Adam's Journey (The Aliomenti Saga - Book 8) Read online

  Adam closed the trunk and walked back through the walls, breathing deeply of the fresh air, and made his way back to his sleeping quarters. The Mechanic was correct about the need for sleep to make it through the next day’s events. And though the man had joked about it, Adam did in fact have a sleeping potion near his bed to ensure he slept a deep, dreamless sleep.

  They’d all worry about tomorrow.

  But the others didn’t know about the extra journey Adam had to make. Without detection. Without assistance.

  And they didn’t know that if he failed to do so… then all of their effort to retrieve Will from the past wouldn’t matter.

  They’d all cease to exist.

  ~~~2~~~

  2030 A.D.

  Stark Residence

  He could sense the heat as the fire raged through the house above, the sensation sufficient to trigger his body’s sweat glands. The noise upstairs–the crackling flames, the slowly collapsing walls–hid the sounds of Will’s cries of physical pain and emotional agony, the mental anguish and the physical scarring leaving him a broken man in every possible way. Adam checked the outer frame of the time machine, sliding his hands over the exterior, his eyes flicking toward the battery gauges. Angel’s violet eyes were wide, focused on the ever-growing pile of drywall, concrete, rock, and earth, commanding her nano swarm through the ground toward her father. The excavation dust littered her bright red hair, the grayish tint ironically giving visual hints as to her true age. He could feel the vibrations in his feet as Fil made two trips to the first floor, returning with a bag of collected supplies and one unconscious, red-eyed killer. Adam, who’d reflexively retrieved and mounted the firebomb, watched surreptitiously as Fil shoved the Assassin into the vehicle, observing with quiet relief the lack of recognition of the slightly more cramped quarters.

  His conscious thoughts weren’t on the controlled chaos around him. So much so that Angel had to remind him to retrieve Will while she focused on keeping the tunnel from collapsing as he slid through, into the basement and the backseat of the time machine. Instead, he let his mind complete a task he’d been working on for years. He needed to get the time machine to himself, for just a moment, and somewhat far away from any population center, away from where anyone who knew might feel the energy pulse as points in time folded together along the fourth dimension. He’d hoped that might happen before now, but circumstances specifically, the Mechanic literally sleeping in the machine the night before prevented it. Now, though, he’d use that energy pulse as his excuse, noting that while Fil and Angel handled their first conversations with Will, while the Mechanic ensured they had new specialty nanos and continued work on the nano-based version of the machine… he would, for safety purposes, fly the machine a few miles away, remove the time travel circuitry, and destroy it. While there’d be protests, Will’s old memories made clear that he, Adam, would play a major role in Will’s upcoming training and his potential death could be catastrophic to future history. He’d simply note that they had no way of knowing if destroying the device in camp had injured or killed any of the other residents in the camp.

  Will’s memories said Adam would be fine. And thus, he’d argue, he, as the one with nothing to do for a few days, nothing to do until Will’s healing and Purge and recovery were completed, no new time machine to build of new materials… he was the right man for the job.

  Suddenly, they’d made their speeches to invisible people in the basement, and they were back in the time machine in their assigned places. Fil stroked Smokey’s bloodied fur. Angel administered her various “medicines” to a battered, barely conscious Will in the back. Adam felt relief. He launched the timer on the firebomb and then activated the time machine, confident for the first time that when he arrived at the other end of this time travel “hop,” he’d not just be finished with this particular journey… but well-positioned for the next.

  2219 A.D.

  Eden

  Adam stared at his surroundings, baffled. Once convinced he and the others were in no imminent danger—rare and impossible though that might be—he opened the time machine top, stood up, and looked around. He didn’t see the Mechanic, or the chaotic confines of the man’s private laboratory.

  This was no lab. This was a tropical paradise, a place of profound physical beauty, of fresh, sweetly scented air, the soothing sound of ocean waves crashing nearby, the melodic tunes of birds mingling into some impromptu chorus. This wasn’t Alliance Camp. This was a place he’d never seen before.

  His pulse quickened. No, he’d never seen this place before. But he wondered if it might be a place he’d heard about. Will and Hope had found a mysterious island, one that seemed capable of hiding its presence from the overwhelming majority of people in the world, a space of breathtaking beauty they’d dubbed Eden.

  But he’d heard of this place from someone else, too. Someone who knew of it outside the context of the world of the Aliomenti and the Alliance, who’d known of the place long before Will stumbled across it so many centuries earlier, whose most profound and private wish was to one day return to that land.

