Timescape (20 page)

“Jesse made them?”

“At least some of them,” Xander said. He spun around to face Keal directly. “We need to go back. There's so much he can teach us. They were building the house, but we didn't have time to see it. Can you imagine all they must know, Jesse, his dad, and his brother?”

“Not today, Xander,” Keal said. He looked at his watch. “School. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

“But,” Xander said.

“If,” David said.

“And,” Xander finished.

“I'm glad you guys are feeling better.” Keal stood and opened the hallway door. “Let's go.”

David groaned. “Isn't school almost over?”

“Barely started,” Keal said. “It's only eight thirty.”

David groaned again. “It feels like late afternoon. It was dark at the hospital. I got the sense it was early evening in the Viking world. And Jesse offered us his lunch. These portals mess with your mind.”

“Your biorhythms,” Keal said. “Your body clock. Extreme jet lag.”

“Whatever you call it,” David said, “I don't like it.”

“Plus everything else,” Xander said. “What we do in the worlds: run, fight, get scared to death every two minutes. Then every time I go through a portal, I feel like I did an hour of exercise. How about a nap, just a short one?”

“Nope,” Keal said.

The wind blew in from under the door. It scrubbed the boys of dirt and leaves that belonged back in young Jesse's time.

“Whoa,” Xander said. He swiveled on the floor and slid into the portal door, cracking his hip hard enough for David to hear it. He pushed away. Dropping onto his back, he planted his feet on the door and pushed. He spun sideways and flew into the door again.

David hopped up and grabbed one of Xander's ankles. Keal grabbed the other. They pulled his legs away from the door and backed toward the hallway. David could feel the pull on his brother. His pants were riding high now, as though they were going to rip apart and sail over his head.

“What do you have?” David said.

“I don't know!”

One of Xander's front pockets pulled out, poking from his jeans like a dog's ear. The candy Jesse had tossed him popped out, skidded across the floor, and jammed into the crack under the door. It crunched and broke and disappeared.

David and Keal dropped his legs.

“See?” David said.

Xander got up, tugging down on his pants. He shifted uncomfortably and grimaced at David. “Time just gave me a wedgie.”

CHAPTER
forty - two

THURSDAY, 11:55 A.M

David sat in the cafeteria, staring down at his hot-lunch tray. The wedge of pizza was crusty, burned, and cold. He thought the goop in a paper cup was rice pudding. The salad looked okay, but he couldn't eat it. He was hungry, but the image of the berserker chowing down on that guy and the memory of that rancid breath in his face kept popping up every few minutes. He'd been doing a pretty good job of keeping his mind on meeting young Jesse and suppressing everything else: Jesse in the hospital, the destroyed future and the creatures from that time, the
Titanic
. . .
Mom
! But that berserker—man, that haunted him.

Between physical exhaustion and too many memories and emotions to manage, he wasn't worth anything today. He had made it to school in time for his second-period class, algebra, and then to Ancient Civilizations (was his taking
that
a cosmic joke or what?), but he couldn't remember one word the teachers had said. He had walked through the halls like a zombie.

He hoped it was the fatigue and stress making him this way. It had crossed his mind that next to everything he did at home and in the worlds, ordinary life was just plain boring. Then he reminded himself that living in a constant state of fear, having more than one brush with death a day, and his mother being kidnapped were not exciting. Adrenaline inducing? Yes. But fun? Not by a long shot.

All he wanted was Mom back.

Give us Mom back,
he thought,
and I'll study hard, never miss a class, become an accountant or some other ho-hum guy, and never, ever complain about being bored. Promise.

“David!”

He snapped his head up. “Huh?”

Ben, Marcus, and Anthony laughed.

“See?” Ben said. “He wasn't sleeping.”

“You yelled in his ear,” Marcus countered. “Were you sleeping, David?”

Anthony said, “ 'Cause we've been talking to you for like ten minutes, and you didn't even nod your head.”

“I think he groaned once,” Ben said.

