24

BRIDGER

FEBRUARY 19, 2147

Mom and I are about to enter Shan’s hospital room. We had to wait over an hour while the doc on duty patched him up before we could see him. But Shan was lucky. One bullet hit him in the fleshy part of his upper left arm, and another grazed his left cheek. He’s going to be fine.

I can’t help but think about what would have happened if Professor March hadn’t followed Shan and me to the museum. He saved my life. Now I’m even more torn, and I’m feel guilty for ever doubting Professor March. I don’t understand why Dad doesn’t want me to trust him, but I also know now that the professor wouldn’t hurt me. Hell, he put his own life on the line just to save mine. What if Dad is wrong about him? I just wish I knew what Professor March did to make Dad feel the way he does.

The moment we see Shan, Mom goes to pieces. He looks so helpless, lying in his bed sedated. She sits at the side of his bed and sobs again.

The door slides open and a nurse enters the room, dressed in the hospital’s blue med uniform. “Are you Leithan’s mother?”

Mom glances up at her, wiping her eyes. “He goes by his middle name, Shan. Leithan is his first name.”

“I see,” the nurse replies. “I need to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

While Mom talks to the nurse, I stare at Shan, completely gutted. His wounds have been cleaned and bandaged. Thanks to the genetic modifications the Purists hate so much, he should be completely healed within a day or two. Except for scars. Shan will have to deal with those forever, whether he likes it or not.

But he shouldn’t have to. He shouldn’t have been shot. If I hadn’t made him leave the book room, he would have been fine.

Shortly after the nurse leaves, Grandma enters the room. She looks like she’s aged a decade. “I got here as soon as I could. How is he?” she asks, joining Mom by his bed.

In a hollow voice, Mom says, “He’ll live.”

Grandma starts to take a seat on the other side of the bed, but Mom says, “Judith, now isn’t a good time for you to be here. I’d prefer to be here alone with my children.”

I sit up a little straighter. Wow, even under these circumstances, Mom still acts completely selfish.

Grandma sits in the chair anyway and reaches out to hold Shan’s hand. In a quiet but firm tone, she says, “You have a lot of nerve telling me to leave. This is my grandson. My flesh and blood. I will be here for him if I damn well please.” Her eyes flick to Mom for a moment. “Besides, I don’t see your parents. At least I’m here.”

Under different circumstances, Mom’s expression would be comical. Her mouth opens and shuts several times and she practically sputters. But Grandma is right. Mom was furious earlier when she found out that her own parents decided not to come see Shan. They’re part of a team of DTA field agents who collaborate with international versions of our time-bending organization. And since they’re in the middle of a six-month work trip in China, they said they would just come visit once their assignment is finished. All because Shan’s injuries aren’t life-threatening. But I don’t expect them to even show up then. They didn’t even bother returning for Dad’s memorial ceremony last year. The last time we saw them was three years ago.

Mom closes her eyes and slides her hands slowly over her face, then looks back at Grandma. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just …” she trails off, her eyes drifting to Shan. “I’ve never been through something like this. It’s terrifying.”

“It is. I’ve been where you are. Only things didn’t work out so well.”

A thick silence follows. I know they’re thinking of Dad. We were devastated when his body was discovered last year, especially Grandma, but she forced herself to keep going. She said she had to be strong for Shan and me.

Suddenly I wish I could just tell them the truth about him. That he’s still alive. That someone has figured out how to stabilize clones, and he’s totally sane. But I can’t. They’d think I was having another breakdown.

A little while later, my DataLink chimes. It’s Elijah. “I’ll go to the waiting room,” I tell Mom.

“Come right back when you’re finished,” she says.

It’s weird. As I walk out of the room, something in the corner by the door catches my eyes. The air appears to shimmer for a moment. My heart begins to race. Could it be somebody cloaked? Maybe Dad? Or was it just my imagination. I stare at the spot for a few seconds, but I don’t see the shimmer anymore. I just shake my head. With everything that’s happened today, I must be seeing things. After all, I did have a large dose of Calmer right after the shooting, and hallucinations are sometimes a side effect.

