Firebreak, page 23
They all stared at her. She cringed just a little.
“See, uh, in Star Trek, Starfleet has a rule where, when you contact a primitive civilization…” She trailed off. Vail reached over and gently patted the back of her hand.
“And they call me a nerd,” Colin muttered.
“With that…” Kamaka said. He turned his hand and fanned out a set of weathered, antique cards with ornately illustrated backs. “Your keys, madame.”
He set the cards, six in all, down on the table before Amy’s delighted eyes. Three to travel, three to come home again.
***
Kamaka drilled Amy on the combinations they’d need. Opening a door back to her world — My birth world, she reminded herself, I don’t live there anymore — required the Six of Salt and the Two and Three of Fathoms. To get back to the Saunders Academy, to get back home, called for the Three of Staves, the Knight of Storms, and the Mistress of Salt.
“You lose these,” he warned her, “it’s game over. We’ll send a rescue team, but honestly, they’re just gonna drag you back here so they can push you straight through the Arch of Resignation for a mind-wipe. These cards are priceless. Treat ‘em that way.”
“I won’t let you down,” she said, solemn.
He quirked a cocky smile and slapped her arm. “Heck, kid, I know you won’t.”
Colin presented them with the Candle. The slim brass baton, engraved with mystic seals, would form a cross-world bond, letting him serve as their conductor from the relative safety of the Academy grounds. Vail took it, slipping it into the pocket of her denim jean jacket. Between what was left of their original clothes and a few emergency pieces scrounged from Adelaide’s archive, they looked like a pair of perfectly ordinary twenty-first century teenagers.
“All right,” the professor said, smacking his palms together as he took a step back, “nothing to it but to do it. Remember, you can use any door you want as a portal — if it opens and closes, it’ll do for the spell — but you’ll always arrive at one fixed point in space, as determined by the cards. For your return trip, it’ll spit you out on the basketball court, and we’ll be waiting for ya. For your departure…”
He wore an impish look in his eyes.
“Did I mention a little complication? A tiny, minor wrinkle?”
Amy fought the urge to sigh. “You did not.”
“Must have skipped my mind! Okay, this particular combo of cards will take you to Parallel Three in one particular room of one particular hotel. Any particulars past that, you’ll have to figure out for yourself. No clues — that’d ruin the fun. The fun for me, anyway.”
“What’s the complication?” Amy asked.
“The hotel is open, and the room in question is regularly rented out. Remember the no magic rule? Popping through a dimensional gateway in front of tourists counts, so…be quick and be clever.”
Amy turned and gazed into Vail’s eyes.
“We can handle that,” Amy said.
Chapter thirty-three
Professor Kamaka and Colin hustled off to the control booth, giving Amy and Vail a few minutes to collect themselves and prepare for launch.
“You ready for this?” Vail asked.
Amy thought about it. She riffled the cards in her hand. Three for the outbound trip; the other three, their keys back home, snug in her hip pocket.
“If I thought we were going anywhere near my old hometown, honestly, I’d be having some issues right now. Thankfully we aren’t.”
Vail scrunched up her brow. “How can you tell? He won’t even tell us what country we’re going to end up in.”
“But he did say that the entrance Door opens in a hotel,” Amy said. “Holybrook’s so small it doesn’t even have one — not that anyone would ever want to visit. Nearest hotel is three towns over.”
But Amy found herself thinking, anyway, about the places and people she’d left behind. To everyone back on her world, Amy Nettle had disappeared without a trace over a year and a half ago. She wondered if anyone had worried, how long they’d looked for her before giving up the hunt. She wondered if her father had even bothered.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Vail said, catching her sudden silence.
Amy shook it off and brandished the cards. “Just gotta focus up and get those meds. People are counting on us today. We’re not going to let them down.”
Sometimes it takes a trip back to where you started to realize just how far you’ve come.
