Slideways

by Jeffrey Grode

  When she finished telling him Patsy’s history, they cleaned up the breakfast plates and took them back inside the house. Patrick washed the dishes and put them in the drying rack, as Betsy dressed upstairs.

  On the ride to Carmichael’s train station, he described how noisy his commute on Earth had been compared to Terra’s solar vehicles. He wasn’t trying to be funny, but she chuckled and patted his hand. He laughed too. It felt surreal how comfortable they seemed with each other, even though they were strangers.

  Patrick thanked her for her help, and hospitality. He felt awkward, and anxious, and eighteen again. When he’d escorted his Betty home after their first date, he wasn’t sure if he should, or could, kiss her goodbye. What would be most proper with Miss Betsy? Muscle memory took over and he embraced her with a hug. Maybe he held her a little too long. It was hard to let her go.

  Betsy disengaged the embrace. “Good luck.”

  Patrick, unsure if she took pity upon him for his watery eyes, stood still as she kissed him gently on the lips.

  “Patrick,” she said, taking a step back, “please find what you need and come back for me. We can look for Albert together.”

  He boarded the train with his borrowed suitcase and found a window seat. She waited and watched from inside Albert’s electric car until the train pulled away.

  Chapter 11

  Ben sat inside the gazebo and listened as Terra’s Grandma Betsy finished telling him about GranPat’s kidnapping on Earth, how she’d met his grandfather at the picnic grounds yesterday, and that he’d left for Carlston by train this morning to search for a portal device.

  “But I already have a portal watch.” Ben stood. “I need to leave now so I can find him.”

  “Not just yet.” She motioned for him to sit. “We need to chat for little bit. Get to know each other.”

  Ben sat back down and narrowed his eyes. What did she want? He remembered Albert’s confusion and surprise at seeing him at dinner yesterday. Doubt poked beneath his skin like a persistent tick. “I have a question.”

  She tilted her head forward an inch. “Proceed.”

  “Okay.” He didn’t smile. “Have you seen my Terran doppelganger recently?”

  Her face fell. She gathered her words as carefully as if they were broken shards of glass on the kitchen floor. “Ben, you’re very perceptive. You always were. I’ve bad news, but remember I’m talking about your doppelganger. Not you.”

  As Ben nodded for her to continue, his face hardened.

  “There was a car accident.” Betsy swallowed. “My Ben . . . was killed on impact while saving his dog, Ginger.”

  Ben pictured himself in the dark brown coffin with the pearl handles. People crowded around the casket to mourn. His eyes strained to see their faces, but his sight couldn’t pierce the gauzy veil. Both he and Terra’s Jack had lost their doppelgangers. He rolled the dice. “What about Jack?”

  “He’s alive and well.” Grandma said.

  Ben smiled so wide he swallowed the sky. “Woo-hooo! Where can I find him?”

  She blinked her puffy eyes. “He’s in Carlston working for the summer.”

  Ben squeezed her hand. “Is he happy? Is he taller? Does he have a girlfriend?”

  “Yes, yes, and yes. He’s going to Pitt this fall.”

  “On a football scholarship?” I’ll need one too if I’m going to MIT.

  “No. Track and field.” Grandma’s face scrunched. “Ben, tell me what happened on Earth.”

  Ben’s excitement fled on his next breath. “No . . . I’d rather not.” My real brother died because of me.

  “Please.” Her eyes watered. “I need to understand.”

  He slumped into his chair and told her about the last day he saw his brother alive. It happened on a Saturday, two summers ago. They were thirteen and sixteen years old. He tiptoed into Jack’s room at 8:45 on the Saturday morning. Jack slept on his stomach with his left arm trailing down to the blue shag carpet.

  Ben knelt near his brother. “C’mon Jack. Wake up.” Jack’s left eye fluttered open. “You promised you’d run with me this morning. Three and a half miles tops. Just over to Grover Cleveland and back.”

  “I’m trying to sleep.” Jack rolled onto his back and pulled his pillow over his face. “Had a late night, and I have to work today.”

  “I’m just asking for a couple hours,” Ben said. “The run will be good for you too, football hero. Big season coming up, and you need to look good for the college scouts.”

