Time Rovers 03 Madman's Dance (30 page)

He shook his head. “You mean, why was I
sent
out there?”

“Sent?”

“I told you I went voluntarily. I lied.” He looked down. “I nailed one of those little fascist CopBots. I’d been drinking, and when it started harassing some kid flying a kite, I smashed the thing into lots of little pieces. Then another showed up and I nailed that one, too. They really pissed me off.”

“You trashed a couple of CopBots?” she asked, amazed. As he nodded, her estimation of him rose by tenfold. She hit shrinks; he smashed CopBots.

Yeah, we’re family.

She grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. “Good!”

Blair looked startled. “No, it wasn’t good. When Mom and Dad found out I was to be sent Off-Grid, they decided to come with me. They were worried about me making it, you see. They never would have worried about you like that. You were always so confident, so sure of yourself.”

“That’s bull,” she shot back, looking away.

“No, it’s not.”

There was more there, she could feel it. The shrink hadn’t been her first assault. Maybe Blair had a history of this sort of thing too.

“And?” she nudged.

He looked crestfallen. “Okay, I’ve done this before. I was getting into trouble fairly regularly. When I refused to get counseling to deal with my
issues,
as they called them, the authorities decided I needed to go because I was a
disruptive influence.
”

She was astounded. “They tossed you out for that?”

“It was only supposed to be three years. Then we could come back.” He laughed hollowly. “To what? Mom and Dad had to give up everything to go with me. The money they got for the house went to pay off all those fines I’d racked up. Then the new Government took over and made all the sentences permanent.”

Endless exile.

Ants began to fire up. She doused them immediately. There was nothing she could do right now, but down the line some changes needed to be made.

“Why are you here, Blair? I understand why the parents couldn’t come, but why you? We never liked each other.”

He glowered at her. “They wanted me to. They want us to find common ground.”

“What’s the point?”

“They say it’s time we both grew up,” he replied.

Ouch.

“You never understood, Cynder. Even though what you do seems crazy, I’ve always been proud of you.”

“What?” she asked, baffled.

“You were so confident. I was just arrogant. There’s a difference.” He reached over and pulled a pillow under him. “That’s better. It was making my butt sore.”

Something told her the old Blair wouldn’t have admitted that.

“What’s up? You aren’t like this, or at least I don’t think you are. My memories are still jumbled.”

“The last year has been a bitch. Mom and Dad never said a word, never blamed me, but every time those tomato seeds appeared, I knew I’d failed. You were thumbing your nose at me, and I couldn’t tell you to go to hell.”

“Tomato seeds?”

He looked chagrined. “Sorry. I forgot you don’t remember a lot of stuff. You bought some of the rare, non-gen modified seeds and smuggled them to us. It’s against the law, Cynder. The smuggling, at least. You risked going to jail for us. Mr. Morrisey said it would have been a decade or longer.”

“But, I—”

He raised his hand. “Let me finish. If you hadn’t taken that risk, we would have starved. That’s the cost of my arrogance. Our parents could have died because I thought I had the right to tell Guv to go screw themselves.”

“Everyone has that right.”

“Not for the price we’ve paid. I was sure we’d make a living, no hassles. I was wrong, Cynder. It’s the Wild West out there. I was so wrong.”

She put a hand on his forearm. “You made it, though. You’re a tough S.O.B.”

“Not tough enough,” he said. “My little sis had to bail us out.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“That’s Mr. Morrisey’s doing. I wasn’t even sure if I should come. I wanted to see you, but you might not have recognized me.”

True.
It was better to fib. “Fat chance,” she said. “Let’s start over.”

“You forgive me?” he asked, incredulous. “For everything?”

“Well…”

“Like painting your new puppy bright pink?” Another sin she didn’t remember. “I called him Pinkie Pup,” Blair recalled. “Really made you mad.”

Her brother broke out laughing louder than was expected. Just releasing tension. Then he grew solemn again. “God, Cynder, it’s not gone the way I planned. And when I heard you’d been so badly hurt…”

“Just keeps happening,” she said. He gave her a questioning look.
He doesn’t know about the chest wound.
Or most of the other things that had happened to her. “At least it seems like it.”

