My rage was no match for pure electricity—even though it felt like I had beams of the stuff shooting from my eyes. The pain caught me in the chest, and my knees turned to water. As I sank to the floor, I caught sight of Jetpack Jed’s smiling face, too much like my own.
When I came to, I was on the bed, my hands shackled to the chain that was padlocked to the headboard. Jetpack Jed was standing on the other side of the bucket, the zapper still pointed at me. I moved my arms and was glad to see that the chain afforded me some mobility—enough to reach the bucket, which I assumed was meant to be my toilet.
“Let’s not try anything else stupid, yeah?” my captor said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Tell me how you really got here.”
“I already told you.”
He shook his head. “No. Elsa shows up at the radio station two weeks ago and tells me she knows I’m not from this world. She knows because she’s not either. She tells me there’s an old man named Guillermo Garcia who sent her here and now she wants to go home, but she can’t do it without finding the old man and the secret power source for his inventions. But she won’t tell me how she got here, only that she heard me on the radio and saw right through my story. Then she tells me there’s another version of me in that world she came from, and he’s likely going to come looking for her. That we’ve got to be ready for him when he comes, on account of he wants to kill her and will probably want to kill me, too, when he figures out there’s more than one Jed Strait in this world. Only thing is, she won’t tell me how she or you made it over here. I know she’s trapped here. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be trying to use me to find the old man. But you…I don’t think you’re trapped. And I know you didn’t get dropped into this world from any electrical accident like you said. So…how?”
“Elsa doesn’t know you’re asking, does she?”
He shook his head.
“Isn’t she going to wonder what’s taking you so long to get me squared away?”
He shrugged. “I expect she’s already asleep.”
The way he said it told me something I didn’t want to know.
“What about Annabelle?” I said. “I thought you were still trying to get her back.”
“I am. Elsa knows that. I’ve been here a long time, though. A guy gets lonely, you know?”
“Listen, pal,” I managed to say. “I hate to tell you this, but you’re sleeping with a snake. A whole nest of them.”
The thought of it repulsed me—not just the idea of anyone making love with Elsa, who I really did think of as more reptile than human—but that the person doing it was essentially me.
“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,” he said, which was enough to give me goosebumps. Who was this guy, I wondered. And how could he be in any way an approximation of me? But then he said something else. “You think you’re so pure of heart. I know it. I’ve thought the same thing of myself. You’re not though, Jed. Neither one of us is. Deep down, I’m a bad guy.” Then he pointed at me and said, “And you are, too.”
His words shook me, just a little, and I expect he saw that.
“Now, tell me how you got here, and I’ll let you get a little sleep.”
I nodded, telling myself there was no point in arguing. Sleep wasn’t exactly high on my list, but I sensed that my double easily had it in him to further torture me with Elsa’s gun if I didn’t cooperate. This was not high on my list of ways to spend the rest of the night.
“There’s a machine,” I said. “Guillermo built it. I don’t know how, so don’t ask. He built it and wishes he hadn’t. He was going to destroy it, but then Elsa went through to this world, and he couldn’t leave that on his conscience. So, he sent me through to stop her.”
“And how do you go back?” he asked, eagerness in his eyes.
I shook my head. “Look, pal,” I said. “You’ve landed in paradise here. You don’t want to come to my world. And even if you could, there’s no way Guillermo would be able to figure out how to use the machine to get you back to your version of Annabelle. She’s gone. You might as well get used to the idea.”
“How do you get back?” he repeated.
I sighed. “I don’t. All right? I don’t. I’m on the equivalent of a suicide mission here. I had a hand in sending Elsa through to this world. I told Guillermo I’d come through and hunt her down, stop her from finding this world’s Guillermo and using him to raise hell. Or an army. But the portal’s not going to open again, see? Guillermo shut it down and dismantled the machine as soon as I stepped through.”
Jetpack Jed shook his head. “Why would you do something like that?”
I shrugged. “Because I really did get zapped into that world during a military accident. The world Elsa’s from isn’t mine. Annabelle’s dead in that world, and I’m forever separated from the world where she was still mine. For all I know, another Jed Strait stepped into my shoes in my original world and he’s with her now. I kind of hope he is, for her sake more than anything. The point is, I had nothing in Elsa’s world. No family. No Annabelle. No prospects. If I could track her down in this world and know she couldn’t do any harm, then at least I’d be able to say I’d done something good. I wasn’t counting on finding you here, of course.”
He smiled at this. “I don’t suppose you were. And a better version of yourself than you ever were, I’d guess.”
“We all have our fantasies,” I said.
He nodded, obviously weighing the story I’d told him. After a few seconds, he lowered the gun and said, “All right. For now.”
As he turned away from me, I said, “That question you asked me, about how I got here and how I might have gotten home again…You know Elsa wants to know the same thing. She just didn’t want to ask in front of you. Because she wants you to think the two of you are on the same side, that she’s not interested in leaving you here in this world without her. That’s not the way it is, though. She’ll leave you as soon as she can.”
Standing in the doorway, he didn’t bother turning all the way to look at me, just turned his head to throw a glance over his shoulder. “I know what I’m dealing with where she’s concerned,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Worry?” I replied with a little laugh. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“What then?”
