Read Online The Bureau of Time by Brett Michael Orr - Free Book Online
Authors: Brett Michael Orr
Tags: Time travel, parallel universe, super powers, dystopian world, parallel worlds, nuclear winter, genetic mutation
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CHAPTER SIX
THE DAYS
Shaun edged down the hallway, staring down the barrel of his carbine.
The hallway was shrouded in darkness, hiding the children’s toys left abandoned on the thick carpet. He flicked on the tactical light, painting the corridor white, revealing the blood stains on the wall. His throat closed over and his heart pounded furiously. He nudged aside an action hero with the toe of his combat boot – lying forgotten on the floor, the hero clutched a Bowie knife as though the little plastic weapon could ward off the evil lurking in the house.
There were two doors at the end of the hallway. One hung slightly off its hinge; beyond, an empty bathroom with a cracked mirror, a ribbon of crimson smeared across the glass. His palms were slick with sweat, forcing him to wipe each hand on his fatigues. He angled toward the second door, which was slightly ajar. His tactical light drifted over the doorknob, the silver glistening wetly. His stomach churned with fear and apprehension, his mind whirled: Please no, it can’t be possible, please God no—
He pressed the carbine’s stock into his shoulder, and with his spare hand, he pushed the door open. He entered the room, swinging the weapon around, the world turned into still-frames, frozen by the bright tactical light.
The walls – blue, now scarlet.
The bed – jagged slashes torn in the covers and mattress.
The body – a twelve-year-old boy, hanging by his belt from the ceiling fan, an Adjuster knife buried hilt-deep in his chest.
And worst of all – the eyes, open and glassy, staring straight into Shaun; the corpse’s mouth stretched in a silent scream: Why couldn’t you save me? Why did you let a Timewalker die?
He couldn’t answer. He collapsed to his knees, and the carpet was soft and wet beneath him – except it wasn’t carpet, it was more bodies, young children, older teenagers, and they were all screaming at him: Why are you the only Timewalker alive?
* * *
Shaun’s eyes flew open.
For a long moment, he lay staring at the ceiling, the nightmare fading back into the dark recesses of the night. Guilt writhed inside him, followed by a toxic mixture of despair, anger, and fear. He gripped the sheets, his fingers digging into the mattress, finding the well-worn grooves from the nightly terror.
For a brief moment, the usual hopelessness threatened to consume him, the ghostly scream of the twelve-year-old Hayden Miller echoing around his mind. You couldn’t save me. I was just a boy. I died and the Bureau couldn’t save me. You are the only living Timewalker.
And then, with a sudden rush, it came to him: I’m not alone.
Cassie Wright, the Shifter from Pennsylvania. She hadn’t been a dream – the pager shoved under his pillow was testament to their late-night conversation. She was real , and he was no longer alone.
The revelation took his breath away, and the guilt retreated, though only by degrees. Hayden Miller was the closest the Bureau had come to rescuing a Timewalker – and they had failed. Ever since that night six months ago, Shaun had prayed against all hope that they would finally manage to rescue a Timewalker – that, just once, they would find something other than another broken body.
A loud klaxon split the air, shocking him out of his thoughts.
The Bureau’s routine had become ingrained in Shaun so deeply that his body acted without conscious thought anymore. Lights snapped on in the dormitory where he bunked with the twenty other operators who were currently on rotation in Temporal Operations. Within five minutes he had made his bed, smoothed the sheets down, changed into his black-and-gray fatigues and neatly folded his other clothes in a perfect square.
Shaun’s bunk was directly opposite Ryan’s; Tallon had his own private quarters on the base, as did every Captain. Several fresh-faced recruits had been placed in the empty bunks on the far side of the dorm – they were
CHAPTER SIX
THE DAYS
Shaun edged down the hallway, staring down the barrel of his carbine.
The hallway was shrouded in darkness, hiding the children’s toys left abandoned on the thick carpet. He flicked on the tactical light, painting the corridor white, revealing the blood stains on the wall. His throat closed over and his heart pounded furiously. He nudged aside an action hero with the toe of his combat boot – lying forgotten on the floor, the hero clutched a Bowie knife as though the little plastic weapon could ward off the evil lurking in the house.
There were two doors at the end of the hallway. One hung slightly off its hinge; beyond, an empty bathroom with a cracked mirror, a ribbon of crimson smeared across the glass. His palms were slick with sweat, forcing him to wipe each hand on his fatigues. He angled toward the second door, which was slightly ajar. His tactical light drifted over the doorknob, the silver glistening wetly. His stomach churned with fear and apprehension, his mind whirled: Please no, it can’t be possible, please God no—
He pressed the carbine’s stock into his shoulder, and with his spare hand, he pushed the door open. He entered the room, swinging the weapon around, the world turned into still-frames, frozen by the bright tactical light.
The walls – blue, now scarlet.
The bed – jagged slashes torn in the covers and mattress.
The body – a twelve-year-old boy, hanging by his belt from the ceiling fan, an Adjuster knife buried hilt-deep in his chest.
And worst of all – the eyes, open and glassy, staring straight into Shaun; the corpse’s mouth stretched in a silent scream: Why couldn’t you save me? Why did you let a Timewalker die?
He couldn’t answer. He collapsed to his knees, and the carpet was soft and wet beneath him – except it wasn’t carpet, it was more bodies, young children, older teenagers, and they were all screaming at him: Why are you the only Timewalker alive?
* * *
Shaun’s eyes flew open.
For a long moment, he lay staring at the ceiling, the nightmare fading back into the dark recesses of the night. Guilt writhed inside him, followed by a toxic mixture of despair, anger, and fear. He gripped the sheets, his fingers digging into the mattress, finding the well-worn grooves from the nightly terror.
For a brief moment, the usual hopelessness threatened to consume him, the ghostly scream of the twelve-year-old Hayden Miller echoing around his mind. You couldn’t save me. I was just a boy. I died and the Bureau couldn’t save me. You are the only living Timewalker.
And then, with a sudden rush, it came to him: I’m not alone.
Cassie Wright, the Shifter from Pennsylvania. She hadn’t been a dream – the pager shoved under his pillow was testament to their late-night conversation. She was real , and he was no longer alone.
The revelation took his breath away, and the guilt retreated, though only by degrees. Hayden Miller was the closest the Bureau had come to rescuing a Timewalker – and they had failed. Ever since that night six months ago, Shaun had prayed against all hope that they would finally manage to rescue a Timewalker – that, just once, they would find something other than another broken body.
A loud klaxon split the air, shocking him out of his thoughts.
The Bureau’s routine had become ingrained in Shaun so deeply that his body acted without conscious thought anymore. Lights snapped on in the dormitory where he bunked with the twenty other operators who were currently on rotation in Temporal Operations. Within five minutes he had made his bed, smoothed the sheets down, changed into his black-and-gray fatigues and neatly folded his other clothes in a perfect square.
Shaun’s bunk was directly opposite Ryan’s; Tallon had his own private quarters on the base, as did every Captain. Several fresh-faced recruits had been placed in the empty bunks on the far side of the dorm – they were
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