Dead Time Read online

  Dead Time

  Between Two Evils

  Book Three

  D. L. Orton

  * * *

  Contents

  Also by D. L. Orton

  What Readers Are Saying

  1. Till Death Do Us Not-So-Much

  2. Lost

  3. Her

  4. False Pretense

  5. The Good Guys

  6. Dead Wrong

  7. Ghost Busters

  8. The Room

  9. Drawing Blood

  10. Don’t Panic

  11. Alone Again (Naturally)

  12. All the World’s a Stage

  13. Flying Pigs

  14. Over and Out

  15. Outside the Lines

  16. Ruby Red Slippers

  17. Fish and Chips

  18. Breaking and Entering

  19. Time Bomb

  20. Release the Kraken

  21. Lock Him Up

  22. Jimbo

  23. Cross That Bridge

  24. Now I Know What Love Is

  25. Alternate Facts

  26. Journey to the Center of the Earth

  27. Betrayal

  28. Where the Wild Things Are

  29. See You on the Other Side

  30. Tell Him to Hurry

  31. Don’t Call Me Shirley

  32. Making the Braid

  33. Who Let the Dogs Out?

  34. Call the Shots

  35. Duck and Cover

  36. Heart of Darkness

  37. The Long and Winding Road

  38. Gator Aid

  39. We Don’t Need Forever

  40. Smoke and Mirrors

  41. For Pete’s Sake

  42. Out of Time

  43. Arrival

  Epilogue

  Thank You for Reading!

  Get the Next Book

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  About the Author

  Tell Me What You Think!

  The Mysterious Seashell

  Also by D. L. Orton

  Crossing in Time

  Between Two Evils Book One

  Lost Time

  Between Two Evils Book Two

  Dead Time

  Between Two Evils Book Three

  Out of Time

  Between Two Evils Book Four

  Coming 2019

  End of Time

  Between Two Evils Book Five

  Coming 2020

  The Last Star & Other Stories

  Tales of Love, Loss & Laughter

  A

  book

  is

  a

  time machine,

  a magic mirror,

  a flickering candle,

  a friend, a lover,

  a wormhole to

  another universe.

  It’s a memory of a

  place that doesn’t

  exist outside the

  pages.

  This book is dedicated to those who believe in

  the power of a story to change the world.

  To love or have loved, this is enough.

  Ask nothing further.

  There is no other pearl to be found

  in the dark folds of life.

  * * *

  Les Misérables

  Victor Hugo

  1

  Till Death Do Us Not-So-Much

  Shannon

  I stand with the rain pelting my helmet and watch the Cessna ascend into the stormy sky—my last chance to go home disappearing before my eyes.

  When the airplane vanishes into the dark clouds, I close my eyes and let the tears fall. I imagine myself sitting next to my puppy, Bearhart, in the backseat of the plane, wondering if the boys at C-Bay will be nice to me, or if the girls will think I’m dank. I can almost see Mr. C gripping the armrests and looking nervous as we fly through the rough air. I smile and tell him not to worry. We’ve got Madders at the stick, and Professor Matt Hudson is the best pilot in the whole wide world. He’ll get us out of this mess, no problemo.

  A flash of lightning brings me back to reality.

  The wind is ripping at the loose tabs on my biosuit and hurling huge raindrops against me like projectiles. I have thirty minutes of O2 left in my tank and one emergency air canister. My sketchpad is tucked inside a pocket of my suit, along with the lucky seashell Mr. C gave me, but that’s it. I take a sip of my dwindling water supply and turn toward the dilapidated biodome, feeling anxious and scared.

  Just turned eighteen, and my life is over.

  Mom always says that bravery is being the only one who knows you’re afraid.

  I’m trying to be brave, Mom, but it’s harder than I thought.

  All the jeeps and other equipment are gone now, and I count four dingy biosuits slogging toward me through the downpour. I gaze up at the sloped wall of the massive biodome, wishing it didn’t look so… alien.

  What would Madders do?

  He’d be collecting data, not blubbering like a D-2 who fell off a swing and scraped her knee.

  Identify the problem, engineer a fix, and Bob’s your uncle.

  I force down a sob and get to work.

  I’d estimate this biodome is twice the diameter of the Bub. So that means it must be…

  I have to force my brain to do the calculations.

  Four times as much floor space and almost as big as C-Bay. Holy—

  Someone shoves me hard in the back. “Let’s go, girly.”

  “Okay.” I start moving toward the man-made mountain. “No need to be rude.”

  “When the air runs out,” he says, “all the good manners in the world ain’t gonna save you.”

  But neither is being rude.

  I blink back tears and continue walking.

  Maybe if I focus on the outside, it won’t hurt so much on the inside.

  I make a mental note of the distance between airlocks, the algae-covered fishpond, and a huge pile of trash and discarded junk. And then I remember the hole in the biodome that was visible from the plane. It’s way up on the top of the dome. I slow my step and lean back for a better look, trying not to be too obvious.

