Glassford Girl: Boxed Set (Complete Series) (Time Jumper Series)

by Jay J. Falconer

  “Let go of me!” Emily screamed, kicking and punching with every ounce of energy she had.

  But the Orange Man’s grip was like iron and her blows had no effect. He looked like an exact copy of the man from Miller’s backyard, but his movements were different—he was more fluid, more efficient than before. She got the sense that he was a superior model with upgrades. The notion sounded ridiculous to her, but it didn’t make the thought any less real in her mind.

  The briefcase began to hum as it crackled with energy. The inside of the lid had changed its color from a nondescript gray to an electric blue. Then a bolt of liquid fire leapt across the space and connected with his forehead like a harpoon.

  Orange Man focused his gaze on the glowing blue surface inside the case, still attached by the tether of blue energy stuck to his forehead. His gaze was focused and intense, as if he were keying in a command sequence with his mind.

  Blue flame—though it was a lighter blue than Emily was used to seeing—lighter than the bolts that crisscrossed her body when she jumped—began to creep down from his head and move across his body like a swarm of ants. When it made its way across his shoulder and down his arm, it touched Emily at the midpoint of her back.

  Her skin tingled, but not like the tingle she usually felt in her spine when a jump first started to build. This sensation was not as intense, spreading out and covering her like a form-fitting garment. It scratched at her skin, but was far less painful than the overwhelming, full body sensation she’d experienced so many times before her jumps.

  A shadow of movement caught Emily’s eye. She looked up, directing her attention to the front of the house. Nora was standing flatfooted in the open front doorway, her mouth agape and her eyes fierce.

  Emily figured she was taking in the scene—Derek and Duane lying in crumpled heaps while Orange Man held Emily under his arm with a growing field of pulsating blue flame expanding across the two of them.

  Emily looked at Orange Man’s eyes, but his attention was on the briefcase and he didn’t seem to notice Nora, who was now heading their way at a full gallop.

  The briefcase hummed louder as the blue energy continued its advance, now covering her shoulders and waist. When it found her belly, she felt an intense, sharp pain just below her navel.

  “Mom!” Julius cried out from the darkness of her mind.

  “Julius!” she answered, punching at the Orange Man’s chin. “Stop it! You’re hurting him!” she screamed, but the mammoth’s grip remained strong.

  Emily sent a stream of thoughts and emotions to Julius. It was hard to focus what she was feeling into something positive, but she sent the communication anyway. She expected a quick answer from her baby and got it. But what Julius sent back didn’t make any sense: “2C49.”

  The energy field was now starting down her legs. She knew it wouldn’t be long before she and Orange Man were completely covered by the growing energy field. Once that happened, she was sure they’d jump away together—probably back to the ship. A ship that must be hovering in orbit somewhere.

  “Oh fuck NO you AIN’T!” Nora yelled when she arrived at high speed, lowering her shoulder like a linebacker closing in on a running back.

  Orange Man looked up from the briefcase a millisecond before Nora slammed into his chest. He let go of his grip on Emily as the force of her impact sent him backwards.

  Emily felt time slow to a crawl, ticking by like some special effect in an action movie. She found herself falling to the ground, free from both the Orange Man and the blue energy. She watched in horror as the energy field instantly reached its crescendo and spread out to fully engulf both Nora and the in-flight Orange Man, still twisting in midair.

  “Nora!” Emily screamed as time ticked by another frame.

  There was a brilliant flash of white light and a loud crack right before Nora, Orange Man, and the briefcase vanished from sight.

  All that was left behind was a smoldering scorch mark in the front lawn.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  Fifteen seconds earlier . . .

  Duane sat up and opened his eyes to see his wife’s flying body block into Orange Man. He would’ve felt sorry for the muscle-bound freak if he hadn’t just sent Duane flying into the car door. Nora was far stronger and more determined than anyone suspected, a fact Duane had learned time and time again over their long marriage.

  He watched Emily drop free while Nora and Orange Man flew sideways inside a glowing blue fireball.

  Duane sucked in a full charge of air, planning to get to his feet and go help his wife take on the intruder. But then it happened—a blinding flash of white light and a loud crack. When it was over, Nora and Orange Man had vanished. So, too, had his metallic briefcase.

  Duane’s mind froze, not wanting to accept what he’d just seen. He closed his eyes for a three count before opening them again, praying Nora would be sitting with Emily—smiling back at him. But she wasn’t. His wife was still gone.

  Every ounce of energy drained from his body in an instant. “Nora!” he screamed with tears welling in his eyes. He doubled over and wrapped his arms around his stomach to contain the pain.

  A few seconds later, Duane felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, then heard a male voice in his ear. It was Derek, but Duane couldn’t hear the kid’s words. Not with his mind flooded with a thousand memories of his wife.

  Emily showed up, too, and wrapped her arms around Duane’s neck. He could feel her warmth and kindness bleeding through the intensity of her hug.

  Like Derek, she was trying to console him with words, but again, he couldn’t hear them clearly. Everything seemed muffled and distant, like he was drowning underwater.

