The Bureau of Time (8 page)

Leave her alone, you bastard,
he thought, his hands twitching by his sides. Shaun kept his eyes forward, like the rest of the recruits, but Mathers shouted the entire conversation for their benefit.

“What do we have here? Some new drowned rat that recruitment’s dragged in? Count your push-ups, girl.”

Shaun tensed. He heard the breathlessness and fear in Cassie’s voice when she answered: “Fi-fifteen.”

“Fifteen,
Drill Sergeant!
” Mathers snapped. “You will address me with my rank, girl! Faster, we don’t have all day! A baby could do more push-ups than you, and babies can’t even feed themselves!”

Shaun forced himself to take a deep breath, his hands curling into fists.
Just leave her alone. Have a heart you son of a bitch.
But Mathers didn’t hear Shaun’s silent prayer.

“Absolutely pathetic. Not an ounce of muscle on you, girl. They get younger every week, and this one not even out of her training bra!” The Drill Sergeant’s raucous laughter echoed like a hyena’s cackle around the Ranch.

Shaun squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the Drill Sergeant. Beside him, Ryan muttered, “Stay calm, Shaun.”

There was a sharp, high-pitched cry of pain – undoubtedly Cassie. Something threatened to break inside Shaun, and his Affinity reached out toward her, her beacon flickering uncertainly in the Temporal field.

“Get up.”

“You knocked me down!”

“I said
get the hell up.
Fifty more. Now! Count them out.”

“O-one. T-two. Three. Four, F-five—” Another gasp of pain and a
thud.
Shaun flinched, the anger rising up inside of him, unable to be curtailed.

“You fell down again. Start again – are you
crying,
recruit? You’re a pathetic little daddy’s girl, recruit. Quit your blubbering, and
start again!
”

“Leave her alone!”

The words were out of Shaun’s mouth before he could stop himself. Ryan shot out a hand to grab Shaun, but the older boy was too slow – Shaun had already turned and forced his way through the press of bodies to stand over Cassie. She was sprawled on the asphalt, her hands bloodied. Her limbs trembled and tears streaked down her cheeks.

Drill Sergeant Mathers rounded on Shaun, his face contorted in rage.

“Did you say something to me, Timewalker?” Mathers snarled, his face turned the color of mashed beetroot. A vein throbbed in the side of his forehead.

Don’t say anything, just apologize,
said a small part of Shaun’s mind. It was only a small part though, and the larger part wanted to defend Cassie, to help her. Hadn’t he been in the same position twelve months ago? How many times had Mathers knocked him down, screamed at him, abused him? How many times had he wished that someone would step in and help?

“I said leave her alone,” Shaun repeated, louder. He heard a few of the recruits groan. At best, Mathers would only punish Shaun for his insolence; at worst, the entire lot of them would get additional exercises.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job,
boy,
” Mathers spat, spittle flying from his lips. He pointed at Cassie, still prone on the ground. “Do you want to take her exercises for her instead?”

“Just cut her some slack,” he countered, forcing himself to stand straighter, to not crumple beneath the Drill Sergeant’s withering glare. “She’s a Timewalker, like me. Adjusters tried to kill her two nights ago.”

“And unless she trains, they’ll
actually
kill her next time!” Mathers bellowed. He looked in disgust at Cassie, then turned around. Over his shoulder he said, “Get up and get out of my sight. Briars, don’t ever speak to me out of line again, is that understood?”

“Yes, Drill Sergeant,” Shaun nodded, letting out a shaky sigh. He had somehow, miraculously, avoided punishment. For a moment, he believed that, until Mathers turned back and added, “Double cleaning duty for the next two weeks, Timewalker. Maybe your magic tricks will help you clean the crapper.”

“
Company, move out!
” the Drill Sergeant shouted. Ryan glanced back at Shaun with an expression of thinly veiled disappointment. The recruits turned and marched away, following Mathers down a trail through the forested hills.

“Are you okay?” Shaun asked Cassie. He grabbed her hand and pulled her upright. She looked away from him, her cheeks burning brightly. Her palms were bloody from the asphalt, filled with flecks of grit.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled. “You – you shouldn’t have done that for me.”

“I wanted to. About time somebody told him to lay off the new recruits.”

