Slideways

by Jeffrey Grode

  “No, sir.”

  “Can you explain why the intruders, or burglars, broke into this basement and spilled blood, but didn’t steal or destroy this equipment? They left it powered up. They even had an assault team positioned nearby.” Mike Miller studied his reaction.

  John took a breath, shifted his feet, looked at the equipment, and then back to Miller. “Just guessing. Maybe he contacted someone, intentionally or not, who became interested in his equipment. Someone who wanted the communication line to stay open.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Again, no idea, but the body you found is probably your best clue. Who was he? Where are his people?” John balled his fists. “You need to find who kidnapped Patrick and my son and bring them home.”

  Miller looked to Lovitsky. “We can only assume they’re after Patrick’s technical, or even classified information.”

  “So what the fuck are you doing to find them?” A tear rolled down John’s cheek.

  “Everything we can,” Miller said. “We’re following some leads right now. Please be patient. We need your help.”

  John cleared his throat. “Okay. This . . . equipment is currently on, but it’s also transmitting. Right?” John wiped his cheek.

  “Yes,” Lovitsky said.

  “Have your experts tried to trace the signal?” John asked.

  “Yes. We’ve been unsuccessful. We don’t have the necessary equipment yet.”

  “Agent Miller, if these intruders believe it’s so important to keep this equipment running, wouldn’t it make sense just to turn it off? That might force them to return, and then you’ve got them. It might help us find Ben and Patrick.”

  “We thought of that, and we may turn it off, but we need to study the equipment. We have electronics and physics experts arriving today.”

  “That’s all well and good, but you need send out a team to find my son, and Patrick, before it’s too late. If anything bad happens to—”

  “We’re on your side, Mr. Fuller. We want to get them back too,” Agent Miller said. “That’s all for now, but we’ll be in touch. Sheriff Banks could you escort Mr. Fuller back to his car?”

  As Banks and John climbed the basement steps and moved into the kitchen, Deputy Daniels escorted a man past John and down the steps. The man in his mid-sixties looked both annoyed and excited at the same time. He wore a gray goatee, a dark pinstripe suit, and government credentials around his neck. John blinked. Dr. Caliban. Did Patrick’s golfing buddy have anything to do with Ben’s disappearance?

  Chapter 26

  After breakfast, Lori and Jack helped clean the kitchen while Zhing washed Bridget’s food encrusted hands and face. Ruth smiled at Ben and held his hand.

  Ben frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” Ruth whispered.

  “Let’s walk outside.” Ben led Ruth into the warm Terran sunshine. If he found GranPat today and slid back to Earth, he might never see her again. She cared about him. Why? Maybe she saw only the good in people. He knew his faults like a dog knows a bone, but her smile gave him hope.

  Earth’s Ruth, and her Rouge persona, had made him look and feel like a fool. She’d meant to hurt him when she painted his drunken body with makeup. He’d no desire to go anywhere near her again, but why were Rouge and her Terran counterpart, Ruth, so different from each other? Terra’s Ruth made him feel better about himself . . . and a little less confused about Lori.

  They walked hand-in-hand down the drive toward the car. In the adjacent woods, a fog lay low across the ground. Ruth squeezed his hand. He wanted to be her boyfriend, but maybe he didn’t deserve her. Had he been honest with her? No. She didn’t even know his real name, or that he was Jack’s brother, one universe removed. Telling her the truth might put her in danger.

  As they approached the VW, Ruth let his hand drop, put her arm around his waist, and kissed his lips. She didn’t give him the crazy, rushed, fumbling kiss he remembered from last night. She treated him to the slow, morning after, sweet, I want-to-see-you-again kiss. He’d never experienced anything like it. Maybe he didn’t need to break up with her right away.

  He squeezed her hand, led her to the forest path, and into woods. They soon found themselves in the misty glade of an old pine forest. Reddish brown pine needles covered the forest floor and the air grew thick with a tangy scent of resin. They moved deeper into the woods. Ruth stopped, kissed him, and started to remove his clothes. Ben followed her lead. They lay on the soft pine needles, lost in the delirious pleasure of their warm bodies.

  Afterward, they sought each other’s eyes, and laughed. His smile slipped when he saw the portal watch laying atop her clothes. Ben rolled over, pushed himself upright, and helped Ruth to her feet.

