The Edge of Forever (2 page)

When it seems like my lungs are about to burst, I emerge in 2076. I blink and wait for time to refocus. The past is bright and alive. Noise floods my senses. Colors swirl. And the smell . . . the dust and decay from moments before is replaced with something musky. It reminds me of the old books I saw once at the Academy’s museum. I stand perfectly still, forcing myself to breathe slowly.

My teammates stand frozen as usual. I’m not sure why we’re always so quiet after shifting. It’s not like the people in the past can hear us. In addition to keeping us hidden, our cloaks mask any sounds we make. Well, stuff like talking and coughing. Nothing we can do about our footsteps or running into objects. Something I figured out fast when I wasn’t paying attention and slammed into a glass door on a previous time trip. It scared a woman who was standing nearby.

“This is your last chance to ask any questions,” Professor March says. He pauses to peer at each of us. When nobody answers, he replies, “Good, a prepared team . . .”

“Don’t screw up,” we finish.

Professor March laughs. “Exactly. Okay then, if you don’t have any questions, let’s head out.”

As we step away from the now-intact wall and cross the shiny marble floor, I can’t help but check out the place. It’s so different from our time. Fancy portraits line the walls. I have to tilt my head up to see the top of the dome hovering above us. There were holograms in my mission schematics, but they can’t replace actually being here. It’s amazing. A few people are talking in excited tones. I’m surprised they’re even in here. I’d figured everyone would be outside.

One of my teammates, Zed, lets out a low whistle as we pass two women. “Damn. Now I’d like to observe
them
for a while.”

Vika shoots a withering look at him. “Really Zed? You shouldn’t be looking at them like that.”

“Why not? It’s not like they can hear me. And they’d probably be flattered if they could.”

“It doesn’t matter if they can’t hear your stupid comments,” she says, rolling her eyes. “It’s rude. Besides, not every female finds you irresistible.”

“They don’t?” Zed asks in mock anguish. He runs his pale hands through his black hair. “Methinks I must try harder.”

Another teammate, Elijah, lets out a snort-laugh. “Man, if they could see your scrawny butt they’d die laughing. Now if they saw me, that’d be a different story.” He flexes his muscles to prove his point and grins. His teeth flash in contrast to his dark skin. I might be laughing along with Zed and Elijah, but I’m surprised at how irritated I am. Zed always makes comments like that. But the people in here—and all the people we’re about to see—are dead. Ghosts. Whistling at ghosts is messed up.

But what can I say? They’re my best friends.

“Settle down, cadets. Focus on the mission,” Professor March says with a scowl.

Outside, the landscape is transformed. The crumbling buildings are intact. Red, white, and blue streamers and flags are suspended from every structure. The whole area is packed with people. A man’s voice rings out over the speakers, singing the old national anthem. My mouth parts, and I quickly snap it shut. No need to act like a starry-eyed newbie even though this is the biggest event we’ve been allowed to record. I’ve seen the old news feed records from this time period. But they didn’t prepare me for this. For actually being here.

I try not to gag when we enter the thick of the crowd. I don’t know what it is about people in the past. They always have this strange, stale scent clinging to them. The closer we get to the stage set up in front of the Old Civic Center Building, the more we have to push through the ghosts.

“We’re almost there,” Professor March calls out.

Ahead, I can make out Cayhill and his team climbing the stairs leading up to the stage. They get to record President Foster’s death up close. Cayhill’s team always gets the best assignments.

We’re stuck recording from the audience.

The DTA says crowd shots are important. They give the consumers in our time the “authentic feeling” of being in the past. If the footage recorded today is good enough, DTA techs will splice all of it together to make a more impressive experience for participants of the History Alive Network. Or for those who enter a Sim Game. All they have to do is sit on their asses and pop on a pair of Virtual Lenses. Then they get to pretend they’re here. Minus all the work.

“Time to pair up with your partners and assume your positions,” Professor March says once we reach our break-off point. “And don’t forget to activate your comm-sets once you’re there.”

Zed squeezes past me and glances at Vika, snickering. “You two lovebirds better behave.”

