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

Irena shook her head and muttered a curse as she slid behind thesteering grips. The faux-leather upholstery was firm and cool against her skin.She switched on the heater as the door locked itself into place beside her.

"Oscar—automatic drive," Irena said, reaching to strokeHarry's forehead.

"Confirmed," the AI cooed. The engine started, shiftedinto gear, and the vehicle rolled out of its assigned stall.

Seconds later, they were passing blocks of tenements, headingstraight for the center of NewCity. The curfew wouldn't be in effect yet, notfor another year, so there would likely be all manner of activity outside ThePit tonight. Ghoulish youth and SYNs streaming in and out, eager to get theirhighs on. No one would notice the woman with the kidnapped baby, passing by ina stolen sedan. Irena appreciated the tinted windows. The hyper adolescents andgenetically engineered consumers would see nothing but their own reflections,should they cast a glance her way.

But as the sedan left the silent border of HellTown and joined thetraffic on Broadway, Irena was surprised to find a nightlife unlike anything she'dever seen: taxicabs coming and going in haste, foot traffic bustling on thesidewalks, streetlamps on full blast, and at the epicenter of all thisactivity, the nightclub owned and operated by Gavin Lennox—a bastion looming three stories into the night withThe Pit glowing from every bulb in its gaudy neon sign.

Only... It wasn't The Pit.

Irena squinted through the windshield as she passed, surroundedon all sides by cabs going in both directions, congesting the street in frontof the club. They pulled to the curb to let out couples that looked likehumans, only they weren't. A line out the door stood patiently beneath a longawning, synthetics talking to one another as they waited to enter. A massivebouncer—a mandroid—stood at double doors that looked like the entrance to amedieval castle. The sign above sportedglowing letters that curved attractively in an inviting script from older timeswhen life was simpler and more elegant: The Pearl.

Irena stared back through the rear window as the sedan carriedher away from the anomaly. The Pearl? What happened to The Pit? It didn't makesense.

But then she remembered what the clone had said—about things notbeing exactly as she'd left them. Why? Had bringing baby Harry to this whenalready changed the timeline?

Traffic dissipated as the sedan crept two blocks past The Pearl.Then it accelerated, passing three cabs in succession. A few blocks later, Irena andthe baby were the only commuters on the road. She gazed out the window at cityhall, police headquarters, a dozen other nondescript neoclassical officebuildings whipping by in blurs of grey. Thetrain station, dark and silent, loomed on the right.

She saw him again, a memory unsummoned: the younger version of herhusband, asleep on the bench. Pretending to miss his train as he waited toclimb the steps to the third tier, to the lockers, where the BackTracker waitedfor him.

Why had he taken it back to his younger self and left it there?Hadn't he seen it do enough damage in his own time?

The Hancock Building eventually slid past on the left, an imposingedifice of concrete and mirrored glass. The twelfth floor held Harry's office.Was he there right now?

I could go to him—try to convince him not totravel into the past.

Her heart raced at the prospect. But she knew it wouldn't work. Hewas dead, thanks to Cade's directive.

Or is he? Her mind screamed at the insanity of it all.

The sedan sped onward. They would arrive at the temple soon. Sheturned her gaze back to the infant in the seat next to her, his warm foreheadunder her palm, her fingers tracing the curls of his dark hair. She glanceddown at her legs.

How long since these monks have seen a woman?

For some reason, she thought of those hidden-camera comedies onthe Link. A woman walks into a monastery... She almost smiled. One handdrifted to the scar on her neck where the implant had been surgically removed.She didn't miss her Linkaccess. But those comedies always used to make herlaugh. Just the thought of them eased some of the tension in her abdomen rightnow.

"Destination," the computer sighed seductively, and thesedan eased to a halt at the curb. "Park or idle?"

The temple looked bigger than she remembered, half a city blockconsumed by its fortress-like walls. She couldn't see much of the ornatebuilding itself beyond the manicured hedges and trees, whitewashed in themoonlight. But again, she had to remind herself that things weren't exactlyas they had been. After all the bizarre situations she'd experienced in thepast twenty-four hours, it didn't take much effort to dismiss these glaringabnormalities and press on. She had a reason for being here, regardless of whatthe place looked like.

"Idle," Irena murmured, disconnecting the safety harness and reachingfor Harry.

"Invalid command," the AI scolded playfully.

Irena closed her eyes, summoning patience."Oscar—idle."

"Confirmed. Don't be too long, now, baby."

The door glided upward.

Harry squirmed and moaned in his sleep as Irena drewhim close and ducked out of the sedan's warmth. He settled down as she cradledhim, rocking gently from side to side. She glanced up the street, then down.Vacant. The square windows in the buildings nearby were dark.

A cold wind swept across the asphalt straight for her, spiralingup her legs with a flourish. She pressed her knees together as her skinprickled. Was this the right choice? Is this what she was supposed to do?Doubts threatened to flood her mind.

Without another moment's pause, she carried Harry toward thewrought iron gate and the intercom on the brick wall beside it.

"Yes, my child?" answered the white-robed monk on thesmall vidscreen. "Are you in need of succor?"

Irena wasn't sure what that meant. "My—my son and I needa safe place to stay."

The gate creaked and rolled to the side.

"Welcome to a refuge of the Way, my child. You may proceed tothe cubicles straight ahead. Here, may you find the sanctuary you seek."

While Cade had done his best over the years to influence her inhis own oblique manner, joining the Way had never been on her list ofpriorities. Irena had memorized some of their scriptures, and many of the stories rang true to her. In her