Wes looks up at a clock on the wall. “If we want to meet Althea in the TM chamber, we need to go now.”
“Should we hide his blood?” I glance around the room and see a lab coat resting on one of the chairs in front of the desk.
I grab it as Wes lifts the doctor up. He’s a short man, but heavy, with thick arms and a rounded stomach. We shove him into the new lab coat, keeping the thick handkerchief pressed against the wound in case it starts to bleed again. It makes him look like he has a slight growth on his shoulder, but all we need to do is get him to the TM chamber without anyone noticing.
Dr. Faust groans and leans heavily on Wes, who winces under his weight. I pull out the gun and point it at him. “Stop being so dramatic. You can walk. You weren’t shot in the leg.”
As soon as he sees the weapon, he stands up straighter.
I hand the notebook and the folder over to Wes. He takes them, then reaches down and grabs the open journal off Faust’s desk, a few drops of blood already drying on the pages. “We can’t leave this here either. Who knows what’s in it.”
I press the gun into Faust’s side and lead him to the door. “You’re going to be really quiet, or I’m going to shoot you. And I won’t miss like Althea did.”
“What are you doing with me?” The fear is back in his voice.
“We’re going to send you into the past.” I push him forward. “Just like you tried to do with Dean Bentley.”
“Tried? He didn’t end up there?”
I don’t answer.
“And you, how did you make it out?” He looks over at Wes. “Your blood was on the floor of the chamber.”
“Stop asking questions,” Wes growls. “If you’re quiet, we won’t kill you. It’s that simple.”
The doctor presses his pale, thin lips together. I hide the gun in the folds of his lab coat, prod him in the back, and we slowly walk out of the room.
We turn another corner, and I hold my breath, only letting it out when I see that the hallway in front of us is empty. I keep my head down, the butt of the gun jammed into the doctor’s side. He winces with each step he takes. Wes is behind us, ready to act if Faust tries anything.
“You won’t get away with this,” the doctor whispers.
“That’s such a cliché,” I respond softly. “Now be quiet.”
We reach the end of the corridor. We are so close to the TM chamber, only a few feet away. If we can just make it around this corner—
“Doctor!” The shout comes from behind us. I slowly turn, guiding Faust’s body.
A younger scientist with white-blond hair is running down the hall. He reaches us and bends over, breathing heavily. “I’ve been looking for you,” he gasps. “But you weren’t in your office. I have the results of the new serum. We were up all night testing it, and it seems to be working.”
“Incredible,” Faust breathes. “Did the subject make it through alive?” He jerks forward, and I dig the gun into his back in a silent warning.
“We’re still waiting, but so far his body has not rejected it. We’ll test it on the TM if the results are positive.”
Wes shifts so he’s standing in front of us, blocking Faust as much as he can without looking suspicious.
This is taking too long. I push the gun into Dr. Faust’s back and he hisses under his breath.
The scientist narrows his blue eyes. “Are you all right?” He looks from Wes to me, taking in our black uniforms, our grim expressions. “Who are these people?”
I tense. If Faust says the wrong thing then I’ll have to kill both him and this scientist. This is not the same as handing Sardosky a drink. This is blood and bullets and staring into their eyes as they die. But there’s too much at stake not to pull the trigger.
“They are new subjects,” Faust answers. “I am bringing them to the TM.”
The blond scientist’s expression turns assessing, and he appraises us like we’re cattle. “Are you sending them through now? Should I come help?”
“There is no time for that now. The serum is more important.”
“Of course. I’ll bring you an update as soon as I can.” He turns to leave.
My muscles finally loosen. Wes takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.
“Dr. Roberts!” Faust yells suddenly, stopping the younger scientist in his tracks.
“What are you doing?” I whisper urgently.
His voice changes, deepens, his accent thicker as he says, “There’s a sliver in my foot.”
The blond man’s eyes widen, then he turns and takes off down the hallway, disappearing from sight.
“Shit, it was a code.” Wes moves to run after him, then looks back, clearly not wanting to leave me alone with Faust.
“Let him go,” I say quickly. “We don’t have much time. We can barricade the door and fight our way out after we set the timers.”
He looks doubtful, but turns with me and grabs Faust’s arm. We don’t bother to be subtle as we sprint with him down the hallway. When we reach the door of the TM chamber, Wes shoves it open, pushing Faust through first. He stumbles and falls to his knees on the floor.
Althea crawls out from under one of the desks. “Where have you been?”
“We’ve been made.” Wes runs toward her. “Help me block the door.”
Althea jams a chair under the knob, while Wes sweeps pencils, paper, and a telegraph machine off one of the desks. They each grab an end, drag it to the door, and shove it up against the chair.
I point the gun at Faust, still lying on his side, one hand pressed to the bullet wound in his chest. “What happened to keeping quiet?”
He lifts his uninjured shoulder. “What was the risk? You’re going to kill me anyway.”
“We’re not going to
