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I reach out my hand and offer it to him and he just looks at me. “You don’t get it. I will kill you. Put the pill away. I came here to make sure that you got back safe. I’m not going to be the reason you don’t.”
“But those two things can’t coexist. You can’t say you’ve got my back when I have to worry that you might stab me there. And I need your help if we’re going to find Ezra and get back home. So shut up and listen: You’re not going to kill me and I am never going to fight back. Ever. I will keep my uniform and armor on and curl up into a defensive position if I have to, but I will never hurt you again.”
Levi leaps up. It’s his turn to be mad. This is the Levi I recognize. “No. End of discussion.”
“Screw that! This isn’t a decision you just get to make. This is my life, too. Take it!” I say in a voice one decibel away from a shout, but anger isn’t the way. I have to learn, right now, not to be combative with Levi, which feels impossible but I have to try. I relax my posture. I lower my voice and cock my head to one side. Anger won’t work, but something else … “You are a lot of things, Levi, but I never took you for a coward.”
“I’m not a pussy, Ryn, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”
“You know, I don’t really like that word in this context. It makes me feel all feminist-y, which we could talk about. At length. Orrrrr you could just take the pill.”
Maddeningly, he ignores my attempt to lighten the mood. He just shakes his head, like a child refusing to take a bite of food. “I thought the pills would make it easier. Now that I see they don’t, we have to stop.”
I put my hand out again. Stay calm, stay calm. “Oh my God, you are a child! Did you really think this was going to be done in fifteen minutes? The pills work. You just have to let them. Right now your brain is making it impossible. You may trust me, but you don’t trust yourself. You have to let go of your guilt. You didn’t choose to be this way. This isn’t the real you. Come on. Let’s do this. Let’s trust each other.”
Levi glares at me.
I smile. “Come on.”
He rolls his eyes but actually laughs as he swipes the pill from my palm and pops it in his mouth. He takes a swig of water from his canteen.
“You’re crazy.”
“Yeah,” I answer sarcastically. “The awesome kind of crazy that they make movies about.”
“And modest. Clearly,” he says with a straight face. I raise an eyebrow and shrug.
Levi walks to pick up his tablet and then comes and sits down beside me. We wait in silence for the drug to kick in, the white sand surrounding us like outstretched arms. I’ve never been on a tropical vacation. Once a year I go with my family to Europe to visit my grandparents in Sweden. From there we’ve traveled to England and France. We went to Disneyland a couple of times, but nowhere like this. I’ve never been anywhere this remote, with actual palm trees and burnt-orange sunsets. This must be like Fiji on our Earth, or maybe Tahiti. Though, for all I know we could be in Battle Ground. This might be the only land mass for miles. I haven’t even seen a bird and that’s never a good sign.
When enough time has passed I look at Levi. “Ready?” I ask.
“As I’m ever going to be.” He reaches toward his tablet and I take it gently from his hands.
“I’m going to sing it. Just like your mom did to you. I’m not, like, a terrible singer, but I’m not exactly very good, either,” I warn.
“That’s probably better. I think it would actually irritate me if on top of everything you were a great singer, too.” He smiles. That is a major compliment coming from him, and I can’t help but flush a little bit at the implications of “on top of everything.” Clearing my throat as much to do something as to warm up, I bring up the lyrics.
I begin to sing.
It’s so interesting that his mom chose this song. I get that it’s a love song, but it’s also just about two people who sometimes feel like they have only each other. I know Levi’s dad left his mom when he was pretty young. I know because his younger sister, Flora, told me before I became a Citadel. I don’t think his dad is really in the picture. I think about the burden that must place on Levi, to take care of his mom and Flora and whatever comes flying out of the Rift at the same time. It’s so much for someone so young. I don’t think he’s close to his team like I am. God. He must be so lonely.
When I finish the song, I immediately start over. To my surprise, Levi starts singing along with me. I don’t need to say anything. He’s deep in this memory, I can just tell. Very slowly, I lean closer to him. I put my head on his shoulder.
