It was completely dark when Aimee regained consciousness. Her head was thudding with a terrible migraine, and she could feel several deep cuts in her scalp that were barely scabbed over. Groaning, she tried to move and found herself bound tightly.
“Oh, you’re awake," she heard Shakila mutter weakly somewhere to her left. Aimee could only groan softly in reply. “Yeah, I got a glimpse of your head. It looked bad, but nothing permanent. You just need some stitches.”
“It...hurts…” Aimee muttered dizzily.
“Yeah, I bet.” Shakila’s tone indicated she wasn’t happy, and Aimee could guess why. “We’re in Shelton’s cellar, in case you were wondering. They hogtied us and dragged us here. I’m not sure where they went after that.”
Aimee closed her eyes; she could still see stars every time she moved her head. “How long has it been…?” she mumbled.
“Dunno, but it’s daytime right now. Look the other way, that square in the ceiling is the entrance.”
Aimee winced as she awkwardly rolled over. There was indeed a rickety ladder leading to a small hatch, and daylight was filtering through the cracks. “Crap...we’re gonna miss the rescue party…”
“We’re gonna miss a lot more than that…” Shakila noted darkly, as the hatch suddenly opened and Aimee saw Rudy climb down.
For several strained seconds, he merely glared at them. Even in the dim light of the cellar, Aimee could tell he was furious. “I’m not sure what I should even say to you…” he growled with barely-repressed rage. “I’m not sure why I’m wasting my time wanting to hear an explanation. Maybe we should have just called the cops immediately.”
He crossed to a work table and grabbed a flashlight, shining it in their eyes and causing Aimee to gasp in pain. “But I need to hear your side of the story,” he demanded. “I want to hear, in your own words, why you came into our house, ate our food, slept under our blankets, and then tried to kill my wife.”
“Where is Emi, anyway?” Shakila asked.
“She’s recovering in bed, but no changing the subject!” Rudy snapped. “She told me everything, about the time travel and being from the future, and I’m not sure how much of it I actually believe. Can you prove to me that all of that is true?”
Aimee bit her lip. “We could, but we promised not to--”
“--Chance Leslie,” Shakila interrupted.
Shelton blinked in surprise. “What?”
“Chance Leslie. He was your best friend in third grade.” Shakila ignored Aimee turning to look at her like she was insane. “He was really poor and his grades sucked. But when your class had a reading contest, that whoever read the most books would win a bike, he really wanted it and worked harder than you’d ever seen to read as many books as he could. But you did even more, just to beat him. You even submitted a few book reports for things you hadn’t even read, just watched the movie. You won the bike and barely used it, and when Chance eventually moved away, you never stopped feeling guilty about cheating to win.”
Shelton gaped like a fish. “How...how could you possibly know that?” he breathed. “I never told anyone about that.”
“Well, you’re gonna tell me. In 2009, while we’re eating lunch in the back of a moving truck.” Shakila spit out some blood. “Or at least, that’s what supposed to happen. But in that timeline, you never met Emi. You stayed in school and later moved to America as a scientist.” She met Rudy’s eyes. “We need that to happen. We need you in America, where you’re supposed to be, by 2009 or we’re both gonna die. That’s why we tried to get you to go back to school...by eliminating the thing that made you drop out.”
Rudy clicked the flashlight off. “But that...that’s ridiculous...” he stammered. “That’s crazy! Are you two insane? You tried to kill her because of this crackpot lunacy? Thinking you’re time travelers?”
“Remember my South Park sweater?” Shakila protested. “That show isn’t gonna exist for another decade, Google it! Or, uh, whatever people do in 1989 to look things up.”
“Quiet!” Rudy dropped the flashlight with a loud bang that brought Aimee’s migraine back with a vengeance. “I don’t care if you really are from the future or if you both fried your brain on drugs…” he growled. “Nothing you think gives you the right to assault my wife like that, and nothing you say is going to make me do anything for you.” He returned to the ladder. “Anything else? Or can I call the police and get this nightmare over with?”
“I gave you really solid evidence, but if you wanna just ignore it, you do you.” Shakila rolled her eyes. “You really aren’t the Shelton we knew.”
Rudy snarled and exited, slamming the cellar shut after him.
“Shakila...I’m not sure you played that right,” Aimee admitted.
