Loop (32 page)

“We have to hurry.”

But it was too late. Within moments, footsteps reverberated through the hall. Coach Black rounded a corner farther down the corridor, his arms full of tru-ants. His face lit up. Quigley sped up, dragging me along and pushing Finn forward.

“Look what I found,” she called to him, giving my arm a few reassuring squeezes. “You aren’t going to believe it. Hiding in my storage closet.”

“Huh ho. Well done, Lise. Two for the price of one. I’ll take ’em from here.”

“Nice try,” she said with a too-cheerful laugh. “These two are mine.”

Quigley tried to navigate around him toward the Launch Room.

He took a step to block her path. “Bergin’s office is thataway.” Coach Black’s expression didn’t hold enough surprise for my taste.

“Of course. It’s … it’s late.” Quigley steered us to the opposite side of the hall.

“Sure you don’t want me to go with you? Make sure you don’t get lost?”

“No need.” She clicked past him as fast as she could without a backward glance. When Coach Black was out of earshot, she pried her nails out of my arm. “It looks like we’ll need to adjust the plan.”

Hmm, yeah. The
plan.

So far, the plan consisted of sending Finn home (which didn’t work out so hot), marching me down to Bergin’s office, waiting for Quigley to distract the headmaster, turning the office upside down (neatly) in search of the device thingy, and … running like hellfire was nipping our heels.

Needless to say, the plan was not without its share of wrinkles. Fine. Our current strategy made my data disk theft look like a masterminded, high-security art heist. But it was the best one we had.

It was the
only
one we had.

When we reached Bergin’s office door, Finn took a deep breath, reached his hand out to mine, and said, “No matter what, I stick with you.”

“You seem to be good at that,” I said.

“Shh.” Quigley leaned forward and brushed her hair against the scanner. As the door slid open, her QuantCom clattered to the ground.

I leaned down to pick it up. But then the room came into full view. And the Com slipped out of my hold.

“Mom?”

chapter 29

“MOM?” I REPEATED.

So much for the plan.

It took a few moments for me to notice Headmaster Bergin sitting at his desk, his hands clasped under his chin. It took a few moments to notice anything, really, except my mom. In the room. Awake.

Well, kind of awake.

A ribbon of drool dripped down the corner of her chapped lower lip. It pooled in a crease of her hospital gown, paper-thin like her skin. Her head pivoted in slow motion to the sound of my voice. Half-closed eyes focused on empty space above us, and her mouth drifted open and closed a few times before her jaw fell slack. To my relief, her head swiveled back to Bergin. A peaceful coma was one thing. Zombie Poppy made me ill.

“Welcome, welcome. Look who’s awake.”

I couldn’t tell if Bergin was talking about me or my mom. Either way, the sick feeling in my stomach spread. He had told me earlier she was getting worse. That was before I knew her coma was medically induced.

“Could any of us have foreseen this joyous turn of events?” He clapped his hands together. “Imagine my surprise, Miss Bennis, at finding an empty bed when I went to your room to tell you the wonderful news. Tsk, tsk. You sent us on quite the little ant chase.”

“I’ll see to her punishment immediately, Headmaster,” said Quigley. “This is a disciplinary matter. No reason for you to get involved. Besides, she’s headed to Resthaven in a few hours.”

“Oh, I think we both know she’s not going to Resthaven anytime soon.”

A foreboding feeling lashed me to my core. Bergin knew about Resthaven. There was no telling what else he knew. Or suspected.

“I’m perfectly capable of handling this little infraction.” He chided Quigley like a disobedient puppy, and there was a slicing edge to his voice that had never been there before. “But not tonight. Tonight is cause for celebration.”

I looked over at my mother. Celebration. Not quite the way I envisioned it.

“Before you know it,” he went on, “things will be back the way they should be.”

I looked between Bergin and Quigley, unsure of how to respond. This was the moment I’d dreamt of. My mom awake. Promises of normal. But then I looked over at Finn and realized normal was no longer an option. Or maybe just that my normal would never be the same. I might not know what Truth that device held, but I knew I had to find out.

“Actually, I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to replace Mom’s chip.” I glanced at Quigley again for backup. “And I’m transferring Mom to Resthaven for her recovery.”

