The Dreamer Chronicles Trilogy Boxed Set Vol I - III: A Sci-Fi Parallel Universe Adventure (The Dreamer Chronicles - Science Fiction For Kids And Adults)

by Robert Scanlon

  “After what we’ve been through? Don’t worry. Leave it to me, I’ll sort it all out.” Nathan winked at her.

  Paolo looked at them both with empathy. “I am sorry I have not learned more of your world, and those incredible metal boxes that I raced against with your plank.” He flashed a grin at Nathan. “Oh! I nearly forgot!” He ran over to Andreas and Tomas and picked up a canvas bag, then ran back and handed it to Nathan.

  “Would you please return this and thank them for the loan?”

  Nathan and Sarina peered inside. It was the security guard uniform. They burst out laughing and Paolo looked at them blankly. “What?”

  ~~~

  Sarina stepped up inside the treehouse with an ache in her heart. It was strange to be leaving and stranger for it to be only the two of them. Leaving Paolo. Paolo!

  Nathan held her gaze. “We’ll see him again, I’m sure.”

  She could only nod, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “We’ll get on with it then?

  She nodded again, and they both started painting a portal for the last time.

  ~~~

  It was dark, really dark. Sarina had no idea where they were. She had felt a spinning sensation; and then there was nothing. “Nathan?” she whispered, “are you there?”

  “Yes.” His voice was muffled. “Where are you?”

  “Hold on,” she said, crawling over towards his voice, but was brought to a sudden halt when she cracked her head on something wooden. “Ouch! Something’s wrong, Nathan!”

  “Yes,” came the muffled voice, “but I think I know what. Give me a moment.”

  She heard a furious kicking and thumping, then a loud cracking noise. The wooden barrier splintered open letting the light in and Nathan’s head poked through and looked around. “Hello. Bit cramped in here isn’t it.”

  Sarina clambered out carefully through the hole and into the daylight. They were inside the main open square of the cubbyhouse, which she noted with surprise and a degree of irony, was actually built as a replica of a fortress. She looked back and saw that she had been trapped inside a closed-off part of the construction that was part of its foundation.

  Nathan answered her unspoken question. “I think something alien to our world must have interfered with our transport across the portal and displaced you on our return.” He looked a little embarrassed. “Er, … I think I know what it was. After we escaped the police and you made this portal I may have, um … dropped something across the boundary when we went through.”

  “What?” Sarina said, growing frustrated with his beating around the bush.

  Nathan held up the severed hand.

  ~~~

  They climbed out of the structure and into the full sunlight, blinking and dishevelled. Standing up and brushing themselves down, Sarina looked up and froze. “Nathan!” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, “I don’t want to alarm you but,” she pointed in front of them, “I think you should see this.”

  Standing in front of them with their arms crossed and holding very grim expressions, were Sergeant Crawford and Chief Inspector Bolton. Worse still, behind them in the car park were two police cars, parked at an odd angle, their lights flashing; Sarina’s mother, who was holding a tissue to her nose and blubbering; two nurses, one of them very burly and strangely familiar; the school Principal; and, the whole playground was taped off with “Crime Scene” stamped all over it. Standing behind the tape were several members of the public. And Georgia, dear Georgia, who waved and took photos using someone’s phone.

  They looked at each other. “Oh dear,” Sarina said.

  ~~~

  They were sat in the back of one of the police cars, with the Sergeant in the driving seat and the Inspector next to him.

  “So,” the Inspector continued, “you are saying that in fact you have been secretly tutoring this girl?”

  “Um, yes,” Nathan said. “I felt sorry for her. Every maths and physics class would get worse and worse. Then when they took her away …” he shrugged, “It came to me, er … in a dream that I could help her. Just like the teachers had been asking all along, except now I could see a way to do it.”

  He fell silent, hoping his explanation would stick. After all, he thought, it wasn’t so far from the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but he had been helping Sarina and it did come to him in a dream.

  “Then,” the Inspector turned around and looked at Nathan and raised his eyebrows, “I’m sure she won’t object to another assessment so we can prove what you say is true?”

