Die Back Page 16

  "How am I supposed to find an Inker, if I can't access the system?"

  A woman's voice replied. "Please describe the nature of your issue."

  Voice commands. Okay. I can do this.

  "How do I find the current location of an Inker?"

  "Please state the Inker code name."

  "Jules. Uh, I mean Memento."

  The globe spun around, zooming in on a flashing point in Peru. Why Peru? A translucent screen rose from the center console table with images of Peru and Incan architecture. The system's voice calmly droned.

  "Unauthorized inking by Memento aka Jules McCullough into Kushirimay, wife of Emperor Atawallpa, October 1532. Present-side agent deceased. Mission in progress."

  "Can you give me the date Jules– I mean Memento–inked Kushirimay?"

  "Mission in progress. Precise dating requires validation."

  Not much to go on. But why Peru? Whoever killed her, stole her pen. Jules must have used her last moments to ink away. But why sixteenth-century Peru? He found a database with historical documents from the original continuum flagged for review. Jules must have looked at this last night. The Spanish conquistador, Pizarro, landed in Peru with one hundred sixty men, some horses, cannon and other weapons. On November 16, 1532 he set a trap for the Inca Emperor Atawallpa at Cajamarca, killing over fifteen hundred Inca warriors, and holding the Emperor hostage. Atawallpa bargained for his freedom by filling a room with over twenty-four tons of silver and gold. However, once Pizarro had the precious metals and an alliance with an emperor wannabe, he garroted Atawallpa, and continued on a conquest of the Inca Empire, which crumbled under both Spanish sword and the pox.

  Touching a flashing, red light located to the right of the screen, an alternative history unfolded to Addison. A history from the current time continuum outside of the Tempos Refúgium's protection. In this world, the Spanish came to Peru, but Atawallpa completely destroyed Pizarro's band, as well as every subsequent European invader. The Inca Empire increased in power and size, building on an uncanny ability to develop cutting-edge technology years ahead of any potential enemy.

  He continued his scan of the database and found a connection to the Wright Brothers. In the original continuum, powered flight didn't happen until 1903 when the two bicycle mechanics flew at Kitty Hawk. But in the new continuum, European and Asian historians recorded rumors of Inca airpower as far back as the sixteenth century.

  Is it possible the Inker we ran into at Fort Meyer in 1908 was part of a larger plot to move advanced technology to the Inca Empire?

  He would have gone to Peru just to find Jules. But now he knew Peru held the key to the time continuum shift. He would ink Francisco Pizarro, find Jules somewhere in Peru, and together they would determine the cause of the anomaly and do whatever it took to make things right again. Everything he wanted, Jules, Nikki, the end of this anomaly, all pointed to one place: Peru.

  Addison descended the ladder to the Tempos Refúgium. He picked up Renascentia. "I will find you Jules. I will bring you home." He put his pen to paper.

  Francisco Pizarro

  October 18, 1532

  ***

  I try to sleep, but my host, Kushirimay, keeps haunting me. I've been walking this steep mountain path for days, living off dried potatoes and meat—chuño and charqui, hoping I didn't make a wrong turn. No GPS for Jules. The land becomes increasingly arid, so I must be getting close to the coast. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was wandering the arroyos and deserts of Arizona or New Mexico. Even though I'm feeling a bit lost, I keep moving down the path. Pizarro's got to be coming this way. He must.

  The next morning, I hear the men before I see them, which gives me time to scurry behind an outcropping of cacti fifty yards away. They stomp through the brush with enormous llamas taller than a man. What are these beasts? Horses. Come on Jules, stay ahead of this girl. The men speak Spanish. I've found them.

  I spend most of the day following, hidden, waiting for my moment to speak with Pizarro, with Addy. Late in the afternoon, they make camp, several days from Atawallpa's force of thousands. Their horses hobbled, smoke drifts from a number of fires spread across their camp. From my hidden vantage point in dense brush, I see the man who must be Pizarro. He is tall, bearded, and wearing steel armor with a sword at his side. It's pointless to wait any longer. Addy has either inked Pizarro or I'm dead anyway.

