Agent Fogarty slipped through the halls, trying hard to keep her focus through the stinging array of fluorescent lights and her fading consciousness. The wound at her side pulsed, blood soaking her hand and uniform. With her non-gun hand, she kept her finger over the trigger and searched each hall for signs of her target.
She had been through worse scrapes before. She could do this. The problem was with her target, who seemed to continually be two steps ahead of her at all times. If she didn’t get to him and stop him from negatively impacting the future she was from, she would have no home to return to. She would likely be forced to stay in an era she didn’t belong in, or worse, she would inadvertently create a paradox. Who knew what that would do?
A sound echoed from the corridor in front of her.
Agent Fogarty leaned her back against the hall adjacent to the opening. She stared at the stone grey trim stacked against off-white walls and polished stone floors. Taking a few deep breaths, she steadied her shoulders and steeled her nerves. With a shove from the wall, using more of her waning strength, she pushed herself forward, stumbling toward the other wall then leaning against it for support. More pain gnawed at her side. She had minutes left to catch the target before she fell unconscious.
Once the surge of pain passed, she peeked down the corridor, where the noise came from. Ebony curls fell into her face. She blew them away to get a better glance. Only dark shadows and a pallid hall took up her vision.
If only he hadn’t gotten that lucky shot off, she would’ve likely had him in custody and in transport back to the proper time. Her time. Not some sick, half-deserted hospital floor in the middle of downtown Houston 1986. When she rounded the corner, she longed for her Los Angeles home waiting 450 years in the future. She longed for the fresh, pollution-free air, the automatic cars programmed to drive themselves, including memorizing the addresses of her most visited locations. For January Fogarty, she missed her cat Galaxy the most.
Sure, she had family, but family only went so far when living alone and having no one to cuddle with late at night. Of course, had she not caught her fiancé in bed with that. . .
Agent Fogarty shook her head to clear her mind. She couldn’t allow herself to revisit portions of her life, even negative memories that would normally give her just the right oomph to carry out a mission. Truth be told, she began feeling like it was the end. But she couldn’t allow it to be the end. It wouldn’t be the end.
Not if I can help it, it won’t.
She stumbled across the hall and approached a deserted desk. A door behind that most likely led to an office where files were kept. The door off to the side of a small waiting room appeared as though it would lead much farther.
She inched closer, leaning against the door only to have it give way too easily and slam against the wall, recreating the sound she heard from before. She nearly tumbled to the floor but managed to catch herself on the other door. It held a paper sign taped to the center, instructing caution when opening the door, as it was susceptible to slamming.
Lucky for her, the target didn’t stop to read the sign before he charged through. Unlucky for her, she did the same damn thing, most likely alerting him of her proximity. Either he was hiding and was aware of how close she was, or he discovered how close he was to getting away. Maybe both.
Either way, she stepped through the narrow passage toward a series of offices and cubicles. If her target hid somewhere within the room, instead of moving farther out and getting away, it would be nearly impossible to catch him. The only hope she had was her night specks, but the target ensured those were knocked off when they got into their altercation. January adjusted her jaw again from the right hook he laid into her with. It ached, and there was a slight grinding sound when she moved her jaw a certain way.
That can’t be good.
She decided to put her concern off until she made it home. If she made it home. Time travel was tricky, and she had to be careful of how she did things. One small ripple in the time line could cause all sorts of disarray in the future. That’s why only a select few were allowed to become Time Ghosts.
A wave of dizziness rotated through her, forcing her to stop in her steps. She closed her eyes and waited for the moment to pass. Her legs gave out from under her, sending the Time Ghost to the floor, and this time, she barely felt a twinge of pain.
Oh no . . .
“It’s not what you think!” the target said as he approached.
So you keep insisting. The question is why?
He was a different one, that much was certain. Usually, targets offered longwinded explanations for committing their crime. They never denied it. In fact, none of her targets to this point had much room to deny their crimes. The proof was in their jump. Kind of hard to fight that evidence.