Bergin’s grin faltered for a blip.

And that’s when I saw them, skulking in the shadows of the draperies behind Bergin’s desk. Two men in bright red scrubs. I couldn’t tell if they were the same men who had been in my house when I dropped Finn off. Heck, I couldn’t even tell the two guys standing in front of me apart, except one of them was bald. A Shavie. I didn’t want to think about how he’d gotten his job. It certainly didn’t look like he was there for his bedside manner. For the first time, I noticed the initials
ICE
were emblazoned across both their lapels.

“A new chip wouldn’t fix everything, Bree,” said Bergin. “The Initiative for Chronogeological Equality wants to put
everything
aright.”

“By doing what? Repairing her current chip?” I rolled my eyes. Six months of memories, of laughter, of love, of
life.
That’s what she lost—what we both lost. “You want to fix things? Put things right? Give us back the last six months.”

“Okay,” said Bergin quietly.

“Okay?” I snorted. “And how do you plan to do that? Go back and change the past?”

“Precisely.”

His calm inflection struck me mute for a moment, but then I laughed in earnest. “Umm, you can’t change the past.”

“
You
can’t.” Bergin’s mouth fought its way into a straight line, but a snicker escaped out the side. The Red Scrubs behind him chortled along to whatever the inside joke was.

I stopped laughing.

“No one can,” I said. “Shifters have tried over and over. It’s impossible.”

“Exactly,” said Bergin. “Shifters have tried. And Shifters have failed. Because Shifters’ tendrils have always stretched to that spot in that moment. The past isn’t their past. It’s their present.”

I looked up at Quigley to see if she had some insight into his rambling, but she appeared as lost as I was.

Bergin pulled open his top desk drawer and pressed a series of buttons, revealing a hidden panel in the bottom. He removed two objects and laid them next to each other on his desktop. The first I recognized as the shiny silver object he’d told me was a writing pen. The second looked identical until I noticed a slight difference. The first device, the one I remembered from earlier that had been taken from Quigley’s office, had a jagged end, like someone had carved a triangle-shaped notch out of it. This second one ended in a clear bulb filled with swirly blue fluid.

He picked up the first and clicked the end in and out. In and out. I glanced at Quigley and she nodded to confirm it was the stolen device.

“I’m sure you know what we want of you,” he said.
Click.
In and out.

“I … I don’t,” I answered truthfully.

“Don’t play coy, Miss Bennis. Your mother already announced that convoluted clue to the device’s location.” He picked up a Com off his desk and walked over to my mom. The stunner jutted out from the end. I didn’t know what a zap from one would do to her already-fragile nervous system. I couldn’t risk finding out.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, “but whatever it is you want, I’m sure we can figure something out so no one gets hurt.”

“Exactly.” Bergin clapped his hand against my mom’s back in a hearty slap, and Finn and I both winced at how close the stunner came to her exposed neck. “No one needs to get hurt.”

He reached down in an almost involuntary movement and brushed his hand against his dead wife’s picture.

“No more hurt,” he said again quietly. “Ever again.”

Okay, this was getting creepy. I had to get us all out of here. Forget the device. Whatever it did, the world wouldn’t end if I left it and ran.

While Bergin was still staring at the picture of his wife, I motioned to Finn and Quigley that we should bolt. They both nodded and Finn looped his hand under my mom’s arm. For a moment, I had forgotten about the Red Scrubs’ presence, but they hadn’t forgotten us. They strode around opposite sides of the desk and glared at Finn until he let go of Mom.

Bergin snapped back to attention.

“Now, now,” he said to the Scrubs. “I’m handling this.”

They returned to their post, but the menacing scowls didn’t disappear.

“Look, I just want to leave and pretend none of this happened,” I said.

“What if you didn’t have to pretend?” asked Bergin.

“Are we back to the absurd changing-the-past talk?”

“It’s not absurd.”

“But the Doctrine of Inevitability—”

“Applies to Shifters.”

“Precisely,” I said, “and Shifters are the only ones who can travel to the past.”

“Again, Shifters aren’t traveling to the past. They’re traveling in their present.”

