The Traveler's Secret: Book One (The Traveler Series 1)

by Jan Eira

About fifteen minutes into the trek back to the parking lot, Luke’s grandpa suddenly stopped and put his backpack down at his feet. He took the cigarette he was smoking and threw it on the ground. Luke noticed his actions and stared at him.

  “What’s wrong, Grandpa? Are you sick?”

  “I just need a moment to rest.” His grandpa’s breathing was a lot faster than it had been a few seconds earlier. He began to sweat, and his forehead was soon drenched with new beads of perspiration. His face became more reddened than Luke had ever seen.

  “Are you OK, Grandpa?”

  “Will you fetch my cell phone from my backpack?” His grandpa was now rubbing his breastbone and sitting back against a large oak tree. Luke nodded, walked briskly to the backpack, and began to look frantically in it.

  “I got it,” said Luke, looking worriedly at the old man.

  “See if you have a signal here,” he said.

  “No signal, Grandpa.” Luke’s voice was shaky. “Are you feeling sick?”

  “A little bit.”

  “You don’t look too good.”

  His grandpa tried to speak but couldn’t. Instead, he began to vomit. “Will you get me a water bottle and a rag from the picnic bag?”

  Luke looked through the sack and found a cloth and a water bottle, which he fished out and gave to him. “Here.”

  His grandpa wiped his mouth and leaned back against the tree. “Luke, something’s very wrong with me. I think it’s serious. I need you to take the cell phone and run toward where we left the SUV. Do you think you can find it?”

  “I think so, Grandpa.”

  “It’s easy. Just follow the trail.” The old man took a deep breath and rubbed his chest. “I hope there’s cell coverage there. Keep looking at the cell phone for a signal.” He swallowed hard. “As soon as you get a signal, call 911.” He took a swig of cold water. “Go wait by the SUV for the ambulance. Then guide them up here.” He took a deep breath and winced in pain. “It’ll be more difficult to find me on the way back. Take napkins from the picnic bag and tie them around low tree branches to help you find me.”

  “OK, Grandpa. I will. What about you?”

  “I’ll be all right, but hurry.” His grandpa placed his right hand on his own chest again. “I need you to be brave, Luke. Now go. Hurry!”

  CHAPTER 6

  Brent led the others down the walking path.

  “Do you believe that guy?” he asked, looking back.

  “Weirdo,” said Ellie.

  “But how did he know what he knew about us?” asked William. “He knew our names and that it was Brent’s birthday.”

  “He was probably spying on us last night while we were talking around the fire,” said Ellie. “How creepy is that?”

  “Ellie and William, you’re both going to find the love of your life today,” said Brent, smiling.

  “What if he’s right?” asked William.

  “How can he know that you two are going to find the loves of your life?” asked Brent. “How can anybody know that? It’s all bullshit.”

  They continued to hike through the forest. Then, a high-pitched yelp broke the silence of the midmorning.

  “What was that?” asked William. “It sounds like a baby crying.”

  “It came from over there,” said Ellie, pointing to the right. Without waiting, she turned and began walking quickly toward the source of the cry.

  “Ellie, wait,” said Brent. “We don’t know what that was. And you know there are weirdoes around.”

  “Ellie, wait up,” said William, walking fast to catch her.

  “Are the two of you nuts?” asked Brent. The other two had disappeared from sight and deep into a thick portion of the woods. He grabbed a large, fallen tree branch and quickly fashioned it into a club. He ran in the others’ direction. “You guys,” he yelled. “Where are you?”

  After several yards, the teenagers discovered the source of the squeaks. It was a fawn with its hind leg caught in a beaver trap.

