Dead Time Read online

  “I will not calm down until my d-daughter is safe.” I wipe the tears off my face. “You need to send someone to get her out of there right now.”

  “Look, I’ve dealt with these guys before. They may be able to bully neophytes and little girls, but I can take them down at any time, and you can bet your ass they know it. I built their biodome. If they mess with me, I’ll send them back to the Stone Age. If that doesn’t bring them to their knees, I have enough firepower here to blow them to kingdom come—but that’s a last option. No point in killing innocents if we don’t have to.”

  I can’t concentrate on his words anymore. All I can think of is my daughter being captured and raped by those brutes. They could be torturing her, forcing her to do horrible things.

  Why did I let her go with them?

  “What if they don’t cooperate?” Jack says. “You can’t blow up the biodome with Shannon in there.” He looks at me, his eyes huge. “After all, Catersville is the place where they shoved all those people out the air—”

  “Whoa there, Jacky-boy. You’re not helping the situation. Didn’t I just say Plan A is to negotiate? I’m not charging in guns a’ blazing unless I have no other option. I know there are lots of nasty rumors about that place, but they are not going to hurt her. They may not see things the same as us, but they’re not monsters.”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

  “There’s no need to worry, Lani,” David says, his voice sounding strong and confident—like the man I once fell in love with. “I’ll get her back, babe. I promise.”

  I take a ragged breath, wanting to trust him but unsure if he’s telling me the whole truth. “You can’t leave her overnight, David. She won’t last a week with those animals. What if they do things to her? Force her to… Oh, God, I’m begging you!”

  Dave clears his throat. “That whole mutiny thing was a bunch of hearsay, Lani. I’m sure Shannon is fine—probably a bit scared—but fine.”

  “How do you know? Have you talked to her?”

  “No, but we know their computers can still access the Eastern Grid. I’m pulling up the data on their biodome now. They haven’t responded to our radio queries, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. Like I said, they have a jeep-mounted M2. I can’t just waltz in there and ring the doorbell. We need to give them some time to cool off.”

  “I don’t give a crap if you have to lock up everyone in the whole biodome. I want my daughter back!”

  “And you will get her back, Lani, but it’s going to take some time. You need to tread cautiously around these types.”

  My anger burns out and leaves despair in its ashes. “You have to help her, David. Please, I’ll do anything to get her back. She’s only a child. I can’t even imagine how terrified she must be.”

  “Poor kid,” Jack says. “Locked up with all those pervert—”

  “Shut it, Jack.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It’s too bad it wasn’t me in that plane,” David says. “I never would have let them take her in the first place. All Diego needed to do was threaten to punch holes in their biosuits, and those morons would have been stumbling all over themselves to get back Inside.” I hear his tired sigh—it’s after 3am. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that—heat of the moment and all. It’s not Diego’s fault. He did the best he could in a bad situation.”

  “I want to talk to Diego,” I say. “I want to know why he left Shannon at that lunatic asylum.”

  “The guy’s a mess, Lani. They beat him up pretty bad. Catersville has a history of playing hardball. So give Mr. Crusoe a day or two to recover before you attempt to murder him again.”

  “Damn him,” I say through tears. “His name isn’t Diego Crusoe, it’s James Nadales.”

  “So you already knew,” David says. “I dug up his passport after Bella recognized him in one of the photos you sent. She swears he’s had some sort of plastic surgery, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out where. He was mixed up with the NSA back before Doomsday hit. I’m sending Hudson up to DC to see if they can uncover anything more on who he is—or what he was involved in.”

  I don’t know what to say.

  “In the meantime, I’m sending over instructions to deal with the failing section of the wall. I wish I could replace it, but the Bub’s a one-of-a-kind prototype, and I don’t have the parts. I’m working on some new technology that might eventually help, but for now, I want you to follow my directions to seal it off. I’ll send the supplies back with Hudson.”

  I stare at the microphone, not really listening anymore.

  Diego is some sort of ex-NSA operative who changed his identity? I don’t know which is worse: the time machine story he told me or this.