She tried to glimpse her target hidden in the shadows, she didn’t even have the strength to hold up her weapon anymore.
“So you keep . . . telling me.” Her words came out slurred and half-spoken.
“Please, let me help you, and I promise to explain everything.”
There was movement to her left. Someone--or something--slowly crept closer to her and seemed too low to the ground. She blinked a few times but couldn’t get a clear image. Part of her understood what to do, and the other part didn’t have the strength to flinch, much less lift her weapon.
She took a few breaths and tried to mutter something about not coming any closer or she’d shoot. Had she been coherent, she would’ve asked why he wanted to help her when he was the one who shot her. Be that as it may, her eyes grew heavy as unconsciousness won over.
She gave into the darkness.
***
When January opened her eyes, it took her a moment to realize she wasn’t dead, at home, or back in her own time. She was somewhere else entirely. She expected to feel more pain than she did, but the aching had dulled. As she took in the short stretch of her body, she discovered her suit was missing. She wore an itchy fabric blend that was warm and soft at the same time. A loose tank covered her top half. Both of them were a dark, steel grey. She shifted her toes, the way she did when she’d first wake up. They too, were covered in something thick and warm, though they were smooth and soft.
“Sleeping Beauty awakes!” A man to her side spoke, causing her to snap her attention to him. He was stout and wore an obnoxious colorful shirt with leaves and giant tropical flowers. His grey hair was cut in the way that the back was longer than the top. He wore thick, plastic frame glasses on his nose, and he plundered away on a massive collection of boxes with enough cords to strangle half an army.
Ugh, eighties technology. So retro and always over the top.
She held up both of her hands to inspect each and ensure all her fingers were still covered in smooth, chestnut-toned velvet. All of her gear had been removed.
“My name is not Sleeping Beauty.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “It’s January Fogarty.”
She turned her attention to the gentleman in time to see his eyebrows rise in rounded arches. “Well, that’s quite an unusual name, January Fogarty. I’m Phoenix.”
“Phoenix?”
He nodded, a bit of sweat shaking from his hair. “Yup, Phoenix.”
She tried to sit up with as little pain as possible. Only a minor tug filled her side, which caused her to pause, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. She lifted up the side of her shirt and pulled away the gauze just enough to inspect her wound. She gasped at the graph that was done.
“Impossible,” she whispered.
“Nope. Not impossible. Not when your savior has the technology from the time you came from.”
She lifted her gaze to Phoenix. “You know about me? About what I am?”
He smiled, letting a short chuckle filter between his lips. “Yup! I know a lot of stuff. Like how to make coffee!”
He held up a bright yellow ceramic cup of primo bean juice. Distrust tugged at her insides; who was this man? And did he work for or with her target? She supposed if he wanted to kill her, his choice of weapon certainly wouldn’t have been coffee. January mustered a slight smile in response and gave a nod. Phoenix bounced around his horseshoe shaped contraption of gizmos and gadgets, lighter on his feet than seemed possible for a man of his girth. As he approached, he did a little dance and a spin, ending with the cup out toward January.
“You have such beautiful eyes. Almost like a forest at dawn.”
January tried to sip her brew without choking. The bitter liquid had cooled considerably but was still enjoyable. The flavor danced along her taste buds. “Thank you . . . for the coffee, and the compliment. I think.”
He nodded, parking his rear on the square table in front of the sofa.
“So,” he smacked his lips, “tell me about your mission.”
She peered at him from over the rim of her coffee cup, a small crease appearing right above the bridge of her nose. “If you know as much as you say you do, then you know I cannot tell you anything.”
He nodded with a sigh and a smack of his knee. He stood and returned to his collection. “You’ll come around. But I’ll tell you this, everything is not what it seems. They do not know what they’re talking about. Well, they do, but you wouldn’t believe me. Not yet, anyway.”