This is for Ezra. This is for Ezra. This is for Ezra …
After a few seconds he slides his hand down my arm and takes my hand. I never dared try to initiate contact with Ezra when we did this, but Levi is not Ezra, and neither am I. We’re Citadels. We take risks normal people wouldn’t. I close my eyes. I know Levi could turn any moment, but I don’t think he will, not now. He’s getting it. He feels safe and so do I. When we finish the song, Levi doesn’t let go of my hand and I don’t move. The surf breaks with a dull clap on the sand in front of us. The waves are music, too. This is working. This is going to work. I am going to deprogram Levi and he can be like any other guy. He’ll be able to make out and have sex and not hurt anyone. I open my eyes and take my head off his shoulder. I look at him and he looks back and smiles at me in a way that’s so unlike his usual predatory grins. This smile is almost tender. Pretty soon he’ll be normal.
That thought instantly fills me with a feeling I cannot figure out. It’s not dread, but it feels similar. It’s not fear so much as anxiety. I look out toward the ocean, confused. Why would the prospect of fixing Levi leave me like this? With a feeling I can’t name?
CHAPTER 7 (#ulink_70fa1f53-35e7-5f66-954d-20b099c75e99)
Each trip through the Rift is becoming easier. I explained to Levi how I managed to basically fly within its tunnel and then use the gravity and light of the approaching Earth to get my bearings and end up on my feet instead of my ass. He seemed dubious, especially with the part about us not being grappled to each other, but in the end he trusted me and we both walked out of the Rift on our feet with only minor stumbles.
The first few seconds are always the tensest. Where will we end up? In the middle of a volcano? A freeway? Someplace where a Rift will be seen as a horror and we, by default, some sort of monsters? Thankfully, we find ourselves in the middle of yet another forest and when I listen, I can hear nothing but animals scurrying, and from somewhere above, the screech of a bird in flight.
I stare at the ground and then the trees. The terrain looks to be high mountain desert, the landscape I’ve seen and loved on family trips to central Oregon. It’s rocky and barren at my feet, but then the desert disappears as my gaze lifts upward to the ponderosas. From this vantage point it is clearly the Pacific Northwest.
But there’s something off.
I mentally scan all the trees, making a slow 360-degree sweep. I take a mental picture of each one and close my eyes, calling them up in my memory. I compare them side by side. The smell is right. Ponderosas are smoke and evergreen. I walk up to one and put my hand on its large, rough bark.
“They’re too perfect, right?” I ask Levi to back up my hunch. “And the placement—it’s meant to be chaotic, but there’s a pattern to it.”
Levi squints a little and cranes his neck back and forth. “Yeah. The branches of that one,” he gestures, meaning the one I’ve touched, “and the one eighteen feet away are almost identical except for two variables. That doesn’t happen in nature.”
“So, it’s man-made and the trees must have been cloned. What kind of an Earth is that, you think?” I ask him.
“I don’t know, but you must have clocked those buildings about six klicks away. We should go and check it out.”
Before I can answer we hear a noise, a buzzing, getting closer. Without saying anything further, we both grab our rifles and unclip them from our chest pads. We don’t have to wait long to see the source of the sound. It’s a drone, although it’s not like any drone I’ve ever seen. It’s a silver disk that’s just hovering with no discernable way of actually flying. I stare at it, almost transfixed. It gets closer, and then light pours out of a thin circular strip in its midsection. The light races up and down our bodies in a long blue flash.
Observing is one thing, this is obviously something else. I point my rifle at it and squeeze the trigger twice. The drone stops and drops almost immediately and I breathe out a sigh of relief.
“That was either a really good idea or a really bad one,” I say before Levi can, because I know he’ll have a choice comment.
“I vote good one. That thing was scanning us.” I side-eye him because I think he just lobbed me a compliment. Levi walks over to the downed object and bends forward to have a better look.
“Don’t touch it, even with your foot,” I warn.
“Yeah, okay, Mom, are you sure? Because weird alien hovering silver disks that scan people never explode.”
“Noted. Thank you, Levi.” I leave him be for a couple of minutes. It’s not like I couldn’t make useful observations, but I’ve already annoyed him with my previous—and admittedly unnecessary—comments, and besides, my skill set in that area leans more toward noticing the tree thing. Levi’s mind is more mechanical. Which, if I’m being honest, kind of pisses me off a little bit because it feels so typically gender biased. Citadels don’t do gender bias. Except, it seems, in this case. Right here.