In a quiet corner of the waiting room, I accept the comm. Elijah and Zed’s worried faces appear together. Since Zed’s fathers live out of state, he usually stays with Elijah when he goes off campus on the weekends. But sometimes he flies out to California to visit them and his eleven-year-old sister, Alycia.

“How’s Shan doing?” Zed asks. For once, he’s completely serious.

“Okay. Thankfully his injuries weren’t serious.”

Elijah sighs in relief. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. But how are you doing? You could have been seriously hurt, man.”

“Yeah, I’m relieved that Professor March followed you again,” Zed adds. “I don’t even want to think about what could have happened if he hadn’t.”

I think back to the immediate aftermath of the shooting. Space-bending medics arrived within minutes. After Shan and the other wounded people were taken to the hospital, Professor March stayed with me while I answered the investigators’ questions, then he accompanied me to the hospital to meet Mom. He didn’t go in with me, though. He said his presence would probably agitate Mom. Before he left, I asked him why he followed us to the museum, and he said he’d had a gut feeling that he should watch out for us a little longer. I’m glad he did.

Elijah leans in closer and says, “You know what’s really scary? The DataFeed is reporting that the shooting here wasn’t as bad as in the other cities that Purist psycho mentioned. Nineteen dead in Mexico City, fifteen in Seattle, twenty-eight in New York, and ten here. All in museums that house artifacts brought back by Time Benders. That is one sick bastard to order something like that.”

“I know. I just don’t understand. What was he thinking? The government will never go along with what he wants,” I say. “And now everyone is going to be too damn afraid to do anything.”

“Yep, and to think all the gunmen were Space Benders. Furing traitors,” Zed says with a sneer.

That’s something I still can’t wrap my mind around. Why in the hell would Space Benders agree to commit murder for those Purist scum? In the attacks today, which all occurred simultaneously, the gunmen entered the museums, shot as many people as possible, then vanished before authorities could arrive. Time-bending agents who were sent back to investigate the crimes had no way to know where they went when they shifted.

Meaning it could happen again.

“You’re right, man. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life,” Elijah says.

“Yeah. I thought we were all going to die,” Zed says next.

“Same here. I never want to go through anything like that again.” I pause for a moment. “How are Tara and Alora? I don’t even remember seeing them after Shan was shot.”

“They’re fine. Tara’s parents picked her up, and Alora’s mom came for her right after that. My dad wouldn’t leave them alone at the museum,” Elijah says. “Let me tell you, Alora’s mom was freaked. I heard her saying she was never letting Alora out of her sight again.”

Zed nods. “I bet she’s having the worst birthday ever tonight.”

“It’s her birthday?” I ask.

“It will be tomorrow,” Zed replies. “But her mom was oh-so-insistent earlier that she come back home to celebrate with her.”

I feel awful for her now. I had no idea.

Grandma waves to me from the doorway. “I’ve got to go,” I say. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

The moment I get back to Shan’s room, Mom says, “I’m going to let you go with Judith tonight. You’ll be more comfortable with her.”

“Really?” I ask, looking from her to Grandma. Mom has never liked me going to Grandma’s, and with the camping trip last weekend, I figured she would try to force me to stay away.

“We’ve come to an understanding,” Grandma says.

“You stay with her and don’t go anywhere else tonight. Understood?” Mom asks. “I’m not taking any chances of you getting hurt too. Not until those fanatics are found and Nulled.”

Then she gets up and hugs me. “I love you, Bridger.” Then she says to Grandma, “Please take care of him.”

“Always,” she replies.

I look away. I can’t remember the last time Mom said that she loved me. I can’t remember the last time Mom and Grandma were civil to each other. I blink a few times because my stupid eyes are filling up with tears. I tell myself to man up. Dad would never act like this.

It’s early in the evening by the time we get to Grandma’s place. She orders some food to be delivered to the apartment. Neither of us want to be out in public right now.

