Coin #2 - Quantum Coin (9 page)

“Hello?” Her voice came back out of the radio.

“Just an echo,” Jena said. She threw the microphone down in frustration.

“Hey, careful with that,” Zoe said.

“Is anyone there? Over.” The staticky voice spoke again—Jena's voice.

Jena and Zoe froze, staring at each other. They looked at the microphone. Neither of them had touched it.

Ephraim swallowed a mouthful of peanut butter painfully.
“That
wasn't an echo,” he said. He gulped the coffee to clear his throat and winced as the hot beverage scalded its way down his throat.

“That sounded like us,” Jena said.

“That's it! We've made contact!” Zoe snatched the microphone and tilted it toward her while Jena continued to hold on to the controller. “Hello! This is CHARON2. Is someone there? Come in. Over.”

“CHARON2, this is CHARON1. Am I ever glad to hear from you. Over.” This was becoming downright surreal—Jena and Zoe were speaking to another of their analogs.

“Finally! We've been trying you all night,” Zoe said. “CHARON1, is Nathaniel there? Over.”

“His hands are full,” the voice went on. “…multiverse…flux. I could lose your frequency again at any mo…can't keep this channel open for long. We need you here ASAP. Over.”

“We tried to shift to your universe, but something blocked us. Over,” Zoe said.

“Say again?”

“We couldn't shift to your universe,” Zoe repeated slowly.

“Excellent,” the voice said.

Ephraim, Jena, and Zoe exchanged a look. Why was that a good thing?

“Who's with you?” the voice asked.

“I'm Zoe Kim. I'm here with my analog Jena. And Ephraim Scott.”

There was a prolonged silence. Zoe released the microphone.

“Did we lose her?” Ephraim asked. He reached down to adjust the frequency, but Jena shook her head. The coin was steady, the signal was as strong as it was going to get.

Finally the voice from the radio spoke. “Ephraim's there?” She sounded hopeful. Relieved. “He has the coin?” A moment later: “Of course he has it if he's in your universe.”

Ephraim put his hand on Zoe's shoulder and leaned over the microphone. He nodded, and she squeezed the activator bar.

“Yes, I have the coin,” he said. “Hi. Uh, who's this?”

“Dr. Jena Kim,” she said.

Zoe dropped her hand from the microphone. “Doctor?” she asked.

“It's the future,” Ephraim said. “She wouldn't still be in high school. Even Michael Gupal couldn't get left back twenty-five times, and you're considerably smarter than him.”

“A doctor,” Jena said. “Dad would be so proud.”

“Hmph,” Zoe said.

“Are you still there? Hello?” Dr. Kim asked. “It's, um…3:06 a.m. here.”

Zoe glanced at the time on her VCR and squeezed the microphone. “The same here,” she said.

“Then our next window will be at 3:33,” Dr. Kim said. “We have…time it for periods with less quantum…ference. You live near Greystone Park…there by then?”

Zoe released the microphone. “What do we do?”

“This is what we've been waiting for,” Ephraim said.

“I'd feel better if I heard it from Nathaniel,” Zoe said. “I don't know this woman.”

“But she's us,” Jena said. “I say we go. It's better than sitting around here.”

“I guess we won't get any answers otherwise,” Ephraim said.

“Hello?” Dr. Kim called. “Are…there?”

Zoe leaned into the microphone and transmitted. “We'll be there,” she said.

“Splendid. Use the Charon…3:33 a.m.
precisely.”
Noise drowned her out. “see you. Ov—”

Zoe adjusted the tuner a couple of times, but the coin was flat and motionless, and the empty radio channel sizzled and sputtered back at them.

“She's gone,” she said. She switched off the radio and carefully stowed the microphone next to the headphones.

“Where are we supposed to go? I couldn't make it out,” Jena said.

“The fountain,” Ephraim and Zoe said.

“The one in the park?”

“It's a hunch,” Ephraim said. “The Memorial Fountain is located smack in the center of the Institute. It's where we dropped off Nathaniel last year.”

He reached for the coin in the controller, but he stopped an inch away from it when he felt the heat radiating from it. Instead, he used the pocket square from his tux to pick it up and let it cool. Even through the cloth, his hand tingled with energy. It felt like the coin could jump from his hand and flip itself.

