Skyline (11 page)

 “What?”
Felix stammered. His eyes were wider, but were still darting everywhere. Trying
to catch up with all his eyes had seen. “What happened?” A shudder ran through
him and his gaze fixed on Charlotte, his brow crinkled upward. “It’s a time
machine?”

“You
… ?” Even Bill hadn’t realized it so fast. “It is.”

“I
was going to ask,” he said, spinning to Charlie, tugging the boy’s backpack
off. He zipped it open, pulled out a stack of drawings, with one of Charlotte’s
orb at the top. “I thought I was crazy,” Felix said, but there was water in his
eyes, enthusiasm on his lips. “How could Charlie have been to the premiere of
Star
Wars
?” He flipped through and found a drawing to match, a marquis showing
opening night. Below stood two stick figures in red hats taking tickets. “Or
how could he have seen
Cats
? Or know about New Amsterdam? Or met one of
the Lenape?” He tugged the drawings out to show Charlotte: two human-shaped
cats singing on a stage, a rowboat drifting along a canal, a wandering man with
a spear in hand—her ancestor, according to Monroe. “I didn’t think Monroe’s
love of history could rub off that much, so I started thinking crazy things.
But it’s
true
?” Felix looked up from the pages, his face wide open with
confusion. “Charlotte, how is this possible?”

For
a second, Charlotte couldn’t respond. She dropped the astrolabe into her bag
and took the stack from Felix’s hands, rifling through. There was the Empire
State Building under construction. There was a man in a fedora, a burning
cigarette at his lips. But there was no image in the entire stack of Dad.
Charlie’s grandpa was still hers to share.

“Come
on,” Charlotte said, handing the pages back to Felix. “We have somewhere to
be.”

As
they walked, Charlotte explained everything she had to Bill and Monroe. But
Felix shook his head at her schematics. He didn’t want to hear the technical
details, he wanted to hear her story. When she’d known, how she’d perfected it,
what the plan was.

Felix
kept drifting away from the conversation, holding his phone up to take
pictures, grazing a hand along buildings. Only six years in the past, not much
had changed. But Felix noticed the little things, like the fallen ads squished
into the street. The old McDonald’s branding on a cup in the trash. A boy
reading an old issue of
Daredevil
on the day it came out. Felix’s keen
eyes snagged every tiny difference. It was what made him such a strong graphic
designer. It was why Charlotte loved being with him.

But
at last, a final question from Felix froze her in her tracks, just inside the
door of Mt. Sinai Hospital. “And it’s safe?”

The
same damn question Bill and Monroe had asked.

She
couldn’t answer. Unable to lie, unable to tell the truth, she simply stared at
Felix, watching as his nostrils widened in rage. His dark eyes dilated. His
cheeks burned from rosy to red.

“Cha—”
he said at full volume, cut himself off, then started again softer. “Charlotte,
what the hell? Why are we here, then?”

“It’s
more complicated than that, Felix!” she said, whispering like him, trying to
push Charlie toward the elevator like all was okay. But when he kept his head
studiously forward, striding away, she knew he’d heard them. “There’s this man,
threatening us. But we have to keep going. The world is
wrong
, and we’re
the only ones who can stop it.”

“Wrong?
What are you … ?” Felix stepped back. His jaw agape. “The Octagon.”

“It’s
not safe,” Charlotte said, stepping toward him, trying to keep an eye on
Charlie. “But it can be. If you come, if you watch Charlie, then we can do
both. Save the city, reverse the Blast, and keep Charlie safe. He’ll even get
to see more history.”

Such
a paltry addition. Like that changed anything.

Felix
swallowed. “Charlie’s in trouble?” God, she’d practically admitted it.

“That’s
why I need you. Only I know tech. I’m the only one who can defuse—”

“There
are a
million
other people who could, Charlotte! Actual bomb
technicians! Someone from the future!
Anyone
but you.”

“It
has to be me, Felix.” If it wasn’t, if she stayed at home with Charlie and
Felix, then she’d be erased from the timeline, some other Charlotte replacing
her. She couldn’t let that happen. Not to her. Not to Monroe or Bill. And sure
as hell not to Charlie and Felix. “And you have to come along.”

He
shook his head, but joined Charlie at the elevator. The door slid open, and the
three of them entered in silence. Charlotte pressed the button for the correct
floor. She’d never forget this week, the room number where Dad slept.

“So
where are we?” Felix said when the doors slid back open. “When did you take
us?”