  He didn’t worry much about the small bits of Energy that might have leaked out—there was no getting around that, not now—and floated upward using his nanos, getting a better view of the terrain. They’d landed in a clearing just south of the northern end of an island. To their north, trees gave way to rocky hills and a rocky beach covered in what looked like coarse gravel. To the south, the stream trickling just south of the machine, widened into a modest river that meandered through the colorful landscape before emptying into the ocean.

  He swallowed hard. There was no denying it now, not with a terrain that matched exactly all the descriptions he’d heard and been told about. This was Eden.

  He was on Eden.

  He calmed himself before he floated back to rejoin Angel and Fil, an impossible thought tucked away in an inaccessible corner of his mind.

  This was his chance, a chance to launch his private journey without worry of detection.

  He just needed to find the opportune moment.

  #####

  The trio spent several minutes discussing their next steps. Adam was in no hurry to leave. Fil argued that they should fix the spatial coordinates for their target and depart immediately. Angel noted that with a time machine, they couldn’t arrive “late” to their destination, and thus recommended that they take the time to explore this apparently uninhabited tropical paradise.

  After Angel made it clear that she’d remain behind with their unconscious human cargo, Adam suggested he and Fil split up. He took the northern route, toward the less-hospitable terrain, never looking back to see if Fil had left for the southern part of the island. The spongy grass turf of their landing spot gave way to dirt, which soon morphed into a gravelly trail foreshadowing the jagged, rocky hills he’d need to climb. He nimbly navigated the hill to the summit, enjoying the scent and taste of the sweet, fresh island air, and then climbed down a more established path to the beach. The gravelly “sand” had, centuries earlier, been much larger chunks of rock, worn down to the smaller, pebble-sized beach covering of today. In another thousand years, it might look no different than the sand on the rest of the beach.

  But he couldn’t wait around that long.

  He had to confirm beyond any doubt that he’d found Eden. The physical characteristics certainly matched the descriptions he’d heard.

  But there was one clue, one bizarre clue that would banish that tiny hint of doubt from his mind.

  And it would prove that the stories he’d heard about this place so long ago were true, confirming the events documented in detail in the journal now hiding in the back of the time machine.

  He ignored the deep sense of trepidation and moved toward the largest of the caves. Those stories were anything but happy, detailing a dark time in the distant past. But it would prove where he was; prove that he needed to do what he believed he needed to do. He reached the mouth of the cave and crept slowly
inside, sending forth luminous orbs of Energy to light the interior until it was as bright as midday. He heard the sounds that told him that the more nocturnal residents living here, shocked by the bright light, had scurried to the shadows and the darkness they preferred.

  He heard but did not notice.

  He only noticed the scene before him.

  Long, rough-hewn wooden tables and matching benches. Simple goblets and platters sitting atop those tables.

  And skeletons—dozens of full skeletons—slumped over the tables. As if they’d all died simultaneously in the midst of a celebration, or while joined together for a community meal.

  The chill crept down his back and he felt his breathing stop, and it had nothing to do with the small, beady eyes watching him from the shadows.

  It was true. All the stories he’d heard, all the details he’d tracked down and documented… all of it was true.

  Adam swallowed.

  He turned and headed back for the mouth of the cave, letting the orbs of Energy wisp away and allow the return of the darkness.

  He’d nearly gotten back outside when he froze, his mind reeling at the faint lines he thought he’d seen on the walls near the cave’s mouth. Had he imagined them?

  He took two steps back and moved to the side of the entryway, lighting up the smooth wall of the cave, staring.

  They weren’t just lines. They were numbers. Lots of numbers etched into the wall. Numbers that looked like dates. And coordinates.

  And atop the list of numbers was a single word: START.

  He scanned the dates and gasped. He recognized all but the first two, for they were key dates he’d plotted out over the past two centuries, dates he knew as well as his own name, dates documented in that critical journal hiding in the time machine’s trunk.

  The second to last number made a modest bit of sense, but it was the first date and time that lurched him into a panic.

  He recognized that he’d left this timeline for himself over the course of his journey, a journey that would take him to the distant past. There were many time “hops” there because he couldn’t make it back all at once; they’d only built this machine to get them to 2030 and then back to 2219. He’d identified the times for each of those hops, locations he thought to be safe for the sudden appearance of a time machine, but he’d never expected to use Eden as a location.

  He pulled out his communicator and snapped a picture of the writing on the wall before setting off at a run. He might have a time machine, but he had no time to waste.

  According to the first time and date listed in that “hop” list he’d left for himself… he’d be leaving the island alone to start his journey in less than thirty minutes.