  I step into a clearing, unnoticed at first. The zing of a sword drawn from its scabbard startles me. Large, powerful hands grab me from behind, lifting me. His accomplice leans into me, the man's putrid, hot breath making me gag, my feet dangling in the air.

  God, I wish I had taken Spanish in school. Instead I'm left with Kushirimay's Incan tongue of Quechua, English and some German. Something tells me 'Ich komme in Frieden' won't cut it. I try English.

  "Addy! Addison!"

  The man behind me has pinned my arms behind my back, while the other rests the point of his doubled-edged blade at my throat. He says something I don't understand, and sheathes his sword. Am I safe? But my arms remain pinned. The man in front of me grabs my head, moving into me. His body odor so pungent, vomit comes up my throat. He pulls away, and backhands me across the face. Pain explodes in my head, blood dribbling from a split lip. His eyes rage with anger as he shoves his hand between my legs. Shit. I can't move. I can't get away. His finger confirms I'm a girl and a knowing, sickening smile crosses his lips.

  "Addy!"

  A man walks up, smiling. "Alonso, mi amigo."

  He keeps talking in Spanish, but I know he's a damn friend of this child-abusing bastard, Alonso. Where the hell is Addy? They talk. At least his filthy hand is off me. Alonso sounds a bit pissed, but he backs off and the asshole behind me lets go.

  The man who intervened steps up to me, peering into my face as if he's going to find a secret. Could he be Pizarro?

  "Addy. Is it you?"

  He frowns. “¿Aa-Dee? ¿Que es Aa-Dee?

  He doesn't understand me. Addy isn't here. I'm in the body of a Sun God's ten-year-old girl of a wife, held captive by the son of a bitch who's going to massacre the Emperor's army and destroy the empire. And if I recall right, he'll garrote Atawallpa right in front of me in a year or two, then make babies with me. I am seriously screwed.

  "¿Cuál es su nombre?"

  I didn't take Spanish, but I know this one from a guy I dated in high school. "I'm Jules."

  "¿Que?"

  Maybe I better let him know who he's just kidnapped. Pizarro can't be stupid enough to think he can take the Emperor's wife without consequence. "Kushirimay sutiy."

  "Kushirimay." Recognition crosses his face. He turns, speaking in quick Spanish to the child-abuser.

  Alonso's rough hands grab me again, dragging me to a tree where I'm thrown down, and bound hand and foot, a rope around my neck holding me against the tree. The bastard slips his hand between my legs for another feel. I struggle, but tied up like this I'm helpless. He rises, his face flushed. He's dropping his pants. God, no.

  "Addison!"

  Alonso, his pants around his ankles, his cock erect, lets out a grunt before going horizontal, landing in a pile on the ground. The man who saved me earlier yells, his sword drawn, slapping the flat side of his weapon across Alonso's bare ass with a loud thwack. He continues to yell, the bare-assed one crawling away and a small crowd of Spaniards coming to see the show. The men press forward, but Pizarro stays them. I don't know what he's saying, but with his commanding voice, I'm pretty certain he's laying down the law. No raping Atawallpa's bride—at least for now. I'm sitting there, half naked, exposed to these bastards who stare at me like they haven't seen a female in a long, long time. They probably wouldn't have these thoughts if I were a Spanish girl, but I'm Inca, an animal, barely a human being to them. The guy who has now saved me twice kneels down, pulling my tunic together to cover my nakedness.

  "Mi nombre es Pizarro."

  Pizarro. "Addy?"

  He squints, clearly not sure what to make of
me or the words I speak. Addy isn't here. And looking at the hungry faces behind Pizarro, I'm not sure if a young girl will be able to survive this ordeal, with or without my help. My God. Addy, where are you?

  ***

  Under a sky ablaze with the setting sun, Francisco Pizarro sat across an open fire from his brother, Hernando. Cicadas, frogs, and only the Holy Virgin Mary knew what else, created a clamor enough to keep a man from his dreams—or haunt them. The path to this place and time had not been without its hardships. His first expedition to Peru, marked by inclement weather, starvation and warring natives, had proved an utter failure. The second, while still not making any significant inroads with the natives, did offer a glimpse of the glorious wealth to be taken by a Christian willing to make the sacrifice. So when the Governor of Panama, Pedro de los Ríos, refused to support a third attempt, Pizarro sailed to Seville, securing the Capitulación de Toledo from Queen Isabel. With royal backing, the now Governor and Captain General of the newly discovered coastline vowed to make this expedition a success in the name of the Holy Roman Emperor King Charles I of Spain and God Almighty.

