The next level would be harder to reach. An outcrop of rock was accessible above him, but there were no footholds to use. He shifted Maggie around to his back to free his hands. He grabbed hold of the ledge with his fingertips, then worked his palm up to better his grip. He strained to pull himself higher. Damn, should have done push-ups with Drew all those mornings, he thought.
He was close now, but needed to swing his leg around and over a blue-speckled cactus-like plant growing along the face of the rock; its two-inch red thorns were only millimeters from his crotch. With his luck, he figured they were laced with a toxic venom. He swung his body over and around the plant—success!—no prickly man parts.
The top level was too far up to reach with his hands. He couldn’t climb up, at least not from here. He worked his way around to the backside of the rock formation. He saw a climbing path across the rock face that would get them to the top, but he needed to clear a couple of fallen tree limbs out of the way to reach it.
“I have to put you down for a minute.”
“No! Please, don’t! I’m scared!”
He peeled Maggie off his neck, swung her around to his chest, and then put her down gently on the smoothest rock in front of him. He wiped the tears from her cheek and brushed some of her blond locks behind her ear. “It’ll be okay. I’m right here. I won’t leave you. I promise.”
She nodded, then huddled herself into a tight ball with her razor-thin arms wrapped around her bruised legs.
Lucas used all his body weight to drag the first branch toward the edge, then pushed it over the side. He heard a loud crash below when it hit the bottom a few seconds later. He did the same with the other limb.
He returned to the girl and bent down in front of her. “Hurry, climb on my back,” he said.
She did, hanging onto him like a knapsack. She wrapped her stubby legs around the front of his belly and locked them together. Good thing he was skinny, otherwise her legs never would have reached the front.
“Hang on and don’t let go, no matter what,” he told her. Her arms and legs tightened around him, restricting his airflow a bit—but he could still breathe. He used both of his hands to steady himself as he stepped up onto each successively higher rock, working his way from right to left, back toward the front side of the boulders. The sharp edges of the rock surface tore at his fingertips, challenging him to hang on. He did. He made his way higher, hand-over-hand, toward the top of the rock formation, leaving bloody fingerprints behind.
“Three points of contact,” he reminded himself—two footholds and one handhold at all times.
The forest went silent. Lucas no longer heard birds or other sounds of life. He wondered if the Taku Beast had arrived and was waiting for him at the top. Probably take his head off with one swipe.
Gotta protect the girl, he vowed. He looked down the rock formation. No way, he thought, are we going back. He looked up. The only choice was to keep climbing. He did.
FOURTEEN
He made it to the top and peeked over the edge—all clear—no snarling meat-eater waiting for a gooey afternoon snack. He pulled his chest higher with his precious cargo holding on tight. He swung his right leg over the ledge, using it as extra leverage to deliver their combined weight to safety. They made it.
He could see the crest of the mountain off in the distance. At least he knew the direction of travel from here—if they somehow survived the hour.
The cave entrance was just a few feet away. He ran for the opening and ducked inside. The air was thick and wet—difficult to take into his lungs. He inhaled again, this time with purpose. His nose detected the pungent aroma of dung and rotting meat. He looked deep into the darkness, expecting to see a pair of glowing, reflective eyes looking back at him, or possibly hear the huff of a ravenous breath stirring in the shadows. He watched and listened. It was quiet, except for the casual melody of water dripping off the rock, and the faint scurry of feathers above him in the darkness.
He slid Maggie off his back and pushed her body close to the wall, keeping himself between her and whatever predator might be lurking inside. He picked up the largest rock near his feet. It was twice the size of his hand, with a sharp point on one end. He bounced it in his palm—maybe two pounds, he decided—he’d probably only get one shot. It would have to do.
He heard rustling behind him, outside the cave. He spun around and moved in front of Maggie, keeping her corralled behind his legs with his arms.
