Vortex by Julie Cross

you get to New York,”
     Marshall said.
    The second Marshall dismissed us to pack our bags, I headed straight for Dad. We had
     to get out of this. He had to let me go on whatever mission he was going on or at
     least find a way to go to New York with me.
    Unfortunately, Marshall jumped right in my path. “You wanted to be a big boy and play
     secret agent, so that’s what you’re going to do. Dad can’t follow you everywhere.”
    I glanced at Dad, his face revealing more anger than I’d ever seen before. Marshall
     was testing us … both of us. He was testing our commitment to Tempest and also punishing
     us for running off by ourselves so many times. I let most of my fury out in one long
     breath, knowing I was risking more than just my own punishment. He’d take it out on
     Dad. “I was just going to ask where we’d be staying.”
    “At your home, I presumed,” Marshall said, looking bored with the question.
    “I’d rather not, sir, if that’s okay.”
    “Fine. We own an apartment down the hall from Agent Kendrick’s,” Marshall said, surprising
     me. “You can stay there for the week.”
    Marshall waved Kendrick over and told her about the housing plan, then his eyes narrowed
     at her. “I understand you were given a task by your partner that you did not complete.
     Is this true?”
    Her eyes dropped to the floor. “Yes.”
    “You’ve earned twelve hours of stitching up cadavers in the morgue,” he snapped. “Dr.
     Melvin will supervise.”
    The color completely drained from Kendrick’s face and I felt like the biggest ass
     in the world. Kendrick kept her eyes on the floor and mumbled, “Yes, sir.”
    The second Marshall had walked away from us, I tugged on Kendrick’s sleeve. “You have
     an apartment in New York? You live there?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Where? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
    “Because you never asked.” She sighed and looked away from me. “East Village … that’s
     where I live.”
    “East Village?”
    She rolled her eyes. “I’m a med student at NYU … obviously you knew that.”
    Yeah, I did. And now she had to sew up dead people, all because Dad gave me that little
     piece of information. I shut up then to avoid making her even more pissed off at me.
     As I walked out the door, I heard Dad say, “Jackson?”
    I turned around, but Chief Marshall stood between us, arms folded across his chest.
     The pained expression Dad wore made my stomach feel even sicker than earlier.
    “Yeah, Dad?”
    “Be careful.”
    “I will.” I left and caught up with Kendrick, deciding to drag one more answer out
     of her. “Aren’t you worried … about going home? Running into people you know while
     you’re doing secret-agent stuff?”
    “I’m a lot more worried about getting through the seven-hour flight.” She flung the
     door open to her room and went inside, leaving me to guess what she meant.

 
    CHAPTER SIX
    JUNE 10, 2009, 7:00 P.M.
    It took an hour and a half of the seven-hour flight for me to see what Kendrick meant.
     Honestly, I’d never seen anyone with such terrible motion sickness.
    “We’ve ridden in helicopters dozens of times, how is this different?” I asked her
     as she leaned over the garbage can I had just swiped from the bathroom a few minutes
     ago.
    “I’m fine for an hour or so … and then this … happens.” Her face was buried deep in
     the garbage can now as she heaved out whatever was left in her stomach.
    Luckily, this was a private government flight. I waved Dr. Melvin over despite Kendrick’s
     protests. She wiped her face with a tissue and leaned back against the chair, closing
     her eyes.
    “You’ve got to give her something. She’s been barfing for two hours straight … started
     about ninety minutes into the flight,” I said to him.
    “I can knock her out with antinausea drugs.”
    Kendrick shook her head vigorously. “The second I’m unconscious, one of those evil
     time-traveling bastards is going to pop up on