Overwritten: Train Train Go Away (Part IV)

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As I’m waiting to board the train, I can hear the woman who sells tickets get into it with a guy who is trying to purchase one at the last minute. As she’s giving him a hard time about his identification, I realize that I recognize him. His name is Mateo Matic. He first disappeared mysteriously in 2014, and then again in 2015, almost exactly one year later. Ever since then, I’ve spotted him hanging with Reaver’s alternate timeline wife, Leona Delaney, but only once a year. I was watching her before Reaver was paying me for it. He must be some kind of time traveler as well. I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but Reaver probably has dastardly plans for him. They might could be friends, but I highly doubt it. If he feels threatened by Mateo when it comes to his theoretical love, then only death will follow. Are my plans failing? Is Reaver falling into the same pattern as before? What am I going to do now?

I board the train, cautiously sit behind Mateo, and flip on the tablet that Micro gave me. She never told me exactly where they want the train to be, or when they want it to be there. I’m just supposed to let the program she wrote run and do absolutely nothing else. But I am going to do something else. I’m going to monitor Mateo and get a better sense of who he is. If I fear that his death is imminent then I’ll pull the plug on the whole operation. I’ll only be able to do this once, though. After I make that move, Reaver will no longer trust me. He doesn’t go on his killing spree in the alternate timeline for the better part of two decades. Anything could happen. Man, I really hope I don’t have to burn this bridge.

Mateo does nothing of note throughout most of the trip, but then someone gets on the intercom and claims that all the frequent stops are just as annoying to them because they have to be there too. Yikes. I adjust my body into a defensive position, worried that they’ll find out that I’m the one causing this. Micro assured me that no one would know, that these kind of scheduling issues used to happen all the time, but I’m still worried. Maybe I should have gone ahead and taken that stage combat class. A man on the other side of the aisle reacts to the announcement, “the difference between us and the crew, is that we are paying for the misery, while they are being paid.”

“So true,” Mateo answers.

“What’s your final destination?” the man asks. Who is this guy? Is he another time traveler? Another investigator? A threat? An ally? Does he know something, or is he just a stranger on a train?

Mateo takes a long time to answer. Either that or he’s ignoring him. I don’t have a great vantage point. I should have sat behind this dude’s seat so that I could secretly see Mateo from there. Rookie mistake.

“I didn’t know it was a trick question,” the man says with a laugh.

“No, sorry. It’s Grand Junction, Colorado.”

“Business or pleasure.”

I see Mateo take a deep breath. “New life,” he says with conviction.

“Ah, interesting. Running from, or just running to?”

Mateo tilts his head and pauses again. He must just be a thoughtful character, not wanting to answer inaccurately or rashly. “Both.” Nice answer; short and sweet.

“Well, I’m rooting for you. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Thanks,” Mateo says, but it doesn’t sound genuine. The train lurches and begins to move again. “What do you do for a living?” He doesn’t sound all that interested.

“I’m a physicist. The name’s Duke Andrews. I assume you don’t have a career at the moment. What’s your name?”

“Mateo. I don’t have a last name anymore, though.”

“Full commitment,” Duke says back. “I respect that.” He really does sound like he respects the decision, if that really is what Mateo is going for. If Mateo’s struggle to buy the train ticket is any indication, his last name is no longer relevant. To perhaps his family and friends, he’s been missing. To the world, and particularly the government, he would no longer exist. Once you’re gone for long enough, they’ll just decide you’re dead. Mateo probably hasn’t reached that point yet, but he will relatively soon.

After another delay, I look at my watch and see that we’re about nine hours behind schedule. I wonder if that means we’re on schedule. I can hear Mateo open a paper map. A paper map. Paper. Guy still uses paper; what a weirdo. Eventually, he stops moving. I have this strange thought that the program I’ve been running does more than just manipulate train movements. Or maybe it doesn’t do that at all. Maybe it’s been sending out a magic signal that’s programmed to rupture Mateo’s brain stem, or some crazy science fiction like that. I stand up and head towards the front of the train so I can get a look while I’m heading for the lavatory. Crap. The lav is behind us. What will my excuse be then? I’m overthinking it, and no one is watching me. Yes, they are. Duke eyes me with suspicion. Or maybe it’s curiosity. I just need to leave. I could have business in another car. What does he know? He doesn’t know. Screw him! I’m going to another car, and he can’t do anything about it. Is the food car up ahead, or is it behind us? No, it doesn’t matter. Just keep walking. My only threat is Duke Andrews, and he can go to hell!

