Dead Time Read online

  The question makes my throat tight.

  How much did Lani write down? The time travel stuff? The other universe claim? Or just that I’m delusional?

  I swallow. “You’re familiar with Dr. Kai’s notes?”

  “Yes. According to her, you fell from a height of twelve meters, broke twenty-three bones, and suffered a concussion. She offers no explanation for how you got in that tree, nor does she speculate on where you’ve been for the last twenty years. She did some testing on your blood, but only notes that you have the somewhat rare blood type O negative. Her final entry states that you are still experiencing some memory loss, but it seems to be improving.” She doesn’t even glance at the notes. “Would you agree with that evaluation?”

  So Lani didn’t reveal anything.

  I gulp. “Yes.”

  “Good,” Soleil says. “So why don’t we start with how those biotech devices got in your blood?”

  “Sure.” I say, determined to stay as close to the truth as I can without saying the words time machine. “Back before Doomsday,” I say, “I was part of a secret government project to investigate a hollow metal sphere of unknown origin. The thousand-pound ball fell out of the sky, going at Mach 8, and set a good chunk of downtown Denver on fire when it came down.”

  “I don’t recall hearing anything about that. Are you sure it was in Denver?”

  “Yes. I was there the night it happened. I nearly died in the resulting fire.”

  She looks more carefully at me, probably doing the math. “How old were you?”

  “Thirty-eight,” I say. “How old were you when they sealed the biodomes?”

  She hesitates and then decides that the information isn’t top secret. “Fifteen.”

  “Mierda,” I say, feeling off-balance.

  She was born when you and Iz were first dating. If you hadn’t gotten angry and hopped on that plane…

  She raises one eyebrow. “How old are you now?”

  “Older than that.” I slide my hands across my face, trying to hide my damp eyes. “To be honest, I don’t know for sure, Sol.”

  “Please don’t call me that,” she says, her voice carefully controlled.

  I stare at her, unable to get the image of her lying dead in Isabel’s arms out of my mind.

  She narrows one eye. “And I would appreciate it if you would stop staring at me like I’m some sort of unicorn.”

  “I’m…” I drop my gaze. “…sorry.”

  “So what was inside the hollow sphere?”

  I force myself not to look at her. “Plans to build a biotech device. It took nearly a year, but a team of top-notch geneticists followed the instructions and created what they thought was a vaccine.”

  “For Doomsday?” She thumbs through my chart.

  “Yes,” I say and steal a glance up. “But when they tested it on a volunteer, he died in a matter of minutes.”

  Her eyes get big. “You tested a vaccine of dubious origins on a human?”

  “People were desperate—and we were running out of time.”

  “So what made you decide to volunteer?”

  I shrug. “I didn’t really have a choice. I was abducted by two government agents and agreed to cooperate with them in exchange for medical supplies to be sent to my… wife. She was dying from an infected knife wound, and all the hospitals had been closed and looted by then.”

  “Did she receive the necessary antibiotics in time?”

  I nod.

  “And did she make it inside a biodome?”

  I exhale. “I don’t know. In my… area, there’s only one biodome. It would have taken a miracle.”

  Or Dave.

  She taps her pencil on the clipboard, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Do you have any other family? Any children?”

  I stare at her, the word children stuck in my brain. “No.”

  She looks away. “So what happened after the vaccine killed the test subject?”

  “Turns out, my name was also inside the sphere: handwritten on a sheet of pink paper. After the initial failure, the geneticists determined that the biotechs might have been designed for a single genome. When Doomsday mutated, I agreed to have the vaccine injected, hoping it might protect me. And here I am.”

  “Just like that, huh?” She reaches back and shuts the door. “Why does the vaccine only work on you? What makes you so special?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “So,” she says, sounding like she’s talking to a six-year-old, “you were thirty-eight when Doomsday mutated, and almost twenty years later, you look…” She tips her head to the side, squinting at me. “…about thirty-eight.”

  “Yeah.”

  She snorts, sounding exasperated. “So the biotech does affect your aging. Is that why you look twenty years younger than you are?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know.” She crosses her arms. “How do you explain the age discrepancy?”

  “I can’t.”

  She glances down at my chart. “How did you end up in that tree?”

  “A computer malfunction.”

  “Have you had a full physical since you arrived in C-Bay?” She glances at my stack of papers. “I didn’t see one in your chart.”

  I shake my head. “Just tests—most of which had nothing to do with my injuries or the biotech devices.”

  “I’m going to need you to disrobe and lie on your side.”

  I stare at her, not understanding.

  “I’m going to aspirate some bone marrow for my own testing.” She walks over to the cupboard and takes out a pair of latex gloves. “Where is the lab that made the biotechs?”

  “I don’t know. I was unconscious when they took me there.”

  “They drugged you?”

  “No,” I say, feeling my face get warm, “I fell asleep.”

  She opens a drawer and takes stuff out, keeping her back to me. “Who were the geneticists?”

  “I don’t know that either. They were on a separate team.” I watch her, still unable to process that she’s my daughter.

  “What was your team responsible for?”