  Sarina started to protest, “Ah. That—”

  “—would be fine,” Nathan said, kicking her leg. He continued, having been struck by yet another idea. “Because, let’s face it, if she passes with ease, then you’ve made a terrible mistake. So how about we agree that she takes the test and, once you see I’m right, then you have no reason to, er, charge us, or whatever it was you were thinking of.”

  The Chief Inspector was not so sure. “That may be the case, but we still have the issue of breaking and entering a garden shed, defacing a child’s playground, wilfully smashing a child’s playground, and then there is …” he looked over at the Sergeant for help, “Sergeant, what are the other outstanding charges?”

  The Sergeant pulled out his notebook, licked his finger and began flipping through the pages. “Ah yes. Your Latvian cousin, who we still have not located, and his shoplifting of a security guard outfit and—”

  “Do you mean this?” Nathan interrupted, passing a bag to the front. “It’s, er, a little dirtier now, but I’ll happily pay for it to be laundered. And Paolo sends his regards, he um …” he looked at Sarina in panic, grasping for words.

  She smiled. “He had to return to Latvia, the Secret Service need him back urgently, which is why he used the disguise to slip past the enemy spies looking for him.”

  Brilliant. Nathan nodded agreement. “Exactly. So can we go now?”

  “Not likely, Sonny Jim,” the Inspector said. “I’ve never heard such a crazy idea. I think we need to take you two back for further questioning.”

  A face peered in through the front window, smiling, and leaned on the door, exposing a pair of brawny arms. “Actually, Chief Inspector, that won’t be necessary. I’ll take it from here.”

  “You! What are you doing here?” Sarina sounded shocked. “I don’t understand.”

  Nathan gasped. The Professor. But, why? How? And how did Sarina know him?

  “And you are?” The Inspector sounded put out.

  “Professor Harrison. And that is Agent Blanchard from the FBI.” He pointed over to a man standing next to a black car, with black windows, wearing a black suit, white shirt, black tie and dark sunglasses.

  If that wasn’t a real FBI agent, thought Nathan, then he didn’t know what was. Sarina tapped him on his arm and leaned over. “Is that your Professor?”

  “Yes,” he whispered, “How do you know him?”

  “I don’t really, it’s a long story. But I think he’s one of the good guys. He studies weird science stuff I think. But I had no idea he was with the FBI. Or that he was your Professor.” She pulled a face and sat back.

  The Professor continued. “We are investigating specific phenomena of interest and we believe these two have been able to conduct … certain experiments … that we are unable to replicate in the labs.” He leaned in further. “Unfortunately these experiments are currently classified, so I cannot share them with you. But I did overhear some discussion about the maths and physics assessment, and frankly, I do agree that this is necessary.”

  “So with your consent”—the Professor’s tone and his glance over at Agent Blanchard implying that consent would be forthcoming, no matter what they said—“I will take these two to our research facility. I will also arrange for the assessment for Sarina and supply you with the results. Good. And thank you, gentlemen, for your time.”

  The Professor pulled his head out of the window and motioned the Agent to come over. He n
odded and walked over to the back of the police car, and opened the door for Sarina. She’d never had a car door opened for her by a man in black before and wasn’t sure of the correct response, so she just sat there, with a fixed smile on her face.

  “Miss?” The Agent was indicating she should get out.

  “Oh. Yes. Of course, er … thank you.” Sarina stepped out.

  The Professor opened Nathan’s door and motioned with his thumb. “Come on. Let’s get you two properly debriefed. But first we’ll need to set things straight with your parents.”

  Nathan nodded. For now he thought it best to go along with it, since he had no idea what on earth was going on. He joined Sarina who was standing by the black car and they watched the first police car leave, the Inspector glaring at them out of the window as they drove past.

  “Phew! That was close.” Nathan looked at Sarina, who didn’t look too happy.

  “It’s all very well for YOU,” she said through gritted teeth, “you and your ‘don’t worry, Sarina, I’ll sort it all out’ statements. YOU don’t have to sit a dratted maths and physics test which YOU wouldn’t fail, but I will, and then I will be taken away and slammed into Stratfords again before you can say ‘Pi R Squared’… and … oh bother! What a bright idea of yours that was!” and she turned her back on him and folded her arms.

