The Bureau of Time Read online

  “After completing an intensive physical and weapons training course, your Supervising Agent, in conjunction with a formal review from the Bureau’s Directors, will advise you where your unique skills will be used to help serve and protect the Bureau of Time.

  “God Bless America.”

  The video segued into an image of the American flag with a brief burst of pompous sixties-era music, and then the presentation ended. Lights flared to life, and Cassie jumped in her seat when she saw two other people in the room – she hadn’t even heard them enter.

  She recognized both. There was a man in his mid-thirties, his black hair greasy and thick, his jaw chiseled; he wore black-and-gray fatigues and held himself with an air of command – she had seen him the night before, when the soldiers had rescued her from the Adjusters.

  Beside him stood a teenager, no older than Cassie herself, with a shock of dyed-white hair and slate-gray eyes. Her heart leaped suddenly, a strange mixture of emotions swirling through her mind; she realized that the bright beacon in her mind – her Affinity – was pointing toward the boy.

  “Cassie,” Natalie said, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “This is Captain Tallon and Timewalker Briars.”

  Cassie stood, aware that her hands were shaking again.

  “Timewalker Wright,” Captain Tallon said, his voice hoarse. He shook her hand roughly, his grip strong. For the moment their hands touched, the strange beacon in Cassie’s mind faded, then returned in force when they separated. His dark eyes roamed over Cassie’s face, making her cringe – it wasn’t a lascivious look, but an appraising one, as though Tallon was sizing her up, determining what she was capable of.

  “I’m the Captain of Clockwork Unit,” Tallon explained. “You’ll be training with the rest of the recruits, but spending time with our operators too.”

  Cassie swallowed past a thick lump in her throat. This is really happening. It was all becoming so real, so quickly. Her old life was being torn down, replaced by this new world.

  “Shaun,” he indicated the white-haired boy, “will show you around the base, and help you to feel at home. We start training first thing tomorrow morning, understood?”

  She opened and closed her mouth like a beached fish. Natalie subtly nudged her in the side, and Cassie mumbled, “Yes.”

  Tallon grunted, throwing a disapproving look at Shaun, as though confirming a shared suspicion. “Yes Captain,” he said, his dark eyes flicking back to Cassie. “We’ll work on that. Briars, show her the ropes – Agent Hunt, a word, please?”

  Tallon nodded once at Shaun, then headed for the door. Natalie stayed a moment, offering Cassie a supportive smile that didn’t ease the fear and anxiety coiling up inside of her.

  “You’ll be fine,” Natalie promised, handing her a pager. “My number’s in there, if you need to talk. Your unit’s numbers too – you’ll be working with them a lot, so don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it.”

  “Thank you,” Cassie murmured, holding the pager limply.

  Natalie followed Tallon out of the classroom, leaving Cassie and Shaun alone. She wasn’t sure what to say, or where to begin. She knew that Shaun had saved her life – Director Anderson had told her that much – but she couldn’t find the right words to thank him.

  “Hey,” Shaun said, snapping her out of her thoughts. He offered her a wry grin that made his gray eyes sparkle – or perhaps it was just an optical illusion under the lights. “Cassandra, isn’t it?”

  “Cassie,” she corrected him automatically.

  “Okay then, Cassie it is.” He offered her another grin. “Come on, I’ll show you around the base.”

  Like a lost puppy, afraid and overwhelmed, Cassie followed after him. The next two hours passed in a complete blur, a sensory overload of names, places, noises and smells.

  “The base itself is completely underground,” Shaun explained as he led her through corridor after corridor. “Just outside Brightwood, Virginia. Aboveground we have the hangar and close-quarter training environment.”

  Brightwood Ranch – as Shaun called it – was alive with activity, bustling with more people than Cassie would have thought possible. For a moment, it was like being back in New York City, with millions of people crowded around her and Adjusters lurking in the shadows; her old fears threatened to return and crush her. Soldiers in black-and-gray fatigues hurried past her, talking loudly; agents in suits, carrying folders or computer tablets, rushed between meetings, always talking loudly to each other or on the phone.

