Skyline Page 4

  “Charlotte?” Suddenly, Monroe was before her, Bill at her side.

  “They’ll be okay, right?” she asked Bill.

  He stepped forward. “If Heisenberg’s right”—he grimaced—“nothing’s certain, Charlotte. Everything could change.”

  “But Leanor …” That was a change that had happened. A change she had to set right. “Come on,” she said. “I need to see what happened. I need to learn my own history.”

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Charlotte’s key to the laboratory’s antechamber still worked. Her code to the laboratory itself still unlocked with three quick beeps. The second door opened with the slight squeak it always had. But when the lights flickered on, everything was changed.

  Gone were the metal tables, the messy piles of information and prototypes, the historical astrolabes that Leanor had purchased for inspiration. Instead, one wall was lined with a series of filing cabinets. Another had glass shelves filled with dozens of what had to be Charlotte’s earliest attempts. In the center of the room lay a massive oak table. Couches sat in one corner, beside a TV, a bright blue bookshelf, and a small plastic table covered in Charlie’s omnipresent drawings.

  Charlotte stepped through the space, touching each difference. The table. The cabinets. The couch that almost had the indentation of Charlie’s little butt. With her eyes squeezed shut, she tried to remember what had been here. Why hadn’t she made a special space for Charlie? Maybe she’d been a better mother here, despite Felix’s opinion.

  Or maybe she’d had better intentions.

  At the filing cabinets, Charlotte pulled out a binder and found pages detailing GPS positioning. How it worked, how it could be smaller, how it could be attached to the star locators. All in her handwriting without a single notation from Leanor. Gulping down bile, she dropped the book. Pulled out another.

  This one had hundreds of star charts through time, with various notes about how stars moved, how the planets adjusted. Still in her handwriting. Still nothing from Leanor. She dropped that binder too, frantically paging through another and another and another.

  Everything Felix had said was confirmed.

  Monroe and Bill stood frozen in the middle of the room, eyebrows raised as they whispered to each other.

  “She’s really gone, ’Roe,” she said, hands shaking as she crossed to show him the latest binder. “I thought—I hoped that Felix was wrong. That whatever had changed was smaller. Maybe Leanor was still working with me, but advised me not to tell anyone. But he was right. She never existed.”

  Monroe bit his lip. “He said she was your benefactor.”

  “But not here, ’Roe!” She breathed, trying not to freak out. This was worse than a sudden shift through time. This was a shift through worlds. With no way back. “She was never here.” She asked Bill, “Do you know what happened? How could Leanor disappear when all we did was meet another time traveler?”

  “‘Them,’” Monroe whispered.

  Bill frowned, not quite as disturbed as Monroe’s wide eyes suggested. But then, he’d never been in this lab—Leanor’s lab—before. “You said you traveled a lot. And nothing like this ever happened? No random changes that you didn’t remember?”

  Monroe muttered under his breath, “No massive changes you didn’t remember?”

  “Nothing. Nothing,” Charlotte stressed. “You have to believe me.”

  Chewing on his lip, Bill admitted, “This is what I was afraid of.”

  “And yet,” Monroe pointed out, “you wanted to stop 9/11. Right?”

  “Time is malleable,” Bill said, his voice building. “Doesn’t this prove that? That anachronistic woman was right. It’s like a mountain, not some taut rope about to snap. But that means we have to be careful. We can make changes if we’re careful.”

  Charlotte shook her head, tasting bile. “But look what happens! We didn’t even make a change. We spoke to someone, another time traveler, and this happened.”

  “Then that’s how,” Bill said, spreading his hands. “She must’ve done this. Somehow, warning us off wasn’t enough. She found out about us, and tried stopping the astrolabe’s construction at its source. Leanor.”

  The woman must’ve done something worse than “stopping the astrolabe’s construction” for Leanor not to be here now. “How?”

  With a gulp, Monroe reminded her, “You said Leanor’s name, Char.”

  Exhaling, Charlotte massaged her temple. She had. This was her fault.

