"Shut up." Muldoon whipped the gun away from Cade andpointed it at Horton.
A single tear left Cade's eye and skidded across the blood andbruises on his stoic face. "You must...go to her."
"Irena, right? You're talking about Irena? My wife?" Muldoon's words poured out in a rush."You know where she is—when she is?"
The pale lips worked. The throat wheezed, rasping air into speech withgreat effort. "She was...in your office.She...saw you...dead."
Two thoughts converged in Muldoon's mind: No woman should seeher husband like that. And at the same time: Twenty years ago—that'swhen I was killed in this reality. That's how far back I need to go.
"Twenty years in the past." He looked into the albino'seyes. "Right?"
Cade's brow furrowed. "No. She...has theprototype."
Muldoon frowned. The prototype. The BackTracker device that cameto him in a battered manila envelope. The one he'd left for his younger selfafter making the mistakes that erased his wife from existence.
How did she get hold of the prototype?
"I...destroyed the others. Left her with...theprototype." Cade exhaled a long gasp. It could have been a death rattle.
"Now you've gone and done it," Younger Horton snapped,elbowing his way past Muldoon despite the gun he brandished. "I'm sealinghim up again, and this time there won't be any half-assed interruptions! Gotit, cowboy?"
Muldoon backed away, staring into the SYN's eyes.They stared back with one last message.
"Point of...origin," Cade rasped. "As close toyou...as she can be."
Horton swung the glass door shut and left it to lock into place,his gnarled hands flying across the control console in a calculated frenzy. Thealbino's eyes held Muldoon a moment longer before they lost consciousness.
Point of origin. The prototype. It could mean only onething.
Muldoon brought the butt of his revolver down hard on the back ofHorton's head. With a meaty crack and a flaccid groan, the old man slumped tothe floor.
"You." Muldoon pointed the muzzle at Elder Horton andreached down to dig through Younger Horton's pocket. He pulled out the blackwristwatch. "Get over here and takehis place. You know what to do, right?"
Elder Horton nodded warily. He stepped forward to assume hisyounger self's position at the console.
"Make sure he lives." Muldoon snapped on the wristwatchwith practiced ease. Then he stared down at it, suddenly lost.
"Sure you want that?" Horton gestured at Cade, comatosebehind the chamber door. "He did kill you, after all. Who's to say hewon't try again?"
Muldoon blinked, returning to the moment. "I don't thinkso."
"You trust him?"
"More than you."
Muldoon hesitated, fingers hovering over the square screen of theBackTracker. Then he clenched his jaw. His fingers did the rest, setting thedevice with a deft familiarity.
"So, you're going back." Horton turned from the console.
The maturation chamber had resumed its rejuvenation process. Byall appearances, both the man and the woman would be all righteventually—barring any more interruptions.
"Yeah." The BackTracker was ready to go. Soon the chimeswould start ringing, and the countdown would begin. Just like old times."What about you?"
Horton smiled, wrinkling up every crease in his face.
"Haven't decided yet." He held up his own narrow wristand shook the loose wristwatch on it. "The prudent choice would be todestroy this thing. It's caused me nothing but trouble, that's for sure. Not tomention the rest of the world. You know that psychosis you had going on therefor a while? Not knowing which end was up, so to speak?" He returnedMuldoon's nod. "Well, that was only the beginning. If the realities hadn'tstarted twining, everybody—in both worlds—would have started losingtheir minds. Things would have gotten real ugly, real fast. Trust me. Beenthere, lived through that."
Muldoon narrowed his gaze. "This twining. Thestrands of the cord are coming back together?"
"So to speak."
"How do we know which reality will end up on top?"
Horton smiled faintly. "Which one will dominate, you mean? Noway to tell, I'm afraid. As the realities twine, your awareness of who you areand where you are will coalesce, leaving the alternate forgotten, left behind,as if it never existed. We could find ourselves in a state of flux for a while,with both realities exerting themselves. The Pit could become The Pearl couldbecome The Pit again. Even the dead might come back to life—like Schrödinger'scat, they could be alive and dead at the same time. Pretty trippy, huh! Whichworld would you prefer, Harry?"
Muldoon couldn't answer that. His first thought was the worldwhere Irena was still alive, but this reality as a whole seemed like acomplete nightmare.
"It might be a cocktail of the two," Horton offered."You know, with elements from both realities juxtaposed. Reeves could bethe mayor, like in your reality, but The Pit could be the popular night spotinstead of The Pearl. You and your wife could both be dead. Or alive.Fifty-fifty chance. Bloodthirsty freaksunderground? Blackshirts ruling the night? Who knows? A lot of things won't bethe same, that's for sure. Hell, I might not even exist when you getback!" He chuckled heartily. "Oh, shoot. I really crack myself upsometimes." He wiped a tear from one eye as he sobered up."Regardless, Harry, we've done it. We've saved the world. Which shouldcome as no real surprise, I guess. We are superheroes, after all.BackTrackers."
Not anymore. Muldoon glanced down at the watch face. Thecountdown had begun. The first chime rang out.
Hortonexhaled, rubbing his hands together in what lookedlike delighted satisfaction. "The loose ends are all tied up. No morestretching the fabric of space-time, no more frigid wormholes. That's all inthe past." He paused. "You know what? The more I think about it, themore I'm inclined to just stay here. See howthings play out from this end. Maybe try to teach my younger self a thing ortwo."
Younger self.
"The boy." Muldoon had nearly forgotten.
"Don't you worry about him. Went through a rough spell herein his own future—just about exploded his brains out his ears. The future cando that, you know. Nobody can live ahead of themselves in their own realitywithout physiological consequences. Messes up the brain! But he's got a goodfellow looking out for him. He'll be all right." He smiled warmly."Now you've got just one person to take care of, and she's waiting foryou, son. Waiting for you to bring