Instead
of replying, Charlotte took Charlie’s hand and led him down the hallway to
Dad’s door. She knelt before her beautiful boy and looked him in the eyes. This
close, she could see the deep brown rims of his pupils, the freckles spattering
his tiny cheeks, the cut in his eyebrow from a fall as a toddler. “Today you’re
going to meet someone very special, okay?”

The
boy frowned, his thick lips matching his father’s exactly. She was never able
to share features with her own Dad, but that didn’t mean she loved him any
less. “Who is it?” Charlie asked.

Even
if Felix was still furious, Charlotte couldn’t help but smile slightly. Charlie
hadn’t been here. This was going to be a first for all of them. “You’ll see,”
Charlotte said, taking his right hand in her left. She pushed the door open and
entered.

As
her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the slow beeping, the ragged intake of
breath calmed her. Reminded her where she was. Why she was here. Here was an
irreversible death, but she could steal a few extra minutes.

“Dad?”
Charlotte asked, clicking on the light he preferred. Not the one directly
overhead, but the one behind his head. It allowed him to see without being
overwhelmed with brightness. As the light glowed to life, dozens of tubes
reflected, like streams leading away from Dad’s face, his arm, even leading away
underneath the sheet. Like a scene from a sci-fi horror, but sterilized.

Charlotte
stepped forward, letting him see her.

His
eyes were milky, his thinning hair disheveled. In this state, weakened from
months of being housebound, it was hard to believe he’d ever served on the
force. That he’d ever taught Charlotte to get rid of her stomach through
working out. He coughed, lifting a hand to his mouth, before rasping,
“Charlotte?”

She
drew near, rubbing a hand over his clammy forehead. Smoothing his hair. “I
brought someone to meet you.”

His
head tilted. “Ah, Felix,” he said. “Your wedding was so beautiful.”

It
had only been months ago to him. It’d taken Monroe all day to get him outside,
into a cab, and down to his seat. He hadn’t moved once, but he’d been smiling
the entire time.

Felix
stood in the doorway. One hand perched on Charlie’s shoulder, the other a few
inches below his mouth, frozen before he’d been able to hide his astonishment.
“I …” he tried. On their way down, Charlotte thought he’d adjusted. But it was
one thing to see old artifacts lying on the street. Another to see a man
resurrected.

“We
brought someone special, Dad,” Charlotte said. Giving Felix time to recover.
Keeping focused on who this was for. She reached a hand out to Charlie. The boy
had hung back, still at the door, waiting, frowning. “Charlie, meet your
grandpa.”

The
boy’s shoulders fell, his eyes widened. “This is White Grandpa?”

She
couldn’t help her grin. The name was so ridiculous. So accurate. “This is him,”
she said. Her son stepped forward once, then again, until his hand was in hers,
standing beside the man she’d lost before he was born.

If
only Monroe were here, the most important men in her life would be in this
room.

Dad’s
white eyebrows pulled together slowly as he squinted. “Who?”

“Dad,
this is Charlie.”

“Our
son,” Felix added, his voice hoarse. He’d at last stepped in, but one hand
still remained aloft, stuck. His left eyebrow was deep down, the other high on
his forehead. He turned from Dad to Charlotte. Gone was his anger. As he
watched her, both brows went high on his forehead. Gone was his confusion, too.
All he had now was a gentle awe.

“I
know it’s confusing, Dad. But I discovered time travel and …” She shook her
head. There was no way to make this less insane. “I wanted you to meet your
grandson.”

Her
father’s eyes found her. “Time travel? Grandson?” Then his gaze drifted
downward to Charlie. He squinted, probably only seeing a blur.

“Step
closer,” Charlotte encouraged, and Charlie did.

“Charlie,”
Dad repeated, rolling the name in his mouth. “That’s a good name.” It was his
name, too. “Now then.” He pushed himself up a little, peered closer to Charlie,
squinting. “You must be about five, am I right?”

Charlie
nodded.

“You’re
the same size as your mom when I found her,” he said. “Did she tell you about
that day? Two lonely kids on a playground? You’re lucky, kiddo. You’ll never
have to experience that.”

Charlotte
heard a creak beyond the door, and she spun to see the shadow move on. Likely
just a nurse. Paris wouldn’t interrupt this.

Dad
coughed into his hands, his chest heaving, his throat getting raspier. He
moaned when he was finished. “Well, go on, tell me a little about yourself.”

Charlie
looked back at Charlotte, so she nodded her permission. “I’m five,” Charlie
said, slowly. “And I like to draw. I’m in preschool. I like building stuff with
this metal thing Mom gave me. An … An …”

“Erector
set,” Charlotte filled in. A purchase she couldn’t help buying from the 70s.

