C.J.'s eyes lit up and he turned to his parents. "Can we please use the sleeping bags?"
C.J. had always wanted to go camping; they'd even talked about enrolling him in Boy Scouts before the world had changed. Chris smiled, "I don't see why not. How about Mom and Angie take the bed while you and I camp out on the floor?"
"Awesome!"
Brent gave them a quick tour of the house. He walked them through his office, his bedroom, the shared bathroom, and other rooms throughout the house. Chris found the office interesting; it contained several white-boards filled with symbols and equations that Chris didn't understand. He assumed it was some form of advanced mathematics and was surprised that he didn't recognize much, given that his math skills were pretty good himself. Books lay strewn about the room, some flipped upside down to mark the page, others dog-eared, and yet others filled with bookmarks and post-it notes as had been the form of those in the kitchen. He may be full of it, Chris thought, but if he is, then he sure knows how to sell the part. Chris was reminded of a movie about a math professor who became schizophrenic, yet was a complete genius, but couldn't remember his name. In any case, he figured they must share a home decorator.
"Finally," Brent said, "here is where you'll be staying." He opened the door into a quaint little room with plain white walls. A single bed and dresser combination were the only occupants. "Please make yourself at home. Extra blankets, pillows, and the sleeping bags are in the closet. If you need anything, you know where to find me. I'll leave you to it then."
"Thanks Brent, for everything," Sarah whispered. Angie was draped over her shoulder with her mouth slightly open and a puddle of drool forming in the corner of her mouth.
Brent lowered the candle and a book of matches to the dresser, and then slowly backed out of the room. He pulled the door quietly closed behind him and they were left alone.
"He seems nice," Sarah said. "It's odd to find someone who seems so genuine in a time when everyone else seems so guarded."
That's what it is, Chris thought. Most people are afraid to be who they are. Why make yourself vulnerable when anyone you're close to could be gone at any moment? If they don't escape through a portal, then they are still potential victims of robbery, murder, or any other number of heinous crimes. He thought back to the first week the portals appeared and how he'd arranged for a barbecue night with a co-worker, Bob Nelson, and his family. They showed up Friday night toting the kids, drinks, and dessert. They had stood outside Bob's house for a good hour before realizing that they weren't running late, they were just gone.
"I kind of like the guy. He's definitely a character, but I like him," Chris said.
Chris pulled the sleeping bags from the closet and unrolled them on the floor at the foot of the bed. He rubbed a hand over his, smoothing out the wrinkles. C.J. dropped to a knee and mimicked the action, looking up every few seconds to make sure he was doing it properly. Chris smiled, "Good job buddy." He grabbed the extra blankets from the closet and spread them on the bed. "Here, it's getting even colder out there. You can remove them in the night if you get too warm."
"Thanks dear," Sarah said, kissing him. "We're going to sleep, I love you."
"I love you too."
Sarah laid Angie down gently on one side of the bed; her blond hair draped over the pillow. Chris smoothed it back and kissed her on the forehead. C.J. took his shoes off and climbed into his sleeping bag. He fumbled for a second to find the zipper, and he pulled it up to his neck. "Goodnight, Mom and Dad," he said. Chris rustled his hair and patted him on the chest.
Chris blew the candle out, and the smell of melted wax lingered in the air as the last bit of smoke continued lilting upward. Chris closed himself in his sleeping bag. He placed his hands behind his head, stared at the ceiling, and released a large sigh. Here we are, he thought. We've lost everything except the clothes on our back and each other. It's depressing how quickly your whole life can change. What started the fire though? The power wasn't on, so it couldn't have been an electrical fire. I doubt Sarah left a candle burning. She's even more meticulous than I am about putting them out before bed. The firemen probably won't even find anything particular when they do get around to investigating. I doubt they actually look very thoroughly.
Chris unzipped his sleeping bag as quietly as he could and stood. He walked to the door leading out to the hallway, found the little button lock in the middle of the handle, and held the door knob in place while he pushed it in. Click. He winced at the sound, but nobody stirred in the room. It never hurts to be careful, Chris thought. You just never know. He crawled back in his sleeping bag, zipping it again, and drifted into slumber.
