The Children Who Time Lost (48 page)

“The explosion at the Wilson Research Facility in Sacramento is said to have been caused by a gas leak. It is believed that ten people were killed in the blast, with another five injured. Agents from the ATF are ruling it an accident, with no suspicion of foul play. In other news …”

“I can’t believe that,” I said. “After all we went through, they’re just dismissing everything, as if none of it happened.”

None of us spoke. Doug punched the ceiling. I could feel every ounce of anger flowing through his bones.

Things were more serious than I’d thought. The Shriniks were everywhere. They must have been. They probably even controlled many of the authorities and maybe even the media. Not knowing the good ones from the bad made things even worse. “Something is wrong here. We did see police cars, right?”

No one spoke.

I shook my head. “Come on. You must be thinking what I’m thinking.”

Michael turned toward me and shrugged.

“They must have the police, right? I mean, how else could they have hidden all those bodies so fast?”

There was coughing and clearing of throats, but no one spoke. I saw the worry on each face.

“I just can’t believe we didn’t find your son,” Manuel said, “or at least get the damn journal.” He pounded his fist against the seat. “Everything we did, for what? Nothing, that’s what.”

“Not for nothing,” Michael said. “We know who has the journal.” He turned and faced us. “I think it’s maybe time I called in a few favors. There must be a way we can get to them.”

Curtis hissed. “I don’t know. You don’t know who they have in their pockets. And they must have us on camera. They know you’re working against them.”

“But they haven’t reported anything.” Michael tapped on the radio. “They’ve totally covered it up. Us running around and making all this noise isn’t good. They need to quiet things down. We just need to find a way to confront them in public.”

Doug leaned forward. “Face-to-face? Are you mad?”

“That’s the only way. They won’t hurt us or it’ll just bring attention to them. We need to make them sweat. Let’s show them we’re not scared, take the fight to them.”

“But where?” Doug said. “And how?”

“We’ll figure something out,” Michael said. “Carrie will throw a party sooner or later. She always does. And how could she refuse entry to one of her biggest contributors? We’ll ambush her in her own home.”

“But when will that be?” Curtis said. “What if she doesn’t give up Rachel’s son or the others? And we’re running out of time if you want to still get the journal. She’ll only keep it for a few days. Then it’s going straight back to 2086.”

We stopped talking when we saw another car drive up. It slowed down when it reached us. It was an even larger SUV than ours. It flashed its headlights twice and Michael opened his door. “That’s us.”

We all got out and entered the new car. Michael helped Mandy into the front seat, and Manuel rested his arms over my shoulder.

“Where are we going?” I said to Michael before we got in.

“Somewhere safe.” He got in and shut the door, and I squeezed in beside him. Doug was beside Michael. Manuel and Curtis sat in the extra seats.

The car moved at a steady pace and carried a strong musky smell. It was spotless all over, like it hadn’t been driven in months. Our driver was white-haired and thickset, probably in his mid-fifties. After a few turns, we ended up on a winding road. After about ten miles, we drove through what looked like a park before reaching a large set of gates. We stopped while the gates opened. We drove up a steep hill, and even in the dark I could see acres and acres of land around us.

We drove for a few more miles before a magnificent house came into view. It was pearl-white, with thick trees all around it. Two huge marble fountains stood on either side of a sprawling driveway accommodating five cars. Our driver parked behind a Mercedes SUV and stepped out. He was even larger than I’d thought, at least six-five. We all sat in the car and waited. The driver looked toward the front door as if waiting for someone to come out and give him further instructions. The porch light came on and the twelve-foot black door opened. I squinted to get a better look. A big burly man pushed another man through in a wheelchair. The man pushing was probably in his forties, with jet-black hair and full sleeves of tattoos across his arms. The man he wheeled looked frail, maybe sixty-five or seventy years old. He had long thinning white hair and looked so thin that I feared that if the wheelchair fell to the ground, he would break into pieces.

Michael opened the door and approached them. The rest of us remained in the car and watched. Michael leaned down and hugged the old man, who looked to be in pain from the force with which Michael hugged him, as if he were a long-lost relative. I opened my door, and the others followed suit. I leaned toward Mandy. “Will you be okay for a second?”

She smiled and nodded. I got out and walked forward with the others, toward Michael. We went past the man who had driven us here. He kept his gaze on Michael and the old man. Michael rose when we drew nearer and urged us forward.

“Everyone, meet Chip Angelo, my mentor and godfather.”

We all looked at Chip, but silence remained. I stepped forward and held my hand out. “Nice to meet you, Chip.”

He studied me as if he had never seen a woman before. Then a wide, almost-haunting grin stretched across his wrinkled face. “I like this one, Michael.”

Michael sniggered in embarrassment. I could feel my cheeks turning red.

“How long have—”

“I’m just helping her, nothing more.”

Chip laughed. “Of course.” He coughed and started waving his hands. “Please, make yourself at home. Whatever you’re into, no one will find you here.”

I gave Michael a confused glance. He just shook his head.

“So, who needs the medical attention?” Chip said.

Michael looked at all of us before facing Chip again. “She’s in the car. It’s not as serious as we thought.”

“We still got to make sure,” Chip said. He turned toward the house. “Mitch!”

We all watched the entrance for almost a minute. A thin bald man with round glasses ran out with a leather bag. Chip just nodded toward the SUV. The thin man ran forward and helped Mandy out. She smiled at us just before she entered the house. Then she was gone.

“That will be all, Charles,” Chip said to the thickset man who’d driven us. Then he urged the muscular man to wheel him back into the house. We all followed behind.