January stood from her bed and stretched her arms above her head, arching her back and feeling her stretch deep within her core. She let out a soft sigh. “You’re right. I probably wouldn’t believe you. Where is my target? More importantly, how did I get here?”
“All understandable questions,” Phoenix said.
“And I may have some of your answers.”
The target stood just five feet from her, unarmed and nearly unclothed. Umber toned muscles rippled along shoulders, arms, chest, and abs. He wore a pair of sweat pants matching the ones January wore. She lowered her gaze to the clothes she wore, and their considerable bagginess.
Within an instant, she snapped her gaze back to her target. “You almost killed me!”
“The shot was a mistake. I wasn’t aiming for you. Believe me, I’m a better shot than that.”
To further prove his point, he turned his tight, thick back toward her to show off the glistening brand of the United Union of Time Protectors inked onto his skin, right between his shoulder blades. It was the same all Ghosts received the moment they graduated from the academy.
The transmutation circle on his back consisted of one large ring, bordered by another. From a single point at perfect center, surrounded by a band with an alchemical symbol, twelve lines shot out, stretching beyond the original rings, boundless by time. At each of the twelve points rested another circle holding one of twelve alchemical symbols. Though the order of the first twelve could be different from Ghost to Ghost, the center one always remained the same: the breath of life. Within the initial bordering rings are the runic commands of time travel. And finally, the twelve lines representing the twelve hours of a clock are wrapped by ribbons of runes meant to offer protection, safe travel, stealth, and other abilities pertaining to successful missions for the agent.
January gaped at the man’s backside until he glanced over his shoulder and caught her mouth hanging open. He turned around, breaking her gaze of his backside and knocking her from her disbelief.
“How?”
He smiled. “It’s a very long story. One you definitely need to hear.”
She shook her head again. “No. Turn back around.”
He hesitated for a moment before nodding and obliging her request. January didn’t waste a second. She approached him and lifted her long, slender fingers to the slightly raised transmutation circle on his back. She carefully gauged every line and rune with her fingertips, focusing on each minute detail. She could tell the difference between one recently given, and one that’s been used a few times. This man wasn’t only a Ghost, he was a veteran. But he didn’t appear much older than her.
January took a few steps back, letting her hand fall to her side. A pinch formed in the center of her forehead as her lips pulled into a taught frown. He turned around slowly to face her, the agent sent to kill him, wearing little more than a calm expression on his face. Phoenix stood by, arms crossed over his shoulders, watching their stare down with fascination. The tension climbed, setting sparks to light in tiny bursts throughout the room. January took a breath, realizing it had been caused by her holding it in, trying to work through the puzzle she faced. If he’s a Ghost, why was she sent on a mission to kill him?
“Were you about to kill the great-grandmother of Ferguson Delany?” January asked.
“No.”
“Why are you in this time period?” She narrowed her eyes at him, carefully taking in every action.
“The same reason you were sent here.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if you think about it closely.” He nodded his head toward her, as if the motion alone was supposed to make his point clearer.
January shook her head. “This isn’t possible.”
Panic rose within her, and he lifted his hands toward her, waving them up and down as he gently spoke to her. “I know this is a lot to take in. You are still under stress from the wound and losing so much blood. Please, sit. We can talk this over once you have had a chance to fully recover.”
She sighed and stepped to the couch she had been on. She took a seat a little too hard, wincing at the pull on her side.
“Careful,” Phoenix said, turning to one of his many monitors. “You don’t want to pull your wound open. It was a bitch to seal it after Chuckles, here, got you to safety.”
The room started to spin. Her stomach clenched. With a groan, she leaned over her knees, propping her elbows on them and taking deep breaths.
“My name is Carson, by the way. I’m not sure what headquarters told you or what they put to my identity, but I assure you, you are safe here.” His voice moved closer to her.
“Where is here?” she asked, taking in deep breaths and slowly letting them out.
“An abandoned research facility in Houston.”
