Disrupted (3 page)

I blinked involuntarily as a hot force struck my shoulder and then flashed through my entire body. Bones quivering, I came out of that blink with a nasty suspicion.

Totally justified.

Chapter 3

“Y
ou Leaped us again,” I accused, taking in the sleek leather sofa propped with marble end tables, the plush rug and plain white walls. Except for one wall, that was glass from ceiling to floor.

“We transmuted, Miss Ervant,” said Drustan, releasing my shoulder. “A shift in space only. We’re still in the year 2106.”

I once again found myself needing to test wobbly legs. Chris, apparently much better at this mutant froggy stuff, drifted over to the window in something of a daze. Probably looking for a way to blame this on Jack as well.

“Wanda,” commanded Drustan. He folded his arms, looking intently at nothing in the middle of the sparsely furnished room.

And then suddenly there was something, a shimmering electrostatic buzz that slowly took the holographic form of a woman. The image sparked and crackled a couple of times, then the woman became a whole lot less holographic and a whole lot more real.

“Sorry about that,” she said, smoothing a hand through her shoulder length hair. “My circuits are playing up again.”

“Didn’t Monty sort that out?” asked Drustan.

“He came, he left.” She shrugged an elegant shoulder, her blue eyes sweeping over me to Chris, who’d turned from the window to watch. “You know how useless he is.”

“In other words, you refused to let him near you,” stated Drustan.

“You bet your ar—”

“Wanda! We have children present, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’m not a child,” I protested, but it was an automatic gesture without soul.

Most of me was still entranced by this computer chip with attitude.

She was absolutely stunning, from her silky blonde head to her stiletto booted tiptoes. Her jeans were black and tight, and she had the thighs to wear them. The stretchy pink vest top straddled her hips and moulded curves I could never hope to grow into.

Then again, my blueprint hadn’t been designed by a hot-blooded human of the male variety.

Drustan pulled Wanda aside to converse (rather rudely, if you ask me) in undertones that didn’t carry sufficiently to hold my attention. That was when I realised Chris was back at my side, a dull flush riding his cheekbones. His mouth was slacker than a salivating Labrador.

I jabbed him with my elbow. “She isn’t real, you know.”

Because he’d so obviously missed the electric twitches before his wonder woman had finally jump-started.

“I know,” he whispered with uncontained enthusiasm. “Isn’t it freaking marvellous?”

Of course, I reminded myself, this was Chris. In Chris world, it probably wasn’t that weird to have your hottie-o-metre wowed by a funky hard drive and a couple of silicon processors.

Drustan joined us again. His grim expression seemed to be a permanent feature. “Whenever TIC is used to make a Leap back in time, he is able to monitor discrepancies across the global network of databanks as the changed reality ripples through. This allows us to maintain a record of absolute history. Of course, we are only able to access and compare digitally recorded data.

“The first alert we received was the sudden appearance of a police docket opened to take Jack Townsend into custody for questioning.” Drustan half turned. “Wanda, show Christian what came up next.”

“Is that necessary?” Wanda draped herself into a dramatic pose over the arm of the sofa. “I really don’t think—”

“I do,” cut in Drustan firmly.

“Show me what?” demanded Chris.

Wanda narrowed her eyes on Drustan, but when he said nothing, she simply raised one hand, palm up, to balance an official looking document that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Only, she wasn’t exactly keeping it up, because as the image expanded to legible proportions, Wanda folded her arms.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t have to.

The document had grown to a massive four feet by three, each column bold and loud and clear.

When and Where Died: Biggs Hill Hospital. 19 July 2013 16:15.

Name and Surname: Christian Wood.

My gaze skimmed to the last column.

Cause of Death: Penetration to the left ventricle.

The marrow whooshed from my knees.

Because today was July the nineteenth.

Because Jack had been taken into custody.

Because the last time I’d seen Jack, he’d been charging us with a nasty blade in hand and in a very unfriendly manner.

But mostly, because nobody should ever have to read their own death certificate.

I took a deep, shaky breath. “Chris, you don’t have to look at that.”

