PART TWO
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
—Lord Byron
05:01:37:14
Heat courses through my veins, my body flooding with fire, my fingertips and toes tingling with the sensation. But as soon as it starts, it’s already over, and I’m lying on my side, cold and wincing at the way my left arm and hip throb from how hard I just hit the ground.
The earth underneath me is cold, and I can smell the wet grass as if it rained recently. The air is still and unmoving, and all I can hear above me is the sound of Barclay’s breathing. The grass I’m lying in is long and overgrown; huge trees shoot up to the sky and block out the sunlight; and everything I see is green and brown.
This doesn’t look like the Prima I remember. We’re more likely in a jungle than we are in a capital city. “Where are we?”
“This is Earth 06382,” Barclay says. “It’s been uninhabited for the past two hundred years or so. Don’t worry, we’re not staying here.” He looks down at his quantum charger and begins typing things in.
I can’t help but groan a little when I stand up. If I’m going to make portaling into different worlds a habit, I really need to figure out how to land. Barclay is standing casually next to me, quantum charger in hand, so there must be a less traumatic way to do this.
I take a deep breath, and it’s like I can smell the earth. It’s that deep, woodsy smell sweetened with pollen. But there’s something not right about this place. In the distance there’s a cabin. The overgrowth has sprung up around it, and it’s slumped on its foundation. I can’t picture anyone ever living here. Not even two hundred years ago.
Because even though it’s green everywhere and I can hear the rustling of the leaves as the wind moves, there’s a creepy stillness around us.
I can’t hear anything. No birds, no animals, nothing. That’s what’s wrong with this place.
“What happened?” I ask.
Barclay looks at me, his eyebrows raised, his lips pursed together. It’s an expression that says, You don’t really want to know.
“No explanation, that’s shocking.” He should know by now how much I hate secrets.
He sighs. “They were actually the first world, we think, to discover interverse travel. We’re not exactly sure what happened, but the scientists who’ve studied this world think no one controlled the portals. People opened them and started going in and out, without any kind of regulation. Maybe they had too many portals opening and closing. Maybe they didn’t have the technology to keep the portals stable. Whatever it was, a radiation virus swept through this world and killed everyone.”
Everyone. If IA doesn’t know what caused this, there’s nothing to say it couldn’t happen again.
“So why are we here?”
“We can’t just portal into New Prima directly because I don’t want anyone in IA to know we’re there. So we certainly can’t just portal into my apartment, like we did last time. We need to muddy our trail a little just to make sure there’s no energy signature that will trace us back to your world. Then we need to enter Prima through a soft spot in a remote location.”
I know he’s trying to keep things under wraps, but I didn’t expect all this secrecy.
“Tenner, the situation is a little worse than I let on,” he says. He looks guilty, which is a bad sign. “What we’re doing is directly against IA orders. I was actually sent on a completely different mission, and I’m ignoring those orders.”
“What mission?”
He shrugs it off. “It’s stupid and I’m not doing it, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Couldn’t you, I don’t know, get fired or something for ignoring orders?” If he loves anything, it’s his job. I’m surprised he’d be careless like that.
“Worse,” he says. “This is why we’re running low on time. I could be tried and thrown in jail, even executed for treason, if they find out, which means we have to do everything under the radar.”
I let that sink in. For a second, I’m glad the stakes are high for him, too. Not only are we on the same team, but this is about more than just glory for him. It’s personal. Then reality sets in. What am I doing on some unnamed, unoccupied world just now finding out about this? “What else is worse than you’ve let on?”
His jaw clenches, and I know there’s something. So I wait.
Barclay’s voice is quiet but firm. “Government officials in Prima have put out bulletins to all the worlds that are part of the Interverse Alliance. If Ben doesn’t turn himself in by nine a.m. on the thirty-first, they’re going to execute people he cares about.”
The air comes rushing out of my lungs like I’ve been hit, as I think of his parents—of his brother—and of Ben, of how much his family means to him. He just got them back, after being gone for seven years. He can’t lose them now. Not again.
“By the thirty-first?” I say, trying to do the math in my head. I count the days several times, hoping that I’ve made a mistake somehow. But I haven’t. “That’s in five days.”
Barclay nods and glances at his watch. “Five days, one hour, thirty-seven minutes, ten seconds.”
“Shit.” What else is there to say, really?
“They’ve already got all the remaining members of his family in custody,” Barclay adds.
Ben’s family. He told me about them after the first earthquake, when we sat under our table in Poblete’s English class. His mom the scientist, and his dad the traveling salesman. His older brother Derek.
We had these miniature car kits. They were like toys, but you built a car that was about two feet long from scratch and it was real, like with an engine and everything. But they were really expensive, so when my mom bought Derek a new kit, she used make him let me work on it with him. Then we’d take turns with the remote, racing the car down our street. We chased the dog a lot.
