Score one for Zoe. She winks at me, and there’s a confidence in her eyes I haven’t seen before.
Wombat weaves through the maze to get to a table in the corner. He leans over it and pokes at a smooth, black screen. “See this scanner here? I need you to each put your hand on it, one at a time.”
I’m the closest, so I step up and put my hand on the screen. It makes a little beep and lights up as it scans my palm.
“All right, hang on.” He touches something on the screen and then stares off into space. After a moment I realize he must be doing something on his flexi. It’s creepy because he looks like he’s concentrating, but it’s impossible to tell what he’s really doing. I hope we can trust this guy. For all we know, he could be scamming us. We don’t have any proof he can actually supply us with real fake IDs. We just have Future-Adam’s word to go on.
Wombat turns to something that looks like a computer printer, and a second later a thin, clear sheet of plastic slides out.
“Here you go,” he says, handing it to me. There’s a barely visible cutout of a thumbprint for each finger. “Put these on. They should have your new identity all set up. And whatever you do, don’t lose them.”
While he scans Zoe’s hand, I peel off the prints, which are vaguely sticky, and put them on each fingertip. They seem to be made of the same material as the flexis and sink into my skin, almost undetectable.
He repeats the process, making IDs for the rest of the team, and then creates our fake bank account. The whole thing takes way too long, and I pace back and forth outside the garage, checking my watch every two minutes. Our time in the future is dwindling, and we still don’t have any answers.
“How much longer?” I ask.
Wombat grins at me. “Hey, you can’t rush genius.”
I roll my eyes and turn away, practically running right into Adam. There’s an awkward pause as he opens his mouth like he wants to say something, and I dodge his gaze, hoping to avoid any conversation.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I push my hair out of my face, needing to do something with my hands. “Just ready to get going.”
He continues to watch me, confusion written all over his face. But I’m saved from any more discussion when the others finally emerge from the garage. We thank Wombat for his help, and Zoe gives him a quick hug.
As we walk back to the car, I ask her, “What did you say to him?”
“I invited him to dinner tomorrow,” she says and then sighs. “He’s a nice guy. I feel bad I lied to him.”
“You did the right thing. We had to get those IDs.” But I feel a little guilty about it too.
When we came to the future and started looking into our pasts, I had no idea our actions would affect the people living now. We were supposed to be ghosts of time, flitting in and out of the future without leaving a trace. Now the police are after us and Wombat’s waiting for a date that will never happen. What other echoes will we leave behind in the future?
12:02
Dr. Walters’s retirement home looks more like a five-star hotel than a place for old people to live out the rest of their days. Automatic doors slide open to marble floors, potted plants, and chandeliers. A nurse pushes an older woman past a sign that points to different rooms: cafeteria, library, game room, media room, exercise room, and medical center. Basically, everything you’d need so you never have to leave the building again.
I head to the front desk, anxious to talk to Dr. Walters and get some answers. The others crowd behind me, and a man with curly red hair smiles from behind the counter.
“Hi, we’re here to see Dr.—I mean, uh, Bob Walters,” I say. I wonder if his name is actually Robert and if I should have said that instead.
But the guy just nods. “Are you on the list?”
“The list?” I shoot a look at the others. Future-Adam didn’t say anything about a list.
“The list of approved visitors.” The guy’s smile drops, and he taps the edge of a fingerprint scanner. “I’ll need you to sign in here.”
So much for our fake IDs. “Um, one sec,” I say. The five of us retreat to the corner to talk.