“Oh, whatever.” Shakila harrumphed. “Lying and bargaining hasn’t worked out for us anyway. I’m tired of trying to find a solution to this terrible situation we’re in, especially since it’s entirely of our own making.” She sighed. “Maybe we should just go to jail, like we deserve to.”
“Well, you can give up,” Aimee clenched her fists, “but I don’t have the option to live in 1989 as a prisoner for the rest of my life. My cyborg arms are something of a giant giveaway that I’m not from this era.” She tried to rip her arms free, but their captors had used some sort of reinforced wire-threaded ropes, probably anticipating her super strength. “If Shelton comes back, I’m gonna show him my arms and try and scare him into cooperating--”
Abruptly the cellar door opened again, and Aimee experienced a brief panic thinking she’d have to actually put her half-baked plan into action, but then the best possible person dropped down the hatch. “Eric!” she whispered. “Oh thank god, can you get us out?”
“I could,” he answered, and Aimee noticed with trepidation that his voice was lacking the carefree glibness it always had. “I’ve got wire cutters from the ship.”
“Well? Come on!" Shakila protested, slower on the uptake.
“I’m not going to,” he admitted. “I didn’t come to rescue you. I came to say goodbye, and that I think you’re exactly where you deserve to be.”
“What? Eric!” Shakila protested. “You can’t leave us here! You’re going to wait for the rescue party, and then just return to the future without us?”
“No. I’m going to stay here, in 1989.” He shrugged. “The future already has an Eric. I think I’m just going to move to America, buy stock in Apple and Microsoft when they come around, and just lay back and let the world run its own course.”
“Eric, wait,” Aimee pleaded. “I get it. You’re mad we tried to kill Emi. But is this really worth sentencing us to live forever in the wrong time period? In some Earth prison somewhere?”
“Prison is exactly where attempted murderers belong!” Eric snapped.
“Then let us serve our time in the future! Take us to the rescue party, and then return home!” Aimee struggled with her bonds. “Eric, the Spire is currently entrenched in a fight to save the universe. You may think defecting will make you happy, but it’ll eat you up inside. Believe me, I learned the hard way that you’ll regret turning your back on your duties!”
“I don’t think so,” Eric shot back, “because unlike you two, I didn’t join the Spire crew to become a hero!” He teared up. “I did it to make friends. I just wanted to be part of a team. Shakila, you asked me why I was always so happy. How I could possibly maintain my optimism during these last few days. You know how I could survive all these time adventures with a smile on my face? Because I already had what I wanted. Or at least, what I thought I wanted.” He turned away. “But you two took advantage of our friendship. Shakila, you never said a single nice word to me. Aimee, you forced me to help you do something unspeakable, and now…” he wiped his eyes and returned to the hatch. “...now I hope I never see either of you again.”
Neither of them could muster a reply, and after several seconds he climbed back out of the cellar, leaving them once again in darkness.
“Okay, yeah,” Aimee finally admitted. “Maybe we’re screwed.”
But then the cellar door opened a third time, and someone Aimee never expected came creeping down the ladder.
“Is it true?” Lúcia asked, her voice barely a whisper. “Are you two really from the future?” She paced around them, her eyes aglow with barely-restrained wonder. “Are you really from space?” she asked. “Have you been on planets where no man has ever stepped, fought monsters no man has ever seen?”
“Yes to all of that,” Aimee answered.
“Will you take me with you?” Lúcia pleaded. “If I free you. Take me to space. I want to see the stars up close.” She could barely restrain her eagerness.
Aimee and Shakila looked at each other. “Lúcia…” Aimee started. “That’s not a good idea. You don’t really understand what you’re getting into. Here on Earth you’re safe, and the universe is a dangerous place.”
“I can handle it!” the young fox assured. “I’ve been cooped up in this little town my whole life, Mom won’t let me leave. I can’t take it anymore!” She grabbed a heavy chain trimmer from her dad’s workshop. “There’s no time, la policia will be here soon. Promise me I can go, and you’re free.”
Aimee exhaled. “Okay, fine...deal.” She extended her hands, and the young girl wasted no time in cutting them loose. “But we’re gonna have to move fast. Our ride could arrive at any minute, and if we’re not there, it won’t wait around.”
