The Flipside Read online

  “The tourists!” Cash snapped.

  “Sir, you see what’s coming at us!” the medic yelled, still pushing the stretcher.

  “I see,” Cash admitted.

  The stretcher reached the ramp to the roller and Cash’s view was cut off as he was pushed up into the vehicle. Four more stretchers joined him before the roller’s ramp was closed tight and the vehicle took off at a surprising clip for a machine as large and heavy as it was.

  ***

  Olivia awoke to a smiling face leaning over her.

  “Where am I?” Olivia asked.

  “On your way home,” the medic said. “We left Flipside FOB forty minutes ago. We’ll be arriving outside the bubble in five minutes.”

  “My wife,” Olivia exclaimed. “Is she alright? Did they find her?”

  The medic’s smile faltered. She picked up a tablet and began to swipe at the screen.

  “Herndon, right?” the medic asked.

  “No, she kept her name. Quigley. Astrid Quigley.”

  “Hold on.” The medic continued swiping then shook her head. “She’s not on the transport list, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been found. It’s a bit of a mess back there with the evac.”

  “Evacuation?” Olivia asked. “You mean rescue?”

  “No, I mean evac, Ms. Herndon,” the medic replied. “Topside Command is pulling everyone out and back to BOP. Flipside is unstable and the bubble is about to turn in less than three hours.”

  “But my wife!” Olivia shouted as she tried to sit up. She found that impossible. “What the fuck? Why am I restrained?”

  “So if you start panicking you don’t hurt yourself or others,” the medic responded. “Like I said, ma’am, we are dealing with some chaos and trying to get everyone to safety. As soon as we arrive at Topside BOP, I’ll undo the restraints. Until then, we can’t take the risk.”

  “Mother—!” Olivia started but was quickly interrupted.

  “HEY!” a voice boomed from her left. “Calm it the fuck down, lady! You are not doing anyone any favors by freaking out! Hear me?”

  Olivia whipped her head to the left and glared at the owner of the voice. Then she relaxed slightly as she saw who it was.

  “Cash, right?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Cash replied.

  “You were in charge of the security team for our tour. You saw what happened.”

  “I’m in charge of all the security teams,” Cash replied.

  “Good for you. You did see what happened, yeah?”

  “I felt it too,” Cash said, nodding his chin at his swollen and wrapped knees. They were the size of basketballs. “Who was your wife?”

  “Is my wife.”

  “Sorry. Who is your wife?”

  “Astrid Quigley,” Olivia said. “Tall, red hair, a lot of freckles.”

  Cash glanced about then shook his head. “She’s not on this crawler. I watched as everyone was moved from the rollers and into here. Sorry. But I think she was one of the survivors in the chasm. If I’m right, then the wingers didn’t get her.”

  “If you’re right?” Olivia snapped. “What does it matter if you’re right? She isn’t on this crawler so…what? She’s still back in the chasm?”

  Cash started to respond then closed his mouth and shook his head. He took a deep breath then focused his full gaze on Olivia. She flinched involuntarily at the man’s intensity.

  “A second team was dispatched,” he said slowly. “We’re hoping they get there in time.”

  “In time? What does that mean? Was she wounded? Is she dying alone in that fucking chasm? Tell me!”

  “I don’t know,” Cash stated. “I don’t. They cut me off comms as soon as I became a patient like you. I may be in charge of security, but protocol over people is how Topside Command keeps everyone safe. All I know is we are racing against the turn. The timeline moved. Didn’t you hear the medic? We have three hours, not forty-eight like we should.”

  “But… What…?” Olivia’s question was a whisper. “Astrid…?”

  “Sorry,” Cash said. He sounded like he’d aged a couple of decades in only a matter of minutes. “Believe me. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

  ***

  Once outside the bubble and safely in Topside BOP, the civilians were unloaded and taken in one direction while Cash was unloaded and taken in a different direction. The civilians were headed for the main medical facility and he was headed for the personnel facility across the base.

  His comm beeped and he sighed with relief as two medics rushed his stretcher toward a huge Quonset hut with a set of double doors being held open by more medics.

