Temporally Misplaced

by Alan Zendell

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  Forbidden Publications

  www.forbiddenpublications.com

  Copyright ©2006 by Alan Zendell

  First published in 2006, 2006

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  TEMPORALLY MISPLACED

  A Forbidden Publications production, November 2006

  Forbidden Publications

  PO Box 153

  East Prairie, MO 63845

  www.forbiddenpublications.com

  TEMPORALLY MISPLACED

  Copyright © 2006 ALAN ZENDELL

  Cover Art by ML BENTON © 2006

  Edited by ANN KING—No copyright assigned.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, please contact the publisher via regular mail.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  ISBN: Not Assigned

  Temporally Misplaced

  By

  Alan Zendell

  The wolves had howled all night, and Janine wanted to know what had stirred them up. She rode for hours, then led her mule on foot when the trail steepened. Wanting to find them before dark, she ignored the dust that coated her throat and the rucksack digging into her shoulders.

  Months of non-aggressive behavior and respecting their boundaries had won her the pack's wary tolerance, but wolves were unpredictable, especially when something disturbed them. Janine knew she'd only get near them if the leader wanted her to, and the fact that he knew her was no guarantee of safety. She eyed the rifle poking out of her saddlebags as she tied off the mule, deciding her .45 would be enough. Just the noise would probably scare any hostility out of them. She slapped the mule's rump and tramped up the path to advertise her arrival.

  More anxious than she'd felt since discovering the wolf pack, she rounded a bend and froze. Blinded by the lowering sun, she'd almost collided with the noticeably agitated alpha male. She'd never been that close to him before. Bowing her head submissively, she stepped back. The wolf shifted his weight back on his haunches, then turned and trotted up toward his den, looking back every few feet to see where she was.

  He seemed to have been waiting for her, like something out of a Rin Tin Tin movie. She followed slowly, trying to increase the distance between them, but whenever she fell behind, the wolf stopped to wait for her. All that howling, she thought. They've been summoning me. But that was ridiculous. How could she imagine such a thing?

  The wolf led her around a rock spur. Before her on a wide, wind-swept ledge was the rest of the pack. The cubs played inattentively as the adults, deathly quiet, stood watching in protective stances. The alpha circled behind them. Janine wanted to follow but fear made her hesitate. The alpha watched her. When she didn't move he made a high-pitched yipping sound, like a dog trying to get her attention.

  The light was failing, and with it the autumn warmth. The pack looked tense, like it was guarding something. Janine took a deep breath and resumed walking; letting herself be led into a shallow, cave-like alcove.

  Two females lay nestled with something between them, hard to make out in the twilight shadows. Janine approached tentatively and stopped, clenching her teeth to stifle a scream. Between the females were the legs of a small child. She looked back, feeling panicked. The pack hadn't moved.

  The alpha nuzzled one of the females aside. A boy of about five lay curled against the other female's warm body. Janine approached with slow, careful steps and knelt beside him, nearly toppling from the weight on her back. She touched his face. It was soft and warm.

  The boy opened his eyes and she heard, "Mama!" Or had she?

  He must have thought she was his mother, then, realizing she was a stranger, broke off before the word was fully formed. He looked surprised, but unafraid. Wide, intelligent, startlingly blue eyes seemed misplaced in his childish face. His clothing consisted of a one-piece outfit made of a glossy, amber fabric that covered him from elbows to knees.

  The boy studied her the same way she observed the wolves. Apparently deciding something, he silently stood and held out his hand to her as though that were the most natural thing in the world. Then he extended his free hand to the alpha wolf. The animal approached, stopping directly in front of him. Janine caught her breath when the boy stroked its head. The wolf tolerated the contact as long as it could, finally backing off. Janine inched away, holding tightly to the boy's hand. The pack watched, edgily. Whatever had been influencing their behavior seemed to be wearing off.

  Her heart racing, Janine blanked her mind of everything except getting away from there. She walked steadily, not looking back until they reached the tethered mule. She collapsed onto her rucksack with a relieved sigh, wrapping her arms around the child. She needed to hold him to convince herself he was real. When she released him, his eerily knowing eyes locked onto hers. “Are you all right?” she asked, speaking her first words since confronting the alpha.

  The boy sighed, like an impatient teenager saying, “I'm fine,” his drowsy smile conveying the same message.

  "You must be hungry,” she said. He remained silent, but his eyes widened at the suggestion of food. Janine pulled a Hershey bar out of her pack and handed it to him. Looking at it curiously, he turned it over, sniffed it, licked the wrapper, and handed it back to her.

  "You don't know what this is, do you,” Janine said.

  He watched her silently, his eyes measuring, dissecting her. “Show me!” He was frustrated.

  She heard him, but she'd been watching his face. She was sure he hadn't spoken. He hadn't made a sound since she'd found him. She looked at him, forgetting that she'd opened her mouth to answer him and never closed it. Nothing about this made sense, the way the wolves had behaved.... What am I thinking?

