Forever Until Tomorrow (War Eternal Book 5) (23 page)

The laughter meant that Lyle's action hadn't disrupted the plan at all. It had only made the whole thing more amusing.

Mitchell scanned the rest of the diners in the car. Most had stopped moving and talking at the sight of Lyle with the gun. Some were sitting in shocked silence while others were trying to flee the car.

"Slaves are harder to come by in this part of the timeline," the Watson said, tapping his skull. "No hardwired neural implants to overwhelm. The threat you're looking for isn't on the train."

"Where is it?" Lyle asked, pushing the barrel into the side of the configuration's head.

"Like I said, I knew where you were going. Or at least, I had a well-educated guess. It's rather unfortunate for the other four trains you aren't on, but such is the way of things."

Lyle glanced at Mitchell. Mitchell nodded.

He pulled the trigger.

The passengers screamed as the configuration's brain splattered against the window. Mitchell slid out of his seat.
 

"Timeline?" Lyle said. "Neural implants?"

"Later. This train is going to-"

The entire thing shook, the explosion a deafening bang. Mitchell grabbed the seat pulling himself down into it. Lyle did the same, pushing the corpse to the side so he could reach the emergency belts.
 

The passengers continued to scream, losing balance and falling over one another. Dishes crashed to the floor and shattered, and the shaking intensified.

"This is going to hurt," Mitchell said. "Relax your body."

"Relax?" Lyle said.

A second massive bang as their car slammed into the one in front. The sound of twisting metal followed and the car began to lift up and rotate at the same time. Mitchell closed his eyes, letting his body fall limp. It was one of the hardest things to do, and also one of the most effective at surviving a collision without injury. It was one of the first things he had learned during basic mech training. Mech training?
 

The car turned over and came down, slamming hard into the ground and sending passengers flying. He felt the bodies bumping into him. He felt the warmth of someone's blood wipe across his face. He heard the screams silenced, replaced with more bending framework, and a roar like a massive engine. He knew they were rolling by the way his limbs were moving, flopping around limply, his body held in place by the straps. Had Max been strapped in? He tried to remember. He wasn't sure.

He was a few cars back, and might have avoided some of the force of the impact, but not much. Maglevs weren't meant to crash. He doubted one had ever crashed before, but if the Watson configuration had been telling the truth, five would crash today.
 

The Corporal was most likely dead.

It felt like hours. It was over in seconds. The car stopped moving, coming to rest on its side. Mitchell opened his eyes. Broken glass, bent metal, bodies, body parts, blood, and smoke. He was hanging on his side. He took control of his muscles once more, shifting and releasing the restraints, coming to rest on his feet. Lyle was on the other side of the table, not moving.

"Carson," Mitchell said. His legs were shaky from the adrenaline. He made his way over to the Detective and checked his pulse. Alive. Hopefully unbroken. He scanned the passengers in search of survivors.
 

There weren't any.

He unstrapped Lyle, slinging him over his shoulder. Watson was here, had been here for years before the Goliath had arrived.
 

They were all in trouble.

Mitchell carried Lyle across the wrecked car, finding a section of rooftop that had been torn away and exiting through it. He came out into an open space between derailed cars, looking forward at the carnage ahead, and back at the destruction behind. A long trail of debris and scorched earth lay behind them. He doubted anyone could still be alive.

He walked with Lyle over his shoulder, out past the damage toward a line of trees. They were somewhere near Denver, far enough that he didn't see any signs of immediate civilization and close enough that he didn't feel lost. He had grown up on Earth. An Earth nearly four hundred years ahead of this one, but the same planet. He had been to Denver. He doubted it had changed much. Technology hadn't progressed the way it should have since the Dove had launched. Li'un Tio, the Knife, had always questioned why. Mitchell had a bad feeling he knew the answer.
 

The Tetron were more deeply ingrained with humankind than they had realized. Was that the reason a copy of Origin had remained behind? Was that the reason she had deleted almost every reference to Katherine Asher from the data archives? It made sense.

It was also terrifying.

They couldn't beat the Tetron in the future. Would they be able to defeat them here?

They must have before if the Goliath continued to return to the future. If not defeat them, then outmaneuver them and force them to bide their time.

The Tetron had nothing but time, and this recursion was different. Watson was here, with his broken understanding of emotion and his damaged sense of logic. The Mesh was broken. He had forgotten until now. They had planned this. They needed Watson to be here. Why?

He had to get to Katherine. He had to find Origin.

He put Lyle down under a tree, and then went back to the wreckage, searching for the passenger car Max had been in. He would help any survivors he could find as well, but he needed Vape's duffel. Just because the crash was over didn't mean Watson wouldn't send anything to make sure he had died. He needed to be able to defend himself.

He made his way along the trail of chaos, finding their car upside down and half-crumpled against another one. The smell of blood was thick enough to taste. Would emergency crews be coming soon? If they did, could he trust them?

He entered the car, stepping over the bodies until he reached their cabin. He took a deep breath before he grabbed the door and yanked it open.

He released it. The cabin was empty. No Max. No duffel. Where the hell had the Corporal gone? Was he under Watson's control?