  He tapped her on the shoulder.

  “What?” She didn’t turn around.

  “Actually I do have an idea,” Nathan said, trying to sound encouraging, “I think together we can fix your problem with maths and physics.”

  “Really?” She still didn’t turn around, but her voice sounded more hopeful.

  “Yes really,” said a kind voice, as the Professor approached. “If Nathan is thinking what I’m thinking, and assuming that your talents, young lady, are as considerable as they appear, then I think it will be a piece of cake, as you kids say.”

  Sarina wasn’t sure she’d ever said ‘piece of cake’, but the Professor’s confidence in Nathan and a whole lot of flattery went a long way. She turned around to face them both. “OK then. But someone has to explain this to my Mum.”

  “No problem,” the Professor said with a twinkle in his eye. “In fact, I do believe it is being taken care of as we speak,” and he gestured to Sarina’s mother, who was engrossed in conversation with Agent Blanchard, occasionally stopping to touch the man on his nice black suit as she extolled her daughter’s virtues.

  And probably saying something like ‘Oh, you simply MUST come over for dinner, we LOVE to entertain,’ thought Sarina, rolling her eyes as she looked back at the Professor. “Thank you. I think.”

  The Professor turned his attention to Nathan. “Now what about your parents? I don’t see them here?”

  Sarina and Nathan looked at each other and laughed.

  “I don’t think there’ll be much explaining needed there,” Nathan said, sighing. “But maybe if you could make them watch a real documentary instead of reality TV that would be great. I might stand half a chance of being understood.”

  The Professor nodded. “We’ll see what we can do. I’m sure you can imagine that Agent Blanchard can be quite … persuasive.” They heard another nervous giggle coming from Sarina’s mother and Nathan had to stifle a smile.

  “Anyway,” Sarina said, “I do believe you have an idea to put into action?” and she levelled her gaze at Nathan, who shifted uncomfortably.

  “Yes. I, er … Professor?” He looked to the Professor for more help, but he was shaking his head, smiling.

  “Oh no, Nathan, you’re on your own for this one. But I know you can do it.” He held the door of the car open for Sarina. “In you hop, both of you. You have work to do—and I have just the place for you where you can work undisturbed.

  “We’re going to head over to our new facility where I’d be happy to take you on a tour of our wonderful student labs, and show you where you’ll be spending the next few days.” He must have caught their quick glance at each other and look of alarm. “Oh don’t worry, it’s very comfortable.” He laughed. “Five-star comfort actually. And I’ve arranged for fresh clothes to be waiting in your rooms and we have a fantastic in-house café and kitchen.” He leaned in towards them and winked. “They make a mean pizza.”

