Fatal Green

by The Brothers Washburn

  “Perhaps there are an infinite number in overlapping dimensions in perfect alignment with this dimension, which means that with the passing of time anything you can imagine, and many things you can’t, will be coming through this world. For humankind to survive, Earth may need to be disconnected from the world in this particular dimension, if that is even possible.”

  * * *

  “Okay,” Camm stated flatly. “Let’s get someone to come in and fix this thing.” Her over-loud voice echoed across the main hall. Martha stood behind her nodding.

  Granny regarded her with a wry smile. They had righted the grandfather clock and collected all the broken pieces, placing them in neat piles around the clock. Clearly, it was not a normal clock and would take someone with special skills to fix it.

  Granny explained, “It’s only us here in Trona now. We do not have authorization to bring in anyone else to look at it. Either we fix it or it stays broke.”

  “There’s no way we can fix it,” Camm protested. “We don’t have the skill or the expertise.”

  “Then it stays broke.” Granny started to walk away, but Martha stepped forward and grabbed him by his sleeve. “There must be someone who can fix it,” she pleaded.

  Granny nodded his head. “There is.”

  Camm sighed in relief. “Then let’s bring that person here and get it fixed. Who is it?”

  “Agent Kline.”

  Camm felt like she was being gamed, and she didn’t like it. Tapping one foot on the slate floor, she narrowed her eyes, scowling at Granny to let him know she meant business. “I know who Agent Kline is. He went with Cal and the others to the alternate world.” Her scowl deepened. “I’m not kidding around!”

  “Neither am I.” Granny glanced back and forth between Camm and Martha. “Agent Kline was brought in because of his unique expertise in this area. He has studied the clock while it was still working. No one alive understands it like he does. He is the only one with the ability to fix it.”

  “But he’s in the alternate mansion world right now. In order to bring him back to fix the clock, we would need to first fix the clock.” Camm didn’t mean to yell, but she was frustrated. Her voice again echoed across the large hall.

  “That’s right.”

  “He can’t fix this clock from over there?”

  “Correct.”

  “We can’t bring him back here as long as this clock is broken like it is.”

  “Also correct.”

  Camm growled. This was all so infuriating. “So, what does that mean?”

  “It simply means,” Granny shook his head, “the clock stays broken.”

  “Then how do we bring them back?” Camm demanded, her face growing redder by the second. She wanted to sock Granny in the nose. Her hands had balled into fists. Martha gently rested one hand on Camm’s right arm.

  Shrugging his shoulders as he walked away, Granny quietly replied, “You tell me.”

  Camm stood rooted to the floor, angry and helpless. She forced herself to calm down as she glanced around the main hall as if looking for the answer there. She had to think of a way to bring Cal and everyone else back home.

  But what could she do? She only had one year of college. She didn’t have the technical and scientific education to fix the grandfather clock. But there had to be a way. There was always a way.

  Martha stood silently with her arms folded, leaning against the giant frame of the grandfather clock, watching Camm think.

  All at once, the slump left Camm’s shoulders as she straightened and put her hands on her hips. Her countenance brightened.

  Martha noticed the sudden change in Camm. “You’ve thought of something, haven’t you?”

  Camm couldn’t hide her smile. “You know me too well.”

  Now, Camm couldn’t restrain a joyful laugh. “Granny wants us to tell him, does he? I’ll tell him all right. But first, we need to go have a talk with J. R”

  “But J. R is dead. Remember? The green rat got him.”

  Camm shook her head. “Not that J. R Not Agent J. R I mean octogenarian J. R”

  “Who?” Martha scrunched her face in puzzlement.

  “You know, Sarah’s J. R—Al Samuel, Jr. Remember?”

  * * *

  “So how do you know something is wrong with the other clock?” Mr. C had hobbled into the mansion to study the grandfather clock with Agent Allen at his side.

  Agent Kline swept the sweat off his broad forehead with his massive hand. “Somehow the clocks are intertwined with each other and with this empty picture frame we found leaning against the wall next to this clock. This picture frame is made of an incredibly heavy metallic alloy that vibrates in sympathy with the ticking of the clock. I am still working out how the picture frame connects with the clock and what purpose it serves, but when I start this clock, the picture frame no longer vibrates as it did when we arrived.

  “In addition, if everything is working, the two clocks are always connected even when they are not ticking. They communicate with each other at a sub-dimensional level. This clock cannot initiate or control a transitional event without the other clock, but the other clock is no longer communicating. All my efforts to re-establish the connection between clocks has failed.”

  The three of them stood in silence for a few moments letting the significance of their predicament settle in. Agent Allen broke the silence. “What do we do now?”

  Agent Kline shrugged his big, wide shoulders and reached out to rest a hand on the clock.

  With a heavy sigh, Mr. C hobbled away. Over his shoulder he called, “We stay here.”

  Agent Allen quickly caught up with Mr. C. Agent Kline was right behind her.

  She scowled at Mr. C. “We can’t stay here. That’s not an option.”

