Jack returned from his shower wearing a long sleeved red shirt embroidered with “Moonlight Pies” across the chest.
Ben’s right eyebrow raised. Did Jack plan to go back to work today?
“Your turn, bro,” Jack said aloud. Rubbing his hair with his towel.
Ben’s eyes grew large as he put his finger to his lips.
“Awww, cowshit. Forget the shower.” Jack said.
Ben and Jack raced to the bedroom window and looked out front. Nothing unusual. They ran to Patsy’s bedroom and peeked into the back yard. The man in a brown suit stood near the cherry tree, but saw them when the curtain moved.
“That’s the CSD agent who met with your mother,” Ben whispered.
Jack hurried over to Patsy’s bed, lifted the mattress, and reached for something. “Fuck!” Whatever he hoped to find there was gone.
Downstairs Ginger barked. Jack turned toward Ben. “We might have to fight our way out. C’mon.”
Ben followed Jack back to his room.
Jack knelt down by the bed, reached underneath, and pulled out an aluminum baseball bat. He held the bat like a club. “This might help.”
Ben felt a little sick. These men used bullets, not baseballs. He moved to the front window and peeked outside. “The brown sedan is back. A man is climbing out.”
Ginger barked louder.
“Okay. Time for plan B.” Jack pointed to the portal watch. “I’ll be back in a minute with Ginger. Be ready.”
Ben pulled the portal watch from beneath his shirt.
Jack clomped downstairs and returned with Ginger in his arms. She squirmed from his grip and jumped onto the bed.
“They’re walking toward the porch.” Jack said, as he locked the bedroom door and jammed the heavy barbell at a 45 degree angle against the door.
Ben sweated. He fired up and the portal watch and checked the frequency. “I think we’re ready.”
The doorbell chimed.
“CSD,” came a loud muffled voice from outside the house. “Open the door.” The sound of breaking glass emanated from the foyer below.
Ben flipped the second switch. The air shimmered as a portal grew from a pinpoint to the size of big screen television.
When the portal stabilized, Ben recognized GranPat’s basement on Earth. Light gleamed from the shiny forehead of a tall man in a blue FBI jacket. The agent stared at him with his mouth open, while a shorter man pointed a smartphone at the portal. A woman stood to his right near a table.
“Dip me in gas and set me on fire,” Jack murmured. “It works.”
A black and white cat jumped onto the table next to the woman.
“Bootsie?” Jack said.
Ginger barked and launched through the portal from Jack’s bed. She landed on the table and raced after the cat.
“No, Ginger!” Jack hollered.
The female agent pulled her weapon. “He’s pointing the watch at us.”
The tall FBI agent drew his handgun and aimed it with both hands at Ben. “Don’t move.”
“No!” Ben thumbed off the second switch. The portal shrank quickly and winked out.
“What are you doing?” Jack said, cuffing Ben on the shoulder. “That was our way out!”
“Did they look friendly to you? They pulled their guns!” Ben manipulated the watch. “I know a safer place.”
“Where?”
A loud double bang rattled the bedroom door. “CSD. Open up. We have the house surrounded.”
Ben met Jack’s wild eyes. “Trust me.” He pressed the silver button several times and tuned the watch’s destination location from GranPat’s basement to their current location, but with an “E” instead of a “T”. The watch hummed as the portal reopened into Jack’s room on Earth. He saw the pristine room Mom had kept for Jack all these years. The MVP trophy stood tall above all the others.
He turned toward Jack. “Go!”
“You first. Then me.” Jack turned toward the bedroom door and held the bat over his right shoulder.
As CSD bashed down the bedroom door, Ben jumped through the portal and landed on the plush blue carpet. He did an about-face.
Instead of following him, Jack faced a large man with a big nose standing in the doorway. As the man stepped over the broken door, he pointed his gun at Ben.
“Stay the fuck out of my room!” Jack said, as he chopped the bat down upon the man’s outstretched arm. The gun flew into a pile of dirty clothes, and the man fell forward onto his knees.
Jack stepped backward toward the portal.
