6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
B rayden received his first non-neighbor visitor the next day. Allen Lowe came brandishing a thin business suitcase and a no-nonsense fine woolen suit to match. As they sat down in the study, he plopped a thick folder on the desk. “The work will be extensive, but I trust you’ll enjoy it.”
Brayden eyed the stack of papers sticking out of the folder. More reports? True, he liked reading them, but… “You recalled me because of paperwork?”
“No. Some time ago, you expressed the desire to join the Science Division. Thanks to a vacancy, you now have the opportunity.”
A vacancy. No need to explain that one—not during these times.
“You’ll have a month to research. It might take more to get the project off the ground, so in October, as your furlough runs out, you’re free to leave again. Should you wish to stay, say so and we’ll handle it.”
Brayden pulled the folder toward him and slid over the blank cover. Wishing and being able to were two different things. And as much as his heart sang at the mention of the Science Division, it wasn’t that easy.
Lowe leaned forward. “Why are you so determined to go back to that chaos? Pardon me for saying it, but it’s not like you can’t be replaced. The country’s got plenty of soldiers. We have fewer time travelers.”
“My reasons are my own.”
“If it’s patriotism, you can express it in another way. Same with other moral notions. It’s a shame how we must lose perfectly fine men. As if history has taught us nothing.”
Brayden shifted in his seat. He didn’t need a yet another lecture on how he should stay at home. Caddie’s not-so-subtle hints yesterday were enough, making his conscience battle against reason, telling him if he had the choice, he shouldn’t put his life in danger because he didn’t want to face one person.
He cleared his throat, trying to redirect his thoughts to the good part of being home. “What is the project?”
“An important one. I believe you’ve heard of it. SP-59-02.”
No chance. Brayden flipped the folder open, nearly sending the first page flying in excitement. “I read the proposition for this. Healing. You’re talking of healing people with time travel.”
“Indeed.”
“I…” He shook his head. “But I’m not even in the Science Division yet. You’d entrust it to me?”
“Your father had a good reputation. And so far, so do you.” Lowe smiled. “For now, you’d only be doing research. Reading and analyzing a lot of things. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
It wouldn’t be—in the Legislative, it was pretty much all Brayden did.
“But.” Lowe stapled his hands. “It is time-sensitive, and the research you do will be critical in us getting the funding and moving forward. You do well, we get the project going. You can’t build a strong enough foundation, proof that it could work… we’ll have to move on to something else.”
And he wouldn’t be moving on to Science.
“Sadly, those are the times we live in,” Lowe said.
Brayden nodded in understanding. Years ago, before the Edict, before the war, Science wouldn’t have to fight for which project to put through. It felt strange, thinking about the times when the Watchers—at least the American branch—were still at full power. It’s been barely six years since Brayden had been recruited; thanks to the war, it felt more like a decade.
“Can we count on you, then?”
Brayden closed the folder. The problem wasn’t the work; it was the setting. He supposed Lowe wouldn’t allow him to take sensitive documents back to the field. He also supposed I don’t want to live with my wife would not work as an excuse. “Of course.”
“Splendid.” Lowe stood. “I’ll return in a few weeks to check on your progress. If there’s anything else you need, we’ve opened an office in Hartford—you’re aware of that?”
Brayden nodded. “I’ve heard Caldwell was to manage it.”
“Indeed. It’ll be more convenient for a few of you.”
And mostly for Caldwell. The old man hated trains and getting to the Watchers’ offices in Boston or New York was a major inconvenience.
Their business concluded, Brayden accompanied Lowe to the hallway. Right after his superior left, a shadow passed at the edge of Brayden’s vision. Fabienne stopped on the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
Despite his casual tone, her shoulders pulled back, and her voice carried a trace of defensiveness. “Walking.”
Yesterday, for a brief moment, he thought she’d changed. That cheeky remark about his pronunciation—it was like the Fabienne of old. But it was probably wishful thinking.