He saw the emergency belt on his seat was cut. He had been in the crash, and he had survived. Where was he?

He left the cabin, walking the length of the car back toward the exit. Katherine and Origin were in trouble. But if Origin found Katherine, she could take care of her. Couldn't she? If he went to them, he would be giving the Tetron one massive target to hit. Was that the play he wanted to make?

Watson was out there, his core connected to the Internet, his eyes everywhere the millions of cameras in the world could follow, his ears listening for any sign of them. He wanted Mitchell dead, but he wanted Origin alive. Why?
 

He came out of the train car distracted by the thoughts.
 

He didn't notice the man standing on the upright bottom of the train behind him.

He shouted as the man slammed into him from behind, knocking him forward and sending him sprawling. Off-guard, but not defenseless. He recovered quickly, turning over and kicking out before he saw his attacker. His foot caught the man in the knee, cracking it hard and sending him stumbling back. He saw his opponent then, a muscular guy in a bloody suit. A configuration? Or a slave?

He pushed himself to his feet, taking a defensive posture against the man, who seemed to know how to fight.
 

"Why don't you die?" the man said, charging at him, attempting to grapple.
 

Mitchell stepped aside, lashing out with a foot that caught the man in the gut. He expected the man to lose his breath, but instead he grabbed Mitchell's leg and twisted, forcing Mitchell to fall or risk having it broken. He yanked the foot away, bracing himself as the man fell on top of him. He put his arms up in front of his head as the slave threw heavy punches at him.

"Why don't you die?" the man shouted. "Why don't you die?"
 

He repeated it over and over, becoming more and more angry with each blow. Mitchell kept his arms up, bearing the brunt of the attack on them, the old scars burning with each strike. He needed an opening to get his own attack in, to throw his assailant off-balance and get back on his feet. He was rusty. Sloppy. It had been too long.
 

"Why don't you-"

The man's voice cut off, replaced with the crack of a gun. Mitchell saw the left side of his head burst out, the force pulling the body off him behind it. He turned his head. Max was standing a hundred meters distant, weapon in hand.

"Yeah, keep yelling, bro," Max shouted. "Nobody will find you that way." He ran over to Mitchell, extending his hand. It was wrapped in cloth, the blood soaking through. "Needs some stitches. No biggie."

Mitchell took it, letting Max pull him to his feet.
 

"Thanks," he said.

"Anytime. I was looking for a little action. I wasn't expecting this."

"You were wearing your restraints. Why?"

"Always do, Captain. Habit of mine. I was in a VTOL crash during the war. Only survivor, thanks to wearing my belt. Technology can frig up anytime, and now that's twice I've beaten it." He turned his head, surveying the scene. "Carson?"

"Over by those trees," Mitchell said, pointing.

"Alive?"

"So far. He may have internal damage. I don't know."

"Let's hope not. He owes me fifty bucks."

"Why?"

"I bet him we wouldn't make it to New York without running into trouble. He thinks he knows because he's a Detective. He doesn't know shit."

"What do you know?" Mitchell asked.

"I know to always wear my safety belt." He smiled. "I also know that you're the kind of guy that trouble always seems to find. And, I know how this shit works. There're a million ways the AIT could have gotten eyes on you, a million pockets they could have lined."

Mitchell didn't bother to tell him how Watson had tracked them down. It didn't matter. "Keep that gun close. As far as I'm concerned, everyone is an enemy until proven otherwise."

"Hooo. It's that bad?"

"The AIT just crashed five maglevs to get to me."

"Five? Shit. It is that bad. Looks like I found a party. I've got your six, Captain."

Mitchell started walking toward the trees where he had left Lyle.
 

Watson wanted something from Origin.
 

He had to figure out what.

Mitchell and Max carried Lyle away from the scene of the crash, hiking two miles through the trees to escape the carnage before emergency services arrived. There was no way for them to know if those first responders would be friendly, or if they would be acting of their own free will.
 

There was no way to be sure about anyone.

Mitchell had no idea what the people of the world were going to make of five maglevs exploding at the same time. Would there be a stronger call to do something about the AIT, now that they had raised their violent protest to unprecedented levels? Or would Watson find another way to spin the disaster, manipulating the facts the meet his needs?
 

The Detective woke up an hour later. They had stopped to rest by then, with the understanding that they were only ten miles outside of Denver. Max had checked their location on his AR glasses, right before Mitchell had taken them and thrown them away. He had followed that up by explaining the situation to the Corporal while leaving out the fact that he was essentially a time traveler. He was sure that would come out soon enough.
 

"Carson," Mitchell said as Lyle opened his eyes and looked around, trying to figure out where he was.

"Mitchell. What the hell happened? My head is killing me."

"You might have a concussion. What do you remember?"

"Walking into the dining car. Seeing you with that guy. You looked upset, so I eavesdropped a little."

"What did you hear?"

Lyle blinked a few times. "I think I know what I heard, but if I hit my head, I'm not sure it was real." He turned his head to look at Mitchell. "Something about recursion and timelines." He fell silent for a few seconds. "Who are you?"