Chapter Nine

Traveler

I close the door to my room and wait to hear the lock click into place on the other side. I twist the knob to make sure it’s secure. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for Eero to barge in unannounced, and I can’t have Johanna being completely freaked the fuck out more than she already is. I’m skeptical at the ease with which she’s handling everything. I’ve either hit the jackpot, and she truly is that remarkable, or it’s only a matter of time before she hates everything about me and what I’ve done. I have to make this visit to Health Checks quick, and then covertly get into Tech Division. I find myself concerned about her family worrying about her absence.

Jogging down the hallway, I make my way down the elevators, all the while having a conversation internally with myself about how to get her back home. Sephia finding me in the courtyard creates an entirely new problem set. I can’t shift myself and Johanna back to 2016 when my chip is in place. What the fuck was I thinking? The muscles in my neck and forearms tense as I slam my hand into the elevator wall, sending a spark of blue slithering across the freshly dented metal. “Shit!” I shake my hand from the crunching of my knuckles and the electric aftershocks. The doors ding to life, and I make a sprint for the exit as soon as they open, holding my damaged hand close to my side.

The courtyard is bustling with students, more so than usual for a Saturday night. A typical weekend on campus is deserted save for the loners, introverts, and overall assholes such as myself. Andromeda is called a city, but its demographic is more like a state. To the north of Andromeda, in Wyoming, sits a smaller more isolated city called Freedman. This is where the families of students and agents, who don’t reside in Andromeda or work in the Divisions, have mostly retreated to. It’s also where the ancestors of the civilians that survived The Occurrence have rebuilt. The government placed them there, far enough away from Divisions, but close enough to keep watch on them. To the east is Liberty, in Nebraska. It’s where the farming communities have spread their crops, supplying the rest of the cities with farmed goods and deliveries.

I walk at a brisk pace, with my head down and trying to avoid running into anyone I may be forced to speak with. Moments before reaching the heavy metal doors Johanna and I escaped from earlier, I notice a crowd of people standing off to the right. I see Cerre with her head low and Torrin’s arm is draped around her shoulders. I accidentally make eye contact with him, and to my discomfort, he waves me over. Under my breath, I growl out a curse and make a show of checking my watch, hoping he will catch that I’m in a hurry. “Hey Torrin. Cerre.” Slow jogging up to the huddle, all eyes greet me.

“Late night for you, Traveler,” Torrin mutters. Cerre sniffles under his arms. She glances up at me, and her almond eyes are swollen and red. She has her mousy-brown hair pulled back away from her face. She looks awful.

“Yep,” I reply, glancing back at him.

“Sephia was looking for you earlier. She couldn’t find you all night.” He’s clipping his words in an attempt to seem sharp.

“She found me. Headed to see her now. Cerre, everything okay?” I ask.

She opens her mouth to speak, but Torrin’s body goes rigid and his face twists. “Of course, not. She doesn’t have Arden taking up for her and covering her ass on every assignment like he does you. She’s been in questioning with Authority all day. She’s in a shit ton of trouble over one mistake. Over one lengthy shift,” Torrin barks out. Cerre stares between the two of us in shock, obviously uncomfortable with the exchange.

“I didn’t fucking ask you, now did I?” I take a couple steps toward him, as Cerre places her hand on Torrin’s chest. I look at her puffy, swollen face and decide that now isn’t the time to deal with Torrin. “Your girlfriend is upset; why don’t you work on consoling her instead of misplacing blame on me,” I warn, as much of a threat as it comes out sounding.

As I’m walking away, Torrin chances one more comment. “It’s just odd the way he handles you, Traveler. Even you must admit that. If she loses her spot on the shifting program over this while you’ve had chance after chance…” he says, trailing off.

“What? Exactly what, Torrin?” I walk back to him, taking my hands out of my pockets. His gaze darts to my fists, one already banged up from punching the elevators. “You don’t want to fucking start shit with me tonight. Got it?” I can feel a snarl curling my lips.

Cerre pulls his attention to her by saying something to him that I can’t quite make out. He glares at me, and then turns away, walking toward housing with her still under his arm. The gawking crowd evens out as I make my way to the Shifting Division, slamming my palms on the door. It’s one thing to question me, but Arden is just doing his job. And the other agents don’t know the things about my capabilities that Arden does. He’s risking his job, his freedom, and his life to keep it undisclosed, and I refuse to let anyone disrespect him in my presence.

