CHAPTER FORTY-TWO ~PART FOUR~

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We reappear in the other timeline. The sound of rainfall is immediately replaced by the lulling sounds of the gently sweeping waves grazing the surface of the beach. The dimly lit beach ignites with the heated rays of the sun

"You sure this is the right time—and place?" Tristis asks spinning in place observing the surroundings as if he had never been here before.

"Yes, this is the right place and time. Trust me. . . I wouldn't forget," I answer back as the feelings I had, that day with Hilt, come gurgling up into my throat and it threatens to spew out from my mouth.

I close my eyes. Shut them tight, and force it back down.

"So now where?" Cynthia asks glistening in the harsh sun light, still soaked from the rain.

I upturn my head and look up to the top of the cliff. I shoot a nod or two upward and look back at their faces. They catch onto what I'm saying and I can tell they are unhappy.

"Man, we really need to think about investing in an elevator or something. I mean, this is getting ridiculous," Tristis kicks at the duffel bags on the ground.

"We are almost done Tris," I say just before he moves to kick the duffel bag again.

I pull the duffel bag up and away from the ground just before his foot connects with it. His foot flings through nothing and throws him slightly off balance. Not enough to knock him over, but enough to turn his face bright red.

"Dude! Not cool. . . Not cool at all," Tristis says trying to act as casual as he can.

"Sorry. . . Couldn't resist," I say with a shrug of the shoulders.

"What are we gonna do with these bags, genius?" Tristis asks with a slight tone of mockery.

I square my feet in the sand and throw my arms out towards where they are huddled on the ground. I grip them in my focus and pull them up. Up the side of the cliff. Up. Up. Up. Until they are at the top and I cast them onto the top.

"Well that was easy enough," Cynthia says chuckling at the situation.

We work again to get up the Cliff-side. We make it safely and I begin to unzip the duffel bags. The sound of clinking metal rattles within the bags and when I open it I'm not surprised to see a lot of unfamiliar shiny metal looking back at me. I am surprised however to find a stack of books and notebooks inside with the gadgets.

"What are these for?" I ask, gesturing to the books with generic, non-specified covers.

"Leave that to me, Mr. Macho Man," Tristis says with a grin on his face.

I take his advice and start digging around the bags for what I am after. The vests. If we are going to survive the Angron long enough to shut it down were gonna need these.

"Here, put these on," I say tossing a vest at each of them, "pull this tab and turn this one,"—I point to the dial on the back side—"to about, here."

They listen and follow my instruction. Immediately the vests lose their density and almost give off the sensation of being nearly weightless.

I lead them into the dense trees remembering exactly where we went that day. Bits of my memory where me and Hilt made this same walk begins blending into the present and it feels a lot like seeing déjà vu again. I have a feeling that I'm going have to start getting use to this feeling of Déjà vu. I have to shake my head a few, quick jerks to get the images out of my head.

We reach the door in the ground much faster than I had first estimated.

Tristis observes the door in the ground. First with wonder and amazement. Then he begins to evaluate it structurally. He's a lot like a kid when it comes to new, interesting things. He can't help it; his intrigued side almost always makes an appearance when something new comes up.

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