Scatter, p.18
Scatter, page 18
“That is Shen Kong?”
“Yes. He was recently ‘promoted’ because of the struggles Huawei had had with the United States and many of its allies who have forbidden their government contractors to deal with them.”
“Because they’re afraid China will spy on them through the tech that Huawei sells them.”
Wenling nodded. “Especially with the introduction of 5G technology. Have some wine.”
I poured myself a third of a glass for myself and for her. We both took sips. Wenling visibly leaned her head forward and sucked bubbles through her mouthful before swallowing and nodding.
“Shen Kong has been visiting the US off and on for months now to lobby congressmen and women. Conveniently, he just landed at Andrews Air Force Base for one of those visits. But I ensured this time he will be surrounded and questioned by American news media. Then he will transfer to ground transportation to travel to the Capitol, a little over fifteen miles away. A half hour drive.”
She slid her phone across the table towards me. Two apps were open on its front. The first was a countdown timer on top, set to ten minutes and not yet moving. Below it was a phone app that had three numbers, each with a code name beside it: Horse, Rat, and Snake.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I asked.
“Guess.”
I looked from the phone to Wenling’s face. “Three numbers. Three tries. You want to change history twice like SCATTER did in Taiwan, so people like me and brother might notice.”
Wenling smiled. “Yes. And not just any changes. They must be changes like the ones SCATTER did with Kuang Dishi so that they know we know.”
“And that we can do the same.”
“Yes.”
It was cold, terrible, and brilliant. Exactly what I should have expected from her.
Knowing that didn’t stop the sudden increase of flood flow in my body, the tension that had started tightening up my neck and forehead, my increased heartrate. Because I now knew that Wenling was going to want me to give some kind of order by phone, then jump back after eight or nine minutes, give a different order, then jump back again to give a third order. Create three distinct timelines. All tonight. Which meant at least two states of emotional trauma so serious my mind would want to leave this body, this timeline, and jump back to an earlier one.
For a noble cause. To stop SCATTER.
Screw nobility.
To save. Kenny and Kansas.
And Xiaobo.
Yes.
Wenling was looking at me now, so calm and confident in my ability and willingness to do this. Was that because it had always been easier for her brother, Xiaobo? It must have been. Because, from her brief history, it was clear he must have been making jumps back in time almost daily for years. I couldn’t understand how he could do that and stay sane if his jumps hurt like mine did.
I swallowed dryly. “The horse first? What do you want me to tell him or her to do?”
Wenling breathed out and broke into a genuine smile, showing she hadn’t been sure of me after all. Seeing that vulnerability in her again actually helped me. “Yes, horse,” she said. “And all you have to do is give the person on the phone one word, ‘Xiaobo,’ then hang up and start the timer on the phone.”
“I call now?”
Wenling turned toward the wall that ran along this side of the room from the kitchen to the big windows and called out, “Open TV. CNN. Volume zero.”
A wall panel about five feet above the ground slid up, revealing a screen that had to be at least sixty inches diagonally. It turned on and the CNN logo appeared on the top left for a second before it began playing silently. A blond woman I didn’t recognize was talking to the camera with what looked like an airport tarmac where a private jet was deboarding into a gaggle of news media, all waving microphones and cameras at them.
“Do you have your new phone with you?” Wenling asked.
I nodded, pulled it out of my jeans pocket, and passed it to her. She dialed a number and put it to her ear. After a second, it obviously connected, and she spoke softly and quietly in Chinese. Listened. Said something else in Chinese. Opened some app on the phone and said something more as she poked the phone. Then hung up.
She put “my” phone on the table beside the other one and I saw a timer was running. She said, “When it hits twenty, you call. Earlier if Shen Kong starts entering his car.”
We watched the timer together, and at forty seconds, I dialed “Horse.”
Someone answered.
“Xiaobo,” I said and hung up. I pressed the button for the time app above the phone app and the numbers started counting down.
“Good,” said Wenling.
“What happens now?”
She considered me, then decided she could trust me to continue. “Right now, Shen Kong’s translator is telling the American media that a radical anti-Chinese group made up of loosely affiliated Falun Gong, anti-5G conspiracy theorists, and white nationalists are planning to stage a protest tomorrow morning outside the gates of the White House, denouncing China’s Huawei’s as a tool of a belligerent China which is determined to undermine the power of the United States and democracy in general.”
“And this is live?”
“Yes. TV volume four!”
The sound came up on the TV just as the blond commentator obviously heard something in her earpiece. She cocked her head, nodded, and looked directly into the camera lens at her viewers. “In some breaking news, Huawei Operations Director Shen Kong, who just landed in Andrews Air Force Base for meetings tomorrow with members of congress, has been notified of a potentially dangerous protest tomorrow at the Capitol by a group called Western Freedom. We’re still waiting confirmation , but Fox News is reporting—”
“Volume zero!” Wenling’s command silenced the TV. She said, “When you jump back, it must be to before you gave the order, but not too much before because Shen Kong must be getting off his plane. Can you do that?”
I nodded, though my mouth had gone bone dry.