But he’s not the only potential threat to my life as a train schedule hacker. With each subsequent car, the chances that the food car is up ahead decreases. Soon, I realize that it can’t be, and I’m walking forward for no reason. There are other people here, and they are all watching me. They’re all cops, and judges, and time travelers, and “Reaver Enterprises” spies. That’s right, this entire train is full of people who work for Reaver. This is all a big test, and I’m failing. Shit, I have to get back to my seat. But how’s a man gonna turn around? If I just stop in the middle of one of the cars and start heading in the opposite direction, people will be like, dafuq is that guy doing? Because, like I said, they all work for Reaver, so they’re all watching me. Doesn’t matter. If I’ve failed, then I’ve failed. All I can do is go back and keep my head down from now on. Sure, I might be headed towards my death, but I knew that from the start. This train may very well be on a collision course. It could have been designed to kill Mateo, or to kill me. But that would be ridiculous because all the other people on the train work for Reaver too. Surely he wouldn’t kill so many of his own employees. No, stop thinking like that. That’s called paranoia. They don’t all work for him. Maybe half. No, shut up! Nobody works for Horace Reaver. Well, except for me, of course. And maybe someone else. And probably one more for good measure.

I sit back down in my seat and take my anxiety medicine. After a while, I can hear Mateo moving around again. He’s alive. For now.

Duke shuffles his newspaper. He uses paper too. “Welcome back.”

“Where are we?” Mateo asks. He sounds panicked.

“Don’t worry. You’ve not missed Grand Junction yet,” Duke answers in a very comforting voice. It even makes me feel better about possibly sitting in a death tube. “You can go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up.”

“No, I made a mistake. I meant Glenwood Springs. I’m supposed to go to Glenwood Springs!” His voice seems to wake other people in the car. A baby starts crying. Such a terrible mother bringing a baby to a death tube. Oh that’s right. This is not necessarily a death tube, and she does not necessarily—I mean, probably does not—work for Horace Reaver.

“Oh, well you’ve missed that. But it’s okay. You’re starting a new life. Does it matter where? You won’t be that far off course either way.”

“What time is it?” Mateo gets up and desperately looks at his watch. “Oh my God. It’s almost midnight.”

“No, it’s eleven o’clock.”

“I mean a different midnight!” He’s right. It’s almost midnight central time. Maybe this is everything the train schedule manipulation has been leading to. Are we where Reaver wants us to be? Am I okay with that? If we’re not, will he blame me? I can handle myself. What I’m really worried about is him blaming his hacker, Micro. She has no clue what kind of guy Reaver is. She doesn’t know he’s a murderer. I need to get back to Kansas quickly, just in case. Or maybe I’ll call Brian and burn his cover. No, it’s too early. I have to stay in the shadows, but ya know, in a visible way.

The tablet Micro gave me beeps and the train comes to an abrupt a halt. That is definitely not a coincidence. We are where we need to be, which means we probably shouldn’t be here.

“We apologize once more,” says a different the voice on the intercom. “We’re not sure why the train stopped this time, but we are looking into the matter and will have you back on track in no time.”

“I have to get off!” Mateo screams. Yeah, we’re here. He’s scared of this place, wherever it is.

“You won’t be able to,” Duke says. “We’re on a bridge over the Colorado River.” That makes sense. Bridges are dangerous places for trains. Just ask any action movie. This is it. It’s time time to die. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath.

“I’m still on the upper level!” Mateo jumps up and tries to pull his bag from under the seat, but is unable to. He gives up on it and runs for the door, but doesn’t make it. At exactly midnight central, he disappears from sight. Some of the crowd screams while others shudder while others didn’t seem to be looking at him at that moment. Yeah, Mateo is most def a time traveler. I look over to Duke who clearly didn’t know that was going to happen, but isn’t all that shocked by it. He did say that he was a scientist of some kind.

