Quantum Touch (Book 2): Sand Storm

by Michael R. Stern

  “That's why I'm ambivalent about the portal, Lin. On the one hand, it's been disruptive. On the other, I think it's done a great deal of good. But one thing is certain; it's keeping me from preparing new class material. I need a day off.”

  When they got home, Linda went up to the bedroom. Fritz and Ashley sat in the kitchen. Fritz poured sodas.

  “Got anything to eat? I didn't eat dinner,” said Ashley.

  “I forgot. None of us did. I guess we'll have the chicken tomorrow. There's some ham, turkey, and cheese slices in the fridge. I'll go ask Lin if she wants anything.”

  “Do you want a sandwich?”

  “Yeah. I'll be right back.”

  When Fritz returned, he told Ashley that Linda wanted one, too. He took her the first one, and Ashley made another, which Fritz found when he returned.

  “Thanks, Ash. Lin said to say good night. She's really tired, and she's been on her feet most of the night.” He bit into the sandwich. “How's Jane?”

  “She got shot in her left arm, near the shoulder, the only bullet that did any damage. The Kevlar stopped half a dozen others. But she got knocked against a wall and smacked her head. Big lump there. The stitches opened, the dress absorbed most of the blood, but it ran down her legs and into her hair. Just a bloody mess. Before they patched her up, she used my phone to call the airport and get them all rolling. They had to knock her out to get her to stop. And I guess she'll need to buy a new dress.”

  “Ash, this portal is turning into a nightmare.”

  “It's had its benefits.”

  Fritz noted Ashley's grin. Not a smirk, not a smile. Almost thankful, but very different. His eyes, happy, not mischievous. Fritz chose not to ask him, at least not then. “I could handle it if a new crisis didn't pop up every day. I hope this is it for a while. But somehow, I feel like it's the president's portal. I haven't had a good night's sleep since spring.”

  “It's good practice. Pretty soon, you won't be getting any. This will just make diapers and middle-of-the-night feedings seem easy. I know I told you not to use it, but Fritz, I think it could be more important than either of us contemplated. But keeping it secret is going to be really hard.”

  “Something weird happened tonight. You saw. With the door open, we couldn't see in. When Jane crawled in, all we could see were her legs. But we could see the Oval Office when the president left. I wonder why.”

  Ashley looked at the ceiling. “Just guessing. When the soldiers were in the portal, we had two entry points. Maybe that's it. Like Naria.”

  “When the settlers were coming out, we could see inside between flashes. When they left, their exit lulled, like stopping to hug the prime minister, it was black again. Maybe feet crossing the threshold has something to do with it.”

  “I wonder how many people are having this conversation now.”

  Fritz ignored Ash's wisecrack. “This is serious, Ash, and now it's international. I hope the Israelis don't want to use it, too.”

  “We'll find out more tomorrow, I think,” said Ashley. “I wonder if the president will even get to sleep tonight. I'm not sure I will.”

  “I will. I'm fading now. Let's eat, and you can go home.”

  “Here's your hat, what's your hurry?” Ashley asked and took a bite. “You and Linda need to talk. She's worried—the baby, her job, school, and especially your adventures. Or should we say what she's afraid of is misadventures. Her fears are not unreasonable. I should never have said a thing about where we'd come from when we were in Paris.”

  “I know. I don't want to upset her, but I'm anxious too. Besides I like visiting Lee. Maybe I am being irresponsible. We don't know if our travels change history and even if they do, maybe it's for the better. Though I suppose we might cause ourselves never to be born. Still, our trip to Paris was, well, fun. Don't you think?”

  “Of course I do. I'll write this off to your last burst of immaturity before you become a steadfast father. But if Linda divorces you, I have first dibs. She won't have to worry about me. When my classroom door opens, it's only for educational activities.”

  “Go home.”

  * * *

  “WHAT?” THE MAN ASKED. Still at his desk, he listened to the report. “What do you mean, only bodies? How could there be no one in the building?”

  * * *

  FRITZ AND ASHLEY struggled through Thursday's classes. Fritz yawned all day, but he had updated his lessons enough to get through. Overnight, a fall nor'easter had met with a slow-moving weather system coming from Indiana. The perfect storm filled the day with constant thunder and lightning. Some teachers commented that years had passed since they had weathered such an awful storm. Awful? I love this weather. By the end of the day, Fritz had already placed the paperclip. He followed the ninth graders out and waited for the hall to clear. Ashley stood in the hallway, watching.

  Fritz waved to Ashley to join him. “Want to go see Lee?”

