Chapter 5: The Good Doctor
Marcus held out his hand, and against her better judgment, Maggie took it. He led her to the shattered boulder with Karl trailing behind. Walking to the opposite side of it, he let go of her hand and knelt in the grass. His hand disappeared under a steering wheel-sized rock, and she heard high-pitched tones, like the dials of a cell phone.
A square of sod to the left of where they stood caved in several inches then slid out of view. Beneath it Maggie glimpsed a granite staircase leading into the depths of the mountain.
A slender figure emerged from the hole, rising by quantum degrees from the earth.
Despite the gray light of…whatever time of day this was, Maggie could tell the woman was Caucasian with dark hair. She looked steadily at Marcus with hooded eyes.
“What time is it?” The woman’s voice was steady and resonating.
“It is late,” Marcus answered.
“Too late?”
“It is never too late.”
The woman’s face softened into a smile. She held out her hand, which Marcus took, smiling.
“Lila. Everything quiet tonight?”
“Yup, how about you? Mission uneventful?”
“Not exactly.”
The woman called Lila looked alarmed. “What do you mean?”
Marcus waved her off. “Not to worry. Everyone’s fine.” He turned and pulled Maggie up to stand beside him.
“Maggie.” Lila stepped toward her, and for a moment, Maggie thought the young woman would hug her.
Marcus grabbed Lila’s arm. “Lila,” he said quietly.
Lila froze, her smile fading. She looked down at the ground. “Sorry,” she said, matching Marcus’s quiet tone. “I forgot.”
Marcus gave her an understanding look. “So did I.”
Their eyes met. Lila looked back to include Karl in the unspoken understanding.
“Maggie,” Lila finally said, “I’m so glad to see you. I know you don’t know us, so you’ll have to excuse us if we seem a little too…acquainted with you. I’m Lila. I know we’ll be great friends.”
Maggie didn’t know how to answer. She hadn’t stepped back when Lila moved to hug her, but she’d wanted to. Not that Lila was physically intimidating—she was no larger than Maggie was—but after running for her life, Maggie’s nerves were frazzled. Yet Lila seemed friendly, and Maggie didn’t want to be rude.
“How do you know that we’ll be friends?” She kept any malice out of her voice.
It was Karl’s deep, rumbling voice that answered. “Because we all were before.”
“Come.” Marcus took Maggie’s hand and pulled her into the mountain.
Lila led the way down the stone staircase. Karl entered last, doing something Maggie couldn’t see to shut the entrance behind them.
“Going to reintroduce her to everyone, then?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Marcus answered. “She needs to see Doc first.”
“Not hurt, are you Maggie?” There was concern in Karl’s voice.
“We’re both fine,” Marcus chimed in for her. “It’s just a precaution. Anyway, he’s the best one to explain things to her.”
“I suppose you’re right.” It was dark, and Karl’s voice came from high above her. “I’ll see you later then, Maggie.”
She felt like he wanted her to answer. “Al-all right.”
She and Marcus passed Lila, who waited at the base of the staircase. She flashed Maggie an encouraging smile, but Maggie couldn’t return it. Marcus was pulling her by the hand into the darkness.
Disturbed as she was by her surroundings, she was more disturbed by the fact that the familiar pressure of Marcus’s hand closing over hers was somewhat comforting.
The staircase had been shallow, leading down for only eight or ten feet. They reached a smooth landing, which turned into a ramp that sloped slowly but steadily upward. They were heading into the higher elevations of the mountain.
The underground bunker was laid out simply. The corridor they were in seemed to act as a central traffic lane. It was large—enough for three or four people abreast—and other rooms and hallways led off from it. There was no way to tell where the other passages led or how large the entire structure was, but Maggie peered into rooms as they passed.
She expected to find something akin to the bridge of the Enterprise, but it was nothing like that. The corridor was dank, musty, and humid like a cave, though she couldn’t perceive any moisture. The lighting was terrible. She could see, but it was like dusk when it’s too early to turn on lights but just dark enough that it’s difficult to see.