“Thank you,” she said, meeting his gaze with sparkling blue eyes. The sun slowly mounted the horizon, painting the forest in an orange glow and lighting Cassie’s hair on fire. He realized he was staring and quickly looked away.

“It was nothing,” he said, with a nonchalant shrug. “Come on, we should catch up to the rest of them.”

The pair set off at a light jog through the pine forest, the fallen needles crunching beneath their feet. Cassie couldn’t quite match Shaun’s pace, so he slowed down. For the first time in months, he found himself appreciating the thick scent of pine in the air and the cool breeze filtering through the trees – the serenity was only broken by Mathers screaming insults at the other recruits ahead of them.

The path led up through the hills surrounding the Ranch, toward the highest point in the entire base, where two parabolic satellite dishes pointed at the sky.

“That’s how the base communicates with Eaglepoint Station,” Shaun explained, taking steady breaths between strides. “Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I slip out of the base and go up there to think, just me and the stars.”

He let out an embarrassed laugh. “I don’t know why I told you that.”

“It’s fine,” Cassie said, breathless despite the relatively slow pace. She flashed him a smile that made his stomach flutter.

They jogged in silence for a few minutes. Shaun grabbed low-hanging branches and hauled himself further up the hill, stopping to give Cassie a hand on the steeper parts. The trail switch-backed twice, running parallel to a service road for maintenance vehicles – of course, Mathers enjoyed making the recruits use the more treacherous trail.

“Can I – ask you – something?” Cassie huffed. Ahead, Shaun heard the recruits talking loudly. They were near the satellite dishes, and the company had stopped for a brief rest. For the moment, Cassie and Shaun were hidden by the trees and the natural curve of the hills.

“Anything,” Shaun said, coming to a stop. He unhooked a canteen from his belt and took a long drink. Cassie did the same, taking a moment to fix her hair in place.

“Why aren’t there more Timewalkers here?”

He flinched at her question. The wind intensified, howling through the trees. The parabolic dishes groaned, their metallic voices echoing the ghosts in his head –
couldn’t save me, can’t save us.
He took another drink, even though he was starting to feel sick again; the silence stretched too long.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s – it’s okay,” he said, leaning back against a tree, the rising sun glaring in his eyes. He took a deep breath, focusing on a point far away in the distance, past the Ranch’s fence, over the rolling countryside of Virginia.

“The truth is…as hard as we try, we can’t protect every Timewalker. We can’t save them all. Our –
mutation
,” he hated that word, it always made him think of doctors in lab coats, pricking and prodding him, testing his Regenerative ability over and over, “—our abilities, are very rare. And the Adjusters are strong, and deadly. We’re always too late, sometimes by hours, sometimes by just minutes.”

His voice trailed off into a quiet whisper. Hayden’s body flashed before his eyes again, a boy he’d never even known, murdered by those monstrous assassins. His blood boiled with white-hot rage, and he turned to face Cassie with a furious conviction humming through his bones.

“That’s why we’re here, Cassie,” he told her. “We
have
to be better, we have to train our physical and temporal abilities, so we can stop the Adjusters.”

He let out a breath and felt his anger melt away, replaced with sheer exhaustion. He looked at her, a sentence half-formed on his lips – he wanted to tell her how grateful he was that she was there, that the Bureau had managed to reach her in time. But he couldn’t force the image of her body away, the Adjuster’s knife buried in her chest just like Hayden Miller.

He couldn’t martial his thoughts into line, and then the moment passed.

Mathers’ bellowing shouts drew closer, and with a resigned sigh, he pushed off from the pine tree.

“Come on,” he said. “It’s going to be a long day.”

They fell into line with the recruits, Mathers giving them both a fresh barrage of insults. Shaun barely paid the Drill Sergeant any notice at all, lost in his own dark thoughts of Adjusters and Timewalkers.

THE ROUTINE

The first week at Brightwood Ranch was harder than anything Cassie had experienced before. The Bureau was unforgiving and unapologetic for the brutal schedule that started before dawn, forcing the recruits to neatly make their beds or face extra cleaning duties and pushups as punishment.

