Reversion (The Narrows of Time Series Book 3) (3 page)

He turned his thoughts to the mission. “If I’ve been here a day, that means that today is—”

“Friday, December twenty-first.”

“Yeah, 2012,” he added, realizing that the first window of opportunity to change the past was fast approaching. His other self and Drew would soon be prepping to run the antigravity experiment in their lab tonight. “I really need to go. I can’t be here right now.”

“You’re not going anywhere with that knee.”

“Look, I appreciate the concern, but I have something important I need to do. Lives depend on it.”

“I’m sorry, but it’ll have to wait.”

He was trapped, with no leverage to debate the issue. A super-hot Asian chick had him strapped to a table and was performing Zen-level voodoo crap on his knee. He needed to know more about her. Was he at the mercy of some wacko, or was she really trying to help?

“Am I a prisoner?”

“No, but if you leave now, you run the risk of a serious infection, and I can’t allow that. I know you said lives are at stake, and even if that’s true, you need to rest and let yourself heal. You can’t help anyone right now, not until you’re better. Then we’ll talk about what comes next.”

Lucas let his head drop back to the table, exhaling. “This is unbelievable.”

“Patience,” she said. “Let the medicine work. It won’t take long.”

“What type of treatment is this?”

“One designed for a snakebite. Once the healing medicine has been ignited, it works its way down through the needles and into your immune system, releasing powerful antibodies and other healing magic.”

“Sounds like antivenom. Or should I say,
magic
antivenom.”

“Something like that. Now relax. You’ll be able to free climb in a few days, once the swelling dissipates.”

Free climb? Where did she get that from? Lucas thought about it for a moment, then remembered what he was wearing when he fell off the cliff. The Smart Skin Suit might look like some type of uniform to her. Possibly even mountain climber’s garb. She must have undressed him while he was unconscious and slipped on the white robe he was wearing.

“Where was I when you found me?”

“Under a stand of scrub oak, in a dry wash near the edge of a cliff. Not far from the Catalina Mountains. You were pretty dehydrated.”

“And my clothes?”

She pointed to the left. “I’ve never seen a climbing suit like that before.”

He could see the gold and black material hanging over a chair. “Can I see it?”

She went to the chair and returned with the suit in her hands. She held it up, just beyond the blaze of the needle balls. There was a section missing from the right knee.

“What happened to it?”

“I had to cut a chunk of it off in order to treat you.”

“It’s ruined,” Lucas said, realizing that he wasn’t going to be able to return home, not without the nano-wire circuitry intact. The suit wouldn’t be able to form a stable connection with Fuji’s Incursion Chamber. Not with a hole in it.

“Where’s the piece you cut out? Maybe I can mend it,” Lucas said.

“It was full of blood and puss. I burned it. It was a biohazard.”

“Damn it!” he snapped, knowing he was stuck in the past.

Then an idea popped into his brain. Even if this incursion failed, he could have Fuji from the future tweak his calculations and send him back a few days earlier. That way he could avoid the general’s ambush on the mountain and probably not suck in the other Lucas copies. Of course, his plan assumed he’d arrive early enough to avoid the blowback ripples in time.

But there was another choice. Fuji had preprogrammed a series of Anchor Points into the incursion system, each an important date from Lucas’ past. This trip was the first of those Anchor Points, and the most recent of them all. Those that remained were further back on the timeline and targeted pivotal events from his own history.

Before he could do anything, he needed to find the Google Glasses before their battery ran out of juice. He ran a quick calculation in his head—about seven days of power remained. Plenty of time to let his leg recover and then make contact with Fuji on the distant Earth outpost, Eutopia-3. Once he did, the brilliant monk should be able to walk him through repairing the suit. If he was lucky, there might be some fabric pieces lying on top of the mountain that he could use as a patch.

“I was wearing some special glasses when I fell. You didn’t happen to see them lying around somewhere, did you?”

“No, sorry,” she said, putting the suit back in the corner. “You might want to think about wearing something white next time. Dark colors are dangerous in the Sonoran Desert.”

“So we’re still in Southern Arizona.”