  “Raff?” Cash asked over his comm.

  “Sorry to cut you off like that, buddy,” Raff replied. “Shit got real. Fast.”

  “Sit rep,” Cash demanded.

  “Second team hasn’t called in,” Raff reported. “Can’t get them on comms and scanners are down. There’s interference like we’ve never seen before, buddy. I’m only taking the time to comm you because, well…”

  “Raff? What’s going on?” Cash asked as his stretcher was handed off to the waiting medics. He was being hurried down a sterile corridor and the medics were trying to ask him questions, but he gave them a look that shut them up. “Raff? Talk to me.”

  “We’re staying,” Raff said. “We’re remaining at Flipside FOB. Lakshmi refuses to uncouple from Brain until she has answers and it’s now too late to safely shut the AI down for transport without destroying his mainframe cube. I’m staying here with the transition teams.”

  “Raff, it’ll be another year before you can come back…” Cash closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. “Another year. You already did your tour Flipside.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Raff replied. “But, hey, not since the first few years of the bubbles has anyone stayed more than a year Flipside. This is what we signed up for, right? Thrills and adventures that can only be dreamed of.”

  The images of tourists under his protection being grabbed and killed by pterosaurs rushed into Cash’s mind.

  “Yeah. Living the dream,” Cash replied quietly.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ve got Lakshmi and she’s got the Brain. We’ll all be fine,” Raff said. “And when I see you in a year, you can buy me several beers while me and Lakshmi tell you how we fixed everything. Cool?”

  “Sure, Raff, cool,” Cash lied.

  “Gotta go, buddy. We’re shutting down all systems. We can’t risk the electronics getting fried during the transition. Brain is taking the geothermal generators offline until we’re fully Flipside.” Raff went quiet then cleared his throat. “Hey, buddy? Can I ask you a favor?”

  “I’ll watch Elvis,” Cash said, anticipating the favor.

  “Thanks, Cash. He’s at my parents’ farm right now, but they can’t take care of him for another year. And no way his anxious ass would survive a year at the Topside Industries kennel by himself.”

  “I’ll get him as soon as I’m home.”

  Cash waited for a response, but there was nothing. He tapped at his ear and the resulting three beeps told him his comm was active, but no longer connected. Systems at Flipside FOB were offline.

  Cash’s stretcher was hurried into an operating room and the foam was quickly dissolved away from his body as medics began cutting the uniform off his legs.

  “Jesus Christ…” a medic said at the sight of Cash’s knees.

  “Gonna take some rehab to get those right again,” Cash said, staring at the warped messes that sat in the middle of his legs.

  “Let’s hope,” Dr. Leonard Raskov said as he strode into the OR. He took a long look at Cash’s knees then frowned. “Sorry, Cash. Those are beyond repair. I have civilians that are a higher priority. I only came by to confirm what the medics reported from the field.”

  “You aren’t even going to try?” Cash snapped. “What the fuck, Doc!”

  “There’s nothing to try, Cash,” Dr. Raskov replied. “Those knees are gone
. There’s nothing there. You’re looking at a full rebuild.”

  “I’m allergic to replacements,” Cash stated, his fury barely under control. “I can’t have implants.”

  Dr. Raskov blinked then shook his head. “We’ll figure it out. But you’ll need a full orthopedic facility to do any good with those knees. I need to go take care of the civilians.”

  Cash started to argue, but bit the comment back. He shook his head. “Yeah, of course. Go. They need you.”

  “We’ll get you fixed up, Cash,” Dr. Raskov said. “I promise.”

  Before Dr. Raskov could turn and leave, the entire room began to shake with such violence that Cash’s stretcher fell over sideways, something it was designed never to do.

  “Raff!” Cash shouted into the dead comm.

  “Holy shit!” a medic shouted as she spun a tablet around to show everyone once the shaking had calmed down to a minor vibration under their feet. “It’s turning already!”

  “What? No, we have hours,” Dr. Raskov said.

  “Give me that!” Cash ordered.

