by Oumar Dieng
Before Dad could say my name, Simon finished the sentence for him “Sali. I know. We’ve met.”
“That’s right,” said Dad, seemingly flustered by Simon.
“Good to see you, Dr. Freitz,” I said.
“Simon. Call me Simon,” he asked me.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Dad said to Simon.
He walked to a corner of the room with Simon. I saw them wave their arms energetically. I assumed that Dad was upset by the fact that Simon pulled me into all this. After several long minutes, they both came back over and sat at the table. I joined them.
The cabin was sparsely furnished. A small table, two stools, an armchair in front of the fireplace, and a couch. The cabin was a little stuffy and humid, probably from being surrounded by all the trees.
Dad pulled out the soil sample he had shown Grandpa and me earlier and asked, “Did you send me this?”
“Yes,” said Simon.
“Why? I already know about the soil in Costa Rica.”
Simon looked at Dad. “What if I told you that the soil sample is not from Costa Rica?”
Simon jumped up and rushed into the kitchen, where he had a small screen set up and a simple panel with a flashing red light. Something had set off the sensors he had secretly set up across his property. He had them set up as far back as the path where we had parked the truck.
“What is it?” said Dad, who got up and walked to the kitchen.
“I thought you said you were alone,” Simon said angrily, looking at a screen.
“Yeah, it’s just the two of us,” Dad answered.
“Then who are those men around your truck?”
“I have no idea,” responded Dad, who was also looking at the security setup. When I had walked into the cabin, I had not noticed this rudimentary security setup Simon had put together.
Simon frantically pulled a backpack from under the kitchen sink and threw it on. He grabbed the shotgun and headed for the door.
“Wait, what are you doing?” said Dad as he grabbed Simon’s arm.
“What does it look like I am doing? Getting out of here!” Simon pulled his arm back. “I suggest you do the same.”
“Why? Because of those men?” Dad pointed at the screen.
“Yes.”
“You seem to think that they have bad intentions.”
“I am not thinking anything; I know they do.” Noticing that Dad and I were not convinced, he stepped back into the room. “Remember the Costa Rica team?”
Dad nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“Well, two of them died in tragic accidents, one week apart.” Simon made air quotes when saying the word “accidents.” “As for the rest of the team, they are nowhere to be found. I think GT is cleaning house; anyone who worked on CR-17 is in danger.”
Dad looked at Simon for a moment. “No! They wouldn’t. That’s an insane accusation. In fact, I am going to prove it to you and talk to them.”
“Dad, do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“It sure is better than going out there with a gun!” He looked at Simon, shaking his head. “Sali, stay with Simon, OK?”
“OK,” I said.
Dad left the cabin and walked toward the path. As soon as Dad left, I watched carefully from the cabin window. I saw three men dressed in suits step out of a car as they saw Dad. Dad waved at the men and shouted from a distance. “Hi there. Can I help you?”
A gunshot pierced the air. My heart sunk into my stomach, and all my senses came alive.
Dad ducked and ran toward the cabin. One of the men ran after him, shooting. Dad was now within thirty feet of the cabin, the man not far behind.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure rush by me and kick the cabin door open. Coming face-to-face with Dad, he shouted, “Get down!”
Immediately Dad dove to the ground and slid to the feet of Simon, who opened fire. The man who was chasing Dad dropped to the ground. I ran outside. “Dad! Oh my God, are you OK?”
“I think so.” He got up, dusted his clothes off, and thanked Simon.
The latter urged us to follow him. “We need to get out of here, now!”
The two remaining men were now headed for us as well, weapons drawn. They fired several shots that zipped past our heads and around us. The cabin’s wood siding cracked and exploded as the projectiles hit. We all took off running to find cover in the woods.
After a few minutes of running, we stopped and hid behind a pile of downed trees near a small stream running through the property. From our vantage point, we could see part of the cabin through the vegetation. One of the men was standing guard outside it.
