Mend (Rift Walkers #2) by Elana Johnson
Her eyes fill with water and her hands shake. “No, he’s not here. I thought he was with you.” She searches the space behind me too. “He’s not with you?”
“Well, he was, but we—we got separated.” I suddenly wish I hadn’t come. I should’ve realized when Heath didn’t answer my hails that he wasn’t around.
His mom steps back. “Come in.”
The last thing I want to do is enter the house and have her seal me inside. But I do, and I continue into the kitchen. Heath’s mom follows me, tapping at something on the counter.
“I’ve even asked Cooper about Heath.”
“Cooper?” I lift my eyes to hers. I didn’t know they spoke about their oldest son, who stepped through the rift and assumed a dangerous alternate identity. Heath spoke with me about his brother, I thought, because his parents wouldn’t.
She indicates the counter, and I peer at the message boards she brought up. I don’t recognize the feed, maybe because my timeline has changed. I don’t really know all the time ripples that will affect me from my dad having a completely different life, in a completely different building.
I remember losing my access to the Circuit last time our reality changed, but that doesn’t seem to be the case this time.
“I don’t know what this is.” I glance from her to the counter. There’s a message from someone named Twilight, but it only says I see nothing.
“This is a private feed,” she says. “Cooper taught me how to secure the line. Twilight is Heath’s girlfriend’s handle.”
My mind warps around the fact that Mrs. Stonesman is talking about private feeds and secure lines and Twilight.
I’d forgotten that about Soda. I also didn’t know Heath was still talking to her, under the right identity or an alternate.
Heath’s mom taps and types One came back. More soon.
If their line is really that secure, she’d say more. I’m glad she doesn’t.
She closes the feed and flops onto the nearby barstool. “Tell me where you went, Price.” Her green eyes sharpen. “I want to know everything.”
Cascade
MY STOMACH LURCHES LIKE SOMEONE’S FORCED me to swallow poison. A powerful sense of terror grips my heart, seizing my muscles.
Heath takes a step without me, and our hands pull. “Cas?” He peers at me with concern in his eyes, like he can see my illnesses written on my skin.
“I don’t think we should go this way.” I look to my right, but there’s nothing there. I can’t see anything but whiteness in any direction, as usual inside the rift. When I’d first started walking for Guy, the fogginess unsettled me, made me wave my hand in front of my face for unseen barriers that didn’t exist.
I feel just as unsettled now as I did on my first solo walk. That was a success, I tell myself, though hardly anyone on this planet would count what I used to do for Guy as successes. If I allow myself too much time to dwell on what I did for him, the self-loathing is too deep, too desperate, too difficult to accept.
“Can we actually go a different way?” Heath asks, drawing me away from my past.
“Yes.” I step to my right, bringing him with me. “I’m not sure what Payton Openshaw looks like,” I continue. “But I think he was the one who stalked me at the library, and was following me back to the rift site.”
“Tall guy,” Heath says. “Boxy shoulders. I couldn’t really tell what he looked like other than that. He was only illuminated by that freaky rift light.”
“This guy was tall and boxy. Didn’t you say he was married, with a baby?”
“Five years in the future he was,” Heath says.
He could be anyone now. I remember the tall man, the dark hair, a little long over his ears. His eyes were dark, but burned with a fire that spoke of danger, and anger, and malice.
“He scared me,” I admit. “As soon as I saw him at the gelato stand and then the library, I knew he was following me.” I take another step, and my left calf cramps. Every second I’m in this rift, I think of the number of cells I’m losing. At the same time, the thought of going the wrong way, to the wrong place, or the wrong time, has my indecision at an all-time high.
“How’d you get away?” Heath asked. “I didn’t actually see anyone following you.”
“I slipped into the bathroom and out the window.”
“Classic.”
“Too classic,” I say. “A mistake. He was behind me in only about a minute. When I turned the corner, I ran. That’s how I got ahead of him.”
I glance over my shoulder, like Payton will be there. But Cedar was going to blow this rift—another reason we need to get out as quickly as possible.
Something prickles on my arms, running up to my shoulders and down my spine.
“Heath, something’s not right.”
“What?” he asks, but before he can answer, the invisible ground beneath our feet vibrates.
Panic shoots through all my limbs. “We need to get out.”
Without another warning, we run in the direction we’d been walking. We only make it a few steps before a man appears in the whiteness.
The same man who’d followed me to the library.
Payton Openshaw.
Cascade
MY FEET STOP LIKE THEY’VE BEEN SET IN CEMENT. My chest shakes with adrenaline, anger, anxiety.
“Hello,” he says in a pleasant voice, like he’s just met us for lunch in the park.
I spin and run back the way we came, though I really don’t think going that way is the right decision. Doesn’t matter. Going with Payton Openshaw certainly isn’t an option.
Heath’s hand becomes dead weight, and a shock runs from his fingers into mine. Out of instinct, I release him, watch him fall as his eyes roll back in his head and his muscles twitch and twitch and twitch.
Payton strides toward us, the electroray he’s used on Heath held loosely in his hand like it’s a natural appendage.