CHAPTER FOUR
Chris woke to the sound of laughter. It took a second to re-orient himself and realize that he wasn't at home. The memories of the night before rushed at him and came together in an instant. He rolled to his side, unzipped the sleeping bag, stood, and stretched. Sarah had made the lone bed, and the extra blankets were folded neatly at the foot. C.J. had rolled up his sleeping bag sloppily and shoved it in the corner between the dresser and the wall. Chris did the same and placed his on top of C.J.'s. He arched his back to relieve the cramped feeling, and a sharp crack punctuated the air. He opened the door to the hallway and stepped through.
He lumbered into the kitchen rubbing his eyes. A plate of what appeared to be pancakes sat on the counter next to a bowl of peach slices drowning in the syrup from the can they had come in. "Pancakes? How did you make pancakes? Where did you find eggs?" Chris asked.
Grocery stores had stopped receiving egg and fresh dairy shipments long ago. The trucks kept getting hijacked. Eventually companies and farmers stopped even trying. Brent probably used the powdered mix variety with water, but a part of Chris hoped for real pancakes made with eggs and milk.
"They aren't really pancakes,” Brent said. “I use this piece of tin to cut slices of bread into circular shapes, and then heat them on the skillet after drizzling a bit of peach syrup and sugar on them," Brent explained.
"They're delicious, Daddy!" Angie asserted. "I've eaten four."
"That's great piggers," he said. It wouldn't be as good as real, homemade, fluffy pancakes, but most of the time you just had to take what you could get. Certain things, such as pizza, eggs, and dairy products, just weren't available. They were a luxury often taken for granted. You didn't know you'd miss them until they were gone.
"Remember Mike?" Brent asked. "He called about thirty minutes ago. I hope you don't mind, but I told him that you and your family stayed here last night. He said he'd be over in a bit to talk. He seems to be very excited about finding a portal."
"Who's Mike?" Sarah asked.
"He's the guy I met at the ... you know," Chris said.
Brent picked up on the cue. He slapped his hands down on the counter and drew himself down to the level of the kids. "Hey! Who likes video games?"
The kids' eyes lit up, and they both said, "Me, me, me!"
"Well, since we seem to have electricity for a while, we might be able to get in a few games. I just might have an old gaming system sitting in the living room. Should we go check?"
"Can we? Please?" C.J. said, tugging at his mother's arm.
"Oh, all right," she said. "I'd tell you not to play too long, but just enjoy being able to play while you can. Who knows when the power will cut out again." She raised her cup of coffee and took a drink.
"Yay!" they chorused, and the two kids ran from the room with Brent following behind.
"Mike was the guy at the portal who wanted to help the lady that was hit by the car," Chris reminded her. "He was interested in finding a portal for him and his fiancée, I believe. He seemed to be a good guy." Better than most people I've met, Chris thought. At least he wanted to help that lady. Chris rose from his seat and poured himself a cup of coffee. The coffee pot sizzled when he returned the carafe.
"I hope you're right. Many people seem nice but that doesn't mean they really are," she warned.
> "It's only going to get worse," Chris agreed. "As more and more good people escape through the portals, the percentage of good people left is going to decrease steadily."
"Well, that's why we're here, right?" she said. Chris noted the reluctance in her voice, but at least she'd admitted it. "We're going to find a portal, and we're going to get out before it gets even worse. I still don't trust them, but I don't see what choice we have but to try. I just keep saying my prayers and hoping for the best."
"I know it's scary," he said. "If we find one, I'll test it out myself. I'll stick my head in, see what I can see, and come back out. Hopefully we can find a portal in a remote location off in the wilderness. Then we wouldn't have to contend with other people. Hey, these really aren't half bad!" he said, having rolled up and eaten two of the pseudo-pancakes. The best pancakes I've had in about a year, he thought. I'll take hard work, good intentions, and effort over perfection any day.
