Jackie:

  Gus drove me through the poverty-stricken streets of Twin Flames; abandoned cars rusted from non-use, throngs of homeless in makeshift tents, cracked sidewalks littered with trash, the daily struggle for survival on full display.

  A scruffy man held a sign that read, Trained Doctor Will Work for Food.

  I stared at the Grid to escape the knot forming in my chest, stirred by their hopeless desperation.

  Gus used his DNA Identifier to get through the militarized border into the upscale side of town; the safe side where I grew up this time around.

  The manicured streets lined with stately trees and grand homes were a far cry from the city slums.

  Gus pulled into my mother’s sprawling estate, complete with several lawns of lush green grass, perfumed roses, and splashing fountains wasting the precious water supply.

  Gus parked at the entrance of the mansion, with towering columns, ornate stonework, and expansive windows.

  “Can you stay here and wait?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  I ran up the marble steps and rang the doorbell.

  The butler answered. “Good day, Miss Jackie.”

  “Where is she?” I asked frantically. “Is my mom here?”

  “Miss Grace is indisposed at the moment,” he said coldly.

  “I need to see her. Now.” I barged past him.

  “Look what the cat dragged in,” my mom interrupted from the foyer, tidying flowers in a precious vase. A crystal chandelier scattered daylight like stars across the hardwood floor.

  I ran to Grace and wrapped her in the biggest hug. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

  I inhaled her citrus perfume and remembered everything.

  Even in this timeline, she was absent throughout my life. I loved my mom, but the nannies and boarding schools didn’t exactly help us foster the best relationship.

  Still, not having her in my life at all in the other stream made me suddenly appreciate her immensely. Our relationship was far from perfect, but at least she raised me.

  I held onto our embrace as if it were the last.

  She squirmed under my firm hug, then eased into it. “Is everything okay, Jackie? Why are you barefoot?”

  “I knew we’d find you, Mom. Dad knew we could save you, and he was right. It worked.”

  Grace pulled away and threw me a confused side-eye, so I tried to relax.

  As I let her go, I noticed Grace’s youthful skin glowed, even in her mid-thirties. She looked flawless thanks to Life Rite’s face creams.

  “So, what’s new, Mom?” I tried to say it casually, but it came out so cringe-worthy and awkward.

  “My big fundraising event for the Institute is coming up. Can you believe the Millers haven’t RSVP’d yet?”

  She walked into the sitting room.

  I followed, feigning interest as she yapped about her shallow frenemies.

  “They’ve never supported my interest in researching the Grid.”

  I looked around her spotless, palatial home, often featured in magazines. It looked like a museum, devoid of life, like props on a stage that were never used until this moment.

  Is this another Slipstream simulation?

  I shook off an eerie feeling.

  “Hey, where’s Dad?” I asked, failing miserably to play it cool.

  Grace looked at me, deadpan. “Honey, I don’t know where he is. He left years ago. Do you want me to schedule an appointment for you to see your therapist? You’re acting a little strange.”

  Her answer echoed in my mind. “He left years ago, of course.”

  But he wanted nothing more than her. He’d spent his whole life searching the Slipstream for a solution. There’s no way Zayne would leave her…

  I grabbed her hands, sitting Grace down on the vintage pleated sofa in front of the fireplace. I peered into her deep brown eyes.

  “Mom, I need your help. Firestorm needs our help. He’s stuck in the past, but the future is now.”

  “Are you on drugs again, Jackie?”

  “No. I swear.” I slumped onto the couch, shoulders drooping.

  “Who is Firestorm?”

  “Firestorm is Dad. There’s no way, after all Zayne’s been through in the Slipstream, that he would decide to leave you. Not after all we’ve fought for.”

  Grace’s forehead wrinkled with confusion, which says a lot since it’s been numbed and paralyzed from Life Rite anti-aging products.

  “Besides,” I continued, “he’ll know what to do about the future. It’s being written as we speak… We’ve got to stop Mark from launching those drones. Trust me. Things will not end well with those hovering around. We’re safe for now, but for how long? In the meantime, we’ve got to save the kids in cages.”

  “Jackie, I’m calling your therapist. You can tell me… I’ll try not to judge… Are you using drugs again?”

  I groaned. My family was so dismissive.

  I doubled down. “Mom, stop. I need you to trust me. If I found Dad, would you at least talk to him? Do you still love him?”