  The pillow flew toward Ben. “Smartass,” Jack said.

  Ben folded his arms. “You know I’m right.”

  “All right.” Jack rolled out of bed. “Give me a minute.”

  Once dressed, they jogged downstairs and into the kitchen to say goodbye to Mom. She hugged each of them and Ben felt her squeeze him all the way to his ribs.

  “Did you get the paper for me this morning?” she asked Ben.

  He smiled. “I left it on the foyer table.”

  “Thanks, Benzo.” She followed them to the door and slipped the folded paper under her arm.

  As they left the house, Mom watched them stretch on the lawn. She smiled at them when they turned to say goodbye. Her face showed interest, love, and humor accentuated by deep laugh lines. “Have a good run.” Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Oh, wait. Have you seen Kipper?” Mom searched the street from the porch. “She may have followed Dad’s car again.”

  Ben glanced at the white picket fence in front of the house and frowned. The gate stood wide open.

  Jack scanned the neighborhood. “I don’t see her, but we can jump in my car and take a look.”

  Mom shook her head. “No, don’t worry. I’ll find her. You boys go ahead. I’ll just get my keys.” She walked back inside the house.

  They jogged ten yards to the street. Ben stopped, closed the gate behind him, and hurried after Jack as he ran down Keiser Avenue.

  The morning sun grew slowly over the horizon. Jack led two strides ahead as their feet pounded the cement sidewalk. Ben kept pace. He knew his older brother could outdistance him if he wanted.

  “Thanks for running with me, bro,” Ben said.

  “Hey, it’s all good. I need this too.” Jack looked left and right on the cross street. “Why did you want to run with me?”

  Ben thought for a moment. “No reason. Just wanted to talk a little bit. You’re never around anymore.”

  “Yeah, I know. Been working a lot.”

  Ben smirked. “Don’t forget Charmaine! You spend a lot of time at her house.”

  “Right. Who could forget Charmaine?” Jack chuckled half under his breath. “But okay, I’ve been a piss poor brother. What’s this really about? Somebody bothering you?”

  “No, nothing like that. I can take care of myself.”

  “Yeah, Okay. Is this about a girl?”

  Ben swallowed. “What?”

  “Yea. A girl.” Jack smirked after he read Ben’s face. “Is she cute?”

  Ben’s mouth formed a small grin “Yes, but she’s a friend from school. She’s a year ahead of me, but we sit next to each other in advanced science. She’s trying out for cheerleading this morning.”

  “Oh, I get it. The cheer competition is at GC today. You needed a wingman. Right?” They turned left onto East Ribald Street, and hurried across the intersection. “What’s her name?”

  “You’ve met Lori before.”

  “Oh. I thought you were just buds. You hang out much?”

  “Sometimes we talk. Or at least she talks. I don’t really know what to talk about.”

  “Want some advice?” Jack glanced at him.

  “Maybe, just some ideas.” He tried not to blush.

  Jack nodded. “You’re kinda shy. I might have been a little shy at your age too.” Jack slowed so they ran side by side.

  “No you weren’t.” Ben replied.

  “Okay. Okay. You’re different. Let’s say you’re just quiet, but strong. A thinker. You don’t want, or have to
do all the talking. Right?”

  “Right.” They passed an elderly woman walking a small brown terrier. The dog pulled against the leash as they passed.

  “Rusty!” she called.

  Jack looked over his shoulder, saw the woman was fine, and turned back to Ben. “What’s Lori like?”

  “What do you mean ‘like’?” Ben squinted as they ran east into the morning sun. The street was wet from last night’s rain. A silver Volvo jounced through a pothole with an audible thud and splashed Ben’s shoes. He glanced over his shoulder and saw more cars coming their way.

  Jack juked around a cardboard box on the sidewalk. “Personality. Is she nice, mean, bossy, smart, or whatever? Some people want to be friends, and others might want something from you. Always look for the nice ones.”

  “She’s smart and nice.”

  “Easy peasy.” Jack said. “Look. Some guys talk too much. Better to listen, offer opinions, and ask questions. Don’t go on and on about yourself. Never lie. You’ll get the hang of it.”