Mateo’s bag. There might be incriminating evidence on it. I can’t let the authorities get there hands on it, but I don’t want Reaver to see it either. I can protect Mateo, even if I don’t really know why. I can keep this secret, if I decide to trust the only other person on this train with any interest in what happens. I sneak over while everyone’s freaked out about a man disappearing in thin air. I take my time and release the bag from its grip on the seat’s frame. I sidestep over to Duke and hand it to him. “This is his. Keep it safe.” My God, I sound like a spy on a park bench. “Tell no one about me.”

“Who are you?” Duke asks.

“Nobody.”

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Microstory 240: Perspective Fifteen

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Perspective Fourteen

I’m not the brightest tool in the shed. This has made my life real hard. I wasn’t good at sports, and I don’t do crime, so I’m stuck feeling like a loser, and money is hard to come by. Unlike the jocks, I’m not dumb just because I’m too busy with other things. I’m legit not smart, and things people say don’t make sense. My parents took me in to get tested, see if I’m tarded, but I’m not. At least that’s not what I gleamed from the meeting. They never said I was tarded, she called me borderline intellectual functioning. And what that means is that I don’t understand what people say very well, and sometimes I say things multiple times because I can’t remember if I said it before. But then after saying it again, I’ll remember that I said it before, and I’ll be upset with myself about it, and then I’ll start to stammer and ramble because I’m just trying to figure out how to finish my thought without sounding like I don’t know what I’m talking about. And that’s funny because the stammering and the rambling end up making me sound like I don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s hard to explain to people what my thing is, because the thing is that when they think of people with mental disabilities, they think of someone, like, drooling over themselves and, ya know, like, swinging their arms around and stuff. That’s not what it is. That’s not me. That’s not what I do. Like I said, I’m not tarded. I just have trouble learning and remembering things. I want people to know that I do have a job and they gave me the job after I talked to people at this special center, but I got the job. I did get the job, and I earned it, and I’m very good at it. I actually found out about it from this kid I went to high school with. He was always really helpful and patient with me. His girlfriend had a kid when they were still in high school. He’s had a really hard life, and I feel really bad about it because I boned his girlfriend when we were in high school, and I never told him about it. Nobody else knows because she died later on and I don’t think she told anyone about it. I feel bad about it because he got me this job at this small business that sells custom clothes and other stuff. I get to fold the clothes and put the things we sell in boxes for customers around the world. The guy’s son sometimes sits in with us and he reads his school books to me because I don’t like to read myself and I’m not good at it. We’re a lot alike. We both like video games and he actually looks a lot like me. I’ve just walked into the diner where the other place his father works. He’s there working on his homework. I’m going to see if he wants to talk, though.

Perspective Sixteen

Microstory 239: Perspective Fourteen

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Perspective Thirteen

I think I’m in love. No, that’s not right; I definitely am in love. My father’s friend comes into his diner all the time, and I get to watch her from afar as I pretend to do my homework. She’s absolutely stunning and perfect. My heart skips every beat when I see her. The way she looks at the menu every single day, even though she always gets the same thing. Country fried steak and eggs with a side of hash browns, and extra browns in place of the short stack of pancakes. And a coffee she takes black, like a badass. What an angel. My friends think I’m idiot for going after an older girl when there are plenty of girls my age who’ll go out with me. But those are all basic bitches. I need a woman who’s been there. I need a woman who has that experience. I need a woman who knows what’s up. Sure, she’s twice my age right now, and I get that she doesn’t have eyes for a fourteen year old, but it won’t be like that forever. Ain’t nobody gonna be complaining when I’m sixty, and she’s seventy-six. She’s just come into the diner like she normally does, but something is different. She’s dressed up more than usual, and she’s wearing a ton of makeup. I’m not into that. A woman is beautiful as she is, in her birthday suit. There must be some reason? Is she into my father? Is she trying to impress him? Gag. No, that can’t be it; she’s being just as dismissively polite to him as she always is. He’s so clueless. I love the guy, but he’s a dummy. I redirect my attention back to her and realize what’s happening. Another woman has just come in and they’re hugging. It’s like they haven’t seen each other for years, and their tight embrace lasts just a second too long. Great, now I actually have some competition. Who is this woman? She can’t give her what I can. I haven’t ever seen her before, so she must not be important. But still, she has to go.

