On Through the Never Read online

  ALSO BY MELISSA E. HURST

  The Edge of Forever

  Copyright © 2017 by Melissa E. Hurst

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

  Cover design by Rain Saukas

  Cover image credit iStockphoto

  Print ISBN: 978-1-5107-0761-0

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-5107-0762-7

  Printed in the United States of America

  For my girls.

  1

  BRIDGER

  FEBRUARY 10, 2147

  Purists glare at us as we walk single file to our latest assignment. When I first started training at the Academy four years ago, it bothered me that the people who deliberately reject genetic modifications are so hostile toward cadets. But these days, I’m hollow. On time trips, I constantly remind myself to keep moving, keep following orders.

  Especially today.

  My new team leader, Professor Dhara Kapoor, leads us through the crowded streets of downtown Austin, Texas. She’s tall, with black hair pulled back in a low ponytail. It’s been hard getting used to going on missions with her. Unlike my former professor, Telfair March, she puts up with no nonsense. Like now, we can barely keep up with her rapid pace. And we’re not allowed to talk to anyone—not even each other.

  Today’s mission is to record one of the many protests that took place just before the Second Civil War erupted. Austin didn’t sustain heavy damage during the war, unlike so many other major cities. And because of that, Austin is currently home to one of the largest Purist populations in the country. That leaves us with having to dodge one person after another to get to our departure coordinates. I wish we could have shifted from an area of preserved ruins, like Old Denver.

  Purists are the worst to be around on these time trips. They despise anyone with genetic modifications, especially Talents. Our black-and-gray uniforms clearly mark us as cadets at The Academy for Time Travel and Research.

  “You’re going straight to hell. Every single one of you!” a woman shouts as we pass by.

  I can’t help but roll my eyes. Behind me, my friend Zed snorts and whispers, “Having to visit this state is hell. Right, Bridger?”

  Before my life fell apart, I would have laughed at that. Texas—along with most of the southern states—is a Purist haven. Now I shake my head and keep walking. I have bigger things on my mind than Zed’s immaturity. One year ago today, my father went on a classified mission and didn’t come back alive.

  More than anything, I want to honor Dad’s legacy. That’s why I’m determined to join the military, like him. The Academy finally promoted me to Level 5 of my training last month. There are no more easy missions in relatively safe time periods. Now I get to explore times of unrest, like the Second Civil War. I have to excel at everything. I have to make the Department of Temporal Affairs believe I’m a good candidate for the military division, which I’ll be eligible to join at Level 6. That means keeping a clean record. That means no misbehaving on time trips. No mistakes.

  Professor Kapoor leads us to a narrow alley between two brick buildings. We pass two Nulls dressed in gray jumpsuits with shields covering their faces. Nulls are criminals that have had their minds completely wiped by Mind Redeemers. Now they’re nothing more than brainless servants for the government.

  The Nulls are removing garbage from a business’s trash compactor. I catch a whiff of the stench, but it’s not too bad. Nothing like what we’ll experience once we shift to 2076.

  “Backs against the wall,” the professor says once we reach the midpoint of the alley. She checks her DataLink and continues, “We have six minutes until departure. Please run through your final Chronoband diagnostics.”

  I hold my right arm up and activate the interface on the silver band encircling my wrist. It doesn’t take long to check the data. Everything was programmed by techs at the Academy. Next, I adjust the comm-set so it fits snugly against my head, making sure the ear and mouthpieces are firmly in place and the lenses over my eyes are synced to the black DataLink wrapped around my left wrist.

  Then I check the mission schematics on my DataLink one more time. We’re traveling to seven p.m. on November 2, 2076—just four months after President Kathleen Foster was assassinated by an ultra-conservative zealot. After Foster’s death, Alan Youngblood became the new president. He was the fool whose increasingly totalitarian tactics led the country into war.

  “Hey, you didn’t answer me earlier. Do you want to go out with me and Elijah tonight?” Zed whispers while I’m still checking the schematics. I ignore him. “Come on, Bridger, lighten up. You don’t have to be so serious all the time.”

  Professor Kapoor glares at Zed. “Silence, Ramirez, unless you want to clean trash with the Nulls.”

  Zed makes a face at her when she turns her back. “That woman seriously needs to get—”

  “Knock it off,” I hiss. Zed doesn’t have to finish his sentence. I know what he was going to say. Something crude, as usual.

  He fixes me with a confused expression and starts to say something, but instead rolls his eyes and looks away. I’m hit with a too-familiar feeling of guilt. I hate being like this. But I need to focus on my goal. I’m already a liability in the eyes of the DTA. Ten months ago, I completely wilded out after Dad and my girlfriend Vika died within a month of each other. It was so bad that the Department of Temporal Affairs had to step in. Can’t have an unstable Time Bender roaming around, right?

  I’m okay now, but I’ll have to work twice as hard as everyone else to be able to join the military. Zed doesn’t understand the kind of pressure I feel. He plans to become an artifact retrieval expert, like his parents.

