iRobotronic

  iRobotronic

  by

  Bella Street

  Seffy makes it back to 2006 West Hollywood on a retrieval mission only to find herself in a tangent universe where Arnold is still governor. She goes on the run from robotic-like killers who want her dead, and realizes that if she dies, the chance of her and her friends getting back home will forever be terminated.

  Firefly Press

  Nashville, TN

  iRobotronic by Bella Street

  © 2011 Kindle Edition

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover by Palindrome Design

  Photos

  © Valua Vitaly

  © Brent Hathaway

  Playlist at ApocalypseBabes.com

  Bella Street's other titles:

  The Z Word—Apocalypse Babes Book One

  The Z Word follows Seffy Carter and her longtime friends Gareth, Addison and Lani.

  The four besties share a past dysfunctional and dark enough to keep them bound together under do-over identities. But rends develop in their relationships from the flesh-eating pressures of ending up in 1980, in a Montana desert, surrounded by zombies wearing dated disco duds.

  The X Factor—Apocalypse Babes Book Two

  The X Factor finds the Apocalypse Babes friends, along with a few other lost L.A. stragglers, ensconced in a compound that may or may not be run by evil Soviet scientists. Whether it's due to Bolshevik beliefs or a manipulating girlfriend, nightmares are on the loose and they want what's left of Seffy after the zombie attack. To make matters worse, one of the stragglers develops an unwanted attraction for Sef, and insists it's more than just U.S.T. à la Mulder and Scully.

  Kiss Me, I'm Irish—Time For Love Book One

  In 1830, Emily Musgrave is heading to a convent for misbehavior. In modern-day Tennessee, Liam Jackson is playing his Dobro in seedy bars. It's doing nothing for his career and even less for the dark places in his soul. Pixie mischief can not only change time-lines, it can change hearts. Because sometimes a girl just needs a little magic in her life.

  For Diane, her favorite.

  Visit Bella Street at

  ApocalypseBabes.com

  and

  BellaStreetWrites.com

  Also my blog, Facebook, and Twitter

  Midway on our life’s journey, I found myself

  In dark woods, the right road lost.

  —Dante's Inferno

  Chapter One

  The whine of overhead jets eclipsed the roar of Seffy's heart as she stumbled over the debris of broken machinery and broken bodies. She skirted a small fire, then clambered over a pile of rubble.

  The staccato of shots sounded overhead, making her duck for a moment before pressing on. The irony was she didn't know where she was going. She had just been running, until her lungs and legs gave out, day and night.

  Seffy slid into a shadowed crevice of one of the few remaining structures, pressing herself against the side. She struggled to catch her breath without making a sound because she never knew what might be listening. She watched the destruction through the gap with dry eyes. Seffy had stopped crying a long time ago. There was no longer any point.

  The sound of a footstep crunching on metal made her stiffen in fear. She scanned the immediate area but couldn't see what would cause the noise. Suddenly an orange cat jumped from a pile of boxes, making her gasp out loud. As she put her hand to her heart, she heard another footstep. Spotting a singular red dot on the wall next to her head sent her diving to one side. A spray of masonry marked the spot of her near-death.

  Seffy leapt over a pile of debris and headed out of the crevice, her limbs straining in desperation. She'd rather make a run for it than get caught like a rat in a corner.

  As she burst past the edge of the building, one stood there waiting for her. She skidded to a stop, gasping for breath. It was then she realized they'd set a trap. Seffy curled her lip in acknowledgement of their achievement. But the thing didn't stop to celebrate. It pointed the weapon and fired two rounds into her torso. She dropped to the ground, almost relieved that it was finally over. The absence of pain probably meant that the bullets had severed her spine. She lay on her back, looking into its eyes, not expecting to see a soul. As the image above her wavered in the flickering gloom, she watched its foot lower onto her head, crushing her skull.

  “Seffy.”

