Saving Yesterday (TimeShifters Book 1) (15 page)

We’re shoulder to shoulder, but he doesn’t turn his head at all to face me. “You’re stronger than you think you are.”

I force a laugh. “Well great. Looks like all that time on the bench press paid off.”

Poor Darnell, he’s always so serious. He probably doesn’t know what to do with me.

He turns now and rests a heavy hand on my shoulder. The action makes me meet his eyes. “Inside. Where it counts. You are strong.”

We don’t talk again. He leads me through a labyrinth of dark rooms until we reach what I dub Eugene’s Mad Scientist Lab. Eugene bends over a keyboard, furiously typing. He’s oblivious to the fact that we’ve entered. There’s a large circle platform in the middle of the room surrounded by five poles. The rounded tops of the poles sizzle with something that looks like green electricity. Or lightning.

If Eugene starts to chant
it’s alive,
I swear I’ll bolt.

Darnell points to a counter piled with electronic equipment. “Duck back there.” I nod and do as I’m told, pulling my knees to my chest. Then Darnell steps in front of me like a body-guard. I can’t see around him, and no one will be able to see me. The door creaks and Michael and Lark stroll in together. I can hear their voices, but they’re speaking so quietly, I can’t make out the words.

“Are you truly ready for this?” Darnell’s tone rumbles like thunder before a strong storm. I feel like the question is meant as a last out for me.

Michael’s voice is closer now. “As ready as I can be.”

“Great.” Eugene finally acknowledges that other people are in the room. “Go on up and stand in the very center.” A pause. “Just a few inches to the left. One more step over. Perfect. Now whatever you do, don’t move.”

“Will it hurt?” Michael asks.

Lark’s voice overtakes whatever Eugene was going to say. “I still don’t think this is wise.”

Eugene must flip a switch, because the poles begin to hum at a level that would make dogs whimper and opera singers cringe. A flash of light fills the room, zapping from the top of one poll to another. Energy surges through the room. I brace my hands on the floor.

“Here we go.” Eugene sounds excited.

The words serve as a code to Darnell. In a quick movement, he turns and grabs my arm. Hauling me to my feet, he flings me into the center of the circle with Michael.

Taken by surprise, I crash into Michael, and he turns to catch me. “Gabby! No. What are you—? Why are you—?” The expression on his face cuts to my core. Confusion. Anger. Betrayal.

“Now!” Eugene yells.

I toss my arms around Michael’s middle, snaking them underneath the backpack he wears. Press my ear into his warm chest. Hear his racing heart. He tries to push me away, but I hold fast. A sliver of light slices through us, shooting pain into every nerve. We both shriek, clinging to each other for support. My nails bite his back. His fingers dig into my shoulders. A bright flash blinds me.

Then the room disappears.

Darkness cloaks us, momentarily blocking out sound, smells, everything. My muscles shake. We hit hard-packed ground and roll together. Spots dance in my vision. As we come to a stop, I land on top of Michael. Air whooshes from his lungs, and he shoves me off him. I scramble to get on my hands and knees, coughing. I press my palm to my chest, where a deep burning sensation intensifies.

Michael slowly sits up, but then he hunches over, grabbing at his stomach. He dry heaves for a minute. The sound rips through me, propelling me forward. Ignoring the pain hitching in my side, I crawl over and rub his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Without turning around, he pushes me away. “Don’t touch me.”

“But—”

He tries to stand, to pace away from me, but he trips over a log. Barely catching himself, he comes down hard on his elbows, his head drooping.

“Michael.” My voice comes out soft, like I’m speaking to a scared, snarling dog. One hand extended, I step toward him. Twigs snap under my feet, crackling in the night air. The noise sets off a round of hooting from unseen owls. Where are we? Did Eugene work his machine correctly? Are we back on the original mission, or did he send us somewhere else? A shiver works its way up my spine.

Michael rises before I can reach him—help him. He turns on me, fists clenched and nostrils flaring. “I’m serious, Gabby. Leave me alone.”

