by Sable Hunter
Journey’s mouth was open. “No, I did not know that. Never been a fan of the space shows.” She looked a bit embarrassed at Lou’s disappointed expression.
“What about the escalator?” Reno asked. “Which, for your information, I will only believe exists when I see it for myself.”
Lou giggled and pointed her finger at Reno. “Actually, a man named Reno, James Reno, invented the escalator, or as he called it ‘moving stairs’, in 1892. So, when we get you home, you can travel to New York to a place called Coney Island and see one of the first ones for yourself.”
He shared a look with Journey. “I don’t want to wait that long. Journey may take me to see one when we go on our first date.”
Journey blushed at the thought as Lou snapped her fingers. “All right. The hikers are gone. Back to business. You two can plan your rendezvous later.”
As they encouraged their horses to move faster, Lou spoke up again, “As I was saying earlier, certain places are considered to be energy hotspots. Science is seriously investigating this possibility. It’s being hypothesized that these areas could produce a hyper-dimensional gateway or a portal, because they have electromagnetic properties. The hold-up, however, is that we don’t know how the portals open. There has been some conjecture that these areas could be found near large deposits of minerals with piezoelectric properties.”
“A pea-zo-what?” Reno asked as they came to the head of the canyon.
“Simple.” Lou smiled as she drew her horse alongside Reno’s. “Piezoelectric is the ability of crystals like granite or quartz to generate an electric charge. The crystals can generate that charge when mechanical stress is applied to them. Journey, the watch Myra gave you runs on a crystal quartz. So, do other things you might not think of – like radios, microprocessors, sonar, ultrasound, computer chips, and electric guitars – to name a few things. A simple way to think about it is if you give a crystal a little squeeze it can produce energy to make things run.”
“Well, I hate to interrupt, but here we are. This is the entrance to the canyon.” Reno pointed to the narrow passageway framed by high, sheer cliffs – all made of the same pink granite.
“Okay.” Lou nodded and raised her eyebrows in anticipation. “Let’s go.”
As they gave the horses their head to move single-file through the canyon, Lou continued to make her point, “In 2012, NASA announced that famed physicist, John Sculler, of the University of Iowa had found hard evidence of portals that were created by the interaction between the magnetism of the Earth and the magnetism of the Sun.”
Reno groaned at this point. “You lost me a long time ago. I’ve been able to keep up to a point, but I don’t even know what NASA means.”
Journey supplied this info. “NASA is the organization that put men on the moon.”
“Right.” Lou chimed in. “The National Aeronautics and Space Administration is a group of scientists and engineers whose main objective is advancing our knowledge and experience in space travel.”
“In my case, there could be no interaction between the earth and the sun, because the sun wasn’t shining when this happened. It was dark.” Reno kept his eyes on the space at the end of the canyon, willing it to open so these two women could see for themselves what he’d seen that night.
“I don’t think the time of day makes a difference. Let me ponder that idea.” Lou didn’t seem discouraged, she just kept thinking aloud. “Returning to my point about Dr. Sculler in 2012, he found evidence of markers that he called x-points at the spot where the portals opened and shut. NASA was able to send up robotic spacecraft to study those particular regions for clues.”
“You mean the portals were out in space?” Reno asked, having trouble connecting this discussion to anything he’d experience.
“That right,” Lou told him. Seeing he wanted to ask something else, she encouraged him. “Go ahead. What else are you thinking?”
“Well, have they ever seen anything go through those portals they discovered?”
Lou sighed. “So far, only electrons have passed through.” She elaborated whether he was curious or not. “And FYI, an electron is a sub-particle of an atom, which is the smallest component of any element. Tiny. Very tiny.”
Reno glanced at Journey, who knew exactly what he wanted to know. “FYI stands for ‘for your information’.
He nodded and went on, “When I read the articles that Journey put on her kindle for me about the bombs we dropped on those Japanese cities, they were called atom bombs. Tiny, yes, but very powerful.”
“Correct. I’m impressed.” Lou looked at him with approval. “I just thought of another point that might answer your question about whether the sun needs to be shining for a portal to open – the aurora borealis. The Northern lights are a direct result of that same disturbance, their haunting beauty is created by the interaction between the Earth and the sun’s magnetic fields.”
“Really?” This seemed to interest Reno a great deal. “Now, you’re making sense. I saw the Northern lights once on a battlefield in Virginia on December 14, 1862.”
“Wow,” Journey marveled. “Virginia is way far south to be able to see the Northern Lights.”