In the rooms was equipment she couldn’t identify that she was certain hadn’t been invented yet. Rather than the colorful, flashing lights she expected to see on an otherworldly craft, the strange equipment gleamed dully in the dim light like cast iron. Not pretty, not colorful, but imposing.
After walking uphill for an eternity, her calves burning the slow rot of hot coals, Marcus stopped in front of a doorway. There was neither a door nor partition of any kind over it, just as there hadn’t been over any of the others. Marcus tightened his grip on her hand and towed her behind him through the doorway.
To Maggie’s astonishment, the room was ablaze with light. It wasn’t a censored light that came on when they entered the room. The lights were already on when she came in.
Twisting around to look behind her, Maggie found exactly what she thought she would: an unprotected doorway separating this room from the dark corridor. The illumination from this room could not be seen in the corridor. There should have been a doorway-shaped bar of light falling on the opposite wall. There wasn’t.
All these contradictions were giving her a headache.
She looked at Marcus and found him smiling down at her. “She’s really forgotten everything, Doc.”
A man about Marcus’s height but much older with white, shoulder-length hair and a well-groomed salt-and-pepper beard was sitting on a chair behind a desk.
“Did you expect anything less, Marcus?”
Marcus shook his head. “I suppose not. I just didn’t realize how far reaching it would be.”
The older man nodded then got up and came around the desk, extending his hand. “I’m Johann Carver, Maggie, but everyone calls me Doc. I’d appreciate it if you’d do the same. Welcome to Interchroniter.” His clothes were similar to Marcus’s—earthy tones and plainly cut—and around his neck he wore a delicate chain. A pendant with a whirl on it lay in the small of his throat.
Maggie took his hand uncertainly. Both her surroundings and these people were completely alien to her. She’d been attacked in her home, witnessed a man’s death, then been chased through the mountains by what could only be described as homicidal psychopaths. And here these men were, shaking hands as though attending a business meeting.
Yet they were so calm, genuine, even friendly, that she would have felt strange to refuse.
“Inter-what-iter?”
“Interchroniter. It’s the name of this mountain compound we inhabit. You’ll hear abbreviated forms of it like Chron or Interchron, but I try to reiterate the full name whenever I can.”
Doc’s smile was kind, his eyes understanding.
“I know this has been a difficult day for you, Maggie. I can only imagine what you must think. Please, take a seat, and we’ll do our best to answer your questions.”
Doc motioned her to a chair beside the desk. He sat in one opposite her. Marcus remained standing by the door.
The room wasn’t large, no larger than the master bedroom of Maggie’s house, but the white lights made it seem bigger. Long tubes the circumference of baseball bats coiled around the room near the ceiling and emanated the light. They were unlike any light source Maggie had ever seen before.
A twin-sized cot sat in the corner, and the rest of the room, other than the desk, was lined with more dull, unfamiliar equipment.
Her eyes swept around the room and came back to rest on Doc. She found him
studying her intently.
“Well,” he said, repositioning in his chair. “Where to begin?”
“Actually, Doc,” Marcus spoke up, “why don’t we start with what she…remembers?”
“I just told you, Marcus, she won’t remember anything.”
“But she does,” Marcus’s voice was quiet. “She remembers me.”
Doc looked at Maggie, raising an eyebrow. “Do you?”
Maggie was unsure how to answer. She had no idea who Marcus was, after all. She remembered him from Vegas, but what did that really amount to? “No.”
Doc gave Marcus an annoyed look, and Marcus raised his hands defensively. “She doesn’t know who I am, Doc, but she remembers seeing me in Vegas.” He said the word “seeing” as though it tasted funny.
Doc looked at Maggie again.
She nodded, and the older man sat back in his chair, looking poleaxed.
“Doc”—Marcus’s voice was still hushed—“how is that possible?”
Doc didn’t look at Marcus. He was studying Maggie in a calculating way. “I have no idea.”