The Red-Winged Blackbird (Ch33)

Conlin sees a way out, but their enemies are closing in...

Previous Chapter | First Chapter of Theda’s Time Machine

Damnit, they’re taking too long. Conlin’s body felt like a bundle of snakes ready to strike. His eyes stung from fatigue and stared unblinkingly at the door of the Arcade that had just swung shut behind Jackson and Miss Evora, swallowing them like ol’ Jonah. An ugly feeling was taking root in the pit of his stomach, and it had nothing to do with lack of food or the exhaustion burrowing deeper into his being with each breath. Every second they spent in Army City heightened their chances of being captured, and if it was one thing that Dr. Andersen had drilled into him, it was not to get sent to jail. You were foolish enough to get locked up, the window of time to get back home began to shut, and you could be lost forever.

He would’ve been burning down that empty highway if he had his way, but Miss Evora had the gift of persuasion and Conlin was beginning to sense that Jackson was taking a liking to her. Great. No man is ever in his right mind when he wants a woman. Conlin agreed to drive them to the second worst place in Fort Riley: Army City. The first worst place was the General Building, and as soon as those crooked doctors found out their forced “patients” were no longer in their sick-ward prison, they were going to release the hounds.

What’s the matter with those two? Pussy-footing around in there like afternoon tea at the Ritz. If Dr. Andersen were sitting shotgun now, he would calmly weave together sentences that caused Conlin’s fear to evaporate into black steam until his mind was clear like glacial water. He imagined the doctor’s commanding but soft tone, urging him to treat panic as an enemy and invite clarity in as a friend. Conlin closed his eyes. Now there was a dash of salt in the memory of Andersen. It was that voice that got him into this hopeless mess to begin with and up and left him alone to clean it up.

What did it matter now anyway? He was here and whining was for children. He fought the looming exhaustion by tapping his foot and fingers to the same beat, but his eyes were leaded doors, like the Sandman paid him a double visit, as his granny used to say.

He slapped himself lightly on the cheek. Swimming just under the surface of thought, where it had floated since he first saw it, was the tattoo on that ugly Cyril. That was New York, for sure…but the date? What did it mean?He concentrated on the double doors across the street until the edges of his vision became cloudy and dark, as if the snow clouds that had descended to street level…

…and before he could snap out of it, he slipped into time.

He was in New York. There was a primitive part of himself that responded to his birth city, an invisible tether that bound him to Gotham that was as inexplicable as his ability to see into time. The vision cleared, and what filtered into his mind’s eye wasn’t the city he knew in the late 1940s. The buildings were enormous, rivaling the Empire State Building, and clustered together until they formed the walls of great cavern where light was strangely absent. Streetlights, store lights, window lights were all extinguished. Only beams of headlights from small cars lit the streets in elongated cones. People jammed onto the sidewalks and spilled over into the streets. Snippets of conversation came to him in echoing sentences. Reminds you of nine-eleven, doesn’t it? Just like nine-eleven…Everyone trying to get out of the city, just like nine-eleven…the nine-eleven of two-thousand-and-three…

Conlin sat up and smashed his hat against the roof of the Wasp. He pressed his gloved fingers against his temples where his beating heart had leapt.

Andersen’s words echoed in another chamber of his mind. Andersen and Thrax had been in New York in the future and seen Miss Evora there. A few years after the Millenium. And wouldn’t the year 2003 fit that description? That Cyril was from the same time. It was tattooed on the bastard’s chest.

Conlin splayed his ten fingers into the air in front of his face, the thoughts now coming from that great reserve of intelligence whose mystery had confounded mankind since the beginning.

“Why the hell we here?” he wheezed out loud. Running through this army base, not even knowing what the man they sought looked like, when all they had to do was go to New York in 2003. Find Andersen. If they found him, they’d eliminate Thrax then and there. The mission wasn’t to change history. It wasn’t to stop the flu. It was to find and kill Thrax before he caused any more harm to the world. The right and honorable action to take in the face of a murderous madman. That’s how Andersen had framed it, and that’s what Conlin agreed to do.

Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? It didn’t matter. Jackson and Miss Evora would trot out of that Arcade in a matter of minutes and as soon as they sat their cans down in the Wasp’s interior, his foot would stomp the gas pedal until Army City was dust and Kansas faded like an underdeveloped photograph. He would fulfill his promise to the doctor, and if anyone tried to stop him, they’d find out the hard way that he was one of the best shots in the Army.