I lift my hands but let them fall back to my sides. “I’m sorry.”

He adjusts the straps to his backpack, strides ten feet away from me, then circles back, finger pointing. “Know what? You’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done it.”

Nausea prickles my throat, and the backs of my eyes burn. “Michael—”

“No. You forfeited your right to speak when you lied to me.” He stalks closer, but stops a few feet away. Then he turns to the side and rubs the back of his neck. It’s like he can’t stay still.

My head spins. Lie? I would never lie to him. “I didn’t—”

“You stood there last night. You
heard
when I came to your room. Heard what I said.” There’s a growl in his voice that I’ve never heard before. “Well, didn’t you?”

It feels like there’s a fist in my throat. I try to swallow, to speak. But I know my voice will waver. Instead I nod, slowly.

“So either you listened, basically laughing at me, because you
knew
you were going to come. Or you heard all that and still came. Knowing I didn’t want you to.” His hands move in jerks as he speaks. “Which is it?”

My mouth goes dry. “Don’t be like this.”

“Why not? Oh, sure, you’d love it if someone double crossed you.”

I should be compassionate. He’s clearly upset. But I’m not about to let him accuse me of betraying him. Not when I just want to be with him.

Dad always warns me that my Spanish temper gets me into trouble. Grinding my teeth, I square my shoulders. “Double crossed? Are you kidding me?”

Michael sighs and I see his stance relax. The fight’s draining from him. “We were supposed to be friends.”

“Oh, and that’s why you wanted to leave me behind.”

“Never mind. I was better off alone. I shouldn’t have allowed myself…” He just laughs, once, clipped.

“We are friends,” I whisper and try to catch his gaze. But he avoids me.

Fingers to his lips, he shakes his head. “If we were, you would have told me the truth last night. We could have talked it out. Come to some sort of compromise. But go behind my back?” He works his jaw back and forth. “No. We’re not friends.”

His words make me flinch. I want to argue. Fall on my knees and plead with him. But the dead look in his eyes tells me the conversation is over. He trudges away from me and lumbers through a grove of trees, alerting every creature in a half-mile radius to our presence.

Right before he disappears from my vision, he clears his throat. “Well, are you coming? Or are you going it alone on this one? Pretty sure there are a lot of wild animals in these parts.”

 Why does he have to be so touchy?  I growl. Then I storm after him.

We walk side by side for a while. Pine needles muffle our footsteps. The sound of water churns in the distance. My vision bounces to Michael’s face. I can’t help it. But his stays trained right ahead. As if I’m not even there. He keeps taking deep breaths.

It hits me then. I’ve ruined everything. The winks and the way he’d find me across a crowded room. His constant teasing and that ready laugh. It’s all gone. I killed it.

Maybe Michael was right about Eugene. Perhaps he is crazy. Why did I listen to him? Why did I allow him to say things to me as if they meant anything? Was I that starved for someone to see something important about me? Something worthwhile? I cringe. I’m stupid. Rash and dangerous, just like Lark and Donovan said.

My eyes dart to Michael’s profile. I’ve lost the one good thing about this whole shifting mess. His good opinion. No, I’ve lost more than that—
him
.

If justice existed, Nicholas would shift me right now. I don’t even care where to. The ideas are endless. For a start, how about he tosses me into the midst of a mine field? The belly of some giant whale might be nice. Or Mars. Honestly, he can have his pick.

Adrift in my thoughts, I’m not paying attention. My toe catches on a rock, and I pitch forward. Michael’s firm hand grabs my upper arm, jerking me back so I don’t fall. Just as quickly, he lets go.

I run my fingers over the warm spot on my arm. “Thanks.”

“Be more careful.”

We come to a clearing, and Michael makes his way to a grassy knoll overlooking a large river. Yanking off his backpack, he drops it to the ground. Next, he lowers himself to the grass. Slowly, as if his joints hurt. “Well, at least we know Eugene brought us to the right spot.” He juts his chin to indicate the body of water. “The mighty Mississippi. Welcome to Tennessee.”

