Whoever Kane really is, whatever his plans are, I cannot — no, will not — let him get away with them.
I have no idea if he realizes what he’s taken from me, but whether he does or not, my chaser is basically a piece of junk in his hands. Sure, if the flap was unlocked — which it’s not — he could scroll through the menus and do some calculations, but he could never jump. To do that, he would need to rekey the machine to recognize him. That’s not a simple process, and very few know (knew/have ever known) how to do it. I know how only because my instructor Marie thought it important to train me in more than just the official curriculum. So even if Kane is a rewinder — which the evidence I’ve seen so far does not support — he’s highly unlikely to have the technical knowledge to use my device.
Still, the sooner the device is back in my hands, the better I’ll feel.
Without another chaser at my disposal, however, I’m currently like everyone else in this world, bound by the common laws of time and space. And since I don’t know how to drive a car, I’m going to need help.
I check on Ellie first. Though she’s still unconscious, her breathing sounds normal, and I am hoping whatever Kane has done to her has not harmed her in any lasting way.
Iffy, too, is still out, though she’s restless.
I shake her shoulder. “Iffy. Wake up.”
She answers with a moan, so I rock her a little harder.
“Iffy. Come on. Open your eyes.”
Her breaths become pants, like she’s in the middle of a bad dream.
“Wake up!”
I lift her into a sitting position, and immediately the pants become a moan again and then a “Wha…” as her eyes flutter open for a brief moment and then close.
I gently tap her cheek. “Hey, it’s okay. Wake up.”
Her lids blink a few times, and she then squints at me. “Denny?”
I have no experience with people who’ve been drugged. The only ones I’ve seen are those in movies Iffy has shown me. Coffee seemed to be something that is often given, so I carry her into the living room, put her on the couch, and run into the kitchen.
When I return a few minutes later with a cupful of French roast, Iffy has fallen back asleep. As soon as I get her eyes open again, I place the cup against her lips. She automatically takes a sip, then pulls back, her eyes widening.
“Too hot,” she says, blinking.
I blow on it.
“What am I doing… out here?” she asks, her voice breathy, dreamlike.
“Try this,” I say, holding the cup up again.
She takes a more tentative sip this time. “Still too hot.” Her brow creases, and she suddenly looks around in a panic. “He’s here! Kane. He’s in the apartment!”
“Was here,” I tell her. “He’s gone now.”
“He’s gone?”
I nod.
It takes several seconds for her confusion to ease enough that she begins to relax.
“Can you tell me what happened?” I asked.
There’s a delay before she looks at me. “Huh?”
“How did Kane get inside?”
She looks confused, the drug still affecting her. “Kane?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, um, front… door.”
“You let him in?”
She squeezes her eyes shut before stretching them wide for a second and then shakes her head. “Not me. Ellie was up. We were talking when he knocked. Said he was with the police. She…” Her head dropped as she ran out of steam.
“She got to the door first?” I asked.
A nod.
This wouldn’t be the first time Ellie rushed to answer the door before anyone else could get there. It’s a moment of excitement in her usual, boring day.
“He shoved his way… in,” Iffy whispers. “Asked where you were.”
“What did you tell him?”
“To get out.” She starts to lean against me, but then sits up straight, her eyes widening again. “He asked about… about your chaser. Wanted to know if you had it with you.” She takes a breath. “Had to tell him. He… pulled out a gun, pointed it at Ellie. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
She puts a hand on the couch and tries to push herself up. “We have to check on her.”
I put an arm around her. “She’s okay. She’s sleeping.”
“You’re… sure?”
“Uh-huh.”
Iffy relaxes a little. “He made me give, um, give her some of her sleeping pills.”
“Do you remember how many?” I ask.
“He said four, but only gave her… two. Dropped the other two under her blankets.”
“He made you take some of them, too?”
“Gave me the same. I spit most of them out when he wasn’t looking.”
“I need you to wake up. Can you do that?”
“Am… awake.”
“I mean really awake. I need your help.” In as few words as possible, I tell her about my encounter with Kane and how he’s gotten away with my chaser.
The last part is what finally seems to get her heart pumping again. She grabs the cup of coffee and downs the whole thing.
We discuss our options and come up with the outline of a plan that is 90 percent desperation, but neither of us know what else to do. We figure that Kane is either still in San Diego or is heading back to Los Angeles. There is just no way to know for sure. But what we do know is that the old woman is in LA, and she’s clearly important to him. He has to return to her at some point. At least, that’s our hope. So that’s where we decide to go.
Since Iffy is in no condition to drive us north, she calls the only other person who knows my secret, and convinces RJ to help us out.
We are heading up the coast on the I-5 freeway in just under thirty minutes. I’m in the front with RJ, while Iffy is in the back, Ellie’s head in her lap. As much as I would like to leave Ellie at the apartment, there’s no one we can trust to watch her there. LA is a different story, though.
It’s not long before Iffy is leaning back in her seat, lightly snoring, essentially leaving RJ and me alone together for the first time.
Initially, we simply ride in silence. It’s as we’re passing a sign for an upcoming exit to the town of San Clemente that he finally says, “What’s it like?”
My head has become so filled with thoughts of Kane and why he has forced himself into our lives that it takes me a moment to realize RJ has spoken. “What’s what like?”
“Alternate earth. Where you’re from.”
I look out at the road ahead. “This is alternate earth.”
I sense his confusion long before he says, “What do you mean?”
I purposely kept details light during our previous talk. After all, seeing the shuttle land and being in the opening night audience of Star Wars meant there wasn’t much more I needed to do to convince him of the chaser abilities.
“This world right now isn’t the one that’s supposed to be. There was a change in the time line. An accident.”
“Wait. I thought we were talking about parallel worlds. Isn’t that where you’re from? Isn’t your world still out there?”
“No,” I say, though a more accurate answer would be, “I don’t think so.”
“Then what happened to your world?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Though I know he wants to ask more, he’s apparently understood from the tone of my voice that I don’t want to discuss it, and we fall back into silence.
I’ve read some on the theory of parallel worlds. As far as I know, it’s not a concept that was ever developed in my world. It was certainly not something we were ever taught. Here, though, it’s seen as a real possibility.