Annoying.
Levi straightens and walks back over to me, but before he can say anything we both hear another noise and this one is much louder. It is the sound of helicopter blades slicing through air.
“That came out of nowhere,” I say, taking hold of my rifle yet again. My pulse quickens. “It’s almost on top of us, so where the hell did it come from?” We both look up to the sky and sure enough, it’s a chopper. It is moving with alarming speed, and at two hundred yards away, it’s closing in fast. I can see its sleek design—black chrome and streamlined, with none of the bulky aerodynamics of helicopters on our Earth.
“We’re on a future Earth. A time line way more advanced than ours. We must be.” Although I don’t know why I bother to say it. Levi has eyes. I suppose saying it out loud makes it more real somehow, because right now I feel like we’re in a movie.
“We could run,” Levi suggests.
“No. Why waste the energy? If we’re going to have to fight, we’ll need it.” So both of us just stand there unmoving as the helicopter approaches. It’s noisy, but it’s not overwhelmingly loud. In a way, the propellers are almost soothing. They whoosh in the cloudless sky in precise measures. When the chopper is about fifty feet above us, the door slides open and two men emerge. They don’t jump, but rather float down gracefully as if being lowered by cables. Except there are no cables, and no pilot, either.
I just look at them and stare because, holy fuck, I literally don’t know what else to do. I look at Levi, and he’s just as dumbstruck. Finally, I have to say something.
“Did Jason Momoa and Andy Warhol just fly down from up there?”
“I feel like yes, that is what happened. Unless we’re being drugged or that drone thing brainwashed us.”
When the two men are about twenty feet away, I put my rifle up. “Stay where you are. Do. Not. Move,” I yell. They both stop and look at us, puzzled. As if the way they arrived was totally normal and why are we surprised.
“Hello!” Jason Momoa says enthusiastically (which already seems not very Jason Momoa–like, though I don’t know him personally, obviously). “You are humans, yes?”
“We will not harm you,” Andy Warhol says brightly. “We were alerted to your presence and were sent to retrieve you.” They both take a step forward.
“I said don’t move, and keep your hands up!”
More bewilderment, although they don’t come any closer. Eventually they both raise their hands. “We do not possess any weapons. We are no threat to you,” Jason Momoa says earnestly.
“Fine. You can come closer, but stop when we tell you, and walk slowly,” I command. When they are about ten feet away I tell them to halt. “I’m going to frisk them. Cover me.”
“Really? You’re going to go frisk Aquaman? That’s going to be your job?” Levi throws out.
“Not now, Levi. God.” There’s a time and place for sarcasm, but this is not it. I quickly move over to the two and I am able to get a good look at them close-up. If I needed any more proof that something absolutely bonkers is going on here, I get it after I see their silver eyes. They are as round and luminous as full moons, but the irises are a darker silver, the color of bracelets or rings left forgotten in a drawer. On Andy Warhol it looks creepy as fuck. On Jason Momoa it’s kinda sexy in an otherworldly way. Both have hair cut close to their scalps and they are wearing matching slate-gray outfits, though uniform is a bit of a stretch. They are dressed the same, but there is no ornamentation, not even buttons. Just plain jackets over trousers. Even with all that, though, it’s their skin that really gives me pause. It doesn’t look right. It is without blemish or lines, fine or otherwise. It’s as if a newborn baby morphed into an adult. I’m not sure yet what these people are, but this is definitely not an Earth like ours—not an echo Earth.
My rifle is clipped, which leaves me with both hands free to pat them down. I do this efficiently and without lingering, even on Khal Drogo.
“My name is Thunder,” he says kindly.
“Really?” I say, even though of course it is.
“And this is my colleague Ragweed.”
“Hello,” Andy/Ragweed offers. Okay, the names are weird (and more than a little unfair).
“They aren’t armed, Levi, you can put your gun down.” Levi slowly lowers his weapon and moves with steely determination toward us. As he approaches, I know he is noticing the same exact things that I did. It’s clear that he feels threatened. I do, too, but I can hide these things better. His posture is yardstick straight and he’s clenching his jaw.