  “Building a computer.”

  “Where have you been living for the last twenty years?”

  “In Colorado.”

  She turns, her hands on her hips—and then notices that I haven’t taken off any clothes. “Did you want me to leave while you undress?”

  “No. It’s just that you’re… I mean, I’m…”

  Mierda.

  “Never mind,” I say and start taking off my shirt.

  She watches me for a moment, her arms crossed again. “I assure you, Mr. Crusoe, the fact that I’m a woman will have no bearing—”

  “Believe me, it’s not that.”

  I spend the next ten minutes trying not to flinch as she sticks a long needle into the back of my hip bone.

  “Okay, I’m done,” she says, after swabbing and taping the site. “You can get dressed.”

  I sit up and start putting my clothes back on.

  “I need to drop this sample off at the lab, and then I’ll be back.” She takes some papers off her clipboard and hands them to me, along with a pencil. “Please fill this out while I’m gone.”

  I glance at the first question:

  Are there any genetic diseases that run in your family?

  She labels the test tube, places it in a plastic bag, and exits, carrying the sample and the tray of used paraphernalia.

  I give her thirty seconds—and then get up and start reading through my chart.

  Except there’s nothing in it but useless test results: “No iron deficiency found” and “Results normal” and “Patient was agitated about testing but cooperated. FIT negative.”

  I set it back on the counter and peek out the door. Right across the hall is a closed door with “Dr. Soleil Nadales” on the nameplate.

  Bingo.

  I check the doorknob—it’s unlocked—and then slip inside.

>   The walls are covered with family photos: Soleil and Lucas as toddlers in matching bear outfits. A pre-adolescent Soleil smiling and holding up a soccer ball with her brother standing behind her making a goofy face. Soleil as a baby asleep on my chest, her tiny hand wrapped around my index finger.

  I stand there staring at the photo, my heart aching—and then force myself to look away.

  I go back to looking for my chart, wondering what really happened to James and Bella.

  One of her desk drawers is locked, so I search through the pencil drawer for the key. It’s in the back inside a fake worry stone—the same place Isabel would have kept it. I unlock the drawer and search through the hanging files until I find Diego Crusoe (Nadales?)

  The top sheet in the file is handwritten and contains a list of questions. At the bottom are the words:

  Suffers from grandiose hallucinations, persecution complex, and emotional instability.

  Initial DX: delusional psychosis.

  It’s signed: S. Nadales, MD.

  I shove the papers back in the file and push the drawer shut—and then notice the framed photo on her desk. It was taken in front of the Great Pyramid, and Soleil and Lucas look to be five or six years old. Soleil’s face is a bit flushed—as if she’d been crying—but she’s smiling in the photo. She’s holding hands with Lucas—who is looking up at his mother—and leaning her head against me. Standing behind the twins, with his arm around Bella and his other hand on Soleil’s shoulder, is Dave Kirk.

  “Shit.”

  “What the hell are you doing in my office?” Soleil says. She’s standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

  “I…” I stare at her, my whole world crashing down around me. “I’m so…” I swallow. “I’m so sorry…” I wipe my face on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save—”

  “Get out of my office,” she says, her eyes like daggers.

  I nod, feeling like a heel, and set the photo back down. “Sol, I’m sorry—”

  “If you ever call me that again,” she says, “I’ll have my uncle lock you up. Do you hear me?”

  “Yeah,” I say and walk past her out the door—and then hesitate in front of the exam room.

  “We’re done,” she says. “I’ll send someone to collect more blood if and when I need it. In the meantime, I suggest you stay out of my sight.”

  10

  Don’t Panic

  Lani

  After one cycle with the UV lamp, the Virus Detected light stops flashing. The inner door of the Bub airlock opens, and I step through.

  Everyone is staring at me like I transformed from a black cat.

  “How’s Jack?” I ask.

  Madders breaks the spell. “He’s going to need some stitches, but Lucy says they have him stabilized.”

  I nod, relief flooding in. “Thank goodness.”

  “So you’re immune,” Madders says like he doesn’t believe it.

  I shrug, still having trouble believing it myself. “I guess so.”

  “What are the odds?” he says and lets out a soft whistle.

  “Around one in a hundred million,” Mindy says. “I just checked. We’ve all seen that photo of a woman standing among hundreds of bodies, and everyone’s heard rumors about people living in the ruined cities…”

  “And there was a family in Japan—all five of them immune,” someone says.

  “So maybe the odds are better than that,” Mindy says. “Only there’s no way to know if you’re immune—unless you’re willing to risk your life to find out.”

  “Sort of like jumping out of an airplane to test a parachute,” Madders says. “If you’re wrong, you don’t get a second chance.”

  “And everyone so far has been wrong,” Mindy says. “Except Doc and Mr. C—and maybe Shannon.”

  Shannon might be immune!

  Hope floods into me like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

  “Remember when she got that snakebite in her suit?” Mindy says, glancing between Madders and me. “And her panels went red? Maybe the virus did get inside.”

  “And the ultraviolet light destroyed it when she came through the airlock with Diego,” I say.

