28

ALORA

FEBRUARY 22, 2147

The alarm I set on my DataLink yanks me out of a fitful sleep at 4:45 in the morning. I get up, already dressed in black jeans and a dark purple sweater, and braid my hair. After that, I hide the DataLink in my dresser. Then I touch my Jewill, making sure it’s still fastened around my neck, and check the mirror. Dark smudges line my eyes, but there’s nothing I can do about that. Sleep will have to wait.

I’ve decided for sure that I’m going to see my father today.

It’s now a little after five o’clock in the morning. I don’t have to be at my first class for another three hours. That should give me time to find Dad and figure out why he’s stayed away from me for the ten months I’ve been in his time period. He owes me an explanation, especially since he’s been seeing Vika regularly.

A lump appears in my throat. I wish I could wash it down with some juice, but I don’t want to go into the kitchen and risk waking Tara. More than likely, she would try to talk me out of going. And I’m done listening to other people when it comes to my own father.

Standing in front of my bed, I press the stone on my Jewill, then close my eyes and carefully picture Dad’s face as it appeared in Vika’s digigraph. His features were the same, but the head full of blond hair was gone, and his skin was covered in scars. Please, let me go to him. Please.

The comfortable warmth of my bedroom is replaced with a searing heat and a pungent stench. My eyes fly open and I twist around to see that I’m standing in what appears to be a small, wooden barn. The floors are packed dirt, and a rusted, old-fashioned wood-burning stove has been fitted along the far side of the wall. A rickety picnic table sits to the left side of the stove. And directly in front of it, but out of the direct path of the heat, are five dirty cots, men and women sound asleep in them. A sixth man is standing in the barn’s doorway, staring up at the sky.

My heart leaps when I realize it’s Dad.

I want to rush over to him, but curiosity and common sense make me wait. I need to figure out where I am and who these people are. First I study Dad. He’s holding a white mug with steam coming off the top. I wonder if it’s hot chocolate, because Aunt Grace told me once that Dad always hated the taste of coffee.

He’s wearing dark-brown denim pants, a plain green button-up shirt, and a brown leather coat. The scars are harder to see in the dark, but I can still make them out. I ache for the pain he must have gone through, but I’m glad he made it out of the explosion alive. Surprisingly, I feel sympathy for the other two DTA officers who died. I wonder if Dad has any idea how the shuttle exploded.

Suddenly, Dad turns around, as if he senses I’m here. I hold perfectly still.

He doesn’t seem to notice me. Instead, he takes a sip from his mug, then barks out, “Get up, get up! It’s time to work!”

Usually, when I wake up, I allow myself a few minutes to stretch and shake off the last bits of sleep. Not these people. They spring up and are on their feet in just a few seconds, standing at the ends of their cots. They’re all wearing wrinkled clothes that look like they haven’t been washed in weeks. I guess that explains the smell.

“Let’s go. Milt’s got breakfast ready and he said not to be late if you want to eat,” Dad says. He turns and saunters out of the barn, while the five people behind him follow in a line.

My brow wrinkles. What on earth is going on?

By the time I get to the entrance, they’re already halfway across the yard. The sun peeks over the tops of pine trees that surround the clearing where we’re located. In addition to the barn I’m standing in, I can see the clearing also holds a two-story white house with a sloping roof and wraparound porch, a chicken coop, a field of cattle behind the house, two old sheds. Most surprisingly, there are also two small silver shuttles about the size of compact cars from Aunt Grace’s time, and one shuttle that’s similar to the size of a school bus. There’s an old oak tree planted on the right side of the house.

So I’m obviously on a farm, but where? I could be anywhere.

Somehow, I have to get Dad alone so I can let him know I’m here. So he can tell me how he ended up here, apparently in the middle of nowhere.

Dad leads the five men and women inside the farm house and into a large kitchen, where an older, pot-bellied man is stirring something on a stove. The stove is old-fashioned, with spiral burners that are kind of like the ones I saw in movies from the 1980s and 1990s.

I wonder if Dad has been going back in time to get this stuff for them, or if these people bought them from a genuine artifact reseller.

“Well don’t just stand there. Take your seats,” the old man tells the people who followed Dad inside. His accent seems to be southern, but it has an unfamiliar cadence to it. Everyone sits around a large, square, wooden table. Glass bowls and spoons are set at each seat, along with glasses already filled with water. One at a time, each person takes their bowl and the man serves them what appears to be oatmeal.

Dad grabs a spoon and bowl, too, and after having his filled, he leaves the kitchen and walks across the hall to a dining room. It has another long, rectangular table and white painted walls that are lined with rows of TeleNet screens. Some of the screens are in sleep mode, and some have operators in front of them, sorting through I don’t know what. Images flash by so fast I can’t make anything out.

“Good morning, Nate,” a man sitting at the head of the table says. His voice sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it.