Perspective Fifteen

Microstory 238: Perspective Thirteen

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Perspective Twelve

I’m a single father. My girlfriend and I were still in high school when we found out that she was pregnant. I asked her several times who the real father was, but she refused to tell me. But then this angel was born, and in an instant, I had no interest in knowing who the father was. In fact, I told her that we needed to keep quiet about it. Everyone already assumed the child to be mine, and that’s exactly how I wanted it. I was a few years into parenthood before it really struck me how much I was taking away from the biological father who may or may have no clue. Life for us was a struggle, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. My son is the best guy I know, and I hate it that I’m depriving someone else of that, but what am I supposed to do? My girlfriend fell into the wrong crowd who gave her the wrong ideas, and after about a year, she left us. What if the father is one of them? If, hypothetically, he tried to take custody, he would most certainly win. I would be devastated, and worse, my son could be living in a crack den or something. After about another year, I learned that my ex-girlfriend had died of a drug overdose, and that was it. She had no chance for redemption, and the father’s identity died with her. As sick as it was to wish ill on someone, I was secretly relieved. She could have revealed the truth at any time and taken my boy from me. I couldn’t have that. My parents agreed to help me out by babysitting, but said they wouldn’t support me financially. They were not doing this to be mean; they just wanted me to live with the consequences of my actions. Though times were tough, I understand where they’re coming from, and I never faulted them for their position. I work two jobs, but fortunately, both of them let me bring my kid in after school when I need to. He’s taken to an old friend of mine from high school who is a regular customer, and I consider what it would be like for him to have a real mother. I’m not interested in her romantically, and she’s not into men anyway, but she’s just absolutely great with him. She’s come into the diner today to have lunch with a woman she used to be in love with. I think she may want to start something with her, which would be great for them, but it interferes with my fantasy life and that’s all I can think about. I need some professional help. Would it be a conflict of interest if I use the same therapist as my friend?

Perspective Fourteen

Microstory 237: Perspective Twelve

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Perspective Eleven

I was extremely protective of my best friend as we were growing up. It was only when we were a little older that I realized I had romantic feelings for her. Our neck of the woods was actually pretty progressive, so I probably would have been okay coming out, but it wasn’t really anything people talked about. I kept my feelings to myself, but we both knew the truth; she possibly before I did. Our relationship was waning even before she moved out to the fancy schmancy west coast, and I always blamed myself. Subconsciously, I think I would act to sabotage all her relationships with men so that I could have her all to myself, and she ended up resenting me for it. We gradually grew apart and stopped talking to each other. She went far out of state to attend college, and just never came back. Fortunately, they invented that powerful social media site back in oh-four, and we were able to reconnect. We had both grown up by then and our thoughts and perspectives as little baby children babies seemed silly. But then something strange happened. On that social media site, I saw that she changed her status to “in a relationship”. And it was with a woman. I felt slighted. I felt angry. All those times she patiently rejected my weak advances were just because of me, not my genitals. Suddenly all those times I thought like she was talking behind my back, or when she’d blow me off for her boyfriend, became incredibly insulting. It was a pattern of behavior that I let go because of my unrequited love for her. We continued to “not talk about it” during our online conversations, but the hints she dropped about needing to “find herself” eventually mitigated my concerns. My therapist tells me that I need to encourage the side of me that has moved on from her. I’ve dated plenty of women since then, and just amicably ended a long-term relationship. I resolve to follow her advice, but then my friend messages me to say she has to fly back home to deal with her sick father. And she wants to have lunch. Great. What is this gonna do to my self-esteem?