And apparently nobody else does, either. On the way here, the area was practically deserted. Except for the police and military Space Benders. There were even more of them out on patrol.

Grandma and I eat mostly in silence. She asks a few questions about what happened at the museum, but she already knows most of it. Investigators already questioned the survivors who weren’t injured. I still can’t believe that it happened. Mass shootings were common in the past, but things like that shouldn’t happen now.

All because of a few furing Purists. They’re so insistent on sticking with their backward way of thinking. If they paid attention to the past, they would know that violence like that doesn’t solve anything. If anything, the government will punish them even more. They’ll punish all of them, not just the Purists who were involved in the shootings.

“I’m exhausted. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed. Do not leave this apartment,” Grandma says.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Feeling restless, I activate the TeleNet and scroll through the DataFeed, but there’s nothing but news about the shooting, which I don’t want to relive. It’s seared into my brain. All the bodies scattered around the museum. I remember what Shan looked like when I got to him. He was lying on the ground, clutching his hand over the gunshot wound in his arm. And the blood. There was so much of it. On his clothes, on his face, on the floor. His face was so pale and ghostlike. He was in total shock. He couldn’t focus on anything. And he kept asking if he was going to die. I’m thankful Professor March was there to reassure him. I was a complete wreck.

I press my fists against my eyes. We used to be so close, but lately I’ve viewed him as nothing but a nuisance. If I’d just let him stay with us today, he wouldn’t have been hurt. I need to change—spend more time with him, like I used to when we were little.

I switch off the TeleNet, my thoughts drifting to Alora. I wish I could let her know that Shan’s going to be okay. But sending her a comm is off limits. I wonder what she’s doing tonight, how she’s reacting to everything. And then I remember what Elijah and Zed said. It’s her birthday tomorrow. I feel a pang of regret for not getting a present for her. I know, it’s ridiculous to care about that with the shooting and Shan getting hurt. But I do. I don’t know why, but I do.

Then I remember something. Last year, I stole the Jewill that her father had given her when she was a child. That’s because at the time I didn’t know that she really belonged in this century and thought it was a bad idea to leave future tech in the past. When I returned to this time period to find a Mind Redeemer, I stashed the Jewill in one of the hidden compartments in Dad’s desk.

I rush into his bedroom, which Grandma uses now. It still looks the same as when Dad lived here, only his scent—something kind of woodsy—is long gone. In the bathroom, I hear Grandma getting out of the shower. My fingers fly, opening the middle desk drawer of Dad’s antique desk, and seeking out the hidden compartment. I snatch out the Jewill and barely have enough time to stuff it in my pocket and get out of the room. A few moments later, she emerges in the living room, dressed in dark green pajamas.

“I thought you were going to bed,” I say.

She sits on the couch next to me and pats me on the knee. “I wanted to see how you were doing first. Are you okay?”

I shrug. “I suppose so, under the circumstances.” I look away for a moment, thinking of the warning we received right before the shooting. “Do you know if there’re any leads on finding the man in the vid?”

“I checked in at headquarters a little while ago. They did manage to identify him. His name is Jode Lincoln, and he was an Information Tech specialist who was fired ten years ago for hacking into his company’s system to steal money from wealthier Gen Mods who controlled the company. He served several years in prison for that, but since his release, he’s been living off the grid. We have no idea where he is now. We also haven’t had any success in identifying the shooters. It’s impossible to track Space Benders when they shift. But I can promise you that if they’re ever found, they will be charged with first-degree murder and Nulled. It’s beyond inexcusable that they would kill their own kind,” she says with a look of disgust. “I’m so frustrated. We haven’t been able to trace the origin of the broadcast, so that means Lincoln has professional-level tech help on his end. But we’re not giving up. We’ll find them, one way or another. People like that always make mistakes.”

She has to be right, but still, it’s hard to hear that the investigators don’t have any other leads. Since the threat was made to the government and all Gen Mods, the feds will be involved in trying to stop them. That means local police will be working with military Space, Time, and Mind Benders. Hopefully it won’t take too long to catch the shooters. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like otherwise.