She looked through her long, onyx lashes at the room around her. “An abandoned research facility, huh? Are you sure we’re safe?”
“We’re as safe as we can be.”
“Does this facility have showers and working toilets?”
“The building was abandoned due to its troubled history. No one has had a heart or mind to tear it down. Teens come to party here every once in a while. It takes me or Phoenix to run them off, but for the most part, we’re left alone. No one knows we’re here. That, and the protection symbols we put up to ward against anyone actively searching for us.” He sat next to her.
“There was a reason I asked about the toilets.”
Carson stiffened. “Oh. Uh, follow me.”
Without waiting for her to respond, he took off across the room and toward the hall he had stepped out of. January followed suit, noting the room they were in. It appeared more like a waiting room than anything, which didn’t say research facility to her.
She followed Carson through darkened corridors. The man moved with military speed and precision.
No wonder you were hard to catch.
Strange, how none of that was covered in the briefing. She was sure the mission was legit. Somehow, she’d have to find a way out of the building, and then to a place where she could go back home to her own time.
“I want you to know you can come to me with any questions at any time,” Carson said as he moved.
“If you’re so protected here, why did you leave?”
He gazed over his shoulder, doing a double-take, and said, “Well, we have to go out looking for others like us. Give them a safe place to go. Plus, we do need food and supplies. And I work here. In this time, I mean.”
“You’re not supposed to do that!”
He shrugged. “I’m trapped here. Same as you. No one will be able to go back without being killed on sight. Your best bet is to remain here until you are healed, then we will reintegrate you into society, or you can stay with us. I can get you a job where I work. It’s different from the whole time warrior thing, but it’s enjoyable and less dangerous.”
She let out an incredulous chuckle. “No thank you.”
He stopped at a door then faced January. “Suit yourself. The offer still stands. This is your stop.”
She stared cold at him for several long moments. “You’re not going to stay out here, are you?”
“You’re kidding me?”
She shook her head and flipped her hands out from her side.
“You’re afraid of a man hearing you tinkle, fluff, or poo?”
She lifted her eyebrows in rounded arches and said, with as much venom as she could muster, “Don’t talk to me like that again. I can break your leg in a fraction of a second. I’m a private person. I don’t trust easily, and I have no reason to trust you, yet.”
“I saved your life.”
“To what end?”
Carson pressed his lips together and huffed a sigh. “Fine. Go. Just come straight back.”
The fact he avoided her question didn’t escape her notice. It was added to the bottom of a growing list of suspicions and things that weren’t adding up. As Carson stepped around her and headed back toward the room they came from, she rotated, following his shrinking form until he was out of sight. She rushed into the bathroom, did her business, and checked her body for any marks or blemishes that shouldn’t be there. Afterward, she poked her head through the doorway of the restroom. Peering down each side of the hallway, she decided to make a break for it while the getting was good.
***
Judging by the half destroyed signs on the walls and those hanging from the ceilings, Agent Fogarty was a few turns away from freedom. She had no idea what she was going to do once she was out of the building, but it didn’t matter. Anything January Fogarty, Time Ghost, put her mind to, she was capable of doing. She smirked.
She turned the last corner, stopping short of running into Carson.
“What’s out there, isn’t for you. You’ll find freedom, for a while. But in a few days or months or years, you will become a target of another Ghost. You may be able to outrun them, and you may not. You won’t know what time they will come from. You won’t know the technology they will bring.”
“You knew I was coming, and you managed to shoot me and rescue me. I’m not really in the mood to listen to you.” She tried to side-step around Carson, but he grabbed her arm, forcing her to face him.
“Think about this before you do something that could result in you losing your life.”
“Let go of me,” she said, yanking her arm free of Carson’s grip.
“Just think. Try to remember everything you did before you did the jump.”
“Whatever,” she muttered as she continued through the hall, leaving Carson behind in his stewing.
“I may not be there to save you next time.”
There won’t be a next time.