“You shot him!” Rage bolts to the top of my skull.
He raises the weapon. “And you’ll be next if you don’t cooperate.” He stops several paces away, far out of arm’s reach. “You’ll be coming with me either way.”
I lift my chin. “Oh yeah?”
“Come now, Chloe.” His reedy voice saying the wrong name itches under my skin. “Don’t make this difficult.”
“You did that when you pulled out the ray.”
“He wasn’t going to come willingly.”
“I won’t either.”
A slow smile spreads his mouth. “Oh, I think you will.”
I shuffle an inch backward, needing more distance between us. He speaks with such surety, my confidence wavers.
“See,” he says, taking a casual step to my left and glancing down at the still form of Heath. “I can give you what you want.”
“You don’t know what I want.”
“Of course I do.” He blinks, and his eyes change from gray to green. His hair lightens significantly, turning almost blonde. Freckles pop out on his skin.
My breath sticks behind my ribs. “Dad?”
He sends a laugh into the white sky. “If that’s what you want to believe.”
“Where are you from?” I ask, because this man is not my father. Sure, he may look like him, but that could be a ploy. I’ve used such technology to mask my own features.
“I believe your mother labeled it VersC,” Payton says. “When we wanted to take your father there to see it, she didn’t like that. See, she wasn’t exactly sure what lay on the other side of the portal, and she didn’t know how long she could keep it open.” He settles his weight on one leg like we’re having a civilized conversation. “Apparently Carl was too big of a sacrifice, a weakness we didn’t know she had. We thought she’d do anything for success.”
The only thing I can think to ask is, “We?” My brain hums with the things he’s said, and I wish I had in my cybernetics to record this conversation and play it back later, riddle it out, make it mean something.
“My father
“Where is he now?”
The man gestures back the way he came. “Waiting to talk to you and your boyfriend.”
I don’t correct him on the boyfriend issue. Not worth it, and his mistake might be my advantage.
“He can give you answers,” Payton says. “Make the puzzle complete.”
I squint at him like that will tell me if he can read minds, because he was right. He does know exactly what I want.
“So, Chloe,” he continues. “Will you be as difficult as your boyfriend?” He holds up his hands in a placating stance. “We just want to talk.”
I glance around the rift, my thoughts tumbling, tumbling, tumbling. “How will we get back?”
“Same way we go.”
“How long will this take?”
“Depends on how many questions you have.”
“You’ll let us come back?”
“Of course.” If this man is lying, he’s exceptionally skilled at it.
“What do you want with us?”
“Everything you want to know lies just outside the rift.” He reaches toward me, but doesn’t invade my personal space. “I’ll carry the boy. We’ll go together.”
I glance at Heath, his face pale and his chest barely rising with breath. I want answers. I want the rifts to disappear—after I’ve figured out where to stay with Price.
Maybe it’s time to find out everything Orville Openshaw knows.
“Fine,” I say, bending down. “But I’m carrying the boy.”
It only takes a few steps to get out of the rift, which makes no sense. I wonder if Payton had some way to keep the rift from letting us out, if we could’ve been trapped inside forever.
Heath weighs more than I can feasibly carry for more than a few steps, but I refuse to let Payton take him. I need to be the one he sees when he stirs; he needs to know his role here.
When I step from the nothingness onto a paved road, I lay Heath on the ground as gently as I can. Which means I basically drop him. My biceps burn, as does the back of my throat. I cough and cough and cough.
Thankfully, the drop—or maybe my hacking cough—brings Heath back from unconsciousness. His eyelids flutter open.
I lean over him, placing a kiss on his cheek before lowering my lips closer to his earlobe.
“He thinks you’re my boyfriend. Act like Price.”
I get jerked away from Heath by Payton, who wears the angriest look I’ve seen through decades of time traveling. I have a hard time believing this universe where his father lives is so magical if Payton’s so furious. Or maybe that’s why he’s disgruntled—his dad lives here all the time and he’s only allowed to visit.
No matter the reason, I shrink away from him and let him help Heath to his feet. Heath flinches back and his fists flex and release. Flex and release. I try to warn him away from throwing a punch in Payton’s direction, but it’s not necessary. Heath isn’t stupid.
He heaves one more breath and falls back another step. “Who are you?”
Payton lifts his hands in surrender. “I’m just the messenger.” He gestures down the road. “My father wants to meet you.”
Heath steps to me, looking into my eyes and sweeping his fingertips down my arms, like he’s checking to see if I’m okay. I should be doing the same to him. After all, he’s the one who got hit with the electroray.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, though my legs feel like jelly and I need a drink more than I need another breath. “And you’re heavy.” I give him half a smile and glance down the road where Payton indicated. “What universe are we in?”
“I believe it was named the Global Verse.”
My dad had called it that, but he’d also said it was similar to ours, not superior. I latch onto Heath’s hand and squeeze, hoping to communicate something to him. What, I’m not sure. He wasn’t there when Saige and I questioned our dad about the multiple universes connected to ours.