“I’m sorry Christian, you left me no choice.” Drustan gave a deep sigh. “We don’t have much time and you should know how serious this matter is. I can’t have you doubting my intentions or trying anything foolish. There is no joke. This is all very real.”

Chris had gone pale. “I understand.”

Drustan sent Wanda back to her cyber coffin, or wherever vampish holographs hang out, and then he gripped Chris’s shoulder firmly. “You should also know that we have a dedicated team trained for just such an eventuality. We cannot— We will not allow you to die. All I need from you is to sit tight while we fix this transgression and correct the past.”

A whole SWAT team on standby just to make sure one Christian Wood didn’t die before his time was up? Sounded good to me. “So, when do they swoop in?”

Drustan gave me a blank look.

Chris gave me that, ‘Shut up, Willow,’ look he did so well.

I flapped my arms like a bird. “The SWAT team. That is what they do, isn’t it?”

“No one’s swooping in anywhere, Miss Ervant.”

Actually, the dozen or so Ninja warriors in my head were clad in black from top to toe and wouldn’t be caught dead swooping. “No, you’re right. But they will leap back, won’t they? Just in time to take out Jack and his buddies and save Chris.”

“Take out Jack?” exploded Chris. “Have you gone crackers?”

“Well, not take out,” I snapped crossly. Although, come to think of it, my Ninjas were pretty lethal. I hoped they could restrain themselves. “Just clobber him over the head, or something, before he has a chance to find us together in the woods. That should do it.”

“Or not,” said Drustan, sounding quite huffy. “My team is not exactly an action squad.”

“What are they, then?”

“Researchers, mainly. Scientists.”

“Oh, great,” I groaned. There went my Ninjas, along with Chris’s best hope for rescue. “What does that help?”

“It’s too dangerous to divert the course of events, Miss Ervant. That has a way of refracting into a million possible alternate futures and the risk would be astronomical. Consider a light source shining on a prism, if you would. Now consider what would happen if you shifted the light source to a new angle.”

Duh. “The pattern of reflecting light would change.”

“Precisely. Our mission is to restore the past to its original pattern. If we went about changing symptomatic events as they occur, it would be the equivalent of rotating the prism this way and that, hoping to find the fit. An impossible task, and each new kaleidoscope could potentially be an uncapped set of events with consequences.”

“You have to move the light source back to its original angle,” said Chris.

Drustan rewarded him with a tense smile. “In this case, that means identifying who went back and what he did, and reversing only the trigger event. We already know who made unauthorised use of TIC, and now—”

“Who is it?” interrupted Chris. “Who went back?”

“The name won’t mean anything to you and to be honest, I cannot quite believe him capable of this. We are looking for explanations along with everything else.”

“I deserve to know.”

After some hesitation, Drustan offered up, “Callum Jade.”

Chris returned a blank look.

As did I. “And Callum Jade is?”

“What does he have to do with me?” asked Chris.

“The answers are part of your future, Christian. Knowing anything in advance could potentially change the course of your life and history as we know it. I’m afraid there is very little I’m able to divulge without dire consequences.”

“Why does he want me dead?” persisted Chris.

Drustan grimaced. “To prevent you from fulfilling your destiny. As to why he’d want to do that, I have no answer.”

“But he’s the one who went back, this Callum guy? The one who altered the past so that I end up dead?”

“It would appear so.”

“What did I do?” demanded Chris quietly. “What horrific things am I capable of that he wants me dead before I can do them?”

“Be assured, Christian, you have done nothing horrific.”

The opposite, in fact.

Drustan didn’t have to add that in actual words. It was there for all to see in the warm and confident way he looked into Chris’s eyes.

Well, all except Chris, who muttered contemptuously, “That’s obviously a matter of opinion, isn’t it?”

I stared at Chris, astonished that he could be so dense. How had he missed the part about him being so flaming fabulous that future generations would stand guard 24/7 in case he needed saving?

“You don’t get out much,” I informed Chris, “but in the real world, the bad guys go about shooting up the good guys, not the other way around. And in case you still don’t get it, you’re the good guy.”

Now I know what you’re thinking. How could I be so certain? Shouldn’t there be a breath of doubt left over for Jack of the charging blade brigade, he who is also my boyfriend? Chris’s version put Jack as some sort of avenging angel who’d spared the world from an evil mastermind.