  As the boy waited patiently, Janine tore open the wrapper and handed him the chocolate. He smelled it again then shoved it in his mouth, chomped down on it, and began to chew. A delighted smile transformed his face, but his eyes conveyed surprise.

  "Good."

  She'd been watching him chew. He definitely hadn't spoken. A shiver passed through her. Maybe I've been alone out here too long.

  The boy finished the chocolate and licked his lips. At least that was normal. He drank water from her canteen, and she said, “What's your name?"

  She watched what he did, which was nothing at all except look back at her. Frowning, she hoisted him onto the mule and wrapped a blanket around him. “Hold on tight, Jordy.” A second passed before she realized what she'd said. An impish grin dimpled his cheeks. Janine was trembling. “I'm getting you home and into a warm bed. We'll sort this out later."

  Night had long-since fallen, but Janine and the mule both knew the trail. She lit her lantern and walked downhill with sure, firm strides, looking back frequently to make sure Jordy was still there. When they reached level ground, she climbed up behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist an
d taking the reins in her other hand. Jordy leaned against her, his face pillowed against her breast. She felt his breathing change, felt the rhythm of his heartbeat match itself to hers. He was asleep.

  * * * *

  "What do you mean you've lost my child?"

  The customer service rep reeked sympathy and concern. He was so upset, one might have wondered if, despite his age, he was a latent empath.

  "We're doing everything we can, Miz Thymes. This must be awful for you. Here, let me help you."

  The hapless fellow led Miranda to an aircouch, flicking something with his fingers as she sank into it. He watched, relieved, as the couch molded itself to her body and a gentle vibration began to leech away her tension.

  "Just what does ‘everything we can’ consist of, Mr., uh, Bramis?” she asked, snatching his name from his ID patch.

  Comfortable with a subject he could address, Mr. Bramis said, “Eridani T-Port Lines always puts passenger safety first, Miz Thymes. Everyone who steps through that portal wears a tachyon transmitter with a unique signature. We've never lost a passenger.” His canned pitch complete, Mr. Bramis succumbed to Miranda's distress, which triggered an irrational urge to be completely honest. “It's true we misplaced a few in the beginning, but that was long ago. And they were all found and restored. ETL has the best safety record in the business."

  "I know you're doing your best, Mr. Bramis, but...” Tears welled up in Miranda's eyes. “He must be terrified out there by himself. I knew we shouldn't have sent him alone. Your people promised it was safe. Ten billion to one odds, they said."

  "It is safe, Miz Thymes. Statistics prove it's the safest way to travel. Your chances of being killed flying your car here was far greater."

  It wasn't that ETL didn't train its reps well, but most of them spent an entire career without dealing with a situation like this. Not that that made Mr. Bramis’ last remark any less inappropriate. Miranda broke down, crying inconsolably, certain that Jordy was lost, his energy pattern scattered across the stars.

  Miranda was Mr. Bramis’ first distraught mother. He was flustered. “Miz Thymes, please!” He reached out in an inept attempt to comfort her. A moment later, she was in his arms, drenching him with tears. Mr. Bramis had no idea what to do. He stroked her hair and said soothing things. Moved by her anguish and a flickering in his loins, he was determined to help her.

  Pulling away and grasping her shoulders, he said, “We'll find him by tracing his tachyons. He'll be back, good as new before you know it.” Miranda stopped crying, but Mr. Bramis knew she could lose it again in a second. The problem was, it was out of his hands. There were rules for this sort of thing. Like that camel last month. Sent as breeding stock from Arabia, only it never arrived. Mr. Bramis had submitted a search request through channels. The camel was still missing.

  Looking at Miranda's pretty, tear-streaked face, Mr. Bramis intuited a truth his training had overlooked: a customer dealing with the grief of a lost loved one needed more than a computer confirmation that the wheels were turning.

  Miranda's need was Mr. Bramis’ inspiration. “Miz Thymes, there's a procedure for locating your Jordy. You know what I say about that, Miz Thymes? I say, ‘the hell with procedures!'” He felt a rush. He'd heard that taking initiative could be a real high, but he'd never tried it before. Stabbing his communicator button, he keyed in a system-wide Class One Emergency. The request to locate Jordy Thymes jumped to the head of every queue, bypassing everything else in the system. If Mr. Bramis had given any thought to how he would explain his unauthorized action, his new-found fortitude would have dissolved on the spot. Having Miranda in his arms and feeling her despair had clouded his judgment.

  For the first time, Miranda felt optimistic. Jordy would be all right. They always found them, didn't they? But that wouldn't solve her problem. Six hundred years after the founding of the first exosolar colony, the best leading-edge medical research was still done on Earth.

  T-Porting was devilishly expensive, too much for Miranda or Demby to go with Jordy. They could have all gone by slow-ship, losing twenty subjective years in suspension. Demby would have had to sacrifice his precious career, but they'd have all been together when the doctors made Jordy normal. Instead, they'd scraped up some money to send Jordy and ETL, eager for the publicity, had given them a discount.