Cracking my neck from side to side, I attempt to refocus on Johanna. Torrin’s frustration at the situation his girlfriend is in isn’t mine to worry about.

I slow my pace, rounding the corner of the shifting chamber room. The lights are still off, and there doesn’t seem to be any evidence that Johanna and I were ever there tonight. I let out a sigh of relief as I pass by and make my way to Health Division.

Sephia is already here. She’s standing at my usual station; her hair is draped over her face and she doesn’t look up when I enter the room. My chip is in a small metal box on top of a tray, waiting for me. I remove my shirt and hop up on the table, causing the paper to crinkle from my weight. “Sorry I was MIA today; took a jog out into the woods.” I half-lie.

“Mmm,” is all she manages to say, as she pushes buttons on a screen with my medical charts plastered across it. A code must be entered on the screen and into the chip before insertion.

Without turning around, she instructs me to face the door, so she can reinsert my chip. I’m in a hurry, so I’m glad she seems to be as well.

Her icy hands send a shock to my circulatory system and she places her thumbs on the base of my neck. “You have the coldest damn hands, Sephia. Why don’t you tell that ugly boyfriend of yours to buy you some gloves? Vlad can afford it.” I’m met with an unusual silence from her. She doesn’t seem in the mood for banter.

I feel the soft click of the chip being pushed into place and the instant, yet brief, headache pulses through my brain when it begins the process of recording what it needs from me. Pressure builds between my temples and radiates across my forehead before evening out.

“Okay. You’re set. You can go.” I turn around and see she is already facing the screen once again, pushing more buttons.

I hurriedly throw my arms into the sleeves of my shirt and turn to walk out the door. In my haste, I forget the tray that sits inches to my side and I crash into it, sending it slamming to the floor. Sephia yelps at the sound and jerks her head around, her hair flying back from her face. And my body is instantly frozen.

“Sephia. What the fuck is that?” My instinct is to move toward her, but I find myself recoiling.

She backs away while bringing her hand to her face to cover the fresh reddish-purple bruise surrounding her eye socket.

“Sephia?” I ask again, and she turns around, pretending to busy herself with the computer screen.

“Nothing asshole. I wasn’t paying attention, and I hit the doorframe right before I had to go out of my way on a Saturday night to put your chip back in.” She won’t look at me, and her shoulders are slumped as she types. I know she’s lying. I could see the panic written all over her banged-up face when she knew I saw the wound.

I take a breath. “No chance. Did Vlad do that to you?”

She doesn’t immediately answer, but when she does, it’s with her back turned to me, and I can hear her say, “No,” through a cry she’s trying to hide.

“Sephia…” I begin, but she cuts me off.

“I said no. Now unless you want me talking to Vlad about how it took me hours to find you today, no matter where I looked or who I asked, then drop it.” Is she defending this son of a bitch?

“I will. For now. But for fuck’s sake, Sephia…I told you he’s not a good guy. He’s dangerous,” I warn her again, as I walk out the door, shaking my head. The whole Division’s problems seem to have fallen into my lap at the most inopportune time. Fucking Vlad. I should have killed him on the playground when we were kids, years ago.

I hang back in the shadowy corner of the hallway until I see Sephia make her way toward the courtyard. Her hair is pulled entirely over the left side of her face. I wait another five minutes until I’m sure the hallway is completely clear, and then ease my way toward Tech Division.

Tech Division is otherworldly to me. I can do many things with a lot of expertise, but the gadgets in this room and what they do are foreign. I know about the device that can send signals to the satellites in the past, because we were taught about them in Diagnostics. Diagnostics teaches inquiring, potential agents about all the jobs within all the Divisions, and then after a series of mental and physical tests, it analyzes where an individual would fit best. When we covered the jobs within Technical Division, I found myself physically holding my eyelids open to keep from falling asleep. I’m chastising myself now for not taking more interest in this boring shit.

The satellites that roamed across the atmosphere in the past are still there in working condition today. They are mostly used to stay in contact with Herders, the only agents allowed to carry communication devices with them during a gathering assignment. I only know what it’s capable of doing and not how to work the damn thing, but it’s worth a shot at trying.

