Carolyn ODoherty - Reckless

RECKLESS

a REWIND novel

CAROLYN ODOHERTY

Text copyright 2021 by Carolyn ODoherty

All rights reserved.

Copying or digitizing this book for storage, display, or distribution in any other medium is strictly prohibited.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

ISNB: 978-1-7366628-0-9 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-7366628-1-6 (ebook)

First edition

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Cover design by Barbara Grzeslo

Cover photo Mark Owen/Trevillion Images

The text is set in Janson MT.

The Dr. Ellery narratives are set in Century Gothic

Happy are they who die in swaddling clothes,

And wretched they who die in utmost age.

Blessed is he who is not born, tis said.

And even though the errant crowd may hold

That for long ages Fame may still endure,

What is it that so highly is esteemed?

Time in his avarice steals so much away:

Men call it Fame; tis but a second death,

And both alike are strong beyond defense.

Thus doth Time triumph over the world and Fame.

Francesco Petrarch

The U-Hauls engine shuts down with a rattling cough. I lift my head off KJs shoulder, instantly alert, and blink into the absolute darkness filling the back of the truck.

Were free.

The words pop into my head, bringing a burst of happiness that explodes inside me like my own private fireworks. The murmur of tentative voices rising through the dark confirms that this isnt a dream. We did it. KJ and I rescued all twenty spinners from Portlands supposedly secure Crime Investigation Center and brought them here, miles from where we started, to the brink of a new life. A safe life, where no one will control us or our time skills.

You awake, Alex?

KJs whisper is so close to my ear that his breath tickles my neck. I reach through the darkness and find his hand. When I touch it, his fingers twine with mine.

A loud creaking sound comes from outside as our driver, Yolly, climbs from the trucks cab. Seconds later, she yanks the rear roll-up door partway open with a deafening clatter. Normal darkness, the kind lightened by moon and stars and streetlamps, floods our cave-like space. In the soft glow, I can make out the outlines of the kids KJ and I rescued, curled together like puppies on a patchwork assortment of pillows and blankets. At the lip of the trucks bed stands Yolly, her round form a solid mass of reassurance.

Everyone OK in there? she whispersan unnecessary courtesy, given that all the people clustered around me are wide awake.

Were great. I crawl toward the opening, KJ at my heels.

Wait here, I tell the other spinners as I squeeze my way through them. KJ and I will make sure everything is safe.

What about us? asks Aidan. Were just supposed to stay wedged in here?

Yep, KJ answers.

Aidan mutters, So they think theyre in charge now? to his buddy Raul, but neither of them gets out from under his blankets.

I swing myself out of the truck, wincing a little when my feet hit the ground. Its been a long night. The short nap I snatched on the hour-long drive over here is holding back the worst of my exhaustion, but it hasnt erased the headache beating a persistent drumroll inside my skull.

KJ clambers out behind me, stretching his long body like a cat and darting quick glances at our surroundings, presumably searchingas I amfor a sign of someone about to attack. No one appears. The night smells like diesel and hums with quiet. To our right are a handful of long-haul trucks, their slumbering forms blocked from the freeway by a stand of tall pines. To our left, empty parking spots face a low concrete building. A sign hung near the door proclaims men over the blue-and-white image of a person in a wheelchair. Theres a soda machine next the building and a display of maps and tourist information. I cant read the notices from here, but if were in the right place, theyll be telling us about the wonders of Oregons Columbia River Gorge.

Is the guy youre meeting here? Yolly asks, peering across the dim lot. Shes parked the U-Haul in a spot at the end, as far as she could get from the lights.

He should be, I say. This is the Moose rest stop, right?

Memaloose, Yolly corrects me.

The word slides from her on a heavy sigh, and I study her more closely. Yolly looks as tired as I feel. Her full lips are pinched, and there are cavernous circles under her eyes. A twinge of guilt dims some of my happiness. What has Yolly been thinking about as she chauffeured us on this midnight drive? Does she regret what shes done? Yolly is an adult and an employee of the Center. If they figure out that she helped twenty spinners escape, she wont just lose her job. Yolly will go to jail.

I dont see him, I say, pushing my guilt aside to answer her original question. But Im sure hes on his

A car exits the highway, heading in our direction. KJ yanks down the trucks roll-up door and pulls Yolly and me behind the vehicles bulky mass. All three of us peer around the side to watch as the cars headlights grow bigger. A familiar thread of worry worms its way up from the back of my mind. What if this is a trap, and instead of coming here to take us to a spinner refuge, Miguel actually works for the Center? What if its the Centers director, Dr. Barnard, or my former time agent, Carson Ross, who leaps from the oncoming car, bringing with him the leashes that prevent us from freezing time? Or worse, what if the car is full of wipers?

I clench my teeth, willing the fear to go away, which only sort of works. Knowing that freezing time for extended periods causes paranoia doesnt stop my alarm bells from clamoring.

You think its Miguel? KJ asks me. He shoots a quick glance at Yolly, and I know hes thinking the same thing I am: She shouldnt have turned off the truck.

Why dont you wait in the cab, I tell Yolly. Well go talk to the driver, and if hes not who we think, or if he does anything threatening, you drive everyone else away. OK?

Yollys eyes go wide. You dont think somethings going to go wrong, do you?

A quiver of fear prickles my scalp. Of course I do.

The lights of the car swing to one side, and a compact blue Honda pulls into a spot three spaces over from us. The prickles on my head spread, and every hair on my body turns into an antenna. I take a deep breath and force myself to smile at Yolly.

Nothing is going to go wrong, I tell her. Its just in case.

Yolly makes her way along the side of the U-Haul and climbs back into the cab, her hesitation clear in the half-hearted thunk of the door closing. I scan the darkness beyond the restrooms. If this is a trap and Yolly somehow manages to get away, where could she possibly take our friends?

The Honda cuts its headlights, and the engine dies.

KJ grabs my hand. We should check it out.

Right, I whisper. Ill do it.

He nods. I adjust my focus inward. Time drifts through meminutes, seconds, instantsall sliding forward into the unknowable future. I reach out with my mind. To me, time is not an invisible force; its a weave I can grab hold of, made up of a million endless strands. I lock onto them and drag the world to a halt. At least thats my intent, but when I close my mental grip, time slides through my grasp like so much confetti. I try again. Nothing.

You do it, I whisper to KJ. I cant.

He doesnt look surprised. Ive frozen time so often tonight that I literally passed out from the strain before we left the Center; its hardly shocking that I havent built up enough strength to do it again. It is worrisome, though. Were not safe yet, and traveling without any time skills makes me feel as exposed as a snail without its shell.