  Halting, Mr. C fought back the irritation he always felt when he had to respond to an illogical statement. “However much you feel differently, in reality, our only option right now is to stay here. The option we do not have is to go home.”

  Raising his eyebrows, he glanced at Agent Kline. “Can you think of a sure way to get us home without the other clock working in sync with this one?”

  Agent Kline shook his head. “Without both clocks communicating and jointly controlling the anomaly, there is no sure way home. We are stuck here.”

  Mr. C turned again to walk away. “Stuck indeed.”

  XIII

  There was only one of them. Where was the other one?

  Granny hid behind some large boulders and mesquite bushes, scanning the area. He had been monitoring the movements of the two little Indians for a couple days.

  He stopped to correct his thoughts. He did not like the designation Indian. These two small, dark men were not from India. And they couldn’t be called Native American either. They were not from anywhere in the Americas or even from this planet.

  They came from that other world in the alternate dimension. He inclined his head thoughtfully. Should he call them “Other Worldians?”

  That didn’t sound right. It didn’t exactly roll off the tongue.

  Whatever they were called on the other side, they didn’t belong here. Somehow, they had transitioned over. If they could transition between worlds without the clock, Granny figured it was part of his responsibility to capture them and help them transition back. In the process, maybe he could find a way to get his own people back home without the clock.

  As far as Granny knew, Misters S and C knew nothing of these two alien natives. Granny discovered signs of them during his hunt for the rat. He had even caught sight of them a time or two, but for the most part, they were adept at staying concealed.

  After that first sighting, Granny arranged to talk to Bob, the young Trona high schooler who had accidently transitioned to the other world after waking up from a keg party. Bob told him about being chased by two such natives just
before he ran slap-bang into his own car.

  Granny deduced that Bob had transitioned into the other world at the same time the Mojave Green rattlesnake transitioned into this world. After filling its belly with Bob’s friend Dave, the snake had transitioned back into its own world, sending Bob back to his. Evidently, the two natives journeyed to this world with Bob and had been surviving on jackrabbits, coyotes, and whatever fare they could find. They seemed to learn quickly and were doing all right for themselves in this world.

  Granny’s plan was to tranquilize them and return them to their own world, when he figured out how to do such a transition. Oddly enough, he had discovered two tranquilizer pistols in the mansion. Finding one would have been strange enough, but he found two. What he had not found in the mansion was an appropriate tranquilizer. He had purchased that in Ridgecrest.

  For now, he was stalking the two natives, mapping out their hunting grounds and camping routines, so he would be able to find them later. His brows furrowed. The two were always together, except today. Today, he could only find one, the smaller of the two.

  He had tracked the lone native up a small canyon on the edge of Trona, almost directly west from the high school. He had been certain this one would lead him to the other. When he finally came upon their primitive encampment, he hid himself among the boulders. Only one of the pair could be seen. The dark skinned man with long, black braided hair squatted with his back to Granny, seemingly oblivious to any threat or danger. The man worked with something in his hands, but since he faced the other way, Granny could not see what it was.

  In a crouch, Granny carefully backed up to get a better view without alerting his target. As he did, a knife slowly slid under his throat. From his frozen vantage point, it was hard to tell, but the knife looked like an old butter knife scavenged from who-knew-where and sharpened until it had a razor-sharp edge. The knife pressed tightly against his throat, not quite breaking the skin.

  This was a pleasant surprise. The natives had been tracking Granny while he had been tracking them. And they had set a cunning trap for him. Interesting!

  The second native, the larger of the two, had gotten close enough to put a knife to Granny’s throat, only revealing himself on his own terms in a position of control. Impressive!

  Granny could not help being fascinated by everything he learned about these two natives from the other world. They quickly adapted new tools and new technologies to their own purposes and were highly skilled in everything they chose to do. Not for the first time, it occurred to Granny he might be able to learn a thing or two from these pilgrims from another dimension.

  However, the first order of business was for Granny to get back on a level playing field with the two natives without making enemies or causing injuries.

  I know where the other little bugger is now, and he knows where I am. I guess it is time for us all to meet formally.

  Granny allowed a careful smile to spread across his lips.

  * * *

  Mr. S stopped to catch his breath. “So, you think Lenny might be at Indian Joe’s?”

  Cal adjusted his backpack. “It’s a definite possibility. When we worried about water, before we got into the mansion, we talked about going to Indian Joe’s. I even pointed out the mountain where it was and told Lenny how to find it.”

  At Cal’s request, he and Mr. S had left on another field trip. This time to a spring of water that never failed. Back home, it was called Indian Joe’s and was located several miles north of Trona, northwest of Pioneer Point. On their backs, they carried enough food and water for several days. They planned to gather pictures and samples of flora and fauna along the way for use in their comparative studies of the two worlds. The current plan of the NSA was to keep the dimensional portals between worlds functional if the balance of benefits and risks could be justified. Expanding the search for Lenny was a perfect opportunity to gather more research data.

  Growing up, Cal had been to Indian Joe’s many times with friends. It was a popular destination for Trona’s youth. The Justenough boy had disappeared while hiking not far from this spring-fed garden spot. Since there was a Great Falls in both worlds, everyone assumed an Indian Joe’s would be in both worlds too.

