Crossover Earth '98
Failed Engagement Nestor D. Rodriguez
The Traveller strode through the swinging doors of the posh New York hotel, oblivious to the thinly-disguised look of mild contempt from the doorman stationed outside.
His outfit, though clean, was not exactly up to the sophisticated standards of the establishment. Not that this was something to concern him at this moment.
After talking to Dr. Martin and arranging this meeting, The Traveller had journeyed at full haste from Georgia towards New York City. Except for pauses to exercise and test his abilities, and a detour to rescue a lost hiker from a group of cultists engaged in a ritual sacrifice, he'd forged north without rest.
Once he had arrived in the city, he had stopped at a shelter to freshen up, donated his bag and its contents to one of the homeless there, and proceeded to the hotel agreed upon as the meeting place.
The Traveller stood in the center of the huge lobby, scanning the crowd anxiously. He had memorized the doctor's face from the picture in the magazine, but he could not see anybody matching his appearance.
"Mr. Trail? Jack Trail?" An unfamiliar voice hailed him. He turned towards it.
The Traveller studied the two men approaching him. Except for small differences in face structure, they could have been twins, dressed in very similar dark suits and wearing identical serious expressions on their faces. The one who had called his chosen name stepped up and pulled a small wallet from his coat.
"Are you Jack Trail?" Without waiting for an answer, he flashed the wallet open and put it back in his coat. "Special Agent Perkins. This is Special Agent LeMastre. I believe you were supposed to meet Dr. Donald Martin?"
"Jack Trail" nodded warily. "Yes, I was. What's going on?"
"I'm afraid Dr. Martin won't be able to join you. There's been an unfortunate incident and he's not up to meeting with anyone right now."
A cold weight settled in The Traveller's stomach. "An 'incident'? What's happened? Is he all right?"
"A hijacking attempt occurred on the plane Dr. Martin and his family were traveling in, and sadly, his wife and daughter were killed. Dr. Martin was not injured, but he's currently recovering from the shock."
The Traveller stared at the agent as the cold weight intensified. He had a sick feeling he could have prevented the tragedy if his memory had not been faulty.
He shook his head as he tried to absorb the news. "I... I'm sorry to hear about his loss, but I must talk to him. It's... it's very important."
Agent Perkins watched "Jack Trail" impassively. "I'm sorry, but that's out of the question at the moment. I can carry a message to him, if you want."
"Just tell him it's imperative that we meet as soon as possible. Please."
"I'll pass it along. May I ask where you will be staying?"
"Well, I just made it in myself, so I haven't made any arrangements..." The Traveller trailed off, realizing how lame his statement sounded. He saw Perkins' mouth twist slightly, then took the small card the agent produced from his coat. It was blank except for a phone number neatly inscribed on its center.
"Just call that number once you're settled in, Mr. Trail, and we'll inform you when the situation changes."
The Traveller gave a subdued "thank you," nodded to the two men, and made his way slowly back to the street. He walked down the crowded sidewalk, lost in thought.
He'd had no warning, no foreshadowing of the tragedy. He couldn't tell whether Dr. Martin's tragedy had been somehow tied to his own predicament. Had he been supposed to prevent it? Had he already failed at whatever task he was to accomplish? What could he do now?
He had little faith in the two men he had talked to. While he'd had very little contact with the government during his stay, he'd somehow felt Agents Perkins and LeMastre were not people he could trust. But with no other lead, what else could he do but wait?
The crowd stopping ahead of him made the Traveller look up and take stock of his surroundings. The people in front of him were waiting for the stoplight to change and the cars in front of them to stop.
The Traveller scanned the area around him out of habit, focusing his energy on both sight and hearing. He stopped when his enhanced hearing picked out the squawk of a radio among the hubbub.
"Car 4 to Base. Target is in sight, traveling down 3rd Avenue. Suggest Agent Thomson maintain surveillance on foot, over "
Casually, the Traveller turned his head to look towards the source of the sound. A nondescript car idled about 15 feet behind him, among the other cars waiting at the intersection. He narrowed his focus until he could see the two men, dressed very much like Perkins and LeMastre had been, sitting inside the vehicle.
He carefully continued his turn, avoiding eye contact with the car. He noticed another fellow standing almost the same distance away, glancing at a storefront in a rather unconvincing manner.
The Traveller thought furiously. His feelings of mistrust were obviously well- founded. Whether these people were truly government agents or not, he could not afford to have them following him around.
Turning back to the front in time to see the light change, he began looking for some way to escape the situation. He followed the crowd and continued down the street.
Some distance ahead, he saw an alley connecting to the street, leading off between two buildings. He lengthened his stride slightly, enough to increase his lead by a small amount. As he reached the alley, he turned into it.
Looking around quickly, he noticed the fire escape leading up the three stories to the roof of one building. Without hesitation, he concentrated and leapt.
He grabbed the railing of the second-story platform, then hunched and leapt again, reaching the roof with ease. He rolled onto the roof, then snuck his head out carefully to look back.
He saw the agent on foot reach the alley, then rush into it once he realized his quarry was gone. The man searched the length of the alley, checking for any other exits. He never considered looking up.
After a while, the agent returned to the street to confer with the two in the car, which had been waiting at the mouth of the alley. As they talked, the Traveller was struck with sudden inspiration. The men in the car probably knew where Dr. Martin was located. They might very well lead the Traveller there.
He stood up and moved to the front of the building in time to see the car, with all three men in it, move away from the curb. The Traveller followed until he reached the end of the roof. Across another alley, another building of the same height stood. Without pausing in his stride, he leaped across the chasm and continued on.
When he ran out of buildings, the Traveller simply jumped down to street level and continued his pursuit. Men and women moved aside and gawked for a moment as he sped by them, then continued on their way in typical New York disdain.
Soon the car left the city, heading north towards the mountains. As he sprinted down the side of the road, the Traveller maintained his focus, splitting his concentration between increasing his running speed to pace the car and keeping his senses enhanced, allowing him to hang back far enough so the occupants wouldn't notice him.
The agents' car continued into the Catskills, taking ever-smaller roads. As he topped a small rise, the Traveller stopped in surprise. The car had vanished! He extended his senses and was rewarded with the now-familiar sound of the car's engine. He noticed the small unpaved road turning off into the woods. Going carefully now, he followed into the brush.
After a while, he noticed a decrease in the engine noise and the murmur of voices. Treading softly now, he reached the end of the trees and looked out.
A fenced compound took up the space in the clearing. Armed guards stood at the entrance and walked the grounds. The Traveller saw the guard at the gate let the car through under a sign that read "Catskills Government Research Facility" and resume his post.
He stared at the compound silently. The only physical sign of his marathon was the feverish look in his eyes and a wave of heat emanating from his body, strong enough to make the leaves touching him to curl back. His mind whirled, his thoughts all centering on one question:
What do I do now?
To Be Continued...