A shimmering-white ten-foot-tall Taku Beast materialized in front of him, just six feet from the cave entrance. He could see bits and pieces of the forest backdrop shining through the animal’s muscular body. It was an oscillating, semi-transparent creature with different parts of it furry presence visible at different times.
He measured the length of the predator’s arms visually and realized that if it took a swipe, it might be able to reach him. He stepped back, herding his innocent companion deeper into the cave behind him.
The towering beast snarled at him, showing its ten-inch fangs as orange-colored spit coagulated and dripped from the tips in clumps. Its foul breath shot out and washed over Lucas’ face, sending chills down his spine and weakening his resolve. This is it, he thought. Kleezebee and Drew would have to go on without him. He didn’t stand a chance.
The beast widened is mouth, tilted its head back, and let out a bone-chilling roar after a massive inhale.
The girl shrieked.
Lucas’ chest tightened; he couldn’t breathe.
The animal lowered its shoulders and raised its mighty claws into an attack position. Lucas stepped forward and threw the rock as hard as he could, aiming for the creature’s head. The rock seemed to sail through the air in slow motion. He watched it hone in on its target—a perfect shot, he thought. Just as the rock arrived, the animal disappeared from sight. The rock flew past the creature’s position and skipped off the hardscape beyond it. No wonder the hunters in town couldn’t track and kill this thing. It never remained in one place long enough for someone to kill it.
The beast reappeared three feet to the left. It roared and snarled again, then it charged.
Lucas had only one choice—wrestle the creature over the edge—the sixty-foot-drop might kill it. He stepped forward to intercept the creature, holding out his arms like a wrestler ready to start a match. He knew he was about to be ripped to shreds, but he might be able save the child. He didn’t know why, but he shut his eyes, charged, and waited for impact.
Seconds passed and he felt nothing. He stopped running and opened his eyes. The creature was gone. He searched the front of the cave—no sign of it. He turned back and went inside the cave to get Maggie, but she wasn’t there. He called out for her and waited. Only the echo of his voice answered from the ample darkness. Little Maggie was gone, but there was no blood where she was last standing. Lucas figured the creature must have phase-shifted around him and snatched her, then disappeared again.
A sharp pain dazed his heart, as black emotions swelled inside. His legs buckled, sending his knees crashing into the dirt-covered, rocky surface. His arms, neck, and shoulders hung limp, failing to respond to his command. He didn’t understand why he was feeling this way. He barely knew the child, but somehow he felt a tremendous loss—the kind of loss that paralyzes even the strongest man. Sure, he could rally the strength to face an impossible research deadline, or stand his ground against a trio of seething rugby players ready to kick his ass, but when it came to unexpected emotions, he was clearly deficient, inadequate, less than human in some way.
Perhaps Maggie awoke something in him, reminding him of his long-lost brother. She was frail and weak, unable to defend herself against a predator, much like Drew, who was out there in the cosmos somewhere. Alone. Scared. Defenseless.
“Fuck!” he screamed, as his mind blurred. He tried to remember Drew’s face, but the image was fuzzy and distant in his mind. He looked around for a reflective surface, hoping to catch another glimpse of his brother’s calming face,
but there were none.
He searched his memories, but he couldn’t hear the boyish sound of his brother’s laughter flooding his heart. It felt like his love for Drew was slipping away and if that were true, so was his reason for living. He dragged his body next to the wall and sat with his back against it. He raised his knees close to his chest, and put his head in his hands. He’d never felt more alone than at that moment. Tears swelled in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Drew. I just can’t do this anymore,” he said, with disdain for life itself. What was the point? He was never going to find his brother. Drew was gone and probably dead, just like Maggie. His quest the past eighteen months had been a fool’s errand. Everybody knew it, except him. Even Kleezebee had made peace with the fact that Drew, his biological son, wasn’t coming home—ever.
Kleezebee had been a patient, caring friend. He seemed to tolerate Lucas’ interminable desire to search for Drew in countless alternate realities, knowing that the odds of finding Drew were almost zero. Any competent physicist knows that the number of parallel realities borders on the infinite, meaning the odds of just finding a universe where Earth was inhabited was astronomically difficult.
