Erasing Time (21 page)

The man in charge tucked his comlink neatly into his belt. “Helix wants her. She isn’t at the Histocenter, though. She and one of your wordsmiths vanished from the building after Helix’s first call. We’ve got a track on them, so we’ll have them here soon.” His words were almost an accusation, a threat that the wordsmiths had better not interfere anymore. Echo straightened, refusing to show signs of intimidation. Intimidation implied guilt.

He lifted a hand in feigned frustration. “
You scared off the other one too?
Don’t you understand the delicacy of the twenty-first-century mind? These girls came from a violent time. Any hint of danger is likely to set them off like cosmic rays!” Echo clenched his jaw to force a flush of angry color into his face. “I’ll speak to Helix about your incompetence. Beep me as soon as he comes. Right now I’m going to find Jeth, and we’ll put together a formal report about this.”

Echo turned and walked to the entrance, muttering insults about the science profession. And they let him go. He walked right out of the Scicenter without another question.

Once outside, he signaled for a car, then found the nearest trash incinerator and dropped his comlink inside it. When the car arrived, he climbed in and sat exhausted against its seat. He couldn’t return to the Histocenter. It had only been luck that those men had let him go. They’d been so relieved to catch Taylor and so flustered by his accusations that they hadn’t processed the matter clearly in their minds.

The story about Helix’s tracker being frozen,
pues
, it was only going to take one check to realize that was fiction. Helix would know Echo was hiding something. Worst of all, when the scientists tried to use the Time Strainer again, Helix would figure out what Echo had done.

Would it be just a memory wash or death they ordered for him?

He could hide out among the crowds of Traventon for a while, but eventually the government would devise a way to track his crystal.

He thought of Taylor, kicking her way to the detention center, and Sheridan—out somewhere—with Enforcers closing in on her.

There was only one place he could go to for help now. He set the car’s coordinates for Caesar’s apartment and shut his eyes as the car hummed toward its destination.

Sheridan sat stiffly in the car, watching the Histocenter through the back window. Four Enforcers rushed out the building’s door, each going a different direction, searching for her on the grounds.

She shrank down in the seat, even though she knew no one could see through the car’s tinted windows. The melodic voice on the car’s radio said, “A loyal citizen is a content citizen. We handle the complex, so your life can be simple. Simply fun. Simply easy. Simply a rank above the rest.”

Sheridan kept watching the window. She didn’t know whether the men could track the car since Elise had used her crystal to activate it, or whether they could only track Elise’s present location. Sheridan waited, half holding her breath to see if any other cars emerged from the parking garage to chase her. None did.

She didn’t relax. Too many fears rushed through her mind, tumbling her thoughts like fallen leaves in the wind. What would the Enforcers do when they found Elise?

Worse, what would they do to Taylor?

Sheridan gulped, struggling against the feeling of helplessness that engulfed her. From the moment she had woken up in Traventon, she had always depended on the fact that Taylor could get them to safety. Now Sheridan was alone and Taylor was—But that was the horrible part: she didn’t know what had happened to Taylor. Maybe she would never know.

Sheridan shook her head, pushing away these dark thoughts. She didn’t want to believe that Echo had turned Taylor over to the Dakine. Echo had masked his signal because he was breaking into the Scicenter, and he hadn’t answered his comlink for the same reason. It didn’t mean he had kidnapped Taylor.

The voice on the radio cooed out, “The government takes care of you. Take care of the government. Report any disloyal behavior you see to the Enforcement Department.”

Sheridan noticed her hands were shaking. She sat on them to stop the trembling, and then found herself rocking back and forth on her seat. How could she help Taylor when she didn’t even know where she was?

Think
, Sheridan told herself. Taylor always said a person could find a solution to any problem if they just thought about it hard enough. Well, now Sheridan had plenty of problems; she needed some solutions.

Think of something.

Think of something.

Think of something.

Her mind whirled, and she couldn’t stop it for long enough to think of possibilities, let alone solutions. She didn’t even know where she was going or if anyone would be there to help her.

The car stopped. Was she at Salima Street already? She glanced at the control panel. The light that represented her car wasn’t even halfway to the starred destination. The car hadn’t lost power. The radio was still going on about the virtues of the government.

She peered out the window. Other cars were stopped too. Was it some sort of energy-grid malfunction? Maybe she would have to get out of the car and walk. She studied the lighted map on the dashboard, trying to memorize the directions to Los Angeles Park. If only she had something to write with.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement on the street. She looked up to see several Enforcers skimming around other stopped cars, rushing toward hers. Sheridan pressed her hands against the car door. “Open,” she said. “Open right now.” When it didn’t, she hit it with her fist, then turned to the control panel and pushed everything that looked like a button and several things that didn’t. “Let me out of here!”

The Enforcers were in front of her now, descending on the car like spiders ready to wrap their prey.

She searched the interior of the car for something to use as a weapon. Anything. There was nothing.

The doors slid open. She didn’t see the faces of the men, only their hands. They reached into the car pointing laser boxes.

She heard a ripping sound, saw flashes, then her body tightened as every muscle contracted. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs refused to move. The last thing she heard was the soothing voice on the car radio. “Happiness can’t be purchased. Happiness can only be given to you by the city.”

Slowly, Sheridan’s thoughts began to assemble themselves. Her fingers throbbed. Her limbs felt unnaturally heavy. Numb. She tried to move her hands and found them cuffed behind her back. She tested her legs. They were restrained too. She blinked, struggling to make sense of what was happening.

Two men were carrying her into the Scicenter. She wanted to move, to say something, but the numbness that had overtaken her body hadn’t completely left her brain. Were they going to do a memory wash on her now?

