Reversion (The Narrows of Time Series Book 3) (35 page)

She made it to the driver’s door unharmed by staying low and moving fast. Her body rose up to the top of the door, allowing her eyes to peer at the choppers. They were still elevated over the rise and engaged with the armed men. As far as she could tell, they hadn’t noticed her movement.

The driver’s door had a few bullet holes in it, but she thought it might still open. It took everything she had and multiple yanks on it, but she managed to force it open. She crawled inside and noticed that bits of glass and metal were scattered across the bench seat. She kept her head low and moved slowly, praying the men in the helos wouldn’t notice her activity. She avoided the glass as best she could. The middle of the seat was now under her belly, allowing her to scan the floorboard in front of Lucas’ seat. The Google Glasses weren’t there—just broken glass and other debris.

Maybe Lucas was wrong?

Maybe he didn’t leave them on the floor?

She decided to check under the seat. Her hand went in and immediately hit something sharp. She yanked it back out. The tip of her finger had been cut and was oozing blood. She stuck the wound in her mouth and sucked off the blood, then pulled it out and checked it. There was a vertical, rip in her skin, but it didn’t appear to be very deep. Masago put her hand under the seat again, this time, moving slowly to avoid more cuts. Her fingers found something a little farther back under the seat. Its shape and contours felt familiar. She pulled it out—it was the Google Glasses. Lucas must have knocked them under the seat when he hopped out of the truck earlier with his hands up.

She reversed course, sliding her body across the seat, back the way she’d come. First her legs dropped down, and then her stomach and chest as she cleared the door. She spun around and focused her eyes on the ravine, keeping her back to the vehicle.

The top of Lucas’ head and his eyes were peering over the edge of the ravine. She held the glasses up to show him what she’d found. He gave her a furious wave to get moving and bring him the glasses.

Masago took a deep breath and steeled herself for what she was about to do. Just as her feet took off running, the pitch of the aircraft engines changed behind her. Before she could complete the fourth stride of her sprint, three things happened at the same moment: a searing-hot pain ripped through her left arm, blood splattered across the side of her face, and the sound of rapid gunfire exploded around her. Masago lost her balance as a force propelled her body forward and twisted her sideways. She kept her feet long enough to flop into the ravine, landing in a heap next to Lucas with her right arm holding the glasses in the air.

She gave him the Google Glasses, feeling the world start to spin. Her eyes were growing heavy, and she was starting to breathe erratically. The gunfire seemed to ease a bit, making it easier for her to hear.

Lucas’ eyes were focused on the left side of her body. The expression on his face told her something was wrong. “Masago’s been hit!” he called out to the group, hoping they could hear him over the helicopters and gunfire.

“Where?” Bruno screamed back.

She looked down at her left arm. It wasn’t there. All that remained was bloody strings of tissue, yet the pain was missing. She wanted to cry out, but her mouth wouldn’t move.

“Upper arm. What should I do?” Lucas said.

“Wrap it in a tourniquet, now!” a voice commanded; however, it wasn’t coming from Lucas, nor was it from Bruno, who was still tending to a bleeding Drew.

Lucas Prime twisted his body and grabbed at his discarded pile of street clothes, yanking out the cotton shirt. He tore a strip of cloth from its midsection, then brought it forward. Before he could apply it to her body, a new pair of hands appeared from the left and snatched the material from Lucas.

“Who the hell are you?” Lucas asked the man, grasping at the strip of cloth, but he missed.

Masago looked to her left, trying to focus her fading eyesight. A face came into view. She recognized it.

“Rocket?”

“Yeah, sis. I’m here,” he said, never taking his eyes from her bleeding stump. He was hunched low next to her and the front of his shirt was covered in a layer of dirt. He must have been crawling on his belly.

“Jesus Christ,” Rocket said as his hands worked fast, twisting the wrap around the mess that was her left arm. She could feel the pressure of him working on her, but there was no pain.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him in a weak voice.

“Trying to save you. Now be quiet and let me work,” he said, looping the cloth around her wound a second time and pulling it tight. He made an over/under knot with the two free ends, tying off the flow of blood.