“Yes, northeast of Tucson. This is my home.”

“How did I get here?”

“I carried you.”

“By yourself?”

“Yes, luckily for me, you’re skinny. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Still, that’s damn impressive,” he said needing to know more about her. Where was she from? Why was she helping him? The list of things he didn’t know about this Good Samaritan was long, but he didn’t want to press her. Not yet, anyway.

She bent her arm at ninety degrees and curled her fist to show off her bicep. “I’m stronger than I look.”

Lucas nodded, watching her egg-shaped muscle bulge at the seams of her tiny arm. It was laced with veins sticking out along the skin—a smaller, more sculptured version of Drew’s arm muscles after a couple hundred push-ups. She was strong and in fabulous shape, that much was clear. At five foot nothing, she couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds. Then he noticed her dark tank top and how well it fit her petite figure. Her jet-black, shoulder-length hair was clean and shiny, and she wore very little makeup. Not that she needed any; she was a natural beauty. Her skin was flawless and porcelain white.

He let his eyes drift down across her toned body, taking in every curve along her jaw-dropping physique.

Get a grip,
he scolded himself.
This is no time to be thinking about sex.

Now that all the needle balls were lit and flaming at full intensity, he could see more of the room than before. He saw at least thirty five-gallon containers stacked along the wall to the right. Each blue plastic receptacle had the same three letters written on it with black magic marker ink:
H
₂
O
. Plus a date:
12/1/2012
.

A faded, three-foot-square U-Haul moving box was standing with its open end next to the water canisters. The feathered ends of at least a hundred arrows were sticking out the top of the container. He counted four flights that looked pristine, but the rest were tattered and dirty. A pair of full-size compound hunting bows were leaning against the wall next to the arrows, along with an impressive-looking, camouflage-colored crossbow. A bulletproof vest hung on a hook to the left of the bows, just above six stacks of Mountain House #10 food storage cans. There was even a smattering of feminine products such as tampons and pads.

He studied the concrete walls. There was a hatch-style door behind the girl. He thought about the lack of natural light, the musty air, and the rectangular, metal device attached to the ceiling that was pumping in air through a series of vents. He was in a bunker.

“Are you a prepper?” he asked.

“I’m a survivalist. I prefer to live off the grid. Can’t trust the government these days. They have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Everywhere, huh?” he said, holding back a roll of the eyes.

“Yeah, everywhere. Plus, they send boots out here to sweep there area twice a month. Sometimes fighter jets, too. Almost caught me a couple of times.”

He realized the paranoia was thick with this chick. Time to change the subject. “So, I take it we’re underground?”

“Yes and no. We’re inside a mountain.”

“How deep?”

“Two hundred twelve feet.”

Lucas was starting to hate that number. It seemed like every time he turned around in the past couple months, that number was staring him in the face. He coughed. “Is it safe?”

“Yes, as long as the ventilation system is working properly. I’ve been living here for several years without a hitch.”

“By yourself?”

“I’m waiting for my dad to return from his hunting trip.”

“How long ago was that?”

She hesitated, looking up at the ceiling. “Two years, eleven days.”

“Seriously?” Lucas said. Obviously, she was a little nuts. Gorgeous, but nuts. Not that he could blame her. After all, she was living alone in the middle of the desert, in some doomsday bunker buried deep inside a mountain. Anyone would go nuts in a place like that. Eventually, even the walls would start to talk.

Still, being a recluse didn’t change the facts: she was just another big bag of crazy. What kind of person thinks their father is coming home from a hunting trip when he’s been gone for two years? A delusional person, that’s what kind.

He cleared his throat, buying time to choose his next set of words carefully. He wanted to gain information, but didn’t want to upset her. Right now she wasn’t agitated and he wanted to keep it that way. He needed to probe but don’t pry, letting her feel like she was steering the conversation.

“That’s a long time. It’s possible something might have happened to him.”

“That’s what my brother, Rocket, said when he moved out last year. But I still have faith. My father promised me he would return and he’s a man of his word.”

“Rocket’s an unusual name.”

“Actually, it’s his middle name. I can’t tell you what his first name is. He’d kill me.”