“But we made contact, and we have a plan. Not bad for a night's work,” he said.

“I get the impression our work has just begun,” Zoe said.

Jena shuddered. “I hate hearing my own voice.”

“Thanks,” Zoe said. “But I know what you mean.” They both smiled.

“So we're headed back to the park. We can get there in ten minutes if we walk fast.” He yawned. “So much for sleep.”

“You weren't really planning to get any tonight, were you?” Zoe asked. He shot her a look. Zoe smiled slyly. “Sleep, I mean.”

Jena blushed. “I, for one, am too wired to sleep. I can't believe we actually talked to Grumps! Sort of.”

Zoe pulled a red hoodie out from under her bed, brushed off some dustballs, and tied it around her waist. She opened the top drawer of her dresser and pulled something out of it. Something dark and heavy, which she tucked into the back of her shorts. It looked like—

“Holy crap! Is that a gun?” Jena asked. “Where did you get a gun?” She whirled to face Ephraim. Her face had become a shade paler than Zoe's. “Why does she have a gun?”

“We confiscated it from Nate,” Ephraim said. “I can't believe you kept it, Zoe.”

“I live in a tough world,” she said. “Guns aren't dangerous if they're in the right hands.”

“No one should carry a gun around,” Jena said. “Least of all an eighteen-year-old woman.”

“You know that isn't true even in your universe,” Zoe said. “I don't expect you to understand. I know how to use it. I spend a lot of time at the shooting range at school.”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement,” Jena said.

“Whatever,” Ephraim said. “Just be careful with that, Zoe.”

She'd kept the controller. She'd kept the gun. He wondered what else she was keeping from him.

“Don't worry about me,” Zoe said. “I can handle myself.”

“I'm not worried about
you
,” Ephraim said. “Let's just go.”

Zoe snapped her fingers. “I need one more thing. Be right back,” she said and went into the bathroom.

“What did she forget? Nunchaku?” Jena asked.

Ephraim pulled on his tuxedo jacket and slid the coin in the handkerchief into the breast pocket. When Zoe returned a couple of minutes later, he caught the familiar glint of silver over her right nostril.

“You have a nose stud!” Jena said. “Dad must have freaked.”

“That was the idea. But it's kind of who I am now.” She smiled at Ephraim.

“It looks so badass on you. Maybe I'll get one in college,” Jena said. “Or a tattoo. If I can think of something I would want on my body for the rest of my life.”

Zoe frowned and pulled on a fingerless glove that covered the barcode on her wrist.

Ephraim looked at the two of them.

“We make an interesting trio,” he said. He tightened his bowtie.

“One guy in a tux and a pair of twins…this is the perfect setup for a sitcom,” Jena said.

“All we need are some wacky hijinks and an easily avoided misunderstanding,” Zoe said. She scratched at her nose.

Ephraim smiled. Now that Jena and Zoe were getting along, mostly, this situation might not be so bad after all. He was with two beautiful women who liked him, and he…

His smile faded. This situation could be more dangerous than he'd bargained for; he'd just realized that he might be caught between two women, and that never ended well, even in sitcoms.

Ephraim, Jena, and Zoe stared up at the chained and padlocked gates to Greystone Park.

“I think it's closed,” Ephraim said. The padlock was coated in reddish-brown rust. “Forever.”

“Let me guess: high crime rates in your universe?” Jena asked.

“An underground community of draft dodgers was squatting on the old estate,” Zoe said. “This is supposed to prevent that.”

She pointed out a crumbling section of the wall next to the gates. “Just do what I do,” she said.

Zoe scaled the wall, finding cracks and crevices to take hold of so easily it was clear she'd done this before, and often. Ephraim concentrated on watching where she placed her hands and feet instead of how good she looked doing it. He'd forgotten how much more athletic she was than Jena.

Zoe crouched on the wall on the balls of her feet, fingers pressed against the old stone in a classic Spider-Man pose, only with cleavage visible from her tank top.

“Who's next?” She stage-whispered, even though they probably were the only people around.