  The medic handed him the tablet as two others righted his stretcher. Cash stared at the image on the tablet’s screen. “Brain was wrong…”

  Two

  The water flowed over Cash’s shoulders as he sat on the plastic stool set into the handicap-accessible shower stall. He hated having to sit when he showered, but that was the reality when he couldn’t trust his knees to hold him upright for more than a few seconds at a time.

  Cash rubbed at the thin film of plastic that was wrapped around both mangled joints and studied his blown knees. And they were blown; that was the only way to describe them. Seventeen surgeries later and the best the knees were good for was keeping his calves attached to his thighs. Stability of any kind was a pipe dream. He had to have the film wrap on just to make sure the knees didn’t squish outward and completely collapse when the exo-braces were off.

  The water began to go cold and Cash cursed under his breath as he reached behind him and turned the shower off. He watched water drops fall from his brow, his nose, his chin. Outside the hotel bathroom, he could hear the TV playing. He’d left it on one of the news channels and the unmistakable voice of Topside Industries CEO, Tressa Thompson, could be heard spewing the usual corporate line that was designed to give out the least amount of information possible in order to not cause a panic and sell off company stock.

  In other words, Tressa was spinning bullshit as only Tressa could.

  Cash sighed, grabbed the handicap rail bolted into the wall of the shower, and pulled himself upright. He carefully stepped out of the shower and leaned a shoulder against the wall as he pulled a towel from the rack and dried off. It was a step by step process. Literally. Cash had to be conscious of every small move he made while he only had the film wrap around his knees.

  Dried and annoyed, Cash grabbed the two canes that leaned next to the bathroom door. He stabilized himself then hobbled out into the hotel room. On the television, a middle-aged woman with immaculate deep, dark skin, was smiling past the camera at the interviewer. From the image, Cash could tell that the interview was from the year before when the incident first occurred and the turn came way too early.

  “We here at Topside Industries are doing everything we can to make sure this incident is strictly a one-time anomaly,” Tressa said on the TV. “Topside Industries has been the leader in research, management, and security when it comes to the time bubbles. We have been, of course, for the past twenty-plus years, ever since the moment the first bubbles appeared. Our only objective is to keep our employees safe, our wonderful guests that tour Flipside when it appears safe, and the general public outside the Wyoming Bubble safe. We have the best minds handling the situation now. They will be spending a full year Flipside to track and study any issues that may have contributed to the incident.”

  “That was Topside Industries CEO Tressa Thompson speaking to us last year just after the incident at the Wyoming Bubble occurred,” a too handsome to be taken seriously reporter said as the clip cut back to the live feed. “Ms. Thompson will be on hand today as the scheduled turn brings back the Flipside section of the Wyoming Bubble into our time. Hopefully, those best minds she spoke of will have answers as to what caused the incident a year ago that cost the lives of dozens of tourists, as well as many Topside Industries employees.”

  Cash grabbed the remote and clicked the TV off before the reporter could end his segment. Cash had heard it all before.

  Cash stared at the device. A TV, not a holo monitor. He looked about at the “hotel” room. Threadbare and sad. The only place he could find that could accommodate his physical needs since every other hotel catered to those that could afford top-of-the-line cybernetic replacement implants.

  Not that Cash couldn’t afford one of those places, he could, but his body couldn’t handle the implants, so he needed an accessible shower. His soul also couldn’t handle the pretension, so Cash wasn’t exactly mourning the lack of accouterments provided. Years in the military meant that anything above a hole in the ground was luxury.

  Hobbling over to his bed, Cash sat down hard, his knees exhausted from only the simple act of drying off after a shower and walking five feet. His exo-braces were within reach and he stretched to grab the right one. It took him barely two seconds to strap the brace on and activate it. The small motors inside came to life and the exo-brace self-adjusted so that it was a perfect fit around Cash’s destroyed knee. He repeated the process with the left knee, stretched both legs out to test them, then stood and waited half a second for the exo-braces to adjust and calibrate to his weight.

  Three quick strides back and forth across his room and he was satisfied.