  Mr. Rude—Mikey, I think they called him—decides it’s a good time to give me another shove in the back. “You best be keeping your head bowed and your eyes on your feet, if you know what’s good for you.”

  I do as he instructs, but not before I notice that the damaged spot on the biodome isn’t sagging at all. Maybe they patched it from the inside but didn’t bother to fix the outer shell?

  Which means the repair is only cosmetic—and the minute the inner skin fails, everyone will be dead.

  After Mikey turns away, I glance up and notice that the door to the main airlock is wide open.

  Do these people have a death wish?

  Failing to shut the exterior door on any airlock is a big no-no, but leaving the one on the main airlock open could get everyone in the biodome killed. In any sort of an emergency, there would be no way to get out. When the external door is open, you can’t open the internal one—not even with the manual override. People would be trapped inside—just like they were when that biodome in Arizona burned to the ground nine or ten years ago.

  The thought fills me with panic.

  The CO2 alarm in my suit goes off, and in my haste to locate the puncture, I lose my balance, nearly falling down.

  Someone grabs my arm, jerking me upright. “Watch it!” The voice is shrill and nasal. “The clumsy don’t last very long out—”

  “I… I can’t breathe!” My faceplate is fogging up and my air is getting thinner.

  The man with the high-pitched voice glances at the flashing orange light and shouts, “Her biosuit’s busted!”

  The others hurry over, searching for the telltale wisp of vapor that signals a breach. But
it’s raining hard, and I’m all wet. Hands grab at my sleeves and pants, searching in vain for the leak.

  This time, you’re going to die.

  I bend over, trying not to pass out—and count down the seconds.

  Mikey laughs. “Hey Sporus, they scramble your brains when they cut off your nuts? Kid’s having a panic attack, is all. CO2 got too high and the filter couldn’t keep up.”

  The alarm goes silent.

  “Bet she pissed her pants and ruined that nice suit a’ hers,” Sporus says, and they all laugh.

  Breathe, Shaz. Just breathe.

  “Okay, girly. Fun’s over,” Mikey says. “Let’s get a move on. I don’t like the looks of that storm.”

  I watch all but one set of boots shuffle away—and then a hand reaches out.

  “You alright, princess?” The voice is deep and gravelly.

  I look up into the sunken eyes of an old man, his face covered in whiskers and his helmet stuffed full of tangled hair.

  “A bit too much excitement is all,” he says and helps me stand up. “Can you walk?”

  I choke back a sob and nod.

  Mikey’s voice fills my helmet. “You ain’t going all soft on her now, are you, Grizzly? She may be a cute cub, but she’ll grow up to be a killer just like all the others.”

  “Pipe down, Mikey. You’re scarin’ her,” Grizzly says. He touches his helmet to mine. “Don’t listen to him. He’s got a bit of an ax to grind.” He chuckles to himself. “Never mind. Keep your eyes on the airlock and don’t breathe too fast.” He starts pulling me toward the biodome. “You’ll be fine. Plenty of folks get queasy the first time they’re Outside.”

  His words make me feel like some lolo D-2, and I’m grateful Mom and Madders weren’t here to see me fall apart at the stitches.

  I force myself to take slow, even breaths.

  You can beat this, Shannon Malia Kai. Mom won’t let these people get away with kidnapping you. As soon as Madders gets to C-Bay, he’ll put together a rescue party. You just have to figure out a way to survive until they get here.

  We’re heading for a small, two-person emergency airlock. It’s wide open, and rainwater is running down the side of the biodome, curling around the tiny roof and pouring into the room.

  When I get to the door, I stop and stare at the mess. The floor inside is a muddy jumble of decaying leaves, plastic bottles, and bits of trash floating around in the ankle-deep sludge.

  Mikey shoves me from behind, and then all four of the patched and faded biosuits squeeze in with me. It’s too many people for this small space, and I’m forced back against the wall. My boot slips and I lose my balance.

  A hand steadies me. “Careful, miss.” It’s a new voice, deep and soft. “You don’t want to fall down in all this muck.”

  I twist around to look at him, my heart still pounding. “Thanks,” I manage to say—and realize he’s only a kid.

  He nods in acknowledgment, his eyes taking me in. “We’re not monsters, you know. We’re just—”

  “Stop blabbering and help me get the damn door shut,” Mikey says.

  The kid averts his gaze and squeezes past me.

  The electricity seems to be off. So they have to close the door by hand—which explains why they left it open.

  My heart rate settles a bit.

  With my helmet pressed against the inner wall, I can hear metal grating against metal as they work the rusty door mechanism. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say the last time they did airlock maintenance was when I was still in diapers.

  Mookers, I get in trouble for throwing my clothes on the floor. Mom should see this place!

  They have difficulty getting the outer door to seal, and with so many bodies crammed into such close quarters, my suit is overheating.

  Just when I start to feel light-headed again, the inner portal slides open. I half-trip, half-step through the doorway and stop in my tracks.

