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  ‘Then, when the finish line was in sight, I meet you. And suddenly I’m alive, painfully, ecstatically alive. And I’m greedy for life. My body is greedy for life. It’s ready to go again. I’m having to fight the urge to pull you under me again, and sink into your flesh, because …’ he couldn’t find a reason for it.

  ‘It feels like where you belong?’ she finished for him. He looked at her in surprise. How could she know? How could she guess that was exactly what it felt like for him?

  ‘It’s how I feel, too. I feel empty without you. I would be more than happy if you gave in to your greed, at this point. I really would.’ She smiled that now familiar, sexy smile, and stole his breath away. Literally stole his breath, so he had to gasp to fill his lungs again.

  But he didn’t have to be told twice. His pulse leapt, as he leaned in to claim her ripe, kiss-swollen lips with his own. Looking forward to what was to come this time, not afraid, or uncertain. There was only the thrum of his speeding heart, the power of the life-force within him. And Cara, beautiful, beautiful Cara. With a cry of exaltation, he dived off into the unknown.

  It was after dark before they finally left the bed, and headed for the kitchen to forage. There wasn’t a lot in the cupboards, so they ordered pizza to be delivered, while they snuggled on the sofa, listening to Mozart.

  Cara couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy. Every muscle in her body ached deliciously. If someone had told her, two days ago, that she would be punch drunk with sexual satiation from repeated, explosive, world-shattering orgasms, she would have laughed. Things like that didn’t happen to her. Sex like that didn’t happen to her.

  Oh, she’d always enjoyed sex – more for the sense of closeness it provided than for any incredible bodily sensations. She could count the number of lovers she’d had on one hand, and her memory of those experiences was pleasant, if underwhelming.

  Probably the best experiences had been with Bill, in the early days of their marriage. But that was because he’d had a lot of experience with other women, before and during their marriage. For him, sex had been entertainment. Or sport. The heart had never played a part in it, she now realised.

  That’s why he couldn’t understand why she’d felt betrayed by his infidelity. It was only sex, he’d said. Just a bodily function – like eating or sleeping. The only woman he’d ever really loved was her. Or so he claimed.

  But she couldn’t see sex that way. For her, it wasn’t just a bodily response. Her heart had to be in the game, too. And, because it had rarely been engaged in any meaningful way, it meant there hadn’t been a lot of sex in her life. Especially after Bill’s betrayal.

  That’s why Jac was such a miracle. What she felt for him was more than desire for a gorgeous body. She was attracted to the person he was, the person she was coming to know. Even after such a short space of time, she felt she knew him better than she had ever known Bill. And everything about him thrilled her, and made her weak with desire.

  She didn’t know if it was possible to fall in love in a couple of days, or whether this was just a very tender form of lust. Whatever it was, she wanted it to go on. And if she had to leave her world, and take up residence in the twenty fourth century, to be with him, then that was what she would do.

  God, that sounded weird! Like some science fiction movie. Terminator. The first one. And Jac had come back through time for her. Not to save her from Arnie Schwarzenegger, but to save her life, nonetheless. It was the stuff of fantasy.

  When the buzzer rang, Jac bounded for the door, and headed down to collect the pizza. Where he got the energy from, she didn’t know.

  Her mind turned over their conversations, replaying them like favourite movie highlights. He’d said he’d only been surviving for the last three hundred years, but now he was greedy for life, because of her. Because of her! When the finishing post was in sight, she’d appeared.

  What did he mean by finishing post? That meant the race was over, didn’t it? But he had eternal life, didn’t he? The clones would be there as often as he needed them, wouldn’t they? She felt a cold chill run down her spine. Something was up. Something was seriously up.

  He had the lid off the pizza box by the time he loped into the room. The smell of tomato, greasy pizza base and melted cheese filled her nose. Her grumbling stomach told her that she was way past hungry. She was ravenous.

