The Bureau of Time Read online

  Shaun panned his tactical light across the room, casting long shadows against the walls. Loose sheets of paper were scattered across the floor, the concrete stained with brown marks that reminded him of dried blood. A heavy miasma of stale air and decay clung to everything around them. Agent Hunt and Cassie turned their own flashlights on, illuminating the room fully.

  Hunt retched and twisted away, coughing violently. Shaun grimaced, his stomach churning.

  He had been right – it was dried blood.

  The brown stains covered the floor and walls, dried flat as though someone had sandblasted the blood into the concrete. There were no bodies, though he saw several abandoned pens and nametags, and scrunched in the corner, what looked like a white doctor’s coat. Shaun took several tentative steps forward, his Affinity searching through the cloud of T.E. to find something, anything, to indicate why there had been a Spike here.

  Cassie picked up a metal nametag, reading the name aloud.

  “Doctor Walter Sharp. Doesn’t say what kind of doctor he was.” She tossed the nametag away, and rubbed her arms. “It’s freezing down here.”

  Shaun hadn’t noticed the temperature, but both Cassie and Hunt were shivering. They were at least fifty feet underground now. He flicked his tactical light onto the ceiling, revealing air ducts. That explained how the people – whoever they were – had survived down here. He turned his light onto another wall and froze.

  “Adjusters,” he said, the word sounding like a gunshot.

  “Where?” Cassie exclaimed, whipping her gun around, as though expecting them to come barging out of a doorway.

  “Not here,” Shaun said. “And put that gun down, you’ll take my eye out.”

  Cassie lowered the weapon, but not before giving him another scathing look. He ignored her, and pointed at the wall. “This blood, it’s black. There were Adjusters here, and I’m willing to bet they killed these people.”

  The walls were smeared with a substance like ink, running in long fingers down to the floor. Now that he looked around, several of the stains he had originally taken as brown were actually closer to black.

  “This place must be older than the factory itself,” Agent Hunt said, speaking for the first time, her tone wavering. “Was the factory built on top of these tunnels?”

  “Don’t know,” Shaun muttered. Then louder, “We have to choose a direction. Hunt, scout out what you can through there.” He pointed to what looked like offices. “Cassie, with me, down here.”

  He gestured to a corridor marked ‘Holding Cells’ again. Reluctantly, the agent followed his orders, the sounds of her footsteps retreating as she explored the offices. Cassie said nothing as they moved down the hallway, following another twist back to the right.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, though down here, his voice was amplified much louder. “I’m sorry that I called you a liability. I – I was just…” He drifted off, unable to find the right words. I was worried about you. Worried that something bad might happen, and that I’d lose you. That I’d lose another Timewalker. Because this time it would be worse than losing Hayden. I didn’t know him. But I know you.

  He couldn’t translate his thoughts into words, so they kept moving, the silent gap between them widening further.

  They entered another open room – the Holding Cells. Six doors surrounded them, each made of solid steel, windowless with only a small slot. One of the doors teetered on a single hinge, and as Shaun swept his light over the ground, he saw more loose paperwork, as though somebody had knocked over an entire filing cabinet.

  He knelt to pick up a piece of paper, detaching the tactical light to use it as a regular flashlight. Cassie squatted down beside him, her eyes darting over the lines. The text had clearly been printed from an old typewriter, one of the keys – a y – slightly elevated from the rest.

  “White Tower Subject Manifest,” Shaun read. “What the hell is ‘White Tower’? I’ve never heard of it. Look at the date: October 17th, 1989.”

  He frowned, and continued, “Subject 16 shows increased paranormal activity, including ability to correctly predict the order of a shuffled deck of cards…I can’t read what that says, it’s too faded. Here – no other notes, save for Subject 23. Great improvement in cellular regeneration. Subject is capable of—”

  Shaun stopped dead. He re-read the same line again, just in case he had missed something the first time. A sour taste spilled into his mouth, burning its way down his throat. His mind was sent spinning like a top and he had to place one hand on the ground to steady himself.

