got more water and came back and said, “I won’t ask for coffee, but is there a chance of something hot?”
Gideon glanced at her and back to Temple, who gave a nod and stood. For a big man, Temple moved with the grace of someone who knew how to use his body. Really, really well. He went to the charred spot near Gideon’s bed, to a pile of splintered wood in front of those Voodoo dolls. Furniture broken apart it seemed, since she could recognize something that looked like a chair leg. Temple settled next to it and pulled out wooden matches. He had a fire snapping in minutes. It smoked, but heated the alabaster bowl and the water inside.
As she drank the warmed water, Gideon sat next to her. She glanced at him and asked, “How long have you been...?” she let the words trail, finished with a wave of her hand. She still couldn’t say it. This other world—this different reality.
He wet his lips. “Uh...”
“Complicated?” she asked, her mouth twitching.
His mouth didn’t lift, but the skin around his eyes crinkled again. He had long arms to match the long legs and long-fingered hands. He wrapped his arms around himself now. “It’s hard to judge. Calendars are different on this side, but I think…maybe—” He broke off, shrugged and his voice dropped to low and hollow, as if he knew to the day how long it had been but wouldn’t admit it. “Almost two years.”
She drank her water and thought he sounded as empty as the bowl in her hands. “Gideon, you have to...” He started to rise, so she caught his hand and made him stay. “If you don’t help me, I’ll go on my own. Or I’ll try to. You can’t keep me tied up everyday—well, maybe you can, but at some point, you’ll drop your guard and—”
“And you’ll die.”
“When did you stop trying?” she asked. She willed him to answer, but he shook his head and his mouth pulled down into a stubborn frown. Letting out a breath, she pressed her lips tight, thought about letting her frustration boil free. She had to find out what had happened to the others, even if it was her worst fears and those nightmares realized. “Please, Gideon. Take me back to where you found me. Maybe if I can piece enough together, I can get us all out of here. Please—help me?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I don’t know about quantum theory really. Alternate worlds…uhm, Carrie can…she understands that. But…statistics would seem to dictate that there’s more than just this reality, wouldn’t they? And…some of the other places should be better than our own—you’d think. But…we’re lucky. That’s all I do know. Everywhere else…well, destruction actually seems the truest expression of nature that I’ve seen. — Excerpt Interview with Gideon Chant
Gideon kept his stare on Carrie. They shouldn’t do this—this wasn’t smart. But he had a feeling she’d do what she’d said. She wouldn’t give up and he would drop his guard at some point. He’d be too tired, too battered after a fight—or if he got himself killed...damn, that was all too possible. So she had to know everything and she had to learn fast.
He glanced at Temple for agreement and saw the other man didn’t like this either. Images flashed into Gideon’s mind of how they could end as charred corpses. Or worse.
Gideon nodded. He agreed, but didn’t see another choice. He looked at Carrie again, took in the stubborn tilt to her jaw, the sharpness in her eyes. “You’ll have to do as I say, and we should do this now.”
Her mouth thinned, and for a moment he thought she’d argue something else. Setting down the bowl with a clatter, she rose. He put her between himself and Temple and she started to say something about that—at least her mouth opened, but he shot her a look. She stopped her words, so he’d bet she’d been about to say something about how she could look after herself. Which was probably true most places, but not here.
Once they reached the front doors, she hesitated—she
Gideon glanced at her and back to Temple, who gave a nod and stood. For a big man, Temple moved with the grace of someone who knew how to use his body. Really, really well. He went to the charred spot near Gideon’s bed, to a pile of splintered wood in front of those Voodoo dolls. Furniture broken apart it seemed, since she could recognize something that looked like a chair leg. Temple settled next to it and pulled out wooden matches. He had a fire snapping in minutes. It smoked, but heated the alabaster bowl and the water inside.
As she drank the warmed water, Gideon sat next to her. She glanced at him and asked, “How long have you been...?” she let the words trail, finished with a wave of her hand. She still couldn’t say it. This other world—this different reality.
He wet his lips. “Uh...”
“Complicated?” she asked, her mouth twitching.
His mouth didn’t lift, but the skin around his eyes crinkled again. He had long arms to match the long legs and long-fingered hands. He wrapped his arms around himself now. “It’s hard to judge. Calendars are different on this side, but I think…maybe—” He broke off, shrugged and his voice dropped to low and hollow, as if he knew to the day how long it had been but wouldn’t admit it. “Almost two years.”
She drank her water and thought he sounded as empty as the bowl in her hands. “Gideon, you have to...” He started to rise, so she caught his hand and made him stay. “If you don’t help me, I’ll go on my own. Or I’ll try to. You can’t keep me tied up everyday—well, maybe you can, but at some point, you’ll drop your guard and—”
“And you’ll die.”
“When did you stop trying?” she asked. She willed him to answer, but he shook his head and his mouth pulled down into a stubborn frown. Letting out a breath, she pressed her lips tight, thought about letting her frustration boil free. She had to find out what had happened to the others, even if it was her worst fears and those nightmares realized. “Please, Gideon. Take me back to where you found me. Maybe if I can piece enough together, I can get us all out of here. Please—help me?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I don’t know about quantum theory really. Alternate worlds…uhm, Carrie can…she understands that. But…statistics would seem to dictate that there’s more than just this reality, wouldn’t they? And…some of the other places should be better than our own—you’d think. But…we’re lucky. That’s all I do know. Everywhere else…well, destruction actually seems the truest expression of nature that I’ve seen. — Excerpt Interview with Gideon Chant
Gideon kept his stare on Carrie. They shouldn’t do this—this wasn’t smart. But he had a feeling she’d do what she’d said. She wouldn’t give up and he would drop his guard at some point. He’d be too tired, too battered after a fight—or if he got himself killed...damn, that was all too possible. So she had to know everything and she had to learn fast.
He glanced at Temple for agreement and saw the other man didn’t like this either. Images flashed into Gideon’s mind of how they could end as charred corpses. Or worse.
Gideon nodded. He agreed, but didn’t see another choice. He looked at Carrie again, took in the stubborn tilt to her jaw, the sharpness in her eyes. “You’ll have to do as I say, and we should do this now.”
Her mouth thinned, and for a moment he thought she’d argue something else. Setting down the bowl with a clatter, she rose. He put her between himself and Temple and she started to say something about that—at least her mouth opened, but he shot her a look. She stopped her words, so he’d bet she’d been about to say something about how she could look after herself. Which was probably true most places, but not here.
Once they reached the front doors, she hesitated—she
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