“Don’t you worry, honey,” he said to her soothingly. “We’ll find your dad once we get you back to the mainland. You won’t be out on your own for long.”
Gee, thanks, she thought sarcastically. “Gosh, thanks!” she chirped. “I’m ever so frightened.” She laid it so thick that any right-thinking person would have convulsed with laughter, but in this universe, the man just nodded gravely and patted her condescendingly on the head.
He maintained a steady stream of nauseatingly infantile comfort chatter as he tugged her along. In this world, any female under the age of thirty was clearly considered mentally defective. And probably the ones over thirty, too. She considered trying to break free, but there was nowhere to go. Before she got back to Manhattan, though, she would have to get away from this guy. Her Good Samaritan very clearly intended not to let her out of his sight until he saw her safely companioned.
As they emerged onto the ferry dock, she was both relieved and disheartened to see a ferry already stationed there. EMTs and cops and firemen (the word was depressingly not exclusionary here) spilled out of the ferry, some of them moving off to one side with medical equipment, still more of them moving into position to guide the evacuees. And some of them pushed into the crowd, heading right for the place everyone was fleeing.
Into the fire, she thought. No matter what the universe, they go into the fire when everyone else runs from it.
Just then a group of cops broke away from the pack and headed off to her left, shouting. Moira twisted around to see why, painfully bending her arm.
The cops were chasing someone at the edge of the crowd—a small, slim figure.
Khalid!
SIXTY-ONE
When the ferry docked, Khalid knew he would have to emerge from his hiding place on board. Sure enough, as soon as he did, a cop spotted him, confirming Khalid’s long-held suspicion that he would, in fact, make the world’s worst ninja.
“Hey!” the cop shouted, and brandished his stun stick. “Get over here!”
Why on earth anyone would go toward the person carrying a weapon that zapped you with electricity, Khalid couldn’t possibly imagine. He decided not to debate the logic or illogic of it with the cop, though, and instead faked left, then darted to his right, dancing around the cop, who had lunged in the wrong direction.
I can’t believe he fell for that! Do they not have football in this universe?
Khalid’s glee fueled his mad dash up a flight of tenuous, shivering stairs and out onto the open deck of the ferry. Emergency responders milled all around him, guiding people onto the ferry from the dock. Khalid paused for a second and scanned the crowd for Zak and Moira. Nothing.
From belowdecks came a shout, and the stairs started vibrating as the cop stomped his way up. Khalid briefly considered kicking the guy in the face as he popped up from below, but violence wasn’t really his style. Besides, better to put more distance between them.
He raced toward the dock, weaving in and out and around the emergency workers, who yelled out annoyed epithets in his wake. He ignored them. After finding the lifted gate through which the crew was unloading equipment, he jumped through it, pinwheeling his arms and legs madly in the air as he sailed over the gap between the boat and the dock.
Ka-thump! He stuck the landing and bounced ahead, not missing a stride. Behind him a cry went up, and several cops spilled down the gangway in his direction. Ha. Walking was for suckers.
“Stop him!” someone shouted. “Grab that kid!”
Khalid pumped his arms and cut left, diving right into the crowd of evacuees.
* * *
Moira jerked her arm hard, breaking loose from the guy who was holding her. “Don’t be afraid!” he shouted, and she wanted to yell back, I’m not, you idiot! but there was no point. She pushed against the flow of the crowd, moving toward Khalid. Her would-be rescuer gave up as he was carried along by the throng, closer to the ferry.
Three cops were chasing Khalid, fighting the tide of evacuees. Khalid, smaller and nimbler, was able to bob and weave through the crowd, but the cops had authority and weapons on their side—a corridor began to form as people parted, and when it was over, Khalid would be all too easily captured.
“Hey!” Moira shouted, jumping up and down. “Hey, I’m all alone! I don’t know what to do! Help me!”
The cops paused for a moment, turning in Moira’s direction. She kept jumping up and down.
