Chapter 15 Chicago, 1928—Remy #4
“Unconscious, but there’s no illness or trauma.
” Remy took her blood pressure and listened to her heart.
“Both are in a moderate range, so there’s adequate blood flow to her brain.
” He lifted her eyelids to check the eye movement.
Her corneas were cloudy and hazy. There were no muscle contractions or involuntary responses.
He inserted a tongue depressor to assess the gag reflex, but there was no response.
“What do ye think?” Archibald asked.
“I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. We could take her home. I’m sure Charlotte would like to run a battery of tests.”
“Can’t you shock her?” Clay asked.
“Her heart’s already beating.” Remy removed the blood pressure cuff and returned the instruments to his bag. “Archibald, you mentioned she’s done this before, right? How long was she out?”
“It varied,” Archibald said. “Either a few hours or a day or two. Then she’d snap out of it and wake up hungry.”
Remy set the bag on a table and stood, his medical skills suddenly useless. He could stitch up an injury and treat a sickness, but in this situation, he had absolutely nothing to offer.
“When Violet checked out like this before, did you ask her what happened?” Clay asked.
Archibald sat on the side of the bed and held Violet’s hand. “She claimed not to know.”
“Were you arguing or pressing her for information?” Remy asked. “That’s what we were doing downstairs. She either couldn’t answer our questions or didn’t want to, so she checked out.”
Archibald nodded. “Whenever I asked about her family or home, she’d do what she’s doing now.”
Clay sat in one of the two deep, wraparound Art Deco-style armchairs, crossing his legs and resting one ankle on the opposite knee. “I don’t get it. She has a body like ours. She had children. But her brain doesn’t function like ours.”
“I wish I understood her,” Archibald said.
Remy joined Clay at the fireplace and sat in a matching chair. “Archibald, how far into the future have you gone?”
Archibald rose to his feet and paced, his fingers tightly interlaced behind his back.
A silent yet palpable wave of tension instantly permeated the room.
“When I first started traveling, I promised myself I’d never go to the future.
I didn’t want to risk inadvertently discovering when I would die.
” He stopped pacing and studied the ceiling before asking, “Have you met Ofello?”
“That stubborn computer? She refuses to answer more often than she does. Where’d she come from?” Clay asked.
“I don’t want to get too specific because I don’t think ye should know the future unless ye choose to go there.
In response to yer question, the first time I traveled, I went forward a hundred years.
It was strange but not unrecognizable. I was glad to know there hadn’t been a cataclysmic event that exterminated us as a species. ”
“What was it like?” Clay asked. “Did you meet anyone?”
“I saw dozens of men, women, and children of various ages and members of all ethnic and racial groups, but I didn’t interact with them.”
“What about vehicles and technology?”
“The technology that dominated then exists in crude form today.”
“So, where did Ofello come from?”
“I went forward another hundred years. What stood out the most was that people lived longer, healthier, and happier lives well into their hundreds. There had been no extraterrestrial intelligence exterminating humans or diseases ending human life. But the inhabitants knew more about the brain, how it worked, and how they could make it work better.”
“So that’s how Violet can shut down?” Clay asked.
“I don’t know,” Archibald said.
“Did you go again?”
“On the next trip, I went another hundred years. The world wasn’t as recognizable. They knew how to manufacture skin and could replace it. With advancements in nutrition, medicine, and technology, people live even longer.”
“James Cullen Fraser was skinned alive and miraculously healed, but we didn’t know how. Now we do,” Remy said.
“Aye.” Archibald’s brow furrowed. “Did Violet take him to the future?”
“Erik did.”
Archibald went pale, the color draining from his face as he absorbed that. “Ye’ve met him?”
“He spent several weeks at Mallory Plantation,” Clay said. “And while we all liked him, Elliott fully embraced him—because he saved JC’s life.”
Archibald exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I see.”
Clay leaned forward, unwilling to let the moment close. “Keep going,” he said. “You haven’t gotten to Ofello.”