  Scrambling up, she fought to claim the box before he had a chance to scoff the lot. They playfully wrestled for possession, until Jac’s body warned her that food had lost its appeal, and he now had another hunger that needed to be fed.

  ‘Oh, no you don’t. I have to eat or I’ll fade away,’ she complained, as he put the pizza box on the bench, and turned her toward him for a kiss. She felt his greed warring with his need to care for her. It felt like a major victory when his lips reluctantly left hers, and he turned back to the pizza.

  ‘Eat fast,’ he ordered, pulling a section out of the family size Hawaiian and offered it to her. Cara took a bite as he held it, and smiled up at him as she munched.

  She could see the effect the melted cheese dripping from her mouth was having on him. Delighted, she turned her back, so she could fill her stomach before desire took her too, and she deserted the food for the bedroom.

  ‘No fair,’ he griped, between hungry mouthfuls.

  ‘Your roomy needs to learn some manners,’ she managed to get out, before she took another bite. The pizza was the best thing she’d ever eaten. The sweetness of the pineapple was a particular delight. Having devoured her first slice, she slipped under his arm to steal another section, and then scampered back into the living room to sit and enjoy it.

  By the time she‘d finished her second piece, and was feeling replete, Jac joined her with two glasses, half-filled with wine.

  ‘We never seem to finish these glasses of wine. I pour them, and then we get side-tracked. This is all that’s left in the bottle.’

  ‘Terrible waste,’ she said, with a chuckle.

  ‘The old me would have forced myself to drink the left-overs, even if they were warm and off. Waste not, want not, was my motto.’

  ‘We’re seducing you with our wasteful consumer society, aren’t we?’

  ‘You’re seducing me with that wanton, sexy body. Everything else takes second place.’

  She giggled as he nuzzled into her neck, threatening to tip wine all over them.

  ‘Patience, stud. Let’s just take a moment, okay? We’ve got all night. You are staying aren’t you? I don’t even know where you’re living.’

  ‘Motel in Midtown. ‘

  ‘So, will you stay here until its time?’ she asked, suddenly nervous about his answer. There was probably some rule against co-habitation between Retrievers and Retrievees. The idea of him sleeping somewhere else, made her feel empty inside.

  ‘Till D Day? I don’t think you could stop me. You make my roomy happy, and I’m rather content with the arrangement, myself.’

  ‘Tell me, does my dossier account for my actions between now and D Day? Does it say that I took a couple of days off sick?’

  His face was a picture of concern. ‘Are you sick?’

  She laughed. ‘No, silly, it’s just that for the first time ever, I feel like calling in sick, and taking a couple of days off work.’

  He frowned, as he thought. She wondered if she’d horrified his work ethic by suggesting taking a few days off. Of course, she would be taking permanent leave, shortly. She would need to go in and sort out her work situation, before she left. It would require subtlety. No one was to get the impression she knew she wasn’t coming back.

  ‘Actually, there were a few days off before D Day. I hadn’t thought about them. Records say a viral infection.’

  ‘So, do I always meet you, and take those days off? Do I always fake my death? I assume we will be faking my death?’

  He frowned again, thinking through the ramification of her words.

  ‘This is part of the paradox. The chicken and the egg.
Did we select you because you were going to disappear, or did our research just identify cases that we had already targeted?’

  ‘So, what about the 10% who don’t agree to Retrieval. Do they die, as the records say?’

  ‘Yeah, always. That’s why we’re always careful about not giving anything away, in case someone decides to mess with fate.’

  ‘So those people were always fated to die that way, and people like me, unbeknown to you, were always fated to fake our own deaths. Hmmm… sort of puts paid to the Sliding Doors theory.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Sliding Doors was a movie with Gwyneth Paltrow. Where’s your detailed cultural knowledge now, my man? Basically, it played with the idea that there are multiple realities. In one, you might meet a man on a train. In another, you might just miss the train’s sliding doors, and not meet him, simply because there’s a slight change in the time-line, a delay of seconds. And the life path diverges from that point on. But we don’t see the divergence, of course, because we’re in the stream – maybe all the streams at once. Big brain fry, that one.’