I stared at the timer counting down and remembered how much had happened in every other jump in the ten minutes preceding them. Usually something that got him fighting, or running, or just getting the hell kicked out of him. Or Lena had been in danger, or getting her throat cut, or…
My heart was pounding now, and I took a few deep breaths. I couldn’t let myself get too worked up yet. Still 8.5 minutes to go. Well, maybe six to be on the safe side.
Then I realized that it didn’t matter how quickly I jumped back because I wouldn’t be changing anything before Shen Kong landed. It was only when I gave my next command that mattered. So I needed to get back now. As fast as I could, because my control over how long it would take me without a direct threat to my life was…tenuous.
I closed my eyes to tell myself I was a failure, a loser, a screw up who could never get things right, who…
Wenling said, “You can time travel now.”
I nodded jerkily. It wasn’t working! I was too caught up in the pressure to jump and distracted by the reasons to jump that I couldn’t focus. Yes, I knew I was a failure. I knew that. I knew, but…
I opened my eyes.
Six minutes to go.
My head suddenly beaded up in sweat. I wasn’t going to be able to jump. Wenling’s plan wouldn’t work. She’d see I couldn’t do what she needed. She’d kick me to the curb. I’d be taken by SCATTER or simply left alone and clueless.
Not acceptable.
“Insult me,” I blurted to Wenling. “Tell me I’m a failure. Tell me I’m not a real man. Don’t worry, you won’t remember ever doing it if it works.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because I may not be able to jump without it.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You are only telling me this now?” The pitch of her voice was starting to climb. That was good.
I gave a jerky shrug. “Lena didn’t tell you that, hunh? I have to fear I’m about to die or be kicked so hard emotionally by myself or others that…”
“You are a nothing man!”
“Yes,” I said, drinking in the absolute hate building in her eyes. “And time’s running out.”
“You are a worthless wanker. A knob head. A maggot. You have a limp penis. That’s why you can’t accept the offer of my body! You’re weaker than a pussy! You’re a Flo rag who cannot hold onto a woman, cannot let yourself believe how much that woman hates him! Lena hates you! Because you failed her! Like you failed your brother! Like you are failing me!”
It was sinking in, but too slowly. My defensive shells were blocking her out. Even though I was breathing hard and red faced. I wasn’t leaping anywhere. And the clock was clicking down.
“I NEED MORE!” I roared at her and jumped up from the table, began stomping around the room, beating my forehead with my knuckles. “TELL ME I’M USELESS! TELL ME I FAILED MY SISTER, TOO! THE ONE WOMAN IN MY LIFE WHO HAS ALWAYS LOVED AND LOOKED OUT FOR ME AND I FAILED HER!”
“Her name?” Wenling called to me.
“KANSAS! I HAVED FAILED HER! THEY’VE TAKEN HER AND I CAN’T EVEN JUMP TO HELP HER! I’M A LOSER! I’M A LOSER! I’M A—“
I stopped because Wenling had come up behind me, grabbed my shoulder, and spun me around. She was holding a knife in her right hand. Not a santoku knife with its squared-off tip. This was a chef’s knife, a good eight inches long and ending in a very sharp and deadly point.
I looked into her eyes and saw a terrifying resolve. “What are you—?”
She stabbed me in my gut.
“Wha—?”
She wrapped her other hand around the one holding the knife and used both hands to thrust upward into me, going for my heart. I could feel it rip through my diaphragm, lung tissue, saw it in my mind as I shuddered and—
I was in my chair at the dining table, sitting across from Wenling, the phone with the animal-labeled quick dial numbers lying flat in front of me.
“Do you have your new phone with you?” Wenling asked.
I shook my head. How did I get back…? Wasn’t I just…? The knife… The fucking knife!
I leapt out of my chair and stared across at Wenling in horror. I could hardly breathe.
“What is it?” she said.
“You… Oh my God. And I thought Lena was cold.”
“Explain,” Wenling said, obviously angry about being compared to Lena this way.
“You know what? I’m not going to do that. Because telling you will just make sure you do it again.”
“Do what? What will I do… Wait. Have you already done one of your time jumps?”
“Bingo! Give the lady a prize for the ability to recognize a chrono-aberration!”
“If you jumped, what was the first—“
“The first instruction? The Horse? To communicate with Shen Kong’s security and the White House that there was going to be a protest tomorrow morning by a group known as Western Freedom over Shen Kong’s meeting with President Biden. Of course, I’m not going to call Horse this time, so that protest will never be warned and will never happen, if, in fact, it was ever going to happen. No, now I’m going to call the Rat, right? Which sounds kind of ominous. You going to tell me what it will do?”
She looked evenly at me. “No. But I must ensure she is in place. Give me your phone.”
I handed it over and she dialed a number. Listened. Gave instructions. Then handed the phone to me. “Now you can call.”
“Good!” Feeling the reckless flood of adrenaline surging in me from the fact I was alive after being stabbed in the gut twice only moments ago in the timeline I remembered, I punched the second quick-dial number beside the word Rat.
Someone answered the first ring, another female, speaking quickly in Chinese. “Ninhao. Wo shi Chu.”
I looked at Wenling, who nodded. I said, “Xiaobo,” and hung up.
