The Children Who Time Lost (26 page)

“We don’t have much time,” I said. “The gun he’s using isn’t for maximum damage. He’s allowing us to live for now.”

The officer nodded. “Hang on.”

He swerved right onto the sand and spun the car around. The chasing car skidded, and the officer pulled his gun out and shot at its tires. Then we sped off in the opposite direction. Lorenzo dived out from the back of the car and somersaulted as he landed. Then he chased us on foot, now back in his alien form.

“Hurry,” I screamed. “He’s still coming.”

The officer didn’t respond but continued driving. More cars headed in the opposite direction, along with a black motorbike. I heard a catastrophic collision and a loud explosion. I looked back to see two cars that had collided. Smoke rose into the air, hampering our vision. The officer slowed down for a moment and watched.

Then the same motorcycle I’d seen shot through the flames toward us.

“It’s him,” I screamed.

The officer put his foot on the gas again and quickly picked up speed. The motorcycle caught up with us as easily as if we were driving a toy car. I clenched my seat in fear, my heart beating faster. I had no doubt Lorenzo planned to eventually kill me. The only reason he hadn’t done it yet was probably because he wanted to question me first.

His motorbike caught up with us, and I heard two loud thumps against our car. I looked back and screamed in fear, for the sharp fangs of one of the slithering organisms were inches from my face outside the window. I grabbed a newspaper in the backseat and rolled it up. I slowly wound the window down and waited for the right moment. I struck the creature twice. It fell from the car, but more slithered into view. The officer dropped down a gear and accelerated some. But the distance gained was short-lived. I picked up the aerosol can from the floor.

“The lighter,” I shouted.

He tossed it to me. I turned and faced the window. Lorenzo was beside me. He swung his fist toward my face, but I saw it in time and pulled my head back in. He swayed from side to side on his bike. After steadying, he eyed me up and down. I saw the same devilish grin I had become familiar with after he killed Kevin. He raised his gun in the air, never taking his eyes off me. He didn’t know what I had in my hand, but he was about to find out.

He pulled his bike wide in preparation for a collision. I performed a countdown from three. Then he charged toward the car. At one, I raised the can. Lorenzo’s eyes widened. I sparked the lighter and squeezed the nozzle. The flames engulfed the bike. Lorenzo’s clothes caught fire. The organisms around his body screamed as they fell to the ground. Lorenzo leaped from the bike and rolled to the ground just before the bike exploded.

I threw the can out the window. The officer’s radio crackled again, and the same woman’s voice came through. He didn’t answer this time. Instead, he just looked at me. I met his gaze for a moment and then stared at the desert.

“What in God’s name was that thing?”

I just stared at him. “When is this?”

He looked bewildered.

“What year?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

I shook my head.

He glanced at the road and turned back to me. “It’s 2013.”

I sighed and nodded.

He gave me another confused look and continued driving in silence. After a few minutes, he turned to me again. “Who are you, anyway?”

I ruffled my hair and wiped sweat from my forehead. Then I looked at him. “Rachel Harris.”

Chapter Twenty

W
e drove in silence. The car clunked along like it would break down at any minute. I glanced back for maybe the tenth time in two minutes. No cars or motorbikes sped toward us. The officer’s radio crackled again. The female dispatcher on the other end asked him where he was, but he didn’t answer.

The desert sand on the side of the road had disappeared. We were entering a city. There were many large structures that looked like Roman buildings. Families walked around nonchalantly, but the most welcome sight was the children. They were everywhere, boys and girls playing with each other. But I didn’t feel like I was in Los Angeles.

“Where is this?”

The officer glanced at me with tired eyes. “Barstow.” The two marks on his face had darkened and resembled deep burn marks.

Then I realized what he had said. “Barstow?” I stared out the window and squinted when the sun hit my eyes. “That’s … What am I doing here?”

“Good question,” he said. “I’d like to know that, too. I’d also like to know what the hell that thing was back there.”

I shrugged.

“Don’t give me that. It looked like you knew exactly what it was. And it seemed to know you, too.”

I faced ahead. “I just need to get to L.A., mister. If you can get me there or somewhere near there, I’ll be really grateful.”

He laughed. “Oh, no, you don’t. You think I’m just letting you go?”

I gave him a hard look. “But what have I done?”

“I don’t know what you’ve done, but I’m sure as hell gonna find out. And why did you ask me what year it was back there?”

I didn’t answer.

“Nothing to say?” he said. “Maybe an hour or two in an interrogation room will get you talking.”

I gritted my teeth. He couldn’t take me in. Lorenzo would find out where I was. He was good at that. I stared at him and mussed my hair. There didn’t seem to be any reasoning with him. And he was the law—I couldn’t exactly offer him money. But I needed to get the jump on him somehow. I looked around the car. It was banged up pretty bad. Shattered glass filled the backseat, and none of the windows remained. Springs protruded from the seats where the organisms had ripped them to shreds. I stared at the officer. He looked like a man who would rather be doing something else. Someone who might have chosen a different career path if he could have. He caught me looking at him.

“What?” he said.

