Authors: D. L. Orton
Lost Time (17 page)
.
.
Note to Reader
G
entle Reader,
Writing a book series with multiple timeline
s—
not to mention multiple versions of the main characters in different universes (oh my!)—is both challenging and fun, but it is also by its nature non-linear. That makes deciding what book to write next a challenge, and I know that no matter whose story I choose, some fans will be disappointed (and restless!)
I’m hoping that you enjoyed meeting Shannon (don’t worry, she’ll be fine) and finding out more about Lani (she’s a resourceful leader and will be back in her element soon), and seeing a different side of David (he’ll always be Dave to me.) To those of you who were longing to hear about Tego (he’s got his work cut out for him), I ask for your patience. I will get back to Tego’s story in book four, and I promise that it will be worth the wait.
To that end, I plan to write shorter books and get them out faster. I hope you agree that I am making the right trade-off, but if not, be sure to
drop me a line
(and if you missed the steamy scenes from book one, let me know that too? Those scenes are difficult to write well, and lots of people hated them in
Crossing In Time
, so I’ve left them out of
Lost Time
.) If you’d like to read some of the “deleted scenes” (including steamy ones), I plan to post a few on
BetweenTwoEvils.com
(Or
sign up for my mailing list
, and I’ll let you know when a new one is up.)
If you turn the page, you’ll find a preview of book three
and
a preview of book four. I realize that you have oodles of reading options, and I thank you for choosing to spend a little of your precious free time with me.
The journey is the reward. Thanks for joining me.
Warm regards,
D.L. Orton
About the Author
D
. L. ORTON is a graduate of Stanford University’s Writers Workshop and a past editor of “Top of the Western Staircase,” a literary publication of CU, Boulder. The author has a number of short stories published in online literary magazines, including
Melusine
,
Cosmoetica
,
The Ranfurly Review
, and
Catalyst Press
.
Ms. Orton lives in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains where she and her husband are raising three boys, a golden retriever, two Siberian cats, and an extremely long-lived Triops. Her plans include completing the five books in this series followed by an extended vacation on a remote tropical island (with a Starbucks).
When she’s not writing, playing tennis, coding, or helping with algebra, she’s building a time machine so that someone can go back and do the laundry.
Copyright © 2016 D. L. Orton.
All rights reserved.
Between Two Evils Series Book Two
Published by Rocky Mountain Press (USA)
ISBN: 978-1-941368-08-4
EBook Edition (v1.0.10)
Written by D. L. Orton (
[email protected]
,
@DL_Orton
)
Edited by David S. Taylor (
thEditors.com
)
Illustrations by
Micah McDonald
Cover by
Andreea Vraciu
Book Layout by
Fernando Urbina
Line Edited by
Deanne Charlton
Proofreaders:
Keith Moser
,
Jenny Dwight Dip. Edit.
,
Helen Baggott
,
Lynn Worton S.A.C. Dip
,
Mark Schultz
Lost Time
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, businesses, events, or locales is coincidental.
This book contains adult content and is for mature audiences. No animals were harmed in the publication of this manuscript.
The text was set in Adobe Dante, a serif typeface originally cut for use on a hand printing press.
Chapter 1
Diego: Lockdown
T
he sun is just coming up when I limp into the airlock at C-Bay, still wearing Shannon’s blanket from the plane. The others are already through, but C-Bay has me strip, breathe three minutes of bottled air to clear the virus out of my lungs, and then they cycle the air again. I stand there for another three minutes, waiting for the all-clear, and then I put my clothes back on and walk through the inner door, wishing the wackjobs who beat me up had finished the job.
Our rescuers are paramilitary, and more men in uniform are waiting inside. Matt is already there, and the instant the door behind me shuts, one of the uniforms steps forward and gives me a crisp salute. “Welcome to C-Bay. I was told that you are in need of medical assistance, Mr. Crusoe. Would you like a wheelchair?”
I shake my head. “Your guys already patched me up, but thanks.”
“Very well,” he says. “I’m sure you’re tired and hungry, so if you’ll follo
w—”
“I want to speak to Mr. Kirk,” I say. “About sending a rescue party to Catersville.”
He gives a curt nod. “I can assure you that Mr. Kirk is well aware of Miss Kai’s plight. Now then, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your quarters.”
Matt and I stare at each other, trying to decide what to do.
“Mr. Crusoe,” the uniform says, glancing at his clipboard, “your appointment to have blood drawn is at thirteen hundred hours. It will be followed by a radiology exam, a biometric assessment, and a psychological evaluation.” He turns to Matt. “Dr. Hudson, you are sche
d—”
“Excuse me,” I say, “but I wish to speak with Mr. Kirk. Right now. If you would be so kind as to take me to him, I would appreciate it.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Crusoe, but that is not possible. As I said, Mr. Kirk is being kept up-to-date on the hostage situation, and he will be handling it as he deems appropriate.”
I start to protest, but he holds up his hand in warning.