“My companion isn’t here! What am I supposed to do? I’m just a stupid dingbat frau, and I’m all alone.”
She espied Khalid making his way through a door up ahead as the cops conferred briefly. Two of them kept chasing Khalid, and one of them made his way to Moira. Great. Just one knight in shining armor, when she’d been hoping for three.
“Okay, little girl,” the cop said, “you’re going to be all right. Don’t worry. I’m here now.” He held out his hand to take hers, and Moira kicked him between the legs with every ounce of energy in her.
She felt a tiny bit sorry about doing it. No matter how rooted in ingrained misogyny and culturally embedded sexism, his actions really were aimed at sincerely trying to help her. But mostly she felt pretty good about her decision. This whole universe needed a good kick in the balls, as far as she was concerned.
The cop’s mouth ovaled into a perfect upside-down egg shape; Moira could practically see his uvula. For a single instant there was no sound, and then he grabbed between his legs and howled and dropped to his knees.
All around her, the crowd began moving away from Moira even more quickly. Without sparing a further moment or a further thought for the cop, she charged away in the direction of Khalid and the other police.
SIXTY-TWO
The superway train picked up speed as it plunged through the tunnel. Zak was almost able to convince himself that he was back home on the subway, underground, not encased in a tube ten feet above sea level like a pebble in a straw. Ahead lay only darkness, interrupted by the superway’s powerful headlight. The tube was almost preternaturally clean and smooth, frictionless. Unlike a subway, the superway did not bump or stutter or clatter as it raced ahead.
Between the recycling facility’s blaring klaxons, the warning voice-over, and the endless bleating from the superway’s control panel, Zak’s head threatened to explode. Three different sounds, three different patterns, three different rhythms assaulted him on an eternal loop. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. No need to pay attention. There was only one way to go, and he wasn’t worried about crashing, after all.
This was the only way. He knew that he wasn’t as smart as Moira, but he had a good head on his shoulders, La-La liked to say. His options were limited to staying in this world or rescuing Tommy. The only choice that made any kind of sense was to rescue Tommy. He couldn’t imagine living in this world with the knowledge that he could have helped Tommy and hadn’t done so. Maybe, given time, there could be another way. This world was a wonderland of magical science, and Zak had only seen the smallest part of it.
But Tommy had been trapped in the limbo between life and death for too long already. Who knew how much longer he could survive there before pushing on to whatever lay beyond—to a place where not even Zak could reach him? No, all those years of limbo was too much; Zak would not make Tommy suffer one moment longer.
A pang of guilt touched his heart, making it leap like it used to back in the days when it was defective. Leaving Moira and Khalid alone … That wasn’t the best he could do, but they were resourceful and would figure out a way to thrive here, he knew. Even Moira. If anyone could overcome this world’s lunacy, she could.
He allowed himself a few seconds to think of his parents and was surprised to find a deep, dull ache in his chest for them. The anger he’d felt had corroded while he wasn’t looking, pieces of it flaking away until what was left was a soft, heavy wad of regret. They had done something wrong, something very bad, but their intentions had been good. He didn’t forgive them—he wasn’t there, not yet??
?but he thought maybe he could understand.
Maybe someday I’ll see them again, and I can try to forgive them then. We’ll see.
The internal warning alarm jumped to a new level of obnoxious aural pain. If it had been a shout before, it was a scream now. He must be getting closer and closer to the air cushion. He opened his eyes and checked the control panel. What had been a yellow flashing light before was now orange, edging into red. An animated schematic showed the train’s resolute path toward the air cushion, represented on the board as a glowing red cloud with an exclamation mark at its center.
RE-ENGAGE SAFETY PROTOCOL! the board advised. A large, pulsating button throbbed next to it, with the word ENGAGE bisecting it.
No, thank you, Zak thought.