“Erector
set, yeah.” Charlie grinned. “I love building stuff, just like Mom. And we go
on special trips. I get to see anything I want, anything I’ve read about in one
of Uncle ’Roe’s books.” Charlie was off like a shot, talking as he climbed up
and snuggled with the grandpa he’d always hoped to meet. Gabbing about himself
without thinking to ask questions. Without worrying about the tubes, the
slightly increased beeping, or his grandpa’s fragile skin.

As
Charlie spoke, Dad pulled a hand up, ruffling his hair. His oldness was melting
away, his smile growing. His breathing seemed smoother, his fingers more
sensitive to a single strand of Charlie’s curls.

Charlotte
felt Felix step closer, a hand touch the small of her back. The exact thing
he’d done on their wedding day before their kiss. Her feeling awkward in a
too-long white dress. Him puffing out his chest in his tuxedo. Their officiant
went on at length about the Blast. How it had taken so many lives, but had
brought them together.

Their
life had been written by the tragedy of the Blast.

But
she wouldn’t let their lives be rewritten once the Blast had been reversed. So
long as Felix came, so long as he watched Charlie, their personal history would
be intact, as hers still was—remembering being married to Felix only yesterday.
Even once they stopped the Blast, they still could’ve met there. Still would
have married because of their connection during the mourning.

She
just needed Felix. Now more than ever.

“I’m
in,” came a whisper at her cheek. “How could I possibly stay away from
something that can give you
this
?” She turned to see Felix, the awe on
his lips firming up into resolution. “But you tell me everything. No more
secrets, Charlotte. If I’m in, I’m in.”

She
gazed into his deep brown eyes, even as Charlie and Dad spoke to each other,
oblivious. Charlie would be safe with Felix. She, Monroe, and Bill could seek
out Ana. Together all of them could even face Paris if he came. But even as she
promised, “No more secrets,” she wondered if that were true.

How
could she ever tell him that she’d married a different man?

After
Mt. Sinai, Felix insisted on the lunch he’d planned. So Charlotte took them
through time, and they had the meal. The only difference was that they didn’t
fight. The air cleared as Charlotte told him about Ana, about the bombs, even
about the blue-haired man that had threatened them. She implied the danger to
Charlie, not wanting the boy to realize the danger he was in.

When
Charlotte finished, Charlie continued filling in Felix—and Charlotte, though he
didn’t know it—on all of their travels. The life he talked about was everything
Charlotte had hoped for: Monroe directing them through time and them exploring.
Now Felix would come, too.

By
the time she dropped Felix and Charlie back off at their apartment, she could
almost forget the rift. She could almost pretend that this was
her
Felix. And then, outside the door, still under umbrellas, Felix said, “That was
amazing, Charlotte. We’ll see you soon?”

She
breathed, trying to remain calm. Even if this could be her Felix, that didn’t mean
they were suddenly married. “Soon,” she said. “We just have to figure out when
to go. Leanor didn’t really give us any clues.”

Felix
paused, biting one of his thick lips. “Couldn’t you just ask her?”

“God,
yes
.” Now that she knew about Ana’s role in the Blast, Leanor wouldn’t
be so coy. She’d give them a clue; she’d have to. “Thank you Felix.” She
squeezed him and Charlie into a hug. Something she hadn’t felt in too long. “I
can’t wait for our next trip.”

As
she walked back, the rain seemed lighter, almost worth taking down her
umbrella. The splashes from passing taxis seemed cool, refreshing. Even
Monroe’s apartment building looked cleaner, his door a beautiful stark white.

Then
she pushed through the door, and darkness reached out to her.

Monroe
still sat at the kitchen table beside the gloomy window, reading some book
about the Blast. He barely looked up. “Char? Where have you been?”

“I
…” She closed the door behind her, but then noticed that Monroe wasn’t alone.
Opposite from the kitchen, on the living room couch, sat Bill, playing a video
game. “Bill, hey. You’re back.”

He
glanced over, twitching an eyebrow up. “If you’ll have me.”

Monroe
studiously read his book. Or at least, he stared at his book. His eyes weren’t
moving.

“Is
everything okay?” Charlotte asked. Of course Bill could come along.

“Everything’s
okay,” Monroe said.

“It’s
all right,” Bill said, shutting off his game and standing. He approached, hands
deep in his jeans pockets. “How’d things go with Felix?”

“Great
actually, we … “ Monroe still wasn’t interested, so Charlotte focused on Bill.
“I told him everything, but he already suspected. According to Charlie, we’ve
been traveling for a little over a year. I must’ve told you guys earlier in
this timeline. But Felix understood, eventually. He’s going to join us.”
Charlotte gulped. It wasn’t right for her to talk about all of this, when
something had clearly happened while she was away.