“Listen,” Dad whispered. “I think they are in the cabin. We need to circle back and get to the car before they do. Simon, do you have ammunition left for that old shotgun of yours?”
“Yeah. Just a couple of shells though.”
“OK. Is there another way, other than the path, to get to the car?”
“Yeah. Follow me.”
We made our way through the woods, following the stream. After about five minutes, Simon stopped us. “The car is on the other side of that hill.”
We carefully made our way to the top of the hill. We stopped briefly and scanned the area for the men. We quickly moved, crouching to avoid being seen. We made it to the truck. Dad dug the keys out of his pants pocket and slid it in the keyhole.
“Going somewhere?” resounded a voice behind Simon, who swiftly turned around with the shotgun. Near simultaneously, two shots went off. The man dropped to the ground.
We rushed to Simon as he fell to his knees, facing away from Dad and me. At that very moment, two additional cars appeared far down the gravel path. Simon was bleeding from a wound just below the diaphragm. “I told you those were no accidents. Do you believe me now?” Simon said.
“Sali, help me move him.” Dad looked at me. We got him to his feet, one arm over Dad’s shoulder, the other over mine. “Come on, Simon. Let’s get you to the car.” Simon let out a gut-wrenching moan like I had never heard before when we tried to get him up. “I’m sorry,” Dad said, “but we need to get you some help.”
“No!” insisted Simon, the pain clearly visible on his face. “We won’t make it out of here alive if we get in that car!”
“We are going to have to take our chances,” Dad responded.
“No. Listen to me!” he said, his eyes wide open. “There is another way we can get out of here, but you have to trust me.”
“Dad, whatever we are doing, we better do it fast,” I said as the vehicles got closer.
“OK, fine. What’s your plan?” Dad asked.
“Let’s go back up the hill. We have to hurry,” Simon said.
We retraced our steps back to the stream. Simon guided us through the woods, past a clearing, into more woods. We came up to an area where rock formations, big and small, sprouted out of the ground. Some of the rocks seemed to have been there for centuries; they were covered by moss and wild mushrooms.
“Simon, where are you taking us?” Dad demanded. “You need to stop moving or you’ll bleed to death.”
“We’re here,” Simon responded as we sat him down against a tree. Between two rock formations, there was a small path going down into the base of a gigantic boulder. “Down the path …” Simon said, panting. “Remove the tree branches; you will see an entrance …” Simon sat back, catching his breath.
“And that will lead us out?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“How will we know where to go?” Dad asked.
“There is only one way out,” he said. “You will know when you see it, trust me!”
Noise coming from the trees drew our attention. The men had found us. “We know you are down there,” said a man over loudspeakers. “Come out with your hands up. We won’t hurt you.”
Dad turned toward me and held my hand. “Sali, I’m sorry I got you into this …”
“No. It’s OK, Dad. I wanted to come. It’s not your fau
lt.”
“Simon, what is so important about CR-17 that they are trying to kill us?” Dad looked at Simon. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“You are right, there is something else. You won’t believe me if I told you. This is something you have to see for yourself.”
“Simon, enough with the cryptic crap! I wanna know what is going on!”
“Easy, Dad,” I intervened.
“Let me go talk to them,” Dad said.
“I think that ship has sailed!” said Simon. “If you go out, they will shoot you on sight, especially now that I shot two of them.”
The men were moving in on us, and they made it clear they weren’t concerned about our well-being. They deployed smoke projectiles around us.
“They are moving in,” Dad said. “Let’s go.”
We each grabbed an arm, but Simon refused to move. “I am not going to make it. Give me the shotgun.” He extended his arm and opened his hand, waiting for Dad to give it to him. But Dad hesitated. “The only way you are getting out of here is if I buy you time. You know I am right. Think of your daughter.” He pointed his head in my direction.
Dad reluctantly handed the gun to him.