“It happens periodically,” Lou mused. “The geomagnetic activity rises, and the lights can be visible as far south as Missouri or even Tennessee.”
Reno nodded, a faint smile on his face. “I’d always heard about the lights; never thought I’d see them. The Confederates took the strange sight as a sign from God, that he was on our side.” He sighed loudly. “I guess we were wrong.”
“Yea, but it was still a miracle of sorts,” Journey murmured. “If the lights are actually the evidence of a time travel portal – wouldn’t that be something?”
Reno eased his horse closer to the solid wall. “You know, this place glows on some nights. A pale green, golden glow. Ela always said it was the spirits of the mountain.” He locked eyes with Lou. “Maybe the glowing colors are the result of one of those magnetic disturbances you’re talking about. Maybe they’re evidence of a portal.”
“Yea,” Journey pointed high to the massive pink granite mountain next to them. “And Enchanted Rock has to be a source of power, its one big piece of crystal quartz.”
Lou didn’t laugh. Instead, she rubbed her arms. “You two just gave me chills.” She looked to the large wall at the end of the box canyon. “I think you may be onto something.”
* * *
Later, back at the ranch, there was a different spirit to their discussion. Lou was still excited and determined, but now Reno was involved and animated.
Journey didn’t feel quite the same.
Until the moment when Lou brought up the Northern Lights and they began to piece together the puzzle, she’d held out some hope that Reno would never be able to return to the past. Part of her was ashamed of the way she felt, but her heart refused to see reason. So, while Lou and Reno poured over research and scientific articles, she did her best to put on a brave face.
“Tell me, Reno, do you remember how you felt in the seconds leading up to your going through the portal?” Lou asked, sitting on the edge of her seat. “Was there anything strange about the weather?”
Reno gave her question some serious thought. “No, I didn’t notice anything different in the temperature or the cloud patterns. I did feel something around me, though. Something that seemed to worry the air. I could feel an unrest, not really a breeze, but a quavering or a tremor like the vibrations from the rattle of a rattlesnake.”
“That’s good.” Lou considered his observation. “Very good description. I can almost feel it myself.”
Reno rapped his knuckles lightly on the table. “Might I ask a question or two?”
“Most certainly.” Lou looked pleased that he wanted to make some inquiries. “Go right ahead.”
“You said you’ve done research into people who’ve vanished under mysterious circumstances. Can you give me some examples?”
Having finished their ev
ening meal, they were relaxing in the living room. Lou and Reno faced one another in the chairs that sat in the front of the fireplace. Journey was on the couch with both dogs. She felt like an observer instead of an active participant.
Lou settled back in her chair like she couldn’t wait to share her fantastic tales. “I most certainly can. Speaking of those sacred sites constructed on ley lines, there’s a carving of a door in a solid rock face in the Hayu Marca mountain region of Peru. It’s called The Gate of the Gods. The wall of rock is solid and there is no known way to open the door shaped carving. In the center of this immovable door is a depression that makes you think of a socket. Now, legend has it that in the midst of the European invasion, one Incan priest was able to avoid the coming destruction and desolation. His name was Aramu Muru and he served in the Temple of the Seven Rays. To escape his imminent death, he placed a golden disc known as the Key of the Gods into that socket to open the solid door. The old stories say that an unearthly blue light lit up the stone as it transformed into a tunnel. The priest entered the tunnel and the door closed behind him. Aramu Muru walked through the door never to be seen again. It’s said he is now living in the Land of the Gods.” Lou let one or two heartbeats of silence go by before she added. “People who visit Hayu Marca say there are times when they feel an unusual energy, a pulsating energy emanating from the rock.”
“What was the golden disc?” Reno asked with an intense expression on his face.
“No one knows. You weren’t carrying a golden disc when you went through the stone, were you?” Lou asked in a low teasing tone.
“No.” Reno shook his head. “Some gold coins, but no golden disc.”
Journey was listening. Intently. She didn’t even realize she was speaking until the words came tumbling out. “What if there was something like that in Ela’s medicine bag?”
Reno and Lou looked at one another in amazement.
“But how can I know?” he yelled, sitting back hard against the chair.
Neither Lou nor Journey had an answer for him.
In a few moments, Lou started speaking again. “To continue my train of thought, I’ll tell you about the lost Sandringham’s.” Seeing their curious expressions, she smiled. “The British 5th Territorial Battalion of the Royal Norfolk Regiment all came from the same region of England, many of them worked at the vast Sandringham estate or lived in the