The Silver Dream (InterWorld 2)

“Acacia!” Her hair whipped around her face as she turned toward me, arm still extended and holding something that looked like it was more likely to unlock a car door than save my life, even though that’s exactly what it had just done. My relief at seeing her was quickly replaced by worry; she’d just made herself a target, and J/O was taking aim again.

She launched herself—I wasn’t sure how, but it seemed to have something to do with her shoes—across the In-Between in my direction, using the car-beeper thing to shoot at J/O. I was reminded of when Hue had saved my life from the agents of HEX by hurtling toward me at full speed and teleporting us both out. Acacia did much the same thing, colliding with me as a burst of purple light enveloped us. We fell through nothing, and pain exploded once again in my shoulder as I landed on my back. I gasped—and opened my eyes to Acacia, backlit by a brilliant blue sky.

She was half on top of me, the ends of her dark hair brushing against my cheeks and lips. I blinked as a few strands got in my eyes, and felt her get to her feet. By the time I’d rubbed my eyes to clear my vision, she was standing, looking off into the distance.

I sat up carefully, using one arm to push myself to my feet. The grass beneath me was green, the sky above me blue, and puffy white clouds made their way across it. The sun was just climbing higher in the sky; I guessed the time to be around eleven A.M. or so, assuming this world counted time similarly to my old one. The air was clean and crisp, a little cool, tinged with a slightly acrid smell.

“Close call,” Acacia said suddenly, turning to look amiably at me. “Hey, Joe. It’s been a while.”

Ordinarily, I would have waved that off and asked where we were, or how she’d known to find me. I would have just been glad to see her again, and forgotten all about Jay’s warning.

But now I knew she was a Time Agent, and that meant I had different questions.

“How long is ‘a while’?”

She paused, giving me a considering look. “Since the last time I had to jet. When we punched it.”

“I remember. How long ago was that for you?”

She turned fully toward me and put her hands on her hips. “I’m guessing you know, then.”

“Yeah.”

“That I’m a Time Agent.”

“Yep.”

“Okay. Good question. Would you believe me if I said it’s been a few years?”

I paused, considering that. I looked her over carefully, checking what I saw with what I remembered; she didn’t seem any older. She was wearing mostly the same clothing she’d worn before; her hair was the same length. She sounded the same.

“No,” I said finally, trying to sound certain. I was rewarded with a bright, mischievous grin.

“Good answer! It’s been, what, three days for you?” I shrugged; honestly, with the rockslide and Jerzy’s death, I wasn’t even sure how many days ago I’d seen her. It felt like both yesterday and forever.

“It’s been about a week for me. Your ship, ah, punching it was a little disorienting. It messed with me something major, actually. I was sick for two days, couldn’t eat a thing.” She stretched her arms over her head and clasped them behind her neck casually, turning this way and that to look over our new surroundings.

“Why?”

“Because you were flickering through multiple dimensions at warp speed. I’m a Time Agent, Joe. My grip on this plane is a little more tenuous than yours. I have to temporarily anchor anywhere I go.”

That made a certain amount of sense. “So we messed with your anchor.”

“More like I lost it completely. Have you ever been really, really seasick?”

I shook my head. “I went over a waterfall in a barrel once.”

She laughed. “Well, it was probably kind of like that.” She paused, tilting her head. “You hear that?”

I listened. Off in the distance, there was scattered percussion, faint pops and booms. “Yeah. What is it?”

“C’mon.” She took my hand.

“I remember learning about this in high school.” We were standing on a ridge just inside a copse of trees, watching the figures in their life-or-death chess match below. “The Battle of the Somme, 1916. Third period history, with Mr. Luru.”

“So do I,” Acacia said, though she grinned when I looked at her. “I remember learning it,” she clarified. “Not in your third period history class. I was here, though. Field trip. We watched from right over there.” She pointed.

“Is what they say in all the science fiction novels true? That you create a paradox by being in the same place at the same time, and it could destroy the world, or make more of you?”