He motioned for us to follow him. I noticed that the officers who brought us here didn’t follow. Apparently they had done their job. That also told me that the chief—that’s what I assumed the older man to be—felt we were no threat to him.
The rest of the building is a bit of a blur. I tried to take everything in, but it was all a little overwhelming. Questions buzzed in my brain.
“Anyone got a guess about what is happening?” Brenda spoke softly.
“Not a clue,” Andi said. “I could give a dozen guesses and be wrong on every count.”
Brenda looked at Daniel, and her mood darkened. “Batman and Robin. We should have moved on when the lady at the hotel told us.”
“You think she knows something?” I asked.
“That’d be my guess.”
The chief’s office was spacious and dominated by a power desk with photos, file folders, and a half-filled cup.
There was something else in the room. I should say there was someone else in the room: a woman. She had long blond hair that was parted down the middle and hypnotic brown eyes. She looked to be in her twenties and wore a green pantsuit. She was tall and gorgeous.
“Hello, Tank,” she said. In English.
“You know me?”
“Of course I do, silly. How could I forget you?” Her smile was dazzling.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I think I’d remember you if we had met before.” I couldn’t say why at the moment, but I felt like an idiot, like the last person in the room to get the punchline of a joke.
She smiled again. If her smile was any brighter I would need sunglasses. Then she did something weird: she took off her shoes and wiggled her toes.
Still nothing.
I heard her give a playful sigh as she closed her eyes. When she opened them I was staring at the same face but different eyes. Green eyes. Something in my brain came out of hibernation. She closed her lids again, then opened them so we could see what a lovely shade of blue they were.
“Wait.”
Daniel charged forward and wrapped his arms around her.
Andi clapped her hands. “Hello, Helsa!”
“Helsa?” I got it. I didn’t understand it, but I got it.“Littlefoot!”
It was my turn to embrace her, and she embraced me back. When we parted, I asked the obvious. “I don’t get it. When I last saw you, you were just a child.”
“That was a long time ago, Tank.”
That confused me. “It was less than a year ago.”
“It’s been a little longer here.”
Now I was getting a headache.
Helsa’s voice turned dark. “We have a lot to discuss.”
“You got that right,” Brenda said. “You can start by telling us how to get home from here.”
I didn’t like the look on Helsa’s face.
CHAPTER
9
Few Answers, Too Many Questions
After the hugging was done, we sat. I wasn’t sure how to feel. To say I was confused wouldn’t be going far enough. Not all that long ago, I first met Helsa (her name means devoted to God in Hebrew—of course her name just sounds like Hebrew, as far as we could figure). It was our fourth adventure, and our team was just getting its legs. Some days that seems a decade ago. And back then, she was less than ten years old.
I’ll keep this short. I mentioned my Uncle Bart, the county sheriff, in an area that included Dickerson, Oregon. Every year I go up to Oregon to watch the Rose Bowl with him and his family. While there, he got a call to investigate strange footprints in the snow of a farmer’s field. He asked me to go with him, and I did. We found footprints all right. Small ones. Prints of a barefoot child walking through the snow. That image still haunts me.
We found the little girl, and she was as cute as a button. Didn’t talk, but she did carry a scroll with strange lettering. That’s what Andi recognized back in the café.
“I hope everyone has been well.” Helsa was smiling when she said that, but the smile evaporated pretty quick. “Where’s the professor?”
“That’s hard to say,” Andi said.
“He’s dead.” Brenda didn’t mince words. “Police say he committed suicide.”
Some people grieve with endless tears. Brenda shed a few of those when she didn’t think people were watching. Some people grieve with anger. That was more Brenda’s speed.
“There’s a lot of doubt about that.” Andi’s tone wasn’t cold, but it was pretty chilly. “Things don’t add up. He was looking for a way to access alternate dimensions.” She paused and looked at Brenda. “And look where we are: a different universe.”
I’m not used to being the reasonable one, but I needed to give it a go. “The whole thing has been a little hard on us, Helsa.”
“Either way, he’s not with you.” Helsa’s face darkened with sadness, and her eyes changed color to a pale gray. “It’s a loss. I liked him. I felt nothing but love from him.”
“That makes you the lucky one,” Brenda said. The professor had always been toughest on Brenda.
“I only got to spend a short time with him, and I had become a child by then.”
“This stuff gives me a headache.”
To Brenda’s credit, she looked like her head hurt.
Andi’s curiosity was taking over. I can’t say she was as brilliant as the professor, but given the chance, I think she could be. Nothing gets by our Andi.
“When we first met you, you couldn’t or wouldn’t speak. Now you handle English better than Tank. How is that?”
“Hey” was all I could say.
“No offense.” Andi smiled at me and all was right with the world—whatever world this was.
“Come on.” Helsa stood. “I’ll show you.”
We stood, too.
“But first I need to warn you. It might be a little upsetting.”
“Cool, just what we need. Something else to upset us.” I probably don’t need to mention Brenda said that.
Helsa talked as we walked. “I picked up a few things from you, but I’ve been studying the language ever since.”
“They teach English here?” Andi said.