The house was just as spectacular inside as it was outside. It was filled with wood that varied in color, from red through various shades of brown. Chip said it was all Brazilian rosewood, one of the most expensive types of wood, and I believed him. The rugs were Persian and looked every bit as impressive as the wood. The kitchen alone was the size of a small shop. I kept running my hands through my hair as we followed Chip through the house. A number of maids in striped dresses joined us.

The living room had the same feel as the rest of the house but was twice the size of the kitchen. There were numerous pictures hung on the walls. Lots showed Chip with a younger Michael—maybe during his teenage years—and another man who could have been Chip’s son.

I stopped and stared at one where Chip and the other man clapped as Michael held a big fish.

“I was only eleven back then,” Michael said.

“And even then there was nothing this boy couldn’t do,” Chip said.

I continued studying the picture. “Is that you dad?”

Michael nodded with pain in his eyes.

“He was a great man,” Chip said. “I’m so proud Michael turned out the way he did. Losing his parents at thirteen was just wrong.”

“Anyway, enough of that,” Michael said. “How about you guys get cleaned up?”

“I second that,” Curtis said. He followed one of the maids toward a hall. Doug and Manuel followed close behind with some more maids.

Michael started to turn, but I held him back. I leaned forward and whispered, “Does Chip know Curtis is a Shrinik?”

“I had to tell him. He’d have found out once Curtis went to the bathroom anyway.”

I smiled and retreated. Then I followed another maid down the hall, excited at the prospect of a shower.

Chapter Thirty-Five

I
grimaced when I saw a little over a third of my medication left. I added half a teaspoon to my glass of water and gulped it down. I knew such a small dosage wouldn’t last long, but it was either that or have no form of treatment for my headaches and body pains. Even if there were some other form, I wouldn’t know where to begin looking for it here in 2013. I looked at myself in the bathroom’s full-length mirror again and rested my gaze on the bags under my eyes. I was in desperate need of some sleep and a makeover.

“Rachel,” I heard Michael shout through the door. “You okay in there?”

“Just coming.” I splashed water onto my face, dried it off and walked back out.

Everyone was seated around the huge dining table. As with everything else in the house, it was made of Brazilian rosewood. I sat opposite Curtis, who looked like he had just come from a photo shoot, with his tight black T-shirt and matching pants. Manuel and Doug had changed into faded jeans and white T-shirts. It seemed strange that there was adequate clothing for all of us. It was like Chip had anticipated our arrival. That or he just kept all manner of clothing on hand.

“Where’s Chip?” I asked.

“He thought we needed some time to talk,” Michael said.

I shrugged. “So what now?”

Doug shook his head and looked deflated. “I still think it’s all over. They’ll see us coming from a mile off now. We didn’t achieve anything.” He nodded at me. “Odds are, Dylan isn’t even in this time anymore.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Curtis said.

I stared at him and felt my heart tighten. Was he about to give me fresh hope of finding Dylan?

“Because of us,” he continued, “they were forced to destroy the regional portal for North America.”

I scowled and turned toward the door that led to the corridor. What had I expected? That Curtis would just magically know where Dylan was? I still believed he was in 2013, though. Well, after everything that happened, it was now only hope that remained, but that was enough for me.

“But we didn’t get the master location, bro,” Manuel said.

“That doesn’t matter,” Curtis said. “Remember, they can’t just build a new regional portal anywhere. They have to make sure it’s secure and safe. It could take them months to find somewhere. No matter what we say, we’ve messed up their plans.”

“But we can’t let them build another one, right, peeps?” Manuel said. “We have to find the master site and find out what’s really going on.”

“And find out what happened to Rachel’s son?” Michael said.

No one spoke. I didn’t know how they all felt about going up against such formidable adversaries to save my baby. But our mission now felt like more than that. Sure, Dylan was my main motivation, but we also had to stop these rogue travelers, whoever they were, from causing all this damage to our planet.

Doug raised his hands. “Back to the same problem. To find the master portal, we need the journal.”

Michael pulled his cell out and typed on the screen.

“What’re you doing?” I asked.

He grimaced. “Trying to get some sort of idea when Carrie might throw another party, but no one seems to know.”

“That’s my job, sir.”

We all looked at the room’s entrance. Mandy walked in with a white dressing gown, the earlier pain now absent from her face. She held a computer tablet in her right hand

Michael stood up. “What’re you doing? You should be resting.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. No stupid gunshot wound will get me down.” She walked toward the table and Michael pulled a chair out for her. She fiddled with the tablet for a few seconds.

“What’re you looking for?” Doug said.

“If Carrie is doing anything soon, it’ll be on Twitter or Facebook.”

I laughed to myself. In my time, no one could do anything without putting it on Twitter or Facebook. I hadn’t known it was the same in 2013. We sat in silence, looking at Mandy and hoping she’d find something that could help us. The expression on her face kept changing from hopeful to anxious and back. I bit my fingernails. The suspense was killing me.

“Got it,” Mandy said.

We all ran behind her. She held the tablet in the air so we could see it. It was a tweet from someone with the username @JoannaReporter. It said: “First Family confirmed to attend Carrie Nicholas’ charity event for Preservation of Endangered Species. It looks like I’ll need to get my best dress out.”

“Yes.” Michael slapped the dining table a few times. “I knew it. That woman can’t help herself.”

“But what does that mean?” I said.

“Nothing,” Doug said. “If the first family will be there, there’ll be double, maybe triple security. Plus the secret service. How are we going to get in?”

Michael laughed. “Mandy?”

Mandy stood up and walked around the room. “Michael actually dined with President Bishop just a month ago. They’re very good friends.”

“You’re kidding,” Curtis said. “You’re literally one of them.”