Tap! Tap!

He yelped, pinching a nerve in his neck as his head whipped to the left. The cold eyes of Sargent Hank Peterson appeared behind the butt of a handgun that slid down the window, the metal meeting the glass in an inaudible screech as loud as a lion’s roar in Conlin’s mind. His heart sank. He glanced quickly at the double doors that were hideously empty of his companions. He rolled down the window slowly, each crank like a bell toll.

“Hey, boy,” Peterson drawled as the glass seeped into the door, his tone, void of any human warmth, caused the hair on the nape of Conlin’s neck to prickle. “I’ve been seeing you driving this fancy car all over town. Step outside for a second. Let’s talk.”

---

“There’s my sister,” Theda said quietly and gently pressed into Jackson’s side. He allowed himself to be steered toward a tobacco stand, across the room from where Violet had entered with Billy. Jackson pointed at a pack of cigarettes in the display case and said quietly, “What do you want to do?”

“Talk to her. Get her out of here.”

He patted her hand that was threaded through his arm. “Not with Rankin there, you’re not,” he said pleasantly.

“May I help you?” A whiff of cherry tobacco preceeded a burly clerk with a handlebar mustache.

She smiled up at him. “Yes, you may! Dear, why don’t you ask about those English cigarettes you’ve been looking for? I’ll see to the jewelry.” She released his arm even as he was tightening it to keep it there.

“Don’t leave,” he said through his smile.

“You take your time,” she said sweetly, patting his shoulder. She wove through the crowd and drifted into a group of women admiring expensive ink pens and paper. Billy and Violet were ten feet to her right, hovering over an array of gold rings inside the glass display case. Oh please. Please say they’re not here looking at engagement rings.

“Billy,” Violet pleaded. “It’s too much money. Really. I don’t want you spending that on me.”

“It’s fine, peach. I came into a few dollars in the last few days and there’s no one on earth I’d rather spend it on!”

I’ll bet you did. How much were you paid to knock Jackson off his motorcycle?

“But, really, I wish you wouldn’t!”

Theda snuck a glance sideways, Violet’s chipper voice taking on a sing-song tone she had heard before; a forced politeness that fronted the end game: rejection. Good.

A sharp-eyed jewelry clerk, noticing Violet’s expensive coat, cut off another couple he was waiting on in mid-sentence and sidestepped in front of Billy, who said “I’d like to buy my girl here a ring. Not the ring, sir, but one that’ll look pretty on her hand while I’m away.”

Theda exhaled in relief. The thought of any piece of jewelry from that skunk touching her sister was a disgrace. The clerk pulled a tray of rings out from under the glass counter and said, “I have a new shipment in the back room, if you care to look. Also, we can discuss price. I know that’s usually something the gentlemen don’t want to talk about in front of the lady.”

Billy touched a finger under Violet’s chin and disappeared with the clerk through a doorway.

Theda slid next to her sister. “Don’t raise your voice,” she whispered and lightly took her sister’s upper arm.

Violet inhaled, ready to shout, but Theda applied the same light but forceful pressure on her as she did to Jackson. The girls moved behind the other couple and to the next counter. “Start walking, sister. Slowly.”

“Theodora, where in God’s name have you been? We’re worried sick!”

“Listen! We must get out of here. Now.” She lightly pushed Violet toward the doorway but Violet abruptly stopped. Theda gritted her teeth. “Now Violet. I’m serious!”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where you’ve been!”

“I’ll tell you outside. Just keep moving!” She threw a glance over her shoulder. Jackson wasn’t at the tobacco stand. She didn’t see him anywhere.

“I can’t leave Billy,” Violet was saying, and Theda flared her nostrils at her steadfast politeness. “He’s taking me to see Father next. We’re to pick him up and go back to the house.”

“Where’s Mother?” The doorway where Billy followed the clerk was still empty but he’d be out in seconds.

“She’s at the house!” Violet wailed. “We waited up all night for you to come home, and then…”

Theda gripped her sister’s upper arm harder, and Violet winced. “Violet, Father is missing…”

“What do you mean? He worked all night at the lab! He sent Billy this morning to take us to him.”

