Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(80)

“Then where is he?”

Ralph shrugged. “He went missing in action in ’88.”

For some reason, it seemed important that she know where he was. Something else was absent, something blue with legs, but she had no idea how to ask Ralph that question.

A beep sounded at the door; a moment later, Morrisey entered. He hadn’t waited for her to give him permission, which was unusual.

Ralph was instantly on his feet. “Gotta go,” he said, clearly uneasy at being in the same room with the man.

The moment the door whooshed closed behind her friend, she spoke up. “Is something wrong?”

Morrisey shook his head. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I have just received permission for one of your family members to visit you from Off-Grid.”

“Off-Grid,” she repeated to herself, rummaging through her mental filing cabinets.

“It’s a place where people go to live if they don’t like the rigid lifestyle required by the Government,” Morrisey explained. “Once you’re outside society, you stay out.”



She tried to remember why her family was out there. When she couldn’t retrieve the answer, she put it to Morrisey.

“From what I gather, they went voluntarily,” he informed her. “Some people do that for political reasons.”

That didn’t sound right.

“I have petitioned for this visit since the moment you returned,” he continued. “There has been considerable…resistance against this.” Morrisey paused for a moment. “It’s your brother.”

“Brother?” Cynda shivered involuntarily. “I don’t want to see him! He tried to kill me. Threw me into the Thames and…” She paused, dismayed. “That wasn’t him, was it?”

“No,” he said, looking relieved. “Your brother doesn’t time travel.”

Another stray memory. She blew out a stream of air. “His name is…”

“Blair.”

Cynda nodded her thanks. “Why not my mom or dad?” she asked, suddenly skeptical.

“I gather your mother has not been well, and your father didn’t want to return without her.”

That doesn’t sound good.

Morrisey leaned toward the computer. A moment later, a family photograph appeared. Her mother, father, brother and her. All smiling. Before everything had changed.

Blair. As she studied her brother’s face, emotions began flooding back with an intensity that nearly overwhelmed her.

Morrisey cleared his throat. “From what Mr. Hamilton says, you dislike your brother intensely, and I gather the feeling is mutual. If you don’t want to see him, I’ll not finalize the arrangements. I would, however, counsel the opposite course.”

“I…”

Just how much effort had it taken for Morrisey to do this? He’d said he’d been working on this since she’d first come back. Months now.

“How much does he know?” she asked.

“That you sustained a head injury. I didn’t reveal the exact nature of how that happened, and it’s probably best that they not know that.”



What would it hurt? She’d endure this for Theo Morrisey, though it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“Okay, I’ll do it. I haven’t annoyed…” A sigh. She couldn’t remember the name, though she’d just heard it. “…in a long time.”

“Thank you.”

~??~??~??~



She could have met Blair in the privacy of her rooms. Instead, Cynda chose the pagoda, right out in the open where anyone could see them. Perhaps it was some juvenile payback, though she wasn’t particularly sure why she felt the need. Neither of them were kids anymore.

“Cynder?” her brother called from the walkway. She’d forgotten his pet name for her. He was taller than she was, his hair a bit darker. His muscles were corded, like someone accustomed to physical labor.

“Hi…Blair.” She waved him over. Mumbling under his breath, he ditched his shoes and crossed the sand. Once on the platform he stared at one of the pillows, then pushed it aside with his foot.

He’s going to regret that.

He went somber as he sat down on the hard wood. “Been a while.”

“Yeah. What’s wrong with Mom?”

“She fell and broke her hip about the same time that you got hurt. It’s healing, but very slowly. Right now, she’s using a cane to get around.”

Cynda didn’t know what to say.

Her silence forced her brother to speak. “I know, if she hadn’t been Off-Grid, she’d be fine now. You’re thinking it, you might as well say it.”

From what Morrisey had told her, Off-Grid meant primitive medical facilities, if they existed at all. If her father hadn’t been a doctor, her mother might not be alive.

“Why did you go out there?” she asked.



He shook his head. “You mean, why was I sent out there?”

“Sent?”

“I told you I went voluntarily. I lied.” He looked down. “I nailed one of those little fascist CopBots. I’d been drinking, and when it started harassing some kid flying a kite, I smashed the thing into lots of little pieces. Then another showed up and I nailed that one, too. They really pissed me off.”