Simon reached into his backpack and handed me a flashlight. “Here,” he said. “You will need this.” He put his hand under his shirt at the neckline and pulled out a necklace with a neatly sculpted crystal hanging at its center. “Do me a favor,” he said to Dad. “Take this with you, will you?”
Dad took the pendant and nodded.
Simon pulled his sleeve up. Upon seeing his watches, I was taken back to the day I had met him at Solos Pizza. I remembered how meticulously obsessed he had seemed to be with tracking time. He took off one of his watches. His hands were shaking, ostensibly in pain, yet he handed the watch to Dad. “This will come in handy.” He dropped his arm and leaned back against the tree. “In my bag …” Simon added. “There is a flashlight. You will need it.”
Dad sunk his arm into the backpack and pulled out a small flashlight.
“No,” said Simon. “Take the bag with you.”
“Watch out!” I yelled, instinctively tackling Dad to the ground to prevent him from getting shot. Simon, despite his injury, shot back and yelled, “Go! Get out of here!”
One of the men pursuing us had managed to flank us. We ran to the boulder’s entrance and went inside. The cave walls were restrictive, low, and it was dark, enough to make me feel claustrophobic. We carefully moved further into the cave. For a moment, I thought I heard a scream and a gunshot echo through the cave. They shot him! I thought.
After several minutes of walking, we came upon a large opening in the cave. This area of the cave was vast and spacious, probably the main chamber of the cave system. The ceiling was a few dozen feet high and reminded me of medieval cathedrals in France, built over catacombs. While it was still dark, we could see fine once our eyes had adjusted to it; the rock facade was casting a dim and soft light. A subtle fluttering of wings drew my attention. Hundreds of bats were clinging to the ceiling.
We looked around for an exit as we left the chamber. Dad continued using the flashlight, leading the way. After several more minutes, we noticed rays of sunlight shimmering on the cave wall. We followed the light through a winding path. The closer we got to the light source, the brighter it got. We turned a corner and came to an abrupt stop.
“What on earth …?” Dad said.
“What is it, Dad?” I said while walking around him.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Memories of Mom riding Calamity Knight came rushing back in quick succession: Mom smiling, Calamity Knight frightened, Mom falling, thrown off.
“Dad,” I said in disbelief. “This is the thing that I saw the day Mom disappeared.”
“I can’t believe it,” Dad said.
The “thing” was a strange disturbance. It looked like a transparent floating puddle of water. It looked like someone, somehow, had cut out a circular piece of a calm lake with subtle undulating ripples, flipped it sideways, and made it float in midair. The ripples were following a repetitive pattern. They started from the center of the circle, slowly spread outward, then, once they hit the outer edge, rippled back in reverse toward the center. The puddle was about six feet high and six feet across.
“This is what you saw? Incredible!”
“Yeah, this was it. The thing that ruined our lives,” I regretfully responded.
Dad slowly walked out to the floating puddle.
“Dad! Don’t get too close.”
He grabbed a small rock and threw it at the puddle. The rock went straight through. I, too, got closer to it and threw a few more rocks in; they all disappeared. I slowly put my hand closer to the threshold.
“Careful, Sali,” Dad warned.
I dipped the tip of my finger. A strange tingling sensation went through my hand, which I pulled back right away.
Dad turned toward me. “Sali, I think we’ve discovered the point of entry to an Einstein-Rosen bridge! This is incredible!”
His smile turned. At that very moment, he must have realized what this meant for me. “All these years, you were telling the truth. I am so sorry I did not believe you. I thought you created an implausible scenario to cope with an impossible situation.”
“That’s OK, Dad. I wouldn’t believe me either. ‘Hi, Dad. Mom was sucked into a floating puddle of water,’” I said sarcastically, imitating my younger self. “If Mom disappeared through a wormhole, she must be somewhere. The laws of physics dictate that if matter is displaced from one place, it must occupy some other space someplace else.”