  Seffy opened her eyes. The nightmare receded into the depths of her consciousness as she became aware of her surroundings.

  The compound.

  Despair roiled in her gut. Seffy despised every painted concrete block, every hidden passage, every dank basement hole. She suppressed a flash of regret that the dream wasn't real—that her life wasn't really over.

  Gareth stared down at her with a sad smile. He tapped his cheek, indicating her tears. “Another bad dream?”

  She nodded, attempting a smile. But her fatigue was so great she couldn't be sure her facial muscles had moved. At least the bad dreams seemed to be tapering off—even if the content was still horrifying. She'd only had one other in the last several days, which ostensibly meant she was no longer being drugged by the shadowy puppet-master who actually ran Fugere—a so-called refuge in a remote reaches of Montana.

  Yippee.

  “We're supposed to meet Fiona and Fenn in the conference room to discuss the plan.”

  Seffy sagged against the couch in her beige little room, running a hand through her hair. Ah, yes. The time travel plan. Why not? Nothing else makes sense around here. She struggled to show interest. “Um, do you really think you can do it? Get us out of 1980 and back to West Hollywood in 2006?”

  Gareth's big brown eyes were solemn. “We have the theoretical part mostly figured out, helped by the catalyst you mentioned.”

  It's not the end of the world.

  Who knew Verity's offhand comment could have such an effect? Verity...the newcomer to their party of four. But the blonde bombshell hadn't followed them when a mysterious blast hurtled them nearly thirty years into the past...and about fifteen hundred miles northeast of Los Angeles. Presumably Verity was still working on her tan in WeHo where Seffy had left her. “I still can't believe those words could some how make time travel happen.”

  “Well, there's a little more to it than that, but we just might be able to replicate the circumstances.”

  “Hey, I'm ready to sleep in my own bed in my own house. Make it so, Number One.”

  His eyes glimmered. “Seffy, I think you just made a pop culture reference.”

  “I did? What'd I say?”

  “That 'make it so' phrase is from Star Trek: The Next Generation.”

  “Well, since I barely know what Star Trek: The Previous Generation is, I'm guessing I picked it up from my newly nerdy, formerly stylin' friend Gareth.”

  He smiled. “Hey, when we're back home, I promise I'll do cool again.”

  “I'll hold you to it. And even while we're here, no taped glasses, pocket protectors and high-water polyester pants, okay?”

  “Agreed.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his compound-issue Levis. “You ready?”

  “Let me just go freshen up real quick.” Seffy pushed herself from the couch and walked stiffly into the white-tiled bathroom. It stung to see Gareth tuck away his hands instead of help her up as he would've in the old days. While their romance attempt misfired miserably, Seffy regretted that all physical camaraderie was apparently gone. For good.

  She quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth. After applying a touch of makeup, she regarded her reflection in the mirror. Dark brown eyes started back at her—eyes that used to be blue. And happy. Or at least not bleak. Getting stuck in a dark hole for days on end with nothing but her fears to keep her company might've had something to do with that. The fluo
rescent lights didn't exactly help either. Her face seemed older than her years. I really need to stop crying myself to sleep night after night. It's very bad for the complexion.

  Seffy tugged her fingers through her shoulder-length hair. Her locks were now only halfway blonde, and all dull. The grow-out was on its way to her chin. Even her tan had long since fled after the almost two month confinement in the compound. She grimaced and left the bathroom, then followed Gareth's lead out the door

  They walked in silence down the sterile hallways—stained floor tiles gleaming, painted walls devoid of actual color. The fluorescent lights buzzing and flickering overhead seemed overly loud. They reached the so-called conference room without exchanging a single word. Seffy bit back a discouraged sigh.

  Eugene, the resident head scientist, was there along with Fenn, who seemed to be doing a better job leading the compound lately, along with his bitchy girlfriend Fiona.