“May I?” she asked.
“By all means.” He moved aside to allow her to the door. “I’ve invited our neighbors for dinner tomorrow. The cook is working on a menu, and Mrs. Beasley will handle everything. Unless you’d like some input?”
She stared at him. Was she considering it? “Anything is fine with me.” She brushed past him without another look, and the door clicked shut behind her.
Yes. Wishful thinking.
***
Robbins was waiting for her at the cabin. Fabienne stopped at the doorway, and for a few seconds, they stared at each other. A knowing smile spread across his face.
“Fine,” she grunted. “I came. Tell me more about this offer of yours.”
Robbins gestured for her to sit, and she did so, eyeing a leather bag set on the table. He took the opposite chair. “You believe me?”
“I’m not even certain of what you’re saying. You mentioned time travel . How can you expect me to believe that?”
“But it is the only way,” Robbins said quietly. “An opportunity you can’t afford to miss.”
Shivers spread up her arm. Fabienne rubbed her sleeve, keeping her hands in her lap. “To begin with, how would it even be possible? And how could you keep it secret?”
“It’s not as hard as you think. We’ve learned to be cautious. Know our limits. Time travel isn’t tearing a wall down with a hammer to enact change. It’s more like making a small hole in the wall to see to the other side first, and act on that.”
“If you’re so secretive, why risk bringing me into it?”
“Will you tell anyone?” Robbins inspected her with soft eyes, but a sneaky smile. He knew fair well she wouldn’t go telling this around—she didn’t need more things to add to her already suspicious behavior.
After her silence, he continued, “We believe you’re a good candidate, and you’re conveniently located.”
“In Hartford?”
“In general.”
She suppressed the desire to huff.
“And you possess a crucial piece of equipment. Your watch. Did you bring it?”
Fabienne reached into her pocket. “How do you know of it?”
“Yours is not a regular watch, is it? It won’t work.”
Did he have to be so damn elusive? She thought of denying it and getting out of here—that would serve him right, for playing games with her! But as long as there was a tiny chance of salvation, she couldn’t squander it. With a clenching of her fists, she pushed her pride aside and brought the watch out.
Robbins’ eyes gleamed as she set it on the table. “Beautiful.”
“Why does this sound like a plot to relieve me of my watch?”
He laughed. “No such thing, madam. I have no designs on it—I already have my own.” He pushed aside his jacket, revealing a pocket watch attached to his waistcoat. “Like yours, it allows for time travel.”
“Then how come I never time traveled before? I’ve had this watch for nearly my entire life.” She frowned, the memory of the morning in New York nibbling at her. Had something happened? Robbins’ claim could almost serve as an explanation…
“You wouldn’t be able to. You’d need this first.” He took a long wooden box out of the bag and opened it. The cushioned interior held a glass vial, filled with dark blue liquid, and—a syringe?
Robbins lifted the vial and swished the liquid. “We call it almonite. By injecting this preparation into our bloodstream, the almonite affects our cells. In theory, it makes us able to travel on our own, but it’s difficult and unpredictable. The watches are our instruments; they help us regulate where we’re going. Each of them has a small piece of almonite in it.”
He set the vial on the table. “Now you , my dear Mrs. Marshall, have not yet had any contact with the serum. We’ll need to perform the procedure first. This will temporarily allow your corporeal displacement.”
She recoiled, the chair screeching. “I hadn’t agreed to anything yet. You intend to put that in me?”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds. There are possible side effects at the beginning, but nothing too severe. Headaches, perhaps some nausea, trouble sleeping.”
“You’re not doing yourself any favors.”
“It’s a small price to pay to save your siblings, is it not?”
“I don’t know the full price. All you’d done is make vague promises. I… I don’t even… it can’t be!” She stood and made an agitated circle around the small room. She swept her arm at the table. “All of this, it can’t be real. Almonite. Special watches. Time travel.” Her voice broke. She wanted to believe it with every force in her body—and at the same time, she sickened at the thought of falling for it, of even contemplating it. It wasn’t fair the only way to remedy her mistakes would be a fantasy.
