Prologue
Walter watched as the children, along with James and Justin, slinked away from the furnace room. The door closed behind them, leaving only the green light from the furnace and the blue glow from the Arc below the stairwell. A heavy sigh escaped him; he knew they might not even make it out of the school. But he had done his due diligence. Turning his attention to the scepter in his grasp, he gently rotated the staff, searching for any clues to its energy source. There was nothing—just a solid stick crowned with a luminous orb. The light was unlike anything he had ever seen—not incandescent, not LED, perhaps plasma. It was like a miniature sun, condensed into an inoffensive ball. It only burned if his skin came perilously close. It was a remarkable invention.
He sighed again. He had played it smart with the children, so they would think he knew more than he did. In truth, he had no idea where the scepter came from, who Reinvark was, or much of anything—he only knew enough to be scared.
He walked down the black stairwell to view Reinvark’s body. For good measure, Walter pulled out the pistol from his waist and shot him a second time. A bolt of electricity slammed into Reinvark and rippled through his body. Never had he been more thankful to have nabbed this weapon. Now came the moment of decision—would he leave the degenerate here, or steal him away?
He had half a mind to drop him off in front of city hall with the scepter for all to see. This would assuredly irritate Them, and maybe even spell Their doom. But he knew better. He had no right to make such a decision when so much was at stake—there was no limit to what They were willing to do. It was easier to ditch him, but he knew there was a chance Reinvark would regain consciousness and wreak havoc on the town.
He could just wait for Them to arrive, but there was also a slight chance that They didn’t know he was here, permitting him a chance to escape without repercussions. If so, it was imperative he depart quickly, before the Omega Weapon could be retrieved by Them. The Professor fingered the metal disk in his pocket fretfully and gazed up at the ceiling corners. It was barren and there seemed no place for a camera to be installed.
When he had worked here long ago, there were no surveillance cameras in the room, which perhaps meant They had not seen Lily relinquish the Omega Weapon. The Arc had a similar, but more intense, effect on electronics to that of a large magnet, but perhaps They had managed to embed cameras in the walls since then. Regardless, They certainly had access to the school’s CCTV network.
He sighed. He was under no delusions about how difficult it would be for an older man such as himself to carry Reinvark for any distance. It might become impossible. The decision was made for him—he would leave the comatose man here. But how about the scepter? He couldn’t very well stuff it in his car, it would burn right through it. Surely there was a way to turn it off? He once again examined the staff. An idea struck him, and he lifted and thumped the bottom of the staff against the floor. The orb immediately vaporized, revealing a hole with circuitry underneath. He decided he would stow it in his car—should he leave it with Reinvark, he might cause wanton destruction upon waking.
He turned to leave but halted. He looked back at the Arc, standing serenely in the middle of the room, the faint, blue light bouncing off the black walls. He shook his head in amazement but would not dwell on his situation. Clutching the scepter, he ran up the stairs, through the furnace room, up the stairwell, through the halls, and gingerly opened the double doors leading out the north exit, half-expecting to be ambushed. Only the gentle breeze of the morning wind and the rustling of the forest in front of him greeted him. There was not a person in sight, though the end of the block of houses stood to his left.
He dashed across the small parking lot to the residential block, where his red sedan was parked. He anxiously glanced at the windows of the middle-class homes. It appeared no one was watching him. He breathed a sigh of relief and opened the rear doors, where he laid the scepter across the seat. He opened the driver’s door when he heard footsteps across the pavement. He whipped around just in time to see Reinvark leaping after him.
“PROFESSOR!” he wailed, then pounced.
The electric bolt pulsated through Reinvark’s pale body, and he slammed to the ground mid-air. The pistol quivered in Walter’s hands as he advanced to the unconscious figure. He looked around fretfully. Did anyone hear the shout? The thud of him hitting the pavement? He quickly dragged Reinvark to the car, concealing the figure in its shadow.
Now what? He was afraid to look up at the windows now, they might see his face. There was no point in leaving Reinvark behind; potential onlookers could already see his car and license plate. The choice was clear—he would kidnap Reinvark. If he left his body sprawled on the pavement, it would be harder for Them to contain the story. He shall help them out. Otherwise, collateral murder might ensue.
