by Bryan Davis
After setting down the violin case, Nathan leaned over the metal rail and looked down the gap between the flights of stairs. “This looks like the one I used earlier.”
“Right.” Kelly took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If you go down to the second floor, you’ll be right next to where you climbed in the building.”
“So on the first floor it’ll come out near the secure area.” He turned to Francesca. “What’s the code?”
She closed her eyes tightly. “Nine, three, eight, zero.”
Nathan tilted his head. That was strange. The code on the door where they kept her and Clara was eight, four, seven, one. They followed a definite pattern. “When we get to the first floor, I’ll sneak out by myself and try the code, while you watch from the stairwell. If it works, you two follow.”
After picking up the violin and descending the stairs, Nathan opened the hallway door a crack and peeked out, keeping his mirror tucked close to his side. No one was around. So far, so good. He slipped into the hall and headed for the door to the secure area, but when he passed the adjacent hallway that led to the rear door of the observatory, a strange light caught his attention.
He looked back toward the stairs. Kelly’s eyes appeared through a tiny sliver in the doorway. Raising a finger, he mouthed, “Just a minute” and set the violin case down. Then, running on the balls of his feet, he hurried to the exit door and looked out the square window. The only light he could find shone from a fixture hanging on the curved wall of the domed building at his right. Since night had taken over the skies, not much else was visible.
Just as he was about to turn back, lights flashed — low-beam headlights. A small car drove into view, scuffing the sandy driveway as it skidded to a stop. The driver jumped out — a tall, muscular guy wearing a tight gray sweatshirt. With his oversized hood pulled up, shadows covered his face, though billows of white puffed from within. Obviously it was a cold evening on Earth Blue. Maybe the freakish weather had invaded this dimension as well.
As the driver moved to the back of the car, the trunk popped open. He withdrew a square white box, about the size of a small toaster oven. Pausing for a moment, he leaned over and peered into the car’s window as if looking for something on the backseat.
He suddenly jerked his head around. Another set of headlights flashed into his face. He raised a forearm to shield his eyes, then, ducking his head low, rushed to the observatory.
A black Mustang convertible screeched into view and smacked into the side of the smaller car. The Mustang driver leaped out, carrying a double-barrel shotgun at his hip.
12
A HERD’S GIFT
Nathan crouched and squeezed his body against the corner next to the hinges. Since the hall was barely wider than the entry-way there was nowhere else to go.
The security pad beeped four times. As the lock disengaged, twin shotgun blasts ripped into the metallic entrance, sounding like a thousand pebbles thrashing an aluminum garbage can. Something thudded against the door, swinging it open. The sweatshirt-clad man fell into the hallway still clutching the white box, now smeared with red. Lying facedown across the threshold, his buckshot-riddled body held the door open. Blood spread across the back of his sweatshirt, connecting the dozens of holes in a wash of muted scarlet.
Nathan leaped toward him and looked out the door. The attacker had broken the shotgun open and was reloading the barrels. Grabbing the victim’s wrists, Nathan pulled, but something caught. He couldn’t budge the hefty man.
Groaning, the man looked up at him. “Nathan? You really are alive!”
Nathan dropped to his knees. “Mr. Clark? Tony Clark?”
Tony slid the box into Nathan’s hands. “Clara sent this to your father. She said it might be his only hope.”
The gunman snapped the barrels back in place and stalked toward them. Tony pushed against the floor, and, with Nathan’s help, was able to rise to his feet. Staggering in place, he pushed Nathan to the side. “Go! I’ll hold him off!” He pulled away from Nathan’s grip, took a long stride out the door, and slammed it shut.
Tony’s distinctive voice penetrated the metal barrier. “Back off, Jack!”
Like booming thunder, the shotgun replied with two volleys. More pellets rained on the door, followed by a thud and the scraping sound of Tony’s body sliding down the outer side.
Nathan clutched his stomach but kept silent, not daring even to breathe. He slowly eased toward the door’s window and peeked through the glass. His heart pounded. Tony lay motionless in front of the door, his chest now a ragged mess of bloody shredded cotton. Not a hint of movement. He had to be dead.