“I’m
sorry I didn’t come home faster,” Charlotte said to Monroe. He didn’t lift his
eyes from the page.

Bill
filled the silence. “After you told him? Did you go somewhere?”

“To
see Dad,” Charlotte said. “Charlie’s always wanted to meet his grandpa, but it
was impossible until now. It was amazing though. He was smiling, strong, just
like the man he once was.” Now Charlotte felt Monroe’s eyes boring a hole into
her.

“You’re
sure
you’re okay?” Charlotte asked, twisting to catch Monroe’s look.

He
dropped his gaze for only a moment, then returned it. “Bill wants to borrow
your astrolabe.”

That
was all? Why was Monroe saying it like a death knoll? But as she watched
Monroe, she remembered him beside the
Lusitania
. Was this more of the
same? Worrying Bill would change history? Or was this something deeper? A fear
that this would only deepen the rift that had severed their connection
yesterday?

“I
wanted to
talk
about possibly using the astrolabe,” Bill corrected. “Ana
could be anywhere, any
when
, now, right? So we have a ton of time to
search and I thought, why shouldn’t I?” He gulped and spread his hands.
“Because I was thinking, though you could, didn’t you and Leanor do a lot of
tests? This way you won’t accidentally run into yourself.”

All
of time was a lot to search, but Bill was right. Charlotte couldn’t risk
running into herself. If only she’d made some schedule, charting out her
activities. But she’d been careless, not realizing there were rules to time
travel until Bill came along.

“And
in the plus column,” Monroe said, his voice barbed with fury, “Bill wouldn’t be
distracted by history, right Bill?” Charlotte heard the implied,
like Monroe
would
, and realized this must’ve been something Bill had said during their
argument. “He wouldn’t be distracted by anything. Not the lives of others, not
the forthcoming tragedies,
no
. Not Bill.” Monroe shut his book with a
snap.

Bill
spun. “I wouldn’t! I told you, Monroe. I’ve been thinking. I see the sense in
what you’ve said. Right now? It’s too much. If we’re going to stop the
Blast”—he turned to Charlotte—“and we are going to stop the Blast, then we
can’t change anything else. Not yet.”

“Not
ever
.”

Bill
folded his arms over his chest. “Time can be fixed, Monroe. Time can be
changed, so time can be fixed. 9/11
doesn’t
have to happen. The
Lusitania
doesn’t have to be launched.”

“Your
parents don’t have to discard you?” Monroe stood. “Is that what this is about?
Just think, if gay rights happened fifteen years earlier—”

Bill
drew himself up, squaring his shoulders. “That’s
not
what this is about.
And please. Don’t tell me you don’t want to use the astrolabe to figure out why
your
parents abandoned you. Or is that different?” He tilted his head to
one side, eyeing Monroe. “Did your parents hurt you less by leaving you before
you had a chance to know them?”

“Enough,”
Charlotte said, her heart hammering inside. “Our
biological parents are assholes. Great. No one is talking about that. As far as
I heard, Monroe? No one’s talking about stopping anything but the Blast.”

“Oh,
come on, Char. You’re taking his side? Did you see him at the
Lusitania
?
And how was he underwater at the subway? Just one hundred percent reasonable?”

Cold
dread rushed through Charlotte. She hadn’t told Monroe a thing about Bill’s
final sweep of the train. She’d tried to tuck that moment away into the same
spot in her mind where she kept her feelings about her biological parents. No
use dwelling on things that were unchangeable.

Bill
seemed pale, too, but quickly swallowed whatever he was feeling. “And your
idea? Let’s illuminate Charlotte on that while we’re at it, huh?”

Monroe
held his jaw clenched.

“He
wants to go to the future, Charlotte.”

“Isn’t
that safer?” Monroe threw his hands before him. “At least
I
understand
my problem, Bill.
Yes
, history is too distracting for me.
Yes
, I
love it. So what’s the right solution? Visit the future.” He shifted his gaze to
Charlotte, and lowered his voice to a reasonable decibel. “After it was clear
you weren’t coming back, I went out. Bought a book about the Blast. All this
time, we’ve been thinking about the Blast as this unknowable event. Because
that’s what it is to us. But in the future?” His eyebrows lifted up to his
hairline. “In the future, they’ll know what happened. A hundred years from now,
they’ll have the resources to investigate. Maybe they’ll even understand all
the technology because Ana’s probably from there. So we go to a hundred years
from now, two hundred years, grab a book about the Blast from there and boom.”
He tapped his book. “Done. All the information we could need.”

