By Ric Waters

The device Quinn Mallory held was quickly counting down toward zero. He looked up into the black clouds that filled the sky and seemed to be closing in on the ground.

The four Sliders faced into the wind, which howled fiercely down the street in which they stood. It flung leaves and other debris all around them. The streetlights were flickering and went out without warning, leaving them in almost complete darkness.

“Q-ball!” Rembrandt Brown called out desperately over the noise. “How much longer?”

There was less than fifteen seconds left. “Almost time, Remmy,” Mallory called back.

Wade stepped up beside Quinn and looked at the timer. “Let’s hope the next world’s a little drier!” she exclaimed.

“A little calmer, as well!” seconded Professor Maximilian Arturo.

A bolt of lightning branched out through the clouds overhead, its blazing light nearly blinding them. They tried shielding their eyes from it but it was gone before they could bring their hands up to their faces.

Two seconds later, thunder rumbled straight down the street, physically shaking the land beneath it like an earthquake. When the ground stood still, the timer hit zero.

“Now!” Quinn shouted, as he pressed the timer’s key and the vortex unfolded in front of them. “Go! Go! Go!”

The rush of wind into the gateway stirred the air around it, creating little eddies that sent mist spiraling about. Arturo leaped into the glowing gateway and quickly vanished. Wade was immediately behind him, followed closely by Rembrandt.

Quinn took a last, long look at the street and thought briefly about the encounter with his counterpart from this world. There were so many questions that he wanted to ask his double, but he didn’t have the time.

He glanced up at the sky one last time before entering the gateway.

The sound of the rushing wind from the wormhole hissed into nothingness against the native winds and left the street dark once again. The winds continued to drive litter down the street and then the rain began to pour again.

When Quinn landed after his journey through the wormhole, he found himself in a strikingly similar place to where the four had just Slid from. Only here, there were clear skies and bright sunshine. A slight breeze freshened the air around them after they had arisen from the ground.

Arturo patted his rain slicker, hoping to get the dust off of it, only to find the jacket too damp to do so. Rembrandt and Wade glanced around at the buildings and streets.

Everything looked to be in better condition than they remembered on their own world. But, it was more than that that made this Earth seem strange.

Wells came back to the three men after looking up and down a couple nearby streets and alleys. “Something doesn’t seem right here, guys,” she said.

“Yeah,” Rembrandt agreed. “Like, where is ev’rybody?”

“Another world where the entire human population has been decimated?” Arturo wondered aloud.

Quinn had risen from his landing in the street and looked all around him.

“Look at the condition that the buildings are in,” he said. “They look perfect … almost too perfect. I don’t think that this place has been abandoned.”

“Why don’t we walk around. Maybe we’ll find someone,” suggested Wade.

“An excellent idea, Miss Wells.” The cosmology professor looked up at the nearby buildings to ascertain their location within the city of San Francisco. “If we head to the northwest from here, we should find our way downtown. If anywhere, that’s where people should be.”

Quinn smiled and looked up at him. “That sounds like a good idea, Professor.”

Before moving on, he checked the timer. “We’ve got one day, twelve hours before we Slide.” He stuck the device into his inside jacket pocket. The three others glanced at one another in brief consideration of what was to come.

They walked along the sidewalks, examining store windows and looking at cars and the streets. Everything was in perfect condition, but there were still no signs of life.

Brown quickened his pace and moved away from the other Sliders, having spotted something of interest. He walked up to a small, sleek and sporty black sedan. He laughed slightly.

“A ’90 Jag!” he gushed. “My Lord, I’ve never seen one of these in this condition!”

Arturo, Quinn and Wade walked over to him. Brown reached out to ran his hand across the wax finish on the Jaguar.

“Ain’t she a beaut’?” he said to his companions. “What I wouldn’t give for a set of wheels like this!”

Wells stepped over next to Rembrandt to look at it. “I always dreamed of having a car like this,” she said reminiscently.

Quinn suddenly spied a set of keys inside of the car. “I think it might take at least half an hour to get downtown walking from here,” he estimated. “This car seems to have been left here for a reason. The keys are still in the ignition. I think we could take it for a drive,” he suggested. “We’ll be able to cover more of the city this way.”

Wade continued the thought: “And, then we’ll find someone.”

“If there is anyone,” the professor reminded them. “I should say that we would be taking a risk in commandeering this automobile.” He paused to ponder their situation, then glanced around the area. “But, as there seems to be no one around, I won’t object.”

The three smiled back at Arturo.

“Remmy, you do the honors,” Quinn offered, opening the driver-side door.

Brown looked at him in surprise. “You really mean it?”

Mallory nodded.

“Alright!”

Rembrandt slid into the driver’s seat while the others climbed into the car.

The streets that Rembrandt steered the Jaguar down were smooth and clean. There was no evidence of dirt, water, salt or any kind of damage.

But, the biggest disappointment for him was, the radio didn’t work. He had hoped that he might be able to hear some of his own tunes being played.

When he twisted the knob a light came on, but there was no sound whatsoever. He scanned for any radio stations, but there were none, so the four Sliders traveled in silence, only occasionally remarking about the state of the building or lack of people and life in general.

The car smoothly cornered the next turn as they neared what should have been the heart of San Francisco, when suddenly something came into view … something that moved.

“Slow down, Remmy,” Mallory suggested. “I think there’s someone up ahead.”

Brown was already looking down the street and realized it. “Yeah, I see.” He got a better look at the figure walking down the street away from them. “It’s a woman.”

The sound of the car’s engine evidently caught the woman’s attention and she glanced behind her before turning to face the approaching vehicle.

She wore what appeared to be a single-piece jumpsuit that covered her from the neck to her ankles, where it was fitted into boots. The suit itself was mostly red, with a splash of black draped from her left shoulder across her chest to the back.

Rembrandt brought the Jaguar to a stop a few steps behind her and quickly lowered the window. Before he could say anything, she walked up and began explaining herself:

“I must have gotten lost. I was with a tour group not too far from here,” she quickly sputtered. “I wasn’t paying attention to the guide and I guess I just drifted off.”

Well, at least there are others, Mallory thought. That’s a good sign.

“Are you headed back to the Center?” the young lady asked. She looked somewhat lost and afraid and seemed to be searching Rembrandt for compassion and assurance.

Wells felt a little suspicious about her. A woman – the only person around since they arrived – walking alone down a deserted side street. Something just didn’t seem right about that. I don’t like this, she thought, barely holding herself back from saying it.

