A new link appears in the list. I scan it, the words not really sinking in until I click the story open. Only then do I realize what I’m reading.
An obituary.
For Cascade.
My breath catches, my heart heaves, my stomach sinks to my toes. I blink furiously, trying to clear my eyes. I need rewetting drops for my cybernetics, because they’re playing tricks on me.
There’s a snap of two girls—Cas and Saige, with Cas’s hair shorter than her sister’s. Saige smiles tentatively, like she’s afraid the flash will sting her retinas. Cascade wears a half-scowl on her face, the snap obviously not done by a professional.
A snap of a teenage boy hovers below Cascade, and a woman—Shawna Phillips—rides underneath Saige.
The headline reads: Holiday Tragedy Claims Lives of Phillips Family
I know before I read the article that it was no accident. They were murdered.
I close my eyes, but the black and white print is still there, ingrained in my memory, screaming about Cascade’s demise sixty years in the past. I see her stormy eyes, her strong will. She can’t be dead. No way. Can’t happen.
I read the article three times before I absorb all the details. The police ruled it an accident, a tragedy from faulty wiring in the numerous strings of Christmas lights Shep had strung throughout the house.
Everyone was asleep and inside the house when the fire started. There was no escape.
Except that I know there was—there had to be. I know how easy it is to get out my window, and I know Cas can scale a rain gutter in five seconds flat. I also know Cascade doesn’t sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time. If she slept through a raging house fire, it’s because she was drugged.
I check the date of the article, though I don’t know what I’m going to do about it. There is no rift here in our downtown apartment. The one at my house in the suburbs doesn’t allow for human travel yet—or at least it didn’t… Could the rift be operational in this timeline? Or did the explosion obliterate it across all timelines?
I don’t know, and the two people who can help are both gone.
There’s another rift where the Time Bureau should be, but I don’t know how to control it.
December 17, 2013 is the day she dies. Two weeks from now will be the 60th anniversary of her death.
If I could somehow find a rift and use a miracle to get through it, I could travel to the past and warn her. Tell her brother not to put up those lights. Tell Cas not to eat or drink anything that night. To find somewhere else to sleep. Anything to keep her out of the house on the night of December seventeenth.
My pulse increases as I think of seeing her, talking to her. Maybe she’d come with me, back through the rift, back here. Maybe that’s how I can keep her safe.
I force my thoughts to settle. Going wild in my fantasies won’t help Cascade. I read the article again, this time noticing that the house has been put up for auction since the Phillips family has no remaining family.
And there it is. The motive for whoever killed them. They wanted the house.
Suddenly, my stomach cramps and I feel like I’m being torn inside out.
My dad.
My dad went through the rift to an unknown destination.
My dad would do anything to get that house back.
My dad is unaccounted for at the present moment.
Would my dad commit murder? And not just one, but four.
Swallowing back the nausea, I quickly navigate back to my search window and pull up the city records. I type in my old address to see the succession of ownership.
In February 2014, two months after the Phillips family dies, an auction is held for their property. I click open the record, numb with fear that I’ll see my father’s name.
I see a Ryerson, but it’s not my dad. It’s my great-grandpa, Harlem. My breath whooshes out of my mouth. Not that I want my family to be responsible for Cascade’s death, but at least it wasn’t my dad.
Orville Openshaw is also on the bidding list. He and Harlem exchange bids until finally, Orville wins the auction by over two hundred thousand dollars.
“Who is this Orville guy?” I need to find out more about him, who he was, why he’s suddenly appeared in my reality when I’ve never seen his name tied to time travel, or time rifts, before.
A search of Orville Openshaw brings up hundreds of stories. The guy is a rich philanthropist, throwing his money into all kinds of causes and investments. There’s no mention of time travel or time rifts anywhere.
I don’t care about his business successes, or property accumulation, or anything. I care how he connects to me. I care how his sudden appearance has ejected me from the life I knew, the life I loved.
An hour later, I still can’t find a connection. Orville seems to exist completely outside the Ryerson sphere.
I expand my search to include images, and practically scramble away from the images on my cybernetics when I see his face. His square-jawed, dark-haired, blue-eyed face. He looks almost exactly like my great-grandfather. I see pieces of myself in this Orville Openshaw, the way I would in an uncle if I had one.
I scan the newspaper feature that shows a young Orville and Harlem standing next to each other at some sort of black-tie event.
“College buddies,” I say. “Holy hella.”
They were both super-geeks and into hard-core science. Their paths split a couple of months after the snap was published, when Orville left the school to finish his degree back east.
Harlem accused Orville of taking his research when he left. He couldn’t prove it though, and it was his word against Orville’s. Their professional rivalry began then, and continued throughout the years. They each bid on the Phillips’ house. They each opened research firms: Harlem founded Hyperion Labs, and Orville opened The Global Initiative—where my dad works now. And Hyperion Labs? Doesn’t exist anymore, as Orville bought it out the year after my dad was born.
I sag back into the couch, blinking to shut down my cybernetics. I can’t take in any more tonight.
One thing’s for certain, in this reality I’m currently living, Orville won.
