Sherry Ficklin - Extracted

“I mean, after a while, Rifters’ abilities fade. You won’t always be able to access the time stream. Like Mortimer. Even Catherine is losing her abilities. As you get older, they will burn out. When that happens, your connection to the time stream will be severed and all the things it took from you—all the memories—they will come back.”

I have no idea what to say, so I just stare at him, trying to tell if he’s being serious. The sad look on his face tells me he is.

“But that means, I mean, weren’t you and Catherine trained together?” I ask. “Why can you still rift?”

He exchanges a stern look with Doc before he answers. “Yes. We were trained together. But we aren’t all equal. Like you. You are strong, so you’ll all be able to rift longer than any of us. It’s why Tesla chose your team. He chooses only the strongest. You’ll probably be rifting years after your team can’t anymore.”

“The ones who burn out slower,” I counter, a strange bitterness swelling inside me.

“Yes. And as for me, my time is coming. I can feel it, winding down. My own memories have been returning for a while now. It won’t be long for me.”

I reach out, putting my hand on top of his. He looks so young. “How long have you been rifting?” I ask, suddenly curious how much time I have.

“I’ve been rifting so long I can’t even count the years anymore.”

My eyes must be bugging out of my head, because he chuckles. “Oh, yes. I’m old, Ember. So much older than I look. Tesla thinks it’s the traveling. Being in the time stream slows the aging process down. When you stop traveling, the aging speeds back up to normal.”

I pull my hand back and clutch the sides of my head. It’s so impossible to think straight. “The others should know,” I whisper, thinking of Ethan and Kara. Here we are, so close to committing ourselves to Tesla. “They should know what they are signing on for. All of it.”

“Tesla won’t allow that. He wants the Rifters to have absolute faith in him. If they knew, it might color their reasoning for accepting or declining.”

“Then I’ll tell them,” I say without thinking about the challenge I’m laying down.

Doc puts a hand on my shoulder. “No, Ember. One way or another, you won’t. Tesla won’t allow it.”

I look back to Flynn, who glares at Doc before turning back to me.

“Ember, I only told you so that you’d realize the memories aren’t gone for good. They haven’t been erased. One day, when you are older and more able to handle them, you’ll remember on your own. But right now, they are dangerous. Please. If this kind of blackout were to happen during a rift, we could lose you forever.” He pleads with his green eyes, “And you are too important for that. I need you to trust me. I swear I’ll never let anything bad happen to you. I’ll be here the whole time.”

I nod, not trusting my voice to stay steady. I do trust him. Flynn saved my life—brought me here. Besides Ethan and Kara, he’s the one person in the world I trust most. Doc slips the goggles onto my head. I can’t see anything but a bright-green glow, though I hear Nurse’s clockwork chest give off a puff of steam. I shudder. Flynn slips off the gurney, and I lie back, still clutching his hand.

I wake up in my bed. A dense fog hovers over the corners of my mind, making everything fuzzy at first. I sit up, still fully dressed. There is a folded piece of paper, with my name written on it, on my desk. I stand up, wait until I’m steady on my feet, and pick up the note.

Ember ,

Report to the rift chamber as soon as you are awake and have had something to eat .

-Flynn

My stomach growls. No need to tell me twice. Feeling like I’ve slept for the first time in weeks, I head to the cafeteria.

The small dining area has a counter with a selection of food choices and a cooler of milk and juice. I grab a tray of chicken and vegetables and take it to an empty table, where I proceed to devour the food. But every bite is like throwing a penny in a well. The way my stomach twists is more nerves than real hunger, but it feels the same. I could eat every tray in the room and still want more. I drink half my milk in one long gulp and return it to the metal tray with a thud that echoes through the empty room. Suddenly, it feels less like a cafeteria and more like a crypt. The rattle from the air vent is like an ominous breath blowing across my skin. I shake my head.

Ugh. What is wrong with me today? First, I freak out in class, and now I’m jumping at shadows. All because of some stupid nightmares. As I think about them, my mind reaches back for the memories but finds nothing. What happened? My stomach churns again. There is something I wanted to remember. Something important. But it’s gone.

With a grunt, I rise and kick the chair back with one foot. I grab my tray and set it in the dirty dish window. I turn for the door, but before I can take a step the room gets hot. I reach over my head and wave my hand over the vent. It’s thumping, but no air is coming out. I tug at the collar of my grey shirt. It’s gotten really hot—like, sauna hot. Sweat beads along my hairline and little drops of perspiration roll down the back of my neck.

“What the—?” I walk over to the computer interface. It blinks to life when I touch the flat screen. “Interface, what’s wrong with the temperature controls in the cafeteria?”

The voice of Tesla responds with a thick, metallic echo, “All systems functional.”

“Interface, run a diagnostic on the environmental control systems.”

“All systems functional.”

“Then, why is it so hot in here?” I walk over to the door and press the metal plate.

A voice from behind me makes me turn on my heel. “Ember,” the voice says.

There, in the middle of the empty cafeteria stands…well, me.

I feel my mouth drop open the way you only see in cartoons. She—no, I am wearing a black leather corset over a golden tunic and striped pants. Her hair is twisted up in the back with loose strands dangling around her face. But the biggest difference between us is the long, fresh scar on her chin. I don’t have a scar there. Not yet, anyway. Before I can compose myself enough to say anything, she takes a step toward me, her hands held out as if to calm me.

“You need to take the first key with you.”

My brain freezes. “What?”

I take an involuntary step back, knowing that we shouldn’t touch. That would be very bad. Catastrophic. Before I can compose myself enough to ask a more rational question like, “Why the heck are we breaking the most basic and universal law of rifting?” she steps backward and vanishes.

I blink. She—no—I have just risked destroying time to give myself that message—it must be something urgent. Life or death.

I back up until the door behind me slides open with a whoosh.

Once I’m in the hallway, I can feel the cool breeze of the air conditioning system circulating through the air. I let go of a breath I’ve been holding. The sudden release of tension nearly brings me to my knees.

Should I tell someone? I dismiss the idea. No need to get myself in trouble for something I haven’t even done yet.

“Hey, Ember!” Kara calls, coming down the hall with Ethan beside her. “There you are. We’ve been looking all over for you. Are you okay? Flynn said you had a panic attack or something.”

I hesitate. A panic attack? Is that what that was? It’s hazy, but I remember it. Sort of.

“Um, yeah. I’m fine. Nerves,” I say weakly.

I look back at the cafeteria door, just to verify that she—me—is really gone. Then I turn, smiling at Kara to cover my shock. “I was just getting something to eat before the test.”