Backshift-Replay by Judy Colella (books for students to read .TXT) 📕

Any ideas? I thought at Shadow – Niam looked like he was about to explode, and was probably too “freaked out,” to use a term I’d learned was common to this time and place, to hear anything, much less come up with a solution.

Maybe…I’m going to try something – play along.

I saw Niam nod, and guessed Shadow had relayed the same thought to him. At least the Irishman was listening.

Shadow took a step toward the closest rifle-pointer, hands up, palms outward.

“Don’t move!” shouted someone at the back of the firing line.

“Dude! I just wanted to thank you! Chill!”

Shadow had studied the material well, I realized. I forced a smile and stepped up next to him. “Hey, it’s okay. We don’t have any weapons, and we haven’t done anything wrong.”

“What are you doing here, then? This is a private building, it’s the middle of the night, and you’re here for some reason – robbery, maybe?” This from someone else, a man who had approached from behind a rifleman on our left. The speaker’s arms were crossed and he was glowering.

“That’s just it,” said Shadow. “We have no idea what we’re doing here, or even where we are. We woke up on the floor near the windows about five, ten minutes ago, and after we found the lights, we realized we were locked in.”

“You seriously expect me to believe that crap?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” I tilted my head to one side, going for “confused.”

“Because it doesn’t make sense. Are you saying someone knocked out the three of you, dragged you into a closed and locked building without being detected by the security cameras, hauled you up to the third floor, unlocked a secure room, dumped you all by the windows, and then left, locking up again and getting out, undetected yet again?”

I nodded. “Pretty much. Yeah.”

The man used a crass term of utter disbelief. “We have people checking the security feed as we speak, and since I’m about positive we’ll see you breaking in, you have one more chance to tell me what really happened before I arrest you.”

I almost smiled. That security feed, the continuous loop of live footage, would show nothing. No one coming into the building, no one going out. All they might get is some strange video of three humans appearing out of nowhere in the large room we were in, and us changing into our time-and-age-appropriate clothing. At worst we’d look like exhibitionists, since in our time, we no longer have a problem with nudity. I expected whoever was watching this “feed” would get a pleasant eyeful, but nothing incriminating.

“I already told you,” Shadow was saying. “Look, we’re really sorry, but it looks like we’re the victims here. Someone played a nasty practical joke on us, and we’re probably going to get in all kinds of trouble because of it.”

Sounds reasonable so far, Shadow, but what happens when we have to give them names, or worse – tell them where we live and who our parents are? After all, we’re minors now. I chewed on my bottom lip, giving him a sidelong glance.

We have the manufactured family and their names – what are you talking about?

“…and entering is a felony! How old are you?” The man I assumed was the officer in charge nodded at me.

“Sixteen. And before you ask, my name is Tosca Blane.”

“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Great, a minor. You sure don’t look sixteen – how tall are you?”

“Six-one.”

“You play basketball?”

Understanding the correlation but finding it irrelevant in our situation, I told him no, I didn’t play any kind of sports.

He shook his head and looked up at Shadow. “What about you?”

“Six-five. Shadow Calaban. No basketball, but I do like to watch football. And I’m seventeen.”

“And who would you be?” Niam, whose sudden entrance into the discussion was like the unexpected intrusion of a ghost, gave the officer a look of open belligerence.

“Officer Warren Gentry. You?” The words word polite, the twisted smile following them anything but.

“Niam Collins. Sixteen. Need my height and weight, too?”

Dial it back, Niam. We don’t want to anger this guy. I had to wonder why he was being so obnoxious – still unhappy about his outfit? How lame.

Officer Gentry was giving Niam’s six-foot-two, lanky form a slow up-and-down, his look sour. “You’re in no position to give me grief, kid.”

I stifled an urge to giggle. We were all more than twice this man’s age – or our memories were. Still…

The doors were still open behind the line of officers – who hadn’t lowered their weapons this entire time – and we saw a man in a dark coat enter, carrying an object I recognized from the historical records as a file folder, an object in which a small number of papers could be kept in order. Paper. Huh. So rare in our time.

“We got the results from their security cameras,” he said, holding the folder up and approaching Gentry at a slow trot.

“And?” Taking the file from the man, Gentry opened it, peering at whatever was on the top sheet.

“As you can see, sir, nothing. No one entered the building after it was closed for the night, and no one left. And the camera in this room doesn’t cover all of it, especially over there – “ He pointed toward the windows. “So I don’t know what could have happened. There’s no evidence of anyone coming in here, and the room seems to have been empty almost the entire time. Well, until a few seconds before the silent alarm was tripped. These three walked into view of the camera, and according to our guy, they were looking around like they were surprised to be here. And then they changed their clothes. Don’t get that.”