“How can I prove it to you?” Robbins said. “I’d already shown you I had information of events previous to them existing. Will another weather forecast do? Something else?”
She continued to pace.
“Or will you believe if you try it yourself?”
She stopped.
“I have the almonite right here.” He played with the bottle. “We can do an injection. As this is your first time, it’ll need a few weeks to settle. But after that, you can try time travel yourself. Will you be able to deny that?”
She approached the table, eyes fixed on the bottle.
“The substance allows corporeal displacement only temporarily. It’ll pass out of your system in a month, should you choose not to proceed with the mission.”
“Assuming I believe that…” She sat back down. “How exactly would it save my family?”
Robbins’ eyes lit up. “I can’t divulge all the details yet, but we have it all thought out. We would adjust small details of the past to lead you to a desired result. You wouldn’t need to do any of it—it’s finicky work, and best left to our experts. But what you can do in return is act out a mission for us. A package delivery.”
“Doesn’t sound like one would need time travel for that.”
“The circumstances of the delivery are somewhat unusual. You’ll only have one chance, and for that reason, you need to be well-prepared. In the months we’ll train—”
“Months?”
“Yes. This would last until the next spring.”
No. No chance—she couldn’t stay here for this long. “Can’t we move it forward? It’s time travel. Does it really matter when—”
“I’m sorry, but no.” While still kind, Robbins’ tone sharpened. “We have a set schedule.”
And I have my goddamn husband back. “What if I only agreed to this if we could do it quicker?”
Robbins watched her with slightly narrowed eyes. “Then I would say the timetable is not up to me, but I see no reason why you wouldn’t be willing to wait a few months more to reverse something as substantial as death.”
Of course he didn’t understand. He didn’t know about her amnesia, and probably not about her unusual marriage, either. What would her excuse be? I don’t want to continue to live with my husband?
“ May I take your silence as agreement?”
Disgruntled, she nodded.
“Then we only need to do two more things. One, I’ll need to take your watch in for maintenance. You’ll get it back at the next meeting,” he added as she opened her mouth to object. “The almonite part tends to wear over time. It’s a standard repair procedure for all watches. Nothing to worry about.”
The way he talked made her nothing but worried.
“Second, of course, the almonite injection.” Robbins motioned to the syringe.
She stifled a groan, though the discomfort was probably still obvious on her face. “This might be a good time to reveal you have a medical degree.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you. But it will be as safe as any doctor treating you. And the symptoms, should they appear, will pass within days. We’ll wait for your body to accept the substance and meet again in three weeks for your test travel.”
“So, to summarize, you’re planning to drug me and abscond with my watch.”
Robbins smiled. “Then return your watch in better condition and teach you a method that will change your life.”
She perked up. “When you say you’d change the past—allegedly—so my brother and sister were still alive… what would happen to the time after their current deaths? Would that change as well?”
“To some degree. It all depends on how the changes are made. We have ways of preserving certain events.”
“And repealing others?”
“Certainly.”
She could ask them to change this—her life here, her marriage. If… if it was all real.
She took in Robbins’ cheerful, trustful face. Perhaps it was his enthusiasm, the way he talked about all of this as if it were ordinary practice, or perhaps she badly needed to believe in a solution, but something in her convictions clicked… and begged her to believe. To go forward with it. The war, the soldiers, Slick—they all played a role in the death of her siblings. But as much as she ranted about it, that morning, she pushed the watch into Antoine’s hand, she insisted on them remaining there, she made a ruckus and caused the altercation with the gang. This was on her, too. It was her responsibility.
She rolled up her sleeve and put her arm on the table. “Let’s do it.”
Half a year. Husband or not, she could deal with that. She would deal with that. She’d get Antoine and Marion back. No matter what. No matter who.