Rick Carter's First Big Adventure (Pete's Barbecue Book 1)

by Samuel Belcher

  “Yeah, I know. Pete already told me.” Rick affirmed.

  “No, it’s worse than that. Back then we thought we had a different kind of anomaly. We thought we had an event where a single person was split into two separate beings, resulting in our twins here.” Mr. Ball put a hand out into the image of the babies to illustrate his point. “But, we were slow to see the real problem.”

  “Which was?” Rick stared at the baby pictures of his two friends trying to fathom what kind of problem such small seemingly insignificant beings could pose.

  “They weren’t just two different beings split from the same person. They were two people split from the same person in two different universes.” Mr. Ball fired back rapidly. “And it was all because of that first event in 1968.”

  Now Rick stood erect and silent. The terms were starting to make him feel like something very bad was coming his way soon. “Two separate realities?”

  “No, not realities, two separate universes. Two entirely separate reality strings from different universes.” Mr. Ball sounded emphatic. “And the only way that could happen was if two reality strings from two different universes merged into one.”

  “Like the Unified Reality Theory?” The idea was beginning to sink into Rick’s brain.

  “Not entirely as predicted but yes, basically the same concept just on a much bigger scale. This means someone tried to merge the reality streams back in 1968 and when they did they managed instead to punch a hole through the fabric of space itself and merge realities from our universe and another.” Mr. Ball crossed his arms in deep reflection. “But, it didn’t last. The union came apart just like the models predicted.”

  Rick’s eyes enlarged. “This is big stuff.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.” Mr. Ball confirmed. “What we’re left with are two people who both work for the Company and together could unravel the very nature of all existence.”

  “And the nut job responsible for it,” Rick added.

  “Yes, the nut job.” Mr. Ball nodded, his voice somber.

  “So,” Rick thought he understood the basics of the problem, “this means another apocalypse?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Mr. Ball glanced at Rick with concern. “Except, this one would make the other look like a holiday.”

  “I’m still not getting everything, here. Is this what’s caused Guam?” Rick asked.

  “Initially, that’s what we thought. Now, we’re not so sure. More than ever I think our little nut job is not Campbell.” Mr. Ball pointed out.

  “I don’t follow,” Rick said.

  “Guam is not his doing. Call it a hunch, gut feeling. I just knew the man too well, worked with him for too long. You get to know a man’s personality when you’ve worked with him for thousands of years. And this isn’t Campbell’s doing. Tabert thinks so, the circumstantial evidence points to it. But, I disagree. It’s his ideas, his workings, but not him pushing the buttons. Someone has hijacked Campbell’s theories, and they’re trying to play them out. That’s what’s going on in Guam.” Mr. Ball instructed.

  “I don’t understand how. You said this thing needed a power source, a big power source. What’s in Guam?” Rick asked.

  “You remember Pete’s Honey Pot?” Mr. Ball turned sharply. The image changed to a nice shot of the Honey Pot, postcard quality.

  “Yeah?” Rick studied the picture as it turned before his eyes.

  “What powers the Honey Pot?” Mr. Ball asked almost rhetorically.

  Rick stopped stunned by the sudden realization. “Holy crap.” He muttered.

  “Holy crap, indeed.” Mr. Ball promptly agreed.

  The image in front of them disappeared, and the light went out. Seconds later they were back in the cab, Mr. Ball in the front seat, Rick in the back, just like before. Silence drifted between them with the old man staring out of the windshield at nothing and Rick staring out of the passenger’s window at the same thing. Finally, Rick shifted on the fake leather seat and spoke.

  “So, what do you want from me?” He asked.

  Mr. Ball let his thick hand slide over the steering wheel in front of him. “There’s a lot ahead that you’re going to have to deal with, Rick. When we hired you, it was for one express purpose, to put you into play in a game of the ultimate consequences.”

  “I thought you hired me for my driving skills.” Rick pointed out.