  Just then, a different male’s voice spoke up. It was the voice of his son, Duane, Jr. This time he could hear the words perfectly. Somehow, the soft tone of a scared teenager’s voice was able to cut through the pain pressing on Duane’s heart.

  “Dad? What’s going on?” Junior asked.

  Duane managed to wrangle control away from his emotions long enough to bring his head up and make eye contact with Emily.

  She let go of his neck and leaned back.

  “Don’t let my kids see me like this. Please,” he told her in a weak voice.

  Emily nodded, then stood up and ran to the front door where Junior was standing with a stunned look on his face. Monica was now beside him in the doorway, her arms wrapped around her brother’s waist.

  “Where’s my mom?” Monica asked Emily with a petrified look on her face.

  Emily scooped the kids up in a wrap of her arms. “Let’s go inside and I’ll explain.”

  “But my dad?” Monica asked. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  “Come on, now. Both of you. Inside. Your dad needs a minute, okay?”

  Duane watched the front door close, then brought his attention to Derek.

  “Sorry, buddy,” Derek said in a somber tone. “I tried to stop that guy. I really did.” Derek’s shoulders slumped and his head dropped, pressing his chin into his chest.

  “I know you did,” Duane said, wanting to console the kid, but he couldn’t find the strength to utter any more words. His breath was short and his head became dizzy, just as time began to slow down.

  It felt as though all of his senses were on fire, allowing him to actually feel the moisture in the air. The atmosphere seemed to be closing in around him, like a suffocating blanket.

  The deafening thump of his heartbeat wasn’t helping him concentrate either, pounding at every cell across his body. His pain receptors were in overdrive, making his eyelids and even his hair hurt.

  Duane heard the screech of tires coming from the street to his right. He craned his neck up and looked to see what was happening.

  It was Jim’s truck, skidding sideways and coming to an abrupt stop with its front tires sitting on top of the cement sidewalk. The driver’s door flew open and Jim came tearing around the hood and into the grass.

  “Jesus, Christ. What the h
ell happened?” Jim asked Duane the moment he arrived. Jim dropped to his knees, putting his hands on Duane’s shoulders.

  Duane swallowed hard. “She’s gone, Jim.”

  “Who? Emily?”

  “No. Nora . . . The Orange Man took her away.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

  A short time later, Emily began to get dressed in the spare clothes Monica had found in the back of her closet. The selection of clothes that Duane’s daughter had picked out wouldn’t have been Emily’s choice, but she was thankful to finally be able to cover up.

  Even though coming out naked happened every time she jumped, she’d never gotten used to the total embarrassment of it all. Especially when her friends were around. Or total strangers, for that matter. She always wanted to scream and run away, but had learned it was best to act like it was no big deal.

  “Just cover up what you can and remain composed” was her motto—always the best course of action when you find yourself stark naked in public.

  Otherwise, a total freak-out would just make the whole situation worse. If that was even possible.

  Emily started with the pair of form-fitting jeans, then slipped on a black Nirvana t-shirt that barely covered her torso, stopping just short of the top of the jeans.

  She went and stood in front of the standup oval mirror next to Monica’s dresser. She checked the outfit. It was a little snug, but it fit. She turned sideways to check her profile and her butt.

  “Looking sexy, Em,” she said to the mirror, wearing a forced smile in an attempt to cover up the heartache she was feeling for Nora, Duane, and their kids. Pain and regret always seemed to find her, but now that Julius was onboard and feeling everything she was, she needed to push the anguish aside and focus on something else. Derek was an obvious choice, so that’s what she decided to do.

  She hoped Derek would notice and appreciate her new look, thanks to Monica’s donation. He’d been in a foul mood ever since they’d stepped inside after Nora vanished in the front yard. Something had him all pissed off.

  She sighed. Boys!

  Right then her eyes noticed something. It was right at the point where the tight t-shirt and the jeans came together. She pulled the shirt up to expose the skin underneath, then checked the angle of her belly.

  “Huh?” she asked, realizing her stomach was pushed out a bit. It wasn’t her time of the month yet, so she didn’t think it was bloating from water retention. And, there was no chance she’d put on any weight recently since she hardly ever had time to eat. Hmmm. So that must mean it had to be . . . a baby bump!

  “No, not yet,” she mumbled, knowing she’d been pregnant less than a week.

  Maybe it’s the jeans, she thought.

  She unbuttoned them and pulled the zipper down to relax the fit. She checked again.

  Crap. The bump was still there. As skinny as she was, it wouldn’t be long before someone noticed. Like Derek, when he wrapped his arms around her. Or Jim, who never seemed to miss anything—ever.

  She sighed, knowing she’d have to come clean and do so soon.

  Emily remained still and admired her profile with the shirt still up and the jeans undone. Her hands came together and rubbed across the area, wondering if Julius could feel her touch.

  “Can you feel Mommy’s hands?” she asked her son. But an answer didn’t come. He must have been asleep, or hiding. She could never be sure which.

  Emily let the question fade and stared at her figure in the mirror, wondering how big she’d get before Julius was born.

  Her mind flashed a scene of her waddling in an uneven jog down a dark alley while trying to avoid the cops. Even though it was only a dream, it still sent a chill across her neck and back. Running like that wouldn’t be good for her son, or for her. That meant her days of living in the shadows would soon be over.