I turned away. Then I turned back and eyed the gun by his waist. I could have reached it and pointed it at him before he had time to react. I gritted my teeth some more. That would just make me a wanted woman here. Unless, of course, I killed him.
No, Rachel. That’s not you.
I swallowed and just stared ahead. His radio crackled a few more times before he pulled into a parking lot and shut the engine off. The building ahead of us was brown and had two floors.

The other law-enforcement vehicles parked outside told me it was the headquarters. I saw eight other marked sedans like his, an SUV and a black van that had the large letters “SWAT” written on the side. The top of the building read “Barstow Police Department.”

He got out, walked around the front of the car and opened my door. I got out and he closed the door. “Seriously, mister, why am I here?”

He gestured toward a set of glass doors. “Just a few questions and you can be on your way.”

“So I’m not under arrest?”

“Of course not. You said it yourself—you’ve done nothing wrong.”

I smiled. He was trying to be clever. I had no problem with playing along for the time being. I walked toward the door with a straight face. A number of officers and civilians leaving the station eyed me. It wasn’t the looks I got in 2043, where I was this weird celebrity and fruitcake rolled into one. This look asked, “Who the hell is this mess?” But then, why
wouldn’t
they look at me like that? I had dirt all over my hair. My white shirt looked brown and my jacket was badly torn. And the looks the officer got were just as bad. I felt sorry for him. The marks on his face didn’t look like they would heal. The organisms had really gone to work.

I stood by the building’s entrance and waited for the officer to catch up. A tall leggy officer in a smart gray suit walked out and eyed me for a second. Her flowing blond hair reminded me of what mine used to look like, but she was way prettier than I ever was. She looked at the officer who brought me in, her smile turning into a hard frown.

“Willie,” she shouted, “what the hell happened to your face?”

The officer shook his head. “It’s a long story.”

She stared at him. She seemed to have authority over him. Probably a sergeant or lieutenant to his detective.

He didn’t meet her gaze. She turned to me again. “So what do we have here?”

Willie stood beside me and finally looked into her eyes. “You hear about the explosion a while back?”

She nodded.

“Well, I was there with this young lady. I just need to find out what’s going on.”

She walked up to him and caressed his face. He pulled back in pain.

“Is that how you got that?” she said.

He nodded.

She grimaced and took another step toward him. “You okay?” She looked worried, as if Willie were a current or previous boyfriend. Or maybe she was just shocked by his appalling injuries.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “We can catch up later.”

She gave me another look, except more sinister this time. Then she walked toward one of the parked cars. Willie pointed at a row of chairs in the reception area. It was strange to see chairs with legs, but other than that, the structure and the layout of the building were like most in my time. I sat down and crossed my legs. A number of officers walked out of back rooms and eyed me. Every second wasted made it easier for Lorenzo to find me.

Willie spoke to an elderly woman near reception for almost five minutes. Like the other woman, she caressed his face from time to time. He did seem like a genuinely nice guy, and again, I had brought misfortune to someone trying to save my life. But I was still running out of time and had to find Dylan before he disappeared for good.

Willie walked back toward me. “You ready?”

I stood up and nodded.

The interrogation room wasn’t as claustrophobic as I’d imagined. The wooden table in front of me was narrow and looked as if its legs would snap. The walls were light brown and quite clean. Windows would have helped, but I didn’t feel too uncomfortable. Willie sat opposite and just studied me. I stared at the clock on the wall. It was nearly 10:30 a.m. I’d been in the station for an hour, waiting while he made calls to verify my identity.

“Rachel Harris,” he said, “from Los Angeles.”

I nodded. “That’s right.”

He tossed a black folder at me with a list of names that all said “Rachel Harris.” “Well we have over 150 Rachel Harrises in L.A. When we narrow it down to your description and age, we have ten matches. But not a single one of them is you.”

I shrugged. Of course none was me. I’d been only four years old at this time in 2013. I wouldn’t be five until September 17. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

He leaned his elbows on the table and stared into my eyes like he was waiting for me to make some major confession. “Why don’t you tell me who you really are? I’ve chosen not to search you because you’re not yet under arrest. We’re just having a chat. But I will if I have to.”

I shrugged again. “Honestly, I don’t know why I’m not on there.”

He stood up, opened the door and shouted, “Maureen!”

Nothing came back, but then a young woman, maybe in her late teens, rushed to the door. She had mousy brown hair and a nervous demeanor.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

Willie stared at me for a moment and then looked at Maureen. “I want you to gather all her belongings and log it, now!”

The woman nodded and ran back out. She returned less than a minute later with a blue plastic basket. After placing it on the table, she stood beside me and looked at Willie.

“Stand up and empty everything you have into that basket,” Willie said.

I sat up in my chair, scowling, and placed both hands on the table. “Can you even do this? I’m not under arrest.”

“I have reason to believe you are withholding information, ma’am, information that could help in assisting with the investigation of the deaths of four innocent people.”

My eyes widened.

“That’s right,” Willie said. “The people in the explosion your friend caused. There were four of them—two women, a man and a child—and they’re all dead. Now empty your pockets.”

I panicked. I couldn’t afford for him to see the medication I had or the wad of cash. I just stood there and stared at him. He leaned against the table, pushing it toward me. He pointed at me. “You do it or I’ll get some officers to strip-search you.”