Mallory looked upon her from the passenger side, without glancing at his friends and answered for them before anyone gave it too much thought: “Yeah, we are. You can get in the back and come with us.”

The beauty of her face was enhanced when she smiled at Remmy, even though he hadn’t uttered a single syllable. He just smiled back. Arturo opened the car door for her and slid over to make room for her.

She placed her hand on the outside of the door and let it glide over it before pausing for a second. Then, she carefully got in, situated herself and looked toward the front with a frown of misunderstanding.

“Why aren’t we moving?” she demanded, ignoring the unclosed door.

Arturo spoke calmly. “Madam, if you could just pull the door closed, we can move on.”

She smiled sheepishly, realizing suddenly that she had overlooked something so obvious. “Oh. I thought …” She stopped before finishing. That’s silly of me. This is an antique, after all. Antiques don’t have the modern conveniences.

Wade decided not to wait for her to do something and reached across her, grabbing the door handle and pulling the door closed.

Rembrandt shifted the car into gear and drove off, not aware that a small, circular object with a blinking red light had been attached to the rear door that the young woman had just entered from.

Inside, the young woman was meticulously examining the interior of the car, as if needing to observe every last detail of it. She slid her hands across the leather of the seats, enjoying the feel of it. After a few moments of this, she looked at her new companions.

“What is it like?” she addressed them all at the same time. “I mean, being curators here?”

Each Slider did a double take upon the question, immediately realizing what San Francisco was on this world – a museum.

Their moment’s hesitation seemed to say something to their new passenger. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume anything. I thought that only the curators knew how to operate these vehicles.”

Quickly trying to keep up with her, Quinn replied, improvising, “Oh, no. We’re trained to do this, so that we can check on different sites to prepare them for tours.”

That seemed to connect something for her and recognition light up her eyes. “You’re tour guides! This is fantastic! It must be so interesting, what you’ve learned about the history of the city and to show off what life was like fifty years ago!” She smiled brightly.

Simultaneously the thought “Fifty years?!” went through the minds of the four travelers.

“It’s amazing how far we’ve come in such a short period of time,” the young lady continued.

Quinn nodded. “Yeah, it certainly is,” he replied, still somewhat shocked.

By this time, the car they were in had passed through a residential section and were approaching terra incognita. Many people were in this area, so Arturo decided that it was time to park the car and get out.

“Mister Brown, perhaps we should pull the automobile over and continue on foot now that we seem to have returned to civilization.”

Rembrandt didn’t have much trouble finding a place to park, since there were very few vehicles along the streets. Once he had turned off the engine, he, Quinn and Wade got out, but their new companion was having trouble getting her door open.

The professor reached a hand for the latch on the inside, but wasn’t able to do anything. Remmy watched and reached out for the handle, when he noticed a small round disk with a small, pulsing light on it attached to the door.

He ignored it, assuming he had missed it when he got into the car earlier, and grabbed at the door handle. He pulled desperately at it, while trying to calm the woman down.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you out of there,” Brown assured her and repeated it to himself under his breath.

In the meantime, a small group of people, dressed in similar clothing to the young woman trapped behind the door, had gathered around them.

Arturo scooted himself across the seat and got out, then offered the woman his hand to lead her out. She looked back at him with sudden fear. She wanted to reach out to him, but something stopped her.

From within the glut of people, a man emerged, wearing clothing that was nearly the same as the Sliders, although the style looked a bit odd. He carried a small device in his hand and held it in front of him. It seemed to be a scanner that he held out.

All of a sudden, he turned and cried out, “Everyone, get away!”

The crowd dispersed as fast as it could, but the four Sliders just stood there.

“What’s wrong?” demanded Arturo.

The plain-clothed man turned back and pointed at the door behind which the woman was trapped. “There’s a micro-fission explosive attached to that door and it’s about to go off,” he shouted back as he ran.

Arturo, Quinn and Wade backed away from the car.

“Remmy, get down!” Mallory shouted, as the three other Sliders dropped to the ground.

But, before Brown could move, the device on the car door exploded. The blast seemed to be focused inward toward the car, but blew out toward him as well, throwing him into the air and hard against the ground.

The vehicle burst into flames, burning fiercely from the explosion and soon black smoke spiraled up into the sky.

Wells rose from the ground, ignoring all the shattered glass that had rained upon her, and ran as fast as she could to Rembrandt’s side. Mallory and Arturo were close behind her. The Cryin’ Man lay on his back; his face lacerated and bleeding.

There seemed to be more blood on the street than that accounted for. Wade felt for his pulse, then placed her hand on his chest. She paused for a long moment, then looked up at Quinn and Arturo.

“He’s alive! Thank God!” she cried out with a smile.

The professor looked upon the prone body of the mustached black man and saw the damage the blast had done. “He may be alive, but he’s probably dying. We must get him to a hospital now!”

Just as he said that, a large vehicle with flashing red-and-white lights hovered down the street with a low hum. A large red cross on the side of the vehicle identified it as it turned around before settling on the street. The rear doors parted with a slight whoosh of air and a pair of medical technicians leapt out. One of the two, wearing a white smock, tapped a small box attached to his shoulder and was rapidly calling into it:

“One injured, male, of African decent, thirty-five to forty years of age, eighty to eighty-five kilograms.”

A third technician appeared as the second pulled out an antigrav stretcher. The second and third techs guided the stretcher to where Rembrandt lay and set it down before checking him.

The lead technician had quickly looked around for more injured. He spotted something in the remains of the burning vehicle, while his other techs scanned Brown and sealed a wound on his head. The lead tech scanned the car, then tapped the device on his shoulder and spoke into it again.

“One deceased, female, of Eurasian decent. Little remains intact.”

The lead tech turned toward the three travelers, noticing their less-than-modern clothing. “You three,” he demanded, “were with these two?”

Arturo chose to speak for all of them. “Yes.”

The white-coated man pulled a small box with a glass bottom and pointed it toward the professor. “Okay. I’m going to need your names. One at a time. Speak clearly!”

One by one, Arturo, Quinn and Wade gave their names, then the tech spoke into the device, adding a few of his own notes.

By the time he had finished his report, the two other techs had carefully lifted Brown onto the stretcher and slid it up to the ambulance.

As the lead tech was about to step inside, Arturo called to him, “Where are you taking him?”

“New San Francisco Medical,” came the terse reply.

“But, can’t one of us come along with him?” Wade beseeched.

The tech said a quick “no” before the doors slid shut and the ambulance lifted off, sirens blaring and lights flashing faster than before.

“That was rude!” Wade complained as the vehicle pulled away.