“Morning,” Dad murmurs. He sits in an empty seat at the opposite end of the table from the man who spoke and digs into his breakfast, not bothering to talk to any of the other people. There are fifteen men and women total, plus a young boy who looks so pale that he’s obviously sick. That excludes Dad and the three people working at the TeleNet stations. Everyone else is eating plates of eggs, sausage, and toast slathered in jelly. The scent of the food is heavenly. I used to get stuff like this most every morning with Aunt Grace. Now it’s only an occasional treat, and it doesn’t taste anywhere as good as hers.

But then I finally notice the man who spoke to Dad sitting at the head of the table and nearly fall over when I realize I recognize him. It’s Jode Lincoln, the Purist who ordered the murder of all those people three days ago. My fingers curl into my palms. What I wouldn’t give to strangle him.

Then a sick feeling makes my stomach churn. My father is here with a terrorist. How in the hell is that possible?

“How are the new recruits doing?” Jode asks, directing the question to Dad.

“They’re hanging in there. I think they’ll all work out,” Dad says.

“I really hope they do, for your sake. That last crew you brought in was unacceptable.”

“It won’t happen again,” Dad replies.

“It better not,” Jode says, in between bites of scrambled eggs. “Not if you want that pretty daughter of yours in New Denver to stay perfectly safe.”

Dad flinches but doesn’t say anything.

And like a slap to the face, it hits me: I know why Dad is here with these people. Jode Lincoln is using me to blackmail him.

I feel dizzy. I step just outside of the doorway and cringe when one of the wooden planks makes a creaking sound.

“Did you hear that?” the woman next to Dad asks. “Sounds like someone’s in the hallway.”

Chaos immediately erupts. The food is forgotten as everyone jumps up from the table.

“Get the comm-sets,” Lincoln shouts to the woman on his left. She rushes to a cabinet behind her, yanks open the top drawer, and takes out a tan briefcase. She sets it in front of Lincoln, where he snaps open the top and starts tossing comm-sets to the people around the table, including Dad. “Get to it,” he growls. “It might not be a false alarm this time.” To the woman, he orders her to take the young boy to their “safe spot,” wherever that is.

While the people in the room are occupied with putting on the comm-sets correctly, I take the opportunity to dive under the table, right next to Dad’s legs. Because no matter where I go outside, someone will be able to see me, and I have the feeling these people will shoot me no matter what I say to explain myself.

Everyone pulls stunners out of their pockets, except for Dad. While all the people who were eating at the table rush out to search the house, the ones at the TeleNet stations look uneasily back at Jode Lincoln.

“Keep working!” he barks at them. Then, while striding across the room, he says to Dad, “Guard this room with your life.”

“I need a weapon to do that,” Dad says.

“You had your chance with that, and you blew it. Figure out some way to keep this area secure.”

Footsteps thud throughout the house while the others search. I wait until I hear the majority of them grow fainter before tapping Dad’s right foot. To his credit, he stays perfectly still, then he peeks over the side, comm-sets in place. He should be able to see my outline in white, but the Jewill masks my words. So I press the stone to lower my cloak, and when I do Dad nearly falls off his chair.

“Activate it again and move to the center of the table,” he whispers. “The others will take their search outside soon.”

I give him a thumbs-up and press the button before gingerly making my way between the legs of the table to reach its center. There, I wait for an eternity before Dad waves for me to come out.

Dad tells one of the techs. “I think I see something in the yard. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“That’s not what Jode told you to do!” the man says in a fearful voice.

Dad ignores him and exits the room, heading to a staircase to our left. We quickly ascend the steps and turn right down a long hallway. Dad goes into the last door on the left, waiting until he’s sure I’ve followed him. The room isn’t that big, but it’s filled with bunk beds. Somehow they managed to squeeze three in a room the size of a large closet. Once the door is locked, I lower my cloak.

Dad hugs me tight for a few seconds before pulling back. “Dear God, how did you find me?”

“The same way I’m sure you found Vika. Can you shift just by thinking of a person, instead of a place?”

“Yes, but I had no idea you could do that as well.”

“I didn’t know either, until recently. All of these abilities are still new to me, and apparently we are the only two people who can do that. We’re like unicorns.” I try to smile, but I’m sure it looks more like a wince. “So … where are we?”

“We’re on a farm several miles outside of Draperville, Georgia. Completely off the grid.” Dad rubs his right hand over his head.

Being this close to him in person reveals the extent of his injuries. Scar tissue covers most of the left side of his body, and some of the right side. Still, his features are the same. His eyes are the same. I wish I could see him smile, but instead he’s wearing a grim expression.

“You need to leave now,” he hisses. “If Lincoln finds you he’ll never let you go. He’s been threatening to hurt you if I don’t do everything he says.”

Dad’s probably right, but I didn’t come here just to be sent away. “Not until you give me some answers.”

Dad eyes flick to the window. “Sweetheart, it isn’t safe here.”

“I know. Let’s make this quick. One, how did you survive the shuttle explosion?”