  Cassie forced herself away from Shaun, breaking away down another corridor, this one almost deserted. The walls and floors were covered in white tiles, the air freezing cold, sterile and unwelcoming. She wiped a hand over her mouth, her entire body trembling, and took several slow breaths.

  You can do this, you can do this, she told herself, again and again. But what if I can’t?

  “Are you okay?” Shaun appeared behind her, his tone worried.

  Cassie turned to face him, the worst of her shakes fading into mere tremors. Her face was flushed with embarrassment – she knew how she must look. Weak. Shaun opened his mouth, but he didn’t say anything except, “We’re almost finished.”

  She nodded, her cheeks burning.

  The rest of the tour went much quicker, and without incident. Shaun explained that the Bureau was broken into nine major Sectors, and he showed her the massive gymnasium, the equally large mess hall, and finally the dormitories and bathrooms. The male and female dorms were on opposite sides of the base – to ‘discourage activities unbefitting of the agency’s reputation’, as Shaun recited from memory. Cassie would be bunking with the thirty-odd women who were currently living on-base.

  “All right,” Shaun said, drawing out the second word. He stood outside the women’s dormitory, his hands shoved in his pockets. “That’s all I can show you for now.”

  “Thank you,” Cassie said, her voice a whisper. Louder, she said, “Thank you. An-and about before, I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he told her. There was a pause, then he added, “Listen, I’m glad you’re joining the team. I’m the only Timewalker around here, so it’ll be nice to have some company.”

  Cassie didn’t say anything. She was too overwhelmed to summon a sentence longer than about ten words.

  “Okay then,” Shaun said, almost to himself. He nodded. “Good talk. See you tomorrow, Cassie.”

  He turned and vanished around the corner. Cassie stood, still dumbstruck, now angry with herself more than anything else. She contemplated going after Shaun, saying something intelligent; he expected her to be a Timewalker, but instead she’d acted like a frightened little girl.

  Exactly how I feel.

  She pushed open the door to the dormitory and trudged inside. There were twenty beds on each wall, neatly made and militarily austere. At least there was a curtain to draw around the bed, and a small chest of drawers. It was midday, and the dorm was empty; most beds already had a name assigned on a small plaque. Cassie made her way down to a nameless bed and sank onto the thin mattress.

  Her exhaustion caught up with her, and she fell asleep with tears drying on her cheeks.

  * * *

  She woke from the middle of the nightmare dripping with cold sweat, haunted by an afterimage of her father being stabbed by an Adjuster, his body cold and forever beyond her reach.

  Cassie sat bolt-upright, blinking into the complete darkness. She hadn’t heard the other agents enter the dorm, but she could see their dark shapes rising and falling steadily with sleep. There was the occasional snore and the creak of bedsprings, then nothing but the sound of her own heart hammering in her chest.

  The sheets were hot and uncomfortable under her, and her gray shirt was soaked through with sweat. She brought her knees up beneath her chin and rocked in the darkness. Her stomach growled at her, angry for missing two meals; but her brain kept her rooted to the spot, paralyzed.

  She closed her eyes and thought of the tech
niques the psychiatrist from New York had taught her. She breathed in and out, trying to clear her mind – but it was impossible. For every fear she pushed away, ten more rushed in to replace it. After what felt like hours, she managed to uncurl herself, and reached for the pager she had placed on her chest of drawers. In the darkness, the LCD screen lit up the dorm like a miniature sun; she hastily blocked most of the light with her pillow.

  Her fingers trembling, she arrowed through a list of contacts. The pager was a two-way model that would allow her to send a message. She didn’t even know who she was looking for –Natalie was her first thought, but the older agent lived off-base with her family. She hesitated, then before she could regret it, she sent a message to Shaun Briars: Are you awake?

  She waited, holding her breath. He’s probably sleeping. He wouldn’t care.

  A moment later, the pager vibrated in her grasp: am now. u okay?

  Can’t sleep can u talk?

