Chapter 31

Gabi was lying there, twisted and broken. Her arm was bent back at a horrible angle, her face down in the dirt. It was every nightmare come to life. Finn rushed to her side, a guttural scream of anguish fighting its way to his lips.

Doc was immediately next to him. “Don’t move her, Finn.” His voice was shaky. “We don’t know how badly she’s injured. We need to call for help. They’ll need to stabilize her to get her off the mountain.”

Finn’s first instinct was to jump in front of Doc and protect Gabi from him. Only he had no idea how to save Gabi and Doc did.

Doc leaned in and put two fingers gently on her neck. “Her pulse is steady.” He took off his parka and placed it on top of Gabi.

Heart beating, Finn thought. Not gone. Not yet gone.

He heard Doc radioing the others in ISTA. He hated relying on this man in any way, but he was relieved that Doc could reach help. “. . . Tell them a child is seriously injured on top of Dorset Peak, needing immediate attention.”

Finn kneeled over Gabi, brushed a small leaf free from her hair. One hot tear spilled over the rim of his eye, landed on her brown hair, and glistened there, like a star in the night sky, before disappearing into the strands.

She didn’t stir.

He desperately wanted her to wake up and tell him that it wasn’t that bad. He wanted her to open her eyes and see him.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” he murmured.

Behind him, Doc said gently, “She’s had a big blow to the head, Finn.”

Finn turned to find Doc watching him, done with the radio. His face was pale and his gray hair was a mess.

“Don’t say another word to me. This is all your fault.” Finn fought the urge to attack him. Make him pay for all that had gone wrong.

“Finn, the gun wasn’t for you. Mr. Wells—he was here for Faith, to protect you from her. Aunt Billie sent us after you two—warned us Faith was coming for you, said you were in danger. We wanted to find you before she could.”

Finn again remembered Aunt Billie’s fear of him when he’d thrust his palms up toward her in the church. Her memories of raising Faith must be terrible.

“I know what you must think of me, Finn. I’m not a good man. I know what I’m capable of. I’ve had the distinct opportunity to be told what I have done in alternate timelines. Can you imagine that? Knowing that you’re capable of making terrible choices? Having the woman you love most in the world witness some of them and tell you what they were? No. You can’t imagine. You’re just a kid.”

Finn wanted to argue that he wasn’t just a kid, but Doc spoke with such despair that it didn’t seem worthwhile to split that hair.

“It was you, wasn’t it? You dove after her into the quarry that day,” Doc said.

“Yes. Are things—different? Better?”

“Better? I only see what I live. And my Beth”—he looked down at his hands—“she’s no longer here to tell me what the other possibilities are.” He brushed his eye and Finn saw his grief was real.

“You stole Faith from us.”

“I thought that I could fix what was going to happen. I thought if we just had a chance to train her—teach her how to use her immense power—if she was given the opportunity to do good, that she would become good.” He was pacing through the leaves. “Your parents, they knew that in every timeline where they raised her, she rebelled, and terrible things occurred. Beth told me. She and your mother had Traveled forward to see it.”

This was new information. Why didn’t Mom tell him there were timelines where Faith stayed with them? Timelines where she still turned out broken, evil. He suddenly remembered the photo in Dad’s office. The timestamp wasn’t from developing the film, it was made by the camera on that day. His father somehow had a relic from another timeline—a timeline where they had Faith longer.

And it still hadn’t been enough. “Faith’s ability is too much for a child,” Doc went on. “She can see even more than Beth and Liz combined. She can see and remember every human choice ever made or not made, the best and the worst of humanity. Liz and Beth knew that nodes were being closed, and while ISTA suspected the Others, your gran first suspected Faith. Your mother finally admitted to seeing it.” He rubbed his eyes, smearing dirt across his sweaty forehead. “Your parents decided not to train her at all. Your mother kept saying they could find a way to contain her.”

He stopped pacing and looked directly at Finn. “I had a different plan for Faith. I was going to give her something real to do with her talent. Give her a purpose. She could help us make things right in history. I was so sure it would work.”

Finn narrowed his eyes at Doc. “Well, it didn’t.”

“I know there is so much of the puzzle I’m missing, Finn—but you are, too. Your gran and your mother think the timeline should be left alone. We disagree. We here in Dorset, we’ve been given a gift! We are meant to change things, not just sit by and watch atrocities play out in front of our eyes.”

Finn couldn’t pretend he didn’t see the appeal. All the things he could change for himself, Gran, Mom. Why wouldn’t this be a gift they were supposed to use? They were special, chosen.

But he could hear Gabi’s voice in his head, cautioning him that it wasn’t that simple. One well-intentioned change would set off a chain reaction, with consequences no one could predict. And Mom, what did she tell him? She didn’t think they should be the sole arbiters of time.

Doc bent down next to Gabi and checked her vital signs once more.

“Is she okay?”

“The same.”

Finn searched his face for reassurance and found none. There was an uncomfortable silence as they both watched Gabi. She still didn’t stir.

“What about my dad? Where does he stand on changing the timeline?” Finn asked.

Doc looked up at him and said, “I’m not sure. I don’t think he even knows. He agrees with me that we have some sort of responsibility. But he’s clouded by his love for you—and Faith.”

“Aunt Billie, she’s been helping you, even when Gran refused.”

He looked genuinely surprised that Finn knew this. “Yes. She’s done the Traveling for me. She’s a much better Traveler than she ever let on. She even offered to raise Faith as her own, hidden in time.” Finn realized that in some other timeline, that had probably ended with Faith raising her hands to Aunt Billie—an imprint that had remained in Aunt Billie’s memory. No wonder she’d been afraid of him.