  At least Elijah understands. He wants to join the military too. I really wish he was with us now, but when Elijah was promoted to Level 5, he was assigned to Professor Holland’s team. He’s made new friends and started spending more time with them. I’m not surprised.

  I’m still friends with Zed and Elijah. We hang out together sometimes, and we’re still roommates. It’s just, everything is different now. They were both promoted months before I was. And they got into a lot of trouble trying to cover for me when I wilded out last year. I don’t want to hurt them any more than I already have.

  What I wouldn’t give for things to go back to the way they used to be.

  “All right, cadets, it’s time. Initiate cloaking devices and prepare to engage your Chronobands,” Professor Kapoor says.

  I press the gold button on the collar of my uniform, which activates my cloak. The rest of the team does the same. I glance up in time to see an overweight Purist standing at the entrance to alley watching us. Sometimes Purists will do that, if they’re not hurling insults. At least they know not to interfere with our missions. That’s against the law.r />
  As we vanish, the Purist shakes his head, a look of disgust etched across his face. He might be able to see the ripples in the air that show where we’re standing, if he looks hard enough. We can still see each other through our comm-set lenses.

  The professor heads to the front of the line and joins us standing along the wall. She then says, “Does everyone have the date and time in their minds? Ready on my mark.”

  I visualize our destination date like a giant calendar. My fingers hover over the Chronoband’s activation button. My breathing is even. Calm. The feeling of being utterly alone, as if I’m the only person in existence, used to be the worst part of entering the Void. But that no longer bothers me. Not after all I’ve been through.

  “Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Go!”

  The all-consuming blackness engulfs me the instant my fingers hit the switch. I hold my breath and tell myself it won’t last forever. The unbearable sense of isolation will pass.

  I’m blinded for the moment after we emerge from the Void. After a few seconds, everything comes into focus. Colors sharpen. Sounds become clearer. I’m hit with the smell of rotting garbage coming from a dumpster that now sits near the end of the alley.

  Professor Kapoor marches past us, waving her hand. “Let’s go, cadets. We have exactly ten minutes to get into position. I do not want the other teams beating us this time.”

  Our team is one of four Level 5 groups at the Academy. We traveled together by hypersonic plane from New Denver, but separated once we reached downtown Austin. Each team has been assigned to a different area to record the protest.

  I glance back at Zed, but he just gives me a frosty stare. I almost apologize to him for being a jerk earlier. But maybe it’s better, right now, to keep to myself.

  We emerge from the alley to a view that’s very different from the one we left in 2147. It’s dark now, and streetlights provide the only illumination. Several storefronts have boarded-up windows. Graffiti is sprayed across them, almost all of it the same symbol: a Y, representing the totalitarian President Youngblood’s initial, is inside a circle, and it’s painted over with a giant X—the sign of the government’s opponents. I can’t help but admire the symbol. The Y and circle looks like a peace sign that’s been crossed out. And then I think about how stupid many people living in this time were—the ones who supported the government’s actions. They nearly destroyed the country through blind hatred and corruption.

  The streets are nearly deserted as we head to our assigned coordinates. Only a few soldiers dressed in fatigues and riot gear patrol our immediate area. That number greatly increases as we near our destination—the Texas State Capitol.

  Thousands of ghosts—people who lived in the past—have gathered on the grounds to protest the nationwide curfew that President Youngblood implemented a few weeks before this date. The curfew was an attempt to curtail widespread vandalism and looting in response to food rationing and massive shortages of the medicine needed to combat a new disease that was sweeping the nation. This was before genetic modifications were developed, so a lot of people died from the disease. Most everybody belonging to the opposing political parties thought President Youngblood was lying about the severity of the shortage and was hoarding food and medicine for his supporters. It turns out he wasn’t exactly lying, but he was giving more supplies to those loyal to him than to the rest of the country.

  We approach the capitol from the southern side. Already the grounds surrounding the massive building are packed with people. Chants fill the air, and large signs are held high, all denouncing Youngblood and his policies. It’s loud, but I know the current chaos is nothing compared to what’s about to happen.

  Professor Kapoor stops in a relatively clear area before we reach the protestors to give her final instructions. Several protestors are talking nearby, but they won’t hear what we say. Our cloaks mask any sounds we make.

  “It’s time to separate and report to your assigned positions. And of course, I’ll be around to observe each one of you,” Professor Kapoor says.

  Immediately, each cadet moves closer to his or her partner. I’m with Zed this time.

  “Remember, while you should strive to obtain the best footage possible, your safety is of utmost importance.” The professor and several cadets turn to look at me. They’re remembering Vika’s death last year, which happened while we were partnered on a time trip. I swallow past the lump in my throat and look away. The DTA cleared me of any wrongdoing, but I still feel responsible.

  After we’re dismissed, Zed and I head toward our assigned area on the outer right side of the Great Walk. I catch him leering at some girls, and I grind my teeth. Some things never change with him.