“I'm telling you,” Marcus said, “that was a snore.”

“Anthony said you wear girls' panties,” Ben said.

They all laughed.

“Pink ones,” Anthony said, snorting, “with pictures of Barbie dolls on them!”

“That's when we knew you were
out
,” Marcus said.

“Not sleeping,” Ben said. “Just out. The lights were on, but nobody was home.”

“No, sleeping,” Marcus said. “Right?” He pointed at the pizza. “Are you going to eat that?”

David handed it to him. “Sorry, guys,” he said. “I'm just tired, and . . .” He wanted to offer something to explain. “And my uncle's in the hospital.”

Ben said, “Oh, man.”

“Is he all right?” Marcus said.

Anthony slapped Marcus's shoulder. “He's in the
hos-pi-tal
! What do you think?”

“I meant, is he
going
to be all right? David knew what I meant.”

“Are you close?” Anthony asked David.

“He lives in Chicago,” David said. Not a lie, exactly.

“No . . .
close
. Are you like friends, buddies?”

David smiled. “Yeah, I like him. A
lot
.”

“What's he in for?” Ben said.

“That sounds like he's in prison,” Marcus said.

“He got mugged,” David said.
There it is: a lie. See what happens when you open your mouth?
“They beat him up pretty badly.”

“Is he going to make it?” Anthony asked.

David shrugged. He looked down at the moldering rice pudding.

The guys mumbled among themselves. David didn't listen, and he didn't look up when they scraped their chairs back and picked up their trays. Someone tapped his arm. It was Anthony.

“Sorry about your uncle, man. So you're probably not up for some football, huh? We throw it around at lunch.”

“Nah, not today. Thanks, though.”

David watched them take their trays to the trash, dump them, and put them on a stack. He got up and did the same. In the hall, he turned toward his locker. Fourth period. What was it? For the life of him, he couldn't remember. Well, it was only the fourth day of classes. Even kids without David's level of extracurricular activity didn't memorize their schedule this quickly, right? Language arts! That was it. See? He was okay.

He went around a corner and found himself face-to-face with Clayton, the bully who'd followed him through locker 119 to the linen closet in their house. To keep him quiet, David had threatened him.

Clayton's skin color changed before David's eyes, as though all the blood in his head was draining out. Clayton lowered his head, spun around, and tromped off.

Wow
, David thought. His threats hadn't been
that
awful, had they? He'd said he would post pictures of Clayton crying like a baby on the Internet and that he'd return him to the locker, where he couldn't escape. That one was kind of scary. Or maybe it was just that David's family lived in a freaky home that teleported people through space—that could be enough to make Clayton keep his distance. David had started thinking of the locker portal as no big thing, at least compared to what the third-floor rooms did. But it
was
big. Huge. That alone made the house special . . .
creepy
.

“Hey,” David called. “Clayton!”

The kid walked faster. David hurried to catch up. Clayton turned into a classroom. David followed. It was empty, except for Clayton. He was standing behind the teacher's desk.

“Stay away from me,” Clayton said.

Boy, had things changed.

“Look,” David said. “About the other day . . .”

“Forget it,” Clayton said. “There was no other day, okay? Nothing happened. Just . . . just leave me alone.”

David felt sorry for him, sort of. He had never been a bully himself, and now he understood why. He didn't like putting this kind of fear in people. It made him feel small.

“I didn't mean to scare you,” David said. “I'm sorry.”

“Scare me?” Clayton laughed. “You? Don't flatter yourself.”

“Then . . . what's this about? You running from me?”

“I just don't want anything to do with you or your freaky witch-house or your creepy friends! You're still a little punk, don't think you're not.”

David nodded. He turned to leave, then stopped. He pushed the door closed and stepped closer to Clayton. “What creepy friends?”

“Just . . . all of them.”

“Clayton,” David said, “who are you talking about?”

“Get out of here,” Clayton said. “Go on, get out of here.

Let me alone.”

“Did someone threaten you? Besides me, I mean.”