  Grace’s eyes widened. “Of course, I still love Zayne, but I’m telling you. Something changed. He was keeping something from me.”

  “I know, but…”

  She politely dabbed her eyes to keep from crying. “He refused to let me in anymore, and a marriage can’t survive with secrets.”

  The Slipstream worked on probabilities, which were determined by who we were and what we focused on. Beatrice understood that deeply. I had to crack its code to save Zayne, Firestorm, my dad.

  “I know how much Zayne loves you. He’d do anything for you.”

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  “I’d do anything for him.” She brushed away a tear that slipped down her cheek.

  “Give him another chance. Please,” I begged.

  Grace and I locked eyes, and she nodded.

  “I’m willing to talk to him. Did he put you up to this?” she asked. “Where is he?”

  “Let’s go back to Bennu Island to find him.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “Anywhere but there, Jackie. I can’t go back there. No, I simply refuse.”

  “I’ll charter the jet.”

  “Jackie, I have my fundraising event coming up. It’s hard to keep the Institute funded without sharing our research openly.”

  “You’ll be back in time, I promise.”

  She crossed her arms. “You know how important the Institute is to me.”

  “What if I call the Miller’s daughter to get their RSVP?”

  She bit her lip. “You’d do that for me?”

  “Consider it done. Pack your bags. The jet leaves in an hour.” I stood and left to make arrangements before Grace refused.

  The butler greeted me in the foyer. “Will you be staying for dinner, Miss Jackie?”

  “No, my mom and I are headed to Bennu Island. Can you book the jet? Gus will take us to the airport in thirty minutes.”

  His face fell. “On such short notice?”

  I patted his shoulder. “Thanks.”

  Bounding up the grand staircase, I walked to my old room to gather some things. I hadn’t returned since I moved into my high-rise apartment to be closer to Life Rite.

  I examined the blush-pink walls, the oversized rug covering the hardwood, and my statement chandelier.

  “I can’t believe this is all mine.” I lay on my tufted bed, running my hands over the high-thread-count linens.

  It was the complete opposite of my tiny bunk bed on Wright Road, my space overrun by roommates.

  When I stood, a sharp twinge shot through my ankle, still hurting from that insane jump at Life Rite.

  I limped over to my walk-in closet with designer shoes and handbags lined up like trophies. I recalled my one pair of shoes while living as a Duster.

  “Climbers don’t want more for the sake of it. They just want enough,” I mumbled, torn between two extremes. My identity fractured between timelines as I vowed to fix what was broken.

  An hour later, we embarked on the long trip to Bennu Island via private jet. Being a Claudi had endless perks.

  Grace sat in the window seat in the row nearest the cockpit. “Did the Millers confirm?”

  “They’ll be there,” I lied, making a mental note to call their daughter later.

  “Good.” She closed her window shade and pulled an eye mask from her purse. “I forgot to pack my favorite sandals. Bummer.”

  A flight attendant greeted us. “Good evening. We’ll be leaving in a few moments. It’s time to create the flight log. DNA Identifier please.”

  Grace scanned her finger without removing her mask. “My father’s legacy follows me wherever I go.”

  The flight attendant moved toward me next. “DNA Identifier please.”

  After scanning me, they served hot towels.

  Wiping my face, I settled into the seat next to Grace. “Mom, can we talk about something important?”

  “Not now, dear. I have a headache and need my beauty sleep.”

  “Mom, please.”

  “Later, honey.” She turned toward the window, leaving me to stew.

  Even though she raised me in this timeline, the desire to connect with my mom still gnawed at me.

  How can I break down her impenetrable walls?

  The flight to Bennu was exhausting and dull, especially with the lack of conversation.

  Once in the tropics, we took a rickety boat to get onto Bennu Island.

  “Can we talk now?” I asked.

  Grace rubbed her temples. “It’s been a long flight, and I have a lot on my mind. Let’s talk over dinner.”

  An elderly Tinga met us at the dock and drove us to the Camp Claudi complex in a golf cart.

  He didn’t know me, but I was privy to his plight. I knew how he had lost his eye and got that deep scar on his face.

  The secrets from the other probability weighed heavily on my shoulders. I wanted to tell Tinga that a Bennu bird did not attack his son, but telling him what Life Rite did would only cause more trouble, so I kept that dark secret to myself.