  Thank Space, Jordy wasn't the only one. There were hundreds like him in the colonies, the result of spontaneous mutations, the doctors said. They theorized that teleportation had altered the genetic make-up of their parents or grandparents, but no one really knew. Whatever the reason, the affected children were true empaths with IQs off the charts.

  Miranda didn't want a superchild who couldn't speak but did a host of other strange things. She couldn't deal with her child being a freak. The doctors at the Hopkins Brain Center had a way to give him normal speech, but it could only be done on Earth.

  * * * *

  The sky was glowing in the east when they reached the farmhouse. Janine hadn't known how long she would be gone, so there were no coals in the stove. She decided to put Jordy to bed, then fetch the firewood. She tucked him in under a warm quilt. Jordy watched with his curiously attentive eyes, as though he was memorizing every detail.

  "Home?"

  Janine didn't even flinch. I must be getting used to him, she thought, wondering if that was a good thing. “I live here, Jordy. You're going to stay with me for a while, okay?” She didn't expect an answer, and she didn't get one, exactly. She heard “soft” as he snuggled into the down pillow.

  He looked sweet lying there, so innocent, this apparently mute child who nonetheless communicated as effectively as she did. Janine had spent months learning to read the wolves, sensitizing herself to them. Had she become hypersensitive, or had Jordy, deprived of speech, somehow learned to compensate? In a way she couldn't describe, Jordy conveyed the impression of softness with his whole face and body.

  Exhausted, Janine dropped into her only comfortable chair, contemplating her life. She'd come here sick of cities and breadlines, and colleagues who thought she should be raising babies instead of crawling around in caves. And housewives who thought it unseemly for her to be doing a man's job with unemployment so bad. Almost two decades since women had won the vote, she'd had to fight every day just to be noticed.

  Still, no one could deny her accomplishments. Until Janine's work tracking wolf packs had won her recognition in Science, most of the literature on how they communicated had been anecdotal. But recognition wasn't acceptance. She'd left academia and never looked back, renting an isolated house nestled against the northeast slope of the Bighorn Mountains.

  Janine hugged herself against the chill. She wanted a fire. Dawn had broken, so she went to the woodpile without her lantern. Bone-tired, she picked up a couple of logs, stumbling when she reached for a third.

  Then she was falling, reaching reflexively for something to grab, feeling sharp edges tear her flesh, tumbling with the slowly collapsing cordwood. Her balance lost, she slackened her muscles. She sensed before actually seeing the snake that had been startled by the cascading logs. It filled her vision as she fell toward it. She saw it rear back, heard its rattle, knew her neck and chest would be exposed when it struck. Only terror-induced adrenaline enabled her to twist aside, avoiding landing on it directly. The snake hovered, tantalizingly, finally uncoiling like a spring toward the side of the house.

  It was then she realized Jordy had followed her outside. He stood a few feet away, a look of fierce concentration on his face, staring at the snake, which slithered away with remarkable speed. Jordy relaxed and looked at Janine, afraid, not of the rattler, but that she might be hurt. She moved carefully, lifting herself off the unstable mass of fallen logs. Jordy took her hand, tugging with more strength than she would have credited him, steadying her as she stood.

  Janine thought she knew what had just happened, but.... Not now. Later, after we've both gotten some sleep.

  * * * *

  Som
eone had brought Miranda a thermal wrap. Someone else was shaking her gently. She blinked and Mr. Bramis’ face resolved itself. She sat up, instantly awake.

  "There's news,” Mr. Bramis said, clearly pleased with himself, excitedly tapping a rolled-up fax sheet against his fist. “My emergency request triggered a security alert,” he said. “First one I've ever seen. There's a temporal distortion wave between here and Earth. We wouldn't have known it was there except for.... “His voice trailed away.

  Miranda stared at him, wide-eyed. She'd heard his words but had no idea what they meant. “A temporal distortion wave?” she asked.

  "A few other shipments have been inconvenienced, but ETL covered them up. Jordy was the first live traveler affected. They've shut down the entire network except for voice and video traffic.” Miranda looked horrified.

  "Hold on,” Mr. Bramis said, quickly. “Jordy's not lost. We're sure he reached Earth safely."

  She was confused. If Jordy was safe, what was the prob...? “Oh,” she said, realizing what a temporal distortion wave was. Mr. Bramis nodded sympathetically.

  "There's no way to sugar-coat this, Miz Thymes. We know where he is. We just have to figure out when. Our best people are on it."

  * * * *

  The first thing Janine noticed was pain. Her knee was purple and the lacerations on her side were caked with dried blood. The second thing she noticed was the clock. She'd slept for seven hours.

  She was startled to see Jordy sitting on the floor beside her, watching her intently. Then, the memory of the night before came crashing back to her. It hurt to move. Jordy winced, then relaxed when her pain ebbed. He feels it too, she realized, and not the way politicians claim to feel the pain of the voters. She moved cautiously after that, for both their sakes.

  She heated bath water and fixed breakfast. Jordy watched, fascinated with every detail. He barely came up to her waist, and he couldn't have weighed forty pounds, yet he seemed like a child three times his age, and a precocious one at that.