Future Threat

20

“Besides,” Chris adds, slapping me on the back. “You saved my life. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” I roll my eyes, but I can tell he won’t back down from this. “Fine, you go after him, and we’ll find the others. I’ll take the hacker girl. Adam you can track down the ex-gymnast. Based on what the guard said, Jeremy Sharp is probably with one of them.”

“Got it,” Adam says.

We take a minute to research our assigned person. Aether has updated the profiles on each of them with a new section about their future selves. Future-Zahra lives in Washington, DC, works for the FBI in computer security, and is single. Her older brother is dead, and the only connection she still has in LA is her mother, who is widowed and lives alone in the house she’s owned since Zahra was a kid. Guess I’ll start there. If that doesn’t work, I have no other leads, and with her hacking skills, Zahra could be a tough one to track down. I’m sure she’s the one who disabled all of Aether’s trackers.

“Bad news,” Chris says. “Future-Ken died ten years ago.”

“How?” Adam asks.

“He had something called Huntington’s disease. Sounds like a pretty awful way to go. Shows up in your thirties or forties and really messes you up, and then you die shortly after. Says here he’s buried with his parents, so I’ll try the cemetery to see if he’s gone there to check out his grave.”

“Good idea,” Adam says. “Paige Hawkins is married to a congressman and lives in Pasadena. I’ll head to her house and see if she’s there.”

“What about this Jeremy guy?” Chris asks. “What if he isn’t with the others? He’s the whole reason we’re here. If we don’t bring him back alive, our deal with his father will be off.”

Adam’s eyes go vacant as he uses his flexi. “Hmm. According to the files, Future-Jeremy is divorced, has no kids, and is working as a physicist for Pharmateka, of all things—guess he left his father’s company at some point to join Aether’s rival.”

“His house is near the cemetery where Ken is buried,” Chris says. “I’ll stop by there on my way and check it out.”

A hunter-green car zooms down the street—or a few feet above it, anyway—and halts beside us. The windows are tinted black, but the door slides open and a familiar face peers at us from inside. “Get in!”

All I can do is stare at the guy in the car, someone I never imagined seeing again. Someone we only know from the other timeline we visited. Someone who hasn’t even been born yet in the present.

“…Wombat?” I ask. “What are you doing here?”

“My boss sent me to help you.”

“Who’s your boss?”

He grins at me. “You are.”

01:17

Wombat gestures for us to get in the car. “Come on, I’ll explain everything once you’re inside.”

The guys are speechless as they stare at Wombat, like they’ve seen a ghost. “What about our car?” Chris finally asks.

“Leave it. Or tell it to head back to Aether. Whatever. You don’t need it anymore.”

The three of us share stunned looks, but then we slide inside. Wombat’s car is smaller than the one we borrowed from Aether’s and smells like fried chicken and pine. Empty food containers and other trash litter the floor, and there’s a dry, crusty air freshener hanging in the center, which I guess explains the pine.

“Sorry, I should have cleaned this first,” he says, shoving a fast-food bag off the seat so I have more room. “I’ve been really busy, but I should have made time. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t know you were coming, eh?”

“You knew we’d be standing outside the Pharmateka lab at exactly”—I check my watch—“5:21 p.m.?”

“You can thank yourself for that. Your memory is on point, even at almost fifty.”

So I am alive in this timeline. And I’m his boss. Everything I saw on the Wikipedia page must be true. I don’t know why I’m so surprised, but I suppose it’s one thing reading about your future, and another thing having the evidence right in front of you.

As the car takes off and begins speeding in the direction of downtown Los Angeles, I study the man sitting in front of us. He’s our age, with dark hair and impish brown eyes, wearing a black button-down shirt with lights along the collar that subtly shifts colors.

He’s thinner than the guy I saw in the other timeline, and looks more polished and put-together. The Wombat I remember lived out of his mother’s garage, was surrounded by technology both new and old, and looked like he hadn’t shaved or bathed in weeks. He made us fake IDs and made puppy-dog eyes at Zoe, but we knew nothing else about him except that he was a friend of Future-Adam’s.

“It’s warped, seeing you guys my age,” Wombat says, squinting at each of us. “You’re so young.”

“It’s strange seeing you too,” Adam says. “You look…different.”

“Oh right, you told me you’d met me before, in another future. So rad!”

“He…I…told you about all that?” Adam asks. My question is, who says rad?

“Yep. The three of you came to my house two years ago, when I was sixteen. I was, like, no frickin’ way, the founders of Future Visions Industries are at my house! I thought I was in trouble or something, but you offered me a job and told me this ridic story of how you time traveled and met me in another timeline and I helped you out. Have to admit, I never really believed it until I saw the three of you standing here at exactly the time you told me you would be.” He lets out a low whistle. “Time travel, right? So mega. Hey, what did Aether give you? Flexis? Hand ’em over.”