to prepare a speech for their eventual encounter.

Lucas kept the speed up, making it to the base of the mountain without issue. He’d used the mirror to watch for pursuers, but there were none. He wasn’t sure why they hadn’t decided to give chase but was happy they hadn’t. Fifteen minutes later, a reflective road sign flew by, indicating it was only three miles to the summit where the lone ski resort in Tucson was located. He’d never been skiing at the mountain retreat, mainly because he couldn’t afford it but also due to the thought of impaling himself on a tree—it wasn’t his idea of fun.

He’d driven this winding road a long time ago with Drew and his adoptive mother, and knew its scenic beauty during the daylight hours. The endless views of the cityscape behind him were impressive, plus the steep canyons were lined with majestic pine trees—all of it breathtaking.

The view at night didn’t do it justice. Not with the darkness swallowing its beauty and keeping most drivers on edge with the intense danger lurking only a few feet to the right of the shoulder.

At least once every winter, some drunk skier would miss a turn and plummet thousands of feet to his death. It would be all over the news for weeks as the steep terrain made it difficult for Search and Rescue to recover the body.

Lucas remembered the story Masago had mentioned, about the poor schmuck who managed to pick the single biggest drop-off point along the entire road. Talk about bad luck. The crash started with the guardrail giving way, and ended in a towering fireball in the middle of a citrus farm at the foot of the mountain.

Baby Lucas was still sleeping in the back, completely oblivious to the harrowing escape and the mountainous world around him. Lucas admired the innocence he once had as a child, wondering if part of life’s master plan is to slowly strip you down one layer at a time until all that’s left is a lonely cynic. It was a cruel reality, but one he might be able to change for the precious child in the backseat. Just a few more miles and he’d be able to start that journey and do so in the role of a surrogate father . . . for himself.

Before the next bend in the road, the area suddenly lit up like a supernova. A spotlight from above was now beaming down on the Town Car, creating havoc with his eyes. He slowed down a bit, waiting for his vision to adjust. It did. For a brief second, he thought it might’ve been the Baaku, the alien race of adolescent telepaths, returning to finish what they’d started on the Earth outpost. But then he heard a deep chopping sound ripping through the cold night air—a helicopter.

They found us!

But how? He was sure they hadn’t been followed. Only twice had he seen headlights following in the rearview mirror, and both times the drivers had turned off and gone on their way.

His brain searched for an answer. Then he found it. A tracking device. They must have installed it on the car.

The dome light. That’s why it was on!

The thought never crossed his mind. One of the intruders must have gone into the garage and planted a transmitter on the vehicle—most likely under the hood where it could easily be attached to the battery for continuous power. It must have been standard operating procedure in case they lost containment of the home.

The angle of the spotlight changed from directly overhead to a lower angle, burning in on the driver’s side. His left eye was taking the brunt of it now, so he put a hand up to block the intensity. It worked, though he didn’t know if they were focused on him or on the child in the baby seat.

Just then, baby Lucas woke up and started crying. The damned light must have woken him up.

“It’ll be okay, Lucas,” he told the child. “Just a few more minutes, I promise. I’m going to find a dirt road somewhere and turn off. Once we’re under the trees, that nasty light will go away.”

The pavement curved left and continued its climb, cutting the light off for a bit as the tall stand of pine trees blocked its view. The crying in the backseat lessened as well, giving Lucas a chance to focus without the penetrating noise.

He kept watch for a turnoff, but the steep terrain along the edge of the mountain didn’t provide one. He calculated they were less than a mile from the peak. If he remembered correctly, the road straightened along the final approach. After two more bends in the road, his prediction came true. He could see lights ahead in the direction of the resort. Unfortunately, they were flashing red and blue. Dozens of them.

“Fuck, a roadblock,” he snapped, not stopping himself from dropping an f-bomb with a baby in the car.

He slowed the car down by ten miles an hour, wanting to consider his options. Turning around might work, but the dark, narrow road would make that a dangerous maneuver.

A moment later, the helicopter peeled off and was replaced by a sea of red and blue lights in his rearview mirror. Somehow they had caught up to him from behind.

He was pinned in.

Lucas tightened his grip on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead with glazed eyes and no options. A string of patrol cars was closing in from behind, herding the Town Car toward the waiting roadblock a mile ahead. It wouldn’t be long before he was arrested and they’d take baby Lucas away. He could kiss the Smart Skin Suit goodbye and any chance of ever getting home to a future where everyone he loved was still alive.

Time had adjusted and stopped his reversion plan—again.

He was correct earlier when he figured time was like the flow of a river, constantly avoiding the obstacles placed in its path. It’s not possible to change the flow of time or stop it, not when it can see the obstacles coming. It seemed like the harder he tried or the further ahead he planned, the easier it was for time to take corrective action. Just like a river might do with larger obstacles in its way. The further ahead it can see it, the more time it had to build momentum and adjust its path.