Rewinder

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I’ve visited the tavern so many times now, it almost seems like a homecoming when I arrive once more in 1775.

This time, I hide behind the wagon closest to the tavern. Three minutes later, the version of me that was here just over an hour ago in my personal timeline sneaks up behind the other wagon, intending to stop the even earlier version of me from causing the twelve-second delay.

I move in behind him. As I know will happen, he looks over his shoulder in anticipation. When he sees me, he smiles.

“They believed you?” he asks.

I nod.

“What about Ellie and Mom?”

I look to the woods where I left my sister and let him draw his own conclusions, quite literally fooling myself.

With a satisfied smile, he pulls out his Chaser and hands it to me. I enter the time and location for the same point in 2015 I jumped to after escaping the institute storeroom near the stables.

I hand the device back to him. “All set. Good luck.”

“To you, too,” he says, then hits the GO button, and disappears.

The theory is that he will bond with me in transit. In truth, I’m unsure what’s going to happen to him. I certainly don’t feel any different.

I wait until the original Other Me arrives in the field and heads, unhindered, for the tavern door. I don’t dwell on the time mechanics behind the fact that I’ve not only stopped the mistake from happening, but now will stop myself from correcting the error. Going down that road is a sure path to insanity.

After Other Me is inside the tavern, where he’ll delay Cahill, I hurry across the field into the copse of trees where I left Ellie. For her, it has been less than ten minutes since I left, but for me, it seems as if we’ve been separated a lifetime.

She’s lying on the ground, sound asleep.

I want to wake her, tell her what I’ve done, let her know she’s going to be all right, but there will be time enough for talk later. The truth is, she’s not all right yet.

I start to crouch beside her, but remember there’s something I should do first. I reattach the companion connections on my Chaser. I don’t know if it will reconnect with Iffy, but if it does, at least she’ll know I’m on the way.

I hug Ellie like I did before and place my thumb on the GO button.

“Last trip,” I whisper to her and press down.

I hoped the Chaser would link with Iffy, but Ellie and I are traveling rudderless. The last time that happened, I was on this same trip and ended up in the hospital for four days. This time, I’m not taking it in a straight shot but three hops. So I don’t throw up on arrival, but I am crippled by temporary agony.

Once the pain lessens enough, I take a look around.

I thought I set my location to the alley behind the building near Iffy’s house that I’d used before, but we’re in the middle of a park. Kids are running around on a playground several hundred feet away, while adults are sitting on benches, watching them. It’s a wonder they didn’t see Ellie’s and my arrival.

I look at the Chaser to check the information I entered, but the screen is dark. I press the power button twice before it comes back on, indicating a power level of under one percent. Before I can check the location number, the device powers down again.

Ellie sags against me, and I have to grip her around her back to keep her from falling to the ground.

“Ellie?” I say.

No response.

I move her head a few inches and see that her eyes are shut and her face slack. I press my fingers against her neck and check her pulse. Not as strong as I would like, but at least she has one.

I carry her to a nearby bench and lay her down. “Ellie?” I say, rubbing her hand. “Can you hear me?”

I’m so focused on her that a female voice makes me jerk in surprise. “Is she all right?”

I glance over my shoulder and see a woman with a toddler propped on her hip looking at us, concerned.

“I don’t know.”

“Is she sick?”

I nod.

“You want me to call an ambulance?”

That’s exactly what needs to happen, I realize. “Please.”

Others gather around as we wait for the ambulance, a few asking questions.

“Who is she?”

“My sister.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s sick.”

“What is it? The flu?”

I pretend I don’t hear the question.

After a few moments, another person asks, “How old is she?”

I almost say fifteen, but that’s how old she was when she died. “Almost fourteen,” I tell them.

Ellie is still unconscious when two fire trucks and an ambulance pull up at the edge of the park. Several uniformed men hurry across the grass, two in front carrying plastic cases, and two trailing with something to transport Ellie.

“If we could get everyone to stand back, that would be a big help,” the first man to arrive says.

The crowd pulls back but doesn’t disperse.

The man crouches down next to me and puts his hand on Ellie’s wrist. On his sleeve is a patch that reads SAN DIEGO FIRE RESCUE.

This, more than anything, confirms we really made it.

“Sir, can you tell me what happened?” he asks.

“We were out for a walk and she collapsed,” I say.

“Any reason why that might have happened?”

“She’s been sick.”

“What kind of sick?”

“I…I…” I’m not sure how to respond. I think the disease that killed her is called cancer here, but I’d rather a doctor figure that out.

“It’s okay,” the man says. “Is she a friend?”

“My sister.”

“What’s her name?”

“Ellie.”

The man leans closer to her. “Ellie, can you hear me?” When she doesn’t move, he says, “Just hang tight. You’re doing fine. We’re going to check you out and get you some help.”

Another uniformed man puts a hand on my shoulder. “Sir, I need you to back away so we can get her on the gurney.”