Ugh. Not the best time for a chicken–egg headache.

“Okay then,” I said. “Shifters can’t change anything in their present, which happens to be in everyone else’s past. Better?”

Bergin chuckled and picked up the second device. “That answer would get you a passable grade in Introduction to Chronogeological Displacement. I should give Dr. Raswell a raise.” He paused, twirling the device thoughtfully. The pearlescent blue liquid sloshed against the sides. “Have you ever been in love, Miss Bennis?”

The question made me startle, and I side-eyed Finn as I stammered out a nonanswer.

Bergin kept talking as if I weren’t in the room. “My wife was beautiful. After she died, I remembered thinking, ‘If I could just see her face
one more time,
that would be enough.’ If I could count those freckles that she complained about but never went to have removed. Or I’d memorize the exact shade of her hair—the color of wheat the day before harvest. And her eyes, so blue and so deep, you could drown in them.”

I squirmed. Those were the exact thoughts I’d had about my mom not twelve hours ago.
Just one more time.
Of course, I was a Shifter. I’d been able to go back and do what he was describing.

“But it wouldn’t be enough, Bree, would it?” he said as if he had read my mind.

“What does this have to do with changing the past?” I asked.

“I want you to understand the possibilities, the potential for good, in what I’m about to tell you. This”—Bergin held up the blue fluid-filled device—“is the Initiative for Chronogeological Equality’s Portable InterChronogeological Stabilizer. We’ve nicknamed them IcePicks for short. It acts a bit like your microchip, only it bypasses the need for hippocampal mutation. After genetic calibration, it allows unmutated tendrils to adhere to different time periods.”

“Could you, umm, translate for those of us who skipped that class?” Finn said.

“In short, this device allows nonShifters to Shift.”

“Excuse me?” My ears must have been malfunctioning. That or my brain.

“It’s true. ICE has been developing it for quite some time.”

“That doesn’t make sense. ICE exists to help Shifters, to help us pay for chips and research better Buzz control.”

“And that very research has … aided them in developing the Pick.”

“What, like guinea pigs?” asked Finn.

“How exactly does it work?” Quigley beat me to the question.

“How?” Bergin didn’t look any of us in the eye. He took his time smoothing down the panel that concealed the IcePick’s hiding spot.

“Yes. How?” I stared at Bergin.

“I … I don’t really…”

Oh my blark.
This was getting better and better.

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t know how it works?”

“I … umm.”

“You’d trust that thing to screw around in someone’s brain without fully understanding how it even works?” With an uncomfortable jolt, I realized the same accusation could be flung at Shifters with our chips. I stuffed the thought away. Our chips were necessary to prevent the Madness. What Bergin was describing was a madness all its own.

“The Pick was developed to improve relations between Shifters and nons.” He sounded like he was quoting a brochure. “To eliminate inherent jealousy over your abilities.”

“So
anyone
who wants to travel to the past can?”

“That was the original plan, yes. But during initial test runs, we discovered an unexpected side effect. We’ve had to modify the plan accordingly, be more selective.”

“Meaning?” asked Finn.

“We can change the past.”

“No, you can’t,” I said. This was beyond preposterdiculous. Bergin was crazier than those unchipped Shifters at Resthaven.

“I assure you, we can.”

“So somebody can
finally
go back and kill Hitler?” said Finn.

“No,” said Bergin. “If I were to travel to 1939 Berlin, I would only be able to observe and participate, much like any Shifter does now.”

“But you just said—”

“I should clarify,” said Bergin. “NonShifters are able to change their own pasts. A nonShifter is able to interact with his or her past self to … correct course, if you will.”

“You claim people have already done it,” I said. “Then why has no one noticed these supposed changes?”

“The alterations only have a
significant
impact on the changer’s life. They create a new, improved time line. Everyone’s quantum tendrils—”

“Is he talking about the brain tentacles?” Finn whispered to me.

“Shhh.”

“Ahem, everyone’s quantum tendrils adjust seamlessly to this new time line—leaving everyone, including the changer, blissfully unaware that any alteration has taken place.”

“Everyone?” The question came from Quigley. She’d gone unusually pale during the conversation.