The Impossible Future: Complete set by Frank Kennedy (mini ebook reader .txt) 📕

his own shirt, his eyes never leaving Sammie’s. Michael stepped into his sneakers.

“What’s the plan? What are we going to tell folks, anyway? I don’t plan to talk about how I took a couple slugs, then Jamie gave me a back rub and all was right with the world. All that business about multiverses won’t fly, either. I mean, there’s dead people. Your brother, your mom and dad. Iggy Horne. A park ranger. Even if we get back to Albion before anybody sees us, the cops are going to come around asking questions.”

Jamie wrapped an arm around his best friend.

“Don’t worry, dude. You weren’t a part of this. Your parents are out of town, right?”

“Yessir.”

“Then we get you back home and you’ll be right there waiting for them like nothing happened. Sammie and me, we’ll deal with whatever comes our way.”

Sammie turned around and started toward the point, around which the boat was waiting. The pistol protruded from her pants, tucked between her belt and back.

“We have to go,” she said. “It’s not safe here. It’s ten to seven. The sun’s coming up.”

Jamie looked across the lake. He watched the oval, citrus sun creep above the tree line for the last time. Jamie choked up but knew he couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him. If he could safely see Michael home before the end, at least he might find some solace.

“C’mon, Coop. Back to the boat and figure out our next move.”

He started up the beach, but when he didn’t hear another one-liner from his best friend, Jamie looked over his shoulder.

“C’mon. Wonder Woman’s waiting.”

Michael turned his glare north along the shore, the same direction that fascinated Sammie. He raised his right hand and pointed.

“Ah, Jamie. Dude. Ain’t that …?”

Jamie needed a few seconds to see what caught Michael’s eye. The morning rays of the sun cast gold shimmers upon the shore and the trees. Out of that, however, came human movement. A man clambered over a log, perhaps fifty yards away. The man stumbled as he ran. He raised a hand and waved to the boys.

“Ben.”

The name fell off Jamie’s lips as dry and empty as only a boy who was no longer shocked by anything might say it.

 

34

A GATHA WAS ENERGIZED, even though the trauma of the explosion slowed her reflexes and left her pock-marked face in pain. From the back seat of a red Camaro with a police scanner, Agatha opened a cell phone, called Jonathan in the helicopter, and saw the time: 6:52 a.m.

Three hours did not seem like too short a window to find a single, elusive boy. The more she heard on the scanner, the more she sensed the universe was clearing a path to establishing her final legacy. Jonathan answered on the third ring.

“Your status?” She asked, turning on the speaker phone.

“Crossing the lake now. Target zone in sight. Should be overhead in less than a minute.”

“Jonathan, do not linger,” she said. “Law enforcement presence is growing, and we cannot ascertain their ground-to-air capabilities. They will recognize the stolen helicopter, and will not hesitate to resort to violence. One of their officers has been killed,. Two, if you count Ignatius. Instead, I want you to veer south.

“We just heard an officer say their suspects appeared to be on foot heading south along the shoreline. The officer believes these suspects are carrying high-powered weapons. They must be Chancellors. The police are expanding their search, which means we have limited time to make this work. Do you understand?”

“Approaching the shoreline now.”

“We will continue south on Highway 39. We are still several minutes north of the officers. Call me as soon as you make contact and provide your coordinates.”

“And if, by luck, I should find our targets out in the open?”

Agatha smiled. In the front seat, Christian stared back at her through the rearview mirror.

“You cared deeply for your brother, did you not?”

Jonathan hesitated. “Dexter was a good man. Walt had no right to take him that way.”

“I agree, Jonathan. If you see anyone born in the Collectorate,” she said, “kill him. Especially if he is tall and blond.”

Christian pressed his foot on the gas. “You got that one right, Mom. This is a whole hell of a lot more fun than taking final exams.”

Agatha wondered what administration might think when she didn’t show up to deliver her finals.

“I wish you were taking exams, Christian. If the pulse had arrived on Walter’s schedule, I would be driving to school. Come 7:30, that first class of juniors would be walking in, their knees shaking in anticipation of inevitable failure. Two hours later as they left the room hanging their heads in defeat, I would offer them best wishes for the future. Naturally, I would place a terrifying spin on the notion. Then I would record my final grades and disappear from this world.”

The car fell silent. Arthur looked up from the laptop.

“It still can be, Agatha. We may yet go home.”

Agatha sighed. She feared what might await them on the other side. Talk of civil war was growing before they crossed the fold.

She decided to give Jonathan Cobb the best chance possible at killing his targets. She needed to create a distraction, so Agatha hit speed-dial.

35

A T THE BASE of the bluffs along the west shore of Lake Vernon, shortly before 6:30 a.m., a man named Gooch McCracken was enjoying a bitter cup of black coffee and petting his bloodhound, Hobson, on the front steps of his trailer when he heard a familiar sound. Another careless driver failed to navigate the sharp bend in Fortnight Road a few hundred yards away and played life-and-death with the bluffs. Gooch heard the familiar, sickening reverberation of an automobile tumbling over the edge. This sort