Arturo contemplated what had happened. “Perhaps it is not customary for a friend or family member to accompany a person in an ambulance on this world, Miss Wells. It may have been rude of us to request that, you know.”

She considered that. “Yeah, I guess it may have been.”

Mallory seized a pause in the conversation to remind them: “At least he told us where Rembrandt’s being taken.”

“Indeed he did,” his mentor agreed.

The unconscious body of Rembrandt Brown lay covered in a blanket. His arms across his body and hands folded together. He appeared very peaceful.

Around him, many pieces of computer equipment were set up. His heart and brain activity were being closely monitored. The rest of his vital organs were being scanned at varying intervals.

The second medical technician that had arrived at the scene stood halfway across the room from Brown, just looking at him. The tech held a something resembling a clipboard against his side, tapping it twice against his hip before stopping and turning away.

A hushed hiss sounded as the door to the room opened and another man wearing a white smock-coat over a deep bluish jumpsuit walked in.

“You needed to see me?” the doctor inquired of the technician.

The tech nodded. “Yes, sir.” He looked over at Rembrandt again. “I scanned this patient for identification and the central lab computer has identified him as …” He turned the computer-board up and pressed on its surface, where a computer screen lit up. “Rembrandt Julius Brown,” he read, “of Detroit, Michigan.”

The doctor looked at the tech. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, sir, as you can see from Mister Brown’s file here …” He lifted the board up so that his superior could read it. “He’s 87 years old.” He paused to look toward the Cryin’ Man’s bed. “As you can see, this man is clearly not that old.”

The medical chief glanced back at the computer screen again, then back to Brown, meditating for a long moment. “He was at the scene of the blast in Old San Francisco. I think we may have a serious problem on our hands, Charles,” he said in clipped tones. “Contact the police.”

Charles turned to leave, but stopped and looked up at his superior. “Doctor Jeffreys, there are three of his friends waiting to see him out in the waiting room. We hafta left them see him.”

Jeffreys glared back. “You don’t need to quote regulations to me!” He half-turned away. “Just let one of them in at a time,” he finally replied somberly, “and hope that the police arrive here before too long.”

The walls throughout the medical center were made of shiny metal, likely aluminum. The lights were neither bright nor dim, just light enough to cast a soft and pleasant glow that wouldn’t be hard on the eyes of patients and visitors alike.

Fortunately, the staff at the admissions desk were much nicer and understanding about the Sliders’ concern for Rembrandt. After a quick palm scan, the three were handed visitation tags that were affixed to their collars and directed to the south wing waiting area.

A large, pane-glass window was facing the bay, where numerous space-age buildings that hadn’t existed in their world stood out against the sunset. There was a major street that led from the medical center straight to the bay, where the once mighty Golden Gate Bridge must have stood.

The sparkling blue waters seemed to calm the three visitors while they waited to be taken to their friend’s room to see how he was doing.

Mallory stood with Arturo and the two murmured in quiet conversation, so that nobody else would overhear them.

“Professor, at least we have some idea of what’s happened on this world,” he said. “Van Meer’s Principle again.”

“Indeed, it appears that time has progressed faster on this world than on our own,” responded Arturo.

They had been waiting for about five minutes when a man dressed in similar fashion to the medical technicians that had taken Brown into the ambulance came out.

By the look on his face, they could tell that the idea of visitors deeply annoyed him, but regulations required him to admit visitors to see their friends or family members. He quickly walked up toward Quinn and Arturo, before Wade crossed the room to join them.

“How is he?” she asked anxiously.

The nurse looked at Wade, at first about to sneer, then without much showing on his face, he crossed his arms across his chest. “He’s recovering well. The blast gave him a concussion and cracked open his skull. Fortunately, the techs who arrived treated him properly, so there was no infection. Regeneration has gone smoothly.”

“Can we see him?” Quinn asked almost nervously.

The nurse glanced at the three of them without answering the question. He looked back at Mallory, then at Wells and stopped when he came back to the professor.

“You.” He pointed directly at Arturo. “Come with me now.”

The professor glanced at his two companions, not certain as to why he was “chosen” to be the first visitor. Evidently, their rules only allow one visitor at a time, he thought. Then, he patted Quinn and Wade on their backs.

“I won’t be too long, then. You two need to see him more than I do,” he told them.

The male nurse was already walking down the corridor with Arturo in tow.

Wade looked into Quinn’s eyes, concern filled them. He hugged her; she placed her face against his chest. “He’s fine, Wade,” he said with assurance.

She looked up and smiled slightly. “I know. I’m thankful.”

After a couple moments, they let go of each other and Quinn sat down in one of the sleek, metal chairs to wait.

From a small compartment off of the waiting area, whispers of a voice emanated. Wade wandered over a peeked inside.

On the wall inside of the booth, there was a small screen similar to a television, where a person sat behind a desk and spoke, while graphics graced one portion of the screen. From what she could hear, she knew that it was a news broadcast, but no one was watching it, so she stepped in to watch what was going on.

The screen changed and a new person appeared on the screen at another desk and began a new report:

“Approximately fifteen minutes ago, there was a blast within the Old San Francisco Historic Site. Reports remain sketchy at this time, but one thing seems to be clear: Five members of the militant, anti-neoluddite Futurists’ Group smuggled a micro-explosive into the museum and detonated it within sight of hundreds of visitors. One person reportedly died in the explosion and at least one was injured. Police are reportedly en route to the New San Francisco Medical Center at this moment to apprehend the suspects …”

The words continued to drone from the screen, but Wade quit listening after that. A view of the smoldering vehicle had appeared on the screen, followed by Professor Arturo’s face, when she turned away and rushed out to her companion.

“Quinn!” she tried hushedly to call.

Mallory turned his head and looked at her. The urgency of the situation showed all over her face, but she couldn’t bring the words out.

“Wade?” he said with a mixture of concern and curiosity, as he jumped to his feet. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

Before she could finally say something, red lights flashed across the room from outside as police vehicles hovered toward the medical center.

“Quinn, we gotta get out of here!” she said forcefully. “The cops think were part of a militant group that planted that bomb!”

“Oh, my God!” Quinn muttered in shock.

The sounds of a short siren shriek cut through the silence as the hospital’s front door swished open down the hall. Mallory glanced in three directions: the one that they had come from, the one that Arturo had gone down and the one directly opposite the direction that they had come in from.

“We gotta get outta here,” he absent-mindedly repeated.

The sirens were quiet, but the lights continued flashing outside, which could only mean that the police were already in the building. Quinn quickly decided that their only way out was the third option.

