Every cell in the honeycombed walls flickered into life. Each one glowed with a different image, like a mini TV screen.
Buzz and Mary felt their way forward, the screens bathing them in a soft, golden light. Buzz had promised himself he wouldn’t look, but this light in the dark, dark tunnel was so comforting that he found himself drawn to the wall.
He crept toward the nearest flickering cell and watched, a smile tugging at his lips. He saw her straightaway. His mother. She had her arms open wide, and he saw himself as a small child running into them.
In the next cell, he saw his mother and father dancing around the kitchen together. It looked like the Prof was singing as they twirled around. Buzz was in his highchair, and his sister sat on the floor giggling as she watched their parents.
Buzz couldn’t remember ever seeing his parents look so happy together.
In the next cell, he saw himself again. This time at Christmas. He was older—maybe seven or so—and he was eagerly opening presents. He saw his expression change as the seven-year-old Buzz realized there were none from his father. I’ve been too busy to get to the store, the Prof had explained. Next time, I promise. Buzz remembered that Christmas Day clearly. It was the first time he’d called his father the Prof. No one had thought it would stick, but it had.
Buzz could feel that familiar anger now. That feeling he got every time his father chose his work instead of his family. Every time he forgot a birthday, an anniversary, a school play, or a parents’ evening. Why was he like that? Why couldn’t he be like other dads?
The next cell showed his house again, but everything in it looked worn and broken. His sister sat at the breakfast bar. Her shock of red hair was tangled and matted, and her caramel skin looked sallow. She was eating pancakes, but they didn’t look right. They were covered in mold and yet she still ate them, chewing steadily.
Buzz’s eyes traveled along the wall of cells. He saw his sister again. The kitchen was now covered in a thick layer of grime. She sat at the breakfast bar, and the pancakes on her plate were mottled and actually seemed to crawl. Her face looked haggard—she was old and young all at the same time. She stared into space, never blinking, but a tear tracked down her cheek.
In the next cell, he saw his mother. She stood on a small airstrip looking up at the sky. She was searching for something. Her plane. Her clothes were tattered and ragged, and just like Tia, her eyes looked tired and so, so old.
He saw his father again in a new cell—he was framed by darkness. The Prof was shouting, his face critical and sneering.
Buzz saw himself approaching his father—just a view of his back.
The Prof’s expression changed to one of fear as the other Buzz reached for something from his pocket. And all of a sudden there was sound. “Don’t shoot me, Buzz. I’m your father.”
Buzz could feel his whole body shake, as he watched the other Buzz lift whatever it was he had in his hand.
“Stop, please.” Buzz pressed his hand against the cell’s surface and felt it pass through. He got ready to push his whole body forward but felt a hand on his shoulder.
“You can’t go, Buzz.”
Buzz whipped around to see Mary. Her face was drawn and her eyes had a bruised, wounded look to them.
“I have to stop him. Stop me. I’m going to kill my father.”
“I don’t know what it is you see in that cell,” Mary said softly. “I can’t see it, I can’t hear it. But I do know that you shouldn’t go in there. Remember what Saturn said. ‘To survive you will need to walk the tunnel. No side routes, no backward glances.’”
Buzz turned to look at the cell again, but now it was blank.
“I think I just killed my father.” Buzz wrestled the words out and collapsed against the wall and slid to the ground. “That’s my destiny.”
Mary’s skin looked hot and flushed. “It might not be what it seems.”
“He was so scared of me. He asked me to stop and I didn’t.”
Mary sat down next to him, the light from the cells putting her face in and out of shadows. “Buzz, it’s this place. This time tunnel has been designed to drive people mad. I think that is what Saturn wants—what he expects—but we can’t let him win.”
“It’s not about winning, Mary. In my timeline, everything I love is gone. Everything I love has become rotten, and then I discover I’m a killer. How am I supposed to deal with that?”
“Maybe you don’t. Maybe you do what I’m going to do and remind yourself that these are possible futures and not actual ones.” Mary wrapped her arms around her legs protectively. “We’re in control of our own destinies. No one else.”
“What did you see?” Buzz asked. Something in Mary’s voice told him that she was barely keeping herself together.
“I saw a world like the one you’ve described.” Mary almost seemed to be talking to herself. “A rotten place. Broken. But I didn’t seem to care. I didn’t care that my parents looked like zombies or that my grandmother sat in a room that was filthy and festering, because I was somewhere else. And it was dark—a place of death—but I felt right at home. Then . . . Then I saw—”
Mary jumped to her feet. “I’m not talking about this anymore. Come on, we’re getting out of this tunnel before I drive myself mad.”
“Wait—what were you going to say?”
“Nothing, okay?” She grabbed Buzz and pulled him up by his shirt, and for a moment he was struck by just how strong she was.
“Okay, this is the plan,” she growled. “We’re going to look into each other’s eyes all the way to the end of this tunnel.” Her hands tightened on the material. “That is the only thing we’re going to concentrate on doing. Are we clear?”
Buzz frowned. “How are we going to do that and walk at the same time?”
Mary put her hands on Buzz’s shoulders so that they looked at each other directly and his back was facing down the tunnel.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to walk backward.” Mary grinned. “It’s the short straw, but it was my idea, after all.”
Buzz shook his head but found himself smiling despite everything. “Why do I get the feeling I’m always going to be the one drawing the short straw?”
“Because we both know I am the Sherlock in this little team of ours,” Mary replied. “I come up with all the good ideas, and you’re the brawn.”
“Here’s an idea—let’s get out of here.” Buzz plonked his hands on her shoulders.
Mary nodded. “Keep your eyes on mine and we’ll get to the end, I promise.”
They began to walk, and in the dim light Buzz did his best to concentrate on looking into Mary’s eyes. Yet still, at the edges of his vision he could see that the flickering cells in the wall went on throwing up images, and despite his best efforts, his brain kept trying to capture the snippets and decipher what he was seeing.
“Buzz, you’re cheating,” Mary said. “Look into my eyes.”
“I’m trying.” Something crunched beneath Buzz’s foot. “What was that?”
Mary’s gaze darted downward and then back up again. “A skeleton. More than one. Keep walking.”
Beneath his palms he could feel that Mary was shaking, and he wondered if he was as well.
“We aren’t the first ones to try and get down this tunnel, are we?” he said.
Mary kept her eyes fixed on Buzz. “No, I don’t think we are. But trust me, we’re not going to end up as a pile of bones in this place.”
They continued to walk, and after a while Buzz didn’t even flinch when he felt something crunch underfoot. Funny how quickly you can get used to something, he thought. Even really horrible things.
Mary began to squint. “Hey, I can see something. Light! I think we’re almost at the end of the tunnel.”
They walked faster. In fact, they were almost running, which was no easy feat when traveling backward.
Finally they spilled out into a chamber, separated from each other, and stared around. The tunnel behind them began to narrow until the exit had disappeared entirely.
The chamber they were in seemed completely empty except for a heavy door with an ornately carved surface. At first glance, Buzz thought the door had a geometric pattern carved into it. But as he looked closer, he saw that the carving was actually of a man with two faces. The older face looked to the left while the younger one looked to the right. In his left hand, the man held a key, while his right hand was just an empty palm.
Buzz pushed at the door but it didn’t budge. He noticed the large keyhole. “Looks like we’ll need a key.”
Mary nodded. “But there’s nothing in here.”
“So let’s knock.” Buzz’s fingers clenched into a fist and he hammered at the door.
“OW!” came a voice.
“Ouch,” came another.
Buzz stopped knocking. Under his fist, the two carved faces were scowling at him.