“Where?” When Violet didn’t answer, Theda shook her head. “They’re lying to you. And they’ve separated you and Mother. We’re leaving. Now.” Theda tightened her grip and slightly lifted Violet up like she was a little child, and moved toward the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A hand clamped onto Theda’s shoulder and pulled her backward.

Theda turned and stared directly into Billy Rankin’s face. She understood why her sister and every girl in Kansas would find him attractive, but it was as if a devil wore a handsome man mask that most people would never see.

“Well, isn’t this the cat’s meow?” he said. “You know how worried you got your mama? You just walked out of that train station as if you were strolling through the park.”

Theda raised her shoulder fast and his hand popped off. For a moment he looked bewildered, then began to smile.

“I’m leaving here and I’m taking my sister with me,” she stated, raising her chin. She was afraid. He was a big farm boy and getting past him wasn’t going to be easy. “You’d be wise not to touch either of us again.”

“No, sorry, girlie. There’re a lot of people who’re wondering just where you ran off to. Your father is very worried about you.”

“She said father is missing!” Violet said. “Billy, why didn’t you tell me?”

He smiled. “Because he’s working at the General Building, like always. This sister of yours is lying.”

“My father didn’t contact my mother after he knew I was missing? Why didn’t he come to the house, then?”

“Maybe because he thought his spoilt daughter could use a night outside on her own,” he replied with a little snarl. Violet gasped. She had seen under the mask now as well.

“We’re going now,” Theda backed up a step.

“Is there a problem here?” The clerk appeared behind Billy.

“Sir, there is,” he said, eyes still on Theda’s. “Could you please ring Major Whittaker at the General Building? Just ask the operator to put you through. Relay the message that Rankin found the red winged blackbird. He’ll understand the message.” He winked at the clerk.

“Yes, sir.” The clerk disappeared again into the back room.

“You’re staying right here,” Billy lowered his voice, radiating a sour violence. Violet recoiled and raised her other hand to her throat. Theda squeezed Violet’s fingers. Violet squeezed back. Their childhood signal for escape.

The clerk’s voice carried from the back room. “Yes, please connect me with a Major Whittaker at the General? Yes, it’s important. An emergency!”

“Good day, Private Rankin,” They started to leave but Billy was quicker. He grabbed a handful of Theda’s coat just under her neck and pulled her toward him, yanking her hand from Violet. Billy twisted the coat, cutting Theda’s wind off just when she was exhaling. For an excruciating moment drawing air and talking were impossible.

Violet yelped and tried to grab Billy’s free arm but he held her off. The people rushing about slowed down and gawked.

Theda blinked. Her vision was beginning to blur when a massive hand swung from her left clamped onto Billy’s neck under his chin. His eyes bulged and now it was his turn to sputter for air.

“Let her go,” Jackson growled in a voice barely above a whisper“Now.” Jackson squeezed his fingers and Billy’s grip loosened. Jackson shook him once so fast that Billy’s hat fell to the ground and his fingers fell from Theda’s coat.

“Thank you,” Jackson said and with one motion threw Billy into a line of standing ashtrays. He lost his footing and fell over backwards, sliding ten feet across the ground and knocking the ashtrays over like dominoes, exploding with ashes and chewed cigarette butts.

Jackson’s eyes met Theda’s. She gulped air that burned in her throat. “Go,” he said, straightening up and pulling his coat down. The crowd had stopped whatever they were doing and stood watching them, mouths agape. Jackson said in his best British accent, “This man touched my wife’s breasts!”

A murmur of outrage rippled through the people and the clerk, hands on hips, harumphed. He had seen his sale go up in the same ash that was all over the floor. “Take ‘im out back then!” he snarled.

“Go!” he said to Theda again. He strode through the ash sending a metal ashtray spiraling. He hauled Billy up with one hand and hurled him toward the back door.

Theda took Violet’s hand and they banged through the double doors, sending two soldiers who were on their way in stumbling backward.

Outside, Theda stopped cold. Across the street men were surrounding the Martin Wasp. Conlin wasn’t standing so he had to have still been inside. Good. Hit the gas. Go! But she knew that waiting on the sidewalk wasn’t an option. As if her thoughts turned real, in the distance, sirens wailed. The clerk’s call was being answered.

“Let’s go. Now.” They ran down the sidewalk and disappeared into a back alley.