  More questions streamed into her mind—only the new set were much more negative and scary—the kind of questions that made her heart race and her breath grow short.

  Emily concentrated and stopped the thoughts, not wanting to deal with them at the moment. Not with Julius nearby and probably tuned in. She wanted him to be a happy child and not be scared and worried all the time. Like she was.

  “Mommies have to be strong,” she mumbled to herself. “Even when they don’t want to be.”

  She turned to face the mirror and took a minute to run her fingers through her mop, trying to fix what was right now a total and complete disaster. Some of the red strands did what she wanted them to do, but the rest of them . . . well, let’s just say they had other plans and weren’t in the mood to listen.

  Her hair was perpetually a disaster—just like her life—but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Being a homeless time jumper took its toll on all things Emily, and she’d given up trying to be a fashion princess a long time ago.

  The end of the bed called out for her, so she went to it and sat down. She bent over and slipped on the pair of low-top Chuck Taylor sneakers and began to tie the laces.

  Emily knew she had a lot of explaining to do to Derek, Duane, and the rest of the gang, but decided it would be best to wait until the proper time to do so. Nora had just disappeared and her husband and kids were an emotional wreck.

  Even with the baby bump starting to show, right now wasn’t about her. It was about the Morris family. The family who had taken her in and come to her rescue on multiple occasions.

  Her heart was breaking for each one of them, especially Nora, who was now God knows where. Emily feared Nora was lashed down and being tortured on the ship, just like what had happened to her and her mom ages ago.

  When the laces on the second shoe were tight, she got up and scurried down the hall and went back to the TV room where everyone else was gathered.

  Emily decided to move in next to Jim, who was near the door and holding Duane’s double-barreled shotgun across his chest. None of them were sure if Orange Man would make another appearance, so standing guard made sense.

  Duane was sitting at an angle on the couch with his two kids on either side of him. It was obvious the poor, red-faced man was emotionally distraught over what had just happened to Nora. His lungs were still hyperventilating and his face was red and dripping with sweat.

  Duane Junior gave a tall glass of water to his dad and helped him take a sip. Monica was on the other side of Duane, tending to his sweating problem with a washcloth from the bathroom.

  Both of the kids had changed a lot while Emily had been away.

  Junior was filling out nicely into his taller frame. The growth of stubble across his chin and his lengthy sideburns were a nice touch, making him look much more mature. He was no longer the pale-skinned adolescent she remembered.

  Monica’s purple and yellow hair was definitely new and a bit over the top, but somehow it seemed to fit her off-center personality. Emily wondered how the teenager was able to convince her rule-enforcing mom to let her keep the defiant new look. That, and not have to remove the diamond stud sparkling from her left nostril.

  The TV room was a thirty-foot rectangular addition running parallel to the back of the house. It didn’t exist the last time Emily had been in the Morris’ home, which was the night she was asked to house-sit for them.

  At the time, Duane and Nora were taking the kids on vacation in California for the weekend and were nice enough to ask Emily to keep an eye on the place while they were gone.

  Sure, part of the reason they asked her was for their benefit, but she was smart enough to know they really did it for her. They didn’t want her sleeping on the street somewhere, or taking her chances in one of the disgusting shelters around town.

  It was the same night she’d invited Derek over without their permission. A few cocktails later, the two of them ended up in bed together—in Nora’s and Duane’s bed—having sex.

  Not cool, Emily thought, reprimanding herself for some poor decision making at the time.

  The longest side of the new family room featured a built-in books
helf at each end with a flat screen television hanging on the wall between. The two short sides of the room held viewing windows with fancy wood shutters covering the glass. All the shutters were twisted open at the moment, showering the room with long casts of shadows from the early morning sun.

  Against the wall opposite from the TV was a huge six-piece sectional couch, plus two easy chairs and a central coffee table covered with a sprawl of remote controls and sports magazines.

  “This room is new. I like it,” Emily said to Miller, who was hovering next to her. The man’s eyes were locked onto Duane as Monica dabbed a cold compress to her father’s forehead.

  “Yeah, Duane and I built it last summer,” Miller said, shifting his weight on his feet. His eyes darted about the room, stopping on each of the windows and doors. Every time his focus moved, the shotgun followed. “It’s amazing what a few meat-lover pizzas and a case of beer can accomplish. And this time, neither of us put a nail through our fingers with the nail gun. That’s a first.”

  She laughed. “I’ll bet.”

  “But I have to hand it to Nora. She never said a word about it, even though I know she was secretly standing by with the first aid kit. I think in the end she was a little disappointed when the project was done and no bloodletting took place. Life certainly has its traditions, but I’m glad we were able to finally shake that one. It’s never good when all the nurses at the ER know you by name.”

  “Well, you guys did a nice job,” she said, admiring the antique jukebox parked against the wall adjacent to the hallway entrance. No music was playing but its lights were on and flashing. So, too, were the lights across the front of the standup dart machine, ten feet to its right.

  Emily thought about something the computer geek, Sheldon, had told her about in the library. “I take it this is supposed to be Duane’s Man Cave?”