  “I’ll give you a call in the morning with an update,” David says. “In the meantime, try to get some sleep. I know you’re worried about Shannon—and so am I—but running around like a chicken with its head cut off isn’t going to help. And like I said, nothing bad is going to happen to Shannon.”

  I press my lips together, unable to speak.

  “Thank you,” Jack says. “We’ll get working on the repairs right away, Mr. Kirk. Tell Madders we said safe travels.”

  “Hang in there, Lani,” David says. “I’m doing everything I can to get your daughter back safe and sound. As soon as I have any new information, you’ll be the first to know. And get on those biodome repairs ASAP.”

  “Will do, Mr. Kirk,” Jack says.

  “Good. And Lani?”

  “Yeah,” I say, my eyelids shut tight against the tears.

  “Trust me, okay?”

  He waits for me to reply, but it’s all I can do to keep breathing.

  I hear him sigh. “C-Bay out.”

  3

  Her

  Diego

  The sky is getting light when I stumble into the airlock at C-Bay still wearing Shannon’s blanket from the plane. The others are already through, but C-Bay has me strip and breathe three minutes of bottled air to clear the virus out of my lungs. Then they make me toss my blanket and clothes out—and cycle the airlock again. I stand naked for another three minutes, shivering and waiting for the all-clear. Someone opens the inner door and tosses in some clothes. I put them on and limp through, wishing the wackjobs who beat me up had finished the job.

  What are you going to tell Lani? You got her daughter raped and possibly killed?

  Our rescuers are paramilitary, armed to the teeth with guns and Tasers, and there are more men in uniform waiting inside. Matt is already there, and the instant the door behind me shuts, one of the uniforms steps forward and gives me a crisp salute. “Welcome to C-Bay, Mr. Crusoe. I was told that you are in need of medical assistance. Would you like a wheelchair?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve spent enough time in wheelchairs, thank you very much.”

  “Very well,” he says. “I’m sure you’re tired and hungry. So if you’ll follow—”

  “I want to speak to Mr. Kirk,” I say. “About sending a rescue party to Catersville.”

  “I can assure you,” he says, “that Mr. Kirk is well aware of Miss Kai’s plight. Now then, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your quarters.”

  Matt and I stare at each other, both of us feeling like something is… off.

  “Mr. Crusoe,” the uniformed man continues, glancing at his clipboard. “You have an appointment to have blood drawn at thirteen hundred hours, followed by a radiology exam, a biometric assessment, and a psychological evaluation.” He turns to Matt. “Dr. Hudson, you are scheduled to fly out—”

  “Excuse me,” I say. “But I need to speak with Dave Kirk. Right now. Could you call him, please?”

  “Mr. Kirk is a very busy man, Mr. Crusoe.” The guy is short with dirty blond hair, and the huge mustache he’s sporting—along with his knee-high leather boots—makes him look like a dime-store Civil War general.

  Mierda, he looks like Custer. All he needs is the hat and horse.

  “As I said,” he continues, “Mr. Kirk is
looking into the hostage situation, and I’m certain he will speak to you at his earliest convenience.”

  I start to protest, but he holds up his hand. “Although I understand your concern, Catersville is no longer your problem. As I’m sure you’re aware, your ability to survive Outside is of the utmost importance to Mr. Kirk and everyone in this biodome. I have orders to let you sleep for five hours and then escort you to begin testing. I intend to follow those orders, Mr. Crusoe.” He glances over at Matt. “Dr. Hudson, if you’ll come with me.”

  Matt hesitates and then steps closer to me. “Commander Armstrong is it? I think your best bet would be to wake Kirk up and tell him we’re here. He and I go way back, and I expect he’d want to talk to us in person. Pronto, if you catch my meaning?”

  “I see.” He nods at his men, and before I can react, they slap handcuffs on me.

  Yep, Custer it is.

  “We’re all on the same team here, boys, and I sure wish you’d start acting like it.” Custer turns to Matt. “Dr. Hudson, you’re free to go.”

  Matt hesitates.

  “I suggest you take advantage of it before I change my mind.”