  “That was lucky,” Mindy says. “If we hadn’t needed the lights for Mr. C, Shannon could have killed us all when she took off her helmet.”

  “Okay, folks,” Madders says. “Time to get back to work. I’ll get on the horn to Kirk and let him know the patch on the outer wall failed—see if he has any other ideas. I imagine he’ll want to know that Lani’s immune, but as far as I’m concerned, it can wait—don’t want him insisting we send her out to C-Bay for testing when folks here need a doctor.”

  There are murmurs of assent.

  I almost add that being immune makes me the perfect candidate to rescue Shannon—but realize it also means I’m the best choice to help repair the biodome.

  “Mindy, you do a headcount and let me know if anyone is missing,” Madders says. “The rest of you split up into teams. We need to bury the dead, collect equipment and tools from the contaminated area, and set up a new radio room. Everyone pass along the message that the council will meet in the cafeteria after supper. We all need to do some serious thinking about an evacuation plan.”

  No one questions Matt Hudson’s authority. He’s a natural leader, and we’re all grateful to have someone offer a plan of action.

  What are we going to do when he’s… gone?

  Madders scans the worried faces. “Let’s get to work.” He waits for the crowd to disperse and then puts his unbandaged arm around my shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say and stick my trembling hands in my pockets. “How’s your arm?”

  “Be good as new in a week or so.”

  We glance out the window at the distant mountains—and then both speak at once.

  “Lani—”

  “I—”

  “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you to the clinic. Once you have Jack and the others patched up, we can talk about Shannon.”

  ∞

  That evening after the council meeting, I muster all my courage and corner Madders. “We’re still leaving tomorrow to get Shannon, right?”

  He winces. “I’m worried sick about her too, Lani, but we can’t abandon the people here. If that patch on the wall had held, things would be different, but…” He puts his arm around me. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  I let him lead me out of the cafeteria.

  “I want to get her out of there too,” he says as we’re walking toward the park. “But it’s too risky to leave the biodome now.”

  “Too risky? Surely someone can figure out how to fix the wall.”

  He exhales, watching a handful of kids on the play equipment. “I don’t know, Doc. When that chunk of wall fell, it bent the outer frame. We’ll have to see what Kirk says, but I suspect we’re running out of options.”

  We sit down on a park bench as the lights in the park flicker on.

  “I’m just another pair of hands, Lani, but you’re the only doctor these people have. With the situation as precarious as it is, they need you here.”

  We sit in silence, the cheerful voices of the kids needling my pain.

  “So what about Shannon?” I ask. “You know what those men are capable of. What sort of mother would I be if I didn’t try to help her?”

  He doesn’t have a response.

  I glance at my watch and then stand up. “I need to get back to work.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says without meeting my gaze.

  “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one,” I say, fighting back tears. “Unless you’re the one who’s asked to make the sacrifice.”

  He stands and takes my arm, and we start walking toward the clinic. “The moment everyone is safe, I’ll fly you to Catersville. We’ll find Shannon and get her out of there. You have my word.”

  “That’s not good enough.” I stop walking—the thought of those perverts putting their hands
all over Shannon making me sick to my stomach. “It will destroy her, Madders. Even if we eventually get her out, she’ll never be the same again.”

  He doesn’t respond.

  I turn and look at him. “I’m going after Shannon whether you help me or not.”

  “Lani…” He shuts his eyes for a moment and runs his hand over the back of his neck. “The next storm that comes through is going to tear that damaged section to shreds,” he says, glancing up at the roof. “And there’s a good chance it could take the rest of the biodome down with it.”

  “So we send out a crew to cut away the loose wall,” I say. “You can fly me out to Catersville while they’re fixing it. We’ll be back with Shannon in less than a week.”

  “You know it’s not that simple, Lani.” He pulls me back into a walk. “Getting to Catersville could take a week or more, and if we have problems finding gas or trouble with the plane…” He sighs. “Even if we manage to dodge this bullet, it’s only a matter of time before another section of the Bub fails. This biodome was built as a prototype. It was never meant to last this long, and we’re out of spare parts. She’s been a good ship, but it’s time to find a new home.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That we need to use the plane to locate Diego’s underground city. Kirk thinks it’s our best chance, and I agree.”

  I step around in front of him, forcing him to stop. “No, I’m not listening to this. Shannon was your responsibility. You told me she’d be safe—and I trusted you! Nadales may have talked me into letting her go, but she was in your plane. You have to help me get her back!”

  He puts his hands on my shoulders. “I love Shannon like my own daughter, Doc. Knowing what she must be going through is tearing me up inside, but I can’t walk away from my responsibilities here—and neither can you. Soon as the folks in the Bub are safe, I’ll do everything in my power to get Shannon back.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “Then I’ll go by myself. I’ll take what I can carry and hike to Tennessee.”

  “Listen to yourself, Lani!” He shakes my shoulders. “It’s over twelve hundred miles to Catersville, and it’s winter out there. It would take you weeks, probably months, to walk that far—assuming you don’t get sick or injured. And what are you going to do when you get there? Ring the doorbell?”