  Addison and Lani were also there, motioning her over to a couple of empty plastic chairs. As usual, Cynthia, Eva and Jared—latecomers from the blast—sat separately, looking at the same time sullen and bored. Apparently Lani's plan to bring them into the 'Apocalypse Babe' fold had not yet yielded the desired results. Gee, maybe they don't want to hang with people who actually name their group.

  Seffy's gaze glanced off Trent, who sat apart from everyone. She saw enough to notice his typical sprawling posture and smirk—and the knowing look that made her cheeks heat as she sat next to Lani. Why he didn't stick with the three people he'd arrived with she didn't know. Instead he seemed hellbent on getting in her pants when he wasn't getting on her nerves.

  Seffy sat with her spine straight, hating the feeling of Trent behind her, knowing his eyes were boring into her back. Most of all she hated her reaction to his presence. Why did her heart pound and her fists clench when he was around? Why couldn't she be cool and dismissive? It had been a while since she'd slapped him. Maybe that's what he was itching for.

  “Thanks, everyone, for assembling on such short notice.” Fenn, instead of his usual stance behind glass, stood at the far end of the room. Seffy noticed his eyes seemed bluer in person. Goodness, he could hypnotize with those things. She glanced at Fiona and caught the diminutive girlfriend's version of stink eye. Oops. Don't stare at the cutie compound boss.

  “Eugene and Gareth will be making the presentation.” Fenn smiled. “Keep it to layman's terms, guys.”

  Seffy wanted to pat Gareth's knee or something to give him a 'go for it' cue, but she refrained with difficulty. She glanced over to find Addison's green eyes assessing her. Seffy looked away as Gareth and Eugene wheeled an overhead projector over to the middle of the room and turned it on.

  “What, no PowerPoint?” Trent said from the back.

  Fenn, Fiona, and Eugene, hopelessly anchored to the 80s, only stared blankly in response.

  Seffy, imagining a Vegas drum rimshot, crossed her arms. Are we done yet?

  Eugene slid a transparency onto the projector. The image consisted of a straight line with a wavy one intersecting it, along with a symbol that vaguely reminded her of the sign for some foreign currency.

  “This straight line represents linear time, which is fourth dimensional,” Eugene began, shoving his glasses up his greasy nose.

  From his myopic vision, to the white lab coat over plaid pants, everything about the science department head screamed nerd alert.

  “Technically, the laws of physics allow for the possibility of time travel.” Eugene chuckled to himself. “Actually, I think we can say without a doubt that it's been proven because you're all here.”

  No one else laughed.

  He cleared his throat. “So, we're talking about time dilation and special relativity—”

  “Don't forget twin paradoxes,” Gareth said helpfully.

  “Just so. But beyond that, there are three potentials for time travel and those are black holes, wormholes, and cosmic strings.”

  “We're focusing on wormholes,” Gareth said, “because wormholes give us the greatest chance of traveling back to the future.”

  Jared sniggered.

  “Black holes and cosmic strings are more for forward travel only.”

  “And it was the wormhole theory we were working on when you appeared,” Eugene said. Seffy crossed her arms over her chest. So now they're out of the closet on that little fact. Interesting. It wasn't that long ago they said they didn't have a clue how she and the others arrived from 2006.

  Eugene pointed to the foreign currency symbol. “This is a way to describe a wormhole. If you had, say, a piece of fabric—”

  Trent spoke up. “Do you mean like the fabric of time?”

  Fiona sent a sharp look Trent's way. Eugene grimaced and continued. “Er, you have some fabric and say you could curve it. Imagine there's a tube, also made of the fabric, part of the whole as in not sewn on, and that tube connects both top and bottom of the fabric curve.”

  A vein throbbed under Seffy's eye while she tried to look interested.

  Gareth held up a marble. “Imagine you're this object and you travel along the fabric through the normal course of your life in your time, then fall down this fabric chute, which is connected to the other side of the curve. That's time travel. You're still on the same piece of fabric but it's on a different plane, or in a different time.”