  ~~~3~~~

  2219 A.D.

  Eden

  Spurred by the looming departure deadline, Adam climbed the rocky path meandering up the hills forming the cave structures, nimbly maintaining his balance as several loose stones shifted beneath his fast-moving feet. Once on more stable terrain, he sprinted south, plotting the extra steps he’d need to take before leaving here in just a few minutes, grateful to know that he’d find the time machine unoccupied by conscious occupants when he reached the clearing.

  Except… it wasn’t unoccupied.

  He paused on the edge of the clearing, allowing his slightly elevated respiratory rate to slow, staring. Angel remained in the back of the time machine, her father’s head still resting on her lap. She’d left him only long enough to wet a rag—likely formed of nanos—and was wiping the blood from his face and hair. A thin line of glistening tears moistened her cheek. Angel’s empathic skills were the strongest he’d ever encountered, strong enough that she had an innate sense of someone’s existence even with Energy shielded. But though she’d always sensed her ancient father’s presence in the world, sometimes nearer than she might expect, she’d never seen him face-to-face. This meant her first direct encounter with her father was now, and though it wasn’t ideal, she’d take advantage of his lack of consciousness to savor his presence as long and openly as she could.

  Angel glanced up, turned toward the edge of the clearing, and offered Adam a faint smile. She sniffled and wiped away some of her tears. “I finally get to meet him, and I know I’ll lose him again in a few months.”

  Adam returned the smile, then shook his head as he moved toward the time machine. “I don’t think you’ll lose him in a couple of months. I think he’ll actually be back for good.”

  “You do?” She glanced down at her father’s battered face before nodding. “You think he’ll emerge from hiding when there’s only one of him again. That makes sense.” She nodded in the direction he’d traveled. “Find anything interesting?”

  “I can confidently say that this island doesn’t lack for rocks.”

  She laughed. “I wonder what Fil’s discovering?”

  “Judging by the layout of the island I saw from my elevated perch when we arrived, I’d say he hasn’t encountered rocks. Lots of grass and trees, assuming he headed in the opposite direction I did.” He inclined his head toward Will. “Want me to take over for a bit so you can explore? I do recommend directions other than north if you prefer to avoid rocks and gravel.”

  She shook her head, chuckling. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine. If you want to look around a bit more until Fil gets back, though, feel free. We can wait for you if needed.” She tapped the side of the time machine. “I guarantee we’ll get back to camp at precisely the correct time, no matter what.”

  He offered a chuckle, masking the rising panic inside. Shouldn’t she leave? How would he have time to prepare if he was the one to leave the clearing? But he controlled himself as only one who’s lived for centuries can, nodded, and simply said, “Okay.”

  In the spirit of pretending to explore other parts of the island, Adam sauntered off to the east, into the trees, and disappeared from her sight, sighing deeply. He pulled out his communicator and glanced at the time. Only fifteen minutes until he was supposed to leave. He peered through a narrow opening in the trees. Angel hadn’t left. Should he teleport her away? Should he go back and insist that she take some time to look around, perhaps suggesting a feeling of guilt that she alone would have no chance to explore this tropical paradise?

  Neither option made sense. He’d win the battle but lose the war, especially in the first case, where he’d need to explain why he’d done something so blatantly against their code of ethics. And he knew Angel well enough—known her since before her birth—to realize she’d not leave Will until something a lot more pressing than his professed guilt about her missing an opportunity presented itself. He’d have to trust that she’d leave willingly while Fil remained away, giving him the few moments he’d need to disappear into the past, alone.

  A familiar odor caught him off guard as the breeze shifted directions. But that scent shouldn’t exist here. Should it?

  He trotted off toward the sweet aroma, away from the clearing, and found the ambrosia tree in a small clearing. He momentarily pondered availing himself of the opportunity to savor the rapturously delicious food before his journey, but opted against it, suspecting he’d manage to stain his bodysuit and have Fil and Angel both wanting to see the tree themselves. Instead, he tallied it up as another clue that Will and Hope had lived here, and perhaps still did. Who else would plant an ambrosia tree on an otherwise deserted island?

  He turned and noticed a small, flat stone elevated slightly above the ground. The indentations in its surface weren’t the usual imperfections in a rock—he’d just climbed over enough to know better. Were those scratched letters, perhaps additional clues from his future-past self? He bent down and brushed aside a few scattered leaves and took in the cryptic message.

  WS #2 1994 HS#1 2040

  The numbers were years he knew all too well, and those clues allowed him to piece together the meaning of the remaining characters. In 1994, the man he knew as Will Stark had “died” before his eyes, fatally stabbed by the Hunters
on a trip to Aliomenti Headquarters Island, a trip “old” Will had used to smuggle prison-breaking nanos into a scar he’d sliced into Athos’ face. Old Will had teleported away from the murder scene, though, and they’d never found the man’s body. Though he now knew old Will hadn’t died—Angel’s deep empathic senses told her he lived and more indisputably he’d seen him personally in 2030—he wasn’t sure how Will had managed the feat on his own.

  The “#2” gave him his clue. A #2 of Will Stark would be a copy. It meant that Will had created a clone of himself to make the fateful journey to Aliomenti Headquarters Island. He’d buried the clone here, perhaps even teleported the replica away as the cloned man’s life force slipped away.

  It also meant that some aspect of Hope had died in 2040, the year he knew Will had whisked his ailing, rapidly aging wife away from their children before the effects of ambrosia withdrawal took her from all of them on a permanent basis.

  How had he saved her, though? They’d certainly tried everything… or, at least, everything they could think of. What had Will tried that they hadn’t? Adam’s eyes flicked to the ambrosia tree in the clearing, his mind returning to the “#1” on the stone… and realized Will had used the same technique to save Hope that he’d used to save Gena’s life more than two centuries ago. Her original body—HS #1— had died, but Will had used cloning and ambrosia to rebuild her body in a healthy form, saving his wife and returning her to an immortal form.

  He wondered if Will had gotten the idea from watching him do the same with Gena… and just how he’d managed to do so if that was the case.

  He blinked, suddenly remembering that he had a deadline, and glanced at his communicator for the current time.