Rifter (The Survival Project Duology Book 1) (11 page)

“You searched out her grandmother? That’s obscene. She’s not even the same woman. Do you know how…? Damn you. Are you determined to create complications?”

“You mean loops? They don’t exist. Didn’t you listen when I gave you the complete rift travel 101?”

“This is not the time for flippant jokes, McNaught. I’m telling you now, if you get her pregnant you could jeopardise this whole operation.”

He stared at Debra for a moment. She was being serious. She really didn’t understand. It bolstered his confidence.

“No, it won’t. I’ll just create another timeline, the same way I’m doing by picking up this pen and snapping it in half.”

The clack as the casing of Debra’s biro split in half filled the air.

Debra’s expression hardened.

“Do you not understand? I want this world to be the one that finds the solution. If you jeopardise that, I swear I’ll kill you with my own hands.”

He looked her straight in the eye. He wanted her to know how hard that would be. For a moment, she looked unnerved.

“Why would I jeopardise that? It’s why I agreed to work for you. You’re only this frustrated because Mara arriving here means—”

“Mara? Even her name’s the same.”

“No, Mara, Mayra. Not the same.”

He knew Debra really cared. She wanted this world to survive and she was prepared to do anything to make that happen. In truth, Debra didn’t want any more visitors to this world searching for answers. She only wanted visitors with a solution. That’s what she’d hoped he’d be. That knowledge of the future would help her convince this world that they were heading for disaster. He could no more help her with that than he could help Mara with a solution to take back.

This world was doomed.

Debra pursed her lips. He had the feeling she was still holding something back.

“You went to the site. What if she saw you? She might have realised who you are. What if she goes back and tells them it’s futile? They might stop trying. You’ll have jeopardised your own world’s future as well.”

“No, they won’t do that. They’re too committed. Look, dates were not something we were asked to look at, only facts. I don’t look the same as I did eight years ago. I was a teenager then. I’ve filled out a lot.”

Debra slumped down into her chair again. “And, if she contacts you?”

“Why would she? She’s only here for three days.”

“Because, McNaught, you never went back. I’m not privy to her personal feelings, but I imagine her heart was broken.”

Leo stood. He glared at her. “As was mine, by you. Look, isn’t that what you want? You’re going to try to stop her, aren’t you? What difference does it make?”

“It makes one hell of a lot of difference. If I’d thought you had an ounce of anything approaching weak sentiment in you, I would never have agreed to have you in The Department. You were one of the bitterest men I had ever met. I hardly think that changed overnight. If she so much as looks at you across the street, I want to know, and don’t lie to me. You know I’m going to be watching you.”

“Ma’am.”

“And get that girlfriend of yours in here. I will hear what she knows from her own mouth.”

“But you won’t tell her? About who Mara is?”

“I told you, I don’t want anything jeopardising this. Why on Earth would I tell her that?”

Thirteen

Mara bounced up and down on the bare mattress like a little kid. It felt so good to be sitting somewhere warm and comfortable, and safe. The staff had given her a pile of bedding to make up her bunk, but all she wanted to do was to spend a few minutes relaxing. The mattress was thick enough that she couldn’t feel the struts beneath her, a luxury that she hadn’t experienced since she’d left home — the home she grew up in, not her accommodation at The Facility — but not so thick that you’d want to stay in it all day, lounging around like someone who had nothing to do, which was probably just as well. Oversleeping was not something she was intending to do. If she did manage to get some sleep, she’d do it when it was the proper time, when nothing was open that could give her information on how this world was dealing with the problems her world had failed miserably at tackling. It was time to take her mission seriously. It was time to control her situation. Getting some money and somewhere to sleep had given her a new sense of purpose. Only the food to go, and then she’d be completely set.

The lime green walls and furnishings of the room contrasted with orange carpets and accessories — coat hooks, hangers, individual lockers. It wasn’t the most restful of colour combinations, but it was cheerful. In truth, she’d never seen so much colour lavished on somewhere you only used to sleep. Or anywhere, for that matter. Colours tended to match the outside. Any room she’d ever been in before had been painted in the range that went from off white, to a slightly dirty cream. It made for a feeling of lethargy, almost, whereas the oranges and greens made her feel energised.

She really liked it.

And … Grrr, She had to stop her mind wandering back to thinking about Leo. What was wrong with her?

It wasn’t only the stupid decision she’d made that was bugging her now. It was the realisation that the Leo who lived on this world now knew there was someone else here who resembled his girlfriend, and, if he was anything like his counterpart, he’d want to find out why.

If personality was anything to do with biology, he wouldn’t give up.

So, all she needed to do was to be cleverer than him.

That was the very reason she hadn’t used the hostel the pawnbroker had recommended. Instead, she had spent a further hour tramping through the streets looking for somewhere different. It wasn’t another specific protocol they’d all been taught, but they’d learned about creating false trails, even if you didn’t think you’d need them.

She was loath to go to the library, even though she hadn’t done any of her research yet. Anywhere that public was going to be dangerous for her. If she’d bumped into Leo once, she could do it again, especially if he was looking for her. His Department had to have the resources to do that. Particularly, if he’d made the link of her appearance being connected with the rift. She had to assume that he had. Always assume the worst possible scenario. She’d seen some of the observation cameras dotted about the city, in fact, she’d seen loads. Which meant that there would be others she hadn’t seen. If someone wanted to track you, the moment they found you on one of the cameras, you’d have lost your battle at anonymity.

Perhaps, she could find a disguise. Or was she over-thinking this?