Then they were outside, running the ten-mile track that snaked through the three-hundred-acre woods of Brightwood Ranch. The dirt trails were steep, covered in loose stones and fallen pine needles, winding through the hills and down near the electromagnetic fence.

After the run, they trained with agents and operators in the gymnasium. They started with cardio training, then sparring with padded gloves, and finally self-defense tactics like knife disarmament. Cassie struggled with almost everything, only saved from complete humiliation when Ryan or Shaun could help her – but neither of the boys could make Drill Sergeant Mathers stop the dreaded tirade of insults and slurs that cut her to the core.

Breakfast was a simple affair in the mess hall, consisting of large volumes of scrambled eggs and a substance that claimed to be bacon. The food was far too salty, but the physical exercise gave her a ravenous hunger – and at least while she was eating, she was too preoccupied to think about anything else.

With stomachs full of cheap food and bitter coffee, the recruits separated again and were taken by agents – like Natalie Hunt – for tactical training in the classrooms, or by range masters to shoot targets on the indoor firing range.

The first two nights, Cassie cried herself to sleep; the next three, she was too exhausted to do anything except collapse face-first into her bunk, her body aching in places she had never imagined could hurt.

Her dreams were convoluted and haunted by dark, shadowy forms that vaguely resembled her family. There was a dull ache in her heart that had nothing to do with the rigorous exercise – she missed her parents desperately. She had once hated her mother for sending her back to Pennsylvania, screamed at her over the kitchen table in their Upper-West Side apartment.

That seemed like a lifetime ago now, and she would have given anything just to see her mother again. She missed her father’s embrace and his kind words, the way he would always take time to listen to her, or talk about her troubles at school; she missed laughing with him as he struggled to sing ‘
Shake It Off’
on their karaoke machine.

By the end of the first week, her body had started to change.

She still couldn’t do more than thirty pushups in a row – much to Drill Sergeant Mathers’ annoyance – but it was fifteen more than her first attempt, and she could keep pace with the company on their morning jog. Her lanky, wiry body – which had always been the subject of bullying and catcalling from the snarky clique of girls at her high school – started to fill out, lean muscles forming around her legs and arms. For once in her life, she was grateful for her flat chest – she could run easier than some of the older women, and her smaller size leant her surprising agility in the obstacle courses. She was always third or fourth fastest amongst the recruits, only beaten out by the larger men.

In weapons training, however, she was the worst of her entire company.

“Watch how I’m holding the gun,” Ryan Boreman told her, on the third unsuccessful day in a row. They were in the firing range of
Sector 5 –
the Temporal Operations division that housed the armory and ranges. The older teenager had taken over from the range master, but so far, it hadn’t made a difference.

Ryan was standing so close to her that his arm brushed up against hers, making her shiver every time they touched. They each wore over-the-head earmuffs, with one ear partially exposed so they could talk. Cassie flinched at the roaring gunshots from beside her. The paper targets twitched on their rails, the other recruits’ shots neatly landing on the chest or head.

Cassie looked at her own target, down on the 50-yard line, completely unscathed.

“A nice, firm grip like this,” Ryan said, demonstrating how to hold the Glock 17C.

“I’ve
got it,
” she said, taking the handgun from him – holding the gun wasn’t the problem,
hitting something
seemed the hardest part.

The Glock was surprisingly heavy; she needed two hands just to lift it. She stared down the sight, the barrel wavering. She wiped a hand across her forehead, distinctly aware of how much she was sweating – her gray tank top was soaked through, and a lock of hair hung loosely in front of her eyes.

She pulled the trigger. Her arm jerked backward, jarring her shoulder, and the shot went high above the target, hitting one of the reinforced baffles on the ceiling.
Damn it.
She sensed Ryan’s displeasure beside her.
Come on. You can do this.

She pulled the trigger again and again, discharging round after round, her shoulder jarring painfully. Each shot went wide, hitting the back wall or clipping the target’s rail, but never the black cutout itself. The slide flung back, the magazine and chamber both empty, and Cassie let out a frustrated scream, ripping her earmuffs off.

She stormed out of the firing range, ignoring Ryan – she didn’t want to see that look of disappointment on his face. She walked out of the range as fast as she could, a dozen eyes on her; a hot flush creeped onto her face, and it was all she could do to keep from running.