"You should get a shower. Enjoy the hot water while it lasts."
"Care to join me?" he asked, smiling.
She smiled back. "Thanks for the offer but I already took one. Trust me, it was great."
"Shut down," he said. "Oh well, your loss!" he called over his shoulder and walked from the room. He grabbed his shirt from the bedroom and made his way to the bathroom located at the end of the hall. He turned on the shower, and after a few seconds the water began to release steam. This is going to be amazing, he thought. A morning filled with coffee, pancakes and a relaxing hot shower. If only I had another set of clothes I would be set. I have to remember to take time to appreciate the good things that come my way. It's not every day that you can take a hot shower.
He let the water run from the top of his head down to his feet and raised his face into the stream. The hot water released the tension in his muscles, and he allowed himself several minutes of relaxation.
After the shower, he finished the rest of his coffee and brushed his teeth with a new toothbrush he found in one of the bathroom drawers. He put on his dirty clothes from the day before, which clung to his damp skin. He felt a pang of sadness putting them back on. It is what it is, he reminded himself. Appreciate the small things.
Chris made his way back to the kitchen, refilled his coffee mug, and then walked to the living room to see what everyone else was up to. Mike had arrived in the meantime; the kids sat in the corner playing a video game. Two love seats and a recliner formed a semi-circle around a mahogany coffee table, on which sat a laptop. Sarah sat on one love seat, Brent sat in the recliner, and Mike sat on the other love seat with a woman that Chris presumed was his fiancée. Chris sat down next to Sarah. "Hey Mike, good to see you again."
"Hey Chris, sorry to hear about what happened. Your wife just told us the story. That's truly horrible, I’m really sorry," Mike said, shaking his head.
"Thanks. Nothing we can do about it now though. What's done is done."
"This is my fiancée, Tammy," Mike said, introducing the woman next to him.
"Nice to meet you," Chris said, raising from his seat a little to lean forward and extend his hand. She shook it gently and smiled.
"I was just showing them the software I've written. If you see here," Brent said, pointing to a scatter plot on the screen, "this is the location of each portal opening that we know of for the last year. There could be some that are missing, as the government initially missed openings where there wasn't a visual spotter. It's a pretty comprehensive list though. About six months ago, we were able to detect certain waves that are emitted only by the portals. We used something that you can best think of like reverse sonar, and we were able to trace the waves back to their source."
"So you're saying the portals give off waves that can be followed?" Chris asked, somewhat confused.
"Yes, but as you know, the portals don't stay open very long, typically ten minutes or less. So that doesn't help much if you don't already happen to be at the right place at the right time. That's how I was able to reach the portal yesterday. If it hadn't happened in town, I probably would have missed it. The interesting thing, however, is that I believe I have found a way to predict where they will be opening, within a certain degree of error of course, so that we can be there before it opens."
"That's amazing," Tammy said, leaning forward.
"There is a problem though," Brent said. "The equation isn't exact, and when I backtested it against the old data it didn't match every portal opening. There is probably a minor flaw in some constant or a variable unaccounted for in the calculations. Unfortunately, without even more data, I can't really fine-tune it just yet."
"How accurate is it?" Mike asked.
"It matches 78% of the old openings within a 1000 foot radius of the actual location."
"That's pretty good," Sarah said. "Even if we only tried a few times, chances are pretty high we'd find one."
"There is one more problem," Brent frowned. "The software takes a very long time to analyze the data each time I run it. The electricity has to be stable enough to complete the entire data analysis. Otherwise the entire analysis must start over from the beginning. My laptop has approximately four hours of battery life to continue to operate on in case of a power outage.”
"Ah," Mike said.
"What about using a generator?" Chris asked.
"Even if you could find a store that's still open, home use generators have all been bought by the wealthy and the famous," Mike said. He grinned. "But I do know of a place where the power is always on."
"Where?" Chris asked.
"Hospitals."
"I highly doubt a hospital is going to let us just sit in their waiting room with a laptop plugged in," Chris said. "Especially for a whole day."