“I’m Ryn and this is Levi. Where are we?” I ask with determination.
“North 44°3′29″, West 121°18′51″,” Ragweed answers efficiently. I don’t even need to check in with my partner. We are both well aware that these are the coordinates of central Oregon. Just as we thought. Still, latitude and longitude are not as helpful as an actual city name.
“What year is it?” I ask a little more impatiently.
“I am afraid I cannot answer that question. We do not keep time in the same way that I think you probably do,” Ragweed offers regretfully.
“Yeah, well,” Levi says while resting his forearm on the butt of his rifle, “maybe you should just give it a try anyway. Let us be the judge of what we can and cannot figure out.”
Both men look past us, in the distance. I have a feeling that their eyes are providing some kind of digital interface. More than likely, we are all being monitored and they are awaiting instructions.
Finally Thunder says, gently, “I am sure you have many questions. We cannot provide you with the answers you are looking for. We have been designated to deliver you to our doyenne, who will be able to discuss your questions in detail. We are simply escorts.”
I nod my head and look to the ground as a wave of nausea washes over me. I’ve heard this speech before because I’ve made it. It’s the same speech I give to all the Immigrants who came through the Rift at Battle Ground, and I doubt these two would give up any more information than I would. However, they are decidedly less aggressive than the Citadels are, and if there is some kind of equivalent of a Village on this Earth, chances are that’s where Ezra would be. There’s also no chance in hell that a place like the Village could hold me and Levi. Still, going with them is a risk—I’m not sure we could elude them and get our packs and the QOINS up and running without incident. Just because they don’t have weapons doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous.
“And you guys just fly around, hoping to run into someone? Escorting people places?” Levi asks stubbornly. They aren’t going to give us anything useful.
“Yes, I can see why you would think we have the ability to fly. I assure you that we do not. It is technology, built into our boots, using a combination of the planet’s magnetic core and micro thrusters,” Ragweed offers, but why? Why is that information something he’s willing to give up, unless …?
“You want to take us up there? With your shoes?” It’s an amusing thought, but I am not amused.
“You will agree to come with us now?” Thunder asks brightly. I don’t think I actually agreed to anything, but he is certainly hopeful.
Levi must see me mulling and he leans in closer, not near enough to actually touch me, but close enough so that he can speak almost in a whisper that they hopefully can’t hear. “They seem pretty harmless, and if you want to know if Ezra is here, then I think we have to go with them. We just have to demand that we stay together and we get to keep our things with us at all times so we can Rift out if we need to.”
“To be clear: You do understand that it’s Jason Momoa and Andy Warhol with silver eyes offering to take us in their Blade Runner helicopter, right? Because I’m still coming to grips with that, and there is no scenario we thought of that included anything like this in our strategic planning sessions,” I add, concealing at least half of my mouth with a well-timed itch to my top lip.
I can practically hear his eyes rolling. “Yes, I understand that we are in the Multiverse. And yes, this is batshit crazy, but it’s the Wild West out here, so what else do you want to do?”
“Fine,” I say to everyone. “We will go on the condition that we will not be separated from our things or each other.” I watch as they pause. It definitely seems like they are getting information visually from the implants that are their eyes. I think I might be way more freaked out by this if I had never watched Black Mirror. “Oh, and no flying. Send down a rope or something. You must have a backup in case your rocket boots don’t work.”
Ragweed grabs hold of my arm. “Excellent. We will now escort you to the doyenne.”
I give him a stern, unflinching look. “Take your hands off me. Now.”
Ragweed does not remove his hand. I look at Levi, who has backed away from Thunder. His look is a clear warning. “We must escort you to the doyenne safely,” Ragweed tells me, undeterred.
“Yes. But. Do. Not. Touch. Me,” I growl.
“We must escort you to the doyenne safely.”
“Remove your hand or I will escort my fist into your throat.”
