“Funny. He’s in a different bed. In his room. You knew what I meant.”
“Is he feeling any better?”
“I think so. But he still doesn’t seem himself.”
“Okay. I’ve made a 10:00 appointment for tomorrow. You’ll need to catch the 9:15 bus.” She gave him the Doctor’s address and explained the bus route. “Make sure he goes. He can be stubborn.”
“Don’t worry.” He swallowed. “I got this.”
“Anything else I need to know?”
He thought about Dad’s phone call. “No. We’re good.”
They said goodbye. Her picture disappeared as the connection terminated. He thought he’d unwind by playing War Banshee on his cell. Play well, or die! Before he pressed the colorful app of a busty female gargoyle with a bloody spear, he checked his Facebook account.
He accepted Trudy’s friend request and surfed her photos. She resembled her cousin, Lori, a little. Newer photos appeared from last night’s party and included one of him holding Trudy, kissing Trudy, and drinking from a red plastic cup. Another showed Trudy wearing Jack’s jersey. Triple shit.
He hoped his parents and his coach never saw these pictures. They’d be pissed and he might get kicked off the team. Groaning, he fell back onto the pillow. He missed Jack’s advice more than ever.
Checking Trudy’s photos once more, he felt anxious, embarrassed, and a little horny. He didn’t remember much about Saturday night, but he’d clearly lost control. What do I do now?
Chapter 8
A creaking noise woke Ben in the middle of the night and sounded as if someone had stepped on the floorboards in his room. Ben held his breath and waited, but he saw no one in the almost dark. No one except the memory of Jack who had scared him in this very room years ago.
Wind buffeted GranPat’s house and the walls answered with creaks and groans in a language only the old might understand. He shut his eyes, relaxed, and dreamt for what seemed a moment, but woke to the sound of chittering birds outside the window. The morning had come too soon.
Yawning, Ben sat up in bed and remembered his mission. He’d promised his mother to accompany GranPat to the doctor, and he feared to disappoint. They needed to catch the 9:15 bus. Ben snagged his cellphone from the nightstand. 8:41.
He rolled out of bed, got dressed, and glanced into the bathroom mirror. His hair stuck straight up as if he’d been electrocuted – a look Jack had called the ‘morning Mohawk.’ Ben mashed down his hair with water, dried his forehead, and hurried to check on GranPat.
GranPat’s bedroom door stood open, but the large wooden bed was empty and unmade. A gray pillow lay like a fallen tombstone on the beige carpet. Ben raced down stairs, but GranPat wasn’t on the first floor. At 8:50, they had could still make the bus if they hurried down the driveway and two blocks to the bus stop.
Ben jogged into the kitchen, opened the patio door, and glanced outside. No sign of him. Back inside, he scanned the kitchen for clues and found the cellar door cracked open an inch. Ah. The lab.
In his experience, the cellar door had always been locked and off-limits. Ben’s visits to GranPat’s lab, though rare, always sparked his imagination. He’d wondered about his grandfather’s perpetual caution and secrecy, but marveled at his devotion to science.
A memory of a late night television scene flashed through his mind. Jack had sat near him in the dark. Lightning arced through air over a recumbent body chained to a table. Jack had been quiet, until he jumped up and screamed, “It’s ALIVE!” Ben had almost peed himself.
Ben opened the cellar door wider and saw flashing white and yellow lights below. As he walked down the stairs, he observed a large metal table covered with computers, blinking silver boxes, thick yellow and blue wires, and radio equipment with dials and tiny red lights. A low hum came from a small satellite dish near an ice covered metal canister the size of a barbecue propane tank.
Halfway down Ben stopped. GranPat stood in the center of the room, his back to Ben, and left arm raised. He wore blue pajama bottoms and no top. Ben winced at the flabby body and wondered what had happened to GranPat’s muscles.
Descending three more steps, Ben saw GranPat focused on the far wall. A flat shimmering circle resembling television snow, hung in the air and expanded outward until it was five feet in diameter. Ben frowned as the white snow sharpened into a clear view of another cellar beyond, one much darker and empty.