  The reply took longer than she expected, and for a moment, she wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Then another vibration and: meet me in the mess hall careful of curfew.

  Something Shaun had said earlier came back to her, and she remembered the 10pm – or 2200, as she was supposed to call it – curfew for all agents. But she couldn’t go back to sleep, not with her mind still racing.

  Carefully, she crawled out of bed, the mattress groaning obnoxiously beneath her. She was barefoot, but still wearing her jeans and shirt; the floor was cold on her feet. She crept past the other agents, but she could have run by banging pots for all it mattered – the other women slept soundly. The door proved trickier, letting in a bright beam of white light. She slipped through a crack, shutting the door behind her.

  The base was silent, ghostly. Overhead signs pointed the way to the mess hall. She shivered again, wishing she had a jacket to wear. Twice she caught sight of a patrolling duty officer at the far end of the corridor, and she hurried along, her feet slapping against the tiles.

  The mess hall reminded her of a school cafeteria, with rows upon rows of metal tables and chairs. There was a large serving counter, with metal covers over the empty trays.

  Shaun was already there, hunched over a table. Two steaming cups of coffee sat before him. He looked up at her blearily, his white hair plastered over his forehead. She threaded her way through the tables and sat opposite him.

  “It’s decaf,” Shaun said, nodding at the coffee.

  “Thanks.” Cassie wrapped her hands around the cup, grateful for the heat. Steam curled upward, filling her nostrils. “My dad never liked coffee,” she whispered, her tiny voice magnified by the room’s emptiness. “Said it made him sick just to smell it. I always made a pot in the mornings, just to annoy him.”

  She gave a soft laugh, her eyes still on the coffee. “Seems like a million years ago now.”

  Shaun took a long drink, placing the cup down with a quiet tap. “You made the right decision.”

  “People keep telling me that,” she said, staring at her own reflection in the coffee. “I don’t know that I did.”

  “The Adjusters wanted to kill you,” he said, his voice soft but his tone somber. “They would’ve kept coming after you, again and again. Your family could have been hurt.”

  She nodded. It was the reason she had joined, in the hope that distancing herself would protect her family. And that here, she could learn more about what she was – a Timewalker.

  “The Bureau would have found you anyway,” he sighed.

  She took a tentative sip of coffee, the liquid burning her upper lip. She flinched and put the cup down. Glancing up, she found Shaun and his slate-gray eyes staring hard at her – not as fiercely as Tallon had, but kinder, as though he was looking at a long-lost friend.

  “I – I wanted to thank you,” she began, her throat thick.

  “For the tour? Don’t mention it. They don’t even pay me for it.”

  “Not for that,” she said, the words tumbling out. “For saving me, I mean. I know you were the one who did it. And – well, thank you.” She blushed, realized she was stammering like a fool, and drew up short.

  Shaun hesitated, his eyes dropping. “What I did…it’s supposed to be impossible. I can regenerate parts of my body, but I’ve never used my powers to heal someone else before.”

  “Then how did you do it?”

  He offered a maddening shrug. “Don’t know. The Docs don’t know either. We’re mysteries to them. I’m the first Timewalker the Bureau’s had in years. They don’t really know what we’re capable of, and neither do we.”

  Shaun reached across the table and put a hand over Cassie’s. She flinched, recoiling slightly, but he pinned her wrist in place – gently, but firm enough that she couldn’t pull away. She felt a spark at his touch, and a strange rush of heat raced through her body.

  A headache flared to life along her scalp.

  “Ow,” she said, rubbing her neck with her spare hand.

  “That’s your Affinity,” he told her. He withdrew his hand, and the headache faded. “It’s part of what makes us different. Accessing your Affinity is the first thing you need to learn as a Timewalker.”

  Learn. That brought it all back to Cassie – the sheer reality that she was going to become an agent for the Bureau. The anxiety returned again, a weight crushing her chest.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” she blurted out, breaking Shaun’s grip. “I can’t – I can’t become a soldier!”

