A rabbit. They were going to experiment on the rabbit.
“No need for theatrics, Brocco,” Captain Vincent said. “This isn’t a magic show.”
“Seems like a magic show to me,” Wiley said, puffing on his pipe. Matt couldn’t see the pipe, but the sweet scent of the smoke seeped into his cells inside the dynamite.
Captain Vincent pulled the time tapestry from the rabbit. He wrapped a stick of dynamite inside the time tapestry.
“Light her up,” Captain Vincent said.
Nobel struck a match and lit the wick. When it caught and started to burn, Matt’s cells immediately contracted, like he was recoiling from imminent pain.
“Back up!” Nobel called. They all quickly backed away from the rabbit, its time tapestry, and the dynamite.
When the dynamite went off, Matt exploded with it.
27Don’t Let Go
Being blown up from inside of dynamite felt like shooting off in a rocket, or more like a trillion rockets all shooting off in different directions. It was hot, disorienting, and completely wild. Yet, Matt was still connected, still part of the whole. He could still feel the rest of his cells pulsing in the other sticks of dynamite.
He was connected to the rabbit, too, or its time tapestry. When the dynamite had blown up the tapestry, Matt’s cells attached to its unraveling threads, clinging to them like drops of water on a spider’s web. When he moved his cells through the air, the threads moved with him. He could feel the essence of the rabbit, its existence, its feelings and desires, almost as if he were the rabbit. He pulled all the threads into himself, taking the white rabbit’s existence right along with him.
From above, still invisible, Matt looked down at the rest of the Vermillion. They were all fragmented in his mind’s eye, but he could see that the rabbit had disappeared. The black top hat was empty.
“Crikey!” Brocco said, staring into the hat. “It all disappeared this time, Captain! Just like magic!” He popped the hat onto his head and grinned, his diamond tooth sparkling in the morning light.
The captain was very pleased. “Well done, Mr. Nobel,” he said.
Nobel was scratching his head, clearly confused.
“If it works on the Hudsons,” Captain Vincent said, “you will have your brother back, as promised.”
The Hudsons . . . the name sparked something in Matt, a small thread of memory. He couldn’t quite reach it.
The Vermillion traveled, and Matt went with it. Most of him traveled inside the dynamite, though part of him followed along outside, carrying the unraveled threads of the rabbit’s time tapestry. The travel was chaotic. They seemed to be bouncing throughout time, chasing something or someone. Matt didn’t have much sense for time or place. Captain Vincent used more of the dynamite, and whenever he did, Matt’s cells exploded with it and attached themselves to the unraveling time tapestries.
He was swimming in a sea of glowing threads now, the remnants of those Captain Vincent had unraveled. He did not know who they were, and he was not sure he could take them all with him. He could feel his cells were tiring out. But as he swept through the threads he felt a pull, like some of the threads had a magnetic energy attracted to his own. They wrapped around him, wove themselves into him. He recognized their energy. It was the same as those scraps of time tapestry he’d been carrying. Perhaps they recognized the remnants of themselves.
Matt pulled on those threads. He gathered every last strand, wrapped them in and around himself like a cocoon. It all felt so warm and safe, familiar. By the time he’d gathered it all, he was exhausted. He knew there were more threads, but he couldn’t get it all now. What energy he had left he needed to pull himself back together. Otherwise he feared he might be stuck in his disassembled state forever. So he would have to leave some of the other threads behind, and that meant he needed to leave part of himself behind. He would have to come back to it later.
He traveled back to Sweden, to Jia, and Mr. Nobel, and Marta. Marta must have known what he was going to do, because she seemed to be waiting for him when he returned. She was standing in the middle of the room, looking up toward where he was hovering in his invisible state.
Matt slowly pulled himself together. It was difficult, so much harder than it had been before. It felt like all his cells were moving through a thick gel. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to come back together without letting go of all the threads he’d carried with him.
Don’t let go!
He didn’t let go. He could feel inside these threads the existence of people he needed, people he loved. He clung to them and pulled. It felt like wading neck-deep through a thick swamp, then climbing a sheer cliff. Every cell was trembling with the effort. He was grasping a narrow ledge of the cliff by his fingertips. He felt himself slipping, the threads falling away.
Don’t let go!
He found his grip again. He mustered every last quark of energy in every last cell he possessed. He pulled, and pulled, and pulled. Slowly, slowly his cells went back into their proper order, and as they did, those threads he’d clung to so fiercely began to pull through and separate from him, coiling in glossy strands on the floor. Marta instantly grabbed them and began to weave with impossible speed. It was as though she’d been practicing for this very moment. Her tiny hands flew, tying knots and loops with the iridescent threads. As she worked, Matt felt things changing, like threads were being woven together inside of himself, holes he didn’t even know existed being filled.
As Marta wove, Matt continued to pull himself together, but still he held tight.
