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The impact concussions ramped up as the drone drew closer.
Dead or alive?
The question repeated in time with each thumping step, though he tried to stop it. Even a small loss of control angered him, made him long to hurt something. The ground shook harder than a drone could achieve. It seemed his time fix hadn’t reached its ground zero yet. In his real lair, he pulled up the data. The contracting of his laboratory was increasing, but hadn’t reached a dangerous level yet. What concerned him more than the shrinking were the earthquakes and storms. If it continued to destabilize, matter could begin to shift in and out of phase. At that point, anyone in the altered reality could cease to exist, or be cut in half like the drones. Logically, if time were trying to wind back, they should disappear as they arrived, but time wasn’t tidy and he’d made sure it wasn’t logical in this place. He had time, but if the fix didn’t happen, he might have to shift the critical specimens to a more secure location. The alternate reality kept them off the time grid, but there wasn’t much left to oppose him. Even Time would find it hard to stop him now. It should be safe enough to bring them back into the central time line.

He recalled the missing tracker—but dismissed him as quickly as he’d recalled him. Or possibly her, though he doubted it was the female. Somewhere in time, he was already secured in a time trap. He might not even bother to collect him. If all went as planned, he would cease to exist. The changes were already moving back in time, like an incoming tidal wave. No one and nothing could stop it now.

He saw the automaton’s head first. It popped into view over the top of the line of warehouses along the river that he’d chosen to house his research facilities. The stomp of its feet loosened grit from the ceiling to shower the Doctor and Tobias. It drifted through his virtual self. He wanted to wave it away and his nose itched, though he couldn’t feel it or smell it. He resisted the urge. It wasn’t logical. Focused his attention on the approaching drone. It would clear the last barrier in a few seconds and then he’d know—

He didn’t like to show surprise, because it wasn’t logical, but even he couldn’t stop the blink at the sight of the drone’s sagging digits. It thumped up and held out its hand, clearly unaware it had lost its prize.

The Doctor fussed forward and studied the damage. “The bolts have been removed.”

“Clever.” Tobias spoke, though he knew he shouldn’t.

Faustus fought back the reaction, stayed in the moment, hard to do when dealing with all time. In his mind, he saw her again, the odd hair and intense gaze. “A wench with a wrench. How…interesting.”

* * * *

“We are not going to help you capture one of these,” Glarmere paused so that his distaste could be fully assimilated, before continuing, “
zombies
.”

His tone implied a lack of belief, either in her ability to capture a zombie or in the zombies themselves. Hard to tell and it didn’t matter. Emily had given up caring what random people thought about her a long time ago. It was that or therapy and there weren’t a lot of therapeutical options in Wilcox. A random person with self-importance issues from another galaxy wasn’t going to change that.

“I didn’t ask you to help me,” Emily pointed out. She hadn’t even hoped they’d help, since she had their number. A very small, very whiny number. “Just don’t get in my way.” She shifted her shoulders, feeling her inner ninja and liking it. Didn’t hurt to know the nanites were on board, since it was their plan.

She’d already scouted a location for—her mind shied away from it. No sense dwelling on icky details in advance. Just take it one step at a time. And she wasn’t afraid to admit that a first step that involved major ninja-like ass kicking wasn’t a bad step to take. Acquiring a target wouldn’t be a problem either. Since first light the streets had had a steady stream of them coming and going.

They are searching.

I know.
She looked at her unwelcome companions. Zombies could be hunting for her. The automaton had to have reached the evil overlord by now. Or he’d sent these out to hunt for Robert and the motley crew. Could all the activity mean that Robert was close? She fought back the urge to run into the street and yell his name.
I know. No names.
Though the reasons for it weren’t clear.

If time trackers are involved, you will not wish them to know our identity.

Right. They could mess with my history.
This all sucked of course, but in a very cool way.

You are a most unusual human, Em.