  “I want to see it,” Charlotte said, reaching into her bag. “I don’t care if it’s a bad idea. I don’t care about ripples or butterflies.” And Felix and Charlie? a voice inside asked. They’d be okay. They’d have to be. “There’s only one way that I could have this exact lab, still. Leanor must have still rented it out, then given it to me after our interview.”

  She dialed back the astrolabe to the date Leanor had often spoken about—a week before Charlotte started. “You coming?” she asked when the men hadn’t moved toward her.

  The shared a glance, then touched her. She released her grip on the astrolabe.

  The lights in the laboratory flickered on and off, faster and faster, as Charlotte worked in reverse, until everything was a dull blur. Prototypes disappeared from the glass shelves. Then the shelves themselves, the cabinets, and Charlie’s nook moved out. The last to go was the oak table. When time slowed, the lab was pitch-black.

  A harsh, low voice boomed through the empty lab. “Should’ve told your lackeys to be more careful.”

  Something thudded against the wall, accompanied by a shriek.

  “Leanor?” Charlotte asked. She couldn’t see anything.

  “And look who’s come to join us, right on time.”

  She heard Monroe sprint away from the voices, back to the entrance. The lights illuminated, and Charlotte saw Leanor pressed up against the wall. A hulking dark-skinned blue-haired man had Leanor’s head in his hands. A bloody spatter dripped on the wall behind Leanor’s white hair.

  “Charlotte?” Leanor asked, her pale eyes drifting sideways as her head tipped. “Run.”

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  If this man had been the first time traveler Charlotte had met, maybe she would’ve taken Leanor’s advice. Sprinted away, gotten her bearings, figured out what the hell was going on and how to help. But a changed world had prepared her for the worst. Had coiled her tight as a spring.

  Charlotte sprang forward, fists clenched and ready.

  “You’re running the wrong way,” the man said, then stepped back and backhanded Charlotte’s face. Red blossomed in her vision as she went careening to the floor, smashing against the tile. As she slid across the ground, a single thought entered her mind. Thank God Charlie didn’t come.

  Monroe shouted; Bill grunted; and the man said, “Not quite as alone as I’d hoped.”

  There was a slight breeze, sucking back toward where the man was, and then silence.

  When Charlotte peeled herself from the floor, she saw Bill nearby, arms ready. Monroe remained beside the light switch. Leanor and the man were gone. “Where?”

  “Through time,” Bill said. “That guy had an astrolabe, just like the woman at the World Trade Center.”

  “Which cinches it, right?” Monroe said as he approached. “They’re together. Working against Leanor for some reason.”

  All of that they could figure out later. What mattered now was Leanor. “Where did he take her? Where would he take her?” She surveyed Monroe, then Bill. Monroe simply shrugged; Bill opened his hands in apology. That man had been right there. “Dammit. If only you’d grabbed him.”

  But she could.

  In an instant, the astrolabe was in Charlotte’s hands, and she spun herself back. Only a minute would do it. While she was racing forward, while he was preparing his backhand, she’d appear. Grab him before he could go. She released, and got a single glance at Monroe’s and Bill’s confused faces before time rewound for the
past minute. Bill’s clenched fist swung and hit air, and then he stepped back. Monroe cowered by the door. Charlotte’s past self sprang from the floor, into the man’s backhand.

  Time restarted, and the man’s backhand flinched, paused. He was staring directly at her. Not her past self. Her.

  “You won’t get away that easily,” she said, even though he hadn’t tried yet. He hadn’t used his own device yet; her presence had changed that.

  Neck still clutched between the man’s fingers, Leanor moaned, “Charlotte, no.”

  Before Charlotte could ask why, she learned. Blood pumped through her brain, throbbing like a spike being pounded in. “Agh!” she yelled, clutching her head and crumpling to the ground. Her mind struggled, because in Charlotte’s memory Leanor hadn’t said, “Charlotte, no.” The man had vanished. That was what she came to stop, but with every moment, every flicker of her vision, the headache renewed. Time was changing in front of her eyes, and her mind couldn’t take it. As if someone were updating her memory with a hammer.