What can I say? I’m going through a dark phase. It’s not the way I like it, it just is. Evil is king and the good guy always ends up dead. Or slurped from Central London to the outskirts of nowhere, minus her dad.

Drustan gave me a strained look.

Chris was more verbal about his feelings. “Shut up, Willow.”

Then Drustan shook his head, as if to clear a dozen or so cobwebs that had suddenly been spun, and turned back to Chris. “We have enemies, Christian. This is just another tactic in the war they’ve already lost. One day, you’ll understand. Better than the rest of us, I dare say.”

Chapter 4

W
e’re not supposed to do, hear or see anything while we’re here. Mother Earth would implode or something, apparently, if we inadvertently learnt anything that ended up changing our destiny.

Or should I say Chris’s destiny?

I doubt anyone’s too fussed over mine. This might be my life, but it is so obviously Chris’s tragic and heroic story. I just happened to be attached to his arm when the very order of the universe was violated. Twice. Once to destroy him, and then again to save him.

Just to think, I could be blissfully ignorant and back in Biggs Hill, scrambling for my life on the forest floor. Maybe I still was? Were there now two of me, or had time frozen, waiting for our return?

Meanwhile, I was gazing out of the window, not trying very hard to not see the shiny mirror that London would one day transform into. A sea of imposing skyscrapers reached way past the occasional cloud, sheer metallic walls and sharp edges reflecting and splitting the bright sun to create an awesome light show.

Drustan’s apartment was so high up, you’d need an oxygen mask if the window could open. The narrow street below was a mystery- things were moving, but whether they were man or machine went beyond my 20/20 vision.

There was enough going on up here in the stratosphere, however, to keep me dazzled. A super-sized metallic eagle hovered at eye-level, then it was gone, zinging through the air with the grace and speed of a black bullet. Various forms of bird-like vessels drifted past, and every now and then all you saw was the blurred streak left behind. Land hoppers, Drustan had explained. Short range mini-aircraft that transformed into land vehicles on touchdown. The transport of choice since all inner city streets were reclaimed (I don’t know and I didn’t ask.)

I watched a family of four cruise by in a grey pigeon with the top down. That was definitely on my to-do list, right after Googling myself on Wanda. (Oh, come on! And you wouldn’t?)

I may have no worthy destiny to speak of, but that was all the more reason for a sneak preview of life as I was going to live it. My mum always says that we are each a sculpture in progress, and the clay is only baked and glazed on the day you die. I don’t always get my mum’s psycho-babble, but I’m all for the chance to smooth over a few nasty bumps and lumps before I’m baked.

I turned from the window to stare at roughly the same empty space Drustan had earlier and called, “Wanda.”

“What are you doing?” chirped a tinny voice to my left.

Gale!

I took a deep breath and focused. Why wasn’t Wanda appearing? “Wanda!”

“You can’t do that.”

“Chris,” I snapped, “get Gale out of my hair or I will.”

“I’m not in your hair,” stated Gale in that flat matter-of-fact way that sends a million red ants marching up your veins.

Well, maybe not your veins. You haven’t had the pleasure of Gale’s company since Drustan went off to do whatever he has to do to put the past back to sorts.

Gale is short for Galileo Explorer, a generation of free thinking robots built in the early twenties (that would be the 2020’s). Gale, on the other hand, acts as if she were christened with that name at birth. I don’t think anyone’s told her she’s a machine.

You’d think she’d have noticed, though. The luminous lime tubular body being an excellent clue.

Her head is an inverted triangle, hovering precariously above her body by a wire thread. She has three eyes, protruding black orbs with infrared pin pricks at the centre. The base of her tube broadens and separates into two toeless feet. No legs, but she does have pipe-like arms that end in long-jointed fingers. Whatever metal she’s made of is malleable and has the ability to change colour. When she first met Chris, she turned a shimmering lilac and somehow managed to stretch her arms like a piece of endless gum until they were entwined all the way up and down her body. Seriously, she flew off in a huff to untangle herself. Unfortunately, she came back.