He looked up to gaze through the windshield again, wondering if he would actually see the air cushion or if it was invisible. His reflection stared back at him. When had his eyes become so haunted? When had his cheeks become so drawn? His heart had been repaired, his health never better, but he looked sicker than ever before in his life.
And then, even though he was standing still, his reflection moved.
Tommy?
The thought came to him instantly. The reflection nodded, and the sounds of the alarms, the warnings, the klaxons, all receded, and he could hear only his twin’s voice, so similar to his own.
We’re close again, Tommy said. Close like death.
This is the only time you can see me.
No. It’s the only time you can see me. I can see you all the time, Zak. I just can’t always communicate with you.
Well, I—
You have to turn back, Zak. Now. There’s still time.
No. This is what I’m doing. I’ve decided. You can’t stop me.
Zak, your dying won’t solve anything.
It will bring you back. It’ll break the wall between life and death. I go one way; you go the other.
No. You’ve been tricked. By Godfrey.
Zak boggled. It was strange for his doppelgänger in the windshield not to reflect his expression. What do you mean? You sent me images of the boat. Of Godfrey. You wanted me here. You told me to—
No. The reflection shook his head while Zak’s stayed still. That wasn’t me. I tried to warn you away. I told you not to trust him. But he’s more powerful than I am, Zak. He masqueraded as me. He drew you here, knowing that he could use you to break the walls between the worlds.
What? But wait—if that was true, if Godfrey could pretend to be Tommy … then how did he know this wasn’t Godfrey right now? Maybe Zak’s plan would rescue Tommy but not Godfrey, so Godfrey was trying to stop him. Or maybe Godfrey just didn’t think it would work and was trying to stop Zak the best way he knew how.
Zak shook his head and turned away from the windshield. None of it made sense. He’d been speaking to Tommy, but it had been Godfrey … sometimes?
Zak, don’t listen to him! said a new voice, the same as the old voice. He’s Godfrey, pretending to me! You have to keep the superway going! It’s the only way!
Zak spun around. His reflection had split in two, one in each pane of the windshield.
We’re so close! said the reflection on the left. You’ve come this far—don’t ruin it now!
No, said the one on the right. You don’t gain anything if you die. Trust me; I’ve been there.
You have to risk it all, Zak. It’s the only way. I know it seems crazy, but you have to trust me.
If you die, that’s the end. There’s no way to get you back. There’s no way for me to come back. It’s impossible to break the walls between life and death.
It’s not only possible, Zak, but you’re about to do it! Godfrey is terrified that if you do, only I will come through because we’re twins. That’s why he’s trying to stop you. So that he can manipulate you into freeing him.
Don’t believe him! It doesn’t work that way. All you’ll do is kill yourself and many, many other people. You could rip a hole in the universe, and who knows what that could do?
Zak put his hands over his ears and shouted at the top of his lungs, but the voices weren’t in his ears or even in his brain. They were in his soul. He couldn’t stop them no matter how much he tried.
—going to kill everyone—
—rescue me without killing—
—no way to change the—
—there’s nothing to do but let the train—
—so close to death—
Zak’s eyes snapped open. So close to death. So close to—
That was it. So close to death.
Tommy had told him, back in the alley, that he could only communicate with Zak when Zak was close to death. Like now. And like in the alley, when his heart had been dying.
But then Moira said later that she had seen Tommy, that Tommy had led her to Dr. White-eagle’s.
If it was true that only Zak could see Tommy and only when close to death, then how could Moira have seen him?
And if it wasn’t true that Zak could only see Tommy when close to death, then why had Tommy said so?
And when he’d seen Godfrey on his way to Dr. White-eagle’s, why had he thought he sounded like Tommy? Unless …
All Zak knew for certain was that Moira had seen Tommy. Because she’d made her way to Dr. White-eagle’s.
Moira had seen Tommy. Or Godfrey pretending to be Tommy.
And Tommy had manifested at the Conflux, when Zak had been nowhere near death.