Cascade
THE RIDE BACK TO THE HOUSE is just as quiet as the one to Mom’s lab. We’d left Dad with a tight hug, though mine had ended sooner than Saige’s. I’ve found other things to fill my life with, and I realize that Saige has been hanging onto the past harder than I have.
I text Cedar when we turn into our suburb intending to ask him to come over. I lead with an apology, though I’m not really sorry for being passionate about the life I used to have. Trader had told me to be honest with Cedar, and I was. Do I have to apologize for that too?
I end with Will you come over? I have a lot to tell you.
He responds within seconds. On my way.
Relief sings through me. I can always count on Cedar.
“What are you smiling about?”
“My friend Cedar is coming over.” Bring lunch, I text him. Saige is here too.
Must be serious if Saige is involved.
I’ll tell you when you get here.
Did you go through a rift?
No. I don’t have a death wish.
He doesn’t answer, which means he thinks I do have a death wish. Just because I want to walk through one more rift, one more time, doesn’t make me stupid, or irresponsible, or ready to die.
Saige pulls into the garage and kills the engine. “What are we going to do?”
“Cedar’s bringing lunch, and we’re going to discuss this Orville guy. If he’s Harlem Ryerson in another dimension, he’s dangerous here.” Fear mixes with frustration and colors my tone. “I can’t believe Dad thought it was a good idea for him to come here.”
“Maybe they’re desperate.”
“Mom and Dad?”
“She has no funding, right? Maybe this is their last resort.”
“Maybe.” But Saige’s reasoning is solid. I already know Mom will do almost anything to keep her research
going. Bringing a financier from another dimension doesn’t sound so far off from what I know about her.
“Why does Dad care?” I muse. “He doesn’t live here. He must have some way to support himself in the other verse…”
“Maybe he works for Orville. Maybe he…” She exhales heavily. “I don’t have any idea what he might do for Orville.” She looks at me with hope in her eyes, and my thoughts go wild.
“Maybe he’s researching the same stuff Mom is. Maybe they’re helping each other on both sides of the rift. Dad was a physicist too.”
“What are we going to do? What are you going to talk about with Cedar?”
I feel uneasy inside, because I’m not quite sure how to answer her. My goal has always been to get back to the future, back to Price. But with the reappearance of my dad, I now want to save him from that dimension where he’s trapped. I need to ask Cedar if maybe Trader can develop something for my dad, maybe even just test him to see what the damage is and if it can be reversed.
Desperation pushes up my throat, forcing me to swallow it back, hard. “Should we try to bring Dad home?” I ask Saige.
“Do you think we can?” Her face holds as much hope as her voice.
“I don’t know.” Exhaustion settles into my muscles, weighing me down in the passenger seat of my sister’s car. I don’t know why I thought everything would work out easily, especially after I learned I’d lost six months of my life and the rift had exploded. But now I don’t know what my goal should be: Dad or Price?
Do I dare to think I can have both?
If Dad’s living in an alternate dimension very similar to ours, maybe he has a house. A job. A good life.
Maybe Price and I can step through the metallic energy and join my dad in his dimension.
I don’t dare vocalize my musings, because I don’t think Saige will appreciate the ideas. Thankfully, I’m saved by the roar of Cedar’s truck as he pulls into the driveway.
He gets out of the cab with a box of pizza, and I say, “He’s here.” I meet him at the mouth of the garage with a smile. I stretch up on my toes to give him a peck on the cheek.
“Sorry, Cedar. I really am.” I watch him carefully, hoping everything I need to apologize for is communicated in those five words.
He shrugs one shoulder. “I know you are, Cas. Come on, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He moves toward the steps that lead to the kitchen, where Saige waits.
“Hi, Saige,” he says. “I’m your sister’s friend, Cedar Bowman.”
She smiles at him and welcomes him to our house, as if he’s never been here before. Saige is more like Mom than she knows, but I’ll never tell her that. As Cedar pulls plates from the cupboard, Saige elbows me.
“He’s like, twenty-five years old.”
“Twenty-three,” I say.
“How do you know him?”
“We were friends before I left.”
“He’s way older than you.”
I can’t quite understand what she’s saying. “So?”
“So you trust him?”
“With my life.” I try to see Cedar the way Saige obviously is. So he’s five years older than me. Big deal.
“You don’t think it’s weird an eighteen-year-old was hanging out with a thirteen-year-old?”
“He was Mom’s lab assistant. That’s where I met him. He quit a month or so before I took my friend through the rift. It wasn’t weird.”
Cedar settles at the bar. “Are you guys done talking about me like I’m not here?”
Saige blushes, but I just grab a piece of pizza and sit next to Cedar. “So we met my dad this morning.”
He chokes and grabs his napkin. With wide eyes, he says, “Come again?”
“My dad stepped through this freaky, silver, mirror rift-thing. He’s been living in another universe. A universe connected to ours through the time rift.”
Cedar stares at me like I’ve sprouted horns or have just told him that I’ve had an alien encounter.
I swallow a bite of pizza as a horrifying thought parades through my mind. “Cedar, do you think the rift in my basement connects to other verses?”