Mom was not dead. I knew she wasn’t! I could feel it in my bones. Deep down in my soul, I held out hope that she was still alive out there. Wherever “there” was. Simply put, I had to find her!
“Dad. There is a chance that she is out there, right?”
“Yeah, it is possible, but I don’t know how I feel about this, Sali. This wormhole could lead anywhere.”
“Dad, think about it, if this is the entrance to a wormhole, according to Einstein’s theories, there must be an exit somewhere at the end of it.”
“Yes, but we could be de-atomized, or worse, come out anywhere!”
I continued to plead even though the thought of going through a wormhole was terrifying to me. After all, this is the thing that swallowed up Mom.
A repetitive sound interrupted our conversation. It was Simon’s watch. Dad activated the display to reveal a three-minute countdown. As we contemplated reasons for the countdown, we heard the now-familiar sound of bats flapping their wings. A gust of wind carried the increasing decibel level; the bats were coming toward us. At first it was a few, then a dozen, and in a matter of seconds, the entire colony was headed for us. Dad and I moved out of the way and covered our heads. At the last possible moment, before hitting us, the bats made a sharp turn and disappeared into the wormhole. At that precise moment, the ripples on the wormhole got bigger. The calm lake-like appearance of the event horizon ceased. The watch beeped again, this time at the two-minute countdown mark.
“Son of a gun!” said Dad, smiling. “He knew!”
“Who knew what?” I asked.
“Simon somehow managed to time the wormhole. If I am right, this wormhole is destabilizing and will close in less than two minutes or explode to release the contained energy.”
“Dad, what’s that light coming out of your pants pocket?”
When he looked down, he was as surprised as I was when the crystal at the end of the pendant Simon had given him lit up brightly. Dad pointed at me. “Your necklace. It’s lighting up too, Sali. Whatever is affecting the wormhole is affecting these crystals as well …”
Suddenly we heard voices. I ran and checked around the corner. Multiple spotlights were canvassing the cave within fifty feet of our position. When they had disturbed the bats, they must have followed them knowing that they would lead them to an exit eventually.
We were now faced with a choice: go through
the wormhole and hope for the best, or stay put and get shot. The watch beeped once more, right when two men turned the corner, pointing their guns at us. However, the mesmerizing sight of the wormhole provided a brief distraction.
“Sali, go!” said Dad.
“Are you sure?”
“No, but if it was safe enough for bats, it must be for people as well. Go!”
The two men snapped out of their trance and opened fire just as I crossed the event horizon with Dad right behind me.
8
Beyond the Event Horizon
My ears rang; my head pulsated and caused me unbearable pain. It felt like a truck had hit me. I also felt cold to my core, the kind of cold that happens when an organic body is freeze-dried. I remembered going in the wormhole and, for a brief moment, feeling weightless. Then the disorientation set in; up was down and down was up. I felt confused and feared that stepping into a giant floating wormhole could have been a fatal mistake. But despite the immense discomfort, here I was on all fours, waiting for the vertigo to pass. The thought crossed my mind that if I felt this way, being younger, I couldn’t imagine how Dad was feeling.
“Dad!” I called out when I saw him lying still on the ground, immobile. I rushed to him and shook him, hoping to get him to react. His breathing was shallow, his eyes closed, but he seemed to have just passed out.
We were in the open in the middle of a valley littered with small rocks. The wormhole had closed behind us. From time to time, I heard strange sounds from beyond the valley. I did not know whether the area was safe or not.
Instinctively I thought about finding shelter. From my vantage point, I couldn’t see our surroundings; I had to get to high ground. “But I can’t leave Dad here either,” I whispered. “As long as I stay close and keep him in my line of sight, he should be OK.”
I walked up the small hill. On my way up, I looked back to make sure Dad was OK. As I got closer to the hilltop, I noticed something strange: I had two shadows. One was strong and strikingly visible, the other very faint but definitely present. This doesn’t make sense! Two shadows mean there are two light sources. But what could be so strong during the day to cast a second shadow?