  As we approached the industrial complex, Beatrice’s castle tower presented itself, half-finished. Mark gave up on the project after she refused the treatment.

  The island was in disrepair, lacking the investment and attention it once had.

  Tinga scanned his DNA Identifier to open the barbed wire fence.

  I recalled the villagers who had died on that fence while storming the complex in a parallel life.

  Grace smacked a bug, killing it against her skin. “I hate this place.”

  “But Mom, this is where you met Dad.”

  “Yeah, well… it’s also where we buried my mother,” she murmured.

  Our mutual yearning to see Beatrice connected us in a moment of silence.

  “What’s this place used for now?” I asked, trying to make small talk.

  “Manufacturing and shipping,” Grace said coldly as we pulled up to the entrance of the complex. “Don’t act stupid, Jackie. Aren’t you a junior executive now? That’s a nice title my father handed you.”

  “Ouch. That hurt.”

  “You’re a big girl. You can handle the truth.” Grace wiped sweat from her brow.

  The humidity was suffocating.

  Grace’s biting remark served as another reminder of my childhood in this timeline. She didn’t start talking down to me until after Dad left. Maybe once they reunited, she wouldn’t project her miserable emotions onto me anymore.

  Tinga stopped the golf cart at the foot of the looming industrial monolith. He grabbed our luggage and started up the complex’s concrete steps.

  Grace followed, but I grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the forest instead.

  “What now, Jackie?”

  “Come on. Let’s go this way.”

  “Why? I want to freshen up.”

  I pulled her toward the forest.

  “What are you up to, Jackie? You’re acting so weird.”

  “Just come.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see. Trust is the glue that holds families together, right?”

  Grace sighed.

  We walked through the thick brush, luckily both wearing sneakers. We knew this place called for casual wear.

  I preferred that to the tight dresses that made me look important in the halls of Life Rite, anyway. I always felt like I was playing a role, never comfortable in my skin as a Claudi.

  Now I understand why.

  “This place is the annex of hell,” Grace complained as we trudged through the woods, vines twisting around ancient tree trunks.

  “You’ll thank me later.” I breathed in the scent of wildflowers as leaves crunched beneath my feet.

  Despite not having spent much time here as a child, I knew the way back to the resilient people who protected the bounty of this sacred place.

  Up the path, past the stream, we eventually reached the village gates. Small houses lined the grassy knoll. Children ran around a group of women that practiced Ni Cree. They wore beautiful clothes made from Bennu bird skin.

  At the edge of the village, two men wearing dirty long-sleeved shirts tossed a pile of Bennu eggs into a reaping machine, despite the heat.

  One man turned and squinted at us. Recognition filled his aged face even though we hadn’t seen each other in years.

  “Dad!” I ran to him.

  Zayne was fit, with shaggy black hair, exactly how I remembered him. Light wrinkles hugged his dark eyes. The dirt under his fingernails glowed green from the Bennu eggs he harvested.

  Most importantly, he hadn’t mutated into Firestorm.

  “Jackie, my girl. What are you doing here?”

  I sunk into his tight embrace.

  He whispered, “Why’s Grace here?”

  My mother sauntered over, stopping several feet away. “Hello, Zayne.”

  He smiled. “Grace… you look amazing, always.”

  “You as well.”

  A long, awkward pause followed their trite greetings. They weren’t going to make this easy. I would have to facilitate their communication.

  Instead of beating around the bush, I went for the jugular.

  “What happened between you two? You’re both acting like idiots.”

  “Jackie, don’t speak to Mother that way.” Zayne always protected Grace, no matter what.

  I grabbed Zayne’s hand, walking him closer to Grace. “Fine. Whatever. Everything can still work out. Dad, you haven’t morphed into Firestorm yet and…”

  He cut me off. “What did you say?”

  “You’re… you’re… human.”

  “What you talking about?” he snapped.

  “She’s been talking nonsense the whole way here,” Grace added. “And your English needs practice, dear.”

  Zayne rolled his eyes.

  My frustration boiled. My parents were impossible, acting like we hadn’t battled our way through the Slipstream to save their impossible, forbidden love story.

  “Listen. Sure, I sound crazy, but…” I remembered a clue to help them understand. “Come with me. I have something important to show you both.”