Walter, his head down, opened the trunk, then hoisted Reinvark by his shoulder with a groan. Despite his lanky appearance, the strange man was quite heavy. Walter threw him into the trunk and closed it shut, wasting no time in starting up the car and driving off. He turned left to give a wide view of the front of the school. All quiet. Hopefully, the children had already arrived at the police station, and James and Justin had buggered off.
There were two ways back home, but the way west required him to travel through town. Fortunately, the highway north was just one turn out of the school road and then emptied into the forest. Eager to escape prying eyes, he turned left, heading out past the city limits and into the trees. There were no cars about, for which he was grateful.
The highway twisted and turned, going at a steep angle, with the ground on his right growing lower in elevation to become a slope. He thought he heard metal tearing in the back, but he saw nothing in his mirrors. Walter’s eyes faced forward, and he was about to press the button to turn the radio on but sensed movement to his left.
CRASH.
For the briefest moment, Walter made out the heavy, grayish truck that had ambushed him from someone’s driveway, before his car was catapulted from the highway and violently rolled down the steep ditch on the other side. The momentum dissipated, and the sedan landed upright. The force of the impact and the airbags left the Professor briefly unconscious. Four figures with rifles sprang from the woods around the carnage and began firing at the trunk. This brought Walter to life, and he yelped as he staggered out the driver’s seat, believing the bullets to be targeting him. The bullets ceased.
He lay on the grass, watching their black boots converge on the trunk. One of them popped it open and nodded to his friends, then turned his attention to a new target.
“Professor,” he called. “Stand up, would you?”
Walter, still breathing heavily, brought himself to his feet. The figures were completely clad in black armor, from head to feet. A black helm covered their skull and face. Their eyes were wide like a bug, and there seemed to be no point where their helm ended, and body armor began. They each bore what appeared to be assault rifles. One of the men set down his rifle, reached behind his neck and tinkered and tugged at it, before pulling the helm from the neck armor to reveal a face with an olive complexion and black, curly hair. He looked at Walter coldly, his helm cradled in his arms.
“How did you think this was going to end?”
Walter gestured around.
“Like this.”
“Not so dumb, then.”
The back half of the car was crushed. If the truck had collided a second earlier, he would have been pancaked. Instead, the trunk bore the brunt of the impact. Walter moved along the chassis to the trunk, expecting to find Reinvark’s corpse. Instead, there was a gaping hole that looked like it was clawed through.
“Wha—?” he said.
“He clawed his way out,” explained the man. “The rest of our team will catch him.”
“Then why did you—”
“Better safe.”
Walter noticed the trunk was bereft of bullet holes. He moved to the other side of the car, expecting to find at least some bullet damage. Nothing.
“What?” said the man with a glimmer of mischief. “Something the matter?”
“Didn’t you shoot?” he said, sincerely confounded.
“Are you deaf?”
“But . . . never mind. Why didn’t you kill me?”
“We’ve got some things to hash out, first.”
The three other masked men stared at Walter blankly, their wide eyes unnerving him.
“Which is?” asked Walter.
“How did you know to find the Object?”
“I worked at the school. Christ, aren’t you the same people who employed me a decade ago?”
“That is not what we mean,” he replied. “And you watch your tongue. You knew about the incursions over the last two weeks. How?”
“There’s a phone I have, that I receive—”
“We know about the phone. We want to know about the transmitter.”
Walter breathed. “How do you know about the phone?”
“It’s in our custody as we speak. Now, answer.”
“There’s a miniature device at the base of the Arc that sends signals to the phone whenever an incursion is made.”
“The Object fries electronics.”
“Nothing a little science can’t take care of.”
“We got him,” came a voice from the helm in the man’s hands. There were celebratory whoops on the radio. The man smiled and pressed a button on his wrist.
“Nice work, all.”
“You can thank Head of Logistics.”
The man relinquished the button.
“You caught Reinvark?” said Walter.
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
The man clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t asking the questions.”