Ragweed seems not to hear me, or not understand. He simply holds on tighter, attempting now to pull me toward the chopper. “We must esc—” But I don’t let him finish the sentence. I’ve set a boundary, a rule. I asked, maybe not so nicely, but a girl shouldn’t have to be polite when asking a man not to touch her. I yank my arm away from him and pick him up by the throat. His body lifts up into the air and his feet are off the ground. Ragweed has that faraway look in his eyes. He is not struggling. His body has gone slack.
I exhale loudly and pitch him up and out, tossing him in the air. He lands with a dull thud, his head hitting a tree trunk.
Oh shit—did I just kill him?
His eyes are still open, but he isn’t moving, never a good sign. I spin on my heels toward Thunder and Levi. This whole situation is tense as fuck. Why wouldn’t he just do as I asked?
“I don’t know what ‘escort’ means here,” I say to Thunder, “but where we come from it implies a certain amount of protocol. All he had to do was direct me, verbally. I know I look young, but I can follow directions. Apparently your buddy over there can’t. I won’t be held responsible for actions I take when I feel threatened.”
Levi’s stance has gotten wider. His chest is thrust forward slightly. If Thunder isn’t a complete moron he’ll notice this and not try anything. There is an awkward, almost painful silence as Thunder looks at his fallen colleague and then out past him above the tree line.
“Yes. I understand. Another team will come and retrieve Ragweed. I will escort you safely to the doyenne without physical contact. Cable. Harness.” Given these people’s weird names, I hope he’s asking for what I think he is and not sending more “escorts” down. Still, who is he talking to? I don’t see any kind of comm system. I frisked the guy and he has nothing on him, not even an earpiece.
In three seconds I’m relieved to see a pulley being sent down from the chopper. Still, I find it odd that Thunder has not gone over to Ragweed to make sure he’s okay. I have my back turned to him because, quite frankly, I don’t want to know. I have no idea how they do things here. That might be normal. I’m beginning to wonder if these people, like the trees around us, are clones. It would be a logical reason as to why Thunder isn’t more concerned about Ragweed’s safety. Still, you can’t know what you don’t know and my hope is that my explanation, my very clear vocalization that I felt threatened, will be enough for what just went down.
We make our way to right below the hovering aircraft and its muffled blades. “I’m going first,” Levi tells me. It’s not a suggestion. I put both my hands up in surrender. Thunder is keeping a respectful distance. The device they sent down looks a little like a swing with a crisscross seat belt that you step into. Levi figures it out quickly enough and secures himself in with the carabiner they’ve provided. He holds on to the cables on the side, and once he does Thunder says, “Retract,” and the seat shoots up with alarming speed.
In short order it’s my turn. I get myself in and braced for the ride. This time, when Thunder gives the verbal command, he follows me up in the air with the same impressive speed.
Once I climb into the helicopter I see that it is compact, but there’s enough room for at least six people to sit comfortably on two padded benches. There is no cockpit or jump seat. There isn’t room for a pilot at all. The whole thing is automated. I feel like that’s cool as much as it is terrifying. The doors are mostly windows, so as we begin to ascend and veer off I get a better view of the trees and their odd layout from this vantage point, meant to look wild but really spaced in a sequential pattern, which is easy to discern when you know what you’re looking for.
I don’t get much of a look, though, because this helicopter is fast. And not just regular fast but, like, bullet train in Japan–style fast. The landscape below me becomes a blur, but it only lasts a couple of minutes. The chopper slows as we approach the city. I peer down and look at the entire scope of this place. Everything is gray and green, like a giant stone sundial covered in moss. There are tall high-rises ringing smaller buildings, though not many roads. The few streets branch out like perfectly proportioned sunrays. We are clearly headed to the center of this circle, an impressively large building with a solar-paneled roof in the shape of two giant butterfly wings. The building is concrete, as it seems the other structures in this city are as well, but there is fluidity to it, an odd sense of motion to the heavy architecture.
The helicopter touches down softly and without so much as a bump. The landing pad is a raised cement platform in the middle of a large expanse of grass. This grass, like the ponderosas, is too green, too perfectly mowed. It almost looks like carpeting. The doors open and Thunder solicitously waits behind as Levi and I exit. I see there is a stretch of concrete leading from here to the building.