Another man appeared behind Rocket. His chest was also covered in dirt. She studied the face of the long-haired Asian man. When her memory told her who he was, a rush of adrenaline charged her body.

“Daddy?” she asked, feeling the loneliness in her heart melt away. She smiled, forgetting for a flicker of a second that she was fighting for her life.

“Hi, sweetie.” His voice was shaky. Tears streamed from his eyes. “What did they do to my beautiful baby girl?”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a weaker voice than before.

“For what?” he asked, gently putting his trembling hand on the soft of her cheek.

She’d forgotten how gentle his touch could be. “I messed up. Don’t be mad at me, Daddy, please.”

“I could never be mad at you, my dear, sweet, little angel.” He put his finger to her lips. “Shhhh. Save your strength, and let us get you out of here and somewhere safe.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said, with her lips touching his finger. She turned her head and put out her right arm. She grabbed Lucas by the elbow and pulled him close.

“Go. Now. Fix this.”

“Go where?” Rocket asked, staring at the Smart Skin Suit. “Who is this guy? What’s going on here?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” she told her brother, feeling a wave of dizziness slam into her, but it passed just as quickly as it arrived.

“Your what?”

“Help him, please.”

The firefight between the insurgents and the helicopters stopped, leaving only the whine of hovering engines and blades.

Masago swung her eyes up and to the right to follow the whirl of rotors, looking to the sky beyond Lucas. Two helicopters were circling around, probably to get into a better firing position.

“Hurry!” she told Lucas.

Lucas nodded and put the glasses on. He touched the earpiece and spoke into the device. “Fuji, come in. I need an emergency reincursion and I mean right now. Is the system charged? . . . Good, it’s about time . . . I don’t care. Pick one from the list, just do it fast. I don’t have much time . . . Whatever, just do it now!”

The suit began to glow a few moments later, just as the helicopters turned their noses a few more degrees to complete their wide-angle loop around. The choppers dipped their considerable armament, picking up speed as they approached the desert wash.

Masago pushed Rocket away with her good arm, realizing that only seconds remained before the warbirds would open fire. She rolled to her knees and threw her body in front of Lucas Prime just as a torrent of rounds left the powerful chain guns.

Before she could take another breath, she felt the overwhelming sting of flesh and bone being ripped apart across her chest and face.

Lucas felt his essence push through the fabric of space-time and arrive on his knees somewhere in the past. Dizziness swirled in his head and nausea in his belly, making it difficult to think. His empty lungs began to take in air, gasping a series of short breaths—seventeen, to be exact—until the oxygen levels normalized in his body.

He took the Google Glasses off, rubbed his eyes, then looked down at his Smart Skin Suit. The power shutdown sequence was in progress, giving off an ever-fading yellow glow until the residual energy drained away from the nano-circuitry. His mind was still reeling from what had just happened: Masago’s arm getting shot off and then her throwing herself into the line of fire to protect him. Then there was Drew—lying in a ravine, bleeding from a horrific chest wound.

Lucas felt a wave of panic rise up inside. Nothing was going according to plan and everything he tried just seemed to make the timeline worse. He took a moment to shake the disturbing images from his thoughts and flush the sickness swelling within. It worked, allowing him to focus and get himself together.

His inner strength bubbled through the heartbreak and rose to the surface. He vowed to press on until he found the correct anchor point in his history and made things right. There had to be an answer to all of this—somewhere. Everyone was counting on him. Everyone across multiple universes and across all of space-time. He felted his anger rise, supercharging his body with adrenaline.

“Fix the past, then none of the future will happen,” he mumbled, with anger fueling his words. A string of new questions quickly burned:

What anchor point did Fuji select?

How far back did he travel?

Where the hell was he?

A bright section of white stretched before him, making his eyes water. It took a second to register, but his knees were on a sidewalk that bordered a residential neighborhood landscaped with mature bushes, grass, and towering trees. The sun was about an hour’s distance above the horizon, and, based on the heat level and lack of dew in the grassy yard closest to him, he figured it was late afternoon. Early mornings in Arizona had a very distinct aroma, at least until the sun had a chance to dry everything out.