“Me,” Jena said. She cracked her knuckles and jogged in place for a moment. She pulled two paperbacks out of her sweatshirt pockets and handed them to Ephraim. “Carry my books, boyfriend?”

“My pleasure, madam.” He squinted at the covers in the soft yellow glow from the old-fashioned wrought-iron lampposts flanking the gates:
The Dark Tower
by C. S. Lewis and
The Sense of the Past
by Henry James. “Does Zoe know you stole these?” he asked.

“They're library books,” Jena said. “Consider them checked out.”

Jena climbed, more slowly and clumsily than Zoe at first, but she picked up speed as she went. Her calf muscles strained with the effort, and she had more trouble pulling herself up.

A foot away from the top, she hesitated, testing out a couple of toeholds. As she tentatively applied weight on her right foot, a section of the wall disintegrated, and she slipped with a short shriek.

Ephraim leapt forward to help. He reached up and pushed against her butt. Her right hand swung loose from the wall. Zoe was holding onto her left hand, her feet hooked over the far edge of the wall for leverage.

“I've got her,” he said. “You can let her go. Slowly.”

Zoe shook her head. “Push on three. One. Two…”

On three, he heaved Jena up, and Zoe hauled her up with both hands. Jena grabbed onto the wall with her right hand, pulled herself over, and sprawled on her stomach on the top of the wall.

“Thanks,” Jena gasped. She remained flat on her stomach and pivoted around until she was lying lengthwise along the one-foot-wide wall, looking like a contented cat. She rested her head on her hands and gave Ephraim a Cheshire grin. “And
you.
Watch where you put your hands, mister.”

Ephraim stared at the wall. Jena's struggle had collapsed more of it, knocking out several bricks he had planned to use as footholds.

“Now how do I join you two?” he asked.

“Maybe there's another section that's easier to climb,” Jena said.

He scanned the wall, squinting at the long shadows cast by the moonlight and the flickering fluorescent glow of the light inside the dilapidated bus shelter.

He prodded the wall, watching for more crumbling gray bricks. “I can do this,” he said. He tossed Jena her books one at a time, and she caught them easily.

He backed up about ten feet and looked up at Jena and Zoe, their silhouettes dark against the sky so he wasn't sure which was which, aside from their positions. “Catch me?” he asked.

“Catch you?”
Jena said. “Hold on—”

But Ephraim was already racing toward the wall as if he intended to smash headlong into it. He nearly broke off his approach, but instead he leaped as high as he could, his right sneaker catching the first toehold Zoe had found. He used his momentum to push him up and to the left, boosting himself on a lateral crack in the wall and up the rest of the way. Broken brick and mortar tumbled under him.

His hands scrabbled painfully against the rough stone, and he took one last step on a section that cascaded down immediately. But he had enough speed now to launch him almost to the top of the wall.

He reached out, and Zoe and Jena each grabbed one arm, tugging him up and forward, like they were breaking a giant wishbone. His right shin banged against the corner of the wall, and his left scraped along the top. Soon he was kneeling shakily between the two women.

In his head, he'd imagined it like a ninja scaling a cliff face, but in practice he'd probably never looked more awkward. It was a good thing Nathan hadn't been there to witness it with his camera.

Zoe stretched her arms and winced. “That was—”

“Impressive?” Ephraim said. He stood to take a bow and nearly lost his balance.

“Stupid,” Jena said. “Next time a little more warning, huh? Or hire a stunt double.”

“Ha ha,” he said.

“Even you have to respect the laws of physics, Ephraim,” Zoe said.

“Not if they don't respect me.”

They lowered themselves down the other side of the wall before dropping the rest of the way. Ephraim felt the shock of impact in his feet and legs but shook it off, and they headed toward the fountain.

Like the library, the old Memorial Fountain was untended and overgrown with weeds. It was in worse shape than when he'd last seen it; the cement basin was cracked down the length of its middle, bisecting it in two halves. It was full of mounds of trash: discarded cans, broken bottles, Styrofoam cartons, condoms, and plastic wrappers. The bronze statue of Atlas in the middle was tarnished, black in the darkness. Withered vines twined around his legs and obscured his chest, dry remnants dangling from his arms.