  Shaun’s gaze softened and he withdrew his hand. “This isn’t easy, what we’re asking you to do. But this is the best place for you. You know what you are, Cassie, you know what you’re capable of. Out there,” he gestured indistinctly to the ceiling, “out there, we’re outsiders, loners; if people knew what we could do, we’d be labeled as freaks or monsters. But the real monsters are the ones trying to kill us because of what we are – because of a genetic quirk that we can’t control.”

  Shaun leaned on the table, capturing Cassie with his conviction. His words made sense to her – she found herself agreeing with him, her mind slowly accepting this new reality.

  “Don’t think about the future,” he told her. “Don’t think months ahead, or weeks. Just day to day, hour to hour. You’ll get through this, Cassie. You’re going to be with us, with our unit. We’ll always be there, working with you – together.”

  She took a deep breath, and gave an almost imperceptible nod. Wasn’t this what she had wanted? To know she wasn’t crazy? To find people who had the answers she’d known existed all along? Shaun was right – the further ahead she thought, the more impossible it all seemed. But as long as there was someone beside her, supporting her, as long as she took it one step at a time, she knew she could manage.

  “Okay,” she said, offering a weak, hesitant smile. “I think I can do it.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE DAYS

  Shaun edged down the hallway, staring down the barrel of his carbine.

  The hallway was shrouded in darkness, hiding the children’s toys left abandoned on the thick carpet. He flicked on the tactical light, painting the corridor white, revealing the blood stains on the wall. His throat closed over and his heart pounded furiously. He nudged aside an action hero with the toe of his combat boot – lying forgotten on the floor, the hero clutched a Bowie knife as though the little plastic weapon could ward off the evil lurking in the house.

  There were two doors at the end of the hallway. One hung slightly off its hinge; beyond, an empty bathroom with a cracked mirror, a ribbon of crimson smeared across the glass. His palms were slick with sweat, forcing him to wipe each hand on his fatigues. He angled toward the second door, which was slightly ajar. His tactical light drifted over the doorknob, the silver glistening wetly. His stomach churned with fear and apprehension, his mind whirled: Please no, it can’t be possible, please God no—

  He pressed the carbine’s stock into his shoulder, and with his spare hand, he pushed the door open. He entered the room, swinging the weapo
n around, the world turned into still-frames, frozen by the bright tactical light.

  The walls – blue, now scarlet.

  The bed – jagged slashes torn in the covers and mattress.

  The body – a twelve-year-old boy, hanging by his belt from the ceiling fan, an Adjuster knife buried hilt-deep in his chest.

  And worst of all – the eyes, open and glassy, staring straight into Shaun; the corpse’s mouth stretched in a silent scream: Why couldn’t you save me? Why did you let a Timewalker die?

  He couldn’t answer. He collapsed to his knees, and the carpet was soft and wet beneath him – except it wasn’t carpet, it was more bodies, young children, older teenagers, and they were all screaming at him: Why are you the only Timewalker alive?

  * * *

  Shaun’s eyes flew open.

  For a long moment, he lay staring at the ceiling, the nightmare fading back into the dark recesses of the night. Guilt writhed inside him, followed by a toxic mixture of despair, anger, and fear. He gripped the sheets, his fingers digging into the mattress, finding the well-worn grooves from the nightly terror.

  For a brief moment, the usual hopelessness threatened to consume him, the ghostly scream of the twelve-year-old Hayden Miller echoing around his mind. You couldn’t save me. I was just a boy. I died and the Bureau couldn’t save me. You are the only living Timewalker.

  And then, with a sudden rush, it came to him: I’m not alone.

  Cassie Wright, the Shifter from Pennsylvania. She hadn’t been a dream – the pager shoved under his pillow was testament to their late-night conversation. She was real, and he was no longer alone.

  The revelation took his breath away, and the guilt retreated, though only by degrees. Hayden Miller was the closest the Bureau had come to rescuing a Timewalker – and they had failed. Ever since that night six months ago, Shaun had prayed against all hope that they would finally manage to rescue a Timewalker – that, just once, they would find something other than another broken body.