Ben’s eyes focused on the strange opening as he walked down the remaining steps. Where is that other place? On the last step, his foot bumped an old coffee can full of pens and pencils and sent them clattering across the floor. He lost his balance, fell, and scraped his hands on the concrete.
While on the floor, he glanced back at the wall. The opening had disappeared. He brushed his bloody hand across his pants. “What were you doing? It looked like, like—”
GranPat stood over him with his arms crossed. The tattoo on his right wrist consisted of little green bars of varying widths similar to a product barcode. He held a large wristwatch in his left hand.
“Forget what you think you saw, stumble-billy. It’s none of your business.” GranPat’s eyes narrowed and his face grew flushed. “You shouldn’t be down here!”
Ben got to his feet. “I j-j-just came down to remind you about your doctor’s appointment. We need to—”
“I do-not-need a doctor. I’m fine.” GranPat helped Ben up from the floor. “Your conclusions are based on a false assumption. We can discuss that later.”
“GranPat, you need to get dressed. If we leave in five minutes, we can still catch the bus.” Ben’s face grew hot and his skin prickled. “I’m trying to help you!”
“Forget the doctor. I’m busy and need to be left alone for a few more hours.” GranPat pointed toward the stairs. “Understand?”
Ben took a step back. His grandfather had never behaved like this before.
GranPat glanced at Ben’s bloody hands and sighed. “Go back upstairs and wash those cuts, and find something we can eat for breakfast.” GranPat put his hand on his Ben’s shoulder and nudged him toward the stairs.
Ben didn’t budge. “No. Mom said, you need to see the doctor. You’ve been forgetful and need help. Chrissakes, you forgot what fireflies were. Please.” Ben held out his hand.
GranPat spread his hands wide and tried to smile. “I’m just getting old. I can’t remember everything.”
Ben pointed at the wall and the equipment. “You’ve cooked up some kinda crazy down here. Maybe you got a tumor from exposure to radiation or electro-magnetic waves, or—”
“No. No. It’s nothing serious.” He shook his head.
“Nothing serious?” Ben’s eyes began to water. “Yesterday you thought Jack was still alive. How could you forget something like that?” His voiced cracked.
GranPat’s shoulders sagged. “You’re right. I would never have forgotten that.”
“But you did.”
“No. Actually, I didn’t.” GranPat’s eyes looked hard for a moment, then softened.
Ben’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t understand.”
GranPat rolled his eyes. “I’ll try to explain. When you first came down the steps, what did you see?”
“I saw like some kind of . . . magic window, or doorway, to somewhere else. It was incredible.” Ben’s mood lightened. “How’d you do that?”
GranPat gestured toward the now solid wall. “I opened a doorway into another world with this portal watch, using a frequency from the transceiver on that table.”
Ben studied the blinking machinery. “A door to where?”
“Right into the basement of Doctor Albert Dugan’s home.”
“Who’s Albert Dugan?”
“I am.” GranPat smiled like a madman. “I’m from a world called Terra.” He waited a moment. “I’m not your GranPat.”
Ben’s eyes flared. He’s worse than I thought. “You’re acting like Jekyll and Hyde and scaring the shit out of me!” Ben took a slow step back
and heard a pencil snap under his foot.
“No, Ben. I’m just Albert. Patrick and I are two different people. Your GranPat accidently contacted me when he used this subatomic communication device.” Albert pointed at the equipment on the table. “He calls it his ‘beacon’.”
Ben’s stomach cramped. “I don’t believe you!” His eyes strained as he stared at the old man. “GranPat, if you’re in there . . . I need to talk to you.”
“I’m not sure where your GranPat is, but I guarantee, he’s not in here.” He poked his finger against his forehead and laughed. “Look.” He gestured at the three computers linked on the table. “Has he ever told you about this project?’’
“No. Not directly, but I heard he was trying to speak with Grandma Betty.” Ben had hoped it might work. If GranPat could contact the dead, then I could talk to my—
“He tried, but he didn’t break the veil of death.” Albert lowered his head. “He found me instead.”
Ben wanted to believe. He’d seen the open portal. If it was true, then GranPat wasn’t senile, or crazy. “Tell me more.”