Mike's smile widened. "I don't disagree. Here's the kicker though. I'm an EMT, so I have access to most of the hospitals in the area."
"That's fantastic!" Brent said.
"I can't just plop a laptop down in the middle of the reception area and leave it, but maybe we can figure something out. I work this evening, so do you think we can get things setup today?"
Brent looked down at his feet sheepishly. "I'd like to," Brent said. "But I must admit, I'm a little nervous about just handing over my laptop. No offense, but I did just meet you, and this computer has an entire year's worth of my work on it. If something were to happen to it—”
“Trust me. I think we can all relate to that feeling,” Chris added. “This isn't exactly the most comfortable situation for any of us.”
Brent sighed. “All right, I'll start it right before you pick it up. Then you'll have about four hours to get it plugged in somewhere. It should complete somewhere between ten to twelve hours later. When would you be able to retrieve it from the hospital?"
"My shift is eight hours long, and you said the battery lasts for four hours, correct? So I could pick it up right after my shift and bring it back to you."
"That would work. I suppose we can just plan on it and get it done. What time will you be picking it up?"
"I start at four and get off at midnight. I'd be able to bring it back just after midnight if you'll still be awake."
"I can be if you're bringing it back. We could analyze the data together in the morning and see if there are any upcoming opportunities nearby."
"I don't know how everyone else feels," Chris said, "but I'd like to know what it says as soon as possible."
"It would be nice," Sarah agreed, nodding.
"That'll work," Mike said, "as long as Brent doesn't mind the late-night company."
"It's fine by me," Brent said.
The group split up and went about their days. Mike and Tammy left for their house, and Brent went to fine-tune the application and ensure the laptop was ready to go. Chris played some video games with the kids, but the power went out not long after he joined them, bringing the games to a halt. They decided that while Sarah and the kids went to a local park Chris would take a walk and see if he could salvage anything from their home.
Chris stepped out the front door, and a dreary day met him just over the threshold. Ranks of storm clouds marched across the sky, threatening to release their swarms of rain drops upon the world. The streets were deserted except for an elderly lady across the street with her dog; she was probably waiting for it to perform its morning constitutional.
It's nice to be alone for a bit, Chris thought. Things have been moving too fast. I can't believe all of this has happened. Just 24 hours ago things were bad, but they weren't this bad. At least we'd had a home, each other, and our memories. In a single day, we've lost two out of the three.
He covered the first three blocks quickly but stopped before proceeding down the last block. I'm not quite sure I'm ready to see the damage. How do you face the destruction of everything you own and value in this world? He sighed, shaking his head, and continued the trek forward. The four corners of their house stood like pyres used to burn the corpses of their hope in the remains. Smoke still billowed from the interior, floating calmly into the sky. Chris's heart dropped at the sight, and he doubted there would be anything usable remaining. He walked up the walkway to what was once the front door and stepped over a section of the house that had once been an exterior wall. Footprints were scattered throughout the ashy remains, presumably from the firefighters (and most likely looters that had come to scavenge what they could).
I can't blame them too much, Chris thought. We've become animals fending for ourselves and our own first.
No, Chris thought. I still don't think I could do it. It'd be pretty heartless to come and take the last things of a family that has already lost their most important possession. Your house is your safety, security, and sacred place to be together. Without a house, you're just drifting aimlessly through the world, seeking sanctuary wherever you can find it.
Chris crossed his arm across his face and used his sleeve to prevent from inhaling the smoke. He walked through the remains looking for anything that might prove useful. The sound of cracking glass sang underfoot, so he stepped back and knelt. He rustled the pile of ash to see what lay under his footprint. The faces of Sarah, himself, C.J. as a toddler, and the oblivious stare of baby Angie were uncovered. He picked up the picture by its golden frame, held it out, and wiped away the remaining ash. It took us 45 minutes to get C.J. to smile just right. The silly photographer had tried everything, from putting a rubber duck on his head to having a co-worker pretend to fall down, Chris remembered. Nothing worked, until I'd simply promised him ice cream if he smiled for the picture.
Portals Page 4
