The Portal At The End Of The Storm (Quantum Touch Book 6)

by Michael R. Stern

  Linda

  NO ONE COULD better understand Eric's obvious fear than I. Fritz never understood how much I dreaded something going wrong. And now, no doubt remains. Whatever had happened, Fritz and Ashley were lost somewhere in the past. Judging from the silence at the table, we were all processing Eric's story in our own ways. Jane and the president were staring out the window. Eric reached for his glass but only twisted it in its spot.

  “I guess we have only one real question,” said the president. “Eric, would you be willing to help us find them?” Eric raised his head and tilting toward the question, said he would, but he only had a few days and he wanted to know everything we had already discovered.

  Jane repeated the story of the Thanksgiving search.

  “Where are the books now?” Eric asked.

  Jane told him that Ashley took them, wherever he had gone. But she had made a complete list and took pictures of the paperclipped pages for backup. “I didn't expect to need them.”

  “So no one here has the books?”

  Jane continued her part of the story. She told him that when Ashley's disappearance was certain, she found copies in book stores and online and bought them. “I have them at home. Well, at Ash's house.”

  “Do you know what order they were in?”

  “Yes. And the paperclips are outlined as close as I could make them to where they were that day. Should I go get them?” She asked Eric, but looked at the president.

  He nodded but as she stood up, Eric said, “I can't do this now. My parents are taking me out, a sort of welcome home dinner. Could we do it tomorrow?”

  “We can't use the school until later,” Jane said. “But we can plan what you think you'll need to do.”

  “I want to look over the books before we do anything. I don't know if I can help or how long it will take. Today's Wednesday and I have to go back on Sunday.”

  “Then what's convenient for you?” I asked.

  Eric suggested that he pick up the books first, and we could get together after school. “That way I can work out what I'll need when we go.” Jane told him to follow her home and he would have them to browse when he had the time.

  Chapter 29

  Jane

  I'VE BEEN DRIVING Ash's Mustang since he left. The new car smell has long been gone, but I can smell his presence, feel his warmth, as I sink deep into the leather seat. As I slid into the driveway, his “Home Sweet Home” rang in my memory. Yet, without him to say it, all I saw in front of me was another house. Eric parked at the curb.

  In the past year, so much has happened. We've spent so much time apart, I almost wish I'd never said yes when he proposed. And now, I wait and wonder if we'll ever reach the altar. I'm not mad at him. How could I be? As important as my aunts' planning my wedding is to my mother, so is finding Fritz to Ashley. He wants, and maybe needs, Fritz to be his best man. Ash told me he was determined to find Fritz, or at least try, before the wedding. Twice now it's been postponed. Strange as it may seem, I'm really not worried. I have a feeling. When Ashley makes up his mind, things happen. So now, I'll wait until he comes home. But, I really miss him.

  The tap on the passenger's window, Eric's face watching me, ended another day dream. It's only a few-minute drive from Linda's house, but I never cease to be amazed at what a brain can do in such a short run. We went inside to the stack of books on the kitchen counter.

  “Let me get the file with the page pictures,” I said.

  “Dr. Barclay, before Mr. Gilbert went after Mr. R, did he tell you anything about how these books might tie to where Mr. R might have gone?”

  I said, “We had had two long days of scouring the pages and recording his visit into the maze that Fritz left behind.” I told Eric briefly what Ash had said, and his conclusion—Fritz didn't want to be found.

  Chapter 30

  Linda

  CHRISTMAS HAD BEEN a bust. Other than TJ, the spirit of the season dissolved after Jane's strip act. With all I've seen with the portal, even that fit, although I'd have never guessed that she would do that. At least my father stopped arguing in front of her. I suspect Mom had a short and pointed chat with him.

  Having Christmas here with my family might have been a bad idea. Mom hadn't been back home for a month. Daddy looked awful. He'd lost weight, and I'm sure the house needed work. But mostly, he didn't like being forced to confront his stupid comments. Jane put the final touch on Christmas morning but he'd started the fight, first with Joe and then everyone else.