“Oh, sure.”

I watch from several feet away as they work on her before moving her onto the bed. Once she’s secure, the man who asked me to move says, “Have you contacted your parents?”

I shake my head. I haven’t figured out how to handle that issue yet.

“You can tell them she’ll be at Scripps Mercy. I assume you’ll want to go with us?”

“Yes. Please.”

At the hospital, others join us as Ellie is wheeled inside. They get information from the firemen and begin examining her as we move through a hallway and into a room full of medical equipment.

It’s not long before I’m asked to step out. My instinct is to refuse, but I know I’ll only be in the way so I relocate to the hallway.

A woman dressed all in blue comes out after about thirty minutes. “You’re the brother?”

“Yes.”

“Are your parents on the way?”

“Our mother’s been dead for a while. And our father…just passed.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” She pauses long enough for me to believe she means it. “You’re the guardian, then?”

“Guardian?”

“You’re over eighteen?”

“Yes.”

“Are you the one in charge of your sister? Or is there another adult?”

Now I get it. “No other adult.”

“Okay. There’s some paperwork you’ll need to—”

Paperwork is out of the question. “How is she?”

“Still unconscious but stable. The EMT said you mentioned she was sick. Do you know what she has?”

After stumbling on the question when the fireman — EMT? — asked me, I thought of an answer on the way to the hospital. “I’m not sure. I know it’s not good.” I frown. “I haven’t been home for a while. Our father was taking care of her until…”

“He didn’t tell you what she has?”

“He and I didn’t really talk much.”

She studies me for a moment, a tinge of suspicion entering her eyes. “Can you at least tell me who her doctor is?”

“I can find out.”

“That would be helpful,” she says. “There’s a waiting room down the hall. Why don’t you go down there? Someone will come in a few minutes with the forms we need you to fill out.”

“Okay,” I say.

When I reach the waiting room, though, I pass right through it and follow the signs to the exit. As much as I want to stay with my sister, my presence here will only cause problems. I’ll figure out how to check on her later. For now, she’ll get the help she needs.

I almost expect to see Iffy sitting in Marilyn’s Prius at the curb, waiting for me. But neither Iffy nor the car is there.

Using the money I kept in my satchel for when I returned, I take a bus to her neighborhood. It’s nearing two p.m. when I finally turn onto her block. The first thing I notice as I approach her house is that the Prius is gone.

Maybe she did go to find me and we crossed paths. Or maybe she has no idea I’ve returned and headed back to Los Angeles, thinking my story about the end of her world was a lunatic’s fantasy.

I decide to check anyway.

A woman who has to be Iffy’s mother answers the door. The eyes, the nose, the cheeks — they’re the same as her daughter’s. It’s only their mouths that are different. Iffy has fuller lips that always seem one step away from a sly smile. Her mother’s are thin and cut a flat line below her nose.

“Yes?” the woman asks.

“Is Iffy around?”

“You just missed her. She left about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Do you know where she went?”

“I have no idea. Somewhere with her friend, I guess.”

“Friend?”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “I didn’t get your name.”

“I’m Denny.”

“Oh, you’re Denny,” she says as she reassesses me. “Hold on.”

She disappears inside, and returns a few seconds later with a slip of paper. “Her friend said to give you this. Said you’d know what it means.”

I take the paper from her. On it is written a time, four p.m., and a location number — a Chaser location number. I feel my skin go cold as I realize the handwriting matches that of the note Lidia gave me for the 1702 meeting.

I think back to the field as everyone was popping out to return to the institute, and realize I didn’t actually see Lidia leave.

The suspicion in her eyes — did she know I was lying and follow me somehow?

“They’ll be back at some point,” Iffy’s mom says. “I’d invite you in but I’m leaving to run errands soon, so…”

“It’s okay. I’ll find them.” I try to look as relaxed as possible, but that’s the last thing I feel.

As soon as she closes the door, I run down the street until I reach a small strip of land next to the road that’s been turned into a mini-park. A man is playing with his dog at the other end but the rest of the area is empty. I sit on a bench that faces the road and pull out my Chaser.

When I push the power button, nothing happens. It takes four more tries before the screen reluctantly comes to life. I bring up the location calculator and enter the number Lidia left for me. A map appears, pinpointing the spot. Unfortunately it’s a map of my old world, so I can see the spot is right on the beach but I can’t tell how it relates to this reality.

Making my best guess at the coordinates, I try to make the jump but the power shuts off again.

I swear under my breath, then jog over to the man with the dog. “Do you know the time?”

At the sound of my voice, the dog begins to run toward me.

“Jasper, come,” the man says.

The dog halts between us, its eyes on me.

When the man repeats, “Come,” Jasper returns to him. The owner then looks at his watch. “It’s 3:05.”

“Thanks.”

I have less than sixty minutes.

I don’t know what Lidia’s plans are, but I can guess.