The Mustang driver, his shotgun again at his hip, stalked toward him. Although he also wore a hooded sweatshirt, the light passed across his bearded face, making the details clear.
Nathan gulped. It was the same driver from Earth Red that broke into the Clarks’ house! Or was this guy the Earth Blue version?
He ducked back into the corner and fixed his gaze on the bloodstained box in his hands. The doorknob rattled. Nathan scrunched lower and looked up. The man pressed his face against the window, making his nose look pink and bulbous. With a grunt, he thrust his shoulder against the door, but it wouldn’t budge.
Inching forward in a painful crouch, Nathan held the box in one arm and kept the mirror in front of him with his other hand, allowing him to see the window while staying as low as possible. Suddenly, the butt of a shotgun smashed through the glass, sending a shower of sharp pellets over Nathan’s back. The man stuck his long arm through and stretched for the doorknob, but it was just out of reach of his groping fingers.
When the man pulled his arm back outside, Nathan waited and listened. The mirror continued reflecting reality, nothing that would help him decide what to do. A cold draft descended from the shattered window, carrying with it the man’s low voice, grumbles peppered with obscenities. Seconds later, a clacking noise cut into the sounds.
Nathan cringed. Was he reloading? Would he try to shoot through the door? Nathan eyed the box again. Tony’s words echoed in his mind. Clara sent this to your father. She said it might be his only hope. Taking a deep breath, he nodded. It was now or never. He lunged forward and sprinted down the hall.
“Hey!” the man shouted. “Wait!”
Nathan shivered. Would a shotgun blast follow the killer’s call? Just as he turned the corner toward the stairwell, a blast of pellets smashed the wall, ripping a wide hole at the intersection of the T where the two hallways met. The gun’s echoing boom immediately followed.
Kelly and Francesca rushed from the stairwell. “What was that?” Kelly asked as she grabbed the violin case from the floor.
“Someone shot the guy who delivered this box.” Nathan showed it to her. He couldn’t tell her who the deliveryman was, at least not yet. He needed her to stay calm.
Tucking the box under his arm again, he edged toward the exit corridor, gesturing for the girls to stay close. “As soon as we hear another gunshot,” he whispered, “we’re running for the door to the secure area. No looking back. He’s probably going to shoot out the lock and come after us, but he’ll have to reload before he can shoot again.”
“What if the code’s different?”
“Then get ready for some unexpected ventilation!”
The shotgun boomed. They rushed across the exit hall and scrambled down the additional twenty feet or so of their own corridor.
“I’ll watch the mirror,” Nathan said, holding it up. “You punch in the code.”
Kelly gave Francesca the violin and raised a trembling hand to the keypad. “What were the numbers again?”
“Nine, three, eight, zero.” Bracing the mirror in one hand and pressing the box against his opposite side, he watched the area behind him in the reflection.
She pushed the numbers. “Nothing happened! He’s going to get us!”
“Maybe not. I see two people way down the hall who aren’t really there yet, so the mirror’s working
. And I don’t see the shotgun guy anywhere.”
“What should I try next?”
Nathan looked up at the ceiling, trying to invent a new string with the pattern he had noticed. “How about… seven, five, six, two?”
She pressed through the digits, then balled up her fist and cursed. “I messed up!”
“Try again.” He showed her the mirror. “We still have time. Maybe he didn’t break the lock.”
“I hear footsteps!” Francesca said.
“I don’t see him yet, but the other two guys in the mirror are almost here!”
Francesca pointed down their hallway. “Do you mean them?”
Nathan spun around. Two guards carrying scoped rifles dashed toward them from the far end of the hallway.
Kelly grabbed Nathan’s arm. “They must have heard the gunshots!”
The guards slowed to a trot and aimed their guns. “Put your hands up!” one of them ordered.
“What do we do?”
Nathan spoke in a calm tone. “Just press the buttons.”