And here’s a few things you never wanted to know about Gale:

(1) She has a total crush on Chris. Actually, it’s worse than that. She adores him, worships at his feet, she would give her last drop of battery fluid for him.

(2) She hates me. I have no idea why and Chris says I’m imagining it. A robot doesn’t have emotions, he told me.

(3) Even Chris can’t pretend to not notice how gaga Gale is over him. She is such a flirt. If she had eyelashes, they’d be fluttering in heaven right now due to overexertion.

Whoever programmed the toys in this household has an evil sense of humour. But if Chris thought it’s all so ‘freaking marvellous’, he was welcome to the caring and feeding of Gale.

Which brought me back to glaring at him. “Don’t you have another gold rosette triumph to thrill Gale with?”

Chris glared back at me from the sofa.

“You must have something more,” I said, not mistaking the mutiny in his eyes, just ignoring it. “What about the one at-at the—” I reached deep, tossed a few likely words together, and came up with, “the applied... physics... thingy... fair?”

“Applied physics?” cooed Gale.

Yes. She might be a robot, but she coos. She might even have swooned. I didn’t look.

“How did you know I took first prize there?” demanded Chris of me.

I raised a mostly horrified, partly fascinated, brow at him. I hadn’t even known there really was a thing like applied physics.

“How many entrants were you up against? Were they all decades older than you? What invention did you enter?” gushed Gale. “Ooh, tell me all about it. Please, please, Christian Wood.”

“Oh, yes, Christian Wood,” I mimicked, “Please, please do.”

Not! I’d already heard all about the Abstract Mathematics Challenge, the Einstein Young Scientist of the Year, the- well, at that point I’d blocked out Gale’s shrills of ecstasy and retreated to the window and my own little world of drastic (it would appear) non-achievement.

“Wanda!” I called again, desperate to get her here while Gale was otherwise occupied.

“You’re wasting your breath,” said Gale, flitting from Chris’s side to torment me up close.

So much for Chris’s help.

I glowered at her. “Did I ask your opinion?”

“Wanda won’t respond to you and I’m not going to call her.” Gale’s middle eye shot out on a springy extension to touch my nose. I squinted at the pesky eyeball until it hurt and I was forced to take a step back.

“Do you see now?” I blurted to Chris. “She hates me.”

“Gale doesn’t hate anyone,” said Chris.

Gale snapped her eyeball back into place. “I don’t hate you.”

She is such a suck up. But I could work that. “Then you won’t mind doing me a small favour and calling Wanda?”

“I’d love to, I really would. Except Drustan said you’re not to have access.”

“Couldn’t you just—”

“No.”

“But he need never know and I’m sure—”

“No.”

“Actually,” said Chris, sitting forward eagerly, “it would be brilliant to see Wanda again.”

Gale spun around. Twice. “Drustan said—”

“We won’t cause any trouble,” cut in Chris.

“I really shouldn’t.” Gale’s arms started to curl around her body.

“For me, Gale? Please?”

“Well, maybe.” She stopped her arms before she got into a tangle again. “For you, Christian Wood.”

If ever there was a gag-worthy moment... but then Gale went to perch beside Chris and sighed, “Wanda,” breathlessly, and I quite happily wished the two of them well.

There was an electrostatic buzz, and there Wanda was. And then she wasn’t. Ah, there she was again. “You should really consider getting that seen to,” I suggested.

“In Monty’s dreams,” snorted Wanda, but she gave me a cheeky smile before turning to Gale. “Everything all right?”

“Fine,” said Gale dreamily, gazing into Chris’s eyes. “Just fine.”

“Hey, Wanda,” said Chris.

Wanda greeted him with a wink and a smile that sent him slinking lower in his seat.

“Great, now that everyone’s caught up, you don’t mind if I borrow Wanda for a second?” I reached out to drag Wanda over to the window, was halfway there before I realised my hand had sliced straight through her arm. “Sorry. You look so solid.”

“No problem, it doesn’t hurt.”

“You felt that?”

“Probably not the same way you feel,” Wanda chuckled, following me to the window. I’d have preferred outside the room, but couldn’t see a way to getting that past either Chris or Gale.

