Sherry Ficklin - Extracted

I have to think about it for a second. “About five years. Why?”

She looks away again. “You’re older. The last time I saw you, you were only thirteen.”

Ah. “How old are you now?” I ask. She doesn’t look much older, physically, than when I last saw her; she sure doesn’t look twenty-two.

“I just turned seventeen. I’ve only been with Tesla for about a year.”

That pulls me up short. “How is that possible? We were taken at the same time.”

She shrugs. “We’re time travelers. Nothing happens to us in the order it should. From the moment we were taken, we were traveling different paths. Nothing is linear for us.”

“This time bubble that Stewart Stills created for Hollows to exist in probably didn’t help matters, either.”

“That’s amazing. And only he can do it?”

I shrug. “Or only he knows how to do it. So far, he’s the only one who’s been able to pull it off. Nuts, right?”

“That’s one word for it. If you’re in a time bubble, how did I get in?”

That makes me pause. It’s a good question. “It must be getting weaker. I’ll mention it to Stills and see what he thinks.”

She follows me up the stairs and onto the roof. It’s almost sunset and the sky is on fire with reds and oranges. A gust of wind blows her hair into her face. I laugh as she struggles to control it.

“That’s why Mother always put your hair in ribbons.” I smile at the memory.

“I hated those. They pulled.”

I remember. She would sit and whine and squirm, and the second we were out of Mother’s sight, she’d tug them out and hide them under the furniture. Absently my hand goes to my pocket. I clutch the bottle caps between my fingers.

“So,” she begins as I walk over to the metal tower. “Stein. She was your friend?”

I bristle and grab the first rung, pulling myself up. “Yes.”

Ember follows behind, climbing upward until we’re nearly at the top. “More than a friend?” she asks again.

“Yes.”

She puckers her mouth.

I sigh, wishing Stein was here now.

“What was she like?” Ember asks, sitting next to me, our legs dangling off the edge of the roof.

I lean back on my elbows. “She is amazing. She’s smart and strong. She never lets me get away with anything.”

Ember chuckles. “I like her already.”

“When she moves, it’s like water, you know? And sometimes, when it’s just us, she looks at me like I’m the most important thing in the world.” I pause and glance over. Ember is staring at me intently. I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

But she isn’t about to let it drop. “You love her.”

I just nod.

As the sun dips out of sight, a slight reflection of light gleams in the distance. I point to it. “See that?”

She nods.

“That’s the bubble. Sometimes, when the light hits it just right, you can see it.”

“It’s sort of beautiful,” she offers.

I watch it until it vanishes.

We talk until the sun vanishes over the mountains, and then we have to climb back down in the dim light near the front door. She tells me about her life in Tesla, which doesn’t seem as terrible as I’d imagined, and I tell her about my more glorious missions. Then I tell her about the day Stein died.

I am just finishing my tale as we reach the door to Stein’s room. Ember can stay here for now. No one will bother her, and it will make me feel better knowing that that bed isn’t empty, even if its rightful owner is still gone.

“I’m going to get her back. I have the Dox. We can pick up the new batch of Contra tomorrow.”

She grabs me by the arm.

“Lex, if you can’t get the Dox to work, you are risking everything for this girl. You could tear time apart.”

I look at her flatly. “I know.”

She glares at me, as if to be sure I’m not going to change my mind before she answers. “Fine. Then I’m going with you.”

I pull my arm free. “No. I won’t risk you. I’ll go alone. It’s safer that way.”

She folds her arms over her chest and shoots me her unimpressed look. It’s eerily similar to the one Mother used to give me when I’d bring home boxes of frogs from the gardens.

“Safer for whom, exactly?” She was flowing, speaking in perfect Russian again. “If you’re stupid enough to risk the whole of existence in order to rescue this girl, then I’m stupid enough to go with you.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Fine.”

But Stein’s voice echoes in my head, ripping the smile off my face as her words come back to haunt me.

It’s your funeral.

EMBER

Sleeping in a stranger’s room is like wearing someone else’s clothes. It feels awkward and uncomfortable, even more so considering whose room it is. Stein. Lex’s girlfriend. Correction—Lex’s dead girlfriend. I stare down, and somewhere in the back of my mind I’m honestly wondering if my brother has ever been in this bed. Gagging, I tear the pillow off the bed and toss it onto the only clean spot on the floor. Under the pillow, a strip of film flutters. I pick it up. Lex and the girl with the top hat from the World’s Fair are smiling and making faces in the four tiny squares.

I can’t believe it. She’s the same girl who almost killed me. Does that mean he was there too? I can’t help but wonder how many times we’d been that close, missing each other by minute tricks of fate. I toss the photos aside.

The room itself looks like a tornado has blown through, depositing scraps of clothing on every possible surface. I have to physically restrain myself from tidying up. When I kick a lone boot under the bed, it hits something with a clunk. Curiosity gets the better of me. I get down on my hands and knees, tugging the metal box free.

My fingers hover hesitantly over the latch on the metal box. There’s no lock, just the remnants of a hinge. I know I shouldn’t open it. It’s obviously private, but I can’t help myself. Setting my jaw, I open it slowly to find my brother’s face staring up at me. I lift the fragile scrap of paper where a rough sketch of Lex smirks in hard, lead lines. There’s another beneath it. This time it’s just his eyes, but it’s undeniably him.

I wonder if she drew them. They are really good, I admit reluctantly, biting my lip. I don’t want to like her, this girl who has worked her magic on my little brother. I really want to hate her. If not for her, we could have been long gone from here by now.

I toss the pictures aside and dig through the box. Pieces of fabric, drab costume jewelry. Feathers. A set of brass knuckles. I spread the items out around me, trying to use them to somehow piece together a mental picture of her, to see someone other than the girl who served me a major league beat-down at the World’s Fair.

I don’t like what I see.

I put the items back and then kick the box underneath the bed. I should try to sleep, but the call of curiosity is too strong, so I walk over to the closet. There are maybe three pairs of black leather pants, a couple black satin corsets, and one long black trench coat hanging from a rope strung wall to wall. I’m about to mumble something nasty when I spy a scrap of pink poking out from the very back. I grab it and pull. The dress in my hand can only be described as “Bubblegum-Barbie-Goes-to-Prom.” The laugh that escapes my throat is bordering on hysterical, I realize, and I slap my hand over my mouth.

It’s too much. I don’t want to be here. Somewhere down the hall a train whistle blows and I jump, throwing the dress back in the closet and slamming the door. Curling up in a little ball on the floor, I pull the Tether off my arm and twist my hair under me. My heart is racing.

After tossing and turning for what feels like hours, I crawl out of my makeshift bed and open the door. A random, dark-haired girl in goggles is sitting cross-legged across the hall from my door.