Albert began to pace. “I’d been working on a teleportation device in my basement on Terra. I attempted to teleport a silver dollar three feet sideways, but I couldn’t break through. Nothing happened, until I received a signal from Patrick’s beacon and the coin disappeared.”
“Where did it go?”
“We still don’t know. At first Patrick and I sent electronic messages to each other. Later, we modified radio equipment and frequency for voice. We spoke about ourselves, our different worlds, and our individual projects. We modified our signals and connected our worlds with an open doorway from his basement to mine. Do you understand?” Albert smiled. “It may be the most significant scientific discovery in the history of man!”
Ben’s stomach calmed down. “Okay. Let’s assume that’s all true.” Ben furrowed his eyebrows. “Why do you look so much like my grandfather?”
“Good question.” Albert said. “He and I are similar in many ways, but we’re two different people. Have you heard the term ‘doppelganger’?”
“Yes. People who look like twins, but they’re not related.”
“Exactly. I came to Earth through a portal yesterday morning to find Patrick, and ask for his help. I’m Patrick’s doppelganger, but technically I’m an alternate version in a similar reality from a parallel universe.” Albert smiled. “Wrap your head around that. We have many things in common. We were both boy scouts, became scientists, and married women named Betsy.”
“GranPat married Betty,” Ben said.
“Close enough. You see, Terra is harmonically linked to your Earth. Similarities in culture, evolution and development, are potentially as close as 95-98%. Dissimilarities may have been the result of minor variations of key political leaders, scientific and medical discoveries, disease and pest outbreaks, use of natural resources, climatic flux, war and alliances, or chance. The complimentary nature of combining Terran technology with Earth’s allowed Patrick and me to fast track our projects.”
Ben frowned. If he saw them standing side by side it would help. “So . . . where is GranPat?”
“I don’t know. He wasn’t here when I came through the portal, so I went to Carlston to see if he’d visited your family.” Albert studied him. “Look. I’m sorry about Jack. I just didn’t know. Things are a little bit different on Terra than Earth. For one, we don’t have fireflies. The worlds are very similar, but not exact duplicates.”
“But why were you surprised to see me? Do I look different on Terra?” Ben felt warm and the abrasions on his hands throbbed.
Albert cleared his throat. “Let’s both go upstairs. I need a shower. You need to wash those hands. We can scrape something together for breakfast, and I’ll tell you more about Terra.”
Once back upstairs in the kitchen, Ben checked the time. 9:14. They had missed the bus, but he could call a cab. If he took Albert to the doctor, then he would have kept his promise to his mother. No. As crazy as it seemed, he believed this man. Albert’s presence explained the differences he’d seen with Albert’s physique, tattoo, and memory. More importantly, he’d seen the shimmering portal and the dark room beyond.
Ben scrubbed his hands in the kitchen sink. T-rex roared on his phone. Mom. He let it go to voicemail, waited a minute, and then listened. “Hey, Ben. Just checking to see if you and GranPat are on your way to the doctor’s. Have a good day and text me when you’re done. Thanks.” He didn’t return the call. What could he say?
Albert came downstairs wearing GranPat’s favorite blue Hawaiian shirt, the one he saved for family picnics. The buttons were straining. “Did you clean those hands?”
“Yes. Doctor Dugan.” Ben wasn’t sure what to call him, or if he should blindly trust this man who had pretended to be his grandfather. Where had GranPat gone? “I found a first aid kit in the kitchen closet.” He held out his palms.
Albert checked the bandages and nodded. “Call me ‘Albert’. Do you like pancakes?”
“Yes.”
“I found pancake mix, but not much else in the fridge. Do you drink coffee or tea?”
“Water’s fine.”
“Okay.” Albert rummaged through several kitchen drawers until he found a half-gallon sized green plastic bowl. He examined the bowl with a tilt of his head and handed it to Ben. “There may be a patch of black raspberries all the way toward the back of the property. Or not. My berries are ripe on Terra. Consider this an experiment in multiverse duality. Pick the black ones if you find any at all.”
“Wait. After breakfast, will you help me find GranPat?”
