BACKTRACKER Milo Fowler (book recommendations based on other books TXT) 📖

I learned the error of my ways, I spentyears making everything right again, undoing what I had done by collapsingevery alternate reality at the source of its divergence from the originalstrand." He paused. "Then he came along."

"The man you killed." Muldoon watched him. "Thewrong one, you said."

Horton hesitated. "Yes. That's right." He cleared histhroat. "He began his own crusades through time, righting the wrongs ofhis own generation, and in so doing, he unwittingly created a fresh plethora ofalternate realities."

"So there's what, thousands of them now?"

Horton shook his head. "Not so much."

"What happened to the others?"

"They were collapsed by my younger self. He sent one of mychildren back through time to take care of it, to nip it in the bud, so tospeak." His eyes brightened. "You haven't met my children yet, haveyou, Harry?"

"No, I—"

"Well, you will. And who knows, you might even meet myyounger self—but I'd avoid it, if I were you. I don't know how he'd react if hewere to see you again in the flesh!" He laughed out loud.

"Your younger self?"

"Of course." He paused. "I'm sorry, I haven't mademyself clear. This is my reality, of course, but it's not exactly my time."He grinned sheepishly. "I'm from a few years down the road. Had to comeback to set my younger self straight. The person he should have terminated was Gavin Lennox. A real Schrödinger's cat, that guy—both alive anddead! It's been Lennox all along who's kept the breaches open, tunneling through the membrane willy-nilly. Stretching the fabric of reality between worlds until it's close to the breaking point."

Muldoon took a step toward the door. I can't stay here listening to this. Not when shecould be out there. Somewhere.

Irena.

"I should have seen it sooner—he should have, myyounger self,"Horton continued. "But he had his blinders on. Ihave a tendency to do that, sometimes. Tunnel vision syndrome, I suppose.Regardless, Lennox has gotten to be one of the mostpowerful men in both realities, yours and mine. He's incrediblydangerous."

Muldoon turned and reached out with the open palm of his hand. Thesteel grate beside the door met his fingertips.

"He killed his own alternate. Can you believe it? What kindof a man would it take to do something like that? To look into the eyes of aface identical to your own, to know you're looking at yourself, and to killthat person, that you." Horton shuddered. "Gives me thechills, just thinking about it. Would it be murder or suicide? Chew on that for awhile."

The momentary glow of the sensor grate showed through Muldoon'ssquared fingernails. The door clicked open, and he shoved it the rest of theway.

"Hey, where are you going?" Horton shuffled after him.

Muldoon was already out in the hallway, heading for the stairwellunder the flickering throes of cracked and battered light tubes. He knew thisbuilding well enough, regardless of the reality. What he would find outside, hehad no idea. But he would welcome it. Anything was better than hearing more ofthe old man's ravings.

"Wait up!" Horton called after him. "You'll need aguide, you know. This isn't your world!"

Muldoon didn't slow his pace. Gone from his mind were thoughts oftime travel or kidnappers disguised as monks or even the boy for whom he'd sodesperately searched. Now there was only one image...one beautiful face withskin softer than silk, eyes closed with long, black lashes, her back rising andfalling gently with each breath. Irena as he remembered seeing her last, sound asleep in theirbed.

When he'd left her earlythat morning.

Why did I go? How could I leave you without aword?

For that damned package. From Cyrus Horton.

Your father.

Memories flooded his mind then, clear and true, and for the firsttime in more years than he could count, he knew they were real.

All of them.

FOURTEEN

 

Twenty Years Ago

Alpha Geminorum Labs jutted up from the street like an imposingfortress of concrete and mirrors, greeting Irena dourly as she slowed thecoupe to a humming stop less than a block away. This was as close as she couldget. The two guards at the security station would have it no other way.

"Park or idle?" droned the computer console.

Irena averted her gaze from the direct stare of one of theguards, the one who, with a word to his comrade, sauntered straight forMuldoon's Paradox.

"Oscar—park." She fumbled with the safety harness.

The hard soles of the guard's boots approached.

"There does not appear to be a parking structure on this sideof the security gate. Accessing other options," replied the computer.

"You do that," she muttered.

The guard's knuckles rapped twice on her window. She looked up,doing her best not towilt under his over-confident look. He gestured forher to roll down the window.

"Oscar—window down," she gave the voice command.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" The guard leaned in as the tinted pane of glassslid downward, his face too close to hers. He smelled of aftershave and sweat,even though the day was young and the sun was still low in the sky. "Youaren't lost, are you?" He winked.

"No—I..." The harness buckle relinquished its hold, andshe tossed the straps aside. "I'm here to see Dr. Horton. I'mhis...niece."

This will never work!

"Niece, huh? Well, you'd have to be from the other end of hisgene pool, if you know what I mean." He winked again. How old was he?Twenty?

It was strange seeing a human in this line of work. Irena hadgrown accustomed to synthetics in such roles—waiters, clerks, guards. But here,in this when, twenty years in her own past, humans were still out andabout, holding down real jobs in the real world. She'd noticed it earlier: allthe people walking the streets in the sunshine as if they belonged out there.Not a zombie or ghoul among them. Link addicts were a rarity at this point intime.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"What?"Of course I need an appointment. What was she thinking?

The guard's winning smile made him look years younger—fresh out ofsecondary with a mandatory crew cut."Don't tell me you think you can just swing onby the labs anytime you please?" He supported himself on the roof of thecoupe. "Yes, you need an appointment. You've got to be on the list. Youknow what kind of stuff