  Joe reminded him that Fritz had kept him out of prison and that if he'd kept his word, nothing would have happened to me. At home alone with him, I had said that the portal had affected everyone who encountered it. Joe had convinced me that I was wrong about Fritz. It made me sad when he left, but when Mom told me she'd be leaving, I felt abandoned. Instead of saying she'd be back, as she climbed into the car, she snarled, “Get to work.”

  I completed editing the books I'd been sent and told my publisher I'd let them know when to send more. Just after New Year's Day, Lois and I inspected the vacant shop and closed the purchase the next day. To keep TJ close, I borrowed Ashley's duplicate swing and playpen, and told Jane we would be at the store most of the time. I hired a cleaning company to get the place ready for the contractor, and told them I planned to be open when February began. I had designed the sign years ago and the sign maker said he could have it ready. When TJ and I couldn't be on site, I followed my plan from home and ordered every item I needed. By the middle of the month, I began to set up the workshop. All my tools were where I had imagined they would be. Since high school. When the dream began to take shape.

  Chapter 31

  Ashley

  “THAT WAS WEIRD. And you scared the hell out of him,” I said. “And you followed my lead perfectly. The business card and 'call me in the morning.' I hope that was your cell. You're not going anywhere today.”

  Overnight snow had only begun when we reached the car, but with the wind, drifts covered major roads with more than a foot, constantly shifting, and falling more heavily now. But the coffee was hot, and we had nowhere we could go. The plows hadn't even attempted the side streets.

  Turns out that the light we saw was a signal and we couldn't have been luckier to be where we were. Startled is too limiting a word to describe the light that lit us from behind. A man with a helmet-mounted spotlight and an automatic rifle told us not to move. We didn't.

  When he walked around us, I didn't believe my eyes. Not a farmer chasing us off, but a soldier, fully armed, pointing his rifle at us.

  “Tony, you're just the man I'm looking for,” I said. He lowered his gun and pointed the flashlight.

  “Do I know you?”

  “You're Tony Almeida. Engineer. You're interested in time travel. I've come looking for you.” I wished I could see his face, but the light in our eyes stayed put.

  “I know who I am. Who are you and how do you know about me?”

  “My name is Ashley Gilbert. I'm a time traveler and I need your help. This is Natalie Johnston, a writer for the local paper.”

  I had struck a chord. It took a minute while he processed what I'd said. “I don't know you, and almost no one knows about my time-travel interests. But you can't be here. My partner will be here in a minute.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder.

  “Here's my card,” Natalie said. He reached out to Nat and put the card in his pocket, turning to look behind him. “You'll see when you read it that I'm who it says. Call me in the morning.”

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  “Where's the airport?” I asked.

  “How do you know about that? They haven't built it yet.”

  I grinned at him. “It's built already in my world. You are part of a team of time travelers who work with the president. You guys keep the world from going to war, save flood victims. That kind of thing.”

  “I exist in another world?”

  “You're a hero in my world. That's why we came looking. I need
your help.”

  “Look. You can't be here. I'll tell my partner you were out for a walk. But you have to wait until he's here.”

  “How did you know we were here?” Nat asked.

  “You've crossed half a dozen signals. We spotted you at the entrance when you drove in. You passed infrared cameras all along the road.”

  In spite of the wind, the crunch of footsteps on the dead leaves was impossible to miss. Tony stepped to his partner, and we listened to their hushed voices.

  “We'll take you back to your car. Don't come back. This place is hazardous,” Tony's partner said. “We have your pictures. You only get one warning. If you come back, you'll be on a milk carton.”

  Although the comment sounded rehearsed, I had no doubt that he would be carrying out an order. I didn't ask if he'd ever had to make good on his threat.