Dad looks like he wants to argue with me, but he just sighs. “I planted the bombs. They were in my shoes, and I set the timer shortly after the pilot took off. Once I overpowered my escort, I took off the Inhibitor they’d put on me, shifted out of the shuttle, and then shifted back with a body I’d stolen from the morgue. Perks of bending both space and time,” he says, smiling weakly. “But I timed the drop-off of the body too close to the blast and was caught in it mid-shift. My recovery was hell.”

I cover my mouth with both hands, shocked. “You killed two innocent people to escape,” I say.

“Trust me, they weren’t innocent. They had plenty of blood on their hands. I did what I had to do to survive.”

I swallow a few times, trying to see it from his perspective. “Okay, I get it. But why did you come here? Why didn’t you just try to get Mom again and bring her back to live with Aunt Grace and me?”

“I didn’t because of your visit the night before I faked my death,” he says. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I was fully planning to take Adalyn to you, but what you told me changed everything.”

Now feeling horrified, I whisper, “How?”

“From your visit, I learned several things. One, you did live with Grace for many years, but without me or your mom. Two, you were now living in this time with your mother, and I was no longer a part of your lives. That meant that if I brought Adalyn to the past, or even if I went there myself, that would change the timeline. And I refuse to do that. So I came back to Georgia to wait until after your seventeenth birthday, since you visited me right before that date, so I could reintroduce myself to you. It was the closest I could get to being home without actually going there.”

“Why didn’t you come, though?” I ask. “I just turned seventeen. From my point of view, I just went back and talked to you four days ago. But it’s been eleven years for you.”

“Because I mistakenly trusted Lincoln when he took me in. His crew found me stumbling around in the woods, half burned and barely alive. They took me in and help me to mend. I thought they were decent, hardworking people trying to survive in a world that didn’t agree with how they chose to live. I understood that, even agreed with it. And when they discovered my unique situation, and that I hate the government as much as they do, they put me to work. At first it was just stealing supplies they needed and were usually denied. Food, drink, medicines, extra clothing. But after Lincoln’s hackers learned of your existence, Lincoln started demanding that I do things I didn’t want to do. Things I’m ashamed of.” He looks away, tears welling in his eyes. “Any time I tried to leave, Jode would threaten to send one of his mercenaries to hurt you. I couldn’t let him do that. I had no choice but to stay.”

I dread finding out what he did that was so bad. So instead I ask, “You said they only threatened me. What about Vika?”

“They thought she was dead. They don’t know that Halla cloned her. I found myself at their apartment one day when I particularly was longing to see Vika, since I had never had the opportunity to have a relationship with her.”

Even from the bedroom, we can hear shouts from the lower part of the house, then footsteps pounding up the stairs.

“Go, Alora! You’re out of time!”

“I can’t leave without you, Dad. Please come with me.”

Dad takes a big breath and straightens his back, as if he’s steeling himself to do something. “I can’t come with you because I’m a murderer. Those gunmen who shot up the museums? It wasn’t different gunmen. It was me. I killed all those people at the same time. Using my Talents.”

I reel back as if his words are a physical slap. Dad killed all those innocent people.

Someone begins to beat on the door. “Open up, Nate. What are you hiding in there?” Lincoln screams.

I’m repulsed by what he did. How can I accept that he did something so awful—even if it was to protect me? But there isn’t time to mull it over. “Dad, we can work that out later. Just come with me now. Please.”

“I can’t, sweetheart. There’s some things you can’t undo. I can never forgive myself, but I can make sure you’re safe.”

Something—or someone—rams against the door. Again and again.

“Go, sweetheart,” Dad says. “Just go.”

Tears stream down my face. “What about you? They’ll hurt you.”

Dad cracks a hint of a smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just shift outside and tell them I was out there the whole time.”

With cracks showing in the door now, I touch Dad’s hand one more time. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Then I shift back to the Academy.

Later in the afternoon, after my last class with Professor March, Everly says, “I’m going to the gym to exercise. Want to come with?”

“No,” I say slowly, glancing in Professor March’s direction. “I need to talk to him for a few minutes. I might join you later.”

She cocks her head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting strange all day.”

I’ve been trying to acting normal—like I haven’t had my whole life turned upside down. But really, I want to scream for all the world to hear that my father is alive. And that he’s been turned into an assassin, all because of me. The guilt is eating me alive. That’s why I need to talk to someone who can maybe do something to help me. But I just say, “I didn’t sleep much last night. But go ahead without me. I’ll probably join you later.”

After Everly departs, Professor March walks over to me and leans against a desk across from mine. “I don’t have to read your mind to know something is wrong, Alora. What can I do to help?”

Like a dam bursting, I tell him everything. When I’m finished, I’m sobbing.

Professor March’s face is ashen. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, as though deciding how to react. Finally, he says, “I’ll do what I can, but I can’t guarantee Nate’s safety.”

“Don’t tell anyone at the DTA that he was with the Purists,” I beg. “Can you give an anonymous tip or something? Just to make sure Jode Lincoln and his followers are captured?”

Professor March takes my hands and looks me straight in the eye. “I’ll call my sister. We’ll do what we can to protect Nate. I promise. And we’ll just have to hope it’s enough.”