“I was wondering,” I whispered, “if you could tell me what’s happening with Jack Townsend? Was he charged with Chris’s murder? Did he do it?”

“I really can’t say,” said Wanda, dropping her voice to match my whisper.

“Because Drustan commands,” I muttered. But I couldn’t leave it. If my boyfriend was capable of murder, I wanted to know sooner rather than later. “Wanda, please, I have to know.”

Wanda put on a sympathetic pout. “Drustan entered a manual override before he left. All data on Christian Wood and Jack Townsend is in lock down.” She pressed her index fingers to her temple. “It’s like I have gaping black holes in here.”

“Damn.”

“I’ll double that. It’s very intrusive and shows a disappointing lack of trust in me.”

“I suppose he blocked me as well?”

“Now that you mention it,” drawled Wanda with a smile, “he never did.”

Now why didn’t that surprise me? “Of course he wouldn’t, there’s nothing in my future worth preserving from implosion.”

“I think he meant to,” said Wanda. “TIC beeped him while he was busy. Whatever new information came through distracted him before he got around to it.”

“What new information?”

Wanda closed her eyes for a moment, then shrugged. “I have no idea. Which means it’s blocked.”

This was so frustrating, I wanted to scream.

Or ask a question Wanda could actually answer.

I thought quickly. There were a million things I still wanted to know, and Gale could snap out of her gaze-lock any second. But there was one thing I just couldn’t resist. “Can you search through registered documents, like marriage certificates, for my name?”

“You want to know who you marry?” Wanda asked, her voice rising.

“Shhh,” I warned.

“Sorry,” she whispered, adding, “You’re sure about this?”

I almost said no. This was huge. Scary huge. But then I nodded, half of me convinced Wanda would blabber something about Drustan and destinies and not being allowed to answer such questions.

“Let’s see.” Wanda turned to stare out the window.

I held my breath.

She looked back to me, frowning. “I’m not finding anything.”

“There must be something,” I insisted.

“Willow Ervant,” she murmured. “Ah, wait, here’s something.”

My heart lurched with a mix of dread and excitement. I couldn’t do this. It was so, so wrong. I had to stop Wanda, before it was too late.

I tried. I really did. I waited, silently chewing on my bottom lip. But it seemed no amount of guilt could force the words out of my mouth. An image materialised above her outstretched palm.

A newspaper article.

Prince Nikolaus Weds in Secret.

Oh my... Oh my... Oh my... I was hyperventilating. Nervous thrills raced up my spine. Me! I marry a prince.

Prince Nikolaus of...?

It didn’t matter. I was going to be a princess one day. And he was gorgeous. Tall and lanky, very regal, slumberous eyes and dark hair. He was broody, dreamy, sexy, everything a prince should. This was so far out, so absolutely, ridiculously, unbelievable! Who would ever have guessed—wait a minute.

I peered a little closer, zooming in on the stunning blonde in white satin linked to his arm. That wasn’t me. Not in a hundred corrective surgeries would I ever look like that.

As I plunged down from my high, I scanned the article, finally reaching my name at the very end. The by-line, actually.

“Is- is that all you have?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Wanda. “There’s no other record or reference to marriage.”

Something that felt a lot like grief welled up in my throat. Or maybe it was disappointment. Disgust? Definitely anger. I shuddered at the emotional mess curling in my stomach. Was that the best I was going to be? A lonely, single tabloid reporter?

“What’s this, then?”

I turned to find Chris behind me. Gale at his side. How long had they been there?

“Willow wanted to know who she ends up marrying,” disclosed Wanda in a loud whisper.

“You’re not supposed to do that,” freaked Gale, spinning into the air. “What did you tell her? What have you done?”

“I haven’t done anything.” The newspaper article dissolved into a pile of pixels in Wanda’s palm. “There was nothing to tell, anyway.”

I must have made a sound, a splutter of indignation, or maybe a gasp of embarrassed despair. Because next thing Wanda was giving me a weak smile and saying, “You’re probably better off never getting married, Willow. According to a survey done in 2045, 53 percent of marriages end in death or divorce. The odds improve slightly in 2078, but then decline sharply in—”