A second CSD agent, the man in the brown suit, stepped into the room and squinted through the portal.
“Jack!” Ben shivered. “Hurry.”
Jack threw the bat at the second CSD agent’s head. The agent ducked under the bat and fell backward onto the hallway floor. Jack turned and jumped through the portal.
Ben immediately shut off the second switch, and tackled Jack to the ground. Bullets flew through the portal as it shrank. They missed Ben, but hit the MVP trophy sending pieces flying across the room. The portal snapped closed.
Agent Lovitsky and Gendrick had just finished their report to SAC Miller, when they heard the beacon emit a low hum. The air shimmered above the yellow flags on the floor.
“Are you seeing this?” Miller said. “Get it on video.”
“Yes, sir.” Lovitsky drew his smartphone from his leather belt holster and recorded the strange glowing light.
Miller watched the shimmer expand from the size of a bullet, to a helmet, to a riot shield. Two teenagers stared back at them, as if through a bedroom window. A clatter sounded on the table behind them. Miller stood transfixed as a dog jumped through the window and landed on top of the table next to him. My God. He drew his weapon and ordered them to stay put.
The boy shouted and the window shrank within seconds to nothing. They were gone. “What the fuck just happened?” Miller said. His forehead sprouted beads of sweat.
“Sir. That kid was Ben Fuller.” Lovitsky flipped through his cellphone until he found the APB picture.
“Where was he?”
“I don’t know, but I think we’ve just learned what this equipment does,” Gendrick said.
“Explain,” Miller said. Deep furrows crossed his forehead.
“This will sound crazy,” Gendrick said, “but I think this transceiver allows instantaneous travel from point A to point B. Teleportation to be exact.”
“Shut it down,” Miller said.
“Shut it down?” Lovitsky squirmed. “With respect, Sir, we’re trying to find Ben. If we shut it down, we’ll lose contact with him.”
Gendrick nodded. “I agree. Think of what we can learn from this tech, and the boys. We should keep the signal open and let them come home. Let’s not be short sighted.”
Lovitsky sucked breath between his teeth.
Miller stabbed his index finger down on the table top. “Short sighted? Think this through. We don’t know who else has access to the signal. What if an enemy opens a window and tosses a bomb into this room? Or into the Oval Office!”
Miller leaned forward on the table. “We are shutting this the fuck down. Now! This is a matter of national security. Get Dr. Caliban on the line. Set up a meeting with him at the command post. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is jumping through a fucking magic door unless we let them. Not on my watch.”
Gendrick nodded. “What about the kid?”
“Where else would he go? Send an agent to the Fuller house in Carlston.”
“Yes, sir.” Lovitsky made a note, walked across the room to the power box, and pulled the red kill switch. The lights blinked out. Patrick’s communication beacon fell asleep for the first time in six months.
Chapter 31
Patrick and Johnnie left the Cuckoo’s Nest in Terra’s Carlston. Patrick scanned the street, the buildings, and the high rise parking lot. He’d seen the two agents drive by in the brown sedan earlier, but a watcher could be anywhere. Maybe the CSD agents had been called aw
ay for some reason. His throat tightened. Should he go back to the house and look for Ben? No. Find the portal watch.
Out of caution, Patrick and Johnnie walked around the block and approached the bank from the opposite direction. They saw no indication anyone followed them.
The outer walls of the Carlston First National Bank spoke of granite, strength, and security. The thick glass and metal portico boasted sturdy locks. Inside, the vaulted ceiling showcased a blue and green stained glass atrium window that sparkled in the sunlight. The teller counter on the right, made of dark mahogany panels inlaid with rosewood designs, could accommodate six tellers, however only three worked today.
A female receptionist in her sixties watched as they entered the bank. She sat at a small desk near the first teller station, and dialed a number on her desk phone.
At the far wall, sat a guard in his late fifties. He wore a drab grey and black uniform and peeked at them as he sipped his morning Joe.
Johnnie waved to the guard. “Hey, Pete.” The guard smiled, returned the wave, and returned to his newspaper.