  “I think Lenny is out hunting for food,” Cal explained. “If Indian Joe’s has water, it will be an oasis, filled with all kinds of plants and animals. Maybe Lenny is there too.”

  The bright, almost full moon shone through a clear sky, lighting their way. On nights like this, they avoided using their flashlights to prolong battery life. Hiking in the relative cool of the night was less taxing on Mr. S. Daytime temperatures were simply too hot for the older man.

  They had trudged across the desert through the area where Pioneer Point would be located in their own world and were now entering the foothills below Argus Peak. Cal hoped he would recognize the canyon leading up to Indian Joe’s. Cal usually took his bearings from the dirt roads crisscrossing the Trona desert, but there were no dirt roads in this world.

  As the trail leveled off after a steeper climb than usual, Mr. S called a break. Wiping his brow with a large, red handkerchief, he gazed up into the dark cobalt sky as if searching for something. Countless stars twinkled above them, shining through the clear desert atmosphere. In the valley below, the white lakebed glowed in the brilliant moonlight. Mr. S furrowed his brow and pointed to the east, high over the dry lake.

  Following his pointing finger, Cal saw a large shimmering crack flexing across the sky. Though similar to an aura borealis, instead of being a part of the sky, the tear in the fabric of the atmosphere was clearly separate from the space around it.

  The crack was obvious because the high-altitude cirrus clouds glowed with the moonlight, except within the crack where the stars disappeared and reappeared as the tear flexed. With each reappearance of the crack, an alien sky with its own set of stars peeked through.

  A shiver crawled down Cal’s back. He so wanted to get back home. Weird things keep happening in this world—always something new to worry about!

  Glancing over at Mr. S, Cal finally spoke. “Whoa! What is that thing?”

  “That is a transition taking place between this world and another world.”

  “In the sky?” Cal was incredulous.

  Mr. S took a long drink of water. “Yes, in the sky.”

  “How can a transition happen so high up in the sky and so big like that?”

  “I don’t know . . . not yet. Of course, we don’t completely understand how transitions spontaneously take place on the ground either. The science of overlapping dimensions is still in its infancy in our so-called modern world, and yet, over a hundred years ago, Dr. Alberto Samuel, Sr. understood it and used it to link worlds.”

  Mr. S paused for another long drink. “We found Dr. Samuel’s handwritten chronicles hidden in the mansion. He told of receiving information on dimensional anomalies from a very ancient and wealthy institution—really more of a secret society—located in the Near East, either in Turkey or Bulgaria, or maybe Romania. Piece by piece, he gathered detailed architectural plans and funding to build the cross-dimensional mansions in Searles Valley. We tried to make contact with this mysterious organization, but it’s either gone now or very well hidden.”

  Cal glanced nervously over his shoulder as he fished out his own bottle of water.

  “The only personal comment Dr. Samuel included in his chronicles referred to a partner, a trusted friend and colleague, who betrayed him to the local authorities while in the Transylvanian Alps. Alberto was accused of wizardry and practice of the black arts. Only with the help of a few of his secret society contacts did he narrowly escape with his life.

  “Alberto wrote with vindictive satisfaction of the hanging death of his traitorous partner for the same charges leveled against Alberto. When I look at the hanged-man pendulum in the grandfather clock, I wonder if Alberto ever forgave his frie
nd.”

  Cal finished his drink and replaced the cap on the bottle. “I think that is a big no.”

  Mr. S nodded solemnly. “However, the good doctor’s chronicles did not include references to large-scale, atmospheric transitions like what we see here. His notes are very specific to his Trona operations, and do not say much about the underlying science. But I believe the whole transition process was less spontaneous and more stable in Dr. Samuel’s day. In just this last year, the dimensional anomalies have become extremely unstable.”

  Cal was thoughtful, remembering a conversation he had had with Lenny about dimensional boundaries while both of them were trapped in this alternate world. “You know, Lenny and I wondered about a contrail we saw one day in this dimension. The long, white streak of vapor was way high up in the sky as if a jet had just flown by. But there are no jets here, only great big birds. And they don’t leave contrails.”

  Mr. S watched the transition widen in the sky. He took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. “China Lake Naval Base, just over the Argus Range from Trona, has supersonic jets. Perhaps very fast movement, like that of a supersonic fighter jet, could set off a transition. My guess is that the transition would follow in the path of the jet.”

  “Would the jet come over into this world?”

  “I don’t think so.” He chuckled. “If that happened, Swift Creek would hear about it.”

  They watched the crack in the sky until it suddenly snapped closed. Seconds later, a deep peal of thunder rolled across the desert floor. They stared at each other, impressed.

  Cal asked, “If that was happening at the same time in our own world, why don’t more people know about it? The crack across the sky was obvious, and no one could miss the thunder.”

  “We don’t know the transition we just saw was into our world.”

  “What? Where else would it go to then?”

  “I don’t know. But like I said this morning, quite possibly there are an infinite number of other dimensions with other worlds that this world could transition to.”