She had heard that, though not quite in those words.
The problem won’t be finding a zombie, but getting one isolated.
She could take a couple, maybe even three, but beyond that number, the uncertainty factor got too high. As if the evil overlord knew that, the zombies shuffled around in groups of four to five. Would have been nice if ET One and Two kicked in a little help, though, she might be able to get them to kick in some unintended help.

“Since you don’t want to participate, I’m going to move my operation across the hall.”

The tenement building could have starred in a horror movie. There were signs there’d been people living in them, but she’d cleared the whole building, going into silent room after silent room. Some of the rooms showed signs of a struggle. Others looked abandoned. She wasn’t sure which was creepier.

They just nodded, which didn’t speak well for their long-term freedom prospects. She waited until one of the smaller groups of zombies closed on her position, then headed for the door, exited and slammed it. She headed up the stairs, just high enough to keep the door in sight, but also deep enough to put her in shadow. She’d considered hiding in the room across the hall, but wasn’t sure the zombies had good enough hearing. If all four trapped her in the room, well, not a good plan.

No shock it took a while for the zombies to shift direction and climb the steps. She tensed, waiting to see if they’d allow themselves to be divided. Almost as if they were connected, they all turned toward the room she’d just left. Oops. On the upside, they couldn’t all get through the door at once. Which didn’t stop them from trying. Sounds of alarm came from the room, upping the zombies desire to enter. And providing her with sound cover.

She went over the railing, dropping lightly next to the small mob. Dropped one with a sassy, ninja kick to the chin. Spun like a pro and took out number two with this double hand hit that happened so fast she missed it and she did it. Sort of.

The two remaining zombies had started to figure out they were under attack from the rear and tried to reverse course while still stuck in the doorway. This allowed the two men to pretend to be brave and turn their attempts to get out of the room into something that almost looked like punching. Which made it possible for Emily to take down the last zombie. He obliged her by falling into the room, clearing the doorway for the two men to scramble past the zombie they’d managed to knock down and get stuck in the door trying to get away.

“There’s a ton more of those outside, if that’s where you’re headed.”

Her voice stopped them, though it failed to unstick them from the doorway.

“You tricked us.”

“I tricked them. You, I motivated.” She crouched, grabbed “her” zombie by the arms and dragged him into the middle of the dismal room. “I’m not telling you what to do, but if those zombies wake up, might be a good plan to have them wake up somewhere else.”

“What are you going to do to that one?” Carig asked, as he finally popped free of the doorway.

“You probably don’t want to know that.” She didn’t want to know what she was going to do, but that didn’t stop her from extracting her Mega PocketKnife 3000—she hoped she survived to tell Eddie just how useful her infomercial purchases had turned out to be—and picking a blade.

* * * *

Robert wasted some time arguing over whether to land or keep flying. The sight of hundreds of airships rising from the gray fog that lay over the city tilted the vote the direction he wanted. The surgery was going to be difficult enough without trying to do it in a moving airship.

Purple guy managed to bring the airship down with only a couple of bangs and bounces against the rooftop they hastily chose, mostly because it was empty. As soon as they touched down, Robert opened the air release valve as wide as it would go. The Biker guy attacked the envelope on the visible-from-the-air side, using one of his many knives, trying to speed up deflation.

Never leave intact an asset that can be used against you later.

While the position was easily visible from other airships, which meant a zombie incursion was in the future, Robert hoped the deflated, destroyed envelope would make the airship appear deserted. As the envelope drooped over them, it turned the air musty and close and shut out enough light to make it a bit creepy. Robert felt a pang at losing the ship and the illusion of safety it had given them. Em would have hated taking it down, he was sure.
Em.
He had to find a way to find her, to contact Wynken and Blynken and save the day. She thought he was a hero. He had to
be
a hero.