Lucas had made forty-seven trips into alternate dimensions thus far, and of those, Earth had been inhabited only four times. One of the Earths he had visited was perpetually in the dark and its atmosphere was supercharged with static lighting, making his hair stand on end the moment he arrived. It took him a week after that trip to feel normal again.
He had searched for Drew in each inhabited reality, but only once did he manage to find a version of Drew—the wrong version. That particular Drew wore a thick, handlebar mustache and wasn’t confined to a wheelchair. Nor had he ever been an orphan. That Drew was living happily with his biological mom, Lauren, who never died in the car accident when Drew was young. It was a perfect example of why finding his version of Drew was going to be impossible; there’s an infinite number of time lines in an endless sea of universes.
So why couldn’t he accept it? Why couldn’t he let his foster brother go? He wanted to. God knows his life would be a whole lot simpler, but for some reason he couldn’t; he wasn’t wired that way. He’d never quit anything in his life.
But maybe it was time he did.
Too bad he wasn’t going to live long enough to witness Fuji’s test of the new incursion equipment in the basement of Kleezebee’s cabin. It had curious potential, but still, Lucas didn’t think it could work. After all, penetrating the compressed fabric of space-time had never been attempted before, let alone controlled for a specific outcome. Granted, Fuji was beyond brilliant, but even his new Fijix math couldn’t account for the infinite complexities of random subatomic particles in a quantum field. Space-time—like life itself—had its own agenda and anyone who dared to think they might be able to tame it was either too arrogant or too naive to grasp its single-mindedness.
He snickered and shook his head. If his friends thought finding Drew was impossible, what did that make Fuji’s plan to digitize, transmit, and remotely access his former life across the infinite landscape of the universe? Ludicrous? He laughed again, harder this time. He was confident that they could generate the power needed with the spheres of E-121 material, but the unpredictable nature of dangerous exotic particles could be catastrophic. He had asked Kleezebee repeatedly about it, but the professor assured him that Fuji had it covered.
Sometimes the galvanizing forces of pride and stubbornness blind you to the truth, leading you down a path of hopelessness. Fuji and his plan were no exception. Neither was Lucas’ quest to find Drew.
Lucas sat quietly on the cold, damp floor, watching a family of bats hanging by their feet from the ceiling. They seemed to be fighting for position in the protective recesses of the remote cave, as if they were at war with each other, but in a huddled, cooperative way. He marveled at their blind tenacity, working together to protect each other. Their survival was clearly a team sport, one filled with uncertainty and doubt, but they chose to face it together, like a family.
Lucas tossed a rock at the flurry of bats. He missed. “Enjoy the time together, my little friends, ‘cause it never lasts.”
He studied the fresh scar on his wrist and realized that the end was near. Time was running out and he had no idea where he was or how to get home. This one-way trip to the middle of nowhere would be the final act of his miserable existence. He had no food, no water, no weapon, and no hope. All he had for company was a deranged traveler who spoke in riddles.
It wouldn’t be long until the beast came back to exact its revenge for Kleezebee’s slaughter of its mate. His mind could almost feel his weary flesh being torn loose from the bone.
He thought again about the words they’d use on his tombstone and offered up a phony laugh. “Fitting justice for the meat-cleaver king,” he said.
The growing day paralyzes only undeserving nomads in vague ecstasy, his alter ego said.
Lucas shrugged, then shouted back at the traveler. “I know you’re trying to cheer me up, but I just don’t see the point anymore. My brother is dead. My mother is dead. Dad died years ago. I’m stuck on this miserable planet, in some fucking cave in another universe. I’m lost with no food or water, and nobody knows where I am. Plus, I have a royally pissed-off Taku Beast just waiting to rip me a new asshole. Seriously, how much more am I supposed to take? I’m so goddamn tired. I just want this day to end.”