I take a deep breath. I can’t let anything happen to them. When we were in New Prima, Ben could have gone home to his world, but he came back with me to mine, to help me find my brother and stop Wave Function Collapse.
But this isn’t going to be easy. And now there’s a deadline—one that doesn’t leave us much time. We only have five days. Less than a week. “What’s the plan?”
Barclay grunts. “We need to find Ben, prove him innocent, and figure out exactly who’s behind this.”
And we need to find Cecily.
It’s a tall order for only five days.
I take a deep breath. “How do we find Ben?” That’s the first step, and we don’t have time to waste.
“We have to talk to the one person who knows Ben better than you,” he says.
I don’t have to ask who that is, I already know.
Elijah.
05:01:09:07
A half hour and four portals later, we’re finally in Prima, and I’m flat on my back and aching. I try not to think about how badly bruised I’m going to be from all the falling down. Instead, I focus on New Prima and how it doesn’t exactly remind me of the brief memory I have of looking down on the city from Barclay’s window.
For one thing, the stench is awful. It’s some dreadful combination of burning rubber, week-old garbage, and warm sewage. I wrinkle my nose at Barclay and look up.
The sky is the same iridescent gray that I remember, something that would be beautiful with all the different shimmering colors if it wasn’t crowded by thick, stormlike smog clouds hanging heavy in the air.
We’re in some kind of alley in what must be New Prima’s red-light district. Instead of the crystal skyscrapers, there are dark, graffiti-covered buildings with neon signs for alcohol, drugs, gambling, sex toys, and hotel rooms by the hour. The skyscrapers must be up there somewhere, since the sun is completely blocked out. It might as well be dusk or early evening.
But it’s morning, and no one seems to be around—probably because they’re still asleep from whatever they did last night.
“Did anyone see us portal in?” I ask anyway, since that could potentially blow our cover.
Barclay shakes his head. “I don’t think so. But if they did, it wouldn’t matter. No one down here would give a shit.”
I push myself to my feet and hug my jacket a little closer around me as I realize the building across from us has a number of floor-to-ceiling windows that only make sense if they’re lit up and showcasing someone stripping.
“Pull your hood up,” Barclay says. “We’re safe from being recognized for the moment, but we need to get to my apartment without being seen.”
He pulls a beanie from his coat pocket and puts it on his head. “Stick close to me; keep your head down. Don’t talk to anyone, and whatever you do, don’t look up.”
I follow his orders and stay close to his left shoulder as we walk through the alley. Underneath the neon lighting and the flashy signs, the filth matches the smell. There’s trash piled up next to the sidewalks and blocking the gutters, and old rainwater and possibly human waste sits puddled around the trash since it has nowhere to go.
We turn the corner and head down another alley, through a layer of foul-smelling steam that’s rising up from under the street. Barclay walks fast and keeps his head down, and I find myself almost running to keep up with him.
Whatever part of Prima this is, it’s not one I want to be hanging out in by myself.
After a couple more turns, we pass a stand in the street with a sign that says OPEN-AIR BODEGA, but really it’s just a guy grilling some kind of meat that looks burned and smells unclean. My stomach shifts uncomfortably as I try not to wonder what kind of meat it actually is. There’s a bulky guy next to the grill, watching a couple of people nearby approach. He’s clearly some kind of guard to make sure no one steals the mystery meat. He catches me looking at him, and his eyes rake over my body while his lips curl into a smile. A shiver moves up my back.
“Walk faster,” Barclay says without turning around.
For once, I listen without question.
We make another turn and pass a homeless guy sleeping on a pile of trash. Next to him, an old metal trash can is smoking from a fire about to die out.
He lifts his head as we pass him. “How much for your girl, man?”
I almost expect Barclay to make a joke about selling me to the homeless guy if I don’t follow his orders and cooperate with him, but he doesn’t. And I’m glad.
Finally we get to a metal building that at least seems well kept. Two guys who look like some kind of cross between military and police are standing guard next to the door. They’re wearing dark fatigues, bulletproof vests, and black boots, and carrying machine guns. As we approach them, their bodies visibly tense, and they adjust their grip on their weapons.
“I’ll do the talking,” Barclay whispers. I’ve got no problem with that. “And remember to keep your head down.”
When we’re a little less than five feet away, with guns trained on us, one of the cops shouts, “Hold it right there. Let’s see your tags.”
05:01:05:31
We stop, and Barclay says in his most polite voice, “I’m going to reach in my back pocket and grab my face tag.” But he doesn’t make a move yet. He waits for the approaching cop to nod, then reaches in his pocket and pulls out a black wallet. From it he hands over something that looks like the most glamorous driver’s license I’ve ever seen.