He turned to run, but Wade derailed his train of thought.

“But, what about the professor? And Remmy?” she said worriedly.

He looked at her, trying to calm her doubts. “We’ll come back for them. They won’t take them into custody,” he told her before headed down the corridor. Wade followed behind him immediately.

Just as he was about to turn the corner, he rammed into a medical worker, knocking her down and rebounding across the corridor. Wade swerved to avoid the fallen woman and kept on moving only a couple paces behind her partner.

A few hand-held computers were sent clattering to the floor as the two rushed past a nursing station, almost crashing into other medical personnel, who had ducked out of the way when they saw the two Sliders coming.

As they turned another corner, a small, blinking red sign caught their attention.

“The emergency exit!” Mallory said hurriedly.

Below the sign was a set of large steel door with a warning painted across it. Quinn ignored it and thrust his leg toward it with all his strength. When his foot made contact with the door, it flew wide open and an alarm went off.

He looked at Wade, who was looking at him. “Let’s move!”

Wells ran out ahead of him. He tried to force the door back shut, but it didn’t seem to want to close all the way, so he left it and the two ran as fast as their legs could carry them away from the medical center into a nearby residential area.

Arturo walked around the side of Rembrandt’s bed, looking down upon him.

“Mister Brown,” he addressed the unconscious man, “I realize that I would not be the first person you’d like to see at a time like this, but I was … selected … to do so.” He turned around and stopped. “Mister Mallory or Miss Wells would have been a better choice for visiting you. They would have had something more positive to say to you than I.”

He examined a monitor what showed a rapidly shifting line quickly become almost flat. It may have been some brain monitoring device, but the professor didn’t seem terribly interested to find out. He faced Rembrandt again.

“I don’t know what I can say to you. I guess I will just go now and allow Miss Wells or Mister Mallory to talk to you.” He turned, paused and added as an afterthought, “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you up and about soon.”

Before he could traverse the room, the doors swished quietly open and a man wearing a blue and black jumpsuit with gold-trimmed cuffs walked in.

“Maximilian Arturo?” the man inquired.

The professor looked over top of his glasses toward the man. “Yes?”

“Ryan James,” the man introduced himself, pulling out a small, golden card-shaped plate and holding it up. “NSFPD.”

Arturo was taken aback.

“You’re under arrest,” the man said without offering any reason.

“Arrest?” Arturo sputtered incredulously, then demanding: “For what?”

The police officer looked skeptically at the man he was about to take into custody. “Illegal use of explosives, damage to a national landmark, suspicion of murder,” he listed, “AND, suspicious criminal activity.”

Arturo gaped at the words he heard. He was utterly dumbfounded at the thought of what he was being accused of. “That’s ludicrous!” he cried indignantly. “I haven’t done anything!”

The policeman was watching the professor carefully. “We have the remains of an antique vehicle and of a woman who was trapped inside of it, as well as you and your friends’ images and voice prints recorded. You are under arrest.”

The professor stood there, mouth still agape. James seized his forearms and pulled out a pair of manacles after securing Arturo’s arms behind him.

Just as the electronic handcuffs clicked shut around Arturo’s wrists, another man dressed in a similar uniform walked in.

“Sir, we’ve checked the perimeter. The other two aren’t anywhere in the building.”

Quinn and Wade carefully picked their way through the bushes alongside of a multi-residential building a couple blocks down the road from New San Francisco Medical Center. They stopped for a moment to look out toward the street, watching as a number of vehicles hovered by.

\When it seemed like there were no more coming, Mallory moved quickly out and ran toward the next group of bushes; Wells was right behind him.

Little did they know that as they ran, a vehicle that had just passed them going toward the hospital swerved and turned around. It sped up and crossed the street and hovered above the grass.

The two Sliders stopped in their tracks behind the nearest bush. “Don’t move,” Quinn commanded, as the driver got out and briskly walked toward them. Wade watched in silent fear of what might happen.

The driver stopped near the bush and quietly said toward them, “Come quickly! We’ve got to get you out of here!”

Wade looked at Quinn, sending the question that silently asked if he was speaking to them.

“Come on!” the young man implored.

Quinn rose a little to look at the man, who was dressed like everyone else on this planet so far. The driver quickly moved around the bush toward him and suddenly stopped.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he offered politely. “I saw the report and I’m with the Futurists.”

“Why should I trust you?” Quinn demanded.

“You’d hate to see what the police’d do to you if you get caught.” He paused. “I can take you somewhere where you’ll be safe, but you have to come now.”

Mallory lowered himself down. “I don’t like this, Wade.”

“I don’t think I want to find out what he means about the police, though,” she whispered in reply.

He shook his head. “Even though this goes against my better judgment, we might as well go.”

The two got up and followed the man into his vehicle and it lifted off the ground and raced down the street.

“Better get your heads down,” the driver suggested. “Don’t want anyone else to see you.”

They did as they were told, Quinn in the front and Wade in the back. Soon enough, the landscape of the city was behind them and the land beyond the metropolis opened into more rural scenery. Mallory could see some trees above them.

“It’s okay to get up now that we’re out of the city,” the young man told them.

The Sliders got off the floor and sat up.

“Where are we going?” Quinn inquired.

Smiling, the young man replied, “To a little place out in the wilderness, where no one will find us.” He paused. “It’s our newest little base of operations in California. ‘Command Central,’ we call it.” He paused again, switching subjects. “My name’s Jason. Quinn, Wade, I’m glad to meet you.”

“How did you know our names?” Wade asked in surprise.

“Like I said, I saw the two of you with Maximilian Arturo on the report that was broadcast. As soon as that happened, I came looking for you three.” He turned to look at Mallory. “By the way, what happened to him?”

“Professor Arturo?” Quinn responded. “He was in a room where another of our friends was taken. We don’t know what happened after we left the hospital.”

“You have another friend there?” Jason asked. “What happened to him?”

“He was injured in the explosion,” Wade offered.

They went on for a short time without speaking, and Jason’s face showed pain, like he had suffered a great loss. Quinn could see that and didn’t ask. Finally, Jason spoke.

“My girlfriend Nancy was the woman who was killed,” he admitted with agony.

“My God!” Wade cried out. “I’m so sorry! We tried to get her out, but she wouldn’t come out of the car.”

Jason just shook his head. “She knew that she wasn’t supposed to let anyone see her, so she had to kill herself to save everyone else.”

He sighed, then continued: “I just don’t understand why she did that. Her mission was to plant that explosive on one of the older buildings out of the way of everyone.”