  Jac took her empty wine glass, and put it on the coffee table, out of the way of his big bare feet that he’d settled on the top of the table. They were nice feet, with long toes and neatly clipped nails. She wondered if the clone grew hair and toenails in the life support tube. Would someone have to go in and cut them every few months? So many questions.

  ‘We have found no validity to that theory. It may be what happens, but, as you say, while we are in the stream, we can only experience that reality. So, in the stream I perceive, you will take two days off sick because I always came back to seduce you into poor work habits.’

  ‘And those missing kids? They were never really missing. They were always selected for life in your Brave New World.’

  ‘Cara, don’t start up with that again. You’re not going to upend my society so easily. We’ve lived through a hell you can’t possibly imagine. We’ve lived with the reality that there will be no more children for us, ever. To try to change hundreds of years of thinking, of acceptance – you’re asking a lot, expecting a lot.’

  ‘Yeah, but what if all those missing kids were always meant to live happy lives in the future? What if they are all like me? You just aren’t far enough along your time line to know that yet.’

  Jac sighed heavily, and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Let’s not do this now, okay? Let’s just live this time-line, this now. It’s all we’ve got.’

  The finality and sadness in his voice reminded her of the ‘finishing line’ he’d mentioned earlier.

  ‘Why did you say that the finishing line was in sight? What end were you talking about? Why did you race in to this Retrieval, before your body was ready? There was no rush on this end. What was the rush on the other?’

  He kissed her deeply, without replying, and she could tell he was trying to avoid answering. She wouldn’t be put off. She pulled back from him, and looked him in the eye.

  ‘Jack, tell me. I need to know. I deserve to know.’

  He let her go, and climbed to his feet. Walking through the open french windows, he stepped out onto the balcony. The town was shrouded by darkness now, and illuminated by thousands of spots of electric light, that looked like colourful stars. There was a chill in the air; a reminder that spring was only just over.

  ‘We always believed that there were an infinite number of times a Consciousness could be shifted into a new body. I’m not sure when they discovered it wasn’t so. Probably some time ago, and they didn’t tell us because it might lead to unrest. But they told me, just before I was being prepped for this shift.

  ‘It seems that Consciousness can shift eight times. After that it just doesn’t work anymore. So this is my ninth and last life.’

  His voice was very soft, and the passing traffic from the street below made it difficult to catch every word. She moved to join him on the little balcony, so that she didn’t miss anything he said.

  ‘How do they know it has to be nine? I thought you were one of the first regular time travellers? I thought you went through bodies faster than everyone else. How many people could there be ahead of you, that had tried for their tenth body, and not got it? Maybe it’s not a fixed number. Maybe different people have a different number of lives.’

  ‘Cara, you keep trying to fight a system you know nothing about. Keep doing that, and you’ll Crash and Burn. I won’t be able to handle it if you do that. I want the years I’ve got left with you. Don’t take them away from me, please!’ She could see the frustration and anger in his face, but she couldn’t let it go.

  ‘How can they be sure?’ she demanded.

  ‘Jeezuz woman, I thought I was stubborn and pig headed! Okay, so here’s the deal. While I’m in-situ, on a Jump, I age. I may only be gone a matter of minutes in the twenty fourth century, but my body will age according to my personal time-line. If I stay here a month, I go back a month older. Get it? ‘

  She nodded, without saying a word. He was really angry with her now, and she wasn’t sure if she’d pushed him too far.

  ‘In the early years, people shifted bodies whenever they felt like it. You can have one hundred years of good health and relative youth out of a clone, but people, me included, swapped early, for aesthetic reasons more than anything. I swapped my first three clones after fifty years. Other people were even more inclined to shift early, especially people who enjoyed dangerous pastimes. I imagine there may have been people who reached their nine life quota before time travel even started, I don’t know.