The room smelled as if the wooden panels had been saturated with a hundred years of bourbon fumes, sweat, and cigar smoke, but was recently masked with an artificial floral scent. When Patrick walked to the receptionist, he discovered she, not the building, may be the source of the eclectic aroma. She noticed his attention, and hung up the phone.
“Good morning, Loretta.” Johnnie’s smile gleamed. “How are you today?”
“Fine, thank you, Johnnie.” Her lips pinched into a brief smile. “How can we help you today?”
“Dr. Dugan needs to access his safe deposit box.”
Patrick nodded and held up the small brass key engraved with the number 4B912. “Could someone take us down to the vault?”
“Well, oddly enough, I just heard from Patsy.” Loretta pulled at the lace cuff on her sleeve. “She made an appointment for 11:30, so it appears you’re a bit early.”
Patrick narrowed his eyes. She’d told me 12:30.
“Well, Albert is pressed for time, surely you can take us down to the vault now.” Johnnie’s smile widened.
Loretta looked at Patrick. “I’ll need to see his identification.”
“Oh, sorry,” Patrick said. “I left me identification at home. I just need to pop down and check me valuables. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“No matter, we can scan your barcode.”
Patrick moved his right hand behind his back. His eyes darted to the guard and back to Loretta. His skin prickled as he thought of the revolver hidden under his jacket.
The guard stood up and shuffled toward them.
As Patrick’s right hand moved under his jacket, he felt a hand on his left shoulder.
“No need.” Patsy said, as she joined them. “I’ll vouch for him.”
Loretta beamed at Patsy. “Thanks again for the soup last Friday. Earl loved it.”
“You’re welcome, Loretta, and thanks for the call.” Patsy’s smile seemed theatrical as she turned her eyes upon him. “Dad, you must have seen my note. We were supposed to meet at 12:30.” She shook her head and clucked. “Oh well. We’re all getting older.”
Patrick kept silent and tried to smile for Loretta, but he grimaced instead.
The guard ambled toward them, obviously listening, but then veered left to refill his cup at the coffee station.
Patsy wrinkled her nose at Johnnie. “You can go now. No need to waste your valuable time with my family matters.”
Johnnie’s face darkened.
Patrick cleared his throat. “Honey, I asked him to come along. I still consider him part of me family.” Without waiting for a response, he inclined his head toward Loretta. “Shall we go to the vault now?”
The guard sipped his coffee and waited to hear her reply.
“Yes, of course,” Loretta said. “Please follow me.”
Patsy, Patrick, and John followed her down the old marble steps into the shadows of the vault entrance. The deposit box, and hopefully his chance to return to Earth, lay within.
Albert woke to the sound of gunfire. His arms were tangled . . . no, strapped to a hospital bed and attached to an IV. He blinked his heavy eyelids. I’ve been drugged. As he shifted in the bed, he felt a twinge of pain below. And hooked to a catheter.
Albert’s eyes widened when he saw another male patient on a gurney beside him. The man’s forehead and shoulder were wrapped with bandages stained reddish brown, but he was otherwise unrestrained and alert.
One sound followed another as shouts, gunfire, explosions, and breaking glass echoed within the building. Armed men raced past the open door and down the hallway. Was he being rescued? By whom? An acrid smell drifted into his room and stung his eyes. Tear gas.
CSD Agent Baum, his white lab coat splattered with blood, stumbled into the room and closed the glass door. Baum grabbed him by his shirt and shook him. “What have you done?”
“Done?” Albert’s tongue lolled pasty thick in his mouth.
“Our equipment can’t open a Goresake portal!” Baum shouted. “We need to escape!”
Albert’s forehead wrinkled as he tried to concentrate. He needed a drink of water and a new brain.
Baum dug his fingers into Albert’s right arm. “The safety of the Commonwealth, and Terra itself, depends on us. If you love your country, then help us!”
Albert frowned. “I love my country.” He pulled at his restraints. “But, look what you’ve done to me.”
“It’s always about you isn’t it?” Baum slapped him hard across the face. “Why can’t we open a goddamn portal?”