She made the last turn and let the sight of the glass doors leading to her freedom soak in. A smile pulled on the edges of her lips, not quite making it all the way to her eyes. Her eyebrows, in fact, were pulling together, despite her stubbornness. Why couldn’t she remember the very last thing she did before she made the jump?
What happened to me?
The normal routine of pre-jump check and her briefing was so second nature, she never once thought twice about the fact that everything she knew about her target was just there. She did have a rough landing, which knocked her out, but amnesia didn’t work like that, and if it did, she would’ve remembered everything right as she stood several yards from the exit of the research facility she was taken to.
January rubbed her thumb and left forefinger together as she tried to think things through. She tried to make connections fit. The last thing she remembered was her friend and co-worker, Michelle, staring at the large projection of Carson rotating in a 360-degree view.
“He’s cute,” her friend said, taking in January’s reaction.
January had stood with her arms crossed over her chest, brows knitting themselves together and her finger and thumb rubbing against each other in circles. She could never understand why her friend always wanted to set her up with all the wrong men. It was too soon for her to think about dating again anyway. January bobbed her shoulder. “If you say so. He’s a criminal. He went rogue. I have to dispatch him.”
She sighed. Auburn curls glided around her shoulders in soft waves. “Such a shame.”
January laughed quietly. “You are horrible.”
Her friend’s reaction was to throw her hands in the air and turn toward her console . . .
How puzzling for January not to link a memory directly before or after that. She bit her lip, unwilling to buy the evidence that suggested what Carson and Phoenix said was the truth. It couldn’t possibly be. Yet, she stood in the foyer of some facility in a year that didn’t belong to her.
Steps crunched behind her.
Another deep breath, in and out.
Her fingers stilled as she turned around to face the man that puzzled her even more. His deep, dark eyes enveloped her with concern and a glance that she regarded as a shield, a front of self-perseverance. He leaned against the corner of the hall she had emerged from. His arms folded in front of him, bulging muscles rippling along each bend and curve, and one leg slightly bent while the other remained straight.
“You can’t, can you?”
January cocked her head to the side, eyebrows pulled together taught.
“Remember,” he said.
Another sigh left her lips as her shoulders deflated. “It’s not possible.”
Her words came out soft, almost in a whisper, but still traveled well enough for Carson to understand. He nodded and removed himself from the corner. “We can help you.”
Carson held out his hand toward January, forcing her heart to drum harder. She had nowhere else to go, and with everything supporting him, she wasn’t sure she could risk stepping out of the building just yet. Especially if there was already an assassin after her.
Taking Carson’s hand, one thought processed through her mind . . .
What did I do that forced me to be condemned like this? Better yet, did my father know, and if he did, was he involved?
Carson started to lead January back through the halls. He kept glancing at her as they moved. Her lips were pulled down into a frown, and a crease settled itself between her eyebrows.
“You remembered something, didn’t you?”
January sighed, long and heavy. “I did.”
“If it makes you feel any better, when I got stuck here, I had no idea where I was or why. I thought it was a mistake. Nothing added up. Shortly after, I found Phoenix. He helped me to remember and figure out a way to live relatively under the radar in this time. We understood it would be a matter of time before someone else came. We have the answers, I promise to share them. First things first, though. You need to eat and get rest. Of course, I’ll be happy to help you uncover anything you need me to.”
“You’re a little too eager for me to trust you just yet.” But, he did have answers she wanted. She wouldn’t deny that.
“On the contrary. I’m eager because I’ve been there. I’m there still.”
“Why did they send you here?”
Carson sighed heavily. “I learned too much, uncovered a few things I shouldn’t have, and I got caught.”
January mulled over Carson’s words as he led her through the remaining maze of halls to the large room where Phoenix still sat at his collection of monitors and cables. He peered over his shoulder at the two as they entered, peering over the rim of his glasses with a gleam in his eyes.
“Welcome back, madam.”