Perspective Thirteen

Microstory 236: Perspective Eleven

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Perspective Ten

A few years ago, my father was diagnosed with angle closure glaucoma. As the doctor was prescribing medication, she apparently claimed that he would be better off treating his condition with marijuana. That’s great and all, except that this is a lie. It was relatively recently officially determined that cannabis is no more a productive treatment for his condition than other medications. Unfortunately, my father has a bit of tunnel vision; no pun intended. When you tell him something that he wants to hear, he latches onto it and blocks everything out, even if he’s interpreting the opposite of your intention. I can’t be sure exactly what happened during his conversation with the doctor, but I doubt she legitimately suggested he go this route. Before getting my Master of Business Administration, I earned a bachelor’s degree in biology. The pharmaceutical company I work for has particularly high standards when it comes to hiring their sales representatives. They aren’t just looking for a pretty face willing to seduce a client with ever-imminent promises to make a sale. We are required to actually know what we’re talking about, and to spend a great deal of business hours studying and understanding the products we’re selling. My superiors genuinely believe in our medical treatments, and are interested in making the world a better place, rather than just getting over that bottom line. I’m not saying that they’re saints, but we pride ourselves in selling drugs that work to a certain degree, and have a limited number of side effects. I’ve tried explaining the truth about my father’s condition to him, but he won’t hear it. As far as I know, he’s never wanted to do recreational drugs before, but I get the feeling he just worried about getting in trouble. A lot of people will follow the rules just because they’re the rules, whether they’re likely to be caught or not. When they find a way around it, they take it. I’m not getting anywhere with him over the phone, so I’m flying clear across the country to have a talk with him back home. But first, lunch with an old friend.

Perspective Twelve

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 4, 2058

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Mateo and Leona decided to keep from introducing Prince Darko to the rest of the family until 2058. Leona had been right in that he jumped forward in time one hour before the two of them, still attached to the Eastern timezone. That could be helpful or hurtful to them. It was just a crapshoot. The following late morning, they all gathered together to have brunch, which was apparently what they were going to be doing from now on. “That is, until the next Reaver shows up,” Mateo said after they were finished with the meal.

“He may already have,” Leona volleyed, still far more unsure about Prince Darko than he was.

“You need to stop thinking like that. Have you ever heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy?”

“Have you?” she asked, pointing out how dumb he was via subtext.

“That wasn’t necessary.”

“I’m sorry, but my experience in that prison suite was different than yours in the regular cell. Being locked up is one thing, but being catered to by your enemy is just creepy.”

“Well, talk to me about it,” Mateo urged. “Every time I try to bring it up, you brush me away. I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“Typical man, always trying to fix something. I just want you to listen.”

“I can listen. You’re not talking!”

She knew he was right, but wouldn’t admit it in a million years. She was hurting, and she didn’t know how to express her feelings about it. “Never mind.”

She started to walk away, but Mateo gently took her by the shoulder. “Hey, are we okay?”

Leona looked like she was coming up with a complex and difficult answer, but in the end just just said, “I need time.”

“Okay.”

“And I need to speak with our new friend alone.”

“What?”

“I have some questions for him, and I need to know what he says when you’re not around. He obviously doesn’t like me, and we need to understand why.”

“So you’re going to be alone with him.”

“You let him in, you can’t be scared about it now.”

“I let him in. Doesn’t mean I’m handing him my social security number. I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, not accepting him blindly.”

“Well, let me go get a good look.”

“Leona...” Mateo tried to say.

“I promise to not give him your social security number.”

Image courtesy of Megan Highfill.

Once Leona disappeared from sight, the scene changed, and Mateo found himself looking at an ancient temple he recognized. He didn’t know the name of it, though.

“Angkor Wat,” the Cleanser said. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Mateo didn’t even turn his head. “It is. Have you bought me a tour.”

The Cleanser laughed. “I just like beautiful places. The Pit of Jhaseg on the planet Eiusagl, this temple. I would take you to Stonehenge sometime, but it’s taken.”

“What am I doing here?”

“I’m here to warn you about Prince Darko.”

“You heard about that, huh?”

“He is incredibly dangerous, and he’s lying to you.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’m not lying, I’m just not telling you everything.”

“I am growing wary of our conversations already. How often are you going to extract me from my life?”

“As many times as it takes.”

Mateo waited for him to elaborate.”

Feeling the tension from the silence, the Cleanser corrected himself, “as many times as it takes for you to understand that if you want your life back completely, you’re going to need help from someone like me.”

“You say that salmon are really just choosing ones who happen to be locked into an uncontrollable pattern by someone else.”

“Essentially, yes.”

“All things being equal, what’s to stop the other choosers from locking you up. I mean, sure you have power now. But can you not be overpowered by someone else. Sticking with the prison analogy, it’s possible to lock someone up who’s stronger than you, especially if you have friends.”

“I’ve already told you that we don’t play well with others. In order to stop me, they would have to work together, and they don’t like doing that. I mean, I know you’ve already talked about the fact that they didn’t really need your help to stop Reaver. They just chose to enlist you because you’re a character to them. It’s like a video game. They can move you around, but there is still a right way to do things; certain limitations, however arbitrary they may be.”