  “It’s just a baby,” said Ellie, slowly walking toward the ensnared animal. “It’s OK, little deer.” She took another step forward, but the closer she got to it, the more it wiggled and the louder it cried. Ellie put her backpack down and searched inside for something with which she could entice the small animal. “I’m going to try to get closer. You two stay back. Don’t scare the little thing.” Armed with dry crackers in her extended hand, she began a slow pace toward the deer. “Don’t be scared,” she said. “Look what I have for you, Bambi. These are Saltines. They’re so good. Yum, yum, yum.” Another step produced a lesser reaction from the animal. “Want some of this? They’re yummy. Here you go.” Closer yet. The fawn calmed down and sniffed. “Here you go. Smell this.” Ellie’s hand was now a mere few inches from the fawn. “Good eatin’. All for you, Bambi.” With another half step, Ellie was now able to touch the animal’s nose. “Hungry? Are you hungry?” She petted it. “I bet you’re hungry. Eat this Saltine.” It tasted one and then another. “Get me some water,” Ellie whispered. “Bring the water to me slowly, but stay behind me.”

  William complied. Ellie turned toward him, and he poured water in her cupped hands.

  “You’re a natural, Ellie,” mouthed William. “Nice job.”

  “How bad is its leg?” whispered Brent, carefully approaching the group. “Is it broken?”

  “I don’t know,” said Ellie. “His foot looks swollen. The cuts don’t look that deep.” She allowed the fawn to lap water from her palms and then fed it another cracker. “Easy does it, Bambi. Easy does it.”

  Several minutes passed. The deer became progressively more comfortable with the teenagers’ presence, and soon Ellie was ready to attempt to free it from the trap.

  “You keep feeding it and distracting it, Ellie,” said Brent. “William and I will try to sneak up behind it and free it from this contraption.”

  Ellie hugged the deer’s neck and continued to caress its head while speaking softly and lovingly. Gently, she persuaded the animal to eat more crackers. It was looking away from the two boys.

  “You’re doing great, Bambi.” Ellie’s words were calm and pacifying. “Good baby deer.” She kissed the fawn on the forehead.

  “You grab the leg, I’ll go for the trap,” whispered Brent. William nodded. Brent counted. “One, two, three.” Posthaste, the boys freed the animal. It sprang up on all fours and stumbled for a few feet. It looked back and gazed deeply into Ellie’s eyes as if to say thanks, then it trotted for a few more yards before fleeing into the woods, its white tail up in the air.

  “Good-bye, Bambi,” whispered Ellie, a tear cascading down her cheek. “Good-bye, my love.”

  Wordlessly, Brent placed his right hand on Ellie’s shoulder. The three stood in silence for a long while, looking into the forest.

  “The strange old man earlier today said Ellie would meet the love of her life today and let it go free within the hour.” William looked into Ellie’s sparkly eyes. “I think he was talking about Bambi. How did he know?”

  The teenagers remained quiet and still. They then grabbed their gear and resumed their walk through the woods.

  From a distance, a boy’s cries assailed the hush and peace.

  “Help!” The voice came from behind them. “Please, help my grandfather.”

  CHAPTER 7

  “This way,” said Luke, quickly untying another red napkin from a tree branch. “I think we’re almost there.” The three teenagers ran behind him.

  “Tell us what happened exactly,” said Brent.

  “I was flying airplane models with my grandpa out here,” said Luke, out of breath from the jog. “He started to look bad. And he threw up.”

  “The napkins to help you find the way back to him are a great idea, little man,” said William.

  “It was Grandpa’s idea when he sent me to get help. His cell ph
one doesn’t get any signal at all out here. Do you guys have a cell phone?”

  “No,” said Brent. “We knew we wouldn’t get any reception out here.”

  They continued to jog as fast as they could for several more minutes.

  “Please, God, let him be OK,” thought Luke. The next napkin they came across was yellow with black stripes. Luke untied it and shoved it into his pocket “This way! We’re getting close. The napkins are yellow now.” Enthusiasm accentuated his every word.

  “Luke, you’re a brave little man,” said William.

  The thick foliage dimmed the sunlight. The group walked as rapidly as the tree branches and the poorly lighted path through the woods would allow. Luke collected two more yellow napkins from the branches.

  “There he is,” he said. “He’s sitting up against the big tree up ahead.”

  “I see him,” said Brent.

  Breathless from the sprint, the group reached the old man.