  Once we slip into the crowd, it’s impossible to avoid touching ghosts. Thousands of them are pressed together. The sour smell of sweat is overpowering. Breathing through my mouth helps, but mostly I suppress my revulsion; I’ve learned to ignore it.

  Zed’s voice comes through my earpiece. “There’s an Unknown approximately thirty-four feet ahead.”

  I scan ahead of us to locate the Unknown. The outline of a flashing white body appears on my lens. “Copy that,” I reply as I sweep the area surrounding us. “I don’t see any more right now. Let’s proceed.”

  Unknowns are Time Benders who aren’t using the same cloaking frequency as us. They could be from our past or our future. The team leaders already warned us to expect to see some today. In 2123, the DTA sent a military team here to record the worst of the violence, and to identify the specific individuals responsible.

  Zed and I, along with the other cadets, keep to the fringes of the crowd. We’re not supposed to venture too close to the capitol building. Most of the ghosts who will be injured will be in that area. During a previous mission, Time Benders discovered that several pro-Youngblood soldiers “accidentally” mixed a nasty, paralytic gas with the standard Devil’s Breath, a form of tear gas that also smells worse than a skunk. A lot of people had adverse reactions to the paralytic gas and died. Our orders are to clear out before things turn ugly, which means we have exactly thirty-three minutes to work. Professor Kapoor observes Zed and me for eight minutes before moving on to the next pair of cadets.

  After she leaves, Zed and I split up to record more footage. We’re careful to stay within sight of each other. As I roam through the crowd in our assigned area, I find myself feeling sorry for some of these ghosts. The ones who are too thin from malnourishment. The ones who are too weak to stand, and are simply sitting in quiet protest. I’m also shocked at how many are here with their children. The kids’ fearful faces peer out from behind their parents’ legs as they cling to them. I can’t help but wonder if any of the kids I’m recording now will be among the nine hundred and seventy-seven casualties.

  My DataLink chimes. I’ve been so engrossed with recording that I didn’t realize how much time had passed. We have five minutes to leave. “Ready to go?” I ask Zed through my mouthpiece.

  “That would be a definitive yes. I’m starting to get nervous,” he replies.

  I do a quick final sweep. The tension of the crowd has been intensifying steadily, and in the past few minutes it’s started to boil over. People are taunting the military and police officers. I see one officer pointing his weapon at a civilian.

  Idiots, all of them.

  I start to follow Zed as he heads back to where we’re supposed to meet Professor Kapoor, but I spot a flash of white to my right. An Unknown is standing near the Confederate Soldiers Monument. I wonder what’s going on over there.

  A ghost with strawberry blond hair climbs up on the monument. The Unknown appears to be focused on her. I find myself transfixed. She screams something, then reaches into her coat pocket. She takes out a small object and lifts her arm as if she’s going to throw it.

  A loud shot fires, and I watch in horror as a small circle appears in the woman’s forehead and a trickle of blood seeps out. She falls into the crowd.

  Times slows to a crawl, an
d I can’t breathe. I get this sudden image of Vika in my mind. A similar wound piercing her forehead. Her body lying in a pool of blood on grass. I shake my head. That’s not right. That’s not how Vika died. She was trampled by ghosts at the Foster Assassination.

  Then I’m jolted back by screams all around me. I’m shoved hard. More gunshots are fired.

  I can barely make out Zed yelling, “Bridger! Where are you?”

  I can’t respond. It seems like time has slowed as I push through the frantic crowd. I’ve got to get out of here, now. The officers have already fired their guns, and I know what’s next: protestors will produce weapons of their own, and the military will quickly resort to gassing everyone.

  “Ramirez and Creed, what is going on?” Professor Kapoor’s voice blasts through my earpiece.

  “Nothing,” I manage to reply while trying to get my breathing under control. “I’m almost out.”

  It’s a relief when I burst out of the crowd. My legs feel as if they could give out at any moment, but I force myself to keep going. Behind me, the shouts and screams intensify. I don’t look back. I can’t let anyone see evidence of weakness. I need to be strong.

  When I catch up to Zed, he waits just long enough for me to disengage my comm-set before getting in my face. “What the hell happened back there?”

  I take a step back and shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Right. You look like a ghost, yourself. Something got to you.”

  By that time, we’ve reached Professor Kapoor and the others waiting at our rendezvous point by a large tree. Her arms are crossed and she looks pissed. “I’m so happy you two finally showed up,” she says in a sarcastic voice.

  Turning to the rest of the group, she barks, “Head out, cadets. Single file. And try to keep up.” She gives me a pointed stare before setting off, and says, “I’ll deal with you later.”

  Twenty minutes later, we’re back in 2147.

  Everyone’s quiet as we follow Professor Kapoor back to the Academy’s hypersonic plane. I tell myself I’m okay. That I did a good job. But I can’t get that image of Vika out of my head. Why did I see something that never happened? It doesn’t make sense.