January smiled, despite the troubling thoughts rolling through her mind. “Thank you, Phoenix.”
“Sure thing. You go ahead and lie down and . . . Hang on a second.”
“What’s going on?” Carson asked.
January furrowed her brow as a high pitched beeping started erupting from somewhere within the collection of retro-technology. She inched her way closer.
“Picking up some residual traces of energy. Too much for it to not be another jumper.”
January pursed her brow. “What do you mean? Is this how you knew I was coming?”
Phoenix shrugged with a cock of his head and shoulder. “This is how we knew you were coming. Just not where you were coming from. It’s likely that this burst is minutes old, and the ghost will be long gone by the time we return there.”
“That was quick for someone to come through already,” Carson said.
“How long does it usually take?” January asked.
He shrugged. “It’s time travel. Who knows when they were sent from? Still, it’s generally a bad idea to have two jumps in too close of a time period because of paradoxes.”
January shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Of course. That’s why they never send more than one Ghost.”
“Precisely,” Carson said. “Take yours for example. I’ve been here for six months before you came after me.”
January leveled her eyes on Carson. “But you jumped . . . That doesn’t make any sense.”
“What?” he asked.
“Your jump supposedly happened hours before mine. Literally. I was called in on an emergency . . . Oh, no. This isn’t making sense.” January started pacing.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to explain to you,” Carson said.
January shook her head. “I can’t believe this is happening. I never did anything to be on anyone’s hit list.”
“Give her some time,” Phoenix said. “She needs to adjust to all this just as much as you did.”
January switched her focus, moving closer to the screen where the red beeps still pulsated. “How far away is this?”
“That is about,” Phoenix made a ticking noise, “four, five miles away.”
“Where’s my uniform?” Her next question was directed to Carson.
His mouth parted, and January suspected he was about to lie about it.
“We destroyed it,” Phoenix said. “Sorry, kiddo. Can’t take any chances.”
“What chances?” she asked, close to losing her cool.
“What are you hoping to do, exactly?” Carson asked.
“I’m going after whoever it is. If it’s a Ghost, I’ll see what his mission is. If he’s a jumper . . .” She shrugged.
“Listen, sweetheart—”
“Phoenix, don’t. Okay? Just . . . don’t. You two may be able to sit back and observe the events unfolding beneath your nose, but I have to do something.”
Carson and Phoenix both let out a heavy sigh. Carson said, “Fine, but I’m coming with you.”
“That’s not—”
“I wasn’t asking. You’re already wounded. Two Ghosts are better than one, right?”
She narrowed her eyes, catching on to the fact that he planned something that could potentially get her killed.
“I promise to work with you and let you take the lead.”
Well, how about that? “Okay, deal, but . . .”
“But?” he asked, lifting a single eyebrow in a smooth motion, making January want to bite her lip. She sighed, letting a smile pull her plump lips. “You know what? You’ll figure it out.”
He shook his head. “If you say so. Com’ on, I’ll take you to get geared up.”
He turned his back to her and headed for a different door from the room. January let her gaze shift to Phoenix. He smiled and shook his head.
“You two are really something,” he muttered as he continued typing away.
***
Geared up meant jeans, a long-sleeved shirt with patches on the shoulders, a heavy vest, and holsters for the legs and waist, complete with pistols.
“This is hardly what I thought you meant by geared up. I thought you made some alterations to the normal uniforms.”
Carson shrugged. “It’s a lot better than going out there with nothing.”
“True, but, why so much heavy stuff? How does someone run with all this extra weight?”
“You’ll get used to it.”
They moved through the building, pausing at some doors covered in black sheets of construction tarp. Bits of light shone through the thinner parts, making them appear more like a sick reddish-brown. Carson pushed through first, stepping out into a parking garage covered in graffiti and lacking in vehicles. The only one she could see was a large white van without any windows on the sides.
January followed Carson to the exact one. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Carson turned around. “What?”