  “What is it?” Cassie shot him a concerned look, trying to read over his shoulder. “What does it say?”

  Shaun swallowed past a thick lump in his throat and read the paragraph aloud, each word echoing in the cramped room hidden beneath the crumbling ruins of a cement factory.

  “Great improvement in cellular regeneration. Subject is capable of healing most non-life-threatening wounds. I consider Subject 23 to be the first successful Timewalker.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE ARRIVAL

  The first Timewalker.

  The words sent an icy chill down Cassie’s spine.

  She rocked back on her heels, her mouth opening and closing without sound. Her tactical light shone across the floor, illuminating dozens of abandoned documents, some handwritten, others printed with an old typewriter. Most of the text was faded beyond recognition, but a few pages had managed to survive the twenty-six years below ground intact.

  She picked up another discarded piece of paper, her eyes darting over the page.

  Again, the same words jumped out at her. White Tower. Timewalker. Cronium. LCS. White Tower. What was this place, and why were all the dates in the mid-to-late ’80s? She searched frantically, seizing the papers with a manic frenzy, stirring the layer of dust.

  “Cassie. Cassie.” Shaun’s voice – urgent and low – snapped her out of her daze. She spun around to face him, loose sheets scattering around her.

  “What?” she asked, but his expression told her everything she needed to know. He put a finger to his lips – quiet – and mouthed the word: Adjusters. Her stomach lurched, and fear stormed through her body, her heart thumping.

  Shaun jumped to his feet and aimed his gun at the doorway. Cassie fumbled with her Glock, desperately trying to remember her training – the hours at the firing range seemed far too short now, and she realized just how underprepared she really was.

  She mentally raced through everything that Ryan and the range master had drilled into her. She gripped the tactical light in her spare hand, the beam jittering all over the wall. She yanked the slide back, racking a bullet with a powerful click. Her palms were sweaty and the gun threatened to slip out of her grasp.

  A ripple of energy tore through the tunnels and cement dust shook from the ceiling, a thin layer of gray accumulating in her hair. The world shuddered and groaned, colors distorting into a kaleidoscopic painting. A warm, moist wind that smelled distinctly of the ocean caught Cassie in the face; there was an explosion of light as the wormhole opened, and three Adjusters stepped out of nothingness.

  Shaun opened fire, the gunshots deafening in the close confines of the room. Cassie’s ears rang and the muzzle flash blinded her. Courage deserted her, replaced with sheer terror. She stumbled backward, her heart threatening to burst out of her ribcage. Through the red haze dancing before her eyes she saw the Adjusters snarling, knives slashing through the air. Shaun retreated, his mouth opened in a shout that was lost in the noise of the raging battle.

  Inky blood splashed against the concrete walls; silver flashed through the air, then a bright arc of red and Shaun cried out, his left arm falling limp. A lightning bolt shot through the back of Cassie’s mind, her Affinity responding to his pain.

  The electric shock cut through her fear, and she brought her gun around, aiming at the nearest Adjuster.

  The monster turned to face her, its uniform embroidered with white threads, a strange symbol o
n its shoulder – it looked like a rook from a chess set. Cassie squeezed the trigger and flinched, readying herself for the gunshot and the recoil.

  Nothing happened.

  The Adjuster’s mouth opened into a cruel smile. The safety’s still on. Cassie fumbled with the handgun, stumbling backward in the small room, trying to buy herself time. There was a blur of movement and Shaun slammed into the monster, the pair of them going down in a flurry of fists.

  Shaun’s carbine clattered away into the corner, beyond his reach. The Timewalker struggled, now on his back, the Adjuster pinning his arms with its knees, trying to force its blade down onto his throat.

  “Shoot!” he bellowed, looking at Cassie, his eyes wide with fear. “Shoot, pull the trigger! Now!”

  She froze. She was paralyzed, watching the fight like an outsider seeing through somebody else’s eyes. It was just her, Shaun and the Adjuster – the other monsters had already been vanquished, nothing left of them except their blades and their black bloodstains.

  Shoot, she told herself. Squeeze the trigger. It’s that simple.