Lucas thought about Dr. Kleezebee. “I know all about that. I have a friend back home who’s first and middle name is Drockmorton Leslie. He prefers to just be called DL.”

“I’ll bet he hates his parents for that.”

“Probably, not that you’d ever get that man to admit it. Talk about tight-lipped and obsessed. What about your mother? I haven’t heard you mention her.”

“She ran off with the bailiff she met while sitting for jury duty. My father told me she finally met someone as messed up as her. He said their neuroses were a perfect match for each other, melding themselves together to make one complete person.”

“How did your dad take it?” Lucas replied, thinking of Kleezebee’s tortuous past with his wife.

“He kept it all hidden from us, but I know he’s hurting. It wasn’t long after mom left when he started this whole survivalist movement in the desert. Always be prepared, he’d say to me and my bro. I think that was code for:
Mom’s an adulterous bitch
. Not that I could blame him, but I still miss her.”

Lucas didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t.

She stared into space for a few seconds, then turned her eyes back to Lucas and smiled. “My name is Masago.”

“I’m Lucas Ramsay,” he said, flexing his hand to get her attention, hoping she’d untie him for a shake. “Thank you for saving my life.”

She grabbed his hand and shook it with a powerful grip, like a sumo wrestler. “You’re welcome. By the way, I really like your birthmark. It reminds me of a cute little koala bear.”

He tried to reach for his hip to cover it up out of instinct, but his hands were tied. “You saw that?”

“Kind of hard to miss. I tried not to look when I undressed you, but what can I say.”

“How about
sorry
?”

“Okay, sorry. I promise not to look next time.”

“Next time?”

She shrugged, tilting her head as her face flushed red. “How long have you been in the military?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Lucas answered, trying to make sense of her comment.

“Yesterday morning . . . when I was out checking my traps, I saw three Apaches circling the far end of the mountain range. Normally when a hiker is lost, they send out the Search and Rescue, not the National Guard. So you must be a reservist, at least. Obviously, I was curious and decided to check it out. But by the time I got there, everyone was gone. I figured the search was over, so I decided to refill my canteen. When I headed for the only water source in the area, I found you. Good thing, too, ’cause otherwise you’d be coyote food right now. Fortune smiled on you yesterday.”

“Yeah, it was my lucky day all right. But I’m not in the military.”

“Then why were the helicopters looking for you?”

“Beats me. Maybe Search and Rescue was busy somewhere else and they were the only resources available,” he said, needing to shift her focus. “Did your father teach you the medical skills?”

She shook her head. “We have a well-stocked library at the other end of this compound. Reading is the best way to pass the time. My father is a firm believer in being prepared . . . for everything.”

“What would your old man say if he walked in right now and saw me strapped to this table. Bringing home a complete stranger is pretty risky.”

“I wasn’t worried. You have a kind face,” she replied, watching a fly buzz around the table.

“What’s left of it, anyway,” Lucas said. He moved his cheek around, feeling the cotton bandage tugging at the skin.

“Something told me that I needed to help you. I feel like we’re connected in some way. Like I was supposed to come along and find you lying there. Do you believe in destiny?”

“Not really.”

“Well, I do. Deep down, I can feel it, like it’s coursing through my veins. There’s a higher force at work, bringing souls together to enrich their lives.”

The more this chick talked, the crazier she sounded. “Yeah, there’s a force at work. But I don’t think it’s God.”

She shook her head with vigor. “You’re wrong. It’s God. She’s everywhere.”

He didn’t want to upset her or insult her religious beliefs, so he decided to tread lightly. “You’re probably right. I don’t know. Sometimes I think it’s the universe and not God. The universe has a strange way of twisting destiny into something evil. But then again, I’m not exactly a religious person, so what do I know.”

“Why would you say something like that? Only God controls your destiny.”

“It’s just a feeling I have. No offense. You get that way when you’ve been through what I have. It seems like everyone I know—everyone I’ve ever cared about—is dead or suffering because of me and the mistakes I’ve make. It doesn’t matter what I do, someone always gets hurt. It’s like I’m cursed or something.”