“Oh, so now we’re video game characters.” Mateo started roughly massaging his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Lord and Savior, do the analogies never end?”

“No,” was all the Cleanser said.

“Do you have any evidence, or at least anecdotes, against Prince Darko, or are you just feeling jealous?”

He laughed. “It’s not jealousy, and I can’t tell you about his past...but I can show you his present.”

“How so?”

He waved his arms ceremoniously and swept them away to a new place.

They were walking alongside Leona and Prince Darko in the park who didn’t appear to have any idea that they were there. Another choosing one trick. How often were they watching so literally? “Don’t worry,” the Cleanser tried to comfort him, “they can’t see us, but we don’t do this as often as you would think. Literally watching salmon jump through the water isn’t the most interesting way of getting the story.”

“I see,” Mateo said, unconvinced and uncomforted.

“Now pay attention.”

They began to eavesdrop on Leona’s and Prince Darko’s conversation.

“What are you doing here, Prince Darko?” Leona asked.

“I’m here to help,” Prince Darko replied, “in any way I can.”

“What if we say the way to help is to leave us alone?”

“Is that what Mateo wants?”

“It’s a hypothetical, just answer it.”

“I would do everything in my power to comply with your wishes, but I’m as bound to the powers that be as you are.”

“I can’t shake the feeling that you’re lying, and you’re actually not bound.”

“I’m not sure what I could do to convince you. Have you not met others like us? How did you start trusting them?”

“The only two salmon we trust who aren’t part of the family saved our lives.” She must have been referring to The Doctor and Vearden. “Horace and Ulinthra were never on our side.”

“I heard something about security guards.”

“See, that’s it right there,” Leona said. “How do you know about those people? We’ve never encountered you, yet you already know a lot about us. Your claim that you were alone for a month and a half seems thin at best.”

“The Delegator filled me in.”

“The Delegator likes to talk, but not that much. He wouldn’t tell you all this.”

“Oh, no? Do you know him very well?” He was right about that. They didn’t. “You obviously don’t like me,” Prince Darko began, “and I don’t need to understand why. It’s becoming quite clear that you will never be all right with me around.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“So I’ll tell you what, you go ahead and poison your boyfriend against me, but I think I may have the upperhand.”

“How so?”

“He has a soft spot for family, and I can be the brother he’s always wanted.”

“Now you’re starting to show your true colors.”

“You be the best girlfriend you can be, and I’ll be the best brother. We’ll let him decide.”

Leona stopped walking and scoffed. “That’s what you don’t get.”

“What?”

“Mateo is not the boss of our relationship. We’re a team. He doesn’t decide what we do. We come to decisions together.”

Prince Darko tilted his head inquisitively. “Are you sure about that?”

“I’m going back home. I can’t stop you from following me, but I highly recommend you turn around and return to Ohio.”

“Why is that?”

Leona started to leave. “If you’re with us, then you’ll be fine. But if you’re against us, eventually we’ll figure out why, and you will lose. Mateo and I can’t be beat.”

After Leona was out of earshot, Prince Darko said to himself, “maybe not as long as you stay together.”

“You see?” the Cleanser asked, sure of himself.

“See what?”

“I know you’re not that dumb.”

“Yeah, he’s trying to pull Leona and I apart.”

“So...that doesn’t bother you?”

Mateo shook his head. “Not anymore than it bothers me that you’re trying to do the same.”

“I’m just trying to give you some perspective.”

“Could you take me back to the regular dimension, or whatever it is you need to do.” It sounded like it could be a question, but it wasn’t.

“Prince Darko may not be your enemy, but he certainly isn’t your friend.”

“We’re done.”

“Are you going to tell Leona that you saw their conversation?”

“Just wait and find out. Evidently you can spy on us whenever you want.”

“That’s not...I just—”

“Home! Now!” Mateo ordered.

“I will, but first I have a warning. And this one you’ll want to hear.”

“What?” Mateo was becoming impatient. He needed to get back in the house before Leona came back, or he would have to explain where he was.

The Cleanser either sensed this, or could read his mind. He waved his hand and jumped them back to Mateo’s bedroom. “The next Reaver is coming. And he’s much worse.”

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