The Bureau of Time (34 page)

“You would do that? You’d help rescue the Bureau’s agents? And stop people crossing between worlds?”

“We can rescue your people,” Boreman promised. “In exchange for your services, of course. White Tower controls almost all of the Timewalkers, and we need to level the playing field. And closing the connection between the worlds
must
be done – we can’t live our lives fearing what might come through from the other side.”

Cassie fell silent again.

She wanted to go home, but that was no longer an option – not yet, at least. Her mind was overwhelmed, dozens of thoughts tumbling around, each trying to shout louder than the other.

They made us as human weapons,
Shaun said, his voice echoing in her mind. Which side had he chosen? Had he aligned himself with White Tower, or had he joined with Zero? She didn’t know what answer she wanted.

We swore to defend our country, above all else.
‘Country’ wasn’t right – there was more at stake here. Her entire world was in danger. She could do something though – she could help. It wasn’t the path she had wanted to walk, but right then, sitting opposite the older version of Ryan Boreman, she knew what she had to do.

She would fight with the Resistance, fight in a foreign universe against an enemy she barely knew. She would rescue the Bureau’s agents and return home to the people she loved. She met Commander Boreman’s gaze with a steely determination, a fire blazing in her stomach. She swallowed once, and then said the words that would seal her fate forever:

“I’ll help you destroy White Tower.”

THE STORM

Shaun spat a tooth into the mud, blood spilling from his mouth. Icy rain pummeled the back of his neck, and his clothes clung to his body like a second skin. The unnatural storm hung over Block Island, raging at the combatants, an impartial third-party to the bloody conflict. The ground slipped under his feet as he stumbled upright.

An Adjuster leaped toward him, framed in a single flash of lightning. His six-shooter roared, jerking his shoulder. The .45-caliber round punched a hole through the Adjuster’s chest, inky blood curling through the air. He turned away as the monster’s body dissolved into the fabric of the universe, the dying snarl drowned out by a thunderclap.

White Tower was slowly pushing across Eaglepoint’s grounds toward the main building, where the remnants of the Bureau’s force defended the lobby. Snipers provided cover fire from the roof, sticking their rifles around the edges of the satellite dishes, every shot taking down another enemy.

Adjusters teleported freely, vanishing and reappearing every few seconds, a blur of black jumpsuits and silver steel. Temporal Energy swirled around the area, a temporal storm accompanying the physical one. Strong winds gusted across the island, battering Shaun as he tried to stay upright.

Zero was nowhere to be found. He had teleported deeper into Eaglepoint Station, easily avoiding Shaun’s first attack. Carl Tallon –
that son of a bitch –
directed the Resistance’s forces from a safe distance, guarded by half a dozen of his own men. Miller pushed across the field, covered in blood, his futuristic shotgun exploding with a flash of green light, felling the enemy ranks.

But no matter how many rebel Adjusters they killed, more arrived to take their fallen comrades’ place. Forward Operating Base Chester had already exhausted its reserves; there were no reinforcements coming.

We have to end this, quickly. Tallon has the advantage in numbers – he’s just bleeding us out.

Shaun leaped over a mangled section of chain-link fence, angling toward Miller. More Adjusters appeared, and he barely had time to register the crimson sashes of the rebel force before opening fire. The first shot found its mark, the snarling Adjuster thrown backward, consumed by a swirling void before it hit the ground; the second teleported away, reappearing directly behind him, plunging its knife into his shoulder.

Shaun screamed, dropping face-first into the muddied ground. He couldn’t move; his shoulder burned in agony. His revolver slipped out of his grasp. A heavy boot crushed his lower spine and he let out a tortured gasp, red dots dancing before his eyes. He dipped into his Affinity, drawing on the river of T.E. surrounding him, rapidly Timewalking his injuries. A rough hand grabbed his wet hair and wrenched his head back.

Shaun felt cold steel against his throat. He thrashed against his attacker, using the slippery ground to his advantage. He pushed backward, the Adjuster tumbling forward into the mud. Shaun spun around, seized his revolver, his finger wrapping around the trigger. The Adjuster was already on all fours, face contorted in rage, dashing toward him.