Quinn tried to muffle his voice as he turned to Wade, “I guess we must have interrupted her.”

Jason slowed the vehicle down and looked at him. “Then, you’re not really part of the movement, are you?”

“No, we’re not,” Mallory replied somberly.

“But, the police think that you are, so you’re not going to be safe anywhere else,” Jason told them. “Where are you from, anyway?”

“It’ll take some time to explain.”

“I think we’ve got the time,” the driver responded.

Quinn quickly explained about the Einstein-Rosen-Podolski Bridge and travelling to different dimensions as they drove on. Jason decided that as long as they weren’t staying on this world for too long, that it was an acceptable risk to bring them to headquarters for a day or so.

“What are the Futurists?” Wade asked after the discussion of where they came from had finished.

Jason turned to glance at her. “The principal driving force we have is getting people to turn their backs on the past. We want people to think about the future and where we – as a world – are going.”

“Why use bombs?” asked Mallory.

“Well, some people decided that talk and propaganda weren’t working, so we started to get a little attention by destroying an old monument in Washington, then we moved to New York and now here. Nan’s job was to wake New San Francisco up to the future. I only hope that she did.”

As a few trees brushed the sides of the vehicle, a small building came into sight and Jason set the vehicle down near it. As soon as the doors slid open, all three got out.

“I’ll have to explain everything to the others. We usually don’t bring outsiders here. It’s too risky bringing someone here that we don’t know,” the Futurist explained, then added: “Could be a government rat tried to expose our whereabouts.”

The inside of the building looked like a high-tech espionage nerve center. There were dozens of computer stations set up, so many that Wade couldn’t believe her eyes.

At the far end of the main room, the same broadcast that she had seen earlier was on a monitor. Arturo’s image appeared on the screen; his voice giving his name came from the terminal. Mallory’s image appeared next, then Wade’s.

The five people working the computers turned around when Jason called for their attention. “Everyone, this is Quinn and Wade. They’re the ones the police think had something to do with Nan’s bombing.”

A ravishing redhead got up and walked over to Jason’s right, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m Jen,” she introduced herself, then pointed to a thirty-something blonde man. “That’s Greg over there.”

The man called Greg half-turned and raised a hand in acknowledgment.

“Susan,” said Jen, pointing to a twentyish brunette near the far end of the room. Susan smiled to them.

A young black man, in his late teens approached them. “That’s Frankie,” the redhead said.

“And, over there, is Al,” motioning to the last person in the group, who was operating the main monitor, where the Sliders’ images had just played back.

The middle-aged man turned away from his work and approached the foursome. He looked somehow familiar. “Albert Mallory,” he said, extending his hand to Quinn.

“My God,” Quinn uttered, as he shook hands with Al.

Al shook hands with Wade, but looked Quinn up and down. “You look like my father when he was your age.”

Jason spoke up, “That’s probably because he may be your father, Al. If my understanding of their form of traveling is correct.”

Al looked at him in surprise, his lips parting as if he were going to say something, but Quinn quickly filled him in on what Jason already knew.

“My word,” Albert said. “I can hardly believe it.”

“We can’t stay long,” Quinn informed him. “We Slide tomorrow.”

“But, we have to find our friends first,” Wade added.

Jason glanced at his colleagues. “We’ll help you. We’ve managed to rescue a couple of our own – including Frankie – from the pollies before.” The two Sliders were looking at him questioningly. “That’s what we call the police,” he explained.

The redhead pulled Jason aside so that she stand closer to Quinn. She smiled at him, then at Wade, considering their archaic clothing. “First thing, though – we’d better get you some more modern clothes to wear, so that you don’t look so obvious.”

Jen lead the two to a small room in the back of the building where a few sleek beds had been set up. She shut the door behind them and proceeded to look over them.

She looked at Wade first. “You’re about Susan’s size, so I’ll get you one of hers.” Then, turning to Quinn, “You’re a little taller than Frankie, but similar body form,” she said aloud to herself.

She stepped over to a large metallic case and pressed a button on the edge of one of the panels, causing a drawer to slide out. She picked up a red and gold jumpsuit before pressing the button again to close the drawer.

Wade accepted it and Jen moved to a second chest of drawers to get a blue and gold jumpsuit for Quinn. “You’ll be able to wear them until you leave, okay?” she said and then left.

The two Sliders looked at each other, wondering whether they would get changed in each other’s presence.

“Um, I’ll wait outside,” Quinn finally decided.

Wade nodded, self-consciously. “Okay.”

Before he opened the door, though, she walked over to him.

“Quinn, do you really think they’ll help us find the professor and get Remmy before we Slide?” she asked.

He appeared a little uncertain, but tried to be optimistic. “I hope so,” he replied.

They stood for a moment in silent thought.

“What’s with these people anyhow?” she said. “Wanting to destroy things from the past?”

Mallory thought about that. “I don’t know, Wade. People have fought for things that they believe in for a long time. Maybe that’s the big issue on this world.”

“It just doesn’t seem right,” she complained.

“I know,” responded Quinn. “Get changed, then we can start planning how to find Remmy and the professor, okay?”

“Okay,” Wade replied resignedly as he opened the door and stepped out.

Arturo stared out from beneath the blazing light over his head and repeated himself for the fourth straight time:

“I am not from this world! I’ve explained the nature of the experiment that myself and my colleagues are running. We did not plant the explosive, nor are we involved with this ‘Futurists’ group!” he virtually shouted at the officers around him.

“It’s impossible!” one of the officers stepped forward and blasted him pointblank. “You’re involved with the Futurists!” he shouted again. “We know you are! The bomb residue couldn’t have come from anywhere else!”

The professor visibly recoiled from the assault, but gathered himself after a second. “We didn’t have anything to do with it!”

“YOU DID!” the officer shouted, as Arturo stared at him, wide-eyed.

A man wearing a white suit coat stepped forward and pulled the officer back. “Connley, the polygraph shows he’s telling the truth. Quit badgering him.”

The officer stepped back and angrily looked at the man, but then calmed down and returned to his seat.

The man in the white coat stood directly in front of the professor, looking at him, then turning to the side and cocking his head pensively. “You claim to have no knowledge of this woman who was killed?” he asked in a calm voice.

“No, I do not,” Arturo responded similarly calm.

“Yet, you were traveling in the same vehicle with her.”

“That is correct,” the professor replied.

“How is it that the woman came to be in the vehicle?”

“We were driving down the street when we came upon her. She claimed to have gotten lost and asked if we would take her back to the center. We agreed and she got in.”