“On my next trip, I found Ofello. I went inside a building and saw shelves with dozens of small snow globes. Instead of snow, the orb was full of light. The user placed it on a stand next to a large monitor and manipulated it with hand gestures and screen swipes. I didn’t fully understand how it worked, but when I had the chance, I stole a globe and disappeared. ”
“Didn’t they see you? Call the police? Anything?”
“They saw me but didn’t seem to care. I knew that would be my last trip. I didn’t want to know anything else.”
“If Violet is from the future, we must be like prehistoric people to her. What was their society like?” Clay asked.
“It was a matriarchy.”
Clay dropped his leg and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Why would she want us to believe she was from another planet?”
“Did she tell ye that?”
“Yep!”
“She could be. If there were aliens among the earthlings, I didn’t notice anyone unusual. But as for why she would do that, off the top of my head, I’d say she probably thought ye’d be afraid to follow her into the cosmos, but not into the future.”
“Did she know you’d been there?” Clay asked.
“I never told her, but she probably knew. I doubt I was the first traveler to venture into the future.”
“Why would she care if you went to the future, or we did?” Remy asked.
“If ye went to the future and a cataclysmic event had occurred,” Archibald said slowly, palms braced on his knees, “ye’d come home and want to do something about it. Save the world.” He lifted his eyes to Clay. “But ye could just as easily ruin Violet’s society.”
“But isn’t that why she’s probably here?” Clay asked. “To redirect the course of history?”
“Aye.” Archibald’s mouth tightened. “But she knows what needs changing. We don’t.”
“Why didn’t you leave a crate of memorabilia from your trips to the future?” Clay pressed.
“I didn’t want to leave any evidence I’d been there.”
“You left Ofello.”
Archibald stilled. “Aye. But if it was there the day I died, then I didn’t have time to destroy it.”
A faint sound in the hallway cut through the quiet. Remy lifted a finger to his lips. A second later, there was a soft rap on the door.
“Clay,” Marcelle whispered.
Remy crossed the room and opened the door. “Come on in.”
Marcelle slipped inside, glancing around before her eyes found Clay, then Archibald. “How is she?”
“There’s no change,” Remy said. “Violet’s heart rate and blood pressure are normal.” He tilted his head. “Where’s Skye?”
“In the library, helping Anita set the table for dinner. I told her Violet got sick, and you brought her up here.”
“Thanks.” Remy nodded once. “I’ll tell Skye Violet might be contagious, so everyone needs to stay away. I’ll monitor her recovery.”
Marcelle hesitated. “But you’re supposed to go with me to find Bastien.”
“Yes,” Remy said evenly, “but I can’t leave while Violet’s like this.”
“Then I’ll go,” Clay said, stepping forward. “I’ve seen pictures of Bastien, and I’ve done my share of investigations. Marcelle and I can find him.”
Marcelle’s eyes brightened, relief breaking through her worry. “Thanks, Clay.” She turned and hugged Remy. “As soon as we find him, we’ll go home.”
Remy held the hug a beat longer than usual. “If anything happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself,” he said quietly. “And neither will Bastien.”
She pulled back with a crooked smile. “You found me with Capone. That’s about as bad as it can get.”
Remy held her shoulders, his face close to hers, his gaze intense. “If you think that’s bad, talk to every woman in the MacKlenna Clan. Each of them had a brooch adventure and almost died at the hands of evil men.”
Marcelle’s brow furrowed. “You’ve made your point. I’ll be careful.”
“Just remember your promise, and we’ll all get home safely.”
She saluted. “Yes, sir. Now I need to tell Skye what’s happening with Violet. Take your time.” She took a last look at Clay and then closed the door with a quiet click.
“If Violet’s situation changes, come get me,” Remy said.
“Thanks for checking her out,” Archibald said.
Clay clapped Archibald on the shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Remy followed Clay into the hallway, bewildered. “I don’t understand what happened to Violet. It’s not like what happened in the cave on MacKlenna Farm,” Clay stated, his voice tight with tension.
“I know,” Remy agreed. “And now I’m even more convinced it was a master illusionist concocting the great escape.”