Another shotgun blast sounded from the exit hallway. The guards halted just before the intersection and dropped to their haunches.
Nathan clenched a fist. The guards’ timing was perfect! “There’s a guy breaking in!” he yelled. “He has a shotgun! We’ve been trying to get away!”
One of the guards touched the other on the shoulder. “Cover me, Dave!” Lowering his head, he charged toward the exit. The other guard stood and fired round after round toward the door, aiming high enough to miss his partner.
The shotgun sounded again, followed by the clanking racket of a door banging open. The second guard rushed toward the exit.
Nathan kept the mirror in place. “Now, Kelly! Now!”
Two more weapons fired, a rifle and a shotgun.
Kelly flinched. “What were the numbers again?”
A deep voice from the hallway cried, “Dave! Dave!”
“Seven, five, six, two!” The Mustang driver appeared in the mirror, but Nathan dared not tell Kelly.
Another shotgun blast. A man groaned. A single set of foot-steps approached, slow and labored.
Kelly punched in the numbers. The lock buzzed. She flung the door open, and the three bustled through. Nathan jerked it closed and took the violin case from Francesca. “Flatten!” he whispered, pushing the girls down.
Kelly arched facedown over Francesca, bracing her weight on her elbows. Moving quickly, Nathan leaned the mirror and violin against the wall and shoved the box against the floor molding. He huddled over both girls and pushed them sideways against the bottom of the door. “Hold your breath,” he whispered. Inwardly he cringed. If the guy thought they were inside, he could just blast through.
The sound of stomping feet drew nearer, out-of-rhythm footfalls that slowed as they approached. Kelly’s body trembled. Francesca’s fingers dug into Kelly’s arms.
Something slapped against the door. A few seconds later, beeps sounded from the security keypad, but the lock stayed quiet. A deep groan filtered through the wall, then some muttered cursing and more uneven footfalls. Finally, there was silence.
Nathan let out his breath slowly, and the girls did the same. Still on his knees, he straightened his torso and angled his head to get a furtive glance at the window. A bloody handprint smeared the glass.
Picking up the mirror, he rose to his feet and looked out. Nobody was there. He reached a hand to each of the girls. “Coast is clear.”
When they pulled up, Kelly threw her arms around Nathan’s neck and held him close. “I’m sorry I lost my cool,” she whispered.
Her body brought a surge of warmth to his damp skin. “You did great. We made it, didn’t we?” He handed Kelly the mirror and picked up the violin and box.
“What’s in it?” she asked, touching the box’s blood-spattered top.
He looked it over, searching for a way to open it. “We’ll figure it out later. Right now we have to check if my mother’s in the same room where they kept Clara and Francesca prisoner.”
With Nathan leading the way the three marched quickly through the curving hallway. When they reached the door, Nathan paused, looked down the corridor both ways, and rapped lightly. Setting his ear close, he held his breath and listened. No answer.
Kelly put her mouth near the jamb and spoke into the gap. “Mrs. Shepherd? Are you in there?” Still no answer.
Nathan reached for the keypad, punching numbers: eight, four, seven, one. The lock clicked. He jerked the door open, revealing a dark room.
Kelly reached in and swiped her fingers across the wall. Dim lights on the ceiling flickered to life.
Nathan peered inside. The room, about twelve-by-twelve feet, held only a short wooden stool, a green beanbag chair, and a few scattered sheets of paper. On one of the carved stone walls, four chains dangled from rings embedded at points spaced roughly where hands and feet could be locked in place. Obviously this was where his father had been hanging, causing him to send moans of pain across dimensional boundaries and into Kelly’s ears.
While Nathan propped the door with his foot, Kelly walked in and touched one of the shiny chains. “If Mictar wants to kill your parents, why the torture?”
“He wants the secret of Quattro. At least that’s what he said to Mom.” He picked up one of the sheets of paper near the door and read the beautiful script, definitely his mother’s handwriting. Maybe there would be a clue to where they had taken her. “Let’s gather these up and get out of here.”
