Fifteen seconds.
Rad looked at Mr Grieves, but all the agent did was take off his hat and shake his head, like he’d just lost a bet on his favorite baseball team.
Ten seconds.
Rad looked at Soma Street. It was dark and cold but it was home. Rad missed it.
Five seconds.
FIFTY-FOUR
Kane pushed himself up from the floor. As he moved, the lines of power connecting him to Evelyn snapped tight, sending white-hot pain flickering across his whole body. He gritted his teeth, focused on the pain, concentrated on the tugging sensation at the base of his spine.
The power of the Fissure, the power he had nearly exhausted defending his friends in the Empire State — it was here, now, in this room, in the portal to his home city open behind him and in the wraith floating in the air in front of him. And she was falling, slipping away from the world.
Kane reached out towards her. He understood the power, understood how to control it, to make it his, to wield the blue light of the gap between universes, shaping it, molding it for his own use. He had disturbed the balance, coming here; he was an unexpected guest, a future she could not see. Because they were alike, the two of them. No longer people, just parts of the Fissure, two sides of the same coin.
Kane summoned his strength, pulling energy from the window to Soma Street, pulling energy from Evelyn McHale’s quantum event horizon. It was like flying in the air above Grand Central, as easy as pie.
But he needed more, a lot more. Evelyn did too, but she was going to kill millions of people to do it, just to stay in the world, a place she didn’t even want to be.
There was another way.
Kane stood and Evelyn screamed. He saw fear on her face, desperate and cold and black; it was bottomless despair, the expression of the damned.
He turned, and saw Rad and Mr Grieves and Captain Nimrod, frozen in time.
No, not frozen. Time moved on, but Kane had sidestepped it, jumping off the track. Kane had all the time in the world, the countdown to destruction paused at four seconds forever.
Kane looked into the workings of the fusor reactors that powered the army. Despite his being outside of time there was still movement within, the quantum states of the subatomic particles flipping back and forth, back and forth, like they couldn’t quite decide which state was best. It was the Fissure and the two universes, the Pocket and the Origin, slammed together in the underground chamber, Kane knew that. Each universe was incompatible with the other, not enough for anything cataclysmic, but enough to make things difficult.
Kane cancelled the countdown and stepped back into the time track. The fusor reactor in each robot flashed white and then the red spinning power within was slower, calmer, duller.
One.
The countdown clock clacked to zero, and stopped. There was no explosion, no atomic end of New York. The torus reactor hummed, and the robots stayed exactly where they were.
Evelyn flickered and she wasn’t quite there, not anymore. Kane watched her face, watched the fear. Then the factory flared blue as he was pulled by her gravity back out of time, into the interstitial nothingness.
None of this was her fault. She hadn’t wanted to come back. All she’d wanted to do was die, properly, the pain of existence too much. But now she had slipped and was scrambling to get hold once more, and she couldn’t.
Kane was falling too, slipping away from time and space, dragged down by her. He’d used up what energy he could tap in the room. There was no more. And with the countdown stopped, there would be no more for Evelyn either. Together they would fall, forever.
Kane took a step forward. It was harder than he expected. His event horizon was locked to Evelyn’s as they sank down through the foundations of space/time together into a dark place without end. Her eyes were on his, and she didn’t move, couldn’t move. She faded again, and Kane felt the pain in his spine.
She didn’t deserve her fate, and Kane didn’t want to join her, but he needed help. Perhaps there was some power left, some scrap to cling to, something he could use or direct.
A plan formed in his mind. A desperate one, one that he wasn’t sure was even possible. But he had to try.
Kane reached out, his mind brushing another. A person he could trust, who would do his all, his level best, Kane knew. And Kane smiled.
“Rad?”
“Kane,” said the detective behind him. “I… what’s going on?”
Kane shook his head, keeping his eyes on Evelyn. “I need your help, old buddy. We don’t have much time. I need power.”
“I don’t understand. Where are we? Everything’s, ah, blue.”
Kane kept his voice level, and he spoke slowly and clearly. The countdown to atomic annihilation might have stopped, but Kane and Evelyn were teetering on the edge of oblivion.
“We’re in the factory. I’ve pulled you sideways out of time. I need your help. I’ve given you a little of the Fissure’s power, but I need more. Much more. Evelyn and I are locked together. I can’t do it on my own.”
“Where’s Byron?”
A beat. “Byron is gone.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“Just gone,” said Kane. “Rad, I need your help here.”
Rad stepped forward slowly until he was level with Kane. Kane glanced sideways at him, and saw Rad with his hands in front of his face, looking them over as a moving blue aura crackled around them. Rad’s eyes were wide as he looked at his friend. “OK. Tell me what to do.”
Kane managed a weak smile. Then he slid to his knees. With some of the Fissure’s power syphoned over to Rad, the pain running down his back was brutal, white-hot. The fall was imminent.
“Elektro,” Kane said, and from behind Evelyn the metal man stepped out, red eyes rolling. A whining came from its voice unit, like a radio stuck between stations. “The robot, Rad. Take the fusor and give it to me.”
Rad stared at the robot, then at his hands.
“Kane, I-”
“Trust me, Rad! Do it!” Kane collapsed onto the floor.
He watched as Rad rolled his shoulders and walked towards Elektro, hands outstretched. The robot backed away, but the movement was jerky, like it was pulling against something. Then Rad was standing in front of the machine, the top of his hat coming not quite to the robot’s chin.
The fusor spun lazily in Elektro’s chest, the red light mixing with the blue glow of the room outside of time. Rad reached forward, his hands almost touching the robot’s chest.
Elektro was fast. Rad cried out as both wrists were gripped by the robot’s massive metal hands. Elektro leaned forward, forcing Rad to his knees. Rad cried out again, his face contorted in agony.
“You’re gonna have to do better than that, friend,” said Elektro. It pushed again, and Rad moaned as he was released. The detective toppled sideways to the floor as the robot straightened up and turned to Kane.
Kane shuddered, the pain too much, and the factory flickered into monochrome as he fell through the gap between now and now and returned to the world. The hum of the torus reactor seemed as loud as a hurricane and the footsteps of Elektro like collapsing mountains as it strode towards him.
A blurry shape flashed an inch past Kane’s face, something dark green and flowing, a woman in a long coat, her tall black boots shining beneath the tails, her golden face reflecting the glow of Elektro’s red eyes.
The robot stopped but Jennifer didn’t pause. She powered towards the machine, pulling back her right arm like she was about to loose an arrow.
“I picked this up from a friend,” she said. “Sometimes a punch can save the world.”
Her fist connected with Elektro’s jaw and kept going, tearing the steel apart and turning the robot’s head into a twisted clump of scrap metal. Elektro whined from somewhere inside his torso, as loud as a jet engine, and fell backwards to the floor. Jennifer straddled the machine’s frame as it twitched on the ground; reaching down, she yanked the chest plate off and pulled the fusor reactor out.