I shift on my feet. I can’t help it. My body feels tense and a little too warm, and I’m not sure how this is going to work.
The cop examines Barclay’s ID, tilting it to see a hologram, and then runs it through a scanner. While he does so, we don’t say anything. I’m not exactly sure what the card says. A face tag sounds like some kind of ID, only any form of identification announces, “Hey, this is Taylor Barclay, the guy who’s supposed to be on some kind of IA mission, and guess what, he isn’t,” which, as far as I know, wasn’t the plan.
This is worse than the checkpoints I go through with Deirdre. For one thing, I know I’m on the right side of the law at home. Feeling guilty means we’re more likely to look it too. For another, I know Deirdre will fight for me. Barclay, on the other hand, will serve his own ends. He might need me right now, but if it looks like we’re in trouble and it’s him or me, I know I’ll be on my own. Plus I don’t have any kind of identification on me, at least not any that would make sense to these guys.
I shift my glance to Barclay to see if he’s giving me any kind of sign. If we want to get past them, and he can’t get us through by talking, we’re going to have to storm the entrance by force. The two of us might be able to take out the guy in front of us with the element of surprise, but we’d be dead before we got to the door.
It doesn’t matter, though, because Barclay is relaxed and patient, waiting for the cop to give him his ID back.
“Tomas Barclay, sir,” the cop says as his stance shifts a little. “I apologize for the delay, but I’ll need to report what you were doing down here.”
Barclay offers him his most dazzling smile. “If possible, I’d love to keep this off the record,” he says. “You see, my wife’s sister . . .” He gestures toward me. “She’s had a rough go of it lately, and I had to come get her. It’s not going to happen again.”
The cop doesn’t say anything, and Barclay apparently takes that as an invitation to pay him off. He pulls several bills from his wallet and passes them to the cop. “For your discretion?”
I can barely breathe as I wait for the cop to decide what he’s going to do.
If he declines the money, I don’t know what our backup plan is, which puts me at a disadvantage if we have to put that plan into action. I can follow Barclay’s lead, sure, but I’m going to be slow.
And sometimes, being slow is how you end up dead.
But right when I think he’s going to decline, the cop takes the money and puts it in his pocket. “I’m sorry for the trouble, sir. Right this way.” Then he escorts us to the door.
When the door opens, it’s an elevator, and it’s clearly the cleanest thing in this part of town. I follow Barclay in and avoid eye contact with the cops.
I let out a breath when the doors close and the elevator comes alive.
“Taylor and Tomas?” I ask.
“Later,” Barclay says.
As we rise, I can smell the difference in the air with each level we ascend—cleaner, sweeter. In the silence, my mind goes to Ben and his family. He spent seven years trying to get back to them—to his parents and his brother. I remember the first time he told me about them. It had been so long he was having trouble remembering their faces.
I conjure up an image of Jared in my head, with his hair that needs to be cut and his dimpled smile, and I think of the lengths I would go to in order to keep him safe.
Right now Ben is either plotting how he can get his family back or he’s planning to turn himself in.
Either way, we have to find him first. And we have barely five days to do it.
The elevator dings and opens to a shiny white-and-blue outdoor platform. A crowd of people in business suits and an array of high-end coats are standing around. Some of them have tablets like iPads, only they’re completely clear, like they’re made of glass.
Barclay leads me off the elevator into the crowd. People move easily to make way without paying us any real attention, and I try to do the same. Marveling at all the differences between their world and mine would make me look like a tourist or someone out of place, and that’s going to attract attention.
But I can’t help gasping when I see the sky. Iridescent gray with shades of blues, pinks, and purples and streaks of silver, and it’s right in front of us.
At the end of the platform, there’s a railing separating people from a drop that has to be at least six stories off the ground.
Barclay pulls me against him and puts his arm around me. “If you don’t relax, you’re going to get us shot.”
As I nod, I hear the train approaching. I turn and look, even though I know I shouldn’t. I’m glad I do. It’s silver and sleek, like a bullet train, only it doesn’t run on actual tracks. It hovers above them.
Stars cloud my vision, and I feel light-headed as the gravity of where I am sinks in. I wonder if Ben felt like this in our world—or if this is what he felt like when he went home.
I’m in another universe—a place I don’t belong. I’m here, interfering with the laws of this world and the laws of physics as I understand them.
And the only person I know is Barclay. Which means I’m completely alone.
I wish Alex were here. I wish he could see this, but even more than that, I wish he could tell me what he thought of all this.
Because I’m in even more over my head than usual. I’m going up against serious criminals and an entire law-enforcement agency. And I’m in a strange world that isn’t mine.