  “Sir, are you all right?” asked Ellie. The senior’s eyelids remained closed, and his head was slumped to the side. He didn’t respond to the question, obviously unaware help had arrived. His breathing was raspy and quick, and his forehead was wet with cold sweat.

  “Let’s lay him down flat,” said Brent. “I remember from first aid class that you’re supposed to lay people flat when they’re unconscious.” They did as he suggested.

  “We need to take him to a hospital,” said William. “Ellie, you stay with him. Make him as comfortable as you can. Use the sleeping bags and pillows from our backpacks. The three of us will go find tree branches big enough to make a stretcher to carry him out of here.”

  The boys ran into the woods. About ten minutes later, they returned with several good-sized tree branches and designed a makeshift stretcher.

  “His pulse is very fast,” said Ellie. “That’s not a good sign.”

  “We have to move faster,” said William. “We don’t have much time.”

  “Let’s do this,” said Brent.

  The teenagers helped the old man onto the jerry-rigged carrier and began the slow procession toward civilization. Luke’s grandpa remained mostly unconscious, although occasionally he mumbled something incomprehensible before returning to a quiet state. The kids took several breaks, most at Luke’s request.

  They reached the parking area within an hour. It was deserted except for their three bicycles on one end and an SUV on the other.

  “I still don’t have a phone signal,” said Luke.

  “Let me see,” said Ellie. She raised the cell in the air and walked around. “Nothing at all.”

  “You got the car keys?” asked Brent, looking at Luke.

  “No, Grandpa does.”

  “Check his pockets,” said William.

  “Wait a minute,” said Ellie. “Who’s going to drive the SUV? None of us have a driver’s license or know how to drive.”

  “Speak for yourself,” said Brent, feeling for the keys inside the man’s pocket.

  “You know how to drive?” asked Ellie.

  “How hard can it be?”

  “Brent and I might have taken his dad’s truck for a ride once or twice,” said William.

  “Here they are,” said Brent, fishing out a set of keys from the man’s front pocket. He unlocked the vehicle with the keyless remote and opened the backseat door. “Let’s put him in here.”

  “Do you know how to get there?” asked Ellie.

  “Since when have you been such a worrywart?” asked Brent. “Memorial Hospital is just a couple of miles away from my neighborhood, which isn’t too far from here. Remember, I’ve lived here all my life. You and William are the out-of-towners.”

  The old man’s body suddenly stiffened and began to shudder. Foam appeared in his mouth.

  “Let’s go,” yelled William. “He’s dying. Let’s get him to the hospital right now. No time to waste arguing.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Brent sensed he was regressing into a state of bewilderment again, and his body shivered. His head felt like a piñata incessantly beaten by a hundred wooden bats.

  He replayed the round vessel’s recording once more in his head: “Computer simulations predict you will be very disoriented at first. You may have forgotten who you are and have no idea about where you are or about time. The good news is that the computer model predicts this confusion to be temporary, and you will be back to normal in a matter of a few hours. Don’t panic, that’s to be expected.”

  Brent shouted to no one. “This can’t be happening again. No, Brent! Stay sharp.” He removed a small gadget from his backpack and read its display. “One hundred and three degrees,” he whispered. He squeezed his head with both arms, his fists closed tight. The increasingly severe headache caused him to collapse to the ground. He looked around from side to side, chills rippling through him and engulfing his body.

  Outside his window, in the streets many floors below, Brent appreciated the agitation of the ongoing and accelerating civil unrest.

  “Things are getting worse,” he said. “People want answers.”

  “And so do we,” said Ellie. She looked around the large research office and removed her white lab coat. She placed it on the chair behind her. “What do you think these particles are?”

  He approached her desk and peered through the electron microscope. “We’ve not seen these in any of the other specimens. We need to review these slides with the nanoscope. Send a sample downstairs and see what William thinks these might be.” He walked back to the window.

  “Brent, I had a low-grade fever last night,” she said. “This morning, my hands became really cold. I began to experience chest pressure and coughed up some blood.”

  “Oh my God.” He turned to face her. “I can’t stand any more bad news, Ellie. How do you feel now?”