“So, she was just wandering down a street and you offered her a ride?”

“Yes.”

“She was lost?”

“That is what she said.”

“Did she say why she was there?”

“She said she was with a tour group and was separated from it.”

“Did you try to locate her tour group?”

“No, we did not. We didn’t think of that.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because she asked us to take her back to the center. We thought that she was a lost tourist.”

“Well, she wasn’t!” cried another officer, leaping to his feet.

“We had just arrived on this world! We didn’t know anything about it!” Arturo said defensively.

The white-jacketed psychologist looked at his computer again and shook his head in disbelief.

“Stop! Stop!” he called, turning from the policemen to the professor and back. “We’re not getting anywhere, because this man doesn’t know anything about this.”

Connley jumped up. “You’re not going to let him go!”

“No,” the doctor said. “He can still be held on suspicion of conspiracy, so he won’t walk out of here. Prepare a room for him.”

All but three of the officers and the psychologist left the room and the lights returned to normal.

“I have to admit,” the doctor said, “you tell a strange story, but you can’t be lying.”

Arturo looked at him. “That’s because it’s the truth. I’m not from this world and I am due to be leaving within a short period of time. You must allow me to leave so that I may rejoin my colleagues and leave this world.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mister Arturo,” the doctor replied. “You are still a possible suspect in the bombing.”

With that, the psychologist walked out and two of the officers escorted Arturo away.

Much of the evening after dinner was spent discussing options on the rescue mission. Jason had sent out a couple of his people for reports from the city and had started to get some information on the whereabouts and conditions of Arturo and Rembrandt.

The Cryin’ Man was still in the hospital, improving, and likely to be moved to the police station. Arturo was already under lock and key at the police station, as he was not offering anything useful to the police.

“But, we do know where he’s being kept,” Jason told Quinn. “It won’t be too hard to locate him once we get inside.”

“Good,” the male Slider responded. “Anything else?”

Jason looked at his hand-computer and reread his notes. “That’s about all we can do tonight. We’ll have to do some prepping tomorrow, then we’ll head in after dark.”

“What time?” Wade spoke up.

“You’re due to be leaving at midnight, right?”

Both Quinn and Wade nodded.

“And since we have to get to the medical center and police station, we should plan to be there around eleven. That’s giving us an hour to get both of them out.”

“Okay!” Wade said, upbeat. “It’s a plan!”

The conference broke up; three of the Futurists went back to their stations to get back to monitoring what was going on in the wake of the bombing.

Jen and Jason remained at the table with Wade and Quinn. Jason was starting to talk with Quinn about the Sliding process, so Jen turned to Wade.

“Why don’t we go outside?” she suggested to the visitor. “Get some fresh air?”

Wade smiled agreeably and got up. The idea appealed to her and she thought it would be a good chance to talk with someone she might be able to connect with about this whole anti-history movement.

They went outside. There was no light, except for that from the moon. Even the lights from inside the building didn’t show. The air was a little cool, but very refreshing.

Wade walked over to a small aluminum picnic bench and sat down. Jen sat beside her.

“Nice view,” Wade offered, looking skyward.

“Yeah, it is,” Jen agreed. “I like to come out here at night and think about things. It’s relaxing.”

The red-haired Futurist tossed a glance toward the building. “Are you and Quinn involved?”

Wade almost blushed at the question and faltered over the answer. “Well, no.”

“But, you like him a lot, don’t you?”

She didn’t even have to think about it. “Yeah.”

“He seems like a great guy,” said Jen. “I only wish I could find someone like him. Maybe he’d get me away from all this.”

Wade took a moment to consider how to bring up her question.

“Why are you doing this?” she inquired cautiously. “I mean, why do you want to destroy old buildings and stuff like that?”

Jen looked away for a moment. “Life was a helluva lot harder in the past, so why would we want to preserve things that remind us of those times?”

“Because … it’s a part of who we are,” reasoned Wells. “It’s a part of the community that we built. Without those things, you never would have gotten where you are. I mean, think about it! The things that we do and the places we build, that’s what make us who we are.”

Jen absorbed Wade’s insight. “That’s sort of how the Preservationists rationalized the Old San Francisco Historic Site, but we knew that the past was like an anchor that kept us from moving forward. That’s why we want to rid ourselves of it.”

Her companion looked at her rather hard. “I don’t believe that. I believe that the past is the foundation for the future. If we remove that foundation, the building becomes unstable and collapses. If you don’t learn from the past, you’re doomed to repeat it.”

The analogy suddenly struck Jen somewhere very deep. She found herself lost, needing to re-examine her beliefs.

“I never thought about that,” she admitted. “I never thought about how we got here and what we’re doing right now.”

“It’s like the building that Nan was supposed to destroy. You may have learned how to build your buildings from its structural design,” Wade continued, trying to drive the point deeper. “And, your cars, they seem to be similar in design to the ones that were used fifty years ago. If you threw away the designs and had no idea how to make one, how could you get around?”

The redhead sat there, shaking her head. “But, we have them now. We don’t need any old ones. We know how to design them already.”

“The point is, you wouldn’t be able to if you hadn’t learned from the past, Jen,” Wells said, then pausing briefly.

“Many discoveries and innovations come from something that someone did fifty to a hundred years ago, but never finished it completely and someone from today finds it and completes the work. I know that there’s a lot out there today that can still be found, but think about the work that could help your world progress into the future that may be destroyed if you continue this,” she continued.

The redhead frowned, as if a headache were forming. “This is too much to think about. I don’t know what to do.”

Wade patted her on the shoulder. “I know it’s a lot. Your beliefs have been challenged. It’ll take time to understand, but you’ll know what to do.”

Jen looked up into the sky – to the stars – and thought for a while. “You’re probably right, Wade,” she admitted sullenly. “I’ve been blind for so long. My friends were involved in this and I had no direction in life. The Futurists gave me a purpose, so I joined. I came to believe their beliefs and held them close to my heart. Now, I wonder why I’m here at all … I mean, why I was born.”

Wade smiled slightly. “Maybe you were born to bring a great change to the movement. Maybe you were meant to show them that what they were doing wasn’t the right thing.”

Jen half-smiled at the thought. “Maybe.”

Just then, the door creaked open. Quinn and Jason walked out to join the two young women.

“What are you two up to?” asked Quinn.

“Nothing,” Wade replied.

“Just talking,” offered Jen.

Jason looked over at Quinn. Quinn just smiled in return, knowing that Wade really didn’t mean what she said.