  “When do you think he'll call?” Natalie asked. All the way home, she asked one question after another. I shouldn't have been surprised. She asked questions for a living. When I got tired of saying that I didn't know, that fact registered. Thinking back to my previous relationship with her, my impatience with her simmered because she constantly asked one thing or another. Finally I understood why. And marveled at the way her brain worked.

  I checked the time. I said he would probably wait until he could call without anyone getting suspicious. “He'll wait to call until it's likely you're at work.”

  “If all the roads are covered, he won't expect me to get to work until late, or maybe not at all. What should we do with him?”

  “I don't know. Invite him here?”

  “Want my opinion?” I told her I did. “Until we find out what he's all about in this world, meet him in a neutral place. The diner. Niko will put us in a quiet spot. Make it off-hours so we're not likely to be spotted or overheard.”

  “I'm concerned we'll be watched and then followed. I don't think it's safe to trust him yet. And we can't tell who he might have with him.”

  “I could ask Brian Shaw how to spot someone.”

  “We could meet him at school and use my classroom.”

  “Maybe Brian could keep an eye out for someone just hanging around. This is getting complicated.”

  “Ya think? And it's just getting started.”

  While we waited for the call, Nat showered and I made breakfast. While the bacon crisped, I glanced at my list. Maybe Tony had studied the real physics and could explain the best way to go after Fritz. When the toaster popped, Nat walked in, barefooted with red polish on her toes, her long brown hair wrapped in a towel, wearing a bathrobe. Mine.

  “You're blushing. That's so cute,” she said.

  “You don't make it easy.” She flashed a vixen grin, so comfortable in making me uncomfortable. I wished I could find out if I would be here permanently. I told her to eat her eggs.

  I showed her the list I'd made up the day before, and she asked if I had a white board and erasable markers. How would I know? I asked. She pushed away from the table, the bathrobe barely covering, and bounced from the kitchen, the terrycloth flowing over her like a waterfall. She said she thought other me had one, and headed down the cellar steps.

  “The board is here,” she called as I joined her. “Where are the markers?”

  “I think I saw them in the desk.” I carried the board, and she picked up an easel. I went upstairs and in the desk were four different colored markers. What she had in mind I still didn't know. When I reached the bottom of the steps, she was on her tiptoes, holding the board and twisting something. I hadn't looked closely before, in either world, and I admired the picture of long legs and the lifted hem of the bathrobe. I cleared my throat, but she twirled and grinned.

  “Go get dressed, Nat. Then you can tell me what you want with this thing.” I had started to say “what you have in mind,” but I didn't need that answer.

  In seconds, she returned, glasses on, a pen in one hand and a notebook in the other, dressed in only her smalls. When she saw my grimace, she said, “I never wear clothes at home, so get used to it. Besides, it'll shut you up while I think.” She began to draw boxes on the board, the options of what to do if I found Fritz. Although I read as she wrote, at eye-level, interfering with my direct view, a pair of light blue panties moved continually as she wrote, exercising a pair of shapely legs beneath a nicely rounded behind. Like she said, I kept quiet.

  As I read her drawings, I grabbed my own notes to compare. She had left out one thing, the one that mattered most to me. How to open the portal home.

  “Sorry. I couldn't call sooner, but other ears have been too close.” Noon had passed a few hours before. “I'll be free but we're snowed in here.” Tony had taken the bait.

  Nat suggested we wait to meet until the roads were open, and asked if he had any days off. Friday all day, he said, starting at five o'clock Thursday afternoon.

  “Friday is New Year's Eve,” she said. “Do you have plans?”

  “You mean like a date? Nah. Some of the guys are going to a place called The Mill, but I haven't said I'll go.”

  “Guys night out. I know the place. Doesn't sound like much fun.” She mouthed 'The Mill' to me. “More storms are coming, so we need to be flexible. Call me back on Thursday when you're free. Do you have a car?”

  “Not mine. I can walk to the main road once the plows clear it. Not the road you came in on.” She wrote directions to his exit route and said she'd pick him up. Her car would be obvious. “Where are we going?”