“You’ve ransacked my house,” said Walter pointedly.
“Incorrect. We’ve left everything the way it looked before.”
“Of course. But then you have my journal. I think any question you have is answered in there.”
“But you didn’t write everything,” replied the man. “Why did you decide to come here when you learned of the incursions?”
“Concern,” said Walter. “I was in disbelief that the time machine was still in the school and wanted to make sure schoolboys and schoolgirls hadn’t stumbled upon it.”
“How droll. Now, hand it over.”
“Sorry?”
“Don’t play stupid.”
Walter sighed and dug the metal disk from his pocket and handed it over to him. He stuffed it in a pouch beneath his utility belt.
“Now unlock the car.”
Walter obediently went back to the driver’s seat and pressed the unlock button. One of the other men promptly retrieved the scepter from the back seat, though the truck’s impact had thrust the bottom of the staff through the chassis.
Walter looked between the men anxiously. “What about the kids?”
The man stared back stonily. After a period of time without a response, Walter pressed.
“I warned them about you. I told them to keep quiet, or you would hurt them and their families. I didn’t mince words, I couldn’t have made it more—”
“We heard everything,” said the man.
“Then you’ll know they took it seriously and will do everything they can to make sure their little adventure stays with them.”
“Five children, seven individuals. How can you be so sure?”
“They know you’ll hurt their families.”
“They don’t know that. All they know was an old man sprung on them from nowhere warning them that someone out there is willing to kill them. They’re taking your word. If you were them, would you take it seriously?”
“But they know a time machine raises the stakes by a million.”
“The janitor didn’t. He treated the Object like a toy.”
Walter’s heart pounded as the horrible outcome became clear.
“The threats to their families are more than enough to keep them quiet,” he said quietly.
“You can’t think of any situation where they might let something slip, even if they took you seriously? Perhaps they have a few too drinks at a bar. Perhaps some decades have passed, and they believe the threat has subsided enough to tell their children. Perhaps one of them drops too many subtle hints that they had an adventure in the past. Maybe, they will wait on their deathbed. Are you so certain that none of the seven is susceptible to this?”
“They did nothing wrong! You people are the ones who left a time machine in a middle school.”
The man’s cold expression remained unchanged. Walter cooled his temper.
“How could they have known?” he said. “This wasn’t a choice they made, not really.”
“So?” said the man. “We didn’t choose the world we live in.”
“They’re only kids,” whimpered Walter.
“Would you prefer we wait until they’re grownups? When they have kids of their own, and there’s more people to mourn? Is that, in your mind, more righteous?”
“Neither are righteous.”
The man scoffed.
“But you let the children walk,” said Walter. “They’re at the police station, right now. If they get through that, then that’s the hardest part. Just give them a chance.”
“Your little stunt saved them for now, it’s true,” said the man. “But I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. They will live their lives as normally as they can, but one by one, perhaps while they’re sleeping, perhaps from a terrible car wreck, perhaps some degenerative disease, they will appear in the local obituary. It will seem so natural; they won’t even know what’s happening.”
“You sociopaths.”
“Save it. We’re not going to kill you for now, you have probably figured out your value. However, you should learn to live in fear. You might want to reach out, warn the children a second time, help them in some way. You make any sort of attempt, try to establish any form of contact with them, we’ll kill your entire family.”
“My—my family—” stuttered Walter. “We’re not on . . . the best of . . .”
“Oh, please. Did you think that little charade of yours would fool us? Carry on as before, not a word of this, or anything before this, to anyone. Otherwise . . . you know the drill.”
Walter’s eyes watered, knowing the children’s fate was sealed, and there was nothing he could do about it. He gazed at the men dejectedly.
“I believe we have nothing more to discuss,” said the man.
The Professor gestured about. “How am I supposed to get back?”
“You’ll find a way. I’m afraid that car no longer belongs to you.”
He fastened his helm back over his head and grabbed his rifle. The men made to turn around, when Walter said desperately,
“Why?” They halted briefly. “Why would you leave a time machine there? I just don’t understand it.”
The men made no response and started their trek along the ditch, soon disappearing amongst the trees.