  If she squeezed her eyes shut, it helped. Not seeing the changed timeline helped. But every moment she was there, she heard words that no one had said. A grunt from the man who’d taken—would take—Leanor. A murmur between Monroe and Bill. Every little difference sent pain rippling through her mind. She’d have to get out of here, jump away, but she could barely focus on anything but what the past had been, and how it wasn’t that anymore.

  Then Monroe’s voice, explaining, “Char, you can’t be here.”

  “You can’t cross your timeline,” came Bill’s voice.

  “So?” Her voice, from across the room.

  Charlotte plugged her ears, the pounding in her head lessening as she blocked their voices out.

  And then relief. She felt the air pulse away as her previous self must’ve vanished. Matching up with her memory of this moment. When Charlotte’s eyes flickered open again, the man was gone with Leanor. It hurt that she’d failed, but at least the headache was decreasing.

  Better still was that her brain hadn’t burst.

  “Char?” Monroe crouched beside her. “You okay? What happened?”

  Bill’s shadow stepped next to Monroe. Charlotte’s vision kept blurring. “Pretty much everyone agrees: time travelers should never, ever cross their own path. Because of—I guess—that.”

  “But you’re safe now?” Monroe asked, his hand on her arm. “You’re okay?”

  Charlotte gulped, wetted the roof of her mouth, and took one last long blink. “I’m okay.” She exhaled. She was okay now. “My memory, my brain couldn’t handle all the differences. Everything you said, everything my past self did hurt until it was corrected. Back to what I remembered happening.”

  “And what happened?” Monroe asked.

  Her vision clarified. “You don’t remember? I jumped away and …”

  “That was our future,” Bill said. “But when you jumped back, that future never happened.”

  “So you don’t remember?”

  “Not at all,” Monroe said. “But you’re safe.” Charlotte let him help her up.

  “But Leanor’s gone.” Again.

  “And we can’t go back,” Bill said. “Now we know we can’t cross our timelines.”

  Monroe’s jaw tensed as he stared at her. Then his vision slid through her, his gaze not on anything in this room. History was his specialty; maybe he’d have an idea where the man would go.

  Bill’s eyes lit up. “What about Felix?”

  Charlotte tilted her head. It was a mercy he wasn’t here.

  “We can’t cross our own paths, can’t interact. But if we asked someone else? Felix could come, fight the guy, prepared with all of our knowledge. Change what just happened.”

  The idea made her heart drum. It could work. Then none of them would have to endure the memory rewrite. But Felix … “I don’t know how I could convince him. I don’t even know how much good he’d be.” He’d been so furious with her. How could Charlotte possibly turn him around, show him time travel, and prepare him without forgetting where that horrible blue-haired man stood when he disappeared with Leanor? Never mind the fact that Felix wasn’t fast on his feet. Like Monroe, he preferred thinking to action.

  “You had a few seconds.” Monroe’s voice was soft; he was talking to himself. His gaze focused on Charlotte. “You had a few seconds,” he said louder. “You said a few words, right? Before the headache or whatever started?”

  “Yeah.” Why did that matter?

  “Then I have a bit of a sketchy idea, but it could work. We’d just have to time it right.”

  Charlotte could take care of the timing. She’d had plenty of practice with the astrolabe over the past year. “Tell me.”

  Monroe explained his idea and, after a glance at each other, Bill nodded. There weren’t many other options; the man could be anywhere. Reenacting Charlotte’s earlier steps, but in a smarter way, was their only choice. They positioned themselves around where Leanor and the man had vanished, and Charlotte spun the lights.

  She was a bit out of it at the time, dealing with the rewrite, but it couldn’t have been long after her last jump that the man disappeared. “I think this is right,” she said. “Ready?”

  The men nodded, and Charlotte let go, taking them a few minutes into the past.

  When time slowed, there were three Charlottes, two Monroes, and two Bills in one room. But before the headache came, Charlotte snatched a hand out to grab the man’s pants. In her periphery, Monroe and Bill did the same.

  As before, her memory couldn’t take it. No one had grabbed the man’s pants. Once, only five people had been in the room. Now there were too many. But she clenched her eyes closed. Tried not to think about the change. If she focused only on her hand, on the starchy black pants of this man, she would be okay.