Gentry’s eyes narrowed as he nodded. “Convenient. They said they were near the damn windows when they supposably woke up.”

“Supposedly,” I corrected him without thinking.

His head jerked up and his jaw tightened. “Wise ass. What’s this about you changing your clothes?”

“We were wearing these crazy overalls that weren’t ours,” I said, referring to the generic outfit all Shifters wore when making the journey. In this case, it was the perfect foil for our predicament.

One of the men with a rifle cleared his throat. “Sir?”

“What is it?”

“May we stand down, sir?”

Gentry swept us with another of his angry glares, thrust out his jaw, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Fine. They aren’t armed. Better check, though.” He waved the man forward.

Lowering his rifle, the soldier approached me first. “Raise your arms at your sides, please.”

I obeyed, waited as he ran his hands down my body and checked my pockets. I couldn’t understand why – the jeans were so tight, I doubt I could have hidden a microchip in them without its outline showing.

“Unless she’s hiding something in her bra, sir, she’s clean.” He moved on to Shadow and repeated the search process, then checked Niam. “All of them clean, sir.” He stepped back.

“Okay. Looks like I might have to let you go, since I have no evidence of wrongdoing – except your presence. Your explanation seems highly implausible, but I can’t prove it didn’t happen that way. I just can’t figure out how anyone got you in here without being seen.”

“The last thing I remember, Officer, is waiting at the bus stop after school.” Shadow made a scowly face, as if he was trying to remember the incident that never happened.

“We were all there since we live in the same neighborhood,” I added, as much to give myself something to do that would keep me from laughing as to help Shadow’s story.

“I’ll bet the bastards brought us up here while the building was still open!” This from Niam, surprising me. It made sense (not surprising) and was spoken with conviction (which was).

“You think you know who did this?”

“Not sure. Don’t want to say because I could be wrong, and I don’t need to be getting innocent kids in trouble.”

Well played, Niam! You, too, Tosca. We may be able to get out of this easier than I’d thought.

Thanks, Shadow. You, too. Let’s not get over-confident, though. Nothing in Niam’s expression showed that this conversation was occurring.

Gentry was speaking again. “Just great. Jeez. All rght, look. I want you three to get the hell out of this building, and don’t ever let me find you here again. If I do, I don’t care what explanation you come up with – I’m arresting your asses, and that’s it. Now go home. You live far from here?”

“Not very.” I tried to look relieved.

“We should probably drive you.”

“That’s okay, Officer.” Shadow put an arm around my shoulders. “We’re pretty good at taking care of ourselves, and I promise we won’t go anywhere else.”

“Not my business if you do, unless you decide to rob a store or something.” The man was grumbling now, as if he was disappointed that he couldn’t throw us in jail.

After being escorted down the hall, into an elevator, through the downstairs lobby, and out through a set of gigantic glass doors, we stood on the sidewalk and stared around.

We’re supposed to go east, I reminded my companions. I glanced at my watch, which had a compass feature that displayed as a low-light hologram when I thought the word “compass” at it. “This way,” I said aloud, and turned right.

When we had gone several blocks, Niam began to chuckle. “Well, now, that was exciting.”

“I’ve heard of worse happening on Shifts.” I covered a yawn with one hand.

“As have I,” said Shadow. “In any event, we have to find the house they set up for us. And if I’m not mistaken, it’s another two blocks away in that neighborhood.” He pointed to his left.

Thanks to the pinkish glow of tall streetlights, we could see the entrance to a housing area (I think the word they used then was “subdivision”), as well as several large homes lining the street visible beyond the brick-wall-flanked gates. In fancy metallic script, the word “Wanderleigh” had been attached to the bricks.

We crossed the street, approached the wrought-iron gates, and found them locked.

“Hold on.” I took out my dataslip, a transparent, flexible rectangle that fit in my palm, and thought, gate code. Numbers flashed green on the surface of the ‘slip. “Got it.” I went to a device protruding from a stanchion on the side of the road into the subdivision, and pressed in the numbers on its pad. The gates swung open.

We had decided before leaving our own time that we would use verbal communication most of the time, since the people here, if they caught on that we were talking to each other in what they termed “telepathy,” would probably get upset. To this end, Shadow continued the conversation out loud. “I believe it’s on the next…block? Well, we need to go past these houses and cross that road up there.”

“How do we get in?” asked Niam, staring around. “I doubt they have palm-pads.”

“There will be a metal object called a key under something in front of the door – the mat,” I told him.

“Here it is!” Shadow had stopped in front of a huge home, its color an uncertain blue in the dark, the trim white. It appeared to have two floors, large windows that ran in a long