“This?” she shoved a thumb in the direction of the van.
“Yeah. And?”
She shook her head and stepped to the passenger door while muttering under her breath something to the effect of “this is a waste of time,” and “thought we were supposed to be under the radar,” and “ridiculous piece of machinery.”
The van shifted. January peeked through the window as Carson reached over and pulled up on the door lock, prompting her to roll her eyes and bite the inside of her cheek. She really missed her own time. Things were easier, simpler, and less complicated. Three things that would normally equate to the same thing, but for January, they were very different.
Carson slid the key into the ignition then gave it a turn. The van growled to life after a few moments.
“That’s my girl!”
January stared hard at her partner. The idea anyone would so much as equate anything human to such low-tech monstrosities was beyond her.
Carson slipped the gears into reverse, pulled out of the spot they were parked in, and drove in a semi-circle toward the exit with January gripping the door and armrest of her seat.
***
Carson pulled the van close to the curb in front of a thrift store with mannequins standing guard in the windows, wearing mismatched clothing in bright colors and patterns. January wondered how the human race made it past this time with such god-awful style and culture. Still, it could’ve been worse, she supposed. This could’ve been the time she called home.
“This should be close to the point of the burst,” Carson said, drawing January’s attention.
“Fabulous,” she muttered. “Now what?”
“You okay?”
She shrugged. “Fine. Why?”
“You seem tense. I need you level headed.”
Her eyes shot daggers at him for implying she was anything but. “I’m fine. Let’s do this.”
He let out a heavy breath before exiting the van. January followed suit, meeting him in front of the monstrous chunk of sheet metal scrap.
Carson glanced at the device on his wrist then pointed toward the park and said, “Right over there. That’s where we will find the jumper.”
January pursed her brow. “Well, thereabouts.”
Carson smiled. January ignored its effect. Instead, she swept a hand in the direction they needed to go, indicating he should take the lead since he was so hell-bent on going. He took the gesture, walking along the sidewalk, weaving between people on bikes, skates, and boards, as well as those who were trying to do their shopping or enjoy a simple cup of coffee in metal chairs and tables with small umbrellas sticking out the middle of them, which couldn’t possibly hold much purpose other than to stand there and look pretty.
They made their way to the park, blending in when they needed and checking their surroundings for the other Ghost. It could be anyone. And that made it even more dangerous. January worried about a showdown in the middle of the crowd. There would be no way to cover up that evidence. The event would alter the historical timeline and affect the future in ways that could only be speculated. Despite the worry, January kept her calm. The last thing she or anyone else needed was to lose her “level-headedness” and get someone killed, or worse.
Crossing the street was easy enough with the light on the other end flashing a bright white silhouette walking. Or maybe the image was supposed to depict running, as there wasn’t nearly enough time for a normal person to cross before it changed to an orange-red hand.
Following the directions displaying on Carson’s wrists (which January made note of asking about later), they made their way to a relatively secluded corner of the park, wooded and shaded from prying eyes. The location didn’t surprise January or Carson as that was what most typical Ghosts would choose. What wasn’t typical was found as soon as January found her, limping and holding onto her torso, auburn hair falling into her face.
“Michelle,” she said in low voice. She took off for her amidst Carson’s plea to wait. January ignored him, concerned for her friend who wasn’t trained for jumping. She was only a desk worker, a paper pusher who researched the jumps and suspects. Never actual jumping.
Michelle set her hazel eyes on her friend, a flash of relief shown through them, then they darkened. “No! You shouldn’t have come.”
“What? Why?” January asked as Carson caught up to her.
“It’s a trap, Jan.” Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she collapsed to the ground. January rushed to her side and checked for a pulse. Still alive. She breathed a sigh of relief, her gaze raking over the park and the shadows.
Carson did the same, weapon in hand and ready for action. He nodded toward the trees. “Stay here with your friend. I think I see something.”