Besides the dirt embankments littered with soldiers on either side, the Mississippi River looks like Chicago during rush hour—a flurry of stilled activity. Riverboats churn past each other in the black water, a steady slap ... slap ... slap. The lanterns onboard radiate light so brightly that they look like slow-moving behemoths, swimming through the water with their backs on fire. Some heave loads that cause them to list. Others seem determined to reach their destination first at any cost. Their chimneys puff up coal-laden smoke. Covering my mouth, I cough. The air tastes of cigarettes and fish.

I sit a few inches away from Michael. “So this is Memphis, huh?”

He scrutinizes the bustling harbor. “Yeah, not quite the same as in our time, but it’s a pretty significant place during the Civil War.” The light from the river traffic illuminates his serious expression.

One smile, would that be so hard? I nudge him with my shoulder. “Hey, you don’t need to look so grim. I might not be amazing at history, but I do know the North wins.”

Releasing a long burst of air, Michael shoves at his backpack. “That’s just it. If you—if
we
mess up. If Shifters fail on our missions, then the South could win. Nothing has to end up how it was when you left.” He runs his hand through his hair, and strands scatter across his forehead. “You could die out here, Gabby. I’m not kidding. Don’t you understand that?”

His voice is so panicked, and his eyes wide and roving. He looks like he’s been up for nights on end, pulling his hair out. My muscles burn to hug him—to take some of the tension from his shoulders. I’d reach out for his hand if I knew he wouldn’t pull away.

I settle on speaking in a calm voice. “I’m not concerned about that.”

Finally facing me, his lips curl into a sneer. “Not afraid of dying?”

“No, I’m terrified of that.” Might as well risk everything. I lay my hand on his knee. “But I’m not nervous because I’m with you. You promised you’d protect me on our first mission together, didn’t you?”

Uprooting wads of grass from the earth, he bunches the pieces in his hand and lets them sail upon the breeze. At least he doesn’t jerk away from my touch. “I shouldn’t have said that. I can’t protect you. I can’t protect anyone.”

“I don’t believe that. Not for a second.”

“Well, you should.” Now he moves his knee. My hand drops to the cold ground. He rises, crosses his arms. Watches the river like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “People die around me.”

What do I say to that? Really, beyond the last week or so, I don’t know him. Well, his history at least. If I think about it, he hasn’t shared much. Not that I have either, so no blame there. You don’t shake someone’s hand and ask for their life story. Still, I may not know
about
Michael, but I do know what
kind
of person he is. Maybe people have been killed on his watch, but in this line of work, I can’t image that not happening. The Michael I know did everything in his power to save them. I feel that truth to the core of me.

Didn’t he warn me once not to consider him a hero? Impossible.

Moving his weight from one foot to the other, he pivots to look at me. “The first real mission I went on was with my father. He was the Shifter out of my parents. A great one. We were dropped on this battleship.” His eyes snap shut.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I do if you’re going to understand.” Crouching beside me, he raises his eyebrows. “It was the Battle of the Komandorski Islands. There was fog everywhere. We couldn’t even make out the enemy ship. He didn’t want me to leave his side. I was a scrawny kid. Every hit the ship took threw me to the floor. The firestorm came. Cannons tore the sky apart. If I hadn’t been there ... if he hadn’t been so worried about keeping an eye on me—he would have been paying attention. But he wasn’t. And now he’s gone.”

Watched his father die in front of him? Blown to bits? My stomach churns. An apology burns in my throat, but it tastes hollow. I didn’t know his father or what he meant to Michael. Tears swim in my eyes. “You were just a kid. It’s wasn’t your fault.”

He snatches a rock from the ground and turns it over in his hand. “Believe me, it was.”

I refuse to take in his words. “Just because you were there?” That’s what he’s worried about. “So don’t worry about me. Okay? Let whatever happens, happen. I don’t want you distracted like that. Not because of me.”