And that makes me think of Ellis and the Sim of our war-torn future. These rogue Purists have to be responsible for the bioweapon he told me about. But how would they have access to that kind of tech? I understand how they could learn to hack into the DataNet. That’s something anybody can learn to do, with enough patience. But creating a weapon that specifically targets Gen Mods is something only a geneticist would be able to do. Purists aren’t allowed to enter fields like that anymore. So that means there must be even more traitors working for them than just the Space Benders.

I’m so tempted to mention it to Grandma, but Ellis’s warning not to talk to authority figures makes me wait. He was adamant about preserving the timeline until the bioweapon attack. I understand that. I mean, I’ve had that drilled in my head by Dad since I was little.

But Ellis could have warned me about Shan being shot. I could have kept him safe.

“I’m turning in now. Goodnight.” Grandma stands and arches an eyebrow at me. “Remember, no going out tonight.”

“Trust me,” I say. “I don’t want to. Not with psychotic Purists out there.”

An hour later, I exit the apartment building. My eyes are fixed on the cloudy night sky, and I suck in great gulps of the cold air. It makes me feel better, being out here. But I also feel guilty for breaking my promise to Grandma. I tried to go to sleep, but my mind wouldn’t stop playing back the scene at the museum, freaking out about what could have happened to Shan. About what could have happened to me, if Professor March hadn’t pushed me down. My throat was tight, and my chest felt like a shuttle was parked on it. Since the Calmer I’d taken earlier had worn off and I couldn’t find any more in the apartment, I had to get out. My body felt like it would explode if I didn’t.

Right now, it’s only a little after nine. There’s still an eleven o’clock curfew, thanks to the protests. I’m not sure where I’m going. I just need to be outside for a while. To feel like I’m still free, even though it’s feeling more and more like I’m not. How can you be free when you’re constantly worried that you could be hurt at any moment?

I don’t pass many civilians as I walk down the sidewalk. But there are plenty of law enforcement officers, both police and military. They stare at everyone who passes them. I force myself not to look away. No reason to make them suspicious of me, especially since I haven’t done anything.

“It’s a nice night for a stroll, isn’t it?” someone asks from behind me.

I whirl around, instantly recognizing the voice. It’s my dad, and he’s staring at me with such a sad expression.

I don’t know what to say at first. It’s still weird seeing him like this—Dad was forty-four when he died, but the cloned version of him appears to be a decade or so younger. Probably not old enough to have an eighteen-year-old son, anyway.

I have a million questions. Instead of asking anything, I cross the short distance between us and hug him. His folds his arms around me, and suddenly I feel like I’m a kid again. I feel safe.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say.

“There isn’t anywhere else I want to be right now. I just wish your brother were here too.”

I pull away from him. “Do you know what happened?”

“Of course. I got to the hospital soon after he arrived.”

So it wasn’t my imagination—that shimmer I saw in the corner was Dad checking in. I feel bad for him, not being able to interact with us. Not being able to talk to his own mom. I can’t imagine how lonely that would be.

“Can you believe Mom and Grandma actually got along?” I ask.

Dad runs a hand over the top of his hair, his eyebrows raised. “That was wild. I thought hell would freeze over before that would ever happen.”

“How’s Shan doing now? Did you get to see him when he was awake?”

“I did. He was … doing as well as can be expected. He’s not in any pain, but he’s terrified.”

My fists clench. I’ve never experienced blind hatred for anyone, not even General Anderson when he was such an ass to me last year. But if Jode Lincoln or one of his followers were directly in front of me, I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot them.

“Maybe he’ll be able to go home tomorrow,” I manage to say.

“That’s the plan. The doc came in right before I left and said as much.” Dad pats me on my shoulder. “So you can stop worrying. He’ll be fine.”

“But it was my fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself. If anything, I wish I’d been here to stop it. But I can’t change what’s already happened.”