As he kept watch down the hallway Kelly and Francesca collected the sheets of paper and brought them back to him.
“Here’s a stub of a pencil I found,” Kelly said, holding it in her fingertips. “I’ll bet one of your parents used it.”
Francesca showed him the top page. “This looks a lot like my handwriting. Whoever wrote this puts little swirls on the ends of words just like I do.”
Setting down the box and mirror, he took the rest of the pages and smiled at Francesca. “I guess your writing is a lot like my mom’s.” He thumbed through the pages until he found one with bolder strokes and darker, more hurried letters. “My dad wrote this one.”
“What do they say?” Kelly asked.
He flipped to the next page and shook his head. “It looks like a bunch of rambling nonsense, so I’m guessing it’s all in code. We have to find a safe, quiet place to decipher it.”
“And get that open,” she said, pointing at the box on the floor.
Nathan leaned farther into the hallway but he couldn’t see around the curve. “I think we should stay in the secure area. With that murderer stomping around out there, I don’t think anywhere else is safe.”
Kelly winked at him. “Is there a ladies room in this hall?”
Holding the white box in his lap, Nathan sat on the floor next to Francesca, his back against the cool, tiled wall. Kelly standing with her back to him, held a handful of paper towels under the running faucet until they were moist. After turning and giving them to Francesca, she pulled another towel from the dispenser. “Want to wash your face, Nathan?”
“In a minute.” He gave the box a light shake, but nothing rattled inside. “Maybe I could open it like I did my trunk… you know, look at it in the mirror.”
While dabbing her forehead with a moistened towel, Kelly sat on his other side with the violin case between them.
A low boom thundered from somewhere in the distance.
Kelly flinched. “It seems like we’re just waiting for him to find us.”
“At least the noise lets us know how far away he is.”
“Oh, thanks. Now that’s a comforting thought.” Kelly wadded her towel and tossed it at the wastebasket across the room. It sailed right in and thudded at the bottom. “I wonder if Clara and Daryl got away in our dimension.”
“Yeah, I was just wondering about that, too.” He nodded at the bathroom exit. “We could try to go back, but who knows who might be there? And I don’t want to leave without find
ing my parents.”
Kelly laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t forget. They might not be your real parents. They might be from this dimension.”
“Yeah. I remember.” He drooped his head. Did it matter which dimension they were from? They didn’t look any different or act any different. What would Kelly think if she knew her Earth Blue father just got blasted by a shotgun? Would it make a difference to her? Probably not. No matter how much she didn’t like what he did, she’d be devastated. It wasn’t a good time to tell her. Not yet.
Francesca threw her wadded towel toward the wastebasket, but it hit the side and fell to the floor. She let out a sigh and gazed at Nathan. “When are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she asked. “I figured out some of it, but I’m confused about a lot of things.”
Nathan swiveled his head toward her. “You’re not the only one who’s confused, but if you ask some questions, maybe I can answer them.”
She ran her finger along her tunic’s embroidered hem. “I haven’t said much, because I was too scared, and all this stuff you’re saying about different dimensions makes it worse. Not only that, while I was playing, I saw some things I’ve seen before in my nightmares, but this time I felt like I was really there. I stood next to a huge violin and bow lying on the ground, big enough for a giant, and a normal-sized man walked up and told me I had to play it to live. When I reached for the bow, the ground collapsed. As I fell, the violin and bow fell with me. I caught the bow, and pushed it toward the strings, but just as I played the first note, I was back with you. That’s when I always wake up from the dream.”
She took a deep breath and continued. “Anyway, after listening to everyone talk, I figured out that there are three dimensions. Both of you are from one, I’m from another, and this is the third one.”
“That’s right,” Nathan said. “Very good.”
“But one thing doesn’t make sense. You’re looking for your mother, but you think I’m your mother.”
Nathan slid his hand under hers. When she accepted his grasp, he cleared his throat and spoke slowly. “You’re going to be the mother of my counterpart in your dimension, which happens to be behind mine in the flow of time. This one we’re in now is ahead of mine by five days.”