We landed on the outskirts of town, but soon enough, buildings line the streets. I’m glad I frontloaded this walk with a dozen pills. Pills that are supposed to protect against the weakness invading my muscles, the brittleness in my ankles every time I step, the scrubbed out feeling in my lungs.
I miss a step and Heath keeps me upright. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t have to. He’s already taken care of me after two major rift walks where I’ve deteriorated before his eyes.
The green grass along the immaculate sidewalks speaks of a gardener, one obsessed with details. The buildings are made from gray or white stone, and they stretch toward a star-filled sky.
No one speaks as we enter a square filled with bright lights. Several people linger near the fountains, drinking from coffee cups and nibbling on cookies. My throat yearns for just a sip of whatever they’re drinking, and I work up a bit of saliva so I can swallow.
A domed building sits across the square—the capitol, I’m assuming. I try to imagine what’s here in my version of Castle Pines. I can’t picture it—our downtown is much further from the suburbs than how far we walked.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“This is the city of Eagle Valley.”
I exchange a glance with Heath. I feel like I’ve entered a different world—and technically, I have. I wonder if I can come here with Price, get away from his father and his rift-walking contracts, and live the rest of my life in obscurity.
Payton leads us through the square, and the wide berth the general population gives him isn’t lost on me. Cedar called him a time lord, and I wonder if that’s how people here see him too. No matter what, they avert their eyes and move out of his path like he’s a hurricane force they don’t want to deal with.
On the other side of the capitol building stretches a monstrous skyscraper, with a green leaf logo at the top. “The Global Initiative” spans the width of the building. I almost snort at the audacity of it.
“Orville really isn’t shy, is he?” I whisper to Heath, who gives me a sarcastic smirk.
“How are we gonna get out of here?” he whispers back.
Payton glances over his shoulder, his dark eyes shooting us a warning, and I don’t answer. I have no idea how we’re going to get out of here. I don’t know if I want to get out of here. More like just bring Price here. Maybe Saige and Shep, especially since I know my brother’s future health problems.
I stumble when I realize my dad could be here. Maybe we could make up for the years we lost, though a twitch of anger accompanies the thought. I wish he and Mom would’ve told me the truth all those years ago.
“Hey,” I say as another thought occurs to me. “Do I have an alternate persona living here?”
Payton’s shoulders flinch, but he doesn’t turn and he doesn’t answer.
Heath says, “Alternate persona?”
“There are version of us in every verse,” I whisper to him. “Remember how Orville looked just like Price’s great-grandfather?”
Heath’s mouth tightens and he focuses forward. With every step, I feel more and more confined to this universe, closer and closer to unconsciousness too. We step up to the Global Initiative building, and Payton swipes a card through a reader to allow us entrance.
Heath’s hand tightens on mine as we slide into the heated interior. I expect to be whisked up an elevator and behind more locked doors. Instead, Payton crosses the expansive lobby and rounds a corner. We meet a door that stands two stories tall, made of sleek silver and radiating a chill I feel in my blood.
Payton presses an invisible button next to the door and stands back.
“Authorization?” a voice asks.
“Payton Openshaw.”
Nothing happens. Next to me, Heath shuffles back half a step, and my muscles tense for flight, though I know I won’t even make it around the corner. I’m leaning on Heath as it is. He doesn’t look at me, and he doesn’t complain. He just tucks me into his side and al
“Enter.” The voice fills the hallway, but it’s cool, round tone doesn’t soothe me. I really don’t want to be shut behind that door.
Peyton steps forward and grips the door handle with both hands. His body jolts, but he holds on tight. A moment later, the door begins to swing out. It takes a few minutes for Payton to get the door open enough to hold. I realize the genius in this design. Someone can storm the door and slip in through a crack.
If Payton doesn’t get the door open far enough, it slams back closed. And he has to heave it out into the hallway, not in to the office.
Brilliant.
Once again, Payton stands back and makes Heath and I enter first. Once again, we enter side-by-side.
A long hallway stretches before us, and our footsteps echo in the tall space. At the intersection, the hall branches to the left and to the right.
“Left,” Payton commands, and I wait until Heath makes the turn so my reliance on him isn’t too obvious. I grip his waist tighter than I mean to, because I have a nest of snakes writhing in my stomach.
The hall expands into a room. A room with a wall of ground-floor windows on my right, blinded against the night beyond them. A thick layer of carpet covers the floor, and plants crowd the space in front of me. If not for the man rising from the recliner on my left, I’d think this room a great way to waste an afternoon.
“Chloe,” Orville Openshaw says, his light brown hair and pale-as-ice blue eyes oh-so-familiar. Almost as familiar as the hatred roiling in my gut.
“My name is not Chloe,” I say, simply because my mouth is one part of my body that doesn’t feel like its disintegrating.
He simply smiles. “Well, that works out really well, doesn’t it?”
I have no idea what he means. I’ve learned to hold my tongue when I don’t know exactly how the scenario is going to play out. And I’m way out of my league here.
“What do you want?” Heath asks.
His gaze lands heavily on Heath, on his arm around my shoulders. “I want you to stop messing with my timeline.”