“Well,” Jason addressed the two Sliders. “We usually sleep in shifts, especially before an operation. We were all awake today because of Nan’s operation and needed everyone to be on duty. Quinn, Wade, you can take first shift with Frankie and Susan. Greg will take second shift, you two can sleep through that, too. Then, Jen and I will take third shift …”

“Maybe a little longer,” Jen interrupted him.

He looked at her for a couple seconds, then finished his thought. “We’ll wake you up in the morning.”

“Sounds fine,” Quinn declared.

The four returned to the building, where Quinn and Wade returned to the sleeping area. Susan and Frankie were already lying down, so the Sliders chose beds and sacked out for the night.

When Wade and Quinn were awakened, Greg and the others had already left. Jen had bent over Quinn and rubbed his shoulder to wake him up. Jason woke Wade up on the next bed. Once they were out of bed, the Sliders smoothed over the wrinkles in their jumpsuits, while Jason told them what to do for breakfast.

After they had left, Jason sank into his bed against the side wall. Jen stalked over to him, instead of getting into her own bed, where Quinn had slept.

“Jason?” she asked, “can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

“Why?” he mumbled sleepily.

He opened his eyes when he heard the sound of Velcro coming apart. Jen let the jumpsuit fall off of her shoulders in front of him. He smiled nervously at her, wondering what she was up to. He knew that she had liked him for a while, but he and Nancy were too tight. He wouldn’t have crossed Nan if his life depended on it. But, now she was gone now.

“Please?” pleaded Jen.

It had been too long since he had really slept with anyone. He had to admit that he was attracted to Jen even though he had been with Nan since before Jen joined. He couldn’t deny her – or himself – any longer.

“Sure.”

Jen slid into his bed and wrapped her arms around him. “I know this probably isn’t the best time, Jason. You just lost Nan, but I need you now.”

Jen and Jason appeared from the sleeping area in early afternoon. Both, evidently well rested and in a good mood. The rest of the Futurists were already working and the Sliders sat at the main table watching and talking to each other.

Jason didn’t waste any time after he arrived.

“Everyone, I just wanted to let you know that I’ve done some thinking. I feel really bad about losing Nan … probably a little more than the rest of you, but we have our new friends to help out today. I spent most of the night thinking about this and I wanted to let you know that Jen will be second-in-command now. If anything should happen to me, she’s the most qualified person to run the show …” He paused and slowed down. “Now that Nan … has departed us.”

He turned to look at Jen, who was on the verge of blushing. “Congratulations, Jen!”

Everyone else clapped.

“I’m surprised, Jason,” she replied, in a very convincing tone. “Thank you very much!”

“You’re welcome, Jen,” he said, smiling back at her.

Jason savored the thrill of what had happened to bring about this moment. After a long moment, he decided to get something to eat and let everyone back to their routine.

“What was that all about?” Wade whispered to Quinn.

He whispered in reply: “Nan must have been his second-in-command until she died yesterday. It makes sense to name a new person to that position, so that if anything happens to him, they won’t be without a leader.”

She considered that and what she had done the previous night. “I think he made a good choice.”

Shortly before eleven that night, Quinn, Wade, Jen and Frankie assembled outside near the vehicle, while Jason got some last-minute items. He came out carrying a couple futuristic rifles along with scanning equipment.

Quinn walked up to him and placed his hand on the weapons in Jason’s hands, stopping the Futurist’s forward progress.

“What are you doing with these?” he demanded.

“We had a slight change in plans last night,” Jason explained. “Considering where the pollies are keeping Professor Arturo, I thought we might need some protection.”

“Protection?!” Wade interjected dumbfoundedly.

“Yeah, when they shoot at us, we shoot back,” said Frankie, as if that were routine.

The casualness with which the young black man delivered the statement left Quinn dumbstruck.

“No! We’re not going to shoot anyone!” he said with finality.

Jason looked at him fiercely. “Do you want to rescue your friends or get us killed?”

He stopped to collect himself after the sudden outburst. “Sorry,” he muttered. “This is my plan and I don’t want anything to go wrong. If something unexpected happens, I want to be prepared.”

Quinn backed down. “Okay, we’ll do it your way. Let’s just try to avoid using the guns,” he suggested.

“Deal,” replied Jason.

They climbed into the vehicle and departed.

At the police station, Arturo sat alone in a spartanly decorated room thinking of what to do. He realized that the Slide was less than an hour away, but there was no conceivable way for him to escape.

“Mister Mallory knows to Slide without me if anything happens,” he reminded himself. “I only hope that Mister Brown will be able to Slide with them.”

At that moment, he heard a thud against the wall near the door. He rose to prepare for whatever was going to happen.

Much to his surprise, when the door opened, Quinn entered carrying a rifle. Wade and Frankie came in behind him.

“Professor!” he greeted the older man in relief.

Arturo smiled broadly at his protégé. “Am I ever glad to see you, Mister Mallory!”

“Are you all right?” Wade asked.

“Quite,” responded the professor. “Where is Mister Brown?”

“Still at the hospital,” replied Quinn. “We’re going to get him now.”

“Why are you carrying that firearm, Mister Mallory? And …?”

Quinn glanced at his mentor. “I’ll explain later. We’ve got to get moving. There may be other police officers on the way.”

As the left the room, Jason came down the hall. “They’re coming!” Jason said quietly. He held out the scanner in front of him. “There’s a door of some sort just down the hall there.” He pointed the way.

The clapping of bootfalls could be heard from down the hall. The Sliders and the Futurists headed away from the room where the officer guarding Arturo lay unconscious outside.

As was required by law, an emergency exit was down the next corridor. Jason quickly located the alarm system and attached an electronic cube on it.

“This’ll deactivate the alarm, then I’ll open the door,” he explained quickly.

The device latched itself onto the alarm array and blinked a few times before a solid green showed. “We’re clear,” said Jason, forcing the doors apart.

The five of them ran out as fast as they could. The doors sealed themselves this time, so the police couldn’t tell that they had exited that way, until the alarm suppressor was found.

The group rendezvoused with Jason’s vehicle, when Jen swooped around to pick them up.

A few minutes later, they arrived at New San Francisco Medical Center. Quinn reasoned that the best way in was where they had escaped from. Since he had damaged the emergency doors, he figured that they would have been deactivated for now.

As luck would have it, when the group arrived at the emergency doors that Quinn and Wade had fled through, they found the doors in the same condition as the previous day. One was still slightly ajar and protruding against the other.

Quinn cracked open the door and peeked inside. The hall was dark and empty. He slipped in and held the door for the others. Jason handed him the rifle again and Jen held the other one.

