BACKTRACKER by Milo Fowler (e book reader txt) 📕

Herborrowed jumpsuit had served its purpose and outlived it; now she needed tofind something else. One of the shops in the plaza would have what she needed,something nondescript that wouldn't draw attention. She'd find a restroom andchange, clean herself up a bit, avoid any other chance encounters with theinhabitants of this time.

She had to keep from altering the future even in the slightest byher presence here. Now.

A series of concrete steps took her from the rails up to theplatform, then past the glowing, pulsating ticket kiosks to the expansive mainfloor of the three-tiered plaza. Moving no faster than the bodies bustling all around her, shepassed the large, straight-backed benches facing the kiosks and navigated hercourse toward the stairs along the far wall. They would take her to the secondtier where shops and restaurants attracted commuters before and after theirmonotonous journeys.

She climbed, the boots biting into her ankles and rubbing at her raw flesh. She kept her eyes to herself for themost part, but she made a point of glancing down at the benches every now andthen for any sign of Harry or Cade. There were too many commuters passingthrough right now. Impossible to spot anyone in particular.

What would Harry be wearing? Would she even recognize him? Whatwas he like this long ago—when she herself had been merely a girl in her teens?Her heart stirred, her breath catching at the thought of seeing him again. Ithad been so long, too long, without him.

"Excuse me." A tall, well-built man in a tailored suitbrushed past her, heading down the stairs. He seemed to be in a hurry, but notill-tempered.

She recognized him instantly. Not Harry or Cade, as she'd hoped. Instead, itwas the last person she would have expected to see again: Gavin Lennox, owner of The Pit. The same man she and Cade hadmet in that alleyway, where those two mandroids had suffered the full weight ofher protector's blade. She raised a hand to her face, scratching idly at herbrow, covering her features.

Not that it matters, she realized. This istwenty years ago. He wouldn't recognize me.

He looked nothing at all like the Gavin Lennox from her when.The owner of The Pit wore his hair unkempt, not trim and close-cut; instead ofa trench coat and chain mail, this younger Lennox wore a dark tailored suit.

So much has changed. This is another world.

No ghouls, no subterranean freaks, no squads of Blackshirts on patrol. How did ithappen? What caused such a drastic change in her world?

She glanced up as she reached the second tier. Commuters passed atrandom intervals dressed in coats and hats, carrying briefcases and purses,smiling and laughing in pairs or chatting mid-stride via the plugs behind theirears. They all seemed so happy. Many of them were synthetics, whichcould explain it; but there were plenty of humans as well, and they looked justas content with their lives. Purposeful. Fulfilled.

Shopping bags with various logos adorned many of the hands shepassed, bringing Irena back to the moment. One in particular caught her eye—Femme.She remembered the shop from her youth, when languages other than Common werespoken. French, in particular, had been a popular one, associated with romanceand fashion. Behind the glass storefront, she would find something moresuitable than a jumpsuit or her own attire from the future.

Rows of items hung suspended from the ceiling, all in blacks,whites, and greys, affordable for the affluent shopper who never bothered withchecking price tags. She almost stopped. How was she going to pay for anything?

If they scan my ident tag, won't I come up asbeing only fourteen years old? Without any credit.

She forged onward through the masses regardless, turning with thetide and against it at unexpected intervals, until she came to the entrance of Femmeand crossed the threshold. There were three other patrons inside, humansrepresenting different generations, strangers to one another yet united in thesame disdainful look they turned on Irena as she entered. A maintenance worker? In Femme?

"May I help you?" The synthetic clerk was far morehospitable, greeting Irena with a warm smile and bright eyes that held no prejudiceof any kind.

"Yes." Irena snatched the first item within reach—a sleeveless blackdress—and held it up in front of her jumpsuit. "How much for thisone?"

"Let's check." The SYN passed her palm scanner acrossthe length of the dress in a single swipe. "Five hundredninety-nine credits—on sale!" Another smile. "Shall I put it on yourstaff account?"

Irena was at a loss.

The clerk winked, lowering her voice as she leaned in. "We doit all the time. No big deal, really. They expect you to go to the Solsticeparty, but you can't very well show up in that uniform, now can you?" Hereyes danced as a giggle emanated from her perfect lips.

Irena looked down at the jumpsuit. "Right."

"And you're just going to adore the accessories!"The clerk disappeared behind the island counter in the middle of the shop,bending down to retrieve four items: a pair of long white gloves, a smallhandbag, a wide-brimmed hat with a veil, and a pair of matching pumps. Shepresented them with a flourish. "All included!"

Irena smiled faintly. "Charge it."

Moments later, she emerged from Femme with a shopping bagof her own, passing what looked like a purveyor of antique weapons—knives, swords,and the like. The electrified gate was closed,and there was no one inside. It seemed too early to close up shop, but shedidn't give it another thought. Instead she directed her steps to the restroomat the far end of the promenade.

Once there, she made sure the stalls inside were empty beforebolting the door and falling back against it, closing her eyes and exhaling.Her muscles melted with fatigue. She'd managed to avoid anyconfrontations that would alter the course of the future—as far as she couldtell. So far, so good.

But the most difficult part of her journey remained. She still hadto find Harry and convince him not to accept the device from the Peddler—hisfuture self, according to her father. And if that didn't work, she would haveto find some way to keep Cade from carrying out his mission: ending Harry'slife before he ever had a chance to