He joins his partner, and they melt into the crowd. Elijah and his partner follow suit.

“Problems?” Professor March asks.

“No, sir,” I reply.

Vika just gives him a tight-lipped smile.

“Excellent. I think I’ll observe you two first since I have a feeling I’m going to be needed elsewhere soon.” He casts a weary look in Zed’s direction.

Vika’s fingers wrap around mine, and she leads me away. When we’re far enough from Professor March, she whispers, “Are you sure everything’s all right?”

I give her a quick nod. “I already told you everything’s fine.”

“Okay, but remember, I’ve got your back. Always.” She gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

I squeeze her hand back before we separate and activate our comm-sets. I begin to scan the area for other Time Benders. At first nothing shows, but then a light blinks in the corner of my lens. The outline of a body flashes white. That indicates a cloaked Time Bender standing in the distance. Since frequencies are changed every few months, our comm-sets won’t be able to penetrate the cloak. “I’ve got one Unknown to my left, approximately sixty-four feet away,” I say, reading the info flashing across the bottom of my lens.

“None here,” Vika says.

I continue to scan the area, but I still wonder about the Unknown. I wonder what year he or she is from. We run across them on occasion on our time trips. The DTA rarely overlaps visits to the same time. That doesn’t mean someone from our future couldn’t be here. I almost wish I could talk to the Unknown, but that’s forbidden. It could contaminate whatever point in the timeline they’re from.

“Let’s begin phase two,” Vika says after another minute.

“Be careful,” I reply as a man bumps into me. It’s a little unnerving being here. There are so many people around us.

We spread out and observe the audience while our comm-sets record. The excitement in the air is contagious. The void inside me doesn’t feel as empty now.

The singer finishes and a large man dressed in a black suit hurries across the stage. A hush settles over the crowd as they await the main event.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention. I would like to present President Kathleen Foster.”

Frenzied cheers erupt when a slender, red-haired woman in a dark blue dress emerges from the Civic Center and steps up to the stage. She waves both hands and flashes a brilliant smile. It’s easy to see why the country loved her. I wonder for a moment what would’ve happened to the country if she didn’t die today. How different things would be now.

Vika’s voice crystallizes in my ear. “I’m going to move a little closer to the stage.”

“Don’t go too far,” I reply. Exiting our parameters will result in points being deducted from our grade.

“I just want to get some better footage. You know I like to live on the edge,” she says, flashing me a smile.

Professor March cuts in. “I need to check in with the others. Maintain position and watch each other’s backs. You’re doing great so far.”

He threads his way through the crowd, toward Zed’s area.

I return my attention to the stage. President Foster’s voice is almost hypnotic as she speaks. Yeah, I could definitely trust her if I lived in this time. I glance at the info screen on my DataLink.

It’s 9:17.

She’ll be dead in less than five minutes.

My stomach clenches. I don’t know why I’m feeling like this. She’s a ghost. She’s already dead. All these people are dead.

Just like my dad.

The familiar lump swells in my throat. I try to swallow it back down.

“Have you taken any rear crowd shots?” Vika asks.

I haven’t. I’ve been too busy watching the woman who’s about to die. I swivel around and record the sea of eager faces, drinking in the president’s shiny words of encouragement. Then I turn back toward the stage.

I spot another Unknown about thirty feet away. I wonder if it’s the same one from before. But then the cloak wavers, revealing a male of medium height and build—like me. His brown hair is lighter than mine. He’s dressed in a gray jumpsuit.

My heart feels like it’s stopped.

“Dad,” I whisper. No, it can’t be him. I blink a few times, expecting to see nothing but a bunch of dead people. But he’s still there, staring at me. Then he turns and slips through an opening in the crowd.

“No!” I yell, taking off after him. “Dad, wait!”

“What are you doing?” Vika asks. “You’re not supposed to leave!”

I ignore her. I have to get to Dad. I have to find him before I lose him again.

A small part of me knows I’m sabotaging my grade, but I don’t care. I shove my way through the crowd and concentrate on the back of Dad’s head. He suddenly stops and whirls around.

I’m maybe five feet away when he says something.

