BACKTRACKER by Milo Fowler (e book reader txt) 📕

beyond would take them five or sixblocks to the closest portal. He kept to the shadows, heeding what the SYN hadwarned regarding a curfew. Blackshirts seemed to be keepers of the peace inthis world, and he did not relish the idea of another encounter with one oftheir shock prods.

Even so, he did not escape the notice of a certain Federal policeofficer sitting in his cruiser. The headlights flashed on, blinding in theirintensity, almost as if they had been waiting there for Kuan to appear.

"Halt," came an amplified voice from the vehicle."You are in violation of civil code 38116. Curfew remains in effect. Stayright where you are."

Kuan held up a hand to shield his eyes.

"Please—we need to see a doctor. This boy is in need ofimmediate attention." Could the Blackshirt hear him? Would he care?

The driver's door drifted upward, and a large man stepped out,favoring his right leg as he limped forward, past the glaring headlights. Hisbrawny silhouette stopped a few paces in front of the squad car.

Kuan squinted into the light but could see nothing of theofficer's features. "Please," he said. "We need a doctor."

"Where are you headed?" The man's voice soundedfamiliar. "Medical offices are closed until morning."

The truth? To find the body of Gavin Lennox. To take from his remains the cigarette lighter that broughtus here in the first place. To return to our own world, where NewCity citizensare allowed to walk the streets at night and medical offices remain open foremergencies!

But Kuan said none of this. It would have sounded as insane as itwas. "We were looking for—"

"Lennox?" The officer turned, and the light shone acrossthe beard on his heavy jaw. It was the Blackshirt captain, the same man Kuan hadtaken down in the penthouse earlier with a strike to the leg. Armstrong was hisname. "The bastard's dead. Haven't you heard?"

Kuan nodded, unsure how to proceed.

"C'mon." The captain turned back to the car. "I'lltake you wherever you need to go."

I am not sure that would be possible. But Kuanfollowed warily, nonetheless. Once past the grill and headlights, he blinkedhis eyes as they adjusted to the dark. The cruiser sat empty. The captain wasalone.

"Where are your men?" Kuan laid Harry on the backseatand slid in beside him as the door rotated shut.

"Sent them home." The captain dropped behind thesteering grips and waited for his door to close.

"Yet you remained here."

The captain glanced up at him in the rearview mirror. He pressedhis thumb against the ignition pad, and the engine purred to life. He shook hishead. "It's been one godawful night. Can't sleep until I dosomething to make it better. Balance the scales a bit." He paused."Glad you made it out of there. Was hoping I could lend you two ahand."

"Where will you take us?"

He shrugged thick shoulders and accelerated away from the curb,whipping the steering grips to the side for a quick maneuver that brought thecar around, facing the opposite direction. Then he floored the accelerator, andthe car raced through the night, transforming the buildings on either side intoblurs of grey.

"I'm a little curious to see what happened to Lennox. What doyou say?" He glanced into the rearview again.

Kuan thanked the Master for their good fortune. "That wouldbe of mutual interest."

"Is the kid stable?"

"For now."

The captain kept his eyes fixed on the vacant street ahead."So what's wrong with him?"

Kuan swept a lock of black hair from Harry's pale forehead."He does not belong here."

"Kidnapped."

Kuan felt his abdomen tighten. We took him from HaroldMuldoon's apartment, my brother and I—but that was in our NewCity, in ourworld. How would this man know of such a thing?

The captain let the silence run on before breaking it. "Ichecked the citizen database, ran the kid's DNAthrough the Link. Got a match." He coughed. "From forty-two years ago."

Kuan frowned. "What?"

"According to a report filed at the time, this kid wassnatched right out of his damn crib from his own house. Happenedforty-two years ago, to the day. But he doesn't look much older than eleven,does he?" He cursed under his breath, shaking his head and squeezing thesteering grips. "His name's Harold Muldoon."

Kuan's lips parted. How can this be? "Itmust be a mistake." Perhaps in this world, this reality, such was the case. But not in ours. The child's mother came to us for help, andtheir surname was Horton—

"Ever hear of Cyrus Horton?"

"Yes."

"Before the government shut him down, he was working on somecrazy stuff over at Alpha Geminorum. Time travel and what-not, if you canbelieve. But that was acouple decades ago." He paused. "Word onthe street was Horton went Underground."He glanced into the rearview again. "Did Lennox go there to meethim?"

Kuan could not be sure. He strained to remember the conversationhe heard in the penthouse. His attention had been divided at the time betweenso much gunfire and blood. It was difficult for him to recall much with any real clarity. Underground. Secret lab.

"I believe so."

The captain nodded, his suspicions confirmed. "And howexactly do you fit into the picture?"

"I do not understand."

"Well, we've got a mad scientist, a power-hungry nightclubowner, and an eleven-year-old timetraveler. I know there'sgot to be some kind of crazy-ass science fiction involved here. I'm just curious how a monk of the Way fits in."

"I am not sure that I do."

"Just as clueless as me, huh?" He chuckled to himself."Either this is all one hell of a bad dream, or there's somethingseriously rotten in Denmark."

Kuan frowned at the obscure reference, uncertain of its meaning.

"How do you do it? Live without the Link?" Armstrong said.

Kuan blinked at this sudden course change in their conversation.

"All you Way-followers go unplugged, right?"

Kuan nodded, recalling the meeting he'd had with Gavin Lennoxat The Pearl. How it had ended. I wantedhim to use his wealth, his influence, for the good of NewCity's humanpopulation, turned into zombies by the Link. Had Kuan's zeal waned in the face of this new reality? The things he hadseen in the past few hours... In many ways, his concern for the zombies of hisown world seemed like a distant memory. Would he ever resume his crusade tobring