Choices

Choices – A Time Travel Novella

Cate Dean

Copyright 2012. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except for use in any review. This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, locales, and events are either pure invention or used fictitiously. No character is based on or inspired by any known or unknown persons, and all incidents come from the author’s imagination alone.

Cover design by
SM Reine

The choices we make can change our destiny.

Maura Hart has spent the last three years hiding from the choice that tore away the life she knew and the people she loved. Now she is finally taking small steps out of isolation, back into the world.

The first person she reaches out to turns her life upside down, throwing her into a not-so-distant future – where what she does is now a death sentence, and the only man she can trust may also be her executioner.

She has three windows of time, three narrow chances to return home. To do so, she needs to trust the man she shouldn’t, learn to forgive what she never thought could be forgiven, and make the one choice that will change her life forever.

It is in forgiving others

that we learn to forgive ourselves.

U
sing her oversized leather bag as a shield, Maura Hart made her way through the crowded hallway.

She expected the university building to be deserted in the rush for spring break freedom, so walking into the noise and confusion startled her. Especially when she had not been in a crowd for almost three years.

Making her way to the woman with the clipboard, trying not to flinch every time some carelessly flung arm slapped at her, Maura felt battered by the time she reached her goal.

“Excuse me.” She had to yell above the echoing shouts and squees. The woman swung around, then dropped her gaze to Maura, eyebrows raised. “I’m here to see Dr. Lang.”

“A little old for this trial, aren’t you?”

“Trial . . .” Maura had forgotten about Dr. Lang’s latest research interest: teenagers and social media. No wonder the hall was packed. Nothing motivated teenagers more than getting paid for playing online. She may have locked herself away from everyday life, but she did keep up with it. “That was today?”

The woman sighed. “You on his list?”

“I don’t—he called me this morning, asked me to come and see him. He’s helping me with research for my novel—”

“Hart, Maura—yep, he told me to look out for you. His assistant is doing the initial interviews, so you’ll have him all to yourself. He’s in the biology lab—no, he’s right behind you.”

Maura turned around, finding the tall, rake thin science professor standing in the open doorway.

“I am thrilled that you agreed to meet with me, Maura.” He laid one hand on her arm, his touch less than welcome. “Come, there is something I want to show you. Something I’ve wanted you to see since we first met.”

“Dr. Lang.” Maura followed him into his classroom, the door swinging shut behind her on its self-closing hinges. She rubbed her forehead as the sharp, continuous tap of his mahogany cane worsened the headache she woke up with just before dawn. “I only came because you promised to give me the information this time, so I can finish my book research—”

She almost ran into him when he stopped. Anger scored his light voice.

“What were they thinking? Right in the pathway—someone may have damaged it.”

When he limped forward she saw the reason for his abrupt halt. A monstrosity masquerading as art stood between the first two waist high tables, and looked like it would be the one inflicting any damage. Maura hiked her oversized leather bag on her shoulder, stepped to his side for a better view of the thing.

Ragged bronze strips crisscrossed each other, forming a tall, lopsided sphere that shouldn’t be standing upright. It managed, somehow, clinging to its crooked wooden base. Dr. Lang brushed his finger along a crudely formed strip.

“A gift, from one of my students. Sometimes their generosity astonishes me.”

“Dr. Lang.” With an effort, she kept the impatience out of her voice, tried to bring him back to the reason for this meeting—her last, if she could just pry what she needed out of him. “Why don’t we—”

“What I want you to see is just back here.” He gestured to the far side of the classroom and gripped her wrist with his free hand. His meager lips all but disappeared when he smiled, the expression animating his gaunt face. “It is finally finished, after so many years, and you will be the first to experience it.”

“I don’t have much time—”

“You have time for this, my dear.” Maura let him guide her through the obstacle course of books and boxes spread across the floor of the biology lab, afraid she would hurt him if she tried to free herself. “I give you my word, it will be more spectacular than you ever imagined.”

They stopped in front of a narrow door she hadn’t seen before, almost hidden by the sagging bookshelf that crouched over his desk. He slipped a key into the deadbolt, shiny new against the battered wood.

“I have waited so long to show you this, Maura.” He pushed the door open.

Sound blasted her. She covered one ear with her left hand, tried to tuck the other into her shoulder as he pulled her inside. Machines crowded the small room, lined up around a rectangular glass booth. They threw their multicolored lights across the glass, in blinding counterpoint to the racket. Thick soundproofing wrapped every inch of the room.

“Isn’t it magnificent?” Her head snapped around at the fervor edging his light voice. Dr. Lang set his cane against the booth, caressed its bubbled surface like the face of a lover. “I never thought I’d be able to test it. Volunteers don’t walk in off the street for unproven relativity experiments!”

Her heart lurched—and the easy grip on her wrist became a shackle when she tried to free herself. “Let me go—”

“I was afraid your reaction might be less than enthusiastic.” He sighed, sounding disappointed. “I wanted to give you a wonderful experience—the chance of a lifetime. I didn’t want this to be necessary.” He reached into his jacket and produced a syringe, liquid glistening on the end of the thick needle. Maura jerked out of his grip, no longer caring if she hurt him.

Faster than she thought possible he caught her hand and yanked her forward. “You can’t deny me now, Maura. From the moment you walked into my lab I knew you were the one. This is preordained.”