I walk to the nearest screen, and it fires to life as it detects my body heat approaching. It prompts me to place my palm against a black pad to the right of a glass keyboard. I firmly mold my hand to the pad and wait impatiently. “ACCESS DENIED” flashes across the screen in big bold letters. “Fuck,” I growl under my breath. I walk around the room searching for something, anything, to guide me. Coming up empty-handed, and unfamiliar with everything in this room, I grit my teeth. I also know the chip is recording my anxiety, and my elevated heart rate.

I need to get Johanna home, but I have my sensor chip in place. I need to get the chip out, but I don’t have the codes. I need to get the text message to her family, but I can’t get access to the technology. Everything I need is beyond my reach, and the only thing that can save me from this situation is becoming clearer by the second.

Arden.

He’s the only person I can turn to and the only one I can trust. He may kick me out of the program for good this time, but at least I can trust him to help me get Johanna home safely. And she is all that matters.

Making my way out of the Shifting Division and into the now-empty courtyard, the stress of the day is taking its toll on my state of mind. It’s late, and I haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours. Even if I were able to get her home tonight, my body wouldn’t allow it. I’m run-down mentally, and I’m physically not far behind.

I look up to the eighth floor where the window of my apartment sits. I crave her. I crave the way her eyes skirt across my face, and the look of her wild curls falling over her shoulder blades. I crave her lips against mine. She’s beautiful and strong. And she’s a fleeting possession. Once I tell Arden about what I’ve done and ask for his help, I’ll never see her again.

Pushing through the doors of housing, I force my feet to move down the hallways, and into the elevator. Once I’m on the eighth floor, I find myself in a slow jog to get to her. I’m relieved to see my door still closed. I give three light knocks. “It’s me, Traveler.” Within seconds it opens, she wraps her arms around my waist, and places her head against my chest. I walk her backward into my room and reach behind me, securing the lock.

I slide my hands under her jaw and tilt her head up, passionately taking her mouth with mine. Her arms are hooked around me, and the feel of her hands sliding up my T-shirt encourages a sound of pleasure to escape my lips. Her fingertips are exploring my back. I sprinkle light kisses from her chin, up to her lips, across her nose and forehead, and she lets out a sigh.

“It’s good to be missed. It’s also good you didn’t jump ship. I wasn’t sure you would be here after processing everything alone in my room.”

“I don’t exactly have anywhere to go.”

I smile briefly before remembering I have bad news. “We have a problem, Johanna.” Her easygoing expression fades, and worry blankets her face. “I can’t find what I need to send a text to MB. There’s too much security. I also can’t take you back when I have this chip in place.” I turn to show her. She runs her warm hands over my neck. “I don’t know what to do…other than get help.”

“Traveler, I don’t want you to get into trouble. This is your life and your career.” She shakes her head quickly.

“Things change,” I say with a bit of humor.

“There isn’t any other way?” She glances out the window, then back to me, already knowing the answer.

“Arden will help us. He knows the ins and outs of the whole Division. He is our best chance of getting you back home.” I’m trying to sound hopeful.

She looks around the room, obviously contemplating something and formulating her own plan. “Okay. I trust you. But not tonight. I’m a grown woman, and if my brother chooses to lose his ever-loving mind over me being gone for one night, then so be it. He won’t notice until the morning anyway, and I might slip in beforehand. The Great Outdoors is closed on Sundays, so no one expects me there. Maybe in the morning things will look clearer?”

“You want to stay tonight?” After everything she’s learned, after everything she knows, she is trusting me. I sense she wants to be here with me, and nothing in me wants to say goodbye to her sooner than I have to.

“You look like the walking dead. If I’m trusting you to get me back in one piece, I would prefer it be done after a good night’s sleep,” she says matter-of-factly, walking into the bathroom with the clothes I handed her earlier. The door closes, and she continues talking to me from the other side. “I could use a snack, though. I’m starving.”

I can’t help but shake my head at her resiliency. “I have some stuff here in the cabinets, but nothing fancy.” I open the doors, pulling out a jar of peanut butter and some sliced bread.

