I stood beside a cliff’s edge above the Pacific Ocean, preparing to jump.
Theoretical physicist Wanda Pepper stood between me and the edge. Her cropped, raven-black hair had a stray, orange-dyed curl in front that bounced when she moved toward me.
Wanda patted the electrodes on my chest. “You’re all set.”
I scratched the
“Quarantine means no going outside, old man,” the guard growled beneath his face mask. Well over six feet with a vice-like grip, he dragged me inside as his name tag bobbed in and out of my peripheral vision. Pickerman was clearly stamped in sparse utilitarian lettering.
“Just going for a walk, sonny,” I said…
November 9. The best and worst day of my life.
I paced my minuscule apartment, plagued by a frenetic excitement that made my fingers twitch and gut clench. Outside, a frigid, torrential downpour assaulted Portland, obscuring the cityscape.
Dad’s ringback music played in my ear. On the last note, he picked up.
“’Ello?” He sounded almost… groggy.
“Are you going to talk like that all day?” Jaqi flipped her hair and scowled at me.
“Aye,” I growled out the corner of my mouth as I attempted a ferocious smile. “How else should one celebrate Talk Like a Pirrrate Day? Arrrr.” I curled my finger into a hook and brandished it
I slipped my left foot into one high heel, hopping on the other while I swung out an arm to grab my purse, steadied myself, and wrenched open the door. Thirteen minutes to get to the subway, seven minutes to my stop, six minutes to get coffee, and four minutes to run to work. Perfect.
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As the sun hit the Louvre from a million different angles, I wiped a tear. Now was no time to let disappointment engulf me.
I can do this. I can go inside. Mamma flew all this way.
I plastered on a smile and took one agonizing step after another.
“Natalie!” Mamma’s Italian accent was familiar and warm.
“I’ve got a good feeling about you, Planet 77.”
My heart thundered with the anticipation of facing the water-hungry nightmare that had buried our planet. Our ship slowed as we breached the skies of Earth.
“Don’t forget the cloaking device.” Jones reached over my shoulder and flipped a toggle. “I’d rather not be deified this time.”
Scamander was a dorm for science majors, and I fit right in. It smelled like boys who got good enough grades that their mothers didn’t mind cleaning up after them in high school. Odors of mildew and sweat added a sickening aftertaste to every bite of Top Ramen I shoveled into my face hole.
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“Need a seatbelt, kid?” Gregory smirked.
Robin loosened his white-knuckled grip on the handrail. “I’m good.” He’d expected a wild ride, but time travel was like a thirty-story elevator drop into the past. The machine even dinged as it swooped to a stop. While Robin waited for his vertigo to pass…
Doctor Holloway! Can we please swim in your pool?” The boy looked about nine, and a couple of multicolored beach towels flapped over his shoulder as he came running toward Denise, who was about to pull a lawnmower’s cord. With him was a slightly younger girl, an inflatable swim ring encircling her waist
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April 27, 1986
The comforting notes of Babushka’s music box make my heart shatter.
What would she have thought, standing in her granddaughter’s shoes, watching the sky morph as radiation pours into the air? Even in the pain, I imagine she would’ve known what to do. How to help. How to make a difference.
“Oh no! Oh no! Nixie, what have I done?” Jope yanked his hands away from the control panel. Lights blinked along the dash, but he pressed fists to his eyes and leaned his weight against the harness. He couldn’t bear to look at the teleportation platform across the cabin. It was ominously, horribly silent.
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