  They got into the car, still a little apprehensive. Sarina watched her mother give Agent Blanchard a peck on the cheek as he excused himself. She tutted under her breath. Mother! Really!

  ~~~

  After a short drive past the outskirts of town, they pulled into an impressive, modern complex, crowded with new buildings that gleamed in the sunshine.

  The Professor looked back from the front seat and smiled. “What we are doing here is all still very hush-hush you understand, so we hide ourselves amongst other high-tech companies. It’s all official of course,” he grinned, “but the idea of having a mind-power lab right in the middle of town might be a little too threatening to the general public."

  The car pulled up at a squat, silvery-panelled, metallic-looking building with dark glass windows, and drove down a ramp into an underground carpark.

  Agent Blanchard opened the doors for them again and they walked over to a double-glass door, which was closed. The FBI man took something from his pocket and swiped it near a small black box on the wall next to one of the doors, whereupon the doors swept back and they entered a pure white and brightly lit corridor.

  Professor Harrison gestured for them to go in, still smiling. “Let’s go. I have a hunch you’ll love this place.”

  Agent Blanchard excused himself with a curt nod to the Professor and left the three of them, who then headed over to what looked like a lift. The Professor pressed a single red button and they heard the lift motors quietly and efficiently whirl into action.

  They ascended one floor and as the doors opened, Sarina and Nathan let out a simultaneous gasp.

  In front of them, across a large open carpeted floor, were all sorts of flat screens suspended above sleek-looking computers arranged in clusters of workstations; multi-coloured holographic images, each projecting an array of changing shapes and designs.

  And gathered around most of the workstations were kids of all ages, in animated discussions, oblivious to the Professor and his two wide-eyed guests.

  “You’re right. I love it already!” Sarina said, turning to look at the Professor with a grin.

  “Me too. It’s awesome,” Nathan said, but he wasn’t looking at the major activity in front of him. He was looking over at the side of the room at a large dispensing machine packed full of snacks. “Are those for us?”

  Sarina smacked his arm. “Nathan!”

  The Professor laughed. “All in good time, Nathan, all in good time. Let me show you to your rooms and explain how this is all going to work.”

  They walked past the kids and the dancing images and one or two of them glanced up and smiled, then returned to their work.

  “We’ve got plenty of students here similar to you,” the Professor said as they walked around the corner and down a corridor flanked by doors on either side, “all gifted with some extra mind power. To give you the short version, we know it’s connected with dreaming, though none of them have been to quite the depths you two have.” He stopped at one door. “This is your room, Sarina,” and he opened the door and gestured for them all to enter.

  “Wow!” Sarina’s eyes couldn’t have grown any bigger. In the corner of the large room was a full art studio; two easels with blank canvases waiting to be used, a large wooden paint and brush rack stacked full of supplies, and more blank canvases lined up against the wall.

  The rest of the room was set up more or less like a hotel bedroom, with a huge plush bed, walk in wardrobe and an ensuite bathroom.

  A chest of drawers next to one of the easels was begging to be opened and Sarina looked at the Professor.

  “Go ahead,” he said, holding his hand out. “It’s your room.”

  She walked in and pulled open each drawer one at a time
. They were packed full with pencils, pastels, pens, chalks and crayons, arranged in perfect rainbows.

  The Professor’s eyes were twinkling. “Like it?”

  Sarina looked at him dumbfounded, lost for words.

  “I’ll take that as a yes then?” He laughed. “Let’s take a look at Nathan’s room shall we?”

  Nathan looked at Sarina on the way out and raised his eyes. “Bit different to Frenchstone isn’t it?”

  “Here you are.” The Professor had opened the door to the room opposite Sarina’s. It was the same size and the bed and bathroom sections were identical, except for the colour scheme.

  But that wasn’t what Nathan was looking at.

  In the corner of this room was no art studio. In its place, on a long benchtop, was an array of mechanical contraptions and precision tools; two computer screens stood side-by-side on a large desk, and next to both of those was a tall shelf unit crammed with reference materials on the lower shelves and filled with stationery of all imaginable kinds above.

  “OK, I’m officially impressed,” Nathan said frowning, looking at Professor Harrison, “but what’s the catch?”

  “No catch. Well, a minor one if you could call it that,” the Professor said, returning to a more serious look. “Of course we want to help you develop your talents, but we also want to study how it works; and how we might be able to teach others to use their own powers. But the short-term catch, if you can call it that, is that you have a mission to fulfil. I made a promise to the Chief Inspector and to your parents that we would make sure that Sarina would overcome her problems with maths and get to grips with some of the scientific concepts. I’m confident that it’s not only possible, but that you,” he grinned at Nathan, “are just the man for the job.”

  He turned to Sarina who was looking a little downcast after the excitement of seeing her room. “Don’t be concerned, Sarina. I’ve spoken directly to your Principal, Mr Forrester, who as you know is an old colleague of mine, and reassured him there will be no need for any more drastic measures, and he won’t stand in the way of the art competition I heard you submitted an entry for. Frankly between you and me, I think Forrester is more concerned about the paperwork and his reputation. What he didn’t know was that I’d already had word sent to me about your considerable talents. You should never have been taken to Stratfords; clearly we didn’t predict Dr Timms taking such forceful action. Or following such archaic practices. I’m deeply sorry and hope you can accept our apologies.”