  “I’m a bit better. That’s why I hesitated to let you in on it initially. But I thought you should know.”

  “Of course I should know. We have to tell the others, too.”

  Suddenly, she fell to the floor, shivering. Then, she began to cough deeply and hard. She looked at her hands. Streaks of blood were in her sputum.

  “I feel cold all over,” she said, trembling. “My head is killing me.” She coughed again and spit more blood.

  “Let me take you to the hospital right now,” Brent said.

  “Help me, Brent!” she yelled. The agony of her words accentuated her body language. “Please, help me!”

  He rushed to her side. The distance between them seemed to increase despite all his efforts to touch her. He so wanted to soothe her and caress her. He wanted to tell her he loved her and that he couldn’t live without her. But the faster he walked, the farther from him she became. He struggled to overcome whatever invisible resistance kept him from reaching her side. His arm was fully extended, reaching for her, and his hand was open. Hers was, too, but the distance between their fingertips was growing.

  “Don’t leave me,” he cried out. “I can’t live without you!”

  “Help me!” she screamed. “I don’t want to leave you. Save me, Brent.”

  The cries disappeared. Brent was alone again in the middle of the woods, his fingers still reaching for her touch—for her warmth and love.

  “No, don’t leave me,” he whispered in between sobs. He wiped his tears with his arm sleeve. “I can’t live without you.”

  He shook his head as if to bring himself into this reality.

  “The fever broke. Computer, speculate as to why I have a high-grade fever.”

  “Analyzing,” said a woman’s unemotional voice from a small gadget in his palm. A few moments later, the computer continued. “It is likely that the transport did not eradicate the vasculopathic human virus as it was hoped. But, in fact, it may have enhanced it. If that is the case, your lifespan will be drastically shortened to th
at previously predicted.”

  CHAPTER 9

  “Thank you, Dr. Rovine,” said the elderly woman. Then, she turned to Valerie. “It was lovely to meet you, sweetie. You’ll make a great doctor, just like your father.” Valerie smiled.

  “I’ll get all the paperwork ready so you can be discharged soon,” said Dr. Rovine. “I’ll schedule you to see me in the office in two weeks and write your new prescriptions, OK?”

  Dr. Rovine and Valerie exited the hospital room.

  “Mrs. Churchill is a nice lady,” said Valerie. “What’s my cashola up to now?”

  “Forty-five dollars. Not bad, huh? Make money while you learn.” Dr. Rovine sat down and began looking through the patient’s chart. “What are you going to do with the money you earn today?”

  “I want to replace the Gucci sweater Gigi destroyed last week. I’ve had my eye on one at the mall.”

  “This is the last patient on this floor,” he said, closing the chart. “We’re almost done with ward rounds. We have one more patient to see on the third floor. You’ll find this case interesting.”

  “Oh yeah? How so?”

  “It’s a fifteen-year-old boy who has been in a coma for several months. He was shot by the police but for a crime he didn’t commit.” Dr. Rovine looked at his rounds list. “Room three fifteen. This way.” He began walking toward the stairwell.

  “Why is he in a coma?”

  “No one knows exactly. He’s stable otherwise. He should be awake, but he just isn’t. Let’s—”

  His pager’s beep interrupted his words. He looked at the display. “We got a stat consult down in the ER. Come with me. It’s just downstairs from here.”

  The two entered the stairway and walked down to the first floor.

  “You paged me?” Dr. Rovine asked the head nurse.

  “Yes. Dr. Rizzo needs you stat in room five,” she said. “Four kids brought the man in. Looks like an acute MI. He’s in incessant VT.”

  He rushed down the short corridor toward the patient’s room, with Valerie right behind him. “Myocardial infarction, or MI. That’s a heart attack,” he explained to her. “His heart is in a very dangerous rhythm called ventricular tachycardia, or VT, which can be life threatening in and by itself. We have to stop it as soon as possible. Stay right outside the room and observe.” Valerie gave a quick nod, her face rigid. Dr. Rovine entered the ER room.