“And Aunt Ev?”

“Solidly against us. She’s a hypocrite, though, that one.” He threw his hand dismissively into the air. “Says we need to leave the timeline alone, but can’t help stealing from her travels. Tells herself it won’t make a difference.”

He looked up at Finn with glassy, tired eyes. “If you could change this, Finn. If you could make it so Gabi wasn’t lying here, you would. Wouldn’t you?”

Finn’s mind immediately jumped to yes. YES, like giant neon letters blinking in front of him. Of course he would. He’d give anything to protect Gabi. He nodded, but even as he did he could see her face earlier this morning. The sun reflecting off her shiny hair. He could hear her worried voice. “Well, we wouldn’t be who we are now, would we? I mean—it’s scary to imagine me as someone totally different.”

“Don’t you see? We’re alike,” said Doc. “ISTA has the opportunity to protect our loved ones, along with millions of others. The only thing I’ve cared about for months is saving Beth. You can’t save someone from themselves, though. She wouldn’t stop Traveling forward . . .” His voice trailed off, but Finn knew his next thought without him saying it. She wouldn’t stop trying to save Finn.

Finn fought the wave of sympathy he felt for Doc. He didn’t want to forgive him, but Doc knew what the word gone meant, too.

“Anyway, this is bigger than all of us, Finn. You’re right: my plan for Faith doesn’t seem to have worked any better than the ones your parents tried. She is never all right in any timeline. There are some people, Finn, people who can never be fixed. They need to be stopped. That’s a task that only men like myself and you are up to. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Everybody was suddenly calling him a man now. He wasn’t sure he liked what Doc meant by it.

And yet—if Faith was capable of doing horrible things, why try to save her? Why not try to fight her? Together, as a family, they could win. It sounded like a war was what Faith wanted. Why not give it to her?

Finn looked down at Gabi lying unconscious on the leaves. Yes, it seemed like a natural conclusion. The only logical conclusion for someone who, in every single timeline so far, turned into something twisted and wrong. Had anyone ever seen her turn out good? Mom couldn’t even admit to seeing it.

The only solution he could see was to kill her.

Still, forcing herself into his mind’s eye was young Faith. The one who held his hand. The one who looked back at him and understood how much he loved her. Doc was talking about ‘some people.’ That didn’t fit at all. Faith wasn’t anonymous. She was distinct, specific . . . HIS sister.

He looked at Doc and realized he would never understand. He never Traveled. Doc could only see what Faith was now. Only moments ago Finn was on the mountain with both Faiths—his tiny, trusting and scared baby sister and his broken, angry adult twin. He understood what Traveling did to you now. Faith would always be everything to him all at once. He would not, could not, separate them.

Doc was wrong.

°°°

The search and rescue people came by helicopter. They lowered a man in a small clearing farther up the trail. Finn watched as the man, vibrant in his orange-and-yellow reflective jumpsuit, descended on a cable and then disappeared behind the tree canopy. In seconds he reappeared on the trail, carrying his equipment.

He ran up to them and laid a pack at Gabi’s feet. “Are either one of you injured?”

Finn was sure he was. His wrist still hurt and when he breathed in it felt like someone was thrusting a dagger into his ribs. At least one of them must be broken.

He didn’t care. All he cared about was Gabi. Anyway, how could he explain that he’d been battered about in a timeless ether, or slammed against a tree by his evil time-traveling sister? He was still trying to find the words to explain it all to himself. He shook his head and saw Doc do the same.

“Tell me what happened.” The rescuer looked at Doc, and it became obvious to Finn that neither of them had thought of how they were going to answer that question.

Finn interjected before Doc had a chance to speak. “She climbed the tree to get a better idea of where we were and she fell.” Lying did get easier the more you did it. He realized he’d better get used to it. It was going to be a regular part of life now.

“Did you see her fall? How she landed?”

“No,” Finn answered.

The man gave Doc a questioning look. Doc shook his head. “No, I didn’t see her fall. I’m a doctor. Her airway is intact, contusions on the chest, possible pneumothorax . . .” He paused and glanced at Finn before continuing. “Stable, but GCS is 5 out of 15.”

Doc and the rescue worker exchanged a meaningful look.

“I’ll stabilize her, and we’ll need to bring her about a hundred feet south of here where there’s a clearing big enough to cable her up. I’ll need your help. Then they’ll take her down to Dartmouth, and you can head down to meet the ground team that’s on its way to meet you.”

“Wait. I can’t go with her?” Finn had thought he’d be by her side the whole time.

“No, the helicopter is only equipped to take the injured and the team.” The rescuer handed a small device to Doc. “This is a beacon to help the ground team find you.”

Minutes later, Gabi was cocooned in what looked like an orange body bag. No, Finn thought, it’s like a sleeping bag. That’s what it is.

Finn and Doc helped the rescue worker lower her down the trail. Slowly, carefully, they plodded down the same path he and Gabi had climbed. It felt like days ago now. Finn could hear the helicopter making passes over them. Finally, they came to the small clearing. The rescue worker told them to duck and take shelter as the helicopter came close. Dirt and debris began to kick up from the wind of the blades.

When Finn was able to look again, the man already had a giant cable hook in his hand and was hooking himself and Gabi to it. He was off to the side of her, on a small swing-like pedestal, as they lifted up into the air.

And then Gabi was gone.