“We could team up against her. Find the old man ourselves. Maybe get more than one Annabelle to come to this world.”
“Sorry, Jed,” he said. “There’s only room for one Jed Strait in this world, and you’re looking at him.”
Then he left the room, hitting the light switch as he went and leaving me in the dark.
Chapter Thirteen
The scene at breakfast the next morning was rather bizarre. Three people sat in chairs. One was manacled to a table leg. Two were exact doubles of each other. Two others were sleeping together. And two wanted each other dead. All three were in the wrong world.
Jetpack Jed threw together enough scrambled eggs and toast for all of us, and we ate in silence. I avoided eye contact with Elsa the whole time but watched as the two of them exchanged glances.
My captors said they wanted to be at the Hall of Records when it opened. Jetpack Jed estimated it would take half an hour, assuming he could stay above the worst of the traffic, so around twenty minutes after eight, they led me down the stairs into the garage. The hovercar’s rear compartment had two seats facing each other, and I was ushered into the back with Elsa and her electronic gun while Jetpack Jed manned the console up front. Elsa sat back-to-back with her new lover while I was on the passenger’s side of the car facing forward.
Out on the street, I caught a clearer glimpse of Penny King’s death site than I’d gotten the night before, and the thought of the woman dying in that garage in at least two worlds was sobering, reminding me that I had business in my own world to attend to, people waiting for me. I hated the thought of Guillermo, Carmelita, and Osvaldo having stood vigil all night around
the portal, disappointment and worry cycling with renewed hope every hour. And there was Sherise to consider. By now, she would have cooled off from the little spat we’d had in Alphonso’s; maybe she would have tried calling. The phone would have rung and rung, filling her with questions and worries. There was a chance Carmelita would have gone into the house to break up the vigil in the garage, and she might have answered the phone, but I hadn’t given her any instructions on what to tell Sherise if she called, so I imagined the conversation would have been short and cryptic, doing nothing to ease Sherise’s worries—if she had any.
The three of us remained silent as the hovercar retraced the route it had taken the night before, south along the Coast Highway and then turning inland at Santa Monica. There was no pier in this world, I noticed as I looked out the window. But before I could let my thoughts wander regarding the possible significance of this difference, I saw something else along the south side of the boulevard we traveled along now.
Where the downtown area in the distance was a thing of beauty with tall glass spires in a rainbow of colors, this section of Santa Monica looked rundown and depressed. There were vacant buildings on several blocks, as well as vacant-looking people standing around on corners and in alcoves—waiting, but they probably didn’t know what for.
And as we rolled past a length of chain link fence, I saw an abandoned hotel on the other side of it. It was three stories tall and took up a long section of the block. The fence had done little to keep vandals out. There were broken windows on all three floors and incomprehensible graffiti on the walls.
I stared at the dilapidated building, recalling not only my vision of Katrina Mulligan inside a ruined structure not unlike this one but also the words of my cellmate from the night before—about how beach towns were the perfect place for an addict like him to find what he needed. Katrina could be on the other side of those battered walls, I thought, even as I told myself not to jump to conclusions. The vision I’d had could have been of any world, and there was bound to be more than one rundown hotel in the city. Still, I couldn’t shake the uncanny feeling I had about the building we’d passed and the secrets its decrepit walls might be hiding.
As Jetpack Jed had surmised, it took almost half an hour to make it back to downtown LA. When the street jammed with traffic, he pulled up on the lever like he had the night before, and the car rose to let us pass over all the drivers who couldn’t pay for the privilege. We arrived at the building shortly after it opened, parking in front near the spot where I’d tried slipping my silver dollar to the cabbie.
Elsa had kept her weapon pointed at my chest the whole time we’d been driving. Every time I’d looked her way, her gaze had been squarely on me, never wavering in her concentration or vigilance. She’d been silent, though, and now she spoke as her partner killed the engine and the hovercar settled smoothly to the pavement.
“We’re going inside. I get out first, then you. Jed walks ahead of you, and I follow behind. You take us to your hiding place. Is it in public view?”
“Sort of.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”
“Men only,” I said.
She nodded. “What floor?”
“I’m keeping that to myself until we’re in there.”
Turning her head only a little, she said, “Change of plans. Come around and get in back with us.”
Jetpack Jed obeyed. Moments later, he had slid into the rear compartment and was sitting across from Elsa. She handed him the weapon and said, “Inside your coat pocket. Point it at him the whole time. I go first. Him second. You last. When we get inside, I drop back to your side and we let him lead the way. If he runs, if he shouts, if he even trips on the stairs, you shoot him. Yes?”
“Yes,” my double said. He seemed to have no reservations about hurting me.
“You people are a lot of fun,” I said. “You should hire yourself out for parties.”
Elsa said nothing. Instead, she slid across her seat and hit the latch that started the passenger door gliding upward. There were a few pedestrians passing on the sidewalk, but none paid attention to the car or the dark-haired woman who climbed out of it.
“We could just leave her here,” I said to Jetpack Jed.
“Go,” was all he answered.
