Read Online City of Ruins by Mark London Williams - Free Book Online

room at the
Fairmont. It’s become part of the government’s collection now, like
my family and friends.
    It’s not even a place I can say goodbye to.
And if growing up is learning how to say goodbye to people and
places and things, how will I ever grow up if there’s no one around
to say goodbye to? How can I measure the growing-up part of my life
if Thirty and the others have taken all the measuring sticks?
    “This way. Now.” Mr. Howe is waving us
outside the door. I can see the scaffolding holding up the walls of
the hotel, all the unfinished wood, the bright lights. It’s like
being backstage, like the hotel room was just some kind of set.
    “Wait.” I stop. “You said we were going to
get Thea.”
    There’s a trench next to the platform where
the room has been reconstructed, with train tracks on the bottom.
The cold strips of metal seem to add to the feeling of dampness,
though you can barely see them in the dark. That doesn’t slow down
Mr. Howe, who’s climbing down toward them on a ladder. He pauses on
the rungs.
    “We haven’t forgotten your friend, Eli. But
Andrew Jackson Williams has helped me see, ” he said. “Helped
me understand how urgent the situation is.”
    “What situation?”
    “A man in a shirt like that” — A.J. points at
the House of David jerse, which I’d forgotten I was wearing—
“should know that all things eventually get revealed in time .”
    “Yes, which we don’t have a lot of.” Mr. Howe
continues climbing down to the bottom, but he also keeps talking.
“I’d always thought I was on the side of the good guys. Until I
realized that maybe the good guys have lost their way. Watch your
step. There still might be electricity coming through some of these
old BART tracks.”
    “Isn’t that too dangerous?” I ask.
    “We are living in a time, son,” A.J. says,
“when everything is dangerous. But let’s keep the odds in our favor
by being as careful as we can.”
    Mr. Howe pulls out a small flashlight and
appears to be looking for something along the wall, something
besides the old pipes and the dripping water. “Here.” It’s a door.
He hands the light to A.J., and pushes against a handle that
doesn’t budge.
    “It’s supposed to open right up! These were
emergency exits from the old BART tunnels, in case of quakes. We
need to use it for a short cut.”
    “A shortcut where? Why are you rescuing us
like this?”
    “We’re not rescuing you, son,” A.J. tells me
in a friendly way. “Good as it is to see you again. We have come
here to solve the time problem .”
    Wait a minute. “Isn’t that the name of
something you wrote a long time ago? A book? He told me about it!”
I point to Mr. Howe, who looks a little embarrassed.
    “There seemed to be a lot of firsthand
knowledge about the effects of time travel in there,” he says to
A.J. “We all wondered how you came across the information.”
    “I told you. I was a government employee for
a very long time,” A.J. says.
    “We never could find your records,” Mr. Howe
says.
    “No, I expect not.” And then A.J. turns to
me. “As near as I can tell about this future, nobody reads books
anymore, Son.”
    “I think Mr. Howe was all upset about
it.”
    There’s another bang! against the
door, and Mr. Howe starts rubbing his arm. “This thing won’t
budge.”
I can see his face, lined by the shadows from his tiny
light.
    “Mr. Howe has had an epiphany, son. That’s
why he’s here. He wants to make amends.”
    “What’s an epiphany?”
    “Ee-pih-phany!” Clyne says, sounding it out.
“Nice mammal sounds. Reminds me of words like mustard . And taco .”
    “An epiphany,” A.J. tells me, “is when you
suddenly realize many things, profound things, even, all at
once.”
    “We can’t just stay here.” Mr. Howe hits the
door again; it still doesn’t move. “Damn. Farther down the tunnel
then. Hurry.”
    “Wait. If you seek to open portals,” Clyne
says, “perhaps I can be snkkt useful.”