“Absolutely. We’ll find him together.” Albert smiled.
“Thanks.” Ben took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Once outside, he crossed the open field and found the patch loaded with ripe berries. He filled the plastic bowl quickly. The dark juice stained his fingers purple.
He pulled out his phone and called GranPat’s cell, but it jumped straight to voicemail. “GranPat where are you? I need to talk to you about Albert. Call me back as soon as you can.” Calling his parents might get both Albert and him sent to an asylum. He would just have to ride this out and find GranPat.
Ben squinted in the bright morning sun. Halfway back to the house, a black and white cat jumped out of the woods thirty yards away to his left. The cat moved as if spooked.
As Ben walked toward the house, he saw a man moving in the nearby woods . . . no, three men. They drew closer to the open field, but tried to hide behind trees. What’s this about?
He pretended not to have seen them and quickened his gait. Crossing the deck, he opened the back door, hurried inside, and locked the door. Two men wearing dark camouflage jackets and carrying automatic rifles crept out of the woods and toward the house. A third man in a suit followed.
“I see you found the berries,” Albert said.
“Men with guns are coming this way!” Ben’s face flushed.
“Damn.” Albert set down a stack of pancakes, rushed to the window, and glanced outside. “Could be CSD. We need to leave now. Run down to the lab. Quickly!”
Ben ran to the cellar door. “CSD?”
Albert followed. “Commonwealth Security Division within the United American Commonwealth, or UAC, on Terra. They want to stop me. CSD would kill for my portal watch, and I’m not exaggerating.”
Ben’s hands shook as he ran down the stairs carrying the plastic bowl of berries.
Albert bolted the cellar door from the inside and descended the stairway. He stepped gingerly over the pencil strewn concrete floor to the computers and silver metal boxes and touched the ‘enter’ button. “The beacon is ready and the frequency is locked. We need to hurry!”
As the silver boxes blinked and whirred, the small round tank on the floor frosted over in seconds. The crash of breaking glass filtered down from the kitchen. Someone rattled the outside metal bulkhead door to their left, but the locked door held.
&nbs
p; Albert removed his watch and adjusted the dials. The air shimmered with TV snow and the portal opened and expanded. Albert’s empty basement appeared once again through the magic door.
The CSD bashed against the locked wooden door atop the cellar stairs.
The portal widened to the size of a refrigerator door. Albert moved beside Ben. His fingers held a button on the side of the portal watch. “Go. Now!”
He glanced at Albert and his chest felt tight. This didn’t seem right, or real, but more like some bullshit nightmare. Wake up! Shit. Still here.
Albert grew livid. “Go. They’re going to kill us!”
Ben held his breath and jumped through the hole in the wall. His ears popped similar to a pressure change on an airplane.
Through the portal, Ben heard the wooden door at the top of the stairs crash open. Men shouted as they descended the stairs, but the sounds were muted as if they came through a long tunnel.
Ben stood five feet away from the portal, waiting for Albert to jump through and join him. Instead, the shimmering portal shrunk and appeared too small for Albert to cross.
The first CSD agent slipped on the scattered pencils and fell on the floor. Two more armed men approached Albert.
“Ben, Catch,” Albert called from seven feet away and tossed the watch underhanded through the shrinking portal. A bald agent wearing a suit, who looked like Dad’s angry customer back home, knocked Albert over the head with his gun. As Albert fell, the CSD agent leveled his weapon at Ben. The watch arced through the portal, and Ben dove forward, catching the device in the bowl of berries like a catcher’s mitt.
Bullets zipped over Ben’s head and hit the wall behind him. The room fell into blackness as the portal disappeared. Albert, either dead or captured, couldn’t help him. Alone and in the dark, Ben lay stranded on Terra.
Chapter 9
Ben pushed himself up from Albert’s basement floor on shaky legs. A solid wall stood where the portal had been. Albert had purposefully closed the portal without trying to escape Earth. Why?
As Ben’s heart rate slowed toward normal, his elbows throbbed with pain. He’d smashed them on the concrete floor when he dove for the portal watch. Could he have done more? Everything had happened so fast.
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