His nose took in a deep rush of air; it didn’t smell like morning. He ran a quick visual check of the driveways closest to him. There weren’t any newspapers sitting on the cement. Yes, he was correct. It was late afternoon and he was facing north.

He thought about opening a communication link with Fuji and Kleezebee, but decided against it. It seemed prudent to save the power until he actually needed it. Right before he removed the glasses, the battery reserve indicator showed only 11 percent remained. He needed to first determine where and when he was, then make a plan before checking in with his friends. Otherwise, he might have to do it twice, wasting the remaining power and jeopardizing the mission.

Lucas put his hands on the concrete below, pushing his body to its feet, but he didn’t remain erect for long. His back was sore and knees buckled, sending him south until the cement collided with his knees. Despite the wave of pain, he held the scream inside, not wanting any sound to leave his lips in case someone was nearby. Stealth was a priority. He wanted his arrival to go undetected.

His eyes darted across the area, checking for witnesses. The only person he saw was an elderly man—six houses behind him and on the left side of the street. The senior citizen had his back angled partially sideways to Lucas and was holding a maroon-colored garden hose, watering the lawn.

Lucas checked the front windows of the homes closest to him, but didn’t see anyone looking at him. No cars were moving, either. He let out a partial smile, realizing his arrival may have gone unnoticed.

It was time to stand up again, or at least try. He pushed to his feet, wondering if his legs would hold this time. They did. He ignored the stiffness in his back and was able to walk, though his pace was uneven and slow. As he continued, the balance and speed of his stride improved with each step, eventually returning to normal.

There were vintage cars sitting in some of the oil-stained driveways along the way, each with an Arizona license plate above the rear bumper. Two of the vehicles had University of Arizona bumper stickers, confirming he’d arrived in Arizona—and in Tucson, as expected. Each of the anchor points coded in Fuji’s system were targeted for this same city, meaning the preprogrammed emergency incursion system worked as planned. The older model cars were a positive sign of an arrival further in the past, but not conclusive. He needed a few more corroborative facts before he could declare this reincursion a success.

The sidewalk curved its way around to the right and ran adjacent to a massive, ten-story parking garage across a traffic-filled road. The rectangular, open-air structure looked busy, and its perimeter spaces were packed on the first three levels, yet the remaining floors appeared to be mostly empty.

His feet began to move faster when he noticed a sign over the parking garage entrance that said “Tucson Medical Center Parking.” He knew where he was, now the question was when?

An advertising billboard stood a few hundred yards away with a woman with puffy hair and pink cheeks. She was holding a phone receiver with a spiral cord attached, and her mouth showed a set of perfect white teeth. Under her smiling mug shot was block text that read: “AT&T LOWERS LONG DISTANCE RATES BY 5.6%.”

He continued to the intersection, where he found a series of newspaper vending machines chained to a pole that was holding up a pair of pay phones. He found the dispenser for the
Arizona Daily Star
, bent down, and looked through its sun-bleached glass. The paper’s headline declared in bold lettering, “Fall Orange Crop Rot Still Haunts West.” To the right of the main article was a picture of a young, serious-looking Harrison Ford. Above his face was the word “WITNESS” in red lettering. Lucas remembered the hit movie, starring Kelly McGillis as the Amish girl.

His eyes drifted up the page and found the date: February 12, 1985.

His chest filled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation when he realized when and where he was. He also knew his task for this reincursion: find a way to stop Drew’s birth mom, Lauren Falconio, from driving home after her shift at the hospital tonight. Tonight was the night she’d get into a horrific car accident. The same accident that would take her life and Drew’s legs.

If Lucas was successful, Drew would never become an orphan, never lose his mobility, and never be adopted by the Ramsay family. That also meant Lucas would never become best friends with Drew, nor would they grow up together as foster brothers. The road ahead was difficult, but he was willing to make the sacrifice. It was the only way he could protect Drew in the future. And probably Masago and everyone else, too.