“What?” I call out.

“Save Alora, son.”

Then he vanishes.

My eyes dart around. Where did he go? Did he shift back to whatever point in time he came from? Why was he even here? And who is Alora?

My breath comes out in ragged gasps. I spin around, searching for him. He has to be here somewhere.

He
has
to be.

A popping noise sounds, followed by another. President Foster’s speech stops. I twist around as she sinks to the floor. Screams shatter the stunned silence.

Chaos erupts as people try to get away, which is pretty much impossible.

I remember Vika is alone.

A chill crawls over my skin as I search through the crowd for her. I don’t see her. “Vika, where are you?” I yell.

She doesn’t answer.

It seems like an eternity of me shoving against people trying to flee the stage area. I glance up at the stage. Ghosts surround President Foster. A few of Cayhill’s cadets squeeze around them, getting close-up shots of the president.

But there’s something going on near the stage. I make my way over there, nausea rolling inside me. A few people are pointing at the ground. A woman moves to the side, and I finally see what’s happened.

Vika is lying on the ground, unmoving.

“No.
No
.” I push my way through, my mind racing. Why did I let her go closer to the stage? I should have stopped her. Everyone closest to the president would have been even more frantic to get away after the shots were fired.

Then I realize something else. Ghosts were looking at her. Her cloak has been deactivated.

I keep moving, but before I get to her, I notice a shimmer floating over her.

An Unknown.

Icy fear rips through my body.

By the time I get to Vika, the cloaked Time Bender is gone. I kneel and pull her crumpled body close. I don’t even care that a few ghosts are still gawking at her. “Vika! Can you hear me? Wake up!”

Professor March arrives. “What happened, Bridger?”

I think of Dad’s appearance. The message he gave me. Did it really happen? Or did I imagine the whole thing?

“I don’t know,” I say, looking back at Vika. Her broken comm-set lies next to her head. Blood trickles out of her nose. Her face is scratched. And she’s so still.

Professor March gives me a hard stare as he searches for her pulse.

My heart is about to burst from my chest. Please let her be okay.

Please.

Professor March’s eyes widen. He presses the all-call button on his comm-set and shouts, “Emergency shift! I repeat, emergency shift!”

2

ALORA

APRIL 8, 2013

T
he steady noise filling the cafeteria fades away as a picture forms in my mind—an image of a man with bloodstained hands and two women. One with blonde hair several shades lighter than mine, and one with hair as dark as the midnight sky. My chest tightens. I dreamed about them last night, just like I have for years. The man is my father, and the only reason I know that is because of the pictures Aunt Grace has of him. I wonder if one of the women is my mother. I don’t have a clue. Aunt Grace doesn’t have any pictures of her.

Yeah, I know that’s weird, but I’ve been living with Aunt Grace since I was little. I have a few hazy memories from before then, but not much. Flashes of me running in a wooded area. The smell of lavender as my mom would tuck me into bed at night. Little things that don’t tell me anything.

And I’m pretty sure I used to live in a big city. Sometimes I get these images of tall buildings that seem to touch the sky, as if I’m in the midst of them looking up. Now this backwoods town is home, including all the small-minded people who inhabit it. Anyone who deviates from their idea of normal is considered too weird to associate with.

Lucky me.

“Earth to Alora. Are you even listening to me?”

A hand waves in front of my face, and I blink several times before turning to my best friend, Sela. “Sorry. What did you say?”

The two girls sitting across from us, Sela’s new friends, laugh in a high-pitched twittering that makes me want to stab my ears. Or them.

“Are you okay? You’re acting weird,” she says.

For an instant, I consider telling her about the dream, but I change my mind. There’s no point because I can’t remember any details. “I’m okay. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

That’s close enough to the truth. On the nights I dream about my dad and the mystery ladies, I always wake up with a feeling of dread. Of course, sleep is impossible afterward.

“Right,” Sela drawls. She takes a bite of her salad before continuing. “Anyway, I asked if you wanted to practice with us this afternoon. Jess and Miranda decided to try out for the squad too, so I thought we could all work on some cheers together.”