“The parents sent you a message.” Blair offered her a thick envelope. At her puzzled look, he said, “No hi-tech out there. Dad goes on and on about his new clinic, which is finally up and running. Nothing fancy, just basic medical care. It’s given us some extra income because they pay us in food. Oh, and Mom is really pleased with her beets.”

“Beets?”

“Off-Grid, it’s all about food and security. The gangs are active again. There’s talk of more raids on the settlements.”

“Geez.”

He turned away, caught up in his own thoughts. It was only then that she saw the ring on his left hand. She took a gamble that it was something new, not something she’d forgotten.

Cynda reached over and tapped the silver band. “Ah, bro, something else going on?”

He turned back, sheepish. “I got married a few months ago.”

Married?
“What’s her name?”

“Amanda. Our first child is due in four months.”

“Whoa. You move fast.”

“Mom predicts it’ll be a girl.”

“Good. She’ll run you ragged.”

His face warmed with a smile that seemed to lift the years. “That’s why I wanted to see you. Once Mr. Morrisey said you were doing better, I knew I needed to put some things right.”

Marriage and a child had put her brother in a whole new category.

“Raise your hand,” she said.

“What?”

“Raise your hand.” He did as asked, though she could see he felt it was stupid. “Repeat after me.”

“Cynder—”

“I—insert your name here—do promise not to be an ass to my sister in the future.”

He repeated the sentence back, a grin on his face, purposely leaving his name out.

She matched his grin and raised her own hand. “I, Jacynda Lassiter, promise to treat my older brother, whatever the hell his name is, with the respect he deserves as long as he agrees not to be a complete jerk.”

They slapped palms in the air and then hugged, hard.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispered. “Amanda and I want to name our daughter after you. Is that okay?”

Cynda pulled back, mouth agape. “I…all right.”

They fell back into the embrace, letting their old wounds wash away in mutual tears.

~••~••~••~

Saturday, 3 November, 1888

Spitalfields

“Dr. Montrose?”

A young man hesitated in the open doorway as Alastair set aside the instruments he’d been sorting. “I’m sorry, but the clinic won’t be open for another week or so.”

“I’m not here for that,” the fellow replied, already making his way toward the back of the waiting room.

Alastair studied him closely, carefully weighing whether or not he presented a threat. “Then how can I help you, sir?”

“By letting me play postman. I’m Hopkins. I’m an…associate of Jacynda Lassiter.”

“Jacynda?” Alastair hurried around the exam table. “How is she? Have her memories returned?”

“She’s much better,” the man assured him, reaching inside his coat to produce an envelope. “I was asked to deliver this letter to you. She needs some questions answered.”

“She is well enough to write me?” the doctor asked, unable to conceal his glee at the news.

“Yes. But if anyone from our time asks you about that, the answer is no,” his visitor advised. “I’ll come back tomorrow morning to get your reply.”

“But—”

The man named Hopkins was already out the door. Alastair eagerly slit open the envelope. A thick sheaf of handwritten paper was inside. He sat in his chair, propped up his feet, and began to read. The first full sentence made him whoop for joy.

Dearest Alastair,

I remember you now. I remember Keats, as well. This isn’t the way his life is supposed to be. We need to find a way to make it right again. I may need your help.

“And you shall have it, my dear lady,” he murmured, his eyes misting.

2058 A.D.

TEM Enterprises

At Cynda’s request, Morrisey began filling in more of the missing pieces: about the Transitives and how they could look like anyone, how the Virtuals could appear invisible, and why it was the shifters held their secrets so closely. He spoke of what Harter had learned from a Future, someone ahead of them in the time stream. How it all would go to ruin in a few years’ time.

With some difficulty, he’d spoken of Chris’ death, his eyes filled with barely staunched tears. The longer he talked, the angrier she got. Not at him, but at those who’d played God with her life. Killed Chris. Used that silver tube and put her into the Nothing Time. They’d expected her to become a harmless child, giggling and building sand castles forever.

Not even close.

The bottom line: TPB was her enemy, and that wouldn’t change.