  “We did, but for a whole lot more as well. I think you’re going to learn you have more skills than you realize and abilities all of your own.” Mr. Ball told him.

  “It would have been nice to know this up front. Do I get a choice in all this or do I just get used?” Rick asked quietly.

  “You have a choice. Choice is what it’s all about. But, tell me the truth, would you rather go back to your old job after all of this?” Mr. Ball turned slightly.

  Rick chuckled. “Right. You still haven’t told me what you want me to do.”

  “The solution to this problem in Guam is already in the works, Rick. We’re not asking you to solve it for us. What were asking is for you to help us fix some of the problems that are coming as a result of this problem getting fixed. There’s going to be a lot of them, trust me.” Mr. Ball reluctantly told him.

  “So, now I’m a fixer? Just like that?” Rick sat forward.

  Mr. Ball looked down. “Rick what you’re going to be, if you stay with us, goes beyond fixing. If I’m correct, if we’re correct, you might just prove to be the one single key to resolving all of this, which makes you the most important person in the world at the moment.”

  Rick laughed. “Is that all? Campbell, Guam, Mel and Roger and all of it? Anything else you want me to take care of? I don’t even know how to use this ridiculous contraption.” He pointed at the REAL-Pro 9000 on his wrist.

  Mr. Ball smiled broadly. “Rick we have a crisis in Guam but a game changer in the bigger picture. Ultimately we’re going to have to find out who is behind this and we’re going to have find out if there are other players involved.” He reached for the handle to his door and opened it.

  “Wait! What are you talking about now? Who else is involved?” Rick adamantly shot back.

  Mr. Ball swung himself around in the seat as he was preparing to exit but stopped and thought for a moment. “We’re dealing with two different realities from two different universes here, Rick. We don’t know the implications or whose attention might have been alerted to the recent activities. We have no idea who may be involved from the other universe, looking to do the same thing we are. It could complicate things very much. But,” he smiled again, “you shouldn’t be focused on that right now. Your current mission is in Guam.” He reached back and grabbed something that had been lying on the seat beside him and tossed it toward Rick. Rick instinctively caught it. It was another small black electronic device attached to a wrist strap.

  “I already have one of these.” Rick held it up.

  “No, you don’t. That’s an XLT port device, Rick. Only the employees in upper management get one of those. They port anywhere, anytime, without the aid of a port window.” He said as he pushed himself up from the low seat and stood outside in the dark looking around. “You’re going to need it.” He flexed his back and shoulders and pushed the car door shut. “We’ll talk again later, after Guam is done.” And the Manager began to walk away.

  Rick was surprised and troubled at the same time. He yelled after the old man as he walked away into the night. “Wait! I don’t know how to use this thing! How do I get back?!” All he heard was a faint reply.

  “It’s already programmed, just hit the button.”

  Rick looked down at the item in his hand. “But, what about the cab?!”

  The reply was barely audible. “It’s your cab; you figure it out.” And then he was alone.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Anybody Need a Cab?

  Traveling freestyle through the reality streams could be likened to a bad acid trip. In fact, it has been likened to it. If someone isn’t experie
nced at reality travel, the effects on the senses can be overwhelming, disorienting and cause flashbacks and all sorts of other disturbing perception problems. Mel was one of the most experienced agents in the Company’s arsenal and his mental stability, though usually debatable at best, was never even touched by the swirling vortex of the reality stream. He could travel through it with ease and surf it like a pro-with a ten point stand on a fifty- foot monster rolling in on Sunset on the North Shore. His landing might leave a little to be desired, but he could ride the streams like no other. However, the only thing more disorienting then traveling the streams freestyle is having your body and mind suddenly plucked out of the ether and brought to a terribly hard stop in a place you had no intentions of visiting by someone you didn’t even know. This is what happened to Mel. He had traveled from the source with Daniel Boone and followed as he tracked the tear to its origin. The spot and the time were not what he expected. But, it was what he had most dreaded in the back of his mind. He found what he needed to know and while he was contemplating this he was ripped from the reality stream by someone with unknown intentions and unknown motives and surreptitiously plopped down on cold hard concrete like a lab rat.