  “Shoot!” Shaun roared, his voice breaking. He slammed his knees into the Adjuster, trying to push the creature away, but it held on tightly. Shaun’s arms were streaked with rivers of blood, soaking into the tattered remains of his fatigues.

  Why can’t I shoot? I should kill the Adjuster. If I don’t shoot, Shaun will die. It’s simple.

  She wanted to shoot, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t pull the trigger. The Adjusters were not human – the Bureau had told her that. She shouldn’t feel bad for killing these monsters. They looked human, but they were not. They were inhuman beasts that had hunted Timewalkers for years, shadows that had stalked her and ruined her life.

  So if she knew all of that, why was it so hard to pull the trigger?

  “Cassie! What are you waiting for?!”

  A gunshot cut through the air, a single bullet. But Cassie hadn’t fired.

  The Adjuster tumbled sideways, a hole blown through its skull. The creature crumpled into a maelstrom of darkness and vanished from the world. Natalie Hunt stood in the doorway, smoke rising from the barrel of her Glock. She lowered the weapon, her face grim.

  Shaun let out a shaky sigh and slid down the wall, groaning. He kept his eyes low, ignoring Cassie. She stood there, frozen, looking at the gun in her hand. She hadn’t fired. Shaun had almost died, and she hadn’t helped him.

  What’s wrong with me?

  He spat blood onto the ground, a ripple of T.E. coursing through the universe as he Timewalked his injuries. The jagged cuts on his arms faded into white scars, leaving a mottled patchwork of red and black blood smeared across his skin.

  “Is everyone okay?” Natalie asked, stepping into the room, her boots scattering the expended bullet casings.

  “Fine,” Shaun snapped. He pushed himself upright and retrieved his gun. He ejected the spent magazine and slammed in a new one, racking the first bullet. “We need to regroup.”

  As if on cue, Ryan and the Captain came running into the room, their eyes widening at the carnage.

  “What happened?” Tallon demanded. “Adjuster attack?”

  “Three of them,” Shaun replied, wiping his mouth. He deliberately avoided Cassie’s gaze as Clockwork Unit left the Holding Cells. “That wasn’t the Temporal Spike we were looking for though.”

  “How do you know?” Tallon asked, his eyes narrowing.

  “I can feel it. I think those Adjusters were scouting out the Spike, like we were.”

  Shaun stooped to pick up a discarded piece of paper, angling his tactical light over the page. “What is this, Captain? Why is this talking about Timewalkers?”

  Tallon glanced at the yellowed page. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of White Tower before.”

  His tone was short and clipped, more abrupt than his usual drawl. Dark, contrasting shadows threw his features into a contorted mask, but for a brief moment, Cassie could have sworn that Tallon was lying.

  “Come on,” Ryan said, hefting his rifle higher. “I don’t like this place. We need to get out of here.”

  “Not until we identify whatever caused the Spike,” Tallon countered, leading Clockwork Unit out of the Holding Cells. They made their way back up the sloping corridor toward the first, largest area.

  “We need to call the attack in,” Natalie pointed out, from the middle of the procession.

  “We can’t reach Eaglepoint from underground,” Ryan reminded her. “We have to get back to the surface.”

  The conversation passed over Cassie’s head without making an impact. Her hands shook uncontrollably, and the handgun trembled in her grasp. Her head buzzed with adrenaline and shock, her thoughts gone haywire.

  I didn’t shoot. Shaun almost died, because of me.

  Clockwork emerged into the open room, where dried bloodstains coated the walls. Shaun stopped at an upturned desk, rifling through the drawers.

  “Briars, what are you doing?” Tallon asked, halting in the middle of the room.

  Shaun seized a stack of paperwork from another desk, his tactical light dancing over the wall.

  “It said Timewalker!” he shouted, kicking a chair aside and breaking the wooden leg. “I don’t know what this place is, but it has something to do with Timewalkers – with us!”

  Cassie stood in the doorway, shivering in the cold air. It felt far colder than it had before. Goosebumps ran along her arms, and her teeth chattered. Her breath came out as a white cloud.