“I know you won’t remember everything I’ve told you,” Morrisey had said. “I’ll put a series of reports on your computer with multi-level encryption as most of this is very sensitive. That way, you can review them when you need.”

That was good, but what Cynda really needed was to hit someone. Repeatedly.

Sensing her internal upheaval, from that point on Morrisey gave her a wide berth, as did about everyone else in the complex. To curb the desire to give TPB more ammunition for committal, she worked out at the gym and practiced Tai Chi to calm the ants. She perfected her kicks and punches, but still had trouble with some of the other moves. To break up the long periods of exercise, Sigmund taught her chess and how to strategize. She studied Victorian history. Most important, she worked through things in her head. Day by day the red haze slowly lifted, replaced by icy resolve.

Whoever had made her this way were going to reap what they’d sown.

“Cyn?” Ralph prompted. He was sitting a discreet distance from her, just out of range. She gazed down at the sandwich he’d brought her as a peace offering. This had to be Morrisey’s doing. Probably figured she wouldn’t hit her best friend. She hoped he was right.

“You always liked Eli’s food before,” Ralph complained as she picked at the interior of the sandwich critically.

“You sure I like tuna?” she asked.

“You used to. You eat raw fish now; you should be able to eat the cooked stuff, for heaven’s sake.”

To make him happy, Cynda took a bite. The taste was unbelievable. She moaned. “This…is good,” she said through a mouthful of food. “Better than chocolate, even.”

“That’s more like the old you.” He smiled. “Oh, Eli and his wife send their regards.”

She raised an eyebrow. He took the cue. “Eli Greenwald the Third. You call him E3. We used to eat there all the time, or go up to the park and have a picnic. You used to smuggle tomato seeds through him to your parents Off-Grid.”

E3?
She shuffled through the files and then came up with a matching memory. She’d hand him her sandwich tote, the seeds hidden in the bottom, and he’d swap the contraband out for a sandwich and pickles. To the casual observer it didn’t appear they’d broken any laws.

Once she finished swallowing, she set the sandwich down reluctantly. “Thanks, Ralph.”

“No problem.” She noticed his own meal sat still wrapped in front of him.

“Wait a minute, let me work on it…” She screwed up her face in thought, hovering her hand over the wrapper like she could divine what was inside. “Roast beef and…something, right?”

“Roast beef, mayo, and American cheese,” he confirmed with an approving nod.

“We’ll go to this place together someday.”

Ralph’s smile faded. “We won’t get that chance if you go back to ’88, Cyn. They’ll kill you this time.”

She shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“It’s not just about you. Rumors are floating around that TPB has threatened to jail Morrisey if there are any further unauthorized transfers. They’ll close the company for good, sell it off to the highest bidder.”

“I doubt they’ll be able to pull it off,” she said, hoping that was the case.

“Is one Victorian’s life worth all that?” he argued.

Though the question annoyed her, it was a valid one. “I believe it is, Ralph,” she told him. “Keats cannot die that way.”

“Was there something going on between you two?”

Cynda looked up, startled. “There might have been, before this.” She tapped her temple where the mark still darkened her skin. “I don’t know now. I think we took a left turn along the way.” She took another bite of her sandwich.

“What about Dr. Montrose?”

“Same story, I think.”
Is he jealous, or just curious?
Another thought surfaced. “Were you and I ever...you know?”

Her friend shook his head. “We would just drive each other crazy.”

That made sense. She set the sandwich down again. “You’re not eating, so what’s really going on here, guy?”

Ralph’s oval glasses were off in a heartbeat, being polished with the bottom of his shirt. She’d learned that was his way of dealing with stress. “You’re my best friend, Cyn. Hell, almost my only friend. We’ve been like twins since we first met. If you go to ’88 and don’t come back…”

“We’ve always been there for each other, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, we have.”

“Then we will in the future. I’ll know you have my back, Ralph. That’s why I’ll be the one kicking butt this time, not the other way around.”

“You’re too damned stubborn,” he grumbled. “Morrisey said you’d get better, that you wouldn’t give in. I wasn’t so sure.”