Chapter 25 #2
At first, I was glad for it because that meant the tunnels were no longer used by anyone, which to me translated to safe. But that’s until I got there and saw…
“It’s the runner,” Master Talik simply said.
The runner. Interesting choice of name for something that sat inside the large pipe, bolted to a rail on the floor.
If it were me, I’d call it something more practical—like a metal ribcage, as that’s exactly what it looked like: an open frame of rusted iron bars curved into a shape that was supposed to hold people, with a flat base that locked onto the track, and… that’s about it.
No roof. No walls. No straps.
“You’re joking,” said Levana, a tiny bit hopeful, but Master Talik wasn’t.
“The conduits still carry residual pulses every ninety seconds,” he said, checking the bolts on the runner with the same calm precision he’d used to dismantle that clock in the Labyrinth.
“The bursts of temporal energy were tied to the Great Clock itself back then and it’s a lot more work to undo that system than to leave it untouched”—he turned to look at us once—“for now. These runners catch the pulses and ride them.”
“And what are we supposed to do in there?” asked Cook, his voice shaking a little bit.
A shrug, and the Timekeeper said, “You hold on.”
As simple as that.
“So…the-the pulse comes and just pushes us all the way to the Court of Hearts?” I asked, naively hopeful—so very hopeful.
But Master Talik chuckled a little as he tightened something underneath the frame with a wrench. “The pulses will do that.” Pulses—plural.
And Mimi asked, “How many pulses, exactly?”
“About forty, if I’m not mistaken. Could be less…”
Forty.
Nobody spoke for a tick.
Then the Timekeeper stood up and said, “All of you—inside. Sit low, hold the bars, keep your arms in. If you feel sick, swallow it.” Yes, there was a good chance I was going to be sick.
The gears in my stomach were already malfunctioning.
“And if you scream…well.” Master Talik put his tools inside this small bag he’d tied around his hips underneath his clock—identical to the ones they’d made all of us wear, oversized and hooded.
Then he looked at us and smiled. “That’s fine.
Nobody can hear you this deep underground, anyhour. ”
That did not make me feel any better. In fact, it made me feel worse.
What do you mean—scream?—why would we need to be screaming?—how fast are the pulses—why would we need to be sick?!—how much time in total will this take?—I think I changed my mind…
We all spoke at the same time as Master Talik waved for us to keep moving, and we did.
We did climb into the metal ribcage. Sparetime save me, we all got in there, and it was tight, and we were all pressed together on the metal floor, knees drawn up, hands tight around the bars.
March was beside me, his thigh pressed against mine, and on my other side, Mimi had her eyes squeezed shut already.
Sweat beads lined her forehead, and I was no better.
“You’ve done this before?” Silas asked from where he was squeezed between Cook and Russ, his cane across their laps, his face as white as a sheet.
Master Talik made a sound that wasn’t exactly comforting. “Once or twice,” he muttered.
Once or twice was not nearly enough times to make me feel any safer.
That’s when I decided that this was a very, very bad idea, and that we were already doomed, and that there was a good chance we were all going to die long before we reached the Court of Hearts.
Master Talik sat on his side, an arm wrapped around two bars, the other comfortable over his knees, and Damon was at his back, sitting the same way. The young Timekeeper tried to pretend like he wasn’t afraid—but we could all see how yellow his skin was, how tightly he held onto the bars.
“I think—” I want to get off, I started to say because there had to be better ways to travel than this, but…
It was already too late.
“Here it comes!” Master Talik cut me off, and a tick later, we all felt it, too.
A low hum built fast somewhere behind us, deeper and louder and closer until the walls of the conduit began to glow that same amber light—except this was moving. It was actually racing toward us like a wave.
Time’s Teeth, it happened so fast. There was no time to think or prepare or even close my eyes and hold my breath. March’s hand was in mine, and I squeezed so hard it was probably painful.
The pulse hit.
My body slammed against the back of the runner. The speed was instant, a force so massive it ripped the air from my lungs and pressed my spine flat against the iron bars. The glow on the walls became a streak, a blur, a single continuous line of gold that screamed past us.
I held my breath and my heart held her beat and my mind held onto a single thought—I am going to die.
But I didn’t.
It felt like an eternity to me, but the pulse passed us in seconds, fifteen or maybe even less. The incredible speed dropped, and then we were coasting in darkness, gasping, shaking, tears streaming sideways off our faces.
Forty.
We had to go through that forty times.
There was no time to speak. I sometimes screamed like my body wasn’t my own, but there was no time for actual words or to give ourselves a moment to breathe properly.