I turn back to Wes, not really sure why I’m telling him all this. It’s not that he puts me at ease. If anything, it’s the complete opposite. But he’s the only one who knows the truth about me. And I feel like I can trust him. He seems serious about wanting to help me—or at least to get me out of here so that I don’t screw up the future.
Wes runs his hand along his jaw as he watches me. “Dean Bentley disappears?”
“Yes. I don’t know why or how, though now I know it has to do with the Montauk Project. But the possibilities are endless.” I start to pace the small room. “He could go on a time travel mission and get lost. God, he could even fall down a flight of stairs in those labs. Maybe it’s time I told him the truth.”
Wes goes stiff. “No, Lydia.” He steps forward and takes hold of my arms. “You cannot tell him. You don’t know what the consequences would be.”
I’m frozen. This is the first time he’s really touched me since he grabbed me in the woods. Only this time my arms are bare and I can feel his skin against mine.
I pull away from his grasp. “Do you know what the consequences would be?”
“No. No one does, that’s the whole point. But if you tell Dean you’re a time traveler, that’s a … huge interference.”
“How do you know? Maybe this is fate. What if I’m supposed to come back here to warn Dean? Maybe we can’t change the future, even if we try.”
His eyes darken, until they look black in the thin light. “Trust me, you can.”
I feel my patience start to wane as I remember that I know nothing about Wes and who he really is. “How do you know that?”
“I … work for the Montauk Project. I know that we can change history because I’ve seen it happen before, and I’ve seen the ramifications, too. You being here is a rift in time, and what you do here will affect everything that happens along our time line.”
I try to work out the logic in my head. “But if history changes, then how can anyone be aware of it? Wouldn’t we all just conform to the new version?”
He turns away and stares at the blank wall above Dean’s bed. “It doesn’t work like that.” When he looks back at me, another mask has fallen over his face. “The minute you got into the TM you stepped outside of time.”
“TM?”
“Tesla’s Machine.”
“Seriously?” I give him a look.
He ignores it. “You don’t exist in the time line right now, and therefore anything that changes within it can’t affect you.”
I push my bangs up off my forehead, thinking hard. “So if I alter history and then go back home, the world could be completely different.”
He takes a step closer to me. “You’d be the only one who knew that something had changed. Your friends and families could have different memories of you. You might be an entirely different person to the world around you, and you’d be playing catch-up with your own life.”
“What if …” I pause, taking a breath. “What if I erase my own existence? What if my parents never meet?”
He tilts his head slightly, watching me carefully. “You wouldn’t stop existing because you’re outside the time line. But if you went back to your time, then no one would know who you were. There would be no record of you ever existing.”
I close my eyes. It’s comforting to know that I can’t erase myself by accident. But is a life without friends or family who remember me, who know me, even worth living?
If I screw this up, if I guess wrong, then everything I know might disappear. Should I just go back with Wes right now?
As hard as I try, I can’t shake the image of my grandfather walking away from me in the rain. I know what he would do in my place. He would try to save his father, regardless of the risks. And I think of Mary. Of Dr. and Mrs. Bentley. They seem so happy now, like such a loving family. Losing Dean won’t rob them of that, but it will change them forever. If I save Dean, then I’d be saving them from that pain.
“Lydia, you can’t tell Dean.” Wes’s voice is firm.
I put my hands up. “I get it. You don’t want me to mess with time. I understand, Wes.”
Even as I say the words, I realize that I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to try to save Dean, regardless of the consequences. I have to believe that changing his history can only improve my family’s future.
“Promise me you won’t talk to him.”
“I promise,” I agree, and I mean it. I can’t see how talking to Dean will help yet anyway. He won’t tell me anything, and I still don’t know what I’m warning him about. I need more information. And there’s only one place left to look.
Unfortunately, it’s also the last place I want to go.
Wes stares at me for a long minute, so long I start to worry that he can tell what I’m thinking. But he just says, “Good,” and then turns to the door. As soon as his back is to me I slip the metal key into the pocket of my skirt. “We need to get you out before the guard wakes up.”
I follow him into the hall. “Won’t he be suspicious that he was knocked out in the first place?”
Wes raises his hand, signaling me to be quiet. He moves silently down the hallway, with the purposeful, quick movements I’ve come to associate with him.
The guard is sprawled on a chair, head lolled to the side. He looks like he’s sleeping. We slip out the front door. The sun is setting and the clouds are pink and purple above the tree line.
As soon as we’re in the middle