  Hernando prodded the fire’s embers with a stick. "By my soul, dear brother, I swear thou hast the heart of a lion and the balls of a bull. But this little pagan fancy has commixed your mind and your prick."

  Pizarro wanted to believe it was for the love of him, but he knew down deep Hernando's love of gold, of unimaginable wealth, fueled his loyalty more than family ties.

  "Patience, Hernando. The Inca emperor has, by a reason known only to him, sent this girl to spy on us. I, for one, desire to know his devious purpose."

  "Patience, Francisco? Why should I be patient? We both know she spied on us, tracking our movements. And now for days she has been silent about her ambitions." He pulled a long stick from the fire, its end a red-hot ember. "We bled his other messengers. Why not the girl? She'll squeal her secrets like a stuck piglet."

  Pizarro had considered inflicting some pain on the girl, but decided the threat of despoiling Atawallpa's child-bride offered more leverage than ripping whatever the girl knew out of her. At least for the time being. "Your counsel, as always, is wise, my brother. Under different circumstances I would encourage you to torture the truth out of her. However, although I am governor of this land and captain general of this expedition, even I cannot resurrect a girl from the dead. We require a living hostage."

  Hernando adjusted a log, sparks dancing skyward. "Methinks she followed us for want of a good swiving, eh?" He reached for his crotch. "Maybe the gold we seek is closer to hand." Hernando flung his head back with lascivious laughter, then turned to Pizarro, his tone serious. "Our men grow restless with the bitch in our camp. Let them have their pleasure, then kill her."

  Pizarro knew, when he stopped Alonso from taking the girl, he stirred the ill temper and lust of men driven by aching loins and little natural relief. The previous week one of his men suffered a pus wound to the groin inflicted by one of the little camels roaming the hillside. While he understood God's desire to punish a sinner for casting his seed with the beasts, Pizarro could not afford to lose men to foolishness. Acquiescing to their desire made sense. And yet…

  "Hernando, we know Atawallpa has thousands at his command, while we are only sixty horse and ninety foot. Maybe he sends a girl to distract us, true. We walk alone in these mountains. The Light of our Lord and Savior in a distant land of darkness. I believe the pagan emperor will rejoice greatly knowing she remains alive, will see our generosity, and willingly subjugate himself to our king."

  Hernando poked the fire, sending a torrent of embers flitting skyward. "Do not preach to me."

  "Listen to me, my brother. We must use our faith and our minds to keep our blood from spilling and mingling with Inca soil before we have reached our goal."

  Pizarro's mind clouded. Images he didn't understand flowed over him. Metal birds, crystal towers reaching into the clouds, horseless wagons? Shaking off the vision, he rose from the fire to visit his prisoner once again.

  ”Francisco, don't walk away angry, brother. I only meant to offer my humble counsel and bring some laughter to the difficult work God has set before us."

  Why did he feel angry about the girl? She was a pagan. Not much better than a dog. No, she's a child. A girl.

  Hernando called to him, "Francisco!"

  Pizarro waved an arm to let Hernando know he'd heard his voice. Across a field, the girl sat, tied to a small tree. He had tried speaking with her, but she babbled in her pagan language. Maybe Hernando is right. Confusion washed over him like an incoming tide. He did not feel himself today.

  He approached as the girl babbled on. “Aa-Dee-Sun, Aa-Dee-Sun.”

  She has repeated this chant since we captured her. But wait. Aa-Dee-Sun. Addison? "Did…you say…Addison?"

  “Aa-Dee-Sun?”

  I am Addison.

  "Jules?" I kneel down, pulling out a knife, holding Pizarro's consciousness at bay for now. "Jules, is that you?"

  The girl struggles against her restraints, her terrified eyes follow the path of my blade.

  "¡Mana qamwan tiyta munasanichu!"

  "Jules. Soy yo."

  "I don't want to go with you!" She turns her head away, frantic. "No. No."