  They slowed at a busy corner with a traffic light, shops, parked cars, and a few pedestrians. Another dog barked, but this one sounded familiar. Ben slowed to a stop and searched the intersection. Kipper stood on the sidewalk across the street from them as cars zipped past.

  She saw him, lifted her head, and turned to cross the street.

  “No. Kipper!” Ben shouted. He stepped between two parked cars and rested a hand on the hood of a blue Toyota.

  “Stay, Kips!” Jack called just behind him.

  Kipper ran toward them into traffic. A horn blared and a black Chevy truck rolled past.

  Thud-dunk.

  Across the street, Kipper lay on the concrete curb. Still.

  “No, no, no,” Jack breathed.

  “Kipper!” Ben cried. He turned his feet, pushed off the parked car, and ran into traffic.

  “Wait!” Jack called.

  Ben took another step and felt two hands push him. He was propelled forward and fell near the far curb.

  Ba-Bang. Brakes squealed behind Ben. A foul, rubbery smell filled his nostrils. He lay near Kipper’s side. Blood dripped from her nose and mouth. Her back legs looked wrong.

  Her eyes met Ben’s, blinked, and closed, but she was still breathing.

  Ben pushed himself to his feet and turned to look for his brother. Jack lay face down on the road - broken and bloody. Glass splinters sparkled on the pavement around his head like fallen stars. Ben ran to Jack’s side and knelt.

  “Oh, my God!” Ben said, as he squeezed his brother’s limp hand. Jack’s eyes were open, but didn’t move. Blood dripped from his mouth and his neck looked . . . crooked.

  A young woman with freckles joined them from the sidewalk and glanced at Jack. “Jesus.” She called 9-1-1.

  A dark haired man in a business suit knelt next to Ben. “He ran right in front of me. It wasn’t my fault.” His hands shook as he studied Ben’s face. “You.”

  Ben met the man’s dazed eyes.

  “You’re the one he pushed out of the way,” the dark haired man said. “It’s your fault I hit him.”

  A tidal wave of sorrow took him under and squeezed the breath from his lungs.

  Ben sniffed, wiped his eyes, and felt ashamed for what happened and for not being stronger, or smarter, or able to change the past. “It’s my fault he’s gone.”

  Tears rolled down Grandma’s cheeks. “You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

  “Jack died saving me,” he cried. “I would trade places with him in a minute if I could.” He cleared his throat and his lips formed a wisp of a smile. “But I’m happy your Jack is still alive. I can’t wait to see him.”

  She stood and held out her arms. “Come here.”

  Ben slowly rose from his chair and let her hug him.

  “Hey, now,” she said. “You cannot control random events. It’s not your fault.”

  He drew back and looked at his feet. “Yes, it is.”

  “Ben. Look at me.”

  He did, and her eyes were sea green just like he remembered.

  “Ben, it’s not your fault. You have to let it go.” Her face grew firm.

  He shook his head. “I can’t forget what happened. I’m responsible. Jack would still be alive if I let him sleep in that morning.” But there was one more truth he hadn’t admitted to anyone - Kipper hadn’t followed Dad to work that morning.

  She sat back down and he did the same.

  “I’ll tell you the same thing I told my Jack,” said Grandma Betsy. “Bad things happen. You have to move on, not by forgetting the bad memories, but remembering the good ones. Find the balance. Forgive others who may have hurt you, but more importantly, forgive yourself for being human. We don’t have control over everything that touches us, our families, or our world. That’s God’s domain. All He asks is that we do our best.”

  Ben remained silent and thought about what she said. Could he forgive himself for Jack’s death? No. I don’t think I can.

  She tilted her head. “I’m sure your parents told you the same thing.”

  “No. They refuse to talk about Jack, or the accident.” Ben frowned. “Mom gets too upset.”

  “Dear Lord. That’s not fair to you.” She patted his hand.

  Ben blew out a breath. “Why should life be fair to me? If life was fair, I would have died instead of Jack, just like what happened here on Terra!”

  Grandma Betsy took a sharp breath, but pressed her lips together and waited. Minutes passed.