I hit the ten-minute countdown clock and stared at it as it started to count down. My whole body was trembling and sweating. I should have looked at Wenling. I should have asked her what I’d just done. But it was all I could do to not yell at her or go running from the room.
After almost a full minute passed, Wenling said, “Do you want to know what Chu just triggered?”
I looked over at her, not daring to speak.
“It may take another minute.” Her eyes flicked to the silent CNN reporting on the TV screen. “Or maybe not. Volume four!”
The same CNN blond news anchor was nodding her head to something being spoken into her ear bud. “Repeat that, please,” she said. Then she nodded and looked directly out at her viewers. “Our reporters at the scene of Huawei ambassador Shen Kong’s arrival at Andrews Air Force Base report they’ve seen an explosion on the periphery of Shen’s retinue.” She tilted her head, obviously reading more of the story on a teleprompter. “We’re learning that apparently a welcome package that may have been intended for the ambassador was intercepted by one of his aides. We don’t know how it got through security or…”
“Volume zero!”
There was a long silence. Wenling took a sip of her wine.
I stared at her, dumbfounded. “I just killed a man, didn’t I?”
“In this timeline, yes. But if you can erase your earlier timelines when you travel back and make other choices, he does not have to stay dead.”
I swore under my breath and shakily got up from my chair.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to jump, right?” I said. I walked jerkily to the center of the room, looking about blindly. I had to jump back now. I’d just caused someone to be killed. I couldn’t let that stand. But I didn’t know if I could jump back again. Not without… Not…
I looked back at Wenling who was regarding me gravely. Had Lena also told her that the way I normally jumped was when my life was threatened? It hadn’t seemed so. Wenling had been shocked the last time (which now never was) that I could just do it on command.
Should I tell her now?
No. No. I wasn’t going to let her stab me again. I had to jump on my own. I had to do it now.
“What are you thinking?” Wenling called. “Your face looks strange.”
“All part of the process,” I said. Then I turned and ran from the room through the entry drawing room, and out of it to the main hall and front door. Would it be locked? Just how free was I here?
I grabbed the front door’s handle and yanked it down. The door opened! I yanked it towards me and plunged outside as Wenling yelled something after me. I ran. I ran in shoes and jeans and gray sweater out into the pitch-black night.
And stopped, shaking and gasping in my own panic.
I couldn’t just run. I had to jump.
The air stank like burnt plastic, bitter and hot, clawing at my throat.
Or maybe it was just me, my imagination turning the night into the seventh circle of Dante’s inferno, specifically the innermost ring of it that is made up of blasphemers who do violence to God and nature. Which I did every time I jumped back and rewrote reality. And Wenling did to me.
Pathetic! Do or not do!
Shut up! To do means to kill myself here, physically or psychologically. Die in this timestream so I can fly back to safety.
Then doooo it!
I…
Do it, FAILURE! You not only failed Kenny and Kansas and Lena, but you’re failing them all over again now by finding Zhou Wenling and screwing up with her, too. Failing. Failure. No wonder you’re alone and losing everyone you ever care about, every person who ever wanted your help.
I stumbled on the uneven grass because the accusations in my head were true. One hundred percent vein-burning acid.
Failure.
Fuckup.
Loser.
Gone.
Gone.
GONE!!!
I was sitting at a table with a phone on that table in front of me.
I blinked, my head all fuzzy. It was a dining table. And across from me was Zhou Wenling. I was supposed to call her Elizabeth Chan in public, an Amazon rep. Except she wasn’t an Amazon rep. She was a secretive billionaire who’d fought her way out of poverty in China and bought her way to the States. And she’d offered her body to me. I’d refused. She wanted me to fight the CIA with her to get back her brother and my brother.
Got it.
I realized Wenling had been smiling, then talking as I got my brain sorted into its current timeline. She was still talking. “…must be changes like the ones SCATTER did with Kuang Dishi so that they know we know.”
I remembered this conversation, of course, and gave the response I’d given the first time around. “And that we can do the same.”
“Yes.”
And of course, she was right. But this time I understood what she meant by changes “like” the ones SCATTER did with Kuang Dishi. Because so far we’d mirrored them almost to the letter. The political action group protesting Shen Kong’s arrival. The letter bomb blowing up one of his aides. Next, we were obviously going to arrange for Shen to be killed on the way from Andrews Air Force Base to his hotel in DC. Some big rig was already in place to tee-bone the car. Or there was an IUD. Or the car was rigged to explode.
“Are you going to ask me what I need you to do?” Wenling said, smiling, totally confident in her plan, with obviously no qualms about its real-life consequences.
“You want me to dial a number and say your brother’s name,” I said dully.
Wenling’s smile faltered. “How did you know…? Oh.” Then quickly, fully engaged: “How many times have you jumped?”
Ha. She even had the lingo now. She was so smart. Our mission needed smart. But not like this.
“Twice,” I finally answered her, breathing hard now as if all that had just come before—the shouting at her, getting stabbed, jumping, running away from her and making myself jump anyway—had happened to this body, even though this body had done none of it. Only this mind. Only this self. This soul. Me.