“I know,” I say, lowering my gaze. “It’s just, if I had let him stay in the room with me today …”

“But you didn’t. It happened, and there’s nothing you can do about it now. What do you want to do? Keep second guessing yourself? That path leads to fear, and you can’t do that for the rest of your life. None of us can. We need to take action and get rid of people like those terrorists. They’re a threat to our security and freedom.”

Two military Space Benders are heading our way. They scope us out and politely nod to Dad as they pass since he’s wearing his uniform. For the first time, I notice that his insignia indicates that he’s a colonel now. At the time of his death, he was a lieutenant colonel. So not only was he cloned, he’s also been promoted.

I point to the badge. “So how did that come about?”

Dad gives me a weary-looking smile. “It’s part of my new identity for when I have to go out in public, since I’m officially deceased. I hope at some point I can rejoin the DTA using my real name. That is, if the latest drug they’re using to stabilize me, Clonitin, works permanently. It’s tedious being sent on solo assignments all the time.”

I’ve been wondering about that. The whole reason cloning was outlawed at the turn of the century was because they always ended up going insane. And according to Adalyn when I talked to her last year, the same thing happened to Alora’s father.

“So if this new drug works, do you think the government might legalize cloning again?”

“Possibly. I don’t know for sure. I’m just happy to be alive.”

“But how do you keep it a secret? Everyone at the DTA knows you.”

Something like sorrow crosses his face. “I’m not allowed to be around the people who used to know me. All of my assignments are out in the field, and they’re given to me through my DataLink by my superior officer.”

“You mean General Anderson?” I ask.

Dad ignores my question and leads me to a nearby café with outdoor tables. We sit at a table near the entrance and he orders two lemonades for us when the waiter approaches. When we’re alone again, Dad leans back in his chair and studies me for a moment.

“Look, I’m going to just be blunt here. I know you’ve still been seeing Alora. Son, I told you to stay away from her for a reason. She isn’t good for you.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

The waiter returns with our drinks, glancing around nervously as Dad pays him.

After the waiter scurries back inside the café, Dad takes a sip and grimaces. “That’s a little bitter, but I suppose it’ll have to do. Now, to answer your question. There are two reasons you can’t trust her. First of all, she’s a Dual Talent. Don’t you remember before how I told you to not trust Telfair anymore? Same reason. Telfair and I were best friends from the time we entered the Academy, and yet he never told me that he was a Dual Talent. It was only after I was revived that I learned the truth, and learned about all the deceitful things he did over the years. That’s the way it is with those people. They’re power hungry and will put themselves first. Every time.”

“How could you believe that? The DTA has been training Dual Talents at school. Why would they do that if they’re as bad as you claim?”

He sighs. “There’s a split in the government. Some believe that Dual Talents are an important part of our future. Lawmakers; leaders in all three departments governing Time, Space, and Mind Benders; the owners of the History Alive Network—all of them would do anything to create even more Dual Talents. But there are others, like me, who believe they will eventually ruin everything. General Anderson is one. Even President Tremblay. With their abilities, Dual Talents could make a power grab and turn this country into a dictatorship. We can’t let that happen.”

“But Alora isn’t like that. In fact, all she wants to do is find out who is responsible for her father’s death.”

Dad takes another sip of his lemonade. “I can help you with that. The DTA was behind it. He was a danger to innocent people, so they had to eliminate him permanently.”

The words are like a knife in my chest. How could he say such things about Alora and other Dual Talents? And how could he sound so cold about Nate Walker? The father I remember wouldn’t have been so harsh. He always tried to soften any bad news. Maybe the change in him is starting. I hope not. I don’t want to lose my dad again, even if he’s a clone now.

Remembering he said there was a second reason, I ask, “Okay, you think Dual Talents can’t be trusted. Then why did you bother going back to save Alora in 2013 if you thought she was so awful? I thought it was because of Adalyn. You used to love her, right?”