  “Oh, so you had my panties.” She smirked. “I need them back.”

  “Done.” Ben smiled. As he handed her the panties, he reached for his portal watch.

  “Wait.” Ruth snagged the watch first and held it behind her back. “Those people were after you and this watch last night. Right?” She had his attention. “What’s really going on? I don’t want you, or anyone else, to get hurt.”

  He shook his head, but said nothing.

  She blinked and tears rolled down her cheeks. “It must be stolen.” Her voice became soft. “Charlie, I don’t think I should see you again.” Ruth dangled the watch as if it were a viper.

  Sadness enveloped his heart. She was right. He didn’t deserve her after all of the trouble he’d caused with Jack’s family and friends. People were hurt, frightened, hiding, or in danger of being arrested or killed. If anything bad happened to her— “I’m so sorry.”

  He gently removed the watch from her fingers. “It’s not stolen. Jack’s grandfather gave it to me and I hope to return it today.” He placed the shoelace around his neck. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Especially you. I think you’re fantastic, beautiful, and sweet, and I want to see you again. But this watch . . .” Is my only way home.

  A car horn cut through the forest.

  He kissed her softly on the forehead. “We need to leave.”

  She wiped her cheeks and dressed without looking at him.

  Jack waited with Lori inside her car near Ken’s driveway. I am so tired. He’d laid awake part of the night worrying about Mom, Ben, Pop-Pop, Patrick, the CSD, and his scholarship. After a long, crazy, fun, miraculous, and scary night, he needed to go home. He also felt guilty about calling out sick today from work, but Ben needed his help.

  Jack smiled. He never thought he’d see Ben again. Was it wrong to be happy about this Ben, when his true brother lay in his grave? A memory of his little brother in the oak coffin passed through his mind. He hadn’t thought about the funeral in a while. Time was supposed to heal wounds. It did, mostly, unless something brought it all back. Still. It felt good to meet this Ben and pretend he had his brother back, if only for a little while.

  Jack grimaced and blared the car horn. Where are they? He hoped the CSD had not tracked Ben here. As much as he loved hanging with his little brother, the longer Ben stayed on Terra, the more his friends and family were in danger.

  Lori touched his shoulder. “Jack. Chill.” She massaged his neck.

  Jack looked left, right, and in the rearview mirror. “I just want to get you and Ruth back home safely. If we take the back roads, we can avoid being seen, but we need to get moving. Ben needs to see his grandfather. Today.”

  “He and Ruth probably needed some time together. Maybe they’re saying goodbye.”

  “Okay,” Jack said. Maybe.

  Ten minutes later, Ben and Ruth jogged out of the woods. Ruth had more than a few pine needles in her hair.

  Again? After I warned him? Jack started the car as Ruth and Ben jumped into the back seat.

  “Hey, guys,” Ben said.

  Jack remained silent as he drove away from the house.

  “Something wrong?” Ben said.

  Jack frowned. “Look, Ben, we have a lot to do today. After we get the
girls home, you and I need to talk.”

  “Okay,” Ben said. “Sorry for the trouble. I really do appreciate your help.”

  Ruth’s face scrunched. “Who’s Ben?”

  Jack stared at Ben in the rearview mirror. “Your being sorry doesn’t magically make everything better.” Lori elbowed him, but he ignored her. “Did you forget about our talk this morning? About being careful?”

  “JACK!” Lori cried.

  “What?” He glanced at Lori.

  “Chill.” Lori glared at him.

  “Okay, okay,” he mumbled.

  Ruth tapped Jack on the shoulder. “Why did you call Charlie, ‘Ben’?”

  Cowshit! “Ah, Hmm?” Jack slowed for a stop sign then turned left toward Carlston. He heard Ben’s heavy sigh, peeked into the rear view mirror, and saw Ruth fold her arms.

  “Is your name really ‘Charlie’, or not?” Ruth’s face sprouted pink blotches.

  Ben sucked in a breath. “Well, ahh—”

  “You lied to me!” she hissed.

  Jack heard the slap and the silence that followed. Ruth’s face crumpled into her hands. Lori’s jaw tightened as her angry eyes drilled into Jack’s. Ben’s shoulders slumped into the seat. My bad.