  Then she saw the snowflakes curling through the air.

  It only took her a moment longer to realize that the buzzing in her head was from her Affinity.

  She opened her mouth to shout a warning, and at the same moment, Shaun cried out and staggered forward, clutching his head. The others turned around, their weapons instinctively up at shoulder level. The world flickered like a television changing channel, and a rush of Temporal Energy rippled through the universe.

  Intense pain shot through her skull and she collapsed to her knees, but instead of hitting rough concrete, she sank into a foot of snow. She sucked in a startled gasp, the frigid air burning her throat and leaving her with a taste like ash in her mouth. A pale light turned the world gray, and a bitter wind tugged at her clothes.

  The factory had vanished.

  She kneeled in the snow, the roof open to the sky – a sky covered in thick gray clouds. Where the cement factory should have been, there was a ruined building of glass and steel. Windows were smashed and black smoke billowed toward the heavens, carrying with it embers and the stink of death.

  The ceiling immediately above Cassie had been caved in at some point – no, destroyed. Chunks of concrete and broken solar panels were submerged in the snow, and a large slab of the roof was angled against the wall, forming a makeshift ramp.

  She blinked, and a man stood before her.

  She fumbled in the snow for her handgun, for anything to defend herself with. Her right hand closed on a shard of glass, slicing through her skin. Crimson blood stained the snow as she pushed herself against a wall.

  The man looked to be somewhere in his late twenties, with greasy black hair and thin-framed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He wore a jet-black suit that perfectly fitted his narrow shoulders and complemented his olive complexion. He fixed Cassie with a penetrating glare, his eyes an unnaturally bright shade of green. T.E. rolled off his body, vibrating through the air. Bright anomalies flickered in and out of existence, shards of light that appeared for a moment then vanished a second later.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” the man said. His voice was deep and powerful. “There are some things best left unknown. White Tower is one of them.”

  Cassie was shocked into silence, her mind whirling. Where am I? Where is everyone?

  The man’s head whipped around and he stared at a closed door in the underground room. His entire body flickered, as though he wasn’t actually there. For a brief moment, he looked shorter and far o
lder, in his sixties. Then the moment passed, and he was young again, his face paler now. “They’re coming. You do not have long.”

  He turned his piercing gaze on her again. “Your friend is buried in the snow, twenty yards from the surface.” He pointed up the makeshift concrete ramp. “This Bridge is highly unstable. You will return to your universe soon.”

  Loud noises – shouting and crashing – came from the closed door. The man in the suit turned to walk away, brushing snow from his shoulders.

  “Wait!” Cassie cried. She tried to push herself up, but her injured hand gave out and she fell on her side. There was another ripple through the universe, and the stranger disappeared, leaving no trace of his existence. The crashing grew louder, and the door shuddered dangerously – someone was trying to break it down.

  Desperation and fear seized her, and she used her good hand to struggle upright. She tripped, then regained her balance, and hurried up the slope.

  Aboveground, ash and smoke mixed in the air, forming a toxic cloud. Cassie coughed, her lungs rejecting the choking smog. Around her was nothing but rolling countryside, submerged in snow and ash. The skeletal remains of military tanks dotted the landscape, black crows perched on the mounted guns. The birds let out a mournful cry and took to the skies in a flurry of feathers.

  “Shaun?” Cassie yelled, not caring who heard her. “Shaun?!”

  She started digging in the snow, panic setting in. She heard a resounding crash from behind her, the door finally giving out. Her injured hand left a ribbon of pink as she searched for Shaun, her desperation growing with every passing second. She felt something solid and warm beneath the surface just as the Adjusters teleported into existence. The explosions of light reflected off the white snow, blinding her, but she held onto Shaun’s arm, trying to tug him out of the frozen grave.

  The faceless assassins snarled at her, red sashes tied around their arms. They formed a circle around her, waxy hands gripping the hourglass-shaped handles of their knives. Cassie threw all of her strength into one mighty heave, and Shaun breached the surface, his slate-gray eyes shooting open.