Dad lets out a rueful laugh. “True, but that’s when we were young. Adalyn did ask me to save Alora since we had remained friends, but I wasn’t going to at first.”

“She never said anything about that when I visited her,” I say, leaning forward in my seat.

“That’s because I never told her no. I asked her to let me think about it for a few days.”

“But then you changed your mind. What made you decide to break our biggest rule?”

Dad closes his eyes and heaves a sigh. “Son, I had orders from General Anderson. If you think about it, it’s not surprising. I had a non-regulation Chronoband when I originally went to 2013. How do you think I got it?”

“Wait, what? Why would he do that?” I ask.

“For the same reason he covered up the real cause of my death, the same reason he went through all that trouble to capture you and then allow you to escape.”

Before Dad can finish, the answer hits me. General Anderson already knew what was going to happen, and he was making sure he preserved the timeline. Professor March revealed to me that the general personally investigated Dad’s death after his body was found last year. He already knew I was going to go rogue. He already knew that Alora was going to live and that Vika would die. He knew Dad and Vika would be cloned.

He just made sure it would all happen, because during his investigation, he realized certain things had to happen to ensure the continuation of the timeline. The only thing I don’t get is why he personally investigated Dad’s death in the first place.

Fure, I’m going to wild out if I keep thinking about this.

I close my eyes and inhale slowly a few times. The implications for what Anderson has been doing are staggering. How much tampering has he done in order to preserve the timeline? Or has any DTA leader done? Do we really have free will, or is our fate sealed on the basis of what someone from our own future says we have to do?

“I don’t know what to think,” I mutter, looking away from Dad. Across the street from us, a Jumbotron flashes Jode Lincoln’s face repeatedly, along with the images of the gunmen. All wore masks that completely covered their heads and faces, concealing their identities. There’s a reward for any information about the location of Jode, or anyone connected to his organization. Then the feeds cycle to various news reports of protests being suppressed around the country.

Pointing a finger to the Jumbotron, Dad says, “That’s what you should be concerned about, not chasing ghosts. And if you don’t stop … well, I might be forced to alert the general that Alora knows more than she should.”

My face grows hot. “That’s completely unnecessary. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You should know by now that life isn’t fair. So you have to do whatever it takes to protect innocent people, especially those you love. From now on, I want you to stay out of trouble. Do your work at school, go home on the weekends, and don’t do anything that could put you, your brother, and my mother in jeopardy. And that means staying away from Alora, Telfair, and any other Dual Talents you might come across.”

“But why? It’s not like I do anything now to get in trouble. And Alora would never do anything to hurt me.”

“You feel that way now, but eventually she will.” He glances over his shoulder, then says, “I’m working on a way to ensure that nobody will ever get hurt by those terrorists again. I’m going to make sure that you and everyone else will always be safe.”

Alarm bells go off in my head. I wonder if he’s talking about the bioweapon that’s supposed to detonate sometime in the future. The first thing that pops in my mind is that he could be responsible for the weapon.

But that’s ridiculous. Ellis said the bioweapon was designed to kill innocent people. Dad would never do anything like that. He may not like Dual Talents, and he doesn’t like what the Purists are doing, but he’s not a murderer. Jode Lincoln, on the other hand, is a murderer. He has to be the one behind the bioweapon. After all, he hates all Gen Mods, especially Talents. So instead, I ask, “I don’t understand. What exactly are you going to do to keep everyone safe?”

Dad glances at his DataLink and stands. “My time is up, but believe me, I do have something in mind. I just can’t tell you right now. I can’t do anything to jeopardize the plans.” He leans in closer to me, lowering his voice. “I need for you to trust me on this one, and I promise that soon we’ll get to be a real family again. Now it’s time for you to go back home. It’s getting late, and you don’t want my mother to find you missing.”

I don’t want to leave him. I wish I could stay. I could talk to him for hours. “When can I see you again?”

“It’ll be sooner than you think.”

I stand and we embrace. Then I tear myself away and head back to the apartment. I turn back around to see him one more time, but he’s already gone.