Un2talented (Book 3 of the Un2 Series)

“Am I allowed to adjust the mirrors?” Dorian asked from behind the steering wheel. “What about the seat? Can I move it up?”

“Go ahead,” Cate replied. “He’s going to be spitting fire once you spoil his plans. Readjusting the seat and mirrors would be a pebble in his shoe compared to everything else.”

Dorian scanned the Aquamino’s front seat. “Safety belts?”

“Nope.”

“That’s a bit dangerous, don’t you think?”

“They were only lap straps. They wouldn’t help much considering you’ll be traveling at years per second not miles per hour.”

“The disregard for safety is remarkable down here.” Dorian shook his head.

“There’s not a great deal of concern about one’s well-being when you’re virtually indestructible. That reminds us, keep all extremities inside the vehicle while you are in motion unless you are virtually indestructible. Better yet, keep the windows closed. You don’t want any uninvited passengers tagging along.”

“Uninvited passengers?”

“Dorian, we’re in a space that is sublet from the underworld. You never know who or what may be trying to find its way to the surface. Just keep the windows up and keep driving.”

Dorian rolled up the driver’s side window and slid the rear window shut. Cate nodded in approval.

“Any last words before I do . . . whatever?” Dorian called through the remaining open window.

“Skills before sword. It’s okay to run away. Come back in one piece.”

“That’s the plan!” Dorian replied and then rolled up the window.

Dorian found the quiet that permeated the car’s interior was both suffocating and comforting. He felt isolated and very much on his own. He took a final look at Cate and gave her a thumbs-up, which she appeared to return but it was hard for Dorian to distinguish a thumb on her paw. He depressed the brake pedal and shifted the car into reverse. He turned to look out the rear window, swallowed hard, and then slammed his foot on the gas pedal.

Dorian was expecting a jolt of pain. A couple of times in his life he had experienced the sharp point of a tortilla chip stabbing into and breaking off between his gums and one of his teeth. He had also undergone the childhood ritual of shredding the roof of his mouth using spoonfuls of a nautical-themed breakfast cereal. He wasn’t expecting his entire being to feel as if those two experiences were combined and applied as liberally as a teenage boy applies body spray.

Dorian turned his attention to the odometer. The years clicked by one per second meaning he had to endure this torture for twenty more seconds. A pressure rose at the base of his skull that pushed through his sinuses and into the backs of his eyes. He focused all his energy on keeping his hands on the steering wheel and his arms locked. As a final release, he screamed as the final few years clicked past his existence. As he sped past the time of his birth, his body pulled free of the Chronostream like a boot being freed from ankle-deep mud. His body tingled with a minty freshness. It was as if the cosmos knew he would need a slathering of sports rub to recover from the half-minute of misery he had just endured. He felt good, in fact, he felt great.

The Aquamino’s spinning wheels sprayed the waters of the past across the windows toward the hood. The car rocked in the turbulence. He turned to view what lay behind him. Despite the jostling he was taking, his surroundings remained static. He returned his view to the front and looked out into the grand hall. There was a similar stillness apart from the diminishing layers of architecture as he traveled backward through time. He wondered who added the elements and if they did it willingly or did Chronos have slaves. He wondered if whoever they were could see him sitting in the Aquamino as he moved through their lifestream. He was moving backward in time; they were moving forward. Maybe that made it impossible for them to see each other.

Decades clicked by. Dorian was certain that he saw some tie-dyed tapestries and beaded curtains for a few seconds before they transitioned into atomic starbursts and boomerangs. Curves gave way to angles. Laminates and plastics were discarded for real wood and gleaming metal. Ornate became simple and then ornate once again. The choppiness of transitions made it feel as if Dorian was thumbing through a giant flipbook of decorating styles. By the time the odometer hit sixteen hundred Dorian wasn’t noticing any negligible changes to his surroundings. To him, the great hall now looked like every Greek temple he had seen in a world history textbook.

“Ugh, another minute and a half to go!”

Dorian quickly realized how ridiculous it was for him to moan about how long time travel was taking. Then, panic washed over him when he realized that he had been so focused on getting to Cadence that he hadn’t formulated a plan for saving her. Now, Dorian wished that he had more time. He eased up on the accelerator and the Aquamino’s odometer slowed.

“Think, Dorian, think,” he urged himself. “Charlie and DeLeon are expecting me to be wearing the armor. DeLeon knows that he will need to defeat me in a battle to win control of the armor. I’ll need the means to distract him long enough for Cadence to make it back through the gazebo and make a dash for the Aquamino. Once she’s through the portal I’ll dive through the . . . “

Dorian felt a cold sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Why did I allow Griffin to borrow the armor? To be fair, I didn’t exactly allow him to do anything. He beat me fair and square. And what could I do even if I did have it? Hitting the reset would just send me and Cadence to a point in time where she was already being held by Charlie. I am absolutely the wrong guy for this mission!”

Dorian felt that twinge that happens right before his eyes begin to well up. He pushed the urge back.

“The good guys usually win, right? I sure hope I’m the good guy.”

Dorian slammed the accelerator to the floor.