Lucas waited, but the traveler said nothing. He put his head against the wall and shut his eyes. His mind drifted with thoughts of his family. Drew, Dorothy, and John were standing together in loving embrace on the far end of a long, suspension bridge overlooking an endless sea of speckled white. He could almost feel the wisp of fresh sea air as it gently washed over the aging scars on his cheeks. He wondered what his family would say when he crossed over. They’d probably yell at him for taking too damn long to join them, but at least they’d be together again, as a family. In the end, that’s all that mattered.
He found it interesting that he’d never considered believing in the afterlife until right then. Maybe facing certain death helps you find your way toward faith. But does it count if you find God on the last day when all hope is lost? Probably not, he decided. He’d never get that lucky. There are no shortcuts to salvation. He was doomed to fry along with all the murderous Krellian bugs and a few college professors he despised. Oh, yeah, and one pretentious attorney named Larson.
“Screw this,” he said, standing up. He stepped outside the cave and took a few minutes to enjoy the picturesque mountain landscape and allow the sun’s tender embrace to soak into his skin. He walked to the edge of the rock formation and looked out across the grassy meadow below. It looked much smaller than before, almost as if it had shrunk while he was cowering inside the cave.
One of the two vultures still circling overhead let out a pair of echoing shrieks. He wondered if the sound was a cry of recognition, or a screech of hunger? Maybe the airborne scavengers could sense his growing dehydration and failing resolve. His throat and lips were dry and his head was throbbing. Soon, the meat on his bones would be the main course for their dinner.
He studied the rocks sixty feet below and calculated the kinetic energy of an object at impact. “With my luck, I’d bounce,” he said, visualizing his life as a battered quadriplegic. Yet, if he adjusted the trajectory, a headfirst fall from the ledge would certainly accomplish the task. He inched his toes over the edge, spread his arms out like Jesus on the cross, and shut his eyes. A calming peace filled his heart, as a flurry of wind seemed to grab him from behind and nudge him forward.
FIFTEEN
Lucas heard a faint sound off in the distance, a young man’s voice calling out for him.
“Lucas! Can you hear me?” the voice asked, the words floating gently across the plain.
Lucas snapped out of his daydream, lowered his foot, and backed away from the ledge. The voice called out for him again—this time louder and sharper. His heel caug
ht a rock; he stumbled backward and landed flat on his ass, with his boney elbows smashing into the rocky surface.
He shook off the pain and stood up. He was sure he knew the voice. “Drew?” he mumbled, as his bolstered emotions took control. It sounded as if his brother were directly in front of him, somewhere in the waist-high grass of the meadow. Lucas scanned the field, but didn’t see him—only the dry stalks swayed under the command of the wandering breeze.
“Drew!” he screamed. “I can hear you. Where are you?” He listened carefully. There was no response. He had to get moving.
“I’m coming for you! Don’t move!” he said, running to the left. He shimmied down the rock face, retracing his steps across each level of the rock pile. Tiny shards of rock and sand tore at the skin on his elbows and hands, but he didn’t care, nor did he slow his descent. He continued at breakneck speed, arriving at the bottom in only a minute.
“Drew! . . . It’s Lucas! . . . Where are you?” Again no response. He figured his brother must not have heard him and probably moved off into the forest. He decided to sprint to the middle of the clearing and look for tracks. He expected to find twin ruts a couple of feet apart where the wheelchair would have plowed through the grass. Drew couldn’t walk and wouldn’t be able to move without it.
When he arrived at what he thought was Drew’s position, he found that the grass hadn’t been disturbed.
Damp coldness grew inside him. He was sure the voice was Drew’s and it had originated from this location. Drew must be nearby. He walked in concentric circles, increasing the circumference and speed with each revolution. He found nothing but virgin grass and his own size-ten footprints.
“Drew!” he called out repeatedly, with his hands cupped around his mouth. Yet only the rhythmic sounds of Mother Nature responded.
Incursion (The Narrows of Time Series Book 2) Page 11