One way or the other …
“Someone’s lying to me,” Zak said aloud.
Khalid. He needed Khalid here to help him figure it out. What had Khalid said? He’d said to think about it. He’d said things didn’t make sense.
He called me a terrorist. But—
The warning alarm went from scream to shriek; if a computer could be hysterical, the one controlling the superway was now in a full-blown panic attack.
The two reflections kept shouting. Zak ignored them.
He called me a terrorist, but that’s not what I am. Those guys flew planes into buildings. I’m just driving a train into—
Oh, man.
He stared in horror at the control panel, realizing. Finally realizing what he was about to do.
He’d been so sure of himself, and at the same time so distracted.…
And now it was too late.
SIXTY-THREE
Khalid figured the cops wouldn’t bother chasing someone going into the facility. Their job was help people get out, right? But he’d thought wrong. Clearly, they were going to chase him down and drag him out of the dangerous situation, no matter his eagerness to hurl himself into harm’s way. Under normal circumstances he’d be impressed by their dedication, but right now it aggravated him. He wanted to stop running, get his bearings, find Zak and Moira before they could do something stupid. And then, ideally, they would all do something else stupid together and get out of this mess and off this island.
He slipped into the building through a door left open by the fleeing, panicked masses. He hadn’t lost the cops just yet, but they were still a ways behind him, pushing through the crowd. People kept stopping them to ask questions or request help, and it was slowing them down.
He was in the lobby of what was, just as the Dutchmen’s plans had said, the SOUTHERN CONFLUX ELECTROLEUM RECLAMATION FACILITY, according to a large sign just under another sign that read WELCOME, VISITORS! Under the name of the facility was a logo of a C and a T tied together by a lightning bolt, with the words A CONSOLIDATED TESLA PROGRAM.
The lobby was large, its floor clad in limestone. Along the walls were lighted dioramas showing what Khalid assumed to be the history of the facility or the company or both. Interesting stuff, maybe, but not anything he had time for right now.
Ahead of him, there was a curved, chest-high desk. Some kind of security post or welcome desk. It was, like the rest of the lobby and most likely the rest of the building, unoccupied, having been abandoned when the alarms went out. The “feminist army” i
s in the house, and everyone’s running scared.
Frosted glass doors were positioned on either side of the welcome desk. Khalid couldn’t tell if they went to different places or joined together once breached. He paused a second to check his Wonder Glass, and just then the two cops caught up to him.
One grabbed him by the shoulder. “Gotcha!”
Khalid struggled against the cop who was holding him, but to no avail. The man was bigger and stronger and just plain meaner—he didn’t seem to mind that the bones in Khalid’s shoulder were grinding together painfully under his grasp.
“Let go of me!” Khalid yelled. “I need to get in there!”
“Are you nuts? This whole place could blow up at any second. You’re coming with us.”
“You don’t understand!” Khalid said as they dragged him toward the exit. “I need to be here! My friends are in there!”
“Stop distracting us and we’ll go get them!” the cop with his hands on Khalid shouted.
“Whoa, wait a sec!” said the other cop, and held up a cautionary hand. Both cops stopped, and Khalid saw over their shoulders that someone was sprawled on the floor just inside the door to the building.
Bright red hair.
Moira.
* * *
One cop dragged Khalid along and the other approached her, looming over her in that way only cops can loom. Moira pitched her voice low and breathy.
“Help,” she whined.
The cop with free hands waved his partner to go through to the dock. “Don’t worry,” he said to Moira. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’ll live to have babies.”
“I did something to my ankle,” she said pathetically, reaching up to him. “You’ll have to carry me.”
The cop stooped over to scoop her up, and as soon as he was down there, Moira struck.
Moira went for the throat, just as she’d been taught in her self-defense classes. She punched the cop in his exposed Adam’s apple. She’d heard once that it was possible to kill someone this way, and she hoped that it wasn’t true. She didn’t want to kill him, just disable him.