Saige whimpers and reaches for her glass of water.
“How would we even know that?” Cedar asks. “It’s never been silver.”
“And the rift at Mom’s lab was there all the time,” Saige adds. “It didn’t have to be opened and closed.”
“Maybe Dad just had it open while he waited for Orville.” I can’t imagine the energy required to keep a rift open permanently. It doesn’t seem possible, and as Cedar scribbles something on his napkin, I know his mind’s going down the same scientific path.
“I don’t think a rift can be permanently open.” Cedar picks up his pizza slice again. “And if we don’t open the portal, no one can come through.”
I nod, but that sliver of fear still lives in my gut, making the few bites of food I’ve eaten feel like cement.
“So you didn’t go through the rift?” Cedar asks.
“No,” I confirm. “But I was wondering if Trader could do some tests on my dad. See if he has any…you know…” I don’t want to tell Saige I’m not well. She might throw a homemade bomb in the rift tonight if I do.
“How would he do that? Could your dad come to his office?”
I lean my head in my hands, wishing I could take a nap. I’ve never been so tired, and I’ve been sleeping more than I ever have. “I don’t know. I don’t know how long he’s planning to stay today. Maybe Trader could go to him? Take some blood or something?”
“I’ll call him. Your dad’s at your mom’s lab?”
“Yeah.”
“Who’s Trader?” Saige asks as Cedar steps into the foyer to make the call.
I lift my head to look at my sister. “Cedar’s brother. He’s an oncologist.”
“You think Dad has cancer?”
“No, no.” I shake my head. “Trader has developed some…” I clear my throat. “Tests. He’s developed some tests to see how the rift affects people. I just want to make sure Dad’s okay.”
Saige stares at me with narrowed eyes. “Does he do tests on you?”
“Yes.” I avoid her menacing gaze, hoping she’ll drop this. I should know better.
“Do you have cancer?”
“Of course not.”
She leans away from the counter, her fury practically coloring the whites of her eyes red. “I know there’s something going on,” she says. “You’re taking calcium and iron supplements. I can look things up on the Internet as well as anyone.”
I lay my head in my hands again. “Fine, Saige. My cells degenerate faster than they should. My muscles are weaker than they were eight months ago, thus the iron supplements. And my bone density is as low as a seventy-year-old woman with osteoporosis. Thus the calcium. Okay?”
“No!” Saige explodes to standing. “It is not okay, Chloe. Is this from walking through the rift?”
“Trader thinks so, yes.”
“We are so getting rid of that thing,” she vows. “Does Mom know?”
“I don’t know.”
“You haven’t told her?”
“When would I have told her? I found out yesterday.”
She’s shaking her head so hard, I worry she’ll give herself a stroke. “Stop lying to me. If you know your muscles are weaker now than eight months ago, you’ve known since then.”
“Yes, I’ve known for about the cell degeneration for almost a year. But I wasn’t exactly communicating with Mom.” I was with Guy Ryerson though, and I didn’t tell him either.
“This has to stop. Someone is going to get hurt. Again.”
“Dad didn’t exactly die,” I say just because it’s true. “He seemed fine. Happy, even.”
“Well, I’m not happy!”
Me either, I think but don’t say. I don’t know how to make things right for Saige. That was always my job. Entertain Saige. Take Saige with me to the mall, introduce her to my friends, include her.
> I never minded. I still don’t. I simply feel like I can barely take care of myself right now, and I certainly can’t add her to my list of worries.
“He’s on his way there now,” Cedar says. “Do you want to meet him there?”
I glance at Saige. Do we want to meet Trader so we can watch him test our Dad?
“Yeah,” I say as I stand up. “Let’s go. But then we need to track down as much info as we can on Harlem Ryerson. He deserves to know his alter-ego has invaded this dimension.”
The blood collection takes less than ten minutes, and the awkward silence while Trader went about his work certainly doesn’t alleviate the tension banding along the back of my neck.
Trader puts the last vial in a case and zips it closed. “This will take a few days.” He glances toward me and Cedar. We’ve clustered near the door, giving him the table and space he needed to work.
“I’ll let Cascade know the results, and she can communicate them to you?”
I nod, because it’ll require too much energy to actually speak. Saige clutches Dad into another tight hug and whispers something to him. I have more questions for him, but I don’t want to ask them in front of Cedar, or Saige. I’ll try to come alone with the test results in a few days.
“Now where?” Saige asks once we’re all back in Cedar’s truck. I watch Trader drive off in his luxury car, my thoughts tumbling over themselves.
“Cascade?”
“Hmm?” I glance at Cedar.
He smiles, a gesture filled with affection and peace and safety. “Your sister wants to know where we’re going next.”
I take a cleansing breath. “I think we should track down Harlem Ryerson.”
Cedar looks to Saige for confirmation, and annoyance amps through me. She knows less than I do about dimensional travel.
“Sure,” she says when she realizes he’s waiting for her vote.
“I’ll see if I can find him.” He swipes on his phone and starts tapping and typing, typing and tapping. A few minutes later, he hands the device to me. “He owns his own investment firm. It’s about ten minutes away.”