  They had a long quiet ride back to Carlston.

  Chapter 27

  Patrick awoke Tuesday morning to a red digital glow, 6:00, and blinked away the fog. OK. Patsy’s guest bedroom. Terra. A dog yelped incessantly from across the street until its owner took pity and let it back inside.

  Peeling back the covers, he rolled his knobby legs over the side of the bed and stood. He peeked into the empty hall and tiptoed to the bathroom.

  After what he’d learned about Patsy last night, he wanted little to do with her this morning. When cornered, she lied. He didn’t like her very much right now and hoped she’d shuffle off to work without any drama.

  Returning to his room, Patrick made the bed and found a worn National Cartographic in a wicker basket on the floor. He laye on the bed and read about a massive eruption of the Mount Rainier volcano in 1980. Lava had spewed in a torrential slurry of mud and boulders, called ‘lahars’, and poured down the mountain and into Tacoma. Hundreds died. It was the first eruption of Mount Rainer since a small summit explosion in 1894. This 1980 eruption had never occurred on Earth, and the article made no mention of Mount Saint Helens.

  Patrick had a sudden urge to research Terran history. Had Terra experienced the Hurricane Katrina event? Back home he would google Wikipedia, but here? No. Albert had told him Terra had no earth-like computers, or Internet. How had the Commonwealth become so advanced in solar and implant research without them? Albert had alluded to a sophisticated crystal technology, but hadn’t shared more.

  Patsy made her presence known at 7:30. She clomped around in wooden clogs, banged drawers, shut doors, and used her hair dryer. Patrick thought she meant to wake her sleeping guest and decided to wait her out, unless she specifically knocked on his door. Her clogs clapped down the hall toward his room.

  She knocked, but didn’t open the door. “I’m going to work now. Remember to meet me at 12:30 in front of the bank.” Patrick kept silent. “Don’t be late, or we will have a problem. I have to be back to work at 1:00.” She clomped down the steps, rooted around the kitchen, and told Ginger to be a good girl. The door banged shut on her way out.

  Glad she had gone, he suddenly felt disappointed he didn’t like her. She looked like his Patty, and he wanted to help her if he could, but Patsy seemed to enjoy conflict. Patrick reminded himself he’d only just met her, and she’d been through traumatic times of her own, but one thing remained certain - she loved Jack. I respect her for that, but can I trust her?

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. What if Ben had somehow crossed to this world? Was he with Jack? Patrick, worried about the CSD, sat up. Were they watching the house? He rolled the magazine and slapped it into his open palm. He wasn’t here to compare history, or science, or save Patsy from herself. I need to find the portal watch.

  After a quick shower, he dressed in Albert’s clothes, courtesy of Miss Betsy, and hurried downstairs. Ginger waited at the bottom. She held her leash in her mouth, and wagged her tail like a floor duster.

  “Okay, girl. Good idea.”

  He wanted to scout the neighborhood and the bank. CSD had kidnapped him on Earth and had some reason to set him free on Terra. Were they watching him? The DOD had provided him training related to classified documents and secrecy, but his knowledge of spy craft came only from novelists like Len Deighton and John Le Carre.

  “First, let’s find you some breakfast.” He filled Ginger’s food and water dishes.

  While in the kitchen, he spotted a note on the counter. The uneven scrawl had been written with a pen fast running out of ink. Dad, please stay here this morning and wait for Jack. There’s cereal in the cupboard. Meet me at the bank at 12:30 sharp.

  Patrick left the note on the counter. He didn’t feel comfortable eating the food she’d purchased for Jack. Using a sharpened #2 pencil and notepad he’d found in a nearby drawer, he wrote his own message. Jack, I went downtown for a walk. Hope to see you when I return. Pop-Pop. He placed the pencil in his left shirt pocket and searched the kitchen closet. Inside, he found a small paper bag and slid it into his coat pocket.

  When Ginger finished her breakfast, he took her outside for a walk. The day felt warm and pleasant. Dew lay upon the grass like scattered diamonds. Ginger pulled at her leash, but he kept her steady. She sniffed everything she could reach including trees, grass, mailbox posts, and other dog droppings. A lot of droppings. Weren’t Terrans expected to clean up after their dogs?