  ‘I was just onto my fourth clone in 2270 when I got involved with Retrieval. That’s about sixty chronological years ago, from my Start Point – when I left to Set Down here – 2330. Every Jump costs approximately four months of life. So, I lost seventy years out of every hundred by Jumping as often as I did. Do.

  ‘In each in-situ, you age. I guess I’ve spent, on average, a month in-situ with each Target, and then a month back at Start Point, between Jumps. So, let’s see, in the sixty years of time travel I’ve lived approximately twice that time, trading up bodies every fifteen chronological years, or every thirty personal years. I’ve been very economical with my time. I don’t spend much time in-situ. But other people do. Especially the researchers. Some of them spend whole lifetimes in one era. So, many of them would have reached their nine lifetime quota pretty quickly.

  ‘Funny, I never questioned people disappearing. We were bringing in new people all the time, so the population was increasing dramatically. But people I knew, from the old days – I’d lose track of them, or hear they’d died in-situ. This world of yours has always been a dangerous place. But if we die here, that’s it. No new clone body. So, the people I knew, that’s what I thought happened to them.

  ‘Now I know they probably just ran out of lives. Just like I have.’

  Cara watched him as he leaned against the balcony railing, looking out at the night sky. He was so sad, it made her heart hurt. It was crazy to be upset because life expectancy was only nine hundred years, and not infinite. But it hurt that people had wasted their quota because they thought they had forever.

  What was worse, was that people like Jac, had had their years eaten away by their job. By being a Retriever, bringing new life to their decimated population, he’d whittled his years down to less than a third. What must that have felt like, being given that news – realising what his uninformed choices had taken from him? Like all those early smokers who got cancer because they hadn’t been told it could kill them.

  For Jac, that moment of sudden mortality must have been overwhelming. She could see why he would jump back into his job as quickly as he could. He wanted to make the most of the years he had left.

  Could that be why his body was different this time? Maybe she wasn’t the catalyst for his new experiences. Maybe the catalyst was his survival instinct kicking in. It was a far more rational explanation than love at first sight. Even the fact that he’d gone crazy over her at all c
ould be explained by the situation. Didn’t they say people got sexually aroused when facing death? She could have been any woman.

  ‘What are you thinking? I can see the emotions flitting across your face like shadows. What conclusions have you reached?’ His voice was strained, a little harsh, as if he was controlling his own emotions.

  ‘I was thinking what a shock it must have been to be given your death sentence, when you thought you had forever,’ she answered honestly, but without giving away her true concerns. She didn’t want to put doubt in his mind, or worse, have him try to placate her with half-truths.

  It was important that she saw the real situation, so she wasn’t devastated when Jac finally woke up from his danger-induced lust, and realised he felt nothing for her. In a way, it was nice being the first woman his survival instincts had latched onto. It only became a problem if she made more out of it than there was.

  Looking a gift horse in the mouth wasn’t going to serve her. But letting herself fall in love with him wasn’t going to serve her either, if his feelings weren’t real. She just had to be sensible, and stay prepared for when that moment of realisation came.

  Jac grunted. ‘Yeah, it was one hell of a birthday present.’

  Chapter Nine

  July 3 2011, Westchester NEW YORK

  Cara woke to sunshine warming her skin. Her mind immediately jolted her with thoughts of what awaited her. It was finally here: D Day.

  The days since Jac’s revelation had passed in a blur, each one squeezed of every memorable moment. Each night was like a little death, knowing she had one less day to enjoy her world, her friends and her work.

  The hardest part had been saying goodbye to Laura, without letting her know that was what she was doing. They’d met for lunch at the Boathouse Restaurant yesterday, and spent several hours reminiscing. She’d even been able to drop in how much she’d appreciated having Laura as her friend, for all those years.