Extracted

TWENTY-NINE

LEX

It is raining now, and I can’t help but feel like Mother Earth is urinating on the ruins of my home. The charred remains of our beloved Tower sit in a smoky, black heap on the lawn. It’s only a matter of time before that little game of hide and seek with the paradox ends on a bad note. I am afraid that it will catch up to us soon. The bubble of safety that once engulfed the Hollow Tower has failed. I can see it in the distance. A tall barbed wire fence has gone up around the grounds. Judging by the derelict signs hanging from it, it’s been there for some time. I wonder what part of time we have woken up in. Not that it matters now. What’s left is nothing but ruins.

Nobel and Sisson are busy trying to board up the remaining windows. They have already scrubbed any trace of our existence from the rooms inside. A wooden crate with a handful of junk in it is all that’s left now.

It’s hard to focus on anything. My thoughts are jumpy and frayed. I wish the girls would get back already. Knowing they’re safe would really go a long way toward making me feel better right now. The idea of losing them now—I can’t even let myself dwell on the possibility. Beside me, Ethan is carefully picking up chunks of debris and taking them to the bonfire Nobel has built. The wind blows the smoke across the front of the yard. It looks like something out of a horror movie.

I can’t believe the destruction. One of Nobel’s glass beakers lies broken in front of me. I stare at myself in the fractured beaker. There’s a new scratch on my cheek, and part of my eyebrow is missing. My left eye is black and blue, and almost swollen shut. I can’t imagine what the rest of me looks like. Not wanting to see myself anymore, I grab a rock and chuck it at the beaker, narrowly missing my target. I look away.

I stare into the nearby flames, letting their movement lull me. Moments later I hear the glass crack under someone’s foot, making me look up.

I am in such a daze for a minute that I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. But Ember and Stein are here, standing right in front of me. Jumping to my feet, I don’t know who to hug first, so I grab both girls I love and squeeze.

“You made it!” I say, unable to keep the relief out of my tone.

“What made you think we wouldn’t?” Ember asks, patting at her windblown mess of hair.

“Is it because we’re girls?” Stein asks with a smile.

“No, not at all. The time stream is crazy right now and I was just worried. That’s all,” I say.

“Well that’s cute,” Stein says. “I like it when you worry.”

We hug once more. It feels so good to have them back safe. I almost don’t let them go. Ember pulls away to meet Ethan, who is jogging toward us. I let her go but keep Stein tight to my chest.

“Hey,” Ethan says, grabbing her and spinning her around.

“Were you worried, too?”

“Nah. I know you can take care of yourself.”

She shakes her head. “Liar.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” he admits with a grin.

Stein takes off her backpack and carefully unwraps one of the last existing Doxes.

We all stare. This oversized lightbulb is going to be what makes things right.

“Hey, you got the instructions!” Ethan exclaims, reaching into her bag to pull out a worn leather journal.

“Hands off!” Stein yells, going zero to ten faster than I’ve ever seen. “Those aren’t the instructions! That’s mine!”

Ethan lets go of the book and pulls back as if he’s trying to dodge a striking snake.

“Uh, okay. Sorry.”

I raise my eyebrows and stare at her. She sees the question in my eyes and looks away, thrusting the unknown book deeper into her bag as if that will make it go away.

She looks at me and shakes her head. I know her well enough not to press, at least not right now. If we survive this, I’ll ask her about it later, in private.

“Here are the instructions,” Ember says, changing the subject. She holds out a disheveled paper with handwritten notes on it.

“Okay, great.”

“And here is the key,” Ethan announces.

“And if that isn’t the right one, here are all the other keys,” I say, emptying my pockets onto the steps like I’m trying to find the correct change for a chocolate bar. “Um, we’re going to need to put these back eventually. You know, unless the universe explodes. Then, no big deal.”

Ember reaches out slowly and takes the key—the key that will lock this paradox down forever—from Ethan’s hand.

“I didn’t think I would see this ever again,” she says.

She holds the key in the palm of her hand, following its ridges with her index finger as if she’s in some sort of trance.

“The instructions say we have to insert the key into the filament in the middle of the Dox,” Ember says, not looking up.

“How is that going to work?” Stein asks. “There’s no keyhole.”

“I guess we have to break the glass,” Ethan says.

“That’s the problem,” Ember replies. “The instructions have a warning that says it has to be done without breaking the glass.”

“That makes no sense,” I say. “There has to be a way. Here, let me see the Dox and the key.”

I take both items carefully. While I examine them, the Dox starts to hum and turn on. When I move the key away from the Dox it turns off. Frustrated, I put the key right up next to the Dox and watch intently. The humming starts, and the glass ripples like when a stone is thrown into a pond. I hold the key closer, and then the idea slams into my head. With all eyes on me, I slide the key through the ripple on the glass. It’s as if the Dox is letting the key inside.

“Don’t do it yet!” Ethan yells, half-scaring me to death.

“I wasn’t going to,” I say. I pull the key out and the glass portion of the Dox turns solid again.

“So that’s how we’ll get the key through the glass. Just push it through?” Stein asks.

“I guess so.”

“Well, there we have it,” I say. “The Dox should work this time. Let’s go put it in the vortex.” I point to the looming clouds in the distance.

“That’s the other thing,” Ember says. “The guidelines say, in order to have a successful closure of the paradox, we have to set it off at a Fixed Point in time.”

“Like the one you created with the key?” Ethan asks.

“Yeah. You think we can go back inside that loop?”

Ethan cringes. “Um, we kind of broke that one, I think.”

“The vortex appeared in Tesla,” I say, putting the pieces together. “We can’t go back inside that loop again. The paradox is already there. I think,” I’m hesitant to say the words aloud, “I think the paradox is eating time.”

“So, what? Is there another Fixed Point we can use?” Stein asks, looking at Ethan.

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Well, you went to school for this kind of thing, right?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest.

“I know when,” Ember says, the color fading from her cheeks. “The only other Fixed Point I know of.” She turns to me, putting a hand on my arm. “Lex, we have to go back to Ekaterinburg.”

“Ekaterinburg?” Ethan and Stein ask in unison.

I nod. “We have to go back to the night our family was killed.”