  "Jules, yo soy Addison." I grab her face, turning her to me. "Addison Shaw."

  She relaxes slightly, her breathing heavy, squinting as if to bring me into focus. "Addison? Really?" Jules, in the body of Kushirimay, wears a torn and soiled robe, her black hair a rat's nest of dirt and leaves.

  "Mi nombre es Addison."

  She glares, anger in her voice. "If you're Addison speak to me in English, dammit."

  "Lo siento, uh, sorry. I'm having some trouble with my host. It's me, Addison."

  "Addy? Oh, thank God."

  I cut the bindings from her feet and hands followed by the rope across her neck. Raw flesh on her ankles, wrists and neck, as well as a swollen and bruised face give evidence of her struggles. She falls into my arms, her small body quivering.

  "You're okay, Jules. I'm here. We're going to figure this out together."

  She holds me tight. "I hoped you'd come, but they found me and, well you, your host…" Her eyes fill with tears.

  "Jules, what happened to you?"

  "A woman, she kept her face covered. She had a gun with a silencer. Told me if I didn't ink into Kushirimay, she'd kill me. I managed to scribble out a note, I guess you found it in my mouth." The edges of her lips curled upward. "It was the only place I could think to hide it."

  "Good thinking." I help her stand.

  "She stole my pen, didn't she? I wanted to die back, but it's a bit difficult when you're tied to a tree. Thank God you've got a knife. We've got to get out of here."

  "Yeah." Do I lie or speak the truth? I have no idea how to save her. And if she dies back here, she's dead—forever.

  "What's going on? Give me the knife if you don't want to do it yourself." She reaches for the scabbard at my side.

  I grab her small wrist, easily forcing her hand away. Hernando stands by the fire, watching with interest. "No, Jules."

  "Addy. Please." She's on the verge of begging.

  "I'm here now. Everything's going to be okay."

  She tenses against my grasp. "Don't bullshit me. Am I dead present-side?"

  I can't shake the image of Jules' dead lips. "Whoever stole your pen…after you inked…murdered you."

  She pales, her voice quavering. "Oh, God. How?"

  "Does it matter?"

  "It's my death." She wiped snot away with a sweep of her hand, sniffling. "How?"

  "Suffocation. A plastic bag over your head."

  She gathers her tattered robe close around her neck, her lips a thin line. "Crap."

  "Jules, we need to focus. I don't want to arouse any suspicions."

  She glances in Hernando's direction, then to her feet. "Right. You're right."

  "Any idea why whoever did this wanted you to ink Kushirimay?"


  "I read a file linked to our Wright Brothers mission. We thought we just had to repair an anomaly in 1908. But Addison, I found another anomaly, here in sixteenth-century Peru among the Inca."

  "I saw it, too. Somehow the two times are connected."

  "Yeah. I thought you and I would have time to look through the file. I'm not sure what the Inca have, but the technology has the potential to alter history."

  I know I'm talking to the woman, Jules, but I can't help but think of the child before me. "I think whoever's pulling the strings is in Peru right now. Why have you ink unless they wanted to keep you close at hand for some reason? Maybe Kairos knew if he forced you to ink Kushirimay I'd follow."

  "Yeah, I could be the bait." Her eyes meet mine. "Are you safe, present-side? Tell me you inked in the Tempos Refúgium."

  "Yes. I'm safe."

  She frowned. "I don't know, Addy. Sounds like this is about taking me out and stealing my pen."

  She looks past me again to Hernando, who is probably wondering what I'm planning to do with our prisoner. I'm pretty sure he'd like some alone time with her. He needs to know she's my property, under my protection.

  "We'll find a way to get you back, Jules." Her entire body, frail and weak from captivity, trembles in my embrace.

  "I don't see how it's possible. My present-side body is dead. No, I'm trapped. I'm stuck inside Kushirimay for good."

  I release her, and come to her side, putting my arm around her. "Walk with me."

  "Where are we going?"

  I nod to the thick foliage beyond our campsite. "For Hernando's benefit."

  Once out of sight, we part. Pizarro wants much more from Jules than I will allow him to attain. I'm not sure if I can keep him under my thumb or not. I move away from her, the distance making my internal struggle a bit easier.