  As geeky as Gareth sounded, Seffy was glad he was finally taking the task of getting them home seriously. It wasn't that long ago that he'd done a whole lot of nothing—aside from finding new and humiliating ways of rejecting her.

  Her conscience reminded her he'd been under the influence of behavior modification pharmaceuticals then. But her heart still stung.

  “I'm sure you're all wondering about the Grandfather Paradox,” Eugene said.

  “Not so much,” Addison mumbled, running a hand through her red hair.

  “We don't care about all this,” Eva whined. “Just tell us how we can get home.”

  Eugene took off his glasses, giving them a rubbing with the front tail of his Madras shirt. “We're getting to that. The Grandfather Paradox is where you affect your own future by decisions you make traveling in the past.”

  “We've seen the movies,” Trent said.

  “Movie?” Eugene asked, looking perplexed.

  “Will we need electricity, a DeLorean, or banana peels?” Jared asked.

  “Never mind,” Gareth said quickly to Eugene. “Another advantage of the wormhole form of travel is that a vessel or time machine is not necessarily needed, though an artifact might be.”

  “What, like archeology?” Eva said.

  Gareth shook his head, frowning.

  Fiona pressed her hand to her chest. Maybe she had indigestion from all the stupid questions.

  “So we just roll like a marble down a hole?” Lani asked, her voice sounding nervous. She tucked a lock of her dark hair behind her ear.

  “Er, yes,” Eugene said. “But it won't be quite as random as that. We will use exact coordinates—the ones that brought you to us—to send you back. But, well, since there's risk involved, we want to try an experiment first.”

  “I thought we were the experiment originally,” Addison said.

  Fiona leaned forward, her fake smile more menacing than reassuring. “You're more of what we call a mistake.”

  “Well, I'm reassured,” Trent said. “Anyone else ready to be wormhole fodder?”

  “When is the experiment?” Seffy asked dully, ready to go back to her room. Nightmares were almost preferable to reality, since one wasn't real, and the other—distressingly—was.

  “We have a few more details to work out,” Eugene said, “but I think within a week's time, we will attempt another...attempt.”

  “Are you going to send a sack of marbles?” Trent asked. “Or a chimp?”

  Gareth grimaced in response to Trent's smart alec attitude. He looked around the room. “Actually, we'll be sending Seffy.”

  ***

  Seffy splashed cold
water on her face. Being back in her room hadn't quite been the comfort she'd hoped for. After Gareth's shocking announcement, she'd returned here, hoping to get her thoughts in order. Her number one issue at the moment was why Gareth had chosen to surprise her publicly about her upcoming trip instead of telling her in private. It was one thing to sustain a tectonic shift in their formerly close relationship, and quite another to be manipulated.

  Seffy went into the main room and sank onto the sofa—the sofa Trent had provided. Had he known how much she'd wanted one? She held her head in her hand and tried to make sense of her floundering thoughts. Focus. There's no time for thoughts about Trent. The real issue is Gareth and his behavior.

  And the only reason for Gareth's behavior she could come up with was to publicly pressure her into making the attempt, knowing that if she didn't try, hope would be lost for the others.

  He needn't have bothered. Of course she would go. A chance to go back to her normal life in WeHo? And if the experiment failed, she'd either get lost in the time-space thingie or just get dead. At this point, both options were preferable to her current existence.

  A knock sounded and then a door opened. Seffy didn't bother to look up. If Gareth wanted to beg for her understanding, she'd just cut him off and tell him she'd do the time travel thing no problemo.

  “Hey.”

  She looked up. Not Gareth. “Did you just come through my closet?”

  Trent grinned. “Yep. I'm thinking that you left it unlocked because subconsciously you want me back in your life.”

  “I opened the closet door to get clothes, and you never were 'in my life'.”

  “Ouch.” He scrutinized her for a moment. “So, are you all excited for your upcoming adventure?”