“Although I understand your concern, Catersville is no longer your problem. As I’m sure you’re aware, your ability to survive Outside is of the utmost importance to everyone in this biodome and possibly the world. I have orders to let you sleep for five hours and then escort you to begin testing. I intend to follow those orders, Mr. Crusoe, and I advise you to do the same.” He glances over at Matt. “Dr. Hudson, if you’ll follow me.”
Matt hesitates and then steps closer to me. “I’m with Diego, and I think your best bet would be to wake up Kirk and tell him to get his arse down here. If he wants us to cooperate, then we need to know how he plans to get Shannon back.”
“I see.” He nods at his men, and before we can react, they have us handcuffed. He turns back to us. “We’re all on the same team here, boys, and I’d appreciate it if you’d start acting like it. Take them to their quarters and make sure they get something to eat.”
Two men grab my arms from behind and start pushing me down the hallway.
“Wait.” A woman’s voice comes from the shadows, and the uniforms freeze.
Something about her voice makes my heart race, but I’m too exhausted to think straight.
“Let me see his face,” she says.
“Of course, Dr. Kirk.” They muscle me around.
She steps out of the shadows, tall and thin, with straight blond hair in a bun at the base of her neck, a fifty-something Evita.
“Bring him here.” She speaks with undeniable authority, and the uniforms hustle to obey her, dragging me along.
Fifties or not, she is quite striking.
She stares at me, her gaze flitting across my injured face.
“Who are you?”
The uniform in charge answers. “Diego Crusoe, ma’am. We just brought him in.”
“I know that, you idiot.” She doesn’t take her eyes off me. “What’s his real name?”
The military guy pokes me in the back. “Speak up, son.”
I shrug. “I don’t remember.”
Her eyes get big and then she tips her head, squinting a little, and lets her gaze roam from my eyes to my cheek, down my jaw to my chin, and come to rest on my lips.
I swallow, and her eyes dart back up to meet mine.
“So it is…
you
.” She spits the last word out like an accusation, and it is at that exact instant when I realize who she is.
“Isabel?”
She slaps me hard across the face, and I stumble against the guy on my right, tasting blood.
When I manage to look up into her sea-green eyes, they’re full of hatred.
“Get him out of my sight.”
∞
I’m awakened by a knock on the door, and a nurse bustles in carrying a tray of food. “Good afternoon, Mr. Crusoe. I’ve brought your lunch.” She sets it down on the bedside table and nods at a stack of clothing on a chair. “If you’d like to take a shower and get dressed, I’ll be back in thirty minutes to change your bandages and escort you to have your blood drawn.” She gives me a saccharin smile. “We can’t sleep away the whole day, now, can we?”
“I’m not going anywhere until I talk to Kirk.”
She frowns, a hairnet pressing into her forehead. “I’m just a nurse, Mr. Crusoe, not a magician. Mr. Kirk is a very busy man, and when he gets a chance, I’m sure he’ll be over to speak with you. Until then, I suggest you cooperate. Handcuffs can be such a nuisance.” She turns on her heel and walks out.
I get up and check the door, but it’s locked.
Mierda
, what have I gotten myself into?
I take a shower in the small bathroom, carefully removing the bandages on my face, knees, and feet, and washing with liquid soap out of a pump bottl
e—
something they didn’t have at the Bub. After I dry off, I comb my hair, tie it back with a rubber band from a stack on the counter, and put on the clean clothes. They fit surprisingly well.
My backpack is in the corner, so I take out Shannon’s jaguarundi drawing and stick it up on the wall using Band-Aids from the medicine cabinet.
I’m sorry, Shaz, but I’ll get you out of there as soon as is humanly possible.
I make the bed, sit down on it, and set the food tray on my lap. Lunch consists of three dry brown disks, a glop of greenish goo that reminds me of spoiled guacamole, and a glass of tepid water. I take a bite of the cookie-like thing and then spit it out. It tastes like salted cardboard with traces of heavy metals in it. I don’t even try the Soylent Green.
At precisely one o’clock, Nurse Ratched comes in pushing a wheelchair. Her eyebrows rise when she sees that I’m dressed, but fall again when she sees that I haven’t eaten anything. “The seaweed baked with ground fish bones is very nutritious, Mr. Crusoe, and now it will go to waste.” She clicks her tongue. “Need I remind you that we have lots of people to feed and very few natural food sources?”
“Give it to them with my compliments.”
She purses her lips and rolls the wheelchair around to the bed. “Are you going to cooperate, or shall I call security?”
Shit.
I sit down in the wheelchair and cross my arms, wondering if Lani knows about Shannon yet.
Christ, what am I going to tell her?
I spend the rest of the day being tested for diseases, deformities, and defecation. I’m poked, prodded, and interrogated about my early childhood toilet training, but not one person asks me about the biotech devices in my blood.
That evening, I’m brought back to my hospital room, where yet another round of Soylent Green is waiting.