  The hotel door shook as someone pounded on the outside.

  “What?” Cash shouted.

  Cash could hear mumbling, but couldn’t make out the words. He hurried to the door and yanked it open.

  “Oh, dear me!” the front desk manager exclaimed as she averted her eyes from Cash’s naked body. He’d gotten his exo-braces on, but that was all. The manager found herself faced with an incredibly muscular, naked man with light-brown skin marred by numerous scars from various weapons, accidents, and other occurrences that he’d endured over the years. Not a stitch of clothing on. “Uh… Mr. Cash? Your, uh, your…animal is making a racket.”

  Cash glanced past the embarrassed woman and rolled his eyes at the truck and horse trailer at the far end of the parking lot. The truck was fine, but the trailer was rocking back and forth. Cash could easily hear the trumpeting bellow of Elvis inside.

  “He’s hungry and has to pee,” Cash said. “I’ll get dressed and take care of him.”

  “Yes, yes… Thank you to both,” the manager said and retreated as fast as she could without sprinting.

  Cash closed the door and went to hunt for his clothes.

  ***

  The rear ramp of the horse trailer lowered slowly, the automatic hydraulic pistons easing the metal to the parking lot’s pavement. A fast drop would shatter the pavement instantly with the weight of the reinforced ramp. And it needed to be reinforced in order to accommodate the size and strength of the trailer’s occupant.

  “Come on,” Cash said, sounding bored, as he hung the ramp controls back on their hook by the side of the ramp. “You gotta pee or what, Elvis?”

  There was a loud snort then a soft, sharp bark, not unlike a dog, but at the same time, very much unlike a dog.

  Inside the shadowed interior of the trailer, a large shape shifted, turned itself around, then trotted over to the ramp. Cash had gotten used to the fact that something that size could turn around within such a confined space. No one had a clue how flexible the species was until they saw them in real life.

  Head raised, rear-facing wide nostrils flaring to take in the smells of the area surrounding the hotel, Elvis took his time deciding whether or not to exit the trailer. Cash let the creature decide. One did not rush a six-ton creature, even one as docile a
nd well-mannered as Elvis.

  “Holy shit, is that an Ankylosaurus?” a woman called from across the parking lot. “Jesus Christ! Billy! BILLY! Come check this shit out!”

  “What?” a scrawny man barked as he stepped outside his hotel room. “What you…? Oh, damn! Look at that thing!”

  “Hey, mister! HEY, MISTER!” the woman yelled. “Can we take a pic with it? Huh?”

  “Yeah! Can we?” the scrawny man shouted.

  Cash sighed. He was over the novelty of Elvis. He’d known the creature since it was a hatchling, but Elvis had always been Raff and Lakshmi’s responsibility, not Cash’s. Taking care of the animal for a year had proven to be a lot more involved than watching a terrier.

  Being twenty feet long from snout to tail, five feet tall at the shoulder, covered in knobby armor, and of a species that had been extinct for millions upon millions of years, made Elvis far from a terrier. He was an Ankylosaurus and trying to hide that fact by transporting him in a horse trailer could only work so long.

  Elvis trumpeted at the sight of long, unkempt grass at the edge of the parking lot and bounded down the ramp. Cash made sure he was well out of the creature’s way, especially the mace-like tail that could crack him in half with an unintentional wag.

  The two gawkers were making their way across the parking lot, wrist tabs up and recording video. Cash could easily tell they were recording since they had the wrist tab interface set to full holograph and a reverse, shaky image of him and Elvis could be seen as the couple ignored a honking car that had to screech to a halt to avoid running them over. The driver of the car leaned his head out his window to berate them, but shut up when he saw what the couple were focused on.

  “Great,” Cash mumbled.

  Cash crossed his arms over his chest, making sure his biceps bulged against the sleeves of his T-shirt. He stood straight and widened his stance, staring down the couple as they got closer and closer. Despite the fact that there was a real-life dinosaur munching on some Oregon ryegrass only a few feet away, the couple had a very hard time ignoring Cash’s glare.