She didn’t want to forget her life, or Taylor, or Echo—although she wasn’t sure what she wanted to remember the most about him: that he had kissed her, or that he was Dakine.

Why couldn’t she think straight?

That had been her problem in the car. She couldn’t think her way out of her problems. Taylor would be so disappointed.

Sheridan lifted her head, and one of the men said, “She’s awake.”

She turned her head to see her captor—an orange-faced man wearing a black Enforcer’s helmet. He looked back at her with stark contempt, so she turned her head away from him. It was getting easier to move. Her muscles were slowly warming and losing their stiffness.

The first man shifted his hands to get a better grip on her. “You gave us quite a time, little runner. We had to go through a kilo of tracking to find your car.”

He turned his attention to the other Enforcer. “We should ask Helix to authorize a priority crystal implant on them both. We can’t have them evaporating into air again.”

The orange-faced man shook his head. “Helix wants them in detention until he’s through with them. No chance they’ll turn into vikers there.”

Vikers? Through with them? What was Helix planning? She almost asked, then, with a jolt of returning clarity, remembered she wasn’t supposed to be able to communicate with people from the future. She didn’t want to let them know she understood them.

The men stopped in front of a metal door and set her on her feet. A detention cell, she supposed. The orange-faced man bent down and removed the bands that restrained her legs but left her arms shackled. She lost her balance, took a wobbling step, and straightened up. It felt like she was stepping on pins.

One of the Enforcers pushed the door button. Even before it had completely slid open, Sheridan recognized Taylor’s voice. It was raspy and hoarse, probably from yelling. Maybe from screaming. “I don’t know anything about it,” she said wearily. “I’m not who you’re looking for.”

The room looked like some sort of office. Computers, desks, and chairs lined the walls. Taylor was strapped into a chair in the middle of the room. A man with green hair and matching green lips leaned over her, menacingly. His face contorted into a sneer, and he slapped Taylor across the face. It must not have been the first time. Her cheeks were covered in bright red patches, and a trail of blood leaked from a corner of her mouth.

The man raised his hand again, and Sheridan lunged toward him. “Stop it!” She meant to kick him; she still had use of her feet.

One of the Enforcers grabbed Sheridan’s hair and yanked her backward. Pain shot through her head and she stumbled, nearly falling to the ground. The green-haired man smirked at Sheridan, then struck Taylor again. The smack reverberated through the room, as did Taylor’s cry.

The green-haired man straightened, tugged his shirt back into place, and let his gaze run over Sheridan. When he spoke, his accent was different from the ones she’d heard in Traventon. A mix between the past and the future. “Perhaps your twin is the one we’re searching for then. Should she take your place in this chair?”

Taylor’s chin dropped against her chest. Her words slurred. “You made a mistake. Why can’t you accept that?”

The man turned away from Taylor and walked toward Sheridan with slow steps. “Perhaps you’re right. Neither one of you looks smart enough to wipe your own snot, let alone build a QGP.”

Sheridan hadn’t noticed how old he was before. The strength of his blows made him seem young, but as he came toward her, she saw wrinkles sagging across his face like crooked cornrows. His jowls sank into his neck.

He stood in front of Sheridan, his face nearly level with hers. That was odd. All the men she’d met in Traventon were much taller. The rank badge on his shirt read 43, which meant looks didn’t play into rank nearly as much as power did.

A smile turned up his lips as though he was playing the host. “You came in here ready to take me on even though your hands are cuffed. Are you brave, or just stupid?”

Probably stupid. “Brave,” she said.

He nodded. “Glad to hear you’re not stupid, because if you’ve a gram of intelligence, you’ll tell me everything I want to know immediately. Are you Tyler Sherwood?” His jowls moved up and down as he spoke. Something about them tapped at the corner of her memory, and a moment later she knew what.

He was older, decades older than the picture she’d seen, but it was the same man.

“You’re Reilly,” she said.

His green eyebrows rose in surprise. “You know who I am?”

“Yes. You’re a thief and a murderer.”

Taylor tilted her head back against her chair and let out a slow moan. Sheridan knew what Taylor was thinking as well as if she had said the words out loud.
Don’t tell him you know who he is. To tell him is to admit you have a reason to know him, to admit you’re connected with Tyler Sherwood. Think it through!

But Sheridan
was
thinking it through. Reilly already knew one of them was Tyler Sherwood. If they kept denying the fact, it would lead to more beatings. Eventually, Taylor would give in and tell him the truth. If one of them had to admit to being Tyler Sherwood, it should be Sheridan. It had to be, because she couldn’t possibly betray any scientific knowledge.

“A thief and a murderer?” Reilly’s face swung in threateningly close to hers, so close she could smell the scent of coffee on his breath. “I was the greatest mind of the twenty-first century.”

“Well, I’m not sure about your mind, but you’re certainly the most lively four-hundred-year-old man I’ve ever seen.”

“Brave and flippant. Dangerous characteristics for someone who’s handcuffed.” Reilly motioned to one of the men behind her, and Sheridan winced. He wanted someone to hold her so she couldn’t run while he hit her.

Instead, the enforcer took off her handcuffs.

Sheridan brought her hands in front of her and rubbed her wrists, eyeing Reilly warily. “How did you get here?” she asked. “Did the Time Strainer bring you here?” And if so, what had happened to age him so dramatically—an accident? She was not quite so brave or so flippant as to ask him that.

His lips twitched in between a smile and a frown. “I brought myself here inadvertently.” While he spoke, he turned and leaned against a desk, nearly sitting on it. “I made a careless error while I was putting the finishing touches on the quark-gluon plasma converter. I can admit that, you see, because part of being a great scientist is knowing when you’ve made an error and knowing how to correct it.”