When Adeline had finished the story, Hana was silent for almost a minute. “Can I ask why you told me?”
“Do you know why I invested in Syntran all those years ago?”
“Because of the potential of what we’re doing.”
“Half right,” Adeline said. “The other half is that I saw myself in you—someone who had lost their father tragically, someone who was working to make sure that never happened to anyone else like you. There’s something very special about people who truly want to leave the world better than they found it. A lot of people talk about it. Far fewer actually do it. What I didn’t know then is that what you were building was the key to saving someone I cared deeply about: Nora. And that what I was creating was the key to giving you what you’ve always wanted: a way to save your father. A second chance to actually get to know him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I want to tell you about a place called Absolom Island. It’s a place where we’re going to rescue people who are lost in time. People who died tragic deaths, who deserve a chance at a full life. There’s just one thing we need: bodies to replace the people we take from the past. We need a Syntran lab we can operate. When it’s operational, I promise you that your father will be the second person we rescue from the island. And once we have him back, thanks to Syntran, you can give him that life-saving transplant.”
SEVENTY-SIX
Working methodically, Adeline, Elliott, and Hiro shut down the Absolom labs in Nevada. The employees were given generous severances. Ceasing development on the Absolom technology made the government inquest about the unauthorized Absolom departures easier to get rid of.
At home, Adeline faced a far greater challenge.
After school on Tuesday afternoon, she led Ryan into the family room, where he sat on the couch and Adeline perched on the edge of a club chair.
“I told you that Adeline went back to college.”
Ryan nodded, eying her, concern deepening by the second.
“I know she hasn’t responded to your texts or emails.”
“How did you—”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
He swallowed but didn’t look away.
“It’s something I said to you a few months ago. And twenty years ago.”
Ryan bunched his eyebrows.
“It’s over and we’re going home and Dad is waiting there for us.”
“He is? Wait. What?”
Adeline pressed on. She knew the words that would convince him, knew she had to get through them—the quicker the better.
“When you were eight, I was volunteering at Noah’s House, a non-profit shelter for kids who had been removed from their homes by social services. There was this big box of LEGOs in the garage. They were yours. I thought you didn’t want them anymore. You hadn’t played with them in years. I donated them to Noah’s House. When you found out I got rid of them, you lost it. You were so angry with me. Screaming and balling up your fists. And then when I told you who I had donated them to, you didn’t say another word. You were really conflicted. Still so angry, but you knew you weren’t playing with them anymore. And that they were doing more good at the shelter. You got a truck load of LEGOs that Christmas. They were stacked around the tree so high you could barely see the other presents.”
Ryan opened his mouth to speak. Adeline kept going.
“When you were six, you broke your leg and sprained your other ankle really badly. You were in a wheelchair for a month—until your ankle healed enough for crutches. I was pushing you in the street, but I didn’t realize how much speed we were gathering. Finally, I couldn’t even run fast enough to keep up. The wheelchair was pulling away, and I was losing control. I’ve never been that scared in my entire life.”
Even recounting the memory of it shot a bolt of fear through Adeline.
Ryan’s voice was just above a whisper. “What is this? What are you doing?”
“I knew I had to stop you before you got hit by a car. I lunged and pulled on the right handle of the wheelchair to steer it toward the ditch. I stood there in the street, panting, doubled over with my hands on my knees, watching as you crashed into that shallow ravine. Those seconds were probably the scariest of my entire life. Even scarier than watching Dad disappear in Absolom.”
The color drained from Ryan’s face.
“The yell that came out of you shattered me. I was terrified and winded, but I turned and ran back to the house. I thought my heart was going to explode inside my chest. I threw the door open and screamed for Dad, telling him you were hurt—and hurt badly and maybe dying—and I ran to my room and slammed the door and locked it and buried my head in a pillow and cried and cried until I had a headache and felt sick.”