“No. Not at all. But when the Others arrive, I try to learn their language.”
That confused me. “Others?”
“That’s what you are. You’re not from our world, so people here think of you as the Others. That’s not bad. My people love the Others—mostly.”
She filled us in on how she was a quick study and that English was a simple enough language. I was born in the good-ol’ U.S. of A. and I don’t find English, proper English, all that easy.
“Some of our team has visited your universe and brought back books for us to study.”
“Team?” Andi asked.
“Yes.” Helsa slowed to a stop in the wide hallway we had been strolling through. “You know there are other teams, don’t you?”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Brenda pinched the bridge of her nose as if it would clarify everything. “There are other people like us?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Doing the same thing we do?”
“Again, yes.” Helsa looked puzzled, as if this should be common knowledge taught in grade schools. “Not in your universe. You are unique. I’m sure you know that. Only you can do what you do.”
I felt good hearing that, but I had serious doubts that Brenda got the same thrill.
“You know, old man McKinney tried to dial us in on the whole extra-dimensions and multiple-universes thing, but he just confused me.”
“You don’t want to go to any place that has more or fewer dimensions. Nothing would make sense. There are many universes in the greater cosmos. You’re in my universe now; I was in yours for a short time. The people you battle are from a universe different from yours or mine.”
“The Gate,” I said. “We call them The Gate.”
“They have many names—most of them less kind.”
“They don’t deserve kindness,” Brenda said.
>
No one wanted to argue the point.
“No, they don’t.” Helsa lowered her head and seemed to sink deeper in sadness. “They are smarter, have a better understanding of these things, and use more powerful equipment. They mean your world great harm.”
“We gathered that.” Andi had had several close calls with death because of them. I figure that gave her the right to be snippy.
Helsa stopped and turned to us. “How much do you know about . . . the people who are helping you fight The Gate?”
“Next to nothing.” I offered that bit of revelation. I’ve noticed that as a group we don’t much care to reveal our ignorance. Not many people take me seriously, so I don’t mind admitting to not knowing things I should know.
Andi offered more information. “They only contact us through e-mail. They pay for our travels and our bank accounts go up every month—not enough to make us rich, but enough that we don’t have to get jobs to survive. They don’t talk to us; they just send us tickets to fly or directions to drive to some location. They never tell us the whys and wherefores. They also seem to clean up after us.”
“Clean up?” Helsa raised an eyebrow.
“How do I explain this?” Andi furrowed her brow. “We’ve endured some strange things: killer fungus, creatures that swim in the fog and eat pedestrians, flying orbs—it’s a long list. Yet, somehow, most of it is kept out of the media. I don’t know how they do it, but when we ride off into the sunset, they send in the janitors.”
Helsa nodded. “I’m afraid we don’t know any more than you. I hate to admit that. I’m just as confused as you. I’m part of a team here, and what you describe is the same as what we experience.”
“You’re part of a team?” I couldn’t believe what I heard.
“Yes, Tank. It is why I was sent to your universe, to your world. It is why I’m here now. I think it is why you’re here now. We need you.”
She sighed from deep in her soul, then started down the corridor. I had a bazillion questions but didn’t ask them. Helsa had something to show us, and she was intent on doing so right now. We fell in line and followed her as she led us to another wing of the building. I noticed the doors had numbers, and many had lights over the door. It reminded me of a hospital. Then it hit me. It was a hospital. At least a hospital wing.
Helsa stopped at a pair of doors. A sign was mounted to each of the doors, signs I couldn’t read, but if I were a betting man, I would wager they read NO ADMITTANCE. A phone hung next to the doors. Amazing how many things were the same in our two worlds, universes, or whatever. The phone looked like the wall-mounted variety back home but was the color of Red Vines candy and slightly smaller than I would have expected. She said something into the phone that was just as mysterious to me as the words on the sign.
The doors swung open and Helsa walked through. “Brace yourself.”
I hate it when someone says that.
I led the others in. They seemed a little hesitant after Helsa’s warning.
The place had a distinct smell—a mix of antiseptic, urine, and skin lotion. The room reminded me of an ICU unit, except the patients didn’t have private rooms. I guess it was more of a ward than anything else. Nurses dressed in blue uniforms moved from bed to bed. There were, by my estimation, forty or so souls there. I could only guess at the ages of people. Some looked to be in their early sixties. Others looked well beyond the century mark.
For a moment I was certain I had just walked into a sci-fi movie. IV bags hung from metal stands. Some of the patients had fluid flowing into them from more than one IV bag, and the fluids were different colors. It looked as if they were getting a transfusion of rainbow juice.
The patients were quiet. The heart monitors were also silent. Soft classical-sounding music drifted from the ceiling. I scanned the room, then I focused on the patients. Each wore a yellow gown; each had deep wrinkles plowed by years of life.
A thought wormed its way into my brain. Morgues were places where they kept dead people. This seemed like a morgue for the almost dead. A chill spread through me, freezing me from the inside out. A glance at the girls told me the scene had the same effect on them. Andi was pale. Brenda found something on the floor to look at. Daniel was different. He kept his head up and strolled to an elderly lady reclined in a hospital bed. Her hair was a flat silver, her skin the color of parchment.