  Ben shifted in his seat. “Sorry, I raised my voice. Sorry about your Ben.” He swallowed. “I need to see Jack while I’m here.”

  “I thought as much, but the trip may be too dangerous. If they find you with the portal watch you could be imprisoned.”

  Ben’s forehead furrowed. “I have to go. Besides, I can’t stay here and wait for CSD to find me.” He maintained eye contact. “I’m going to Carlston to find my grandfather and take him home.”

  Grandma nodded with a grim smile.

  “And I promise we’ll find Albert too.”

  “Thank you.” She raised her right eyebrow. “And . . .?”

  “Today is Jack’s birthday.” Ben grinned. “He always liked surprises.”

  Chapter 12

  Patrick watched the Terran countryside slide by the train’s passenger window. The landscape between Carmichael and Carlston paralleled Earth’s until he glimpsed a beautiful hillside community perfectly terraced within a hardwood forest. The homes’ many windows reflected the morning sunlight upon the green river valley below.

  Huh. Patrick blinked. This same hillside on Earth, strip-mined for coal twenty years ago, had been replaced with a shopping mall and parking lots.

  Click, Click, Click. His shoulders tensed. The sharp sting of the conductor’s needle still haunted him. Turning his head toward the aisle, he searched for Hoss, his CSD abductor. Instead, a young woman with brown hair tucked under her uniform cap smiled at him.

  She clicked his ticket and that of the skinny man beside him. The skinny man’s serious brown eyes sheltered beneath thick bushy eyebrows. He scrutinized the conductress, his paper, and then Patrick. The man carefully folded his newspaper and offered it to him.

  Patrick thanked him and browsed the headlines. The lead story condemned Russikistan for continued support of petrochemical use for vehicles and industry. Another article told of the twentieth anniversary of the green revolution and the improved environmental health since the discovery of S41K. The chip allowed for vastly improved solar energy storage and a virtually limitless, and wireless, supply of energy.

  The skinny man cleared his throat.

  Patrick looked up.

  “I see you’re reading about the solar chip.” The man seemed anxious about something.

  “Yes.” Patrick studied his face, but didn’t feel threatened. “Quite a breakthrough. Cleaner and greener, eh?”

  The skinny man sucked in a quick breath. “I worked on the development team at Unizol-Carmich
ael. Of course, I was only a young lab technician at the time, but working on the chip, and with Dr. Dugan, was the highlight of my career.”

  Patrick’s swallowed. “Albert Dugan?” His eyes moved quickly to the exit door then back.

  “The inventor. Aren’t you familiar with his work?” The man tilted his head and raised a bushy eyebrow. “Funny, I haven’t seen him for twenty years, but you look like an older version of—”

  “I’ve heard that before,” Patrick chuckled. “Do you know where I might find him?”

  “No.” The skinny man frowned. “Sorry. Do you work for the Commonwealth?” he asked in a low voice.

  “No, no, not at all. Just curious.” Patrick closed the newspaper and held it in his lap. “Do you think the S41K chip was responsible for the ban on petrochemicals?”

  The man nodded and leaned closer. “Yes, to some degree. It allowed for a cheaper energy alternative when we most needed one. The Green Apostle, his followers, and Parliament did the rest. I remember how proud I was of the Petrol-ban and the Plastic Purge. I felt like we’d finally done something important for the environment.” His bushy eyebrows rose then rested.

  “Very impressive,” Patrick said. “I wish I could say the same.” If Earth had this technology, they could break the chains to petrochemical dependence and finally begin to clean up their world. He grinned, but it soon faded. What would happen if he and Albert shared their portal discovery? Revolutionary change and . . . chaos.

  The train’s deceleration brought Patrick back from his reverie. He’d arrived at the Carlston station. Unsure whether the CSD had anticipated his movements, he peered out the window for anyone who might pose a threat. He spied no agents, policeman, or thugs, only travelers like himself.

  He said goodbye to the skinny man and stepped off the train with Albert’s suitcase. The early morning fog had burned away and he felt the warm afternoon sun. A green and brown poster on the station wall read Farming Feeds the World. He took a deep breath and caught the faint scent of fertilizer from a nearby field.