Free Extracted by Sherry Ficklin, Tyler Jolley Page A

light up and dilate. I glance down at my hand, interlocked with Stein’s, and then at her face as the common room starts to dissolve behind her. Our skin becomes more and more transparent until we are pulled by an invisible rope and stretched into thin strands, like taffy being pulled.
    A rush of wind and a blur of colors replace the common room, and usually at this point, we’re spewed out at our destination. This time, though, our transparent bodies start to take form. I watch my hand become denser, more solid. Tiny, skin-colored particles start stacking on top of each other until my hand is fully formed. The process repeats itself on Stein and Nobel.
    It’s like my mouth is full of cotton. “You guys feel okay?”
    “Yeah, I’m fine,” Stein shouts against the wind.
    Nobel gives me a thumbs-up.
    Pulling the DNA Detector out of his lab coat, Nobel pushes the button. The gears on the end start to spin and suck up wisps of the time stream. He waves it around until the end dips, then lets it pull him toward Sisson.
    The DNA Detector pulls Nobel in a zigzag motion through the blur like a Great Dane pulling its master. He motions for us to follow, and Stein and I move behind him, but our movements are slow without the extra pull of the machine. I push forward as sweat rolls into my eyes. I can’t tell if we’re actually making progress or not. There are no reference points, no way to tell if we’re moving at all. I can’t help wondering if the device is really working, or if the DNA Detector is taking us on a wild goose chase. Just wandering like this makes me dizzy. Stein isn’t doing well either. A sheen of sweat is forming right above the cupid’s bow of her lip.
    And Stein never sweats.
    * * *
    By the time we get to her, Sisson is lying in the time stream flat on her back. Her clothes are ripped, she’s bleeding, and she’s unconscious. White strands of the time stream have cocooned her, woven into her hair, and are drawing the color from it. Two small robots with glass dome heads are attached to her waist and foot. We hurry over to her and pull her from the invisible hammock. I’m afraid I’m going to pull her arm out of its socket, so instead I bear-hug her and start pulling. Frantically, we work, not knowing what damage the time stream has done to Sisson.
    “She’s breathing.” Nobel shakes his head like he’s surprised. “I think the time stream has protected her somehow, kept her alive. That’s why she’s wrapped in that stringy stuff.”
    “Can she swallow, though?” I ask.
    “I don’t know,” Nobel replies. “We need to get these Gear Heads off her.”
    Using my fingernail to pierce the hard gel covering of the Contra pill, I pry Sisson’s mouth open and carefully drip the contents under her tongue.
    Then I pry the claws of one mechanical creature off her foot as Stein wrestles with the metal lasso that the other has wrapped around Sisson’s waist. She slides it up and off Sisson, along with the machine attached to it. We let them go, and they are blown away. Lost in the time stream.
    Good riddance.
    I pop a pill into my mouth just as Nobel and Stein do, and we all grab hold of Sisson.
    In a blur of motion and color, we are pulled from the time stream. I hold my breath, because returning home always has the sensation of walking under a waterfall without getting drenched. Gloves is already there as we materialize into the common room. Some of the same Hollows that watched us spar are also there, staring with concerned expressions. Low voices whisper to each other around us. Silence sweeps through the room as they see Sisson’s limp, bloody body.
    Moving quickly, I lay Sisson on a tattered Oriental rug in the center of the room. Nobel holds her head while I kneel at her side, and Stein stands behind me with her arms folded.
    “This should take care of it,” Gloves says, taking a gas mask with a blender attached to the mouthpiece from a compartment in his wheelchair.
    Nobel must know the