Zach Croft: 2053
Zach’s lungs were on fire.
As he sprinted down the cracked cement sidewalk, the soles of his feet throbbed with each brutal impact. He looked over his shoulder, praying that his pursuer was no longer behind him.
But she was.
To make matters worse, the woman was gaining on him quickly. Her strides covered far more ground than his own, and her arms pumped with a precision that put Zach’s movements to shame. Zach’s body screamed at him to stop, to collapse on the ground and succumb to whatever came next, but his mind wouldn’t let him give up. It was as if autopilot had kicked in and refused to relinquish control.
Zach veered suddenly as the sidewalk forked in three directions, hoping to lose his pursuer and give himself a fighting chance. He considered taking a shortcut through the grass but knew it wouldn’t make a difference. She was too fast.
Zach glanced over his shoulder again. The woman’s intense blue eyes locked onto him, and she began to run even faster.
Eight feet.
His legs lost all feeling. His hips swung like broken hinges, and his throat felt as though it was full of volcanic ash. He just wanted it to stop.
Six feet.
Four feet.
The woman reached for Zach, clawing for his shoulder. Dodging her hand, he swerved to the side and nearly tripped over his feet, barely remaining upright.
Then, just as the woman was about to grab Zach’s shirt, he passed a sprawling oak tree and skidded to a stop. He slammed his palm down on his stopwatch.
5:46, ten seconds better than last week.
As Zach dropped to the bench of a nearby picnic table, the woman steadied herself against the tree. “Water,” she said, making a claw with her hand. Zach tossed her his bottle and watched as she took a long sip. “I could have beaten you,” she said, then tossed the container back. “You got lucky this time.”
“Same excuse, different day,” Zach said. She had said that every day for months, maybe even years. He did admire her unwillingness to admit defeat, though—it was one of the many things that made Cora Keaton special.
Zach untied his maroon Harvard sweater from around his waist and set it on the bench. Despite graduating from the astronomy program nearly nine years prior, he still carried the beat-up old thing everywhere he went. It was sort of a good luck charm for him.
Cora laid her hand flat, flipping through pages on an unseen notepad. “January 23rd, 2053. I beat you by twenty-six seconds.”
“You threw a branch at me.”
Cora waved his comment off. “Ah, it fell on you.”
“From your hand.”
Cora gave a breathy smile and turned away. “Yeah, yeah. How much longer do we have?”
Zach checked his watch. “An hour, but we better leave time.” It was only eight in the morning, but the temperature had already soared into the eighties. Sweat streamed down their faces and soaked their clothes.
As much as Zach despised the sweltering Pasadena heat, coming to the park had been part of his routine for ages. Work at OSE started late, and Zach wasn’t one to sleep in. Frankly, he had enough trouble sleeping at all. That left two options: he could kill time getting breakfast—coffee, bagel, whatever—or try to burn off the pent-up energy through running.
“You ready for your meeting with Carver?” Cora asked with her hands on her hips.
Zach shrugged and glanced at the ground. “Honestly? I do
Zach Croft: 2053
Zach’s lungs were on fire.
As he sprinted down the cracked cement sidewalk, the soles of his feet throbbed with each brutal impact. He looked over his shoulder, praying that his pursuer was no longer behind him.
But she was.
To make matters worse, the woman was gaining on him quickly. Her strides covered far more ground than his own, and her arms pumped with a precision that put Zach’s movements to shame. Zach’s body screamed at him to stop, to collapse on the ground and succumb to whatever came next, but his mind wouldn’t let him give up. It was as if autopilot had kicked in and refused to relinquish control.
Zach veered suddenly as the sidewalk forked in three directions, hoping to lose his pursuer and give himself a fighting chance. He considered taking a shortcut through the grass but knew it wouldn’t make a difference. She was too fast.
Zach glanced over his shoulder again. The woman’s intense blue eyes locked onto him, and she began to run even faster.
Eight feet.
His legs lost all feeling. His hips swung like broken hinges, and his throat felt as though it was full of volcanic ash. He just wanted it to stop.
Six feet.
Four feet.
The woman reached for Zach, clawing for his shoulder. Dodging her hand, he swerved to the side and nearly tripped over his feet, barely remaining upright.
Then, just as the woman was about to grab Zach’s shirt, he passed a sprawling oak tree and skidded to a stop. He slammed his palm down on his stopwatch.
5:46, ten seconds better than last week.
As Zach dropped to the bench of a nearby picnic table, the woman steadied herself against the tree. “Water,” she said, making a claw with her hand. Zach tossed her his bottle and watched as she took a long sip. “I could have beaten you,” she said, then tossed the container back. “You got lucky this time.”
“Same excuse, different day,” Zach said. She had said that every day for months, maybe even years. He did admire her unwillingness to admit defeat, though—it was one of the many things that made Cora Keaton special.
Zach untied his maroon Harvard sweater from around his waist and set it on the bench. Despite graduating from the astronomy program nearly nine years prior, he still carried the beat-up old thing everywhere he went. It was sort of a good luck charm for him.
Cora laid her hand flat, flipping through pages on an unseen notepad. “January 23rd, 2053. I beat you by twenty-six seconds.”
“You threw a branch at me.”
Cora waved his comment off. “Ah, it fell on you.”
“From your hand.”
Cora gave a breathy smile and turned away. “Yeah, yeah. How much longer do we have?”
Zach checked his watch. “An hour, but we better leave time.” It was only eight in the morning, but the temperature had already soared into the eighties. Sweat streamed down their faces and soaked their clothes.
As much as Zach despised the sweltering Pasadena heat, coming to the park had been part of his routine for ages. Work at OSE started late, and Zach wasn’t one to sleep in. Frankly, he had enough trouble sleeping at all. That left two options: he could kill time getting breakfast—coffee, bagel, whatever—or try to burn off the pent-up energy through running.
“You ready for your meeting with Carver?” Cora asked with her hands on her hips.
Zach shrugged and glanced at the ground. “Honestly? I don’t know why he even keeps me around anymore.”
“Just make sure you get your point across.”
“It’s not even my meeting. It’s the MagRes team. He won’t be listening to me.”
“Then make him listen.”
Zach gave a frustrated smile. “It won’t be enough. It doesn’t matter what I tell him. His mind is made up.”
“Make him listen,” Cora repeated firmly.
“Fine, sure.” Zach grabbed his sweater and headed for his truck. “The meeting’s at the MagRes center. Don’t wait for me. It might be a while.”
n’t know why he even keeps me around anymore.”
“Just make sure you get your point across.”
“It’s not even my meeting. It’s the MagRes team. He won’t be listening to me.”
“Then make him listen.”
Zach gave a frustrated smile. “It won’t be enough. It doesn’t matter what I tell him. His mind is made up.”
“Make him listen,” Cora repeated firmly.
“Fine, sure.” Zach grabbed his sweater and headed for his truck. “The meeting’s at the MagRes center. Don’t wait for me. It might be a while.”
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Copyright © 2024 All Rights Reserved
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
