The Doomsday Code

CHAPTER 87

2001, New York

Sal watched the twisting, coiling outline of several figures, embracing one another. She thought she could make out a swaying field of yellow wheat or maize and a blue sky.

Then the figures, three of them, stepped closer and emerged a moment later into the archway.

She almost didn’t recognize two of them.

Bob’s fast-growing coconut hair was a shaggy, coarse, dark, wild bush. The other thing she immediately noticed was that his left arm was missing at the elbow … and one ear was gone.

‘Shadd-yah! Bob!’

But Liam … it was Liam; she almost could have passed him by in a street and not have recognized him. His dark hair had grown. Uncut for six months, it hung down on to his shoulders; parted scruffily in the middle, it draped either side of his face like dark theatre curtains. It was his wispy beard, however, that shocked her: a jaw lined with bristles, across his top lip a downy moustache, his mouth framed by a goatee.

‘Liam!’

Maddy balled a fist in her mouth. ‘Oh my God, Liam. You look …’ She didn’t know what to say.

‘Scruffy?’ He arched his thick eyebrows. ‘That the word you’re lookin’ for?’

He grinned and stepped over towards them, wrapping one arm round each of them, pulling them all together in a clumsy bear-hug. ‘Ahh, ’tis good to see ye, so it is!’

Maddy laughed. ‘You sound all funny.’

He let them both go and stood back. ‘Aye … ’tis the Old Anglish, so. I’ll be back to meself soon enough.’

‘Love your gear!’ said Sal, admiring his studded leather jerkin, cotton hose and boots.

‘Aye, they are well made.’

Maddy looked Bob over. ‘Bob, the arm … Can you be fixed up like Becks was?’

‘Affirmative. I will need the growth tube.’

She turned to the monitors. ‘Bob, can you set that up?’

› Affirmative, Maddy.

The cursor blinked for a moment, then skittered along.

› Welcome back, Bob and Becks.

Both support units silently acknowledged that with a wifi handshake.

‘Where’s that English fella … Adam?’ asked Liam.

‘He’s gone,’ said Maddy. ‘Gone back to his life.’

‘Was Adam Lewis realigned?’ asked Becks.

Maddy knew what she was asking: had he been outside when the last minor time wave came through? Was his memory wiped clean — was he Adam Lewis living a very different life? She decided to keep matters simple for now. After all … she trusted him, sort of. And even if he did decide to rush to the nearest newspaper with his fantastic story, who was going to believe him anyway? If he led a curious journalist back to the archway this time tomorrow … there’d be nothing to see, just a vacant archway beneath the Williamsburg Bridge.

‘Yeah … don’t worry, he’s aligned.’

Becks nodded, satisfied with the answer.

Liam clasped his hands together. ‘So … it’s been a long while since I had a nice hot shower.’

Maddy wrinkled her nose. ‘Uh-huh, we noticed. Why don’t you and Becks get changed into something less fancy-dress and head over to the drop-in centre shower block.’

Liam nodded. ‘Aye, sounds like a plan.’

‘And when you’re done, we’ll go out and get something to eat.’ She looked at Bob. ‘You too, we can growth-tube you afterwards if you’d like.’

Bob’s thick lips slowly stretched with what looked like something approaching a mischievous grin. ‘Aye, sounds like a plan.’

Maddy rolled her eyes and looked at Liam. ‘I see he’s growing a funny-bone too?’

Liam shrugged. ‘Right pair of jesters, so they are.’

Adam stood at the intersection of Bowery and Delancey Street, busy with this morning’s rush-hour traffic.

A new life … and he hadn’t the first clue what it was yet. His mobile phone was in his jacket pocket. Maybe Maddy was right. Maybe he should dial up Mum. Whatever new course his professional life had taken, she and dad were still likely living in their old bungalow in Chelmsford.

And what do I say, exactly? Hey, Mum, I’ve just come from another timeline … where am I living right now? Am I married? What job do I do? He chuckled at the thought of that.

But then he realized the cell probably wouldn’t work. Its contract would never have existed, the SIM card’s code number would be invalid.

A new life. And yet New York looked exactly the same as it did this time yesterday. He couldn’t quite believe his apartment would no longer be his, that Jerry, the security guard, wouldn’t have a clue who he was.

He looked to his left. The tall skyscrapers along Wall Street, the Twin Towers standing proud, thrusting into the cloudless sky. He pulled his Trade Center security pass out of his breast pocket and gazed at his passport photo: a daft grinning face above a crisp shirt and tie. If Maddy was right, this pass wasn’t even going to get him past Reception on his floor, let alone allow him to enter the IT room and his personal office.

And his apartment keys? He pulled them out and jangled them in one hand.

Somebody else’s home now.

He shook his head. It was too damned strange. Too weird. Standing here in a wholly unchanged world, unchanged except that Adam Lewis was living a very different life in it.

Mission Control to Adam: what if she made that up?

He didn’t believe Maddy Carter would. She seemed the genuine type.

OK, then, Adam. How about this? What if you just dreamed this all up? Eh? What if this has all been a hallucination? What if you’ve turned into a loony?

The thought of that sent a chill down his spine. ‘It happened,’ he told himself. ‘All that time-travel stuff happened. I’m not a bloody loony.’

Only one way to find out then, old son. Hmmm?

He looked at the Twin Towers, then glanced at his watch. It was just gone eight in the morning. Maybe he should at least check: walk in and swipe his card at the reception desk, see what happened? If it let him through, then it meant his old life was still there. The well-paid consultancy job, the fancy riverside apartment, the exclusive gym membership. It just meant he’d had one helluva hallucination.

And, of course, it means you might need to go and see a head doctor.

He laughed at that. A therapist. Crazy. Maybe this whole thing had been some sort of trip? Maybe he’d had a little too much to drink last night? Maybe someone had slipped something funny in his drink?

Only one way to find out, Mission Control said again.

He tucked his keys back in his pocket and turned left, heading down Bowery towards the World Trade Center. He figured half an hour from now he was going to be behind his desk again and wondering where the hell he’d got the fanciful idea from that he’d actually spent the night in a dingy brick archway with a team of time-travelling kids.

Crazy.