  As he walked Ginger, his eyes searched the neighborhood. He noticed someone sitting in a plain brown sedan reading a newspaper. The vehicle sat half a block away and faced Patsy’s house. As he passed the car, he saw the reader - a large white man with a black eye. The man, engrossed in his news, never glanced at either Patrick or Ginger.

  While Ginger sniffed a hydrant, Patrick caught the reader’s eyes watching him in the rear view mirror. That’s one. He scanned for other watchers, but saw none.

  Ginger, anxious to move on, had left a present in the grass. Patrick removed the paper bag from his pocket and used his #2 pencil to coax the steaming goo into the bag. He wiped the yellow pencil clean on the dewy grass, and put it back in his left shirt pocket. He rolled the top of the paper bag down, and continued his walk around the block.

  Patrick walked Ginger around the block, and didn’t see any watchers behind Patsy’s house. At the next intersection, he observed the brown sedan following at a distance. He returned to Patsy’s house, left Ginger in the fenced yard, and went inside. After climbing the stairs, he peeked through the gauzy lace curtain in the front bedroom window. The brown sedan had returned to its original spot.

  He hurried down the hall to Patsy’s bedroom window, checked the back yard, but saw no one there. He sat on Patsy’s bed to think. They were watching him, but they didn’t try to stop him. They were waiting for something, or someone. Did CSD know about the deposit box? Probably not, or else they’d have searched it already. What game was Patsy playing? Remember to meet me at the bank- 12:30 sharp.

  Patrick rifled through Patsy’s dresser drawers. He didn’t think he’d find the key to the deposit box, but he had to look. He found undergarments, socks, an upside down picture frame, but no key. The frame held a family photo of himself, no, Albert, Miss Betsy, Patsy, Jack, Ben, and . . . Johnnie.

  Focusing upon Miss Betsy, he ran his fingertips over her face. He removed the photograph from the frame and slipped it inside his coat pocket. His reflection in the dresser mirror seemed pathetic. He shrugged and buried the empty frame back under the socks. Patsy might never notice it missing.

  After perusing the other dresser, he found nothing remarkable. He moved to the nightstand and opened the only drawer. Inside he found a magazine, half a pack of cigarettes, a metal lighter, and a notepad. The top she
et read, Jack’s birthday. He flipped to the sheet below. It read Baum / CSD- tele: P567-8945-770. His eyes widened. Chrissakes. She’s playin’ both sides.

  Patrick studied the bed. When his daughter was young, he’d found her diary between the mattress and the box springs. Without telling her, he’d kept track of her secrets to protect her. A small sin. At one point he’d discouraged a suitor who had been far too old for her. She’d never known.

  Had Patsy kept a diary? He lifted the mattress and found a thirty-two caliber revolver. The weapon felt light, but comfortable in his hands. Patrick had trained with handguns in the Marine Corps, and kept a loaded thirty-eight in his bedroom closet.

  Patrick checked the weapon. Fully loaded. He reached under his jacket, and tucked the revolver in the small of his back. Turning sideways, he adjusted his jacket in the mirror. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he’d do whatever was necessary to stay alive and return home.

  He walked downstairs and crossed through the kitchen to the back door. Peeking through the curtain, he saw Ginger asleep under the hammock. It looked safe, but instead of leaving, he locked the back door. If he escaped undetected, then the watcher might still be out front whenever Jack, or even Ben, arrived. He didn’t want the CSD to cause them grief.

  He marched to the front entrance, stepped outside, and locked the door behind him. When he reached the street, he stuffed a brown paper bag inside the mailbox. His smirk died, when from the corner of his eye, he noticed a curly-haired man standing thirty yards away. Shit. This wasn’t the agent with the black eye, but Curly, one of his original captors. Controlling an urge to fight, Patrick turned his back as if he hadn’t seen the man, and drew the watchers away from the house.

  Chapter 28

  Terra’s morning sun flashed across Jack’s eyes as he drove the solar VW toward Lori’s Carlston home. Ben squirmed in the back seat as Ruth’s puffy red eyes glared at him.

  “Liar,” Ruth murmured. She pressed her back against the far door. “I thought you were nice, but you just played me for a one night stand.”