So, I followed Elsa onto the sidewalk, and moments later Jetpack Jed shadowed us. Elsa led the way through the glass doors and into the Hall of Records. When we were all inside, she turned toward me, one eyebrow raised—an unspoken command to take the lead.
I didn’t need to be told again. Turning to Jetpack Jed, I said, “Come along, twin brother,” and then I sauntered off toward the men’s room on the other side of the lobby, not looking back to see if he was following.
Once through the door, I felt my double’s presence close at my back. I also felt the muzzle of Elsa’s zapper against my right kidney.
“Wait a second,” he whispered.
I listened, not in any hurry to get hit with Elsa’s gun at close range.
My captor stepped forward so he was at my right side. I saw him scanning the room, which looked empty to me. Apparently satisfied, he said, “Okay. Go. Where is it?”
This was the hard part. If I told him where to look, he’d go right to it, and that would be the end of things. He’d find a weapon rather than a scrap of paper with a San Diego address on it. Maybe he and Elsa would keep me around, and maybe they’d finish me off.
If I suggested a different spot and he went for it, then I might have a chance at getting to the paper towel dispenser where I hoped my cache remained undisturbed. Then again, I might not have a chance, depending on how quickly Jetpack Jed moved and how closely he monitored me. Even so, this seemed like the best choice.
But if he sent me to that different spot instead of going himself and I came up empty handed, how was I going to get to the gun then?
Instead of making a choice, I said, “Have you given any thought to what I said last night?”
“Some. No shakes, though, Jed.”
“She’ll dump your body in the desert first chance she gets. You’re fooling yourself if you think otherwise.”
“I’m not fooling myself. I know what I’m going into with her and keeping my eyes open. But if you think I’m going to unhook from her and latch onto you just because you say I should, then you’re the fool.”
“You think you can get the drop on her before she turns on you?” I asked.
He sighed in apparent exasperation and said, “Where’s the address? I’m not playing with you anymore.” He punctuated this with a little more pressure from the gun in my back.
I took a few steps and said, “Second stall.”
He gave me an incredulous look. “Where? Is there a loose tile or something?”
“Inside the paper dispenser. It’s just a little scrap with the address scribbled on it.”
“All right. Go get it.”
Wrong answer, Jed, I thought, but I saw no way around it. Now that I’d started this ball down its lane, I was going to have to see how many pins it could hit.
Taking a deep breath, I went to the stall, right across from the paper towel dispenser that was my real target. I pushed the door all the way open so I could step inside. But then, instead of turning my attention to the toilet paper dispenser, I ducked around the door and swung it shut in my double’s face. There was a brief electric shock, as he must have pulled the trigger on the zapper, but the door took the brunt of it. The pain wasn’t so severe as to keep me from being able to get the door latched before Jetpack Jed put his shoulder to it and tried crashing in on me.
“Son of a bitch!” he hissed from the other side of the door.
Then I heard him open the door to the stall next to me. His plan, I assumed, would be to stand on the toilet so he could fire on me from over the top of the stall.
I swung the door open and lunged across the opening for the paper towel dispenser. My hand was on the cover when he zapped me hard from inside the stall. T
he force of the blow slammed me against the wall, pain radiating across my back as my field of vision went completely white. If I hadn’t had a hand on the dispenser mounted to the tiled wall, I would have gone over, but I managed to keep my feet.
“Turn around,” Jetpack Jed said, his voice quavering with rage.
I obliged, half turning to face him but with my hand still on the metal dispenser.
“It’s in there?” he asked, nodding toward my hand.
I nodded. It was all I could do. I was beaten. And, not for the first time, beaten by myself.
He should have shot me again, incapacitating me so he could do as he pleased. If not that, then he should have backed me into the farthest corner of the room, again giving himself plenty of opportunity to keep me at bay while exploring the paper towel dispenser’s interior. Instead—expecting me to reach into the top of the box and pull out a harmless scrap of paper—he kept the weapon aimed at me and said, “Take it out.”
Happy to oblige, I flipped up the top of the dispenser, reached in with a still-trembling hand, and found Guillermo’s gun. Holding myself flat against the wall, I turned the gun inside the metal box and sent a little thought out to Guillermo, wherever he was. It works through metal, right Guillermo?
There was, of course, no answer.
Regardless, I pulled the trigger.
The men’s room filled with the scent of Chavezium and the whooshing sound from the gun as Jetpack Jed went down, corkscrewing to the floor. Elsa’s zapper hit the tiles with a clatter, and I let myself breathe again.
Gritting my teeth, I pulled the gun from the metal box. The coins could stay, as far as I was concerned. They were of no use to me and would be too much trouble to dig out. Instead, I turned my attention to my double.
First, I collected Elsa’s electric gun and shoved it into my left coat pocket while Guillermo’s went into my right. Then, I dragged Jetpack Jed into the middle stall and closed the door. I didn’t want anyone walking in on me as I pulled off his jacket and hung it on the hook mounted to the back of the stall door. Next, I took his wallet and keys out of his pants and shoved the wallet into my back pocket while the keys went into the front.
The Jetpack Boogie: A Dieselpunk Adventure (The Crossover Case Files Book 4) Page 15
