Timescape by Robert Liparulo Page A

he said.
    Dad did. He reached out and squeezed David’s shoulder.
    â€œXander!”
    Xander nodded. Something that might have been a smile twisted his lips. He dropped his head to plow ahead. The current or his numbing muscles or something caused him to veer off course; if he kept that trajectory, he’d miss them by a mile. Then a strange thing happened. Xander zipped toward them—sideways in the water, still pedaling and paddling with his head down, facing the wrong way. It was like that girl at the beginning of Jaws who gets grabbed by the shark and pulled through the water this way and that.
    Dad and David watched him come.
    â€œIt’s the portal,” Dad said. “He’s got the items from the antechamber. They’re pulling him to the portal.”
    Dad turned to offer David a trembling smile. His eyes flashed wide, and he lurched into David as a breaker—and Xander—crashed into him.
    Xander’s arms flailed out. The metal thing in his hand slammed into David’s forehead. Xander’s frightened eyes locked for a second on David’s, and he tried to say something, but only water spat out of his mouth. Then he was gone: straight down under the water.
    â€œXan—!” Dad said. He stuck his face within inches of David’s. “Ready?”
    David pulled in as much air as his frozen lungs could handle. The ring pulled him like an engine block tied to his body, and he went under. Dad went down right beside him. They ran into Xander, who was coming back up, his limbs twisting and pumping.
    He’s fighting it , David thought. Though he’d done it himself and understood the impulse, his brother’s efforts to reach the surface, to keep them there longer, frustrated him. He pushed down on Xander’s shoulder. He grabbed his bicep, and let the tugging take them both down.
    I hope Dad’s right , he thought. The portal better be close. And I hope
    Xander has enough breath to survive the trip.
    Xander clawed at him. His fingers found David’s face.
    They squeezed and scratched.
    David tried to turn away.
    Something hit them. At first David was sure the Titanic had somehow returned to the surface, lurched in the water, and struck the struggling Kings. Then he realized it was he, Dad, and Xander doing the striking. They had reached the portal door.

CHAPTER

fifteen
    WEDNESDAY, 7:30 P.M.
    They fell into the antechamber in a cascade of water.
    David remembered thinking that Spear-man, being sucked into the portal, looked like he was shooting down a water-slide. This was exactly a waterslide: fast, wet, with a landing that flipped them into the air.
    Tumbling, David caught a glimpse of a wave slapping the antechamber’s hallway door shut. Then the ceiling light flashed past. More water hit his face, forcing his eyes closed. His back slammed into the floor.
    A body—David thought it was Xander—hit the floor in a gush of water and kept coming, right into his head. Another body—had to be Dad—tumbled down beside them.
    The water kept pouring, churning over them, making them flip and swivel. It was like the time he’d lost his balance in the surf at Santa Monica Beach. The water pushed them into the antechamber’s hallway door, against the bench, into each other.
    David forced an eye open. Water rushed through the portal in a solid rectangle. Then the door slammed shut. The water splashed down and was done.
    Silence . . . except for their breathing—deep, exhausted panting. And coughing—wet, miserable hacking.
    David’s back was pressed to the floor. His legs were bent at the hips; they rose straight up along the hallway door. Water dripped off his sneakers onto his bare belly: his shirt was bunched up under his arms and over his chest. His right arm was wedged under the shirt, and he felt his heart pounding like he’d sprinted through a marathon.
    His eyes stung. They felt swollen and too large for his sockets, so