  “Haven't you had enough this week?”

  “Does that mean you don't want to come?”

  “Of course I do. But what are you going to say to him?”

  “Don't know, but something will come to me.”

  Fritz tapped the doorknob. He grinned, pulled the door open, and Fritz and Ashley crossed the threshold into Robert E. Lee's office. The general looked up, and with a welcoming voice, said, “Mr. Russell, Mr. Gilbert, how nice to see you again. Please sit down.”

  “Thank you, General.”

  “Mr. Russell, I have a question. Are we changing history?”

  Sneak Peek

  SHADOW STORM,

  Book three of the Quantum Touch series.

  Chapter 1

  “ARE THEY CLEAR?” With elbows resting on the hand-tooled leather surface of his mahogany desk in a room the size of most houses, the man listened through the crackling. “American troops? Inside? How do you know?” He absorbed the answer and glanced at the colorful Chinese wood panels and his eclectic collection of antiques. “If they weren't close, how could they know they were Americans?” He was growing red. “The Eledorians are still denying involvement. That will work.” He tapped his fingers hard enough to imprint the leather desk pad. “Get them out.”

  For a moment, he contemplated the importance of his next call. “There were American troops. I don't know where they came from. A few of our men were killed. We didn't change anything.”

  “Nonsense. Don't worry about the dead. We don't have to pay them. We achieved our purpose. We have their attention. The Eledorians deny involvement. The Narians are impotent. Everyone points fingers. And the Americans don't know which way to turn. We have them all where we want them. Now watch the stock market.”

  “We don't need the money.”

  “You wanted, no, insisted, we do this from the inside, so we need the money. We still don't own enough candidates, and the elections are going to be expensive. We have to be ready. We don't want more of the same. We need the money. Unless, of course, you want to spend your own.”

  There was no response. The man in the elegant office knew he could indeed spend his own, he had plenty, but why should he when a little manipulation added still more. “Of course not,” he finally said. “But he'll be gone in a year and half. Why be so blatant?”

  “Because uncertainty breeds fear. Fear wins elections, and even better, scared people don't want more of what made them afraid. Your grandfather taught you that many years ago.”

  “Then we move to the next … performance.”

  THE PRESIDENT sat at his desk in the Oval Office, watching the cable news coverage from Naria. The Secretary of Defense and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs sat on the couches. Reporters had been allowed into Naria early in the day and had been interviewing people throughout the capital. The reporter said the general response had been overwhelming happiness and relief that their government had come to its senses. One of the reporters had managed to catch a senior official who said only that the Narians expected an equal response from the West. “End the sanc
tions.”

  “We're not going to rush on that score,” said the president. “I've had no contact from the leader and there have been no feelers from any of his partners.” He looked exhausted. His quick trip to Riverboro High School the previous night had not led to a good night's sleep. He'd had to work as soon as he returned to Washington. The portal had performed as hoped, but he had to keep it under wraps.

  The secretary said, “Mr. President, I think you know that Mr. Russell and his people are not likely to disclose what happened, but can we trust the Israelis to be quiet?”

  “I had a long talk with the prime minister, Charlie. His biggest threat is gone. He rescued his people. You saw the reports. All wrong, but he gets the credit. I don't think he wants to make me angry. At least not for now.”

  General Beech said, “Colonel Mitchell is writing an after-action report, but he told me he has questions about what really happened. 'Misgivings,' he said. He doesn't think the Eledorians were real soldiers, at least not Eledorian soldiers.”

  The president frowned. “Get me a copy of the report, please, General.”

  “Yes, sir. You should know his report complimented Mr. Russell, Mr. Gilbert, and the rest. The colonel said he wouldn't hesitate to work with them again.”

  “I'm glad. They're good people. I like them a lot. I hope we don't need them again too soon.” He remembered the first time Fritz walked in on him and told the assembled group the story of that first portal visit and his own adventure going back to New Jersey that afternoon. An image of Robert E. Lee ran through his head. “I'll call him later.”

  FRITZ RUSSELL packed his briefcase with a weekend's worth of work and headed for the parking lot. Ashley Gilbert was waiting for him. “The president hasn't called.”

  “Given what happens when he does, I'd think you'd be delighted.”

  “Well, yeah. I do hope he'll give us this weekend off. I have a lot of grading to do. You want to come for dinner?”

  “Yeah, that would be great. Really. I've been eating sandwiches all week. But I expect better food this weekend. I'm going to DC tomorrow and Sunday.”

  “Sightseeing?”

  “You might call it that. I've been told that Washington has some exceptional landmarks.” Ashley grinned.

