BACKTRACKER by Milo Fowler (e book reader txt) 📕

"Someone left it for him at the precinct, I believe. Do yourecognize it?"

Irena thumbed through the pages with reverence. The scent of thepaper brought on a flood of memories. "Itwas mine."

Only it wasn't exactly as she remembered. Like the arrangement ofthe lobby downstairs and the mirrored elevator and the hallway outside—even thesparse decorations in Muldoon's office—nothing was the same as she remembered.

Someone had gone through the entire book and circled letters atrandom with a black pen. How could they? Didn't they know what this book wasworth? To me?

She turned it over to the cover with the picture of the CheshireCat and all those teeth, every other one shaded in pencil. She'd done that one nightwhile waiting for her father to come home late from the lab. She'd been angrywith him—the first of many times to come—that he'd forgotten their nightlyritual. The Reading. So she'd defaced the priceless book's cover. Itmade her giggle at the time, she remembered, to see the silly cat look evensillier.

She remembered like it was yesterday. "Thiswas mine," she whispered, and hugged it to her chest.

"Would you like to see the entire message?"

Irena broke from her reverie. "What?"

"The marked letters in the book create an instruction manualof sorts." Jeannie paused. "Would you like to read it?"

Irena didn't know what to say. She opened the book again, thistime to the first page. Chapter One: "Down the Rabbit-Hole." Thefirst four letters that were circled sequentially spelled TIME. The nexttwelve: DISPLACEMENT.

"Yes, Jeannie," she said quickly. "Show me."

Digital pages shuffled across the screen, and Irena swipedthrough them as her pulse accelerated. This was it. An owner's manual for theBackTracker.

It was all here: how to set the device for specific moments in thepast, how to return to moments prior to the point of origin; even the caveat:ORGANIC MATTER IS DISPLACED—ALONG WITH ANYTHING YOU TOUCH.

"Harry left, you said."

"I may have misspoken." Jeannie paused. "He didleave, but not through the office door."

Irena nodded. "He vanished?"

"Yes, Mrs. Muldoon."

He was prepared to do it again. One last time.

After years of living in seclusion, hiding from his past—multiplepasts, each as real and unreal as the next—battling the conflicting memoriesfrom realities that existed and yet never had seen the light of day. Now he wasgoing to use it once more. The BackTracker. He'd sworn never to touch the thingagain in his life. Leave that to his younger self, to keep the mistakes he'dmade from ever happening—to keep Irena alive. For ten years now, he'd kept a low profile,determined to wait things out, to see if Irenaever returned to the world.

Now she had. In some way, somehow, she was alive—from anotherreality or another world, he didn't care. She was alive!

He was moments away from seeing her again, face to face. He knewit, and it was real. This wasn't time travel psychosis. This was going tohappen.

If only the albino son-of-a-bitch would talk.

"Where is she?" Muldoon reached forward, gripping the SYN's throat. "Tell me!"

"Are you going to shoot him or strangle him?" YoungerHorton sneered. "Make up your damn mind already."

"Tell me." Muldoon seethed, staring into the white man'seyes.

The pale lips worked. He seemed to be making an effort to speak.

"What's wrong with him?" Muldoon glared at Horton.

"Well, he was torn up pretty bad by cannibals,for starters." Boney shoulders jerked upward and dropped. "I toldyou. It's too soon. We interrupted the rejuvenation process. Maybe the freakschomped into his vocal cords. From the looks of things, it's likely. You shouldhave waited it out, son. But if you want, I can seal him up again andrestart—"

"They've found Lennox." Elder Horton remained rooted atthe screens, focused on a different monitor now.

Younger Horton approached his side and watched.

There was very little left of Gavin Lennox inside thetattered shreds of his coat. Blood and bones, mangled flesh. But the monk withthe child over his shoulder knelt and began to rummage through the remains asif he were looking for something.

"Ewww," Younger Horton remarked. "That's just nasty."

Captain Armstrong would have agreed.

"Hey-uh..." He swallowed with some effort. "Whatare you doing there?"

The monk's free hand was covered with blood in the goggles' sight. "Hetook something from me."

The captain winced as the holy man sorted through shreds offaux-leather interlaced with sloppy entrails. "I'm sure you could findanother one, whatever it is."

"I do not believe so." The monk's fingers slipped acrossthe silver finish of a smeared cigarette lighter. "Here." He held itup in triumph.

"You a smoker?"

The holy man smiled and shook his head. He rose to his feet,holding the boy with a steady hand."I am afraid we must leave you now,Captain," he said. "Thank you for your assistance."

He tugged the goggles up onto his forehead and fumbled with thelighter's cap.

The flash of flame was a hundred times more brilliant, due to thenight-vision goggles. The captain reeled from it, cursing in alarm, eyesclamped shut. Blinded for the moment.

"Give a guy some warning, will you?" he muttered,blinking against the all-encompassing white spot in the center of his vision.

When his sight returned, fuzzy at first, gradually collectingitself and giving more definition to the subterranean environment, he faced the monk—

Who was no longer there.

"Well, doesn't he look surprised?" Elder Hortonremarked, zooming in on the captain's face in the monitor. "Betterhigh-tail it, copper! The freaks are coming!"

Younger Horton sniffed. "So now we know one thing forcertain."

"What's that?"

"The realities haven't twined up to our point in time."He shrugged and turned away, no longer interested. "That monk hadsomewhere to go when he crossed through the breach."

Elder Horton nodded to himself. On the screen, he watched thecaptain turn back toward the subway portal and, visibly shaken, leave theUnderground. There was a reason why his kind never ventured down here anymore: too muchbizarre fantasy for any sane person to deal with. Safe to say he would never doso again.

Horton turned his attention to Muldoon, who leaned forward nowwith his ear close to Cade's lips.

The albino was speaking. Only a hoarse whisper, but Muldoon couldhear it, and with some effort, he understood the words choked out:

"You're...alive." The SYNsounded relieved, strangely enough."She...saved you."

"He's talking