She comes out of the bathroom in my T-shirt and boxers, and it takes everything in me not to pull her across the room and run my mouth down her neck. She’s putting her faith in me, and I want her to be confident in that decision. I don’t want to do anything that might make her regret me in any way. I can practice restraint.

“You mean to tell me after three hundred and fifty years of innovation, humanity still hasn’t gotten over a good old-fashioned peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” I watch as she crosses the room and sits Indian-style at the end of my bed.

“What’s jelly?” I deadpan.

She opens her mouth in shock seconds before I open the fridge and pull out a container of squeezable grape jelly, tossing her a wink.

I slap the sandwiches together and grab a couple of bottles of water before joining her at the end of my bed. “Sorry, this will have to do for tonight.” I look up to see her sink her teeth into the meal.

“Starved,” she admits, after swallowing a bite. I can’t help the laugh that comes out, and she returns it with a smile.

“What happened to your hand?” She stares at my skinned and bruised knuckles. I had already forgotten about them.

“I was frustrated with myself and took it out on the elevator.” My eyes float toward the door, making sure it is locked.

“Yikes. Hurt?” she asks, grimacing a little, like I deserve to be in pain for doing something as stupid as punching a metal wall.

“Yep.” I shrug as she raises her eyebrows at me.

She looks at me, deciding if she wants to ask me something or not, and then I see resolve in her expression, and she goes for it. “So…what exactly happens during…,” she trails off and flutters her hands around in the air, “when you…shift?”

I promised her honesty. “My chamber strengthens my particles and then they disintegrate, sort of, through time and manifest back into whatever time period is calculated into the chamber. My particles stay stronger far longer than anyone else’s. They’ve never retreated back to their original state. I don’t know why. I don’t need the chamber to even bring me back. I can just…make it happen. Or lose control.” I roll my eyes at myself. “I shouldn’t be able to shift with you. That’s Herding. That takes an immense amount of training, concentration, and technology that I didn’t have when I kissed you. Yet here you are, and it was dangerous.” I shake my head, and she places her hand over mine.

“I disintegrated,” she says, nodding her head slowly up and down. “How ’bout that.” She pauses to think about it. “Is it that much different? The two worlds we live in?”

“Not as much as you would think. The geography has changed quite a bit.” I glance up and catch a perplexed expression on her face. Now isn’t the time for me to go into that. “But overall not much else has changed. Human knowledge and capabilities have been advanced through the science of atom and particle alterations. Quantum Physics and Entanglement. Because of this, there have been a lot of lifestyle changes within the human race. A lot of priority shifts. A lot of new and different career opportunities. But we aren’t on a floating city in the clouds if that’s what you mean.”

“Why is this place called Andromeda, Colorado?” I can see the wheels turning in her brain as she starts to quiz me. She brings the bottle of water to her lips, waiting for an answer.

“It was renamed after The Occurrence happened.” I swore to her no more lies, but The Occurrence and all it entails would be too much for anyone from the past to hear about. And she’s had enough for one day.

“And what’s The Occurrence?” She looks at me curiously.

I wince, reaching across the bed to wipe a drop of jelly that has escaped onto her lip. Her eyes never leave mine. The urge I have to lean her back on the bed and kiss her is also too much to handle. I blink back the thought from my mind.

“I know you have a lot of questions. I want to tell you everything, but not tonight. I’ve never wanted to share things with someone, and it takes me off guard.” Pausing, I clear my throat. “I’ve never needed anyone. I’ve never wanted anyone. I certainly don’t confide in anyone. But I want you…” I admit quietly, yet unashamed. If this is it, and it’s the last time I have with her, I want her to know how I feel. How much gratitude I have toward her understanding.

She places our plates on the floor beside the bed and crawls toward the pillows, throwing the blankets back and patting the bed beside her. I lie down next to her, she puts her head on my chest, settling into me. I pull her closer and wrap my hand in her hair and my arm across her body.

“I think I need you, too,” she whispers. Her breathing becomes slow and steady. And her body relaxes as she drifts off to sleep. I look out the window beside my bed and stare into the stars. I don’t want this night to end. When the morning sun takes her place in the sky, it will all be over. I will have to give up the only thing that I might care about anymore. I close my eyes and fall asleep, hoping and conspiring to find another way to keep her in my life.