Albert’s face stung from the blow, but his mind extrapolated the possibilities. A portal malfunction, or . . . had someone turned off the Earth beacon? “Release me and I’ll help you.”
Albert craned his head to the left and saw an assault team in dark blue dash down the hallway.
Baum followed Albert’s eyes, pulled a pistol, and turned toward the other patient. “Agent Horowitz, you have served the Commonwealth with honor, but regrettably, we can’t afford to be captured on Earth.”
“Sir.” Horrowitz met Buam’s stare, nodded, and then closed his eyes.
Baum shot Horrowitz in the forehead, and blood sprayed his face.
Albert trembled. “You’re a goddamn monster!”
Baum faced him. “This agent died a hero for the Commonwealth. You’ll die today as a grand disappointment and a traitor. Oh, Dugan, we could have been rich and powerful men. What a waste.”
Albert’s eyes watered from the tear gas. “”It’s not too late. Let me go. Please.”
Automatic weapons chattered nearby. A dark shape wearing a gas mask ran into the room. “FBI. Put down your weapon!”
Baum raised his gun toward Albert, but the FBI agent shot first. Baum’s gun fired in reflex and struck Albert high in the shoulder.
Albert, still numb from the sedative, glanced at the bloody bullet hole through his hospital gown. The world went dark.
Chapter 32
Ben and Jack pulled themselves up from the blue rug in Jack’s pristine memorial bedroom. The little bronze man atop Jack’s MVP football trophy had toppled off the shelf and collided with the red crystal desk lamp. Shards of broken glass lay upon the carpet like dark blood.
The portal had vanished. Ben secured the portal watch beneath his shirt. “Welcome to Earth.”
“Thanks.” Jack patted Ben’s shoulder.
“For what?”
“For Plan B, and saving my ass from that bullet.”
Ben grinned. “You saved our asses. Nice job with the bat.”
“Yea. Scary though.” Jack frowned. “I thought we could only travel to and from the beacon in your grandfather’s basement. How did we get here?”
Ben’s eyebrows rose. “I figured out the buttons and dials while you were in the shower.”
“That quick? You must be pretty smart.”
“Well, you do take a long shower, Bro.” Ben smirked.
Jack rolled his eyes, but then grew serious. “When the first portal opened, was that your grandfather’s lab?”
“Yep.” Ben sat down on the bed.
“Who were those people?”
“Federal Bureau of Investigation, or FBI. They’re law enforcement.”
“Good guys or bad guys?”
“Good guys, but when they pointed their guns at us, I bailed. Not sure who I should trust yet, and I’m not letting anyone take the portal watch away from me.”
Jack nodded. “The watch goes to either Pop-Pop or Patrick. Everybody else can back the fuck off.”
“You got that right,” Ben said.
Jack studied the room slowly. “Some of this stuff is from a couple years ago. The books, pictures . . . this trophy.” He picked up the dented MVP trophy.
“This was my brother’s room.” Ben said. “Mom kept all his stuff since . . . the accident.” Ben’s chest tightened. Would she have done the same for me? Patsy hadn’t.
Jack stared at the large photograph of his doppelganger. “So, he’s gone?”
“Yea.” Ben swallowed. “I miss him. Jack was . . .”
Jack squeezed Ben’s shoulder. “I know. I miss my brother too.”
The bedroom door opened. “Who’s in— Good Lord, Jack?” Mom gasped and clutched the doorknob like a cane. She looked pale, her jaw swollen, and her voice slurred as if she’d been drinking. “Jack, is it really you, or am I dreaming?” She wiped her eyes. “I’ve kept your room since you . . . left. I prayed here. Every day.”
Her eyes found Ben’s. “I don’t understand.”
Ben swallowed and turned toward Jack. “That’s—”
“I know.” Jack whispered. He walked across the room and embraced her.
Mom let go of the doorknob and almost fell.
Ben’s stomach tightened. Was it his fault she was sick? Had she been worried about him? Maybe had a drink or two? No. Not Mom. Ben tilted his head. Ah. She’d had her root canal this morning.
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