Amy pressed the trio of cards to the classroom door. Behind the pebbled glass, as she whispered the spidery incantation, lights swirled and fell like shooting stars, leaving only darkness behind. The world beyond that door wasn’t theirs anymore. She turned the cold brass handle, carefully, pulling it open just an inch so that she could peek through.
Instead of a dusty hallway, the crack looked out onto a darkened hotel room. It was a boutique suite, with dusky wood paneling and a camel-tan carpet, the king-size bed appointed with an ornate cherry headboard. The bedsheets were rumpled, unmade, and an open suitcase sat on a folding stand beside the television set.
“Occupied,” Amy whispered over her shoulder, “but it looks like they’re out. Let’s go.”
They slipped through the door and shut it behind them. As Amy got her bearings, Vail turned and tested the door again. Now it was solid wood, and it opened onto a mundane hotel bathroom. They were on the other side, cut off, and they’d have to make their own way home.
Vail said something. Amy blinked. She didn’t understand a word of it. The words were hard-edged but rich and resonant, like German but not quite.
“I…what?”
Vail shook her head, pointing at her ear, looking as baffled as Amy felt.
“Oh!” Amy said. “Hold on, hold on, I’ve got this.”
She curled her fingers, twirling them in a mystic flourish as the chant of the Twenty-Fold Tongue burbled up from memory. She felt it expand, encompass them, a bubble of warm space and understanding. The spell was invisible, but she could see it in the corners of her eye, a gossamer envelope that rippled softly all around them.
“How’s that?”
“Wow,” Vail said, “your native language sounds weird.”
“Yours sounds German.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Never mind,” Amy said, leading the way to the door. “Let’s get out of here before the residents come back.”
Vail looked to the darkened window on the far side of the room. “It’s night here? Weird, it was barely noon back at school.”
“Yeah, time gets strange when you hop between worlds. They don’t all run on the same schedule.”
A crackle of static erupted inside of Amy’s mind. From the sudden twitch in Vail’s left eye, she felt it too. Then she heard Colin’s voice.
“Mission control to Falcon and Crow. I should be broadcasting through the Candle now, and I’ve got you on my screen. Come in, can you hear me?”
“‘Falcon and Crow’?” Vail said. “Did…did you give us code names?”
“It’s a spy mission. Spies get code names.”
Amy stepped out into the quiet hotel hallway, looking both ways. “Which one of us is the Falcon, and which one is the Crow?”
“Yeah, Colin,” Vail said, following her out. “Answer carefully.”
“Well, I mean—”
“Hey!”
Amy and Vail spun. A heavyset man with a thick mustache was storming down the hall, jabbing an accusing finger at them.
“What the hell are you doing in my room?”
“Run,” Vail said.
Amy didn’t need to be told twice. They sprinted in the opposite direction, full speed, until they hit the elevator bank. Amy hit the down button, but they could hear the man huffing towards them. No time. Vail grabbed her hand and yanked her toward the stairwell door.
They pounded down three flights of concrete steps bathed in stark florescent light and then raced across a skybridge walled in tinted glass, the panels bathed in shifting color. Another flight down and they burst, panting and breathless, into the belly of a parking garage. They ducked behind a dirty panel van and slumped to the ground, shoulder to shoulder.
“That…was close,” Amy gasped.
Vail patted her jacket pocket, feeling the reassuring weight of the Candle. “Colin? You still there? We had a little issue with one of the locals, but we’re clear. Where are we?”
“Little wrinkle there. Normally I’d have all that information for you — I mean, normally you’d get a full briefing before you even left — but considering this is Amy’s exam…”
“Aw, c’mon. You can help your best girls out a little, right?”
“Professor Kamaka is sitting right next to me,” he said.
“Oh.”
Amy caught her breath and pushed herself back up, craning her neck to peek over the hood of the van. The angry guest had either given up the chase or lost them. They were clear, for the moment.
“What can you tell us?” she asked.