  They ate dinner early, and Ashley didn't hang around. Fritz and Linda were sitting on the sofa watching the news, when Linda said, “Wow! That kick. Like a field goal. Here, feel.” She placed his hand on her growing belly.

  “Nope, I think it's a soccer game.”

  THAT EVENING, the president worked late. Colonel Mitchell's conclusion that the soldiers weren't really the Eledorian army troubled him. He jotted notes on a pad that rested on his leg and watched the purple sunset cast shadows across the South Lawn. He wanted more intelligence.

  Earlier, he had consulted with the leaders of England, France, Germany, Russia, and Turkey about the Narian announcement but said nothing about what had really happened. He had then spoken to the Israeli Prime Minister about an upcoming summit. Before the conversation ended, the prime minister asked if he could offer an appropriate reward for “the people from the school.”

  SLEEPING IN on Saturday wasn't in the cards. When Linda came to the kitchen, Fritz's papers, laptop, and a cup of coffee occupied the table. A website on the age of exploration stared at her when she kissed him.

  “Are you including yourself in the lesson?” she asked.

  “Hi, Ash. When did you get here? Hmm. You look like Linda.” He stood and kissed her. “How do you feel?”

  “I'm okay. Glad I didn't get up early. I spent too much time on my feet this week.” He poured her a cup of coffee. They talked about Naria and how the people interviewed in the street were smiling. Linda told him about a woman who had said she was happy because she didn't have to worry about being bombed.

  “It's kind of quiet without Ashley having popped in by now,” she said. “He's smitten. But she's going to be a problem for him.”

  “He'll figure it out. It's a nearby trip, as commuting relationships go, but still, I'll bet he's single again by Christmas. She's just so different from all the other women he's dated. She's either brave as hell or just plain crazy. Do you want breakfast?”

  THE SUNROOM, with books lining shelves from floor to ceiling, was probably not the best place for Fritz to work. Its windows tempted him to daydream. But the quiet snapped when a phone call dragged his eyes back from the outdoors.

  “Hi. What's up?”

  The president laughed. “I guess you're getting used to my calling. Hi, Fritz. I haven't bothered you so you could get some downtime. The prime minister asked me to convey his appreciation. Right now, I'm outside Bethesda Naval Hospital. I came to see how Jane's doing, and it seems she has company. I just left.” His smile seeped through the phone.

  “Ashley, I expect.”

  “Yeah. I think I may have created a monster. Mr. Gilbert's apparently been here since first thing this morning. Her doctor said that he sweet-talked his way past everyone.”

  “That figures. How is she?”

  “Going home this afternoon. She's still weak and in a lot of pain, but I think she'll have an attentive nurse. He might make her take it easy. Fritz, I've known her for quite a while now, and Ashley has changed her. She smiles more.”

  “We've known him forever. I've seen him with lots of women, but last weekend, wow. I'll tell you this. He surprised me when he went to rescue her, not knowing if there was live fire.”

  “Pretty gutsy, I agree. I'm beginning to think your visit to the Oval Office is proving to be really lucky. Not just because of the good the portal has made possible, but for the people I've seen do extraordinary things.” Fritz grinned at a compliment he had never expected.

  “Thanks. Is there something I can do for you, Mr. President?”

  “Fritz, on a personal basis, I can't thank you enough. But I keep forgetting to tell you. The prime minister wants to reward you all. Maybe an all-expenses trip. And in your mail next week, you'll find more tangible thanks. I intended to tell you yesterday, but we had some distractions. Once things settle down, maybe we can get together for dinner.”

  “Mr. President, thank you. But do me a favor. Stay out of trouble for a few weeks. Let me get back to teaching. Linda could do without the extra stress too, and we need to set up a nursery. Pretty mundane after this week, but kind of important, you know.”

  “I'll talk to you soon. If you need anything, give me a call.”

  “Okay, thanks. Say hi to the First Lady.”

  A Last Request

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you have enjoyed this book. My goal is to entertain you with my stories. If you wouldn't mind, I have a request. Please leave a review on AMAZON, GOODREADS or any social media site you choose. Be honest. If you liked it, say so. If not, say that too. Your comments will make me write a better story next time.

  All writers want to know that their effort is worthwhile. We all endeavor to find new ways to entertain, inform and educate. Only our readers can tell us if we have succeeded. All writers will thank you. Certainly, I will and I do.

  Michael R. Stern

  sternmike52@gmail.com

  @sternmike52

  https://www.facebook.com/cabinfevercommunications