  “Yes, sir.” Matt nods at me. “I’ll talk to Kirk and come find you later.” He hurries off.

  “Show Mr. Crusoe to his quarters,” the commander says, stroking his mustache. “And get him something to eat.”

  Two men grab me from behind and start hustling me down the hallway.

  “Wait,” a muffled female voice says from behind us.

  The uniforms freeze.

  Something about her voice makes my throat tighten, but I’m too overwhelmed to sort it out.

  “Let me see his face,” she says.

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  They haul me around.

  The woman steps out of the shadows—tall and thin with a surgical mask over her face. Her limp blond hair is in a bun at the base of her neck, making her look like a middle-aged Evita on her way to surgery.

  “Bring him here.” She speaks with undeniable authority, and the uniforms hustle to obey, dragging me along. We stop in front of her, the guards gripping my arms like I’m a traitor bent on murdering the queen.

  She stares at me, her gaze like a floodlight. “Who are you?” Her voice is icy cold, but it makes my heart race. I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

  Isabel.

  Custer answers for me. “Diego Crusoe, ma’am. We just brought him in.”

  “I know that, you idiot.” She doesn’t take her eyes off me. “What’s his real name?”

  He pokes me in the back. “Speak up, son.”

  I shrug. “I don’t remember.”

  Above the mask, her eyebrows rise.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, staring into her stunning green eyes. “For everything.” It’s as if I’m speaking to a woman in another universe.

  Christ, I’ve missed you.

  She tips her head to the side, her eyes slits, and lets her gaze roam from my face, down to my chest and shoulders, and then back up to my mouth. “More like you don’t want to remember.” She grits her teeth, her eyes full of hatred. “And who could blame you? If you had even a shred of human decency, you would have stayed dead, James, and saved me the pain of remembering what you did to him—to us.”

  “To whom?” I say, my voice faltering. “What are you talking about?”

  She slaps me hard across the face, and I stumble sideways into the guy on my right, tasting fresh blood.

  A dog barks, and we all turn toward the sound.

  “Is that what I think it is?” she asks Custer.

  “Yes, ma’am. The puppy was in a pressurized cage in the plane and just cleared quarantine. Cute little fella. I figure the men could take care of him. Feed him and train—”

  “Let him out,” she says, and a second later, Shannon’s puppy comes barreling down the hallway, heading straight for me.

  “Bearhart!” I say and lean over to greet him, but my captors restrain me.

  Bella pulls off her gloves and mask, bends down, and puts her nose right up to the puppy’s. “Bearhart, is it? What a sweetie you are!” She ruffles his ears, and a moment later he licks her face, his tail wagging his whole body.

  She looks up at me, her eyes glossy. “I haven’t seen a dog in decades. Where did you get him?”

  “Matt brought him back from Seattle for Shannon Kai’s eighteenth birthday. Shannon’s the girl—”

  “I know who she is,” she says and stands back up, her expression hardening again. “It would seem you’re an expert in felony child endangerment.” She exhales through her teeth. “Get him out of my sight.”

  ∞

  I wake with a start.

  A nurse comes in carrying a tray of food, her shoes squeaking as she power walks across the floor.

  I wait for the cobwebs of sleep to clear enough to figure out where I am.

  C-Bay. Without Shannon.

  Mierda.

  I have no idea how long they let me sleep, but it wasn’t long enough. I feel like shit.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Crusoe. I’ve brought your lunch.” The nurse sets a tray down on the bedside table and nods at a stack of clothing. “If you’d eat and freshen up, I’ll be back in thirty minutes to change your bandages and escort you to have your blood drawn.” She gives me a saccharin smile. “We can’t sleep away the whole day, now, can we?”

  “I’m not going anywhere until I talk to Captain Kirk.”

  She frowns. “I’m a nurse, Mr. Crusoe, not a magician. Mr. Kirk is a very busy man, and when he gets a chance, I’m sure he’ll be over to speak with you. Until then, I suggest you cooperate. Handcuffs can be such a nuisance.” She turns on her heel and walks out.