“Good night, Mr. Crusoe,” Nurse Ratched says, waiting for me to get out of the chair. “I will be back in the morning at eight o’clock sharp. I would appreciate it if you were ready.” She leaves, pushing the wheelchair and securing the door from the outside.
The lights in the room go off at nine. I do twenty push-ups, brush my teeth, and then climb into bed. There’s a light in the bathroom that I can’t turn off, and I lie awake, staring at Shannon’s jaguarundi drawing on the wall. When I finally fall asleep, my dreams are full of huge reptiles chasing her, as I stand frozen, unable to do anything except watch.
In the morning, the lights come on at seven, and breakfast is waiting when I get out of the shower. It’s the same as lunch and supper. I’m getting pretty hungry, so I force down as much of it as I can stomac
h—
which is not much.
The nurse comes in precisely at eight pushing her wheelchair. She takes one look at my tray and gives me a disapproving glare. “That’s very wasteful, Mr. Crusoe.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
She lets out a humph. “Suit yourself. You have a very busy schedule today, so let’s get to it. First up, Proctology.”
Proctology? It’s like someone is try to torture me.
“I’m done taking tests,” I say.
She stands there staring at me, her hands on her hips, and I get the feeling no one’s ever told her no before.
“Goddamn it, you’ve done everything except chop me up into little bits to see if my legs regrow. I’m not submitting to any more tests until I talk to Captain Kirk.”
She crosses her arms. “I’m sorry we’re not living up to your expectations, Mr. Cr
u—”
“I want to talk to Kirk. Now.”
She snorts, her lips puckered like a caricature of a telephone operator. “I see.”
“And would a goddamn sandwich be too much to ask?”
“Unfortunately, this is a hospital not a resort hotel, so I strongly suggest you eat what you’re served.” She glances at the breakfast tray on my bed, turns the wheelchair around, and pushes it out the door. “Things would go better for you if you kept that in mind.”
Ten minutes later, Dave Fucking Kirkland walks in and offers me his hand. “I’m David Kirk, head of C-Bay. I hear you wanted to see me.”
I stare at him for a minut
e—
unnerved by how much he looks like his double in my worl
d—
and shake his outstretched hand. “Diego Crusoe. Thanks for coming.”
“My pleasure. May I call you Diego?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I would have gotten here sooner, but I’ve been tied up looking through the blueprints for the Catersville dome. I know you must be worried about Shannon, but believe me, I want to get her out of there just as much as you do.”
“You know her?”
He laughs. “Of course I do, I’m her godfather. Lani and I go way back, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect them.” He pulls up the chair and sits down. “I wish Lani would have consulted me before sending Shannon out here with the two of yo
u—
I could have had my private jet stop by next mont
h—
but that’s water under the bridge.” He gives me a warm smile. “So what can I do for you, Diego?”
“I want to help get Shannon back. I was hoping you would put together an expedition and go pull her out of there. Christ, they’re a bunch of religious zealots, and they’re planning to use her as a sex slav
e—”
“Whoa there, Hoss.” He holds up his hand. “You’re right about the place being a bit unusual, but they’re still people, and some of them are old friends of mine.”
Shit, he knows those guys?
“PC estimates that Catersville is down to fewer than fifty people, the majority of them men over sixty, so they could use another women. Last time I checked, Shannon was old enough to be making some choices along those lines.”
“What!?” It comes out as more of a croak than a word. “You want Shannon to stay with those wackos?”
“I didn’t say that.” He gives me a hurt look.
“And what the hell is PC?”
“Population Control, of course. Where have you been for the last twenty years? I’m not saying it’s a good thing they kept her, I’m just saying that if she’s anything like her mother, I don’t think she’s going to let a bunch of old white guys push her around.”
Christ. He thinks she’s going to enjoy living there?
“And like I said, as soon as I heard what happened, I started looking into ways to persuade them to let her go.”
I shake my head, not understanding. “So what exactly are you doing?”
“I built their fucking biodome,
Domingo
. I have access to their computer
s—
even their air and water supply. In a week or two, they’ll be begging me to come get her.”
“So you’re mucking with their air supply?” I say. “What if something goes wrong? Something like what happened to the Lou?”
“Nothing is going to go wrong, and even in the highly unlikely event that it does, I’ll send in a few dozen armed men and get her out before you can say rescue hero.”
“Yeah? Well, I want to go with you.”
He laughs again. “You got a military background hiding underneath all that hair?”
He reads the look on my face.
“Didn’t think so. Lani’s right, you know, you’re too important to risk losing. We need you here where we can science the shit out of the stuff in your blood.”
“But I can’t just sit around waiting for you to bring her back. She’s my responsibility. I’m the reason she’s in trouble, and she’s like a daughter to me. You of all people must understand that.”
“I do, and you have my word that I won’t rest until we bring Shannon home, okay?
I don’t respond.
“Look, the best thing you can do is stay here and help us with the research.”