He smiled. She smiled back. It reminded me of two children meeting for the first time and becoming friends. Daniel took her hand. The sight of it filled me with pride. My breath caught. My eyes burned.
My heart went out to the old woman in the bed. She clung to a child’s doll. She held it up for Daniel to see, then wiggled it so the doll seemed to dance. Just like a child would do. Then the old woman giggled. The giggle was as light as a feather and floated like one through the room. I glanced around the place again and noticed that several of the old folks had a child’s toy on the bed with them. The woman giggled again, and she sounded just like a little girl—
My stomach contracted. My knees shook and gave up their strength. I bent forward and fought an almost irresistible urge to vomit on the clean, highly polished floor.
“Oh dear God.” I said that so softly that I was surprised to learn that Andi and Brenda heard it.
A hand on my shoulder. “Tank, what’s wrong?” I didn’t have to look to know it was Andi’s hand.
I raised a finger, straightened. Took two deep breaths and walked from the room. Andi and Brenda followed; Daniel did not.
“Tank. Talk to me.” Andi was by my side. Brenda stood a few feet in front of me.
I stumbled back a few steps until my back touched the corridor wall, then my legs decided to quit. I slid to the floor.
Brenda tried a more direct approach to get my attention. “Cowboy, so help me, if you don’t start talking I’m gonna hit you so hard your grandparents will scream.”
“Is it the old people?” Andi said.
I tilted my head up. “They’re not old. They’re . . . they’re young! Dear God, they’re kids! Children!”
CHAPTER
10
The Fountain of Elderliness
Helsa brought a cup of black fluid that I assumed was coffee. It wasn’t. I drank it anyway, hoping it would put the steel back in my spine.
“You understand?” Helsa sat beside me. We were in the cafeteria. In the corner. Far from the police officers, nurses, doctors, and other people who worked in this place.
“I don’t,” Andi said.
“Me neither.” Brenda sounded irritated again. “Someone better start talkin’ or I’m gonna lose my kind and gentle reputation.”
“Tell me I’m wrong, Helsa. For the love of God, tell me I’m wrong.”
She sat in the chair next to me and took my hand. “I can’t.”
After a deep breath, Helsa looked at Andi, Brenda, and Daniel. “What do you remember of my visit to your world?”
Andi rose to the bait. “You were a kid. Your eyes changed color there as they do here—”
“Younger,” Daniel said. “You got younger.”
Helsa nodded. “That’s right.”
A few seconds passed and Brenda began to swear. I think she used every profanity she knew. Andi sat like a statue for a few moments, then asked, “So these are kids from our world? How long have they been here?”
“The ones in that room have been on this side—in our universe—for about two weeks. A few longer; a few shorter.”
“How do they end up here?”
“We’re not sure. Probably the same way you did.”
“Can’t you send them back?”
“We’ve tried. . . . We would if we could.”
Andi never shied away from asking tough questions. Apparently the steel in my spine had moved to her. “How—” she stopped, then took another running start at the question. “How old was the person Daniel was talking to?”
Helsa had to reach deep for the answer. She pursed her lips, blinked several time
s. “Eight.”
“Eighty?” Brenda jumped in. “You said ‘eighty,’ right?”
“No. Eight years old. Many have already died of old age. The older they are when they get here, the faster they age.”
I braced myself for another barrage of curses but it never came. Instead, Brenda leaned forward and covered her face.
My turn to ask the difficult question: “How long before we begin to change?”
Helsa gave my hand a squeeze. “It’s already started.”
One more question from me, but I was already sure of what I was going to hear. “Where are the adults who came over?”
Helsa wasn’t the kind to soft-pedal. “Dead.”
When a person hears something that doesn’t make much sense, it’s only natural to call it nonsense and move on. That was my first reaction, but ever since I pushed together with my friends, I’d seen so many things that didn’t make sense that I lost my ability to be surprised. Hearing that we would grow old quickly just like Helsa grew younger when she was in our universe was unwelcome news. I wanted to call it nonsense, but I couldn’t. Truth was, I was already feeling a little older, but I figured that was due to an admittedly tough day.
There wasn’t much conversation after that. Helsa asked us to tell her all the details of what had happened in Newland before we were hijacked out of our own world. She was so different from the child I used to call Littlefoot. Clearly her mind was running at top speed; mine, not so much.
Food arrived. It looked familiar. There were mashed potatoes on my plate, but they weren’t white. They weren’t the color of sweet potatoes, either. To me they looked gray, like they had been left in the field too long. I’m not a picky eater so I gave it a taste. It was glorious. Slightly sweet. Still weird to look at. Also on the plate were string beans, and thank the good Lord, they were the right shade of green. A nice salad of greens was nestled beside the beans. I usually think of salads as rabbit food, but I had been taught to eat what was on my plate. There were other things, none of which looked like meat. So I asked.
The Probing: Leviathan, The Mind Pirates, Hybrids, The Village Page 26