A lightning strike masked the roar of his gun.

He pulled the knife from his shoulder with a sickening squelch, and Timewalked his injuries. The battle had moved toward the outpost now. He saw two bright flashes of light at the very top of the building and his startled shout died in the roaring wind. A pair of bodies fell lifelessly to the ground, sniper rifles following their owners down.

Shaun abandoned the knife and pushed off, racing toward the base, reaching into his Affinity, trying to locate Zero’s Signature, but something was blocking him – no,
someone.
He quickly changed course, angling toward Tallon, anger boiling up inside of him.
He betrayed me. He betrayed us all. He has to pay, he has to pay—

“Shaun! Where are you going?”
Miller’s voice thundered through Shaun’s skull.

“Tallon’s coordinating the assault!”
Shaun replied, slowing his pace long enough to kill another pair of Adjusters. He focused his thoughts, channeling them into the NeuroHex, feeling his reply search out Miller’s comm device like a Bluetooth connection.
“He has to be stopped!”

“Leave him. That’s an order, Timewalker. We need you to secure the base – we can’t hold Zero off much longer.”

“But—”
Shaun stopped, Tallon still a hundred feet away, watching the battle like a medieval General, ordering his men to slaughter the defendants. There was a burst of light, almost as bright as the lightning strikes, and Miller teleported beside Shaun. He was breathing heavily, his uniform tattered and stained black, his distinctive ponytail dripping wet.

“Leave him,” Miller repeated, forcefully. “I’ll take care of Carl.” A shadow passed over his face, and his jaw tightened. “This is personal.”

Shaun hesitated. He wanted –
what?
He didn’t know what he wanted. They had to find Zero
now
, before he escaped again, but he was still too shocked by Tallon’s betrayal to think clearly.
That was how Zero destroyed the Bureau of Time. Tallon was assisting him from the inside, bringing us down. How long had he been working for Zero?

More White Tower Adjusters teleported alongside Miller, each looking equally tired.

“We can’t hold on much longer,” he said, echoing Shaun’s thoughts. “There’s only one way to end this: cut off the head of the snake. Find Zero, and finish this.”

“How do you know I can stop him?” Shaun asked, shouting over the pouring rain. The storm was intensifying, the wind ripping the words out of his mouth. Miller clapped a hand on Shaun’s shoulder, and spoke in his mind this time, the words absorbing into his brain.

“Zero thinks he knows you, because he knows the man you became in the Prime universe. But White Tower changed fate when we created this world, when we broke the sacred laws of physics. You are different Shaun, in ways you can’t even begin to imagine – that’s how you beat Zero. Do the exact opposite of whatever he’s expecting. And be careful – he’s far more powerful than any of us know. Be prepared for anything.”

Miller pulled out of Shaun’s mind, leaving a silent void behind. He turned his back and charged forward with a battle cry, his Adjusters prepared to make their final stand. Shaun tightened his grip on his revolver, then ran toward the base, blood pounding in his ears.

The lobby’s glass doors lay shattered on the ground, jagged shards stained red. His stomach clenched when he saw the bodies. A dozen soldiers and agents slumped against the walls, their guns abandoned. Shaun broke his revolver and retrieved a speedloader from his belt, slamming six new rounds into the gun and clicking the cylinder back into place.

The outpost was dark, the power cut.

Emergency chemical lighting in the ceiling cast a pale green glow in the corridors. Shaun moved forward, holding his revolver at shoulder-level, on-edge for any local fluctuations in T.E. The storm raged outside and the walls shook with the force of the wind, gunshots rising above the roar of nature’s fury.

He made his way upstairs, praying that he would find someone still alive, an agent or duty officer,
someone.
He found only bodies and bloodstains, some black from Adjusters, but many more bright red. With every corpse he passed, he became more and more determined, a burning hatred flaring in his core. On the top floor, he finally felt something – as his distance from Tallon increased, his Affinity was able to pick up a powerful signature sheltered behind the locked doors at the far end of the corridor.