They quietly sneaked down the corridor, switching to the other side before the next corridor opened up. Seeing nobody, Quinn motioned to move on.

Since it was so late at night, there probably weren’t many people around. Soon enough, the group arrived at Rembrandt’s room and there were no signs of anybody around. Quinn opened the door and raised his rifle.

Inside to room, Brown was lying on the bed, awake. He stared at what he saw until Mallory put down the rifle. Wade rushed ahead and gave Remmy a big hug.

“How are you doing?” she asked him.

The Cryin’ Man gave a cockeyed smile, while he placed a hand of the back of his head. “Feels like I got hit with a 100 centimeter shell, but I feel better now.”

Jen let the door close behind her after she came in.

“What’s going on?” asked Rembrandt, indicating the weapons three of his rescuers carried. “Where the professor? And, who’s she?”

“Rembrandt, this is Jen,” Mallory introduced them. “Jen, Rembrandt.”

Wade was quick to offer an explanation. “She and Jason helped us rescue the professor and now you.” As an afterthought, she said, “We’ll be Sliding shortly.”

Quinn pulled out the timer and looked at it. “The professor’s outside with Frankie. We’ve got to get outta here.”

Wade began helping Rembrandt get up from the bed, when the door opened again. They figured it was just Jason coming, but he wasn’t alone.

Jason was in a choke-hold of a man dressed in black and blue. The golden cuffs identified him as a police officer.

“I guess I thought you’d taken care of him,” Brown said offhand.

The officer sneered. “Looks like I’m due for a promotion, now that I’ve captured four of you Futurists. I’ll speak with the chief himself as soon as I take you in.”

Jen raised her rifle. “Let him go!”

The officer produced a small pistol. “I wouldn’t try that,” he retorted, placing the gun to Jason’s temple. “Drop the rifles or he dies!”

Mallory placed the rifle he carried onto the bed and took a step back from it.

“Shoot him!” Jason struggled to shout.

The officer tightened his choke-hold on Jason and pressed the barrel deeper into his temple.

Jen still held her rifle up, aimed for both Jason and the officer. “Jason, I can’t do it!” she said in an unstable voice, as her hands began shaking. “You’re in the way.”

The officer pushed the Futurist leader forward and approached Jen.

Suddenly the rifle went off and clattered to the ground. The officer dropped his pistol suddenly. The bullet had gone through Jason and straight into the officer.

The officer couldn’t keep his grip on the Futurist as his strength fled from his muscles. He toppled over backwards; blood streamed out of his chest.

Jason, though, was loosing blood even faster.

“My God!” Jen cried out in shock. “I didn’t mean to do that!” She fell to her knees, unable to stand. “Jason, please forgive me! I didn’t mean to do that!”

With the last of his strength, Jason turned his head to face her and smiled before coughing badly. “It’s … o … kay … Jen.”

He coughed once more, then breath alluded him.

Jen started crying hard. “I … can’t …” She stopped. “Jason!”

Quinn looked at his other two friends. “Come on! That shot will’ve alerted anyone in this wing. We’ve gotta get out of here now or we won’t make it.”

He knelt down, placed Jen’s arm across his shoulders and lifted her up. She was sobbing heavily and could hardly move. Thinking quickly, he hoisted her up and carried her in both arms. The others were already out the door and running. Quinn moved as best he could with Jen in his arms.

Brown picked up the rifle that Quinn had put down and led the way out of the room.

Arturo and Frankie were waiting at Jason’s vehicle when the three Sliders returned with Jen.

“What the devil happened in there?” the professor demanded.

“Jason’s dead,” answered Quinn. “We’ve got to get her back to her center.”

Wade interrupted that line of thought. “Quinn, we can’t! We Slide in about fifteen minutes! We’ll never make it back to their base before we have to Slide.”

Brown looked at the small hover-vehicle. “Besides, there’s no way all six of us can fit in there.”

He was carefully placing Jen in the passenger-side seat of the vehicle, and glanced at its interior.

“You’re right, Remmy,” Mallory admitted. “But, we can’t stay here, so we’d at least better get these guys on their way.”

He looked at the other Futurist. “Frankie, you’ll be able to get her home, won’t you?”

The young black man nodded. “Yeah. I’ll worry about her. You gotta worry about them.”

“You’re right,” replied Mallory. “Take good care of her. She’s going to be in shock for a little while, then she’ll need someone to talk to.”

He stepped back to the young redhead. “Everything’s going to be alright, Jen. You did what had to be done. Jason knew that. He would’ve been grateful for what you did.”

Her pallid face turned and the haze in her eyes cleared slightly. “Quinn,” she murmured almost too softly for him to hear.

“Don’t talk,” he whispered gently to her. “You’ll be back home pretty soon. I have to go.”

“Quinn,” she muttered again.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, smiling at her.

He was about to send her on her way, but she reached out a shaky, pallid hand to touch his cheek. He took hold of it, massaged it a little and then gently placed it back in her lap.

“Take care of yourself, Jen,” Quinn said gently, then he stepped back and let Frankie close the doors and take off.

Wade and Quinn waved as they left.

After the vehicle had hovered away, Arturo cleared his throat. “Shall we be moving along? I do not intend to be taken into custody by this world’s police again.”

The reunited Sliders disappeared into the nearby residential area, under cover of the night and headed back toward the place where they came in, Old San Francisco.

Fifteen minutes later, they stood on a hill almost a mile from the familiar buildings they knew. Quinn took a moment to look at the high-tech city that they were about to leave. The gateway opened with a slight roar in the center of the dark street.

Wade turned to join Quinn in looking at the new city of San Francisco.

“I hope everything turns out well for Jen and her friends,” she said to him.

“So do I,” he responded.

Arturo gave a last glance to the new city before jumping into the wormhole. Brown followed him.

Wade was next in line, but hesitated.

“I told Jen how the past is the foundation for the future. I think she believes that now. I doubt she’ll allow the Futurists to continue bombing and killing people,” she confided in Quinn.

He smiled and nodded. “I doubt she well, either.”

Wade smiled back, then turned and jumped into the gateway with Quinn right behind her.

Quinn tumbled out of the wormhole to find that it had dropped them into a large, open concrete area surrounded by towering red I beams. They had landed in the middle of a construction area.

Arturo helped Wells get to his feet, while Brown found his feet. After Mallory had gotten up, he looked around.

“Speaking of foundations,” Quinn said jokingly, eliciting laughter from his companions as they picked their way out of the building’s basement.



THE END