“You call your little yips
threats
? You don't—”

“Clayton!” David slid into the desk seat beside him.

“What are you doing?” Clayton said.

“Talking.”

“Not to me, you aren't. If you want to stay, fine.” He started around the desk.

“Wait,” David said. “Let me tell you something.”

Clayton stopped. “What?” he said through gritted teeth.

“There's a man,” David said. “His name is Taksidian.”

Clayton's eyes widened. He turned his head toward the window.

Looking for something,
David thought.
For someone.

Clayton took a step back. “I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know any Taks-whatever.”

“He's a really, really bad guy,” David said. “The worst person ever. I think you know that. But, Clayton, he's not a friend of mine. He wants our house. He'll do anything to get it. He's hurt my family. He's hurt us bad.”

Clayton blinked. His hard features softened, just a little.

“He's still hurting us. And he wants to hurt a lot of people. Not just my family.”

Clayton examined his shoes. He said, “What's your point?”

“One: It's not me or my family you should stay away from, it's him. Hate us, if you want to. Never talk to me again, if it makes you feel better. But stay away from Taksidian. For your sake, stay away from him.”

Clayton rocked between his left and right feet. He said, “What's number two?”

“Two.” David cleared his throat. “If there's anything you can do to help us, if you know anything about him that will help us put him away, you'd be helping more than my family. You'd be helping more people than you can imagine. I'm not kidding. I know you don't like me. You want to pound me. I get that. But would it really make you happy if I died? If my whole family died? If a lot of people died?”

Guilt, shame—something like that—touched Clayton's face.

He gave David a one-shoulder shrug. He whispered, “I don't want that.”

“Please,” David said. “If you can, help us.”

Clayton studied the floor tiles. His eyes flashed up to David, then lowered again. They were silent for five, ten seconds—an eternity after that conversation. The wall clock ticked, ticked.

Keeping his gaze on the floor, Clayton walked for the door. As he passed David, he said, “I'll think about it.”

David looked down at the desk. Kids had etched words into its surface: NICHO LAS . . . ALLISON +SCOTT . . . MR.

REED STINKS. He heard the door open, then click shut.

If Clayton told anyone—his parents, cops—what David had said, would it cause trouble? He didn't think so. Even if he told Taksidian, what more harm could Taksidian do? He hoped that if nothing else, this would make Clayton stay away from Taksidian. Just as he knew Clayton didn't wish serious hurt on David, David didn't want him hurt either. And hurt was what Taksidian was all about.

CHAPTER
forty - three

THURSDAY, 3:07 P.M

David closed his locker and saw Xander heading for him, weaving around kids. He pushed his backpack strap over his shoulder. “Xander, what's—?”

Xander grabbed his arm. He turned around and pulled David back the way he'd come. “Follow me.” He released his grip.

“What's up?” David said.

Xander said nothing, just walked.

“Xander,” David said. “What's going on?”

“He's here.”

“Who?”

Xander stopped, turned, and whispered, “Taksidian.”

David's throat tightened. “Where?” He looked up and down the hall, out the window that ran the length of the hall, opposite the lockers and classrooms. Cars were circling through the pickup lanes. People moving everywhere.

“Come on,” Xander said. “He's been here awhile. I saw him before my last class.”

They reached the end of the hall. Turning left would take them into another short corridor. It was the home of locker 119—the one that teleported people to the Kings' linen closet. Straight ahead were the double doors that opened into the cafeteria.

Xander grabbed David's arm again and led him to the corner, where the windows met the cafeteria wall.

“Okay,” Xander said. “Look.” He pointed, keeping his hand close to his chest.

“Where?”

The school was L-shaped. The administrative offices occupied the end of the shorter wing. Looking diagonally across the courtyard, David could see Dad's office windows. A driveway ran past the end of that wing to another parking lot behind the admin offices. Across the drive from the offices was another, smaller building. David thought the school used it for storage. It was also where the auto shop classes were held. It had a big roll-up door.