She had to try to find out something about how this world was dealing with pollution and consumption and climate degradation, so that she could at least officially discount this place as being the solution. If she didn’t do that, her whole trip was wasted. That was the thing that galled her most. The fact that she’d been entrusted with this momentous task and had ended up making such a hash of it.

She was still contemplating what her course of action should be when a young man walked into the room and took ownership of a bunk along the opposite wall. She realised she was watching him rather too closely. In fact, she was staring. Blatantly staring at someone who had quite innocently crossed her field of vision. She wasn’t really looking at him, but at the things in her mind that happened to be completely in focus exactly where his bunk was, but it was still very rude. And noticeable.

Although, he didn’t turn toward her, so she started to look at him properly.

She toyed with another idea. It might be good to talk to someone she didn’t know, about something inane, for a few minutes.

He looked quite young, probably about her age, maybe a touch older, and well-travelled. His hair had that appearance of not having been cut for a while and his facial hair was more fulsome than suited his features, which were definitely not coarse. He had the air of someone who was contented with his lot, which was emphasised by an easy smile. A smile? She flushed. He had noticed her interest. He wasn’t supposed to do that. He was supposed to be so engrossed in what he was doing that the fact that she was staring at him passed him by. She averted her eyes for a moment and fiddled with a pillowcase. He slung his rucksack onto the bunk and she glanced up again. It would be even ruder not to say something after he’d noticed, but what? This wasn’t a situation she was familiar with. Her eyes focused on the rucksack. It was strung with a couple of key rings and had a badge or two sewn on. It was a start.

“Travelling?” she said.

His smile grew even broader, when he turned to face her again and crossed his arms over his chest. He eyed her up and down for so long that she began to think something was dreadfully wrong with her appearance. Eventually, he answered her. “I’m assuming that was rhetorical.”

After a few moments, embarrassed by her stupidity, she started to giggle. And to her surprise, he joined in.

He strode across the room, hand outstretched. “Hi. I’m Kerry. Kerry Wilson.”

Mara took his hand. His grip was firm and his skin a little rough. His accent had a lilt that did sound familiar, but that she couldn’t quite place.

“Mara Scott. You’re from …?” He crossed his arms again and waited, this time a smirk tilted the corners of his mouth upward. She couldn’t decide. And more to the point, she didn’t know if this world was the same. Any guessing games would be … awkward.

“You’ve got three options,” he said, goading her.

“Say something else,” she prompted.

“Something else.”

That was the kind of response her brother would’ve given. She almost threw a pillow at someone she didn’t even know.

“Southlandia?” She extended the syllables of the word as she made it up on the fly.

His mouth gaped for a moment, but there was still amusement in his eyes.

“Coward. I’m from New Zealand, but, if I’m not mistaken, you are definitely from around these parts and,” he peered around her side, “by the looks of it, you have even less with you than I do.”

She looked down at her clothes. They really were all she had with her. Everything she needed was concealed within her jacket. She realised how odd that would look to someone else. How odd it must have looked to the receptionist when she’d booked in. She was beginning to think that engaging with Kerry had been a bad idea, but she didn’t want to stop.

“I’m only here for a couple of days. I like to travel light.”

“Huh. There’s light, and there’s, well, I want to say skeletal, but that sounds a bit gruesome.”

It was her turn to justifiably cross her arms and feign indignation, but she didn’t.

“I’ll take skeletal in the way it was meant.”

“Good. I’d hate to make the wrong impression quite so quickly.” He swivelled away and then back toward her with an afterthought, one she imagined he’d been considering longer than the couple of seconds he was pretending. “Look, I’ve been travelling all night and I’m so starving I can barely think. Do you fancy going down to the refectory for some breakfast, Mara Scott, who travels light? Unless you’ve already eaten, of course. Or you want a second breakfast. I’m all for those.”

She had the distinct impression he was nervous about asking. It was endearing, and charming.

Was she scary?

Okay, her clothes were very utilitarian, but …. She was over thinking, again.

She felt a strange attraction to him, which was a shock, especially after her feelings for Leo had been awakened only the day before, and then summarily dashed, and because, well, she’d never been a fan of beards. They made her think of bits of dried-up, three-day-old food.

“I’m really hungry too,” she said. She didn’t want to say starving, she knew too well what that meant.

He nodded.

It seemed they had an agreement.

The refectory, it turned out, was just as brightly decorated as the bedroom, with red walls, scattered with cartoon-like paintings of famous London locations. The facilities comprised the kind of bench seats and tables that she imagined were more properly meant for outside use, due to their rough-hewn nature. They were painted in many different colours, as if someone had only had enough paint to do one at a time. It gave the place a lively feel that fitted with the mainly young clientele.

The food smelled delicious, although she’d probably have thought that of any food at that moment. Hunger training had never been something she’d excelled at.

She stood at the counter with her tray. There were so many options, she had difficulty deciding what to eat. Another thing she wasn’t used to. She was glad she’d let him go first.

Kerry ordered a full English breakfast, which consisted of bacon, sausages, eggs, beans, something called black pudding, tomatoes and a type of fried potatoes that she’d not seen before. Never in her life had she watched a plate being piled up with so much food for one person to eat, for a single meal. Clearly, there wasn’t any rationing at all in this world. She couldn’t imagine wanting to eat that much at once, let alone being able to. Surely, there were limits to how much a stomach could hold?

For a second she bit her lip as she contemplated trying to find out.

No. She opted for something less extravagant. A bowl of cereal and a slice of toast with a pat of butter and a tiny pack of jam.