  Mel’s senses were hardened to the many different aspects of reality travel. A sudden stop applied while surfing could still shake him up a little. He was able to recover quickly, just a quick drop to one knee, some heavy breathing, and coughing and then he was back to himself. He quickly found he was in a strange room. It was a room with walls made of dull colorless concrete about the size of a small living room. But there wasn’t any furniture in this concrete living room, except for the bare wooden table in the middle and gleaming metal chair. He looked around quickly. There were no windows, no doors, only an old speaker, painted with chipped white paint, hanging precariously from the ceiling. The light was dim but not dark. He couldn’t tell where the source was. He did notice he was conspicuously alone. Boone was no longer there.

  “Thank you for joining us today.” The voice boomed overhead from the old speaker along with an annoying electronic squeak and hum.

  Mel looked sharply up at it. “Hey! What are you doing? Did you pull me out of the streams?!”

  “Yes. Sorry about that. It was terribly rude of us. But, I’m afraid we had no choice, you see.” The voice continued. “You have been brought here for a reason.” It said.

  Mel turned his head slightly, a frown on his face. “Mind telling me who you are?”

  “Oh, yes, again terribly sorry. How stupid of me. I am the person who just snatched you from the reality stream.” It replied.

  “Gee, how informative. Thanks.” He said sarcastically.

  “Don’t mention it.” The voice replied. “Shall we get straight to the point?”

  “That would be appreciated,” Mel said. He could tell that the voice was male, or a very masculine female. But, in either case, it didn’t sound like anyone he had run into before. “I have things to do, you know?”

  “Of course, time is pressing for us all. I do so hate wasting it with ridiculous frivolous, shenanigans. I mean, people can be inconsiderate with other’s time. There simply is no more valuable a commodity if you ask me.” The voice rambled on, oblivious to its reasoning.

  Mel tapped his foot. “To the point?” He anxiously prompted his mysterious captor.

  There was a small pause followed by a slight giggle. “I’m simply not myself. I apologize. I’ve been here too long.”

  “So have I.” Mel agreed, still tapping his foot.

  “Yes, well, Melvin Thibadeaux, this is your lucky day.” The voice happily announced.

  “How come I’m not seeing it that way?” Mel shot back.

  “That’s because you don’t realize the answer I have for you.” The voice replied cryptically.

  “Which is?” Mel sounded very irritated.

  “I know how to resolve your problem. The one between you and your inconvenient other self.” The voice added with some glee. “But, I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

  “How do you know about that?” Mel asked in a sudden flare of anger. “Who are you?”

  “I know lots of things. Some things I’m not sure how I know, but I know them nonetheless. It’s a burden that I bear.” The voice said.

  “Oh, well it’s terrible to be you,” Mel responded.

  “Well, not exactly terrible so much. Complicated, confusing, maybe, but not terrible.” The voice added.

  “Can we get on with this?” Mel urged.

  “Certainly. Where was I? I’ve been here a terribly long time. I’m trapped here, you see. But, I get to see the things moving around, things like you and Roger.” The voice continued.

  Mel slumped and took a heavy breath. Why did he deserve all of this?

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to pull the plug on this whole nutter of a situation, my boy. You’ve got to do some quick two-stepping before they use this nasty little confabulation to tear everything apart. You see you and Roger are being used. You have been from the beginning. Allow me to explain…” The voice rambled.

  “Wait a minute! Who are you and why should I listen to anything you have to say?” Mel yelled at the disembodied voice.

  “Well, because I have the solution for you, the solution for how to stop this Guam thing and I just happen to be the person who caused you to be born. So in a way, I’m your father, Mel. Though not really.” The voice admitted.

  Mel looked surprised. “What in the..?” He started.