He posted the motley guys as guards. The Belle, with a lot of simpering—Nod’s description because Robert could never remember using or thinking that word—offered to assist during the surgery. Robert could admit to surprise at their ready agreement to help him cut into a zombie head, until it occurred to him that they needed to know there was a way back. Hope was seriously missing in this gray, dismal place. They’d pinned it on him, adding the weight of their need to that of Em and the peeps. At his request, they’d assembled anything that could pass for a surgical instrument—a small assortment of knives, some handkerchiefs and a pair of tweezers.

The impossible just takes longer.

The first challenge to overcome: sedation. The peeps thought they could send in nanite drones, non-sentient scouts that could target the pain and movement centers of the brain. He wouldn’t be medically unconscious, but he also wouldn’t feel pain or be able to move. If the zombie had some kind of anti-nanite shield, then the operation would be over before it started. Heroes didn’t torture people, even zombie people. The two captured and blind folded zombies lay on the deck, in the shadows cast by the sagging envelope, twitching occasionally. Based on the kissing experiment, Nod believed that physical contact would allow nanite penetration. Robert hoped skin-to-skin touch would be enough, because he was
not
kissing this guy.

Robert knelt by him and laid his palm against the guy’s mouth. No surprise he opened it a bit, allowing the drones non-skin access. The drones were to attempt penetration, avoiding contact with anything that looked suspicious. If they survived, they were to move in and map the area of interest and attempt to send back a report.

Robert’s palm tingled as the insertion began. Nod estimated it would take a full minute to know if the drones had been eliminated or not.

“Shouldn’t you ask for something to cut with?” the Belle whispered.

Robert ignored her. Did the guy’s breathing seem deeper? He lifted the man’s hand, let it go. It dropped and the twitching had stopped.
Why no HUD?
He had been counting on the heads up display to assist him with the depth of the incision.

It is possible that communication can’t occur until there is an incision. The kissing was—

I know what the kissing involved. Weird to be embarrassed and strengthened by the memory of kissing Em.
He shelved embarrassed and used the strength to help him deal with what was. It wasn’t what he’d hoped for, but at least there were signs the drones had survived the insertion. Robert flexed his fingers, held out his hand. “Scalpel.” It sounded better than “pocketknife.”

With something between a smirk and a simper, the Belle placed the pocketknife in his palm. Inside his head, Nod snarled again, though he also offered a stabilizing influence as Robert placed the blade against the line of the scar. He hesitated, caught between his total lack of medical experience and the flood of knowledge from his sister.
If we’re wrong—

Trust yourself, Robert-oh-my-darling.

For some reason, calling him that connected Robert to Emily and steadied his insides. This was for her, to find her and free her. He pushed the blade into the skin and turning the line red as the blood broke free of flesh and ran down the zombie’s neck, forming bright stains on the ground. Before he had time for his stomach to lurch—a HUD appeared inside his head, the area with the mind control device a well defined, yet ominously blank spot.

I have made contact.
A pause.
Dampening field seems to be confined to the surface of the skin. The breach allows us to connect, though not an unlimited connection.

Why the extreme hostility to the peeps—but he already knew the answer on some level. They were highly ethical and an effective fighting force, despite their size. Time trackers. Time pins.
Time.
If someone wanted to impact the time line, the peeps had the power to stop it. Look what they’d done for Delilah. They’d protected her through two time resets. If it was as Delilah had suspected, if someone was hinking with time, then they’d figured out that the peeps didn’t like it. And had made plans to keep them from this place, or render them ineffective if they did get in.

“Swab it,” he ordered, thankful he could multi-task, though this felt more like panic and calm fighting for supremacy. If this were some kind of constructed alternate reality, what would happen to the people in it if it ceased to exist? The nanites had done something so complex neither he nor Delilah understood the math, in order to protect her, but if they couldn’t do anything here—

Deal with the problem in front of you.

With a lot less simper—and a lot more pale—the Belle staunched the flow with one of the handkerchiefs.

With the HUD in place, he was able to adjust the depth of the incision until the tip of the blade scraped against something.
The device.
“Tweezers.” Even he couldn’t make them into forceps. He used the blade to press open one side of the incision and eased the tweezers inside.