  And at last, relief. The man must’ve leaped through time, not realizing they were attached.

  They landed in a forest of prehistory, and the man kicked her away, pain rippling up her side. “Idiots.”

  Instead of taking him on, Charlotte pressed her eyes closed. Concentrated on getting back into the present. She didn’t want to rush in as she had before. The headache had to clear before she could do anything.

  “Now to deal with you,” came the man’s voice. “Time for you to get what you deserve.”

  Charlotte’s eyes fluttered open, and she saw the man dragging Leanor away toward a tree. Bill was up, but wobbling, shaking his head. Charlotte stood, trying to regain her balance, trying to be present. “Let her go!” she said, her voice not quite ready to shout.

  Slam went Leanor’s head against the tree trunk, and she screamed again.

  “Leanor!” Charlotte said. She didn’t have time to recover. She stumbled over, blinking, trying not to hit any of the sudden roots amidst the forest ground.

  “We never should’ve left you to your own devices,” the man snarled. “But we knew, we’ve always known. You think you’re smarter than us, Leanor, but you’ve always been stupid. Weak.” He slammed her head against the tree again, and a flock of birds erupted from nearby.

  Charlotte tried jumping, tried getting closer. She had to.

  “Charlotte,” Leanor whispered, freezing Charlotte in place. The older woman shook her head as much as she could. “The Blast.”

  “Don’t say another fucking word,” the man said, his hand squeezing her throat. “And you three, don’t come any closer.”

  “Or what?” Charlotte asked, her voice tearing at her throat. “You’ll kill her?”

  “Don’t you dare,” Bill said, still wobbling to Charlotte’s left. Maybe they could do this, maybe they could surround this man.

  “Don’t,” Leanor said, but kept her eyes focused on Charlotte. In that instant, Charlotte saw how young Leanor looked. Before they’d even had a first day together. “I’m not … It’s not … Just the Blast. That woman you met. You have to stop—”

  “Shut up, I said!” The man slammed Leanor’s head agains
t the tree again. Charlotte raced over, grabbed at his arm, but he kept slamming, again and again. He didn’t seem to even feel Charlotte tugging. She could barely see through her tears when he finally stopped. Warm spots covered Charlotte’s hand, arm, and face.

  She shook with horror, but kept her grip on his arm, tugging him though Leanor slumped between his hands.

  Leanor dropped to the ground when he released her and shoved Charlotte back. “Let that be a warning,” he said. “Don’t fuck with time.” He lofted the time-travel device he held—his not quite like the anachronistic woman’s. This was composed of several metal plates tied together haphazardly with wire. With a gesture, he vanished.

  “Leanor?” Charlotte crouched to her friend.

  She felt Monroe and Bill beside her, but she didn’t turn. None of them had been able to prevent this. Charlotte slid to her knees, pulling Leanor into her lap. Bill pressed at Leanor’s wrist, but it didn’t matter. They could all see what had happened. Her usually white hair was a matted, bloody mess. Her empty eyes reflected the leafy canopy, her mouth lolling open.

  Leanor was gone.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE BLAST

  MARCH 16, 1227

  For the first year Charlotte worked with Leanor, they barely spoke. Leanor had tasked Charlotte with recreating all of her earlier inventions, but better. She wanted to see how Charlotte worked, and would only come by to inspect, to comment, to judge.

  The second year, Charlotte was allowed to work on the astrolabe, but only the lesser components. Touch screens, bending glass, light that shone like a pinprick ten yards away. Necessary, but nothing that allowed her to see the full picture of the astrolabe. Then Leanor suggested she attempt to fix a bug in the prototype, and Charlotte was warped back in time.

  After Leanor retrieved her, they went out for their first drink at Suni’s.

  That night, Charlotte called Felix to say she’d be home late, that they’d had a breakthrough at work. Back then, he was fine with it. The enthusiasm resounding in his deep tone, unaware of what she would put him through for the next year. Charlotte hadn’t realized it either. She was just ecstatic to learn what the astrolabe did. Better yet, Leanor’s shell had melted away.