  Oh. My. God.

  Dim light is filtering through the translucent biodome walls, and as far as the eye can see, the place is littered with piles of garbage and discarded junk. It’s like a scene out of some low-budget, post-apocalyptic movie where only the idiots survived.

  “Hustle up, miss. Don’t want that exterior door to fail, now do we?” Someone pokes me in the back.

  I shuffle out of the way, my eyes focusing on the billowy gray cloud rising from inside the biodome. It takes me a minute to figure out what it is.

  Smoke. From a fire. Burning inside the biodome.

  Before I have a chance to work through the long list of reasons why that is so wrong, someone unlatches my helmet and pulls it off, dumping out the last of the drinking water.

  “What about the decontamination procedures required after manual airlock flush?” I ask, unable to believe these careless people are still alive. “There could be pockets of air containing the virus in any number of—”

  Mikey snorts. “Welcome home, princess.”

  The stench of unwashed bodies and decaying biomass accosts me. The air is so foul, it makes my eyes water.

  But before I have a chance to address my captors, I’m blindfolded.

  “Get her out of that thing,” Grizzly says.

  Rough hands pull off my biosuit, leaving me shivering in shorts and a thin T-shirt.

  Mikey lets out a wolf whistle. “Will you look at them curves? I could poke her so deep, whoever pulled me out would be king of all Eng—”

  “Shut it,” Grizzly says. “You gotta wait your turn like everyone else.”

  Someone tugs on my ankle, and I step out of my biosuit.

  “Mm, mm,” Mikey says, his mouth next to my leg.

  I feel something warm and wet slide up my thigh—and let out a yelp when I realize it’s his tongue.

  He laughs. “Don’t worry, blondie, there’s more where that came from.” I hear him kick my suit out of the way.

  “Hey,” I say, blindly reaching out for my biosuit. “You need to hang it up or it’ll—”

  A smelly rag is stuffed into my mouth, and then they tie my hands behind my back.

  “No time for that,” Grizzly says. “Don’t want to be late for your nuptials.”

  I’m not sure what that word means, but I don’t think it’s good.

  “Let’s go,” Mikey says as he yanks my arm forward.

  A tear slips down my cheek. I wipe it away with my shoulder, but another one takes its place.

  “And enough with the blubbering,” Grizzly says. “You’re a grown woman. You best start acting like one.”

  The five of us—Mikey, Grizzly, Sporus, the quiet one, and me—spend the next hour working our way through some sort of maze.

  I try to keep track of the lefts and rights until someone grabs me by the front of my shirt.

  “Don’t you be getting any ideas about escaping,” Mikey says, ripping a tear in the thin fabric as he spins me around. “I just as soon shoot you as see more of that pretty little bra you’re wearing.” He squeezes my breast so hard it hurts. “You hear me?”

  I let out a frightened squeal and then nod, feeling sick to my stomach.

  A few minutes later, they stand me up against a wall while they open some sort of complicated bulkhead. I hear a heavy door squeak open, and they force me through and reseal it.

  The air is noticeably better.

  “Home sweet home,” Sporus says. “The land of the free and the home of the brave.”

  They lead me down a long hallway, our footsteps echoing, and into a stuffy room. The door closes behind me and someone forces me down into a chair. I hear muffled voices and the sort of music they play in old vampire movies coming from somewhere nearby.

  There must be a lot more people in there!

  The moment they take the gag out of my mouth, I yell, “Help! I’ve been kidnapped!”

  A bony hand covers my mouth, mashing my lips against my teeth and pressing my cheek into the back of the chair.

  “Stop that hollerin’!” Grizzly says, his scratc
hy beard brushing against my ear. “The Prez don’t want you to see how we get in and out, but we ain’t gonna—” He starts coughing, the reek of his breath making me recoil.

  “We ain’t gonna hurt you or nothing,” a younger voice says. “We ain’t no rapists.”

  “The kid’s right,” Grizzly says, suppressing another cough. “‘Round here we do things by the Good Book. You ain’t got no reason to fear us.” He nudges me in the shoulder. “You hear me?”

  I nod, and he loosens his grip a little.

  “If I let go, will you behave yourself?”

  I nod again, and he releases my mouth.

  “We should take that blindfold off her too,” Grizzly says. “Don’t want the fine, upstanding folks in the chapel getting the wrong impression.”

  “I thought she wasn’t allowed to see me until the ceremony!” It’s the boy who kept me from falling down in the airlock.

  Grizzly grunts. “What’s she gonna do, call the po-leece?” He laughs at his own joke, but it turns into another coughing fit.

  “You sound like you need a doctor,” I say.

  The kid pulls off my blindfold. “We ain’t got no doctors.”

  “Don’t matter,” Grizzly says, his beard covering nearly all of his face and his thinning hair wild. He sits down on a wooden crate. “Ain’t nothin’ they could do anyways. It’s like a caved-in coal mine here, and there ain’t no cure for that ’cept dyin’.”