Signs indicated that he was approaching the Comms Room, the heart of Eaglepoint Station and the very center of the Bureau’s intelligence and monitoring capabilities. Chemical lights painted the hallway the color of an underwater grotto, the storm quieting as he approached the doors.

With one hand gripping the revolver, Shaun stood before the entrance, his Affinity sending sharp pains through the back of his head. Zero was beyond that door, without a doubt. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest, and his breaths came short and sharp.

Shaun pushed the handle down and entered.

The Comms Room was empty.

Thick carpet silenced his footsteps as he crossed the threshold, his breath clouding in the freezing air. It was unnaturally cold – ice crystals had formed on the walls. The nauseating stench of death filled his nostrils, but there were no bodies. His Affinity spiked, excited by the tremendous amount of T.E. surrounding him, all of it concentrated into a single point in the very middle of the room.

Banks of computers arranged in semi-circles lay smoking; chairs were overturned. The carpet and walls were stained with blood. He took another step forward, his pulse quickening, his palms slick with sweat.

The walls dissolved into utter darkness, the floor dropped out from his feet, and he let out a panicked scream that fell flat.

Now he was standing in the middle of nowhere, an endless black void stretching out in all directions. Shaun gripped his six-shooter tightly, his heart thundering against his ribcage. A raw stream of Temporal Energy parted around his body and slammed together in front of him. Light sparked where the streams fused into one, rainbow-colored shards shooting outwards. He took a tentative step forward, his foot sinking into something soft and pliable, like a rubber mat.

“
HEY
!” Shaun bellowed, turning around in a circle. “
ZERO
! You hiding in the shadows? Come out and face me!”

There was no echo or return answer, no light or sound. He took a few more steps, then started jogging. In the darkness, he had no clear direction, no way of measuring time or distance. After what felt like a few minutes, but might have been hours, he slowed to a stop. He ran a hand through his hair – a hand he could see now, lit by a pale light, ghostly and silver.

He turned around, trying to determine the source of the light, but it didn’t exist. Shaun let out a low growl and fired his gun upward.

In the bright flash of the gunshot, he saw a face in the darkness.

He leveled his gun at the face, but the darkness returned, wrapping him in a blanket of shadow. He stepped backward, tripping over something solid.

Now he was falling, down into the bottomless void, screaming but never hearing his own voice. The dark pressed all around him and he reached out with his hands, desperately searching for something to hold onto. He plunged into wet liquid, the substance enveloping him, worming its way into his ears, his mouth, his nose, rushing through his insides.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think; his body was screaming in distress, his lungs burning. He felt his blood boil, his skin melt away, his muscles slide from his bones; his mind disconnected from reality and drifted through the infinite universe.

Shaun felt nothing. Thought nothing. He simply
existed
.

A tiny pinprick of light shone forth from the dark, rapidly growing in size, rushing toward him. He tried to move, but he was paralyzed. The light spread across the horizon, consuming his entire vision, blasting into him with an excruciating amount of heat. Then the light retreated, the heat subsided, and he was left alone, time passing him by, space dilating and expanding around him.

“Now you understand my birth.”

Shaun stood in the middle of The Great Lawn, in Central Park.

New York City lay in ruin around him, the skyscrapers smoldering. The park was overgrown: thick tree roots cracked the walking paths, and the grass reached his knees. The iconic softball fields were covered with weeds, and dead trees overhung the park. Ash swirled around the metropolis.

The immense city was utterly silent – gone was the honking of cars, the rumble of the subway, the loud chatter of millions of people. Through the gaps in the skeletal trees, he saw abandoned vehicles on the sidewalk, hundreds of yellow taxis crashed into each other. Signs of looting marred the condemned buildings. A pack of feral dogs darted around the reservoir, snarling in his direction before vanishing into the woods.

Cool air brushed against his skin. It was noon, but the light was cold and unfriendly, lacking real warmth – the sun was hidden behind a thick layer of dark-gray cloud. An uneasy feeling passed through his gut, hundreds of memories flooding back to him. It was on the streets of Manhattan that Shaun had first encountered the Adjusters; in those dark, unfriendly alleys, he had lived alone, lost and afraid, until the Bureau had rescued him.