Charlotte
closed her eyes. Shut out the apartment that seemed like a lit fuse. Two ideas,
so simply stated. Bill searching the past for Ana so they could find the bombs.
Monroe researching the Blast from the future so they’d know how to easily
defuse the bomb they found.

This
argument didn’t stem from
fear
of a rift. Their time away had continued
their separation. One desperate to go to the future, one desperate to go to the
past. They couldn’t be more different.

But
Charlotte knew more than both of them. Not just about the astrolabe. Not just
what would tempt Monroe and Bill along their way. But about Leanor and her
intentions.

“Do
you remember what Leanor said?” Charlotte asked Monroe. He needed to remember.
“Before we left, before we’d decided
when
to go. Do you remember?”

Monroe
opened his mouth, then closed it. Beside Charlotte, Bill shook his head.

“We
were discussing dates, even though you didn’t know why. And Bill asked if you
could see the stars of the future. Do you remember?”

This
at least was distracting them. Hopefully helping remember the night when they
had so much in common. Two men together, about to have their dreams come true.
To see history. To live in a science-fiction world.

“You
didn’t respond,” Bill said. “You checked with Leanor.”

“And
she said to stick with what I knew,” Monroe said, eyes peering at her. “What’s
wrong with the future?”

“We
don’t
know
what,” Charlotte said. “That’s the problem.”

“Exactly,”
Bill said, folding his arms over his wide chest. “
Exactly
what I said,
Monroe. You can’t go to the future because you don’t
know
it. The Blast
happened here. What’s to stop it from happening again? You could travel into a
new Mid River, a building, a dystopian nightmare. You have no clue what you’ll
find.”

Monroe
rolled his eyes, tossing his hair over his shoulder. “Do you know how long the
roads of Manhattan have been this way Bill? Do you know how often they’ve
changed? For all that it has endured, New York is one of the most stable
places, geographically speaking.”

“Yeah,
except for hurricanes.”

“
Geographically
speaking,” Monroe repeated. “Char. Charlotte. This is our
best
chance to
get ahead of Ana. To actually see what she’s up to. Long after she did it,
they’d probably have a better idea. You know they’re still looking into all the
samples. The FBI has a warehouse of stored evidence.”

“I
know, ’Roe,” Charlotte said softly. She refolded her hair, making the buzzed
side visible. Trying to get them both to slow down. “I know. But what if there
isn’t any helpful evidence?”

“Then
…”

“No.”
Charlotte held up a hand. “You’re not
listening
. There won’t be any
evidence about the bombs for them to recover.”

Once
again, both men watched her. If she just kept talking, maybe she could keep
them from fighting. Keep them from forcing her to take a side. Because she knew
which side she’d take, and it wouldn’t fix anything.

“All
night last night, all morning, and on my walk back, I’ve been thinking about
Ana’s bomb. The few components I was able to grab, the rest that I was missing.
I think I know, at least a little, what the bomb did.”

They
waited.

“See,
look.” Charlotte set her bag down—surprised it was still on her shoulder—and
grabbed the two orbs she’d pulled from the first bomb. While explaining
everything to Felix, she’d pulled out the orbs and, with his suggestion of
talking to Leanor, began to fiddle with them. It didn’t take too much work to
pry them open and see what the Blast had done. “I figured, if these orbs are
time devices, I could see where they went. So, look.” She passed one orb over.
“This is the first one I pulled out. The one I threw to Bill.”

Bill
took one half, and Monroe took the other. Inside—where Charlotte had pulled out
dozens of wires—were a bunch of soldered points. They’d all seen something
similar before—inside the top level of the Octagon—so it didn’t take Monroe or
Bill long to say in unison, “Constellations.”

“Exactly.
More to the point, the constellations of Earth as they looked on the Blast day,
exactly.” She shrugged. “So what? We’d guessed that that orb took Ana’s bomb
forward through time. All that does is prove it. But look at
this
one.
The second one.”

She
passed the half-orbs over, but this time they weren’t so quick to speak. They
inspected their halves, then got closer to look at the other’s. Making sure
they weren’t missing anything. There was nothing to miss. “No constellations,”
Monroe said.

“No
recognizable
constellations,” Charlotte corrected. There were soldered
points where the wires had clung, like before, but no familiar groupings. No
Cassiopeia, no Ursa Minor or Major. “Wherever the bomb went next, it was to
sometime so distant that the stars had degraded to an unrecognizable period.”