“Like hell it is.” She twisted away from him, gasping as the needle gouged the top of her right hand. When he came after her she swung her overstuffed bag off her shoulder and slammed it into his chest. The heavy bag knocked him backward. She stumbled from the impact, falling against the doorframe.

“
NO!
You can’t leave me, Maura—you’re mine!”

The rage piercing his voice shoved her off the doorframe and into the chaos of the lab. She used her bag to clear a path, heading for the noise, the freedom of the corridor.

The
whoosh
of displaced air warned her almost too late.

She spun. The cane struck her right shoulder instead of her skull, threw her into the nearest table. She let out a cry as pain ripped through her.

Dr. Lang braced himself against the table behind him and raised the cane again.

Maura jerked sideways. Mahogany splintered against the table edge where she had just been, wood vibrating under her hand.
Move—

She obeyed, her shoulder throbbing as she darted around the last table.

The ugly sculpture appeared in front of her. Skidding on the linoleum, she tried to stop. The thing seemed to leap at her and they collided, her right leg slamming into the raw edges. She lost her balance and the sculpture took her down.

“Look what you’ve done.” Dr. Lang knelt beside her, pulled her left leg out of the crumpled sphere, bruised and smarting. “You shouldn’t have run from me, Maura. To be my chronicler, to see what our future holds, and go where I can only dream—it is the greatest honor I can give you.”

Clutching her right leg, he began an excruciating tug of war to free her. The sculpture refused to give her up. Jagged bronze tightened its grip with every jerk, sawing through her silk skirt and into bared skin. Maura caught the sleeve of his jacket, desperate to stop the agony grinding her leg.

“Dr. Lang—”

“Keep still, and keep quiet. I’ve almost got you free.” He leaned in, his breath hot on her cheek. “If anyone comes through that door because of you, I will be forced to harm them.”

Swallowing, she nodded, let him go, pressed her hands against the floor. She bit her lip—and arched off the floor when a final, vicious yank pulled her clear.

When she could see again, she found him hovering over her, an open first aid kit beside him. In too much pain to stop him, she endured his invasive touch, sucked in her breath as he peeled the skirt off her leg. He dug a small bottle out of the kit and poured its contents on a gauze pad.

“This might sting.” His warning was a gross understatement. The gauze scraped across her wounds, spilled liquid fire in its wake. Bony hands stopped her when she recoiled, forced her back to the cushion of her bag. “It’s all right, Maura.”

“Please—it burns—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

He mopped at the blood trickling down the sides of her thigh, then spread ointment over her leg and bandaged it from hip to knee. She focused on the ceiling to keep from screaming, tears sliding back into her hair. Good as his word, the pain finally settled to a constant but tolerable burn.
The man may be insane, but he didn’t lie—oh, God let this be a nightmare—

“Dr. Lang—please let me go.”

“I can’t, Maura. You were sent to me, for this purpose, because no one here will miss you.”

His words ripped at her, grief tearing away the thin barrier of protection she had built, minute by minute, over the last three years. It laid open her soul, the wounds as fresh and raw as the day she killed her parents.

He sat her up, draped her left arm across his shoulders, grabbing her bag as he used the closest stool to slowly lever them both to their feet. Maura clutched his jacket; pain scorched her leg when he started moving them forward.

“Stay with me—that’s it, you’re stronger than you think.” She ignored his pep talk, focused on staying upright. “We’re here, Maura.”

She lifted her head, surrounded by the machines he so fervently believed in. They were silent now. Waiting.

“This is the transport. Touch it—I want this to be real for you.”

“I’m not—”

“Look at me.” She obeyed, flinching from his anger. “There’s no turning back, for either of us. Do you understand me? You are the final component—my connection to the future. I won’t let you go.”

He pulled her forward. Maura lowered her head, swallowed the scream clawing her throat.

“Your journey will begin here.”

She looked up. A wide, steel chair stood in front of her, equipped with a series of restraining belts, and riveted to the floor. Bubbled glass framed it, reached around the chair to embrace her. Her throat tightened as she turned her head, followed the line of glass to the door behind her.

God, no—

They were inside the transport.

“Move to the chair, Maura.”

“You don’t have to do this—”

“I won’t tell you again.” His grip on her left no room for argument.

When she didn’t move he dragged her toward the chair. His bad leg brushed hers, quivering, a sharp breath escaping him with every step. The drill instructor clip of her self-defense teacher’s voice leapt into her mind.

“Never give the asshole complete control. You do what you need to survive—don’t think you can Nancy-girl your way out, because he’s just waiting for you to submit. Fight him with whatever you’ve got. No matter how weak you think you are, surprise is always a damn strong defense.”

Maura followed her teacher’s advice. Bracing for what she had to do, she let herself stumble. When Dr. Lang turned toward her she jammed her right knee into his leg. Pain exploded through her.

He fell—and took her with him. She slammed against the glass wall, her good leg buckling under her.

“Maura—please tell me you didn’t harm yourself—” She jerked away from the moist fingers touching her, moaned at the fresh burst of pain. “You are too vital—I can’t replace you, not now. Not when I’m so close. You need to stop fighting me.”

She heard him next to her, cursing under his breath. Her mind screamed at her to run. Her body retaliated when she tried to move.

Without any warning he grabbed her wrists and hauled her upright.

The sudden pressure on her leg wrenched a cry out of her. Focused on staying conscious, she didn’t realize how far he’d taken her until the cold touch of steel shocked through her. He bent over her, strapping her left wrist to the arm of the chair. The chair inside the transport.