  “You'll see. Make sure you are not followed” Then, laughing, she said, “Or you'll be on a milk carton.”

  Snow threatened by week's end, but an efficient Riverboro road crew cleared my street by morning. Even the driveway entrance was unblocked.

  “The same guy who works the street sweeper and picks up the leaves drives the plow. Other you gives him twenty bucks and a bottle of good rum every year so he doesn't have to shovel.”

  “I have to remember that.”

  “That'll mean you're still here.”

  “Here or there, it'll be worth it.”

  “I'll see you later.” She reached up and pulled me close. “I hope you're here.” A real kiss, which I didn't back away from, and she ran out the door.

  With a couple of days left until we met Tony, I studied each of my options on her board, asking the 'what ifs' and finding new unanswered questions. Where did I think Tony would fit? If I explained what his twin in my world did, could he duplicate the connection? I needed to ask about his access to planes, but I had never asked how he had determined the altitudes or how many planes produced the necessary turbulence. Thursday morning, I bought a generator and a heavy-duty electrical cord. A long one. In the afternoon, I returned to reading the time-travel science, still searching for ideas on how to get home. I'm sure that what I read must be a fascinating discussion, but to me, completely foreign. One idea constantly popped as I tried to make sense of my quantum reading. Every article, every discussion, started with my old friend, Albert Einstein. Based on what my travels in this dimension had shown, Einstein would remember me, and maybe could help. But I needed a book about him.

  I glanced at the clock, wondering if I had time to hit the bookstore, when the front door flew open. Wind blowing in tossed my notes around the living room. Nat held the storm door, her arms filled with packages and plastic bags.

  “There's more in the car,” she said. I started past her, but she pushed my chest, and said she'd get the rest, that I should open the door for her. I'd been so engrossed in my reading I hadn't noticed that the outside world had taken a stormy change. I opened the door as a gust yanked it. I stepped to the landing and pulled it shut behind us.

  “The radio said gusts could be up to sixty miles an hour, bringing in two to three feet more snow by tomorrow night. I went shopping just in case.”

  “Did Tony call?”

  “We're picking him up in an hour. We're not going to have a lot of time if the weather's changing.”

  I told her about
my reading while we put the groceries away. She listened without comment, even when I said I had met Einstein. Something perturbed her.

  Finally, she lifted only her eyes as she looked up. “Is there something wrong with me?” The insecurity of the question shown in her eyes, her long lashes framing the pretty brown eyes taking aim at me. My instinct to laugh vanished.

  “No. Why?”

  “Because you back off no matter how I approach. I just want to know if you find me unattractive.”

  This conversation required a serious answer, one where we took the time to talk, without a pending appointment. I told her to forget the groceries, and took her hand, leading her to the living room sofa.

  “I don't have enough time to tell you everything now. But I promise we'll take all the time we need later. But let me get started so you can think about this.” I told her she and I had dated in my time, and I had found every excuse to end it. “I'll tell you the whole story later, but Nat, there's nothing wrong with you. I sleep comfortably with you next to me. You're smarter than me, and I really enjoy seeing your mind at work. I can feel my blood racing when you prance around here in your underwear.” She grinned, happiness glowing in her eyes. “I have a story to tell you when we're back. But you have to believe I mean it when I say I'm going home. And for that reason, I don't want a fling. I'll have to live with myself either way. And I don't want to hurt you. Or me.” I helped her up from the couch and our hug tantalized. “And you have a cute ass. Now let's get Tony.”

  We arrived at the end of a long road that ended in a wooded backdrop. He paced at the side of the road, head down, a red scarf encircling his face. We'd taken both cars, so he'd recognize the yellow VW, and wouldn't be crammed into the back seat. I followed her to the diner and parked on her passenger side so he could see me as he got out.

  His likeness matched the Tony I knew. Broad shoulders filled his coat, curly hair cut short but not too close to the scalp, intelligent dark eyes, and large hands, hidden within large gloves. I lagged a few steps behind as we all ran for the door.