  “Allow me to explain. Then you’ll know all about it, and you’ll know why I managed to sneak you in here and why I’m going to sneak you back out.” The voice said.

  Mel didn’t move but stared with eyes wide in disbelief at the rusty old speaker hanging from the ceiling.

  “I swear to all that’s holy, Roger if you don’t get down from that gun this instant!” Tormodis stood erect beneath the long 120mm barrel of the tank with fists clinched and red glow growing in his cheeks. He was staring menacingly at Roger, who had perched himself astride the big gun and was happily swinging his legs back and forth. “I’m not kidding you crazy bastard! I swear I will climb there and knock you off that thing! And we will leave your butt behind mister. Do you want that?!”

  Roger stopped swinging his legs and suddenly looked down at Tormodis. “But, I like it up here.”

  “You’re not going to like it much longer; I can tell you that! Now down! We’ve got business!” Tormodis reached up and tugged at one pant leg, nearly causing Roger to slide off the gun. Roger finally got the message and instead slid backward until his feet touched the cold hard steel plate of the tank again. He reluctantly and sullenly dismounted the barrel and went over to the turret hatch where he started to climb in before suddenly looking back at Tormodis.

  “I don’t like you. You don’t let me have any fun.” He sneered at him.

  Tormodis put one fisted hand on his hip and pointed sharply with the other at the turret hatch. “In, mister! No more out of you.”

  Roger stuck his tongue out in defiance and slithered down the hatch into the turret, disappearing from view. Tormodis shook his head and then started to climb on the tank himself. “You all set, honey?!” He shouted out as he neared the open turret hatch.

  “I’m working on it!” Margaret’s voice came back faintly.

  Margaret Rogers had yet another unique ability that she brought to the circus show that was the Rogers’ marriage. By chance or by design she had become the master transporter of their adventures together. So far, after only a few years of accompanying her husband on some rather bazaar romps through some of the most unexpected and demanding back roads of history, she had acquired the expertise to pilot, drive, steer, ride or sail anything mechanical built by man. The long list of machines she had mastered did not, unfortunately, include a 68-ton monster tank of three-inch steel and composite armor that was astride two tracks and required a different type of steering. But, that didn’t mean she couldn’t figure it out
. That was her ability. She could figure out anything that moved and after a few moments staring at the rather simple panel in front of her with the short row of light indicators and the throttle nob that clicked from left to right and the two black handles sticking out on either side, she cranked up the massive 1500 horsepower Honeywell AGT1500 gas turbine engine with a roar and a puff of white exhaust. The engine sounded like a cross between a wild animal and a jet plane winding up to take off.

  Tormodis paused to smile when he heard the loud machine come to life. He had one leg in the hatch, preparing to take up the commander’s position. He nearly tripped when he finally got all the way in which would have resulted in him crashing chin first into the steel rim of the hatch, but he caught himself on the Kevlar helmet that was sitting on the rear of the opening. He grabbed the helmet and plopped it on his head as he stood upright and braced himself in the hatch. The helmet was ridiculously too big for him.

  The tank jerked forward before it settled to a rocking stop again. Then it jerked forward again. Tormodis was thankful that he had braced himself. Finally, the machine roared forward on its tracks, unsteady at first as it slid from side to side slightly but then more steady and determined. The speed increased and it moved down the highway swiftly for its size. Tormodis let the wind hit him in the face as he imagined what Patton would have felt like in the 1st armored in WWII. He watched the dark asphalt fly by, not realizing that an abandoned car was in the way. He looked wide-eyed at the minivan that was stopped sideways in the road. He started to shout to his wife, but the speed of the tank was too fast now and they hit the abandoned car quickly and hard, pitching the tank up and over the vehicle as it was crushed beneath the armored behemoth. The tank took it in stride, barely even paused before it was done chewing up the minivan and was happily on its way again. Tormodis shook the incident off, happy his wife didn’t steer off the highway into the darkness. It was only an abandoned car after all. How much worse could it get?