“Wait. No. You need—”
Too late, he was already out of earshot and stepping into the collection of trees and bushes. She turned her gaze back to her friend, worried about her wellbeing and growing dizzy from all the questions running circles through her mind.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Carson said as he returned.
January lifted her gaze to his, not in the mood to play his guessing games. “What, Carson?”
He cleared his throat, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. “I’ve never heard of this happening, except in the first few jumps. But, the guy ended up in a tree. We have to get him out of it before anyone else sees him. Besides, he’ll start to stink up the area. There’ll be no way to keep that from getting back.
True.
That’s usually how they checked the success of each Ghost. There would be some report somewhere that headquarters could find. There wasn’t a recorded second the Union couldn’t get their hands on. They were the rulers, so to speak, of January’s time. The gatekeepers.
“We need to get her help, quick, or she’ll die.” January returned her attention to her friend.
“I’ll go get the van. Can you get her to the closest corner?”
January glanced up in time to see he pointed in a specific direction. She nodded. As soon as Carson took off for the death trap, January carefully picked up her friend. Michelle groaned but was able to stand with January’s help.
“It’s okay, Mickie. We’re going to get you some help. Stay with me as long as you can.”
She groaned again, then went limp. January responded, pulling her friend up and hiking her over her shoulder. It may not have been the most comfortable or inconspicuous way of getting her friend to the van, but it worked. She could form a reasonable excuse if needed. This time period was noted for its recreational experimentations, so blaming it on booze or something could be easily done. January got her friend to the corner and searched for Carson, but both he and the van were gone without a trace.
Shit.
An annoying sound blared in short spats, growing louder by the second. She turned and faced the direction where it came from and realized Carson was being chased by another Ghost.
This is going to be fun.
Carson hastily pulled up to the curb. January barely got to the back of the van as shots echoed through the air. She flinched when a couple of bullets hit the door. She turned, taking a seat on the floor and tossing her friend behind the other door for protection. Carson forced the van to accelerate hard, nearly causing January to fall out just as a bullet grazed her face. She hollered, bracing herself against the other door and the frame of the van’s side. Once she had her balance, she pulled the door closed then carefully arranged her friend into a more comfortable position. Once she was done, she rejoined Carson in the front.
“Now what do we do?” she asked.
He shrugged. “They will either run out of bullets or lose us. This is a big city, so it won’t be hard.”
January nodded and clung to the door and armrest again, praying the chase would end sooner rather than later. Her friend needed help, and she couldn’t wait for it for much longer.
***
Too much time passed. They couldn’t shake their pursuers as quickly as January had hoped. Michelle wasn’t doing well when she checked in on her, before Carson carried her back into the facility. Even Phoenix said things would be touch and go for a while before they would see any real change in her friend’s condition. But that was only if she was going to get better. As it was, Michelle had to be the one to decide to live.
January sat next to her friend’s side, holding her hand and sliding her thumb back and forth. She never had the time to process everything before then. She’d been so concerned about getting her friend to safety, that she didn’t stop to think about why she was there or how she ended up becoming a part of the trap.
The answers would have to wait for her friend’s revival. One thing remained certain: she was now a fugitive in a time she didn’t belong to. Going back would mean her death . . . if she went back alone. Yet, the longer she thought about it, the more she realized she was drugged before her jump, and the only person she saw before preparing for the mission was her father. That was the only remaining hazy detail; the time between seeing her father and her jumping, that is. If only there was some way for her to get to her father and ask him what happened.
She would get those answers. She needed them. But for now, she’d wait for her friend to recover and bide her time, blending in as much as possible.
So much for a routine jump, she thought. She shifted her gaze to Carson’s. His eyes locked onto hers. I know you’re hiding something too. I’ll find out, eventually. I’m a very patient woman, Carson, and secrets have a habit of wanting to be found.
He nodded once toward her, unknowingly acknowledging January’s thoughts. She nodded back, then turned her gaze back to her friend.
Hang in there, Mickie.