“I’ve got access to the full conductor suite — which I’m still learning how to use, just so we’re clear on that — and a regional database. If you can get me a couple of cross-streets, I can look it up and—”
“Nope!” Kamaka chimed in, interrupting him. “Sorry, ladies. Your conductor can’t help until you figure out a few more clues. Tell me where you are, and then he can lend you a hand.”
Vail gave Amy a tired look. “He’s really enjoying this, isn’t he?”
“I really am,” he said in their ears, “and I can hear you.”
They walked. The garage opened onto a wide but quiet city street, lit up against the night sky. Light pollution drowned out the stars — no constellations to guide them. The buildings around them were built of old stone, two or three stories, and Amy could see a scattering of modern towers, but not many, rising up behind them.
Kamaka’s class had taught Amy a host of tricks for getting her bearings. The stars were one, but there were others. Clues for figuring out a strange situation.
Small city, she thought, noting the buildings and their heights. Old construction, no cultural markers that stand out. She turned her attention to the street. Apartments and condos up top, stores on the ground floor, half of them already closed for the night. No bars on the windows, no rolling shutters, so it’s a low-crime neighborhood. There weren’t many people on the street, but the ones Amy spotted were bundled up in fall jackets, their faces a smattering of ethnicities, no tell-tale clues there either.
She spotted a fast-food place across the street. Friskie Fries, read the sign over the awning.
“Okay,” she said, relieved. “The signs are in English, so at least we know we’re in an English-speaking country. That narrows it down by a lot.”
“English,” Vail said, as if tasting the word. “That’s the language you speak?”
“Yeah.”
“Ames…you used the translation spell. Everything is going to look like English to you. Just like it all looks Low Ghoni to me.”
Amy’s shoulders slumped. Rookie mistake. Stupid, she thought, and right in front of Professor Kamaka. I’m totally blowing this so far. She hissed a curse word under her breath.
“You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?” Kamaka’s voice crackled in her mind.
She had to salvage this, fast. Pushing her anxiety down deep into her gut — and her fear of talking to strangers along with it — she forced a cheerful smile and walked over to an old woman on the sidewalk.
“Excuse me, ma’am. I’m so sorry to bother you, but my friend and I fell asleep on the bus and I think we got off at the wrong stop. Can you tell me what town this is?”
“You’re in Providence,” she said.
Amy thanked her and kept walking with Vail at her side, her thoughts racing faster than their footsteps. Now it clicked.
“There’s more than one city named Providence,” she said, “but I think I know which one we’re in. Rhode Island. New England.”
“Is that better than Old England?”
“No idea, I’ve never been to either one.”
“So how do you know?” Vail asked.
Amy pointed at the tall building on the corner, decorative, scalloped stone lintels and strong crenelations limned by streetlamps.
“The architecture. Rhode Island was one of the original thirteen colonies, so it has some of the oldest buildings in America. The original designers were inspired by the English and Dutch styles they knew back home, plus a smattering of Neoclassical influence.”
Vail stared at her.
“What?” Amy said.
“I literally did not understand a word you just said.”
“Oh. Right. You’re not from here. Hey, you’re kind of like an alien invader.”
Vail lightly punched her arm as they walked. “You’re an alien. Dork. Hey, professor, Amy figured out your riddle, can we get a little help now or what?”
***
Colin sat in a rolling swivel chair at the controls of the conductor’s station, the console glowing like a music studio’s mixing board. Amid the knobs, levers, and gages, a dark screen depicted Amy and Vail as dots of molten gold, the pedestrians and cars around them as hazy amber blobs. Colin had one spiral-bound manual open in his lap, another on the lip of the console, and he was flicking pages as fast as his fingers could move as he hunted for the right page of instructions.
Professor Kamaka sat beside him, kicking back with a bucket of popcorn.
“G’head,” the professor said, chewing, “you got the helm.”