  I haul myself out of bed, limp across the floor, and check the door.

  It’s locked.

  Mierda, what have I gotten myself into?

  One of my eyes is swollen shut, and my whole body hurts, but I manage to make my way into the small bathroom without incident. I splash warm water on my bruised face and then notice a pump bottle of liquid soap—something I never saw at the Bub.

  What else do they have that the Bub doesn’t?

  After I dry off, I put on the clean clothes and comb my hair, tying it back with a rubber band I find sitting on my clothes. My backpack is in the corner. I take out Shannon’s jaguarundi drawing and stick it up on the wall using Band-Aids from a cabinet.

  I’m sorry, Shaz.

  Lunch consists of three dry brown disks, a glop of greenish sludge that looks like bad guacamole, and a glass of tepid water with floaters. I take a sniff of the Soylent Green and almost retch. It smells like they scraped it off the bottom of a fishpond. I plug my nose and bite into one of the cookie-like things—and then spit it out, wondering how they get that heavy metal taste into salted cardboard.

  I take a stale granola bar out of my pack and wash it down with my last bottle of water, feeling miserable.

  At precisely one o’clock, Nurse Ratched comes in pushing a wheelchair. Her eyebrows rise when she sees that I’m dressed, but fall again when she sees that I haven’t eaten anything. “The seaweed baked with ground fish bones is very nutritious, Mr. Crusoe, and now it will go to waste.” She clicks her tongue. “Need I remind you that we have lots of people to feed and very few natural protein sources?”

  “Give it to them with my compliments.”

  She purses her lips and rolls the wheelchair around to the bed. “Are you going to cooperate, or shall I call security?”

  “I don’t need the damn chair.”

  “I was told to transport you in a wheelchair,” she says and gestures toward the seat. “If you don’t like it, take it up with the doctor.”

  I give up and sit down in the wheelchair, wondering if Lani knows about Shannon yet.

  Christ, what am I going to tell her?

  I spend the rest of the day being tested for diseases, deformities, and drugs. I’m poked, prodded, and pumped for information about my early childhood
toilet training, but not one single person asks me about the biotech devices in my blood. Not one.

  That evening, I’m brought back to my hospital room, where yet another round of inedible crap is waiting.

  “Good night, Mr. Crusoe,” Nurse Ratched says, tapping her foot as she waits for me to get out of the chair. “I will be back in the morning at eight o’clock sharp. I would appreciate it if you were ready.” She pushes the wheelchair out, securing the door as she leaves.

  The lights in the room go off at nine. I do ten push-ups, brush my teeth using real toothpaste, and then climb into bed. There’s a light in the bathroom that I can’t turn off, and I lie awake, staring at Shannon’s jaguarundi drawing. When I finally fall asleep, my dreams are full of huge reptiles attacking her as I stand frozen, unable to do anything except watch.

  In the morning, the lights come on at seven, and breakfast is waiting when I get out of the shower. It’s the same crap as the day before, but I’m getting pretty hungry. I force down a bite. The salty glop hits my stomach like a rock, making me want to puke.

  The nurse pushes in the wheelchair precisely at eight, takes one look at my tray, and gives me a disapproving look. “That’s very wasteful, Mr. Crusoe.”

  “I wasn’t hungry.”

  “Then I’ll let the kitchen know that you won’t be needing any lunch.” She humphs. “Let’s go. You have a very busy schedule today. First up, proctology.”

  Proctology? It’s like someone is torturing me for shits and giggles.

  “No,” I say. “I’m done taking tests.”

  She stands there, lips tight, and I get the feeling no one’s told her ‘no’ before.

  “Goddamn it,” I say, “you’ve done everything except chop me up into little bits to see if my legs regrow. I’m not submitting to any more tests until I speak to Dave Kirk.”

  She crosses her arms. “I’m sorry we’re not living up to your expectations, Mr. Cru—”

  “Now. So either call the guys with the handcuffs or tell Captain fucking Kirk to get his ass in here.”

  She snorts, her lips puckered. “There’s no need to be vulgar, Mr. Crusoe.”