Lucy dashed down the hallway, alarms blaring crimson streaks of warning across the cold, sterile walls. Her boots pounded against the floor, each step fueled by sheer adrenaline as she wove through the flashing emergency lights. She rounded a sharp corner, her momentum barely controlled as she slid on her knees, skidding past a bewildered guard. His mouth barely had time to part in confusion before she snatched his phone from his hand with a flick of her wrist, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
A gunshot cracked behind her, the sound ripping through the air like a whip. Sparks flared as the bullet ricocheted off the metal wall, stinging her cheek with its heat.
She didn’t stop.
With one fluid motion, she kicked off the ground, scaling the side of the hallway in a series of rapid footfalls. The physics of it barely made sense, but hesitation had never been in her nature. Lucy angled herself in midair and vaulted back down, landing on a trolley abandoned in the chaos. The impact sent it rolling forward with a sharp squeak, the wheels wobbling dangerously as she used her weight to angle the platform onto its frontal wheels.
Her fingers worked fast, typing in the numbers on the stolen phone. The hallway stretched ahead, the window of opportunity narrowing with every second. Her heart pounded as the call connected.
"Hello! You’ve reached the hotline for Redaction Runners—"
“GET ME RYAN!” she barked into the phone, her voice ragged with urgency.
Another shot. She had no time to react. The bullet seared through her thigh, the pain instant and searing. She barely stifled a scream as her leg crumpled beneath her, ruining her balance. The trolley buckled under the uneven weight and she went flying.
The world flipped. The ceiling became the floor, and then—
Impact.
She hit the ground hard, breath leaving her lungs in a strangled gasp. The pain clawed through her leg, hot and merciless, as the phone tumbled beside her.
“—where your history is private history,” the recorded message finished.
Fucking. Ryan.
She barely had time to curse before she caught the glint of more bullets heading her way. Her instincts kicked in, and Lucy reached back in time, finding the exact moment where the confused guard had fired the shot that had ruined her escape. She erased that moment from his memory, then her own.
The change hit instantly. A jarring, sickening lurch rippled through her mind, sending her stomach into knots. The headache came fast and hard—cheap, but still painful.
She blinked, now standing, barely keeping herself upright. The trolley was ahead of her again, the hallway unchanged—except her leg was whole. No blood. No bullet wound.
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The guard up ahead, however, still looked confused.
“Hey, you!”
Lucy’s gaze snapped up. Red sirens painted the hall in warning streaks, and the guard’s gun was already raising toward her.
I can figure out how I fucked up later.
She dove down as bullets shredded the air above her, slamming onto the trolley with a grunt. The headache was manageable. That meant she had only redacted once.
The phone was still beside her. Ryan’s voice droned from the speaker, a message she knew by heart.
“While you decide, do note that there will be an extra upcharge for any events we consider inconvenient to redact in the name of justice,” Ryan’s smug voice echoed, though she barely heard it over the gunfire. “This will, of course, be entirely based on our discretion.”
Fucking. Ryan.
She kicked against the floor, shoving herself and the trolley forward at full speed. The end of the hall loomed ahead—a floor-length window.
She crashed into it, the impact jarring through her bones. Cracks spider-webbed across the glass, but it didn’t break.
She slammed her fist against it in frustration.
Bloody hells. Of course, this building would have reinforced windows. Should she redact the last safety inspection? Or further back—before the correct installation?
“PUT UP YOUR HANDS!”
Lucy spun, eyes locking onto the guard now taking careful aim. A split second. A squeeze of the trigger. The bullet left the barrel, and she barely had time to react before it punched through her arm.
The pain stole her breath, but she reached back in time again. Two memories this time. The inspection. The serviceman. One to realize the window hadn’t been fitted correctly. The other to install the correct one.
Redacted.
Another headache slammed into her skull like a hammer, but the change was immediate.
The window gave way.
She was in freefall.
Glass shards surrounded her like glimmering daggers, the city below stretching impossibly far.
She reached for the phone, the only thing tethering her to a semblance of control. The familiar number glowed on the screen as she snatched it from midair.
“Please leave a message and tell us what information you would like to redact from time, thank you!” Ryan’s voice rang, almost cheerful.
Lucy turned her gaze downward.
The river.
The Seloma’ne River.
She knew that river. She knew this view.
But it was on the other side of the country.
Her breath hitched. Someone had redacted space.
“Beep,” came from the phone gravity began taking over.
“RYAN, REDACT THE DAY!” she screamed into the phone, curling herself against the wind. “I FOUND THE SPACE GUYS! THEY’RE AT THE HOSPITAL! SO DON’T LET ME GO TO THE HOSPITAL TO GIVE BIRTH THIS MORNING. AND YOU BETTER FUCKING REMEMBER YOU AGREED HER NAME IS JORA.”
But it was a recording.
She knew the fall was fatal.
The impact came. But she never felt it.
Lucy woke with a jolt.
A familiar ceiling. Warm sheets. The soft glow of a bedside lamp. Her head pounded, a dull, familiar ache.
Ryan hovered over her, his brown eyes full of quiet concern.
She gasped, gripping his hand. Her other hand shot to her stomach. Round. Full. Safe.
“My head hurts,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “And it isn’t from the baby.”
“I think you already know why,” Ryan murmured, brushing his fingers through her hair as he handed her a glass of water. “Are you ready to hear it?”
Lucy nodded, drinking greedily. Then she paused. A thought struck her, deep and urgent.
“Wait. The baby.” She swallowed hard, searching his face. “Everything’s okay, right?”
Ryan’s expression softened. “The birth went perfectly fine,” he assured her. “You brought a beautiful, healthy little girl into the world.” He hesitated, lips twitching upward. “And you agreed to name her Karen.”
Lucy groaned.
Ryan chuckled, but his smile faded as he added, “The real problem is what else we found at the hospital.”
His voice turned grim.
“The ones redacting space.”