“Okay, hold on, hold on—”
Colin scooted his chair a couple of feet over to an old lime-green monitor hooked up to a vintage keyboard. The keys clacked and rattled under his fingers. After a brief grinding noise, a city map etched itself on the screen, one slow monochrome line at a time.
“I’m pulling up a map, but I have to cross-reference your location,” Colin said. “Find a street corner and get me some names so I can find you.”
While they waited, Kamaka offered him the bucket. “Popcorn?”
“No, thanks, I’m way too nervous to— Actually, yes please.”
Colin popped a handful into his mouth, curling his lips at the unexpectedly bone-dry taste.
“Plain?” he mumbled.
Kamaka flexed one arm, his muscles bulging like steel cords.
“You don’t build biceps with butter, little man.”
Amy’s voice, projected across worlds, filled the soundproofed booth.
“We’re at the intersection of Washington and Mathewson,” she said.
“Got you. Doctor Abernathy’s going to meet you at his house, which is…” He paused as he saw the address, and he turned to Professor Kamaka. “Eight miles away? They can’t walk that, it’ll take them all night. By the time they get the prescriptions the pharmacy’s going to be closed.”
“Sounds like a problem for a skilled conductor to solve,” the professor said.
This is simple, Colin told himself. Just have to move two people from point A to point B to point C. Nobody’s coming after them, no guns, no violence — this is basic as basic gets. As long as I don’t lock up like last time, I can get them home safe. Breathe.
“Okay,” he said, “I’ve got you. A cab or a rideshare would be fastest. Amy, you don’t have your old cell phone, do you?”
“No, the professor said it would be cheating—”
“I did,” Kamaka agreed, clearly pleased with himself.
“—and besides, I stopped paying the bill when I came to the Academy, so I wouldn’t be able to use it anyway.”
“Right, okay.” Colin flipped through loose pages, schedules, one hand on the spiral binder while the other pecked out commands on the monochrome terminal. “Help me out with some local knowledge. Can you use that credit card to buy a bus ticket?”
“If there’s still someone on duty at the ticket window, probably.”
There. Colin broke out into a manic grin as the pieces came together.
“I want you and Vail to walk four blocks northeast, following Washington Street. That’ll take you to Kennedy Plaza. It’s a bus terminal with a statue out front. You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Which way is northeast?”
Colin swiveled in his chair, nearly dropping his binder, and squinted at the blurry digital map. “That fry place you mentioned earlier. You see it from where you’re standing?”
“Sure,” she said.
“Walk past with it on your right-hand side. That’ll take you northeast. Stay on that street, and by the time you and Vail get to the station, I’ll know exactly which bus you need to take. We’ll have you at the doc’s house in no time.”
Chapter thirty-four
Door-to-door service wasn’t an option. After the bus dropped them off, wheezing as it trundled off into the night, Amy and Vail still had to walk through half a mile of quiet suburban streets to reach Dr. Abernathy’s place. Insects trilled under the distant rumble of traffic, and wrought-iron streetlamps shone down upon the wide, pale concrete.
“Hate to say it,” Vail sighed as they walked together, “but I’m feeling thankful for all that running he made us do now.”
“Yeah you are,” Kamaka’s voice echoed in their minds.
Vail looked sidelong at her companion. “You’ve been quiet.”
“It’s funny,” Amy said. “I was worried it’d be…overwhelming, being back here. Like I’d feel so much and I wouldn’t know what to do with it all.”
“And?” Vail asked.
Her hand found Vail’s, fingers twining, skin to skin.
“This world isn’t my home anymore,” Amy said. “I still don’t want anything to happen to it, and I’ll fight to protect it if I have to…but it’s like an old house where you used to live a long time ago. You might drive past it and have a lot of memories, good or bad, but you don’t feel any urge to walk inside. Because it’s not yours anymore.”
Vail thought that over and nodded.
“Looks like it’s worth fighting for.”
“Does your world look anything like this?”
