BACKTRACKER by Milo Fowler (books to read in your 30s TXT) 📗

been fortunate to see for herself. In-lawsshe'd never met. And here was her future husband in her arms, not even sixmonths old. Insane, impossible to believe. If she hadn't been the one standingthere holding him, she wouldn't have thought it was possible. Dumbfounded, shecould do little more than gaze at the blissful, pudgy, perfect face that wouldone day, decades later, grin and announce "I do!" in front ofeveryone they knew and loved.

Her Harry. Alive again.

"We should go," the clone whispered. He stood behindher, his hand on the small of her back.

A wave of fear crashed over her, leaving her limbs weak, herabdomen hollow. "I don't know how to take care of a baby. I won't knowwhat to do. If I can't, he'll die."

"No, Irena. He won't. Don't you remember what I told you?" Hishand rested gently on her shoulder and squeezed. "You will succeed. Youwill save his life."

The warmth of his breath tickled her ear. She would have cringed,but she didn't want to wake the baby with any sudden moves. And while she hatedto admit it, she appreciated the clone's tender touch and calm demeanor. Itawakened dormant memories from deep within, of her father tucking her in forthe night with a bedtime story and a kiss on the cheek.

This wasn't her father. She knew that. No matter how much he lookedand even smelled like the father she remembered, he was a synthetic being andnothing more. Even so, she couldn't control the memories that surfaced, buriedfor so long.

"What do I do?" she implored him in the dim light of theglowing mobile—spaceships suspended by strings of stars. "Tell me what Ihave to do next."

"I can't do that. As much as I wish I could." He set hisjaw. "We must not interfere with the timeline."

"Isn't that what we're doing right now?"

He shook his head. "This has already happened, Irena.Without getting too much into the technical side of things, you have to believeme when I tell you: I cannot guide your steps.If I did, and if it were to cause you to alter your course of action in anyway, then we would risk diverging thetimeline in an entirely new direction. In so doing, we would create another reality in which therewould be no foreseen outcome, no light at the end of the tunnel." Hewinced, stopping himself. "Is any of this getting through?"

You won't help me.

"Trust your instincts, Irena." He squeezed her shoulder again. "You know whatto do."

She looked down into Harry's face, tracing the curves of hischeeks with her eyes. His short, dark eyelashes, the soft black wisps of hair onthe dome of his little head.

I have no idea what I'm doing, Harry.

"Take the diaper bag. Bring something warm for him—a blanketor jacket or something." She glanced at the fuzzy blue one-piece he wore,the slippers on his tiny feet. "And a hat, something for his head."

The clone nodded, moving to retrieve the requested items from thedresser, the closet.

"Food, too.We'll have to feed him." She frowned. Wouldthere be baby formula where they were going? Children were few and far betweenafter the Plague, and formula wasn't cheap. "Or we can buy something, Iguess."

"It won't be extravagant, but the boy will be well providedfor. Rest assured."

"Nothing like this." She looked around the nursery withlonging, wishing she didn't have to take this beautiful baby boy from his twodoting parents and their wonderful house, their manicured lawns, probably a dogsomeday, a real one—everything a little boy needed in order to become a strong,well-adjusted man in a messed-up world.

I'm re-writing Harry's childhood. I'mchanging his past. What kind of man will he be now? Who will he become? She feltweak all over. She couldn't do this.

A single image returned to her mind: the body of Harold Muldoonlying decapitated in his dark office, drenched in his own blood.

She inhaled deeply,but not so deep that it jostled the baby. She noddedto him, to herself, with an unspoken resolution. "Let's go."

She slipped out of the nursery on the balls of her feet with theclone close behind, heavy-laden with all that he'd been able to scavenge.  Theydescended the staircase without a single creaking step and passed through thesilent living room, heading toward the garage and the security system panelbeyond, which the clone had managed to disable. He would need to reactivate itand replace the cover as if it had never been tampered with.

Irena held the infant close, wrapping him snugly in a blanket.It was cold out tonight. This night, this when. She didn't know how coldit would be when they were going, whenever that would be.

Where can we go and not be noticed, appearingout of the air?

"This won't even be here." Her voice was barely audibleas defeat slumped her shoulders.

"How's that?" the clone whispered, snapping the panel'scover into place. The security system would be back online in one minute. Hepicked up the diaper bag.

"What if we...materialize in the middle of someone's apartment?"

He nodded. "So we'll be using the BackTracker again?"

Isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Or not? "Wecan't keep him here, his parents..." Her throat tightened, choking off hervoice. Everything within her wanted to carry the baby back to his crib andleave him where he belonged. You know whatto do! Why won't you tell me? "Weneed to hide him someplace, some time when he'll be safe." She shook herhead with a sudden heaviness. "I have no idea where that would be."

The clone glanced at the watch on her wrist. "I can set itfor any moment you choose. We are limited only by the origin point from whichit first backtracked. Would you happen to know when that was?"

When Harry disappeared without a trace. He left that nightwithout a word. She'd pretended to be asleep. Why didn't I say anything tohim?

"Thirty years from now."

"Ten years in my future? Very well. Excellent, actually. I'mcurious to see how things turn out in the world." Then with suddeninspiration: "Will NewCity be a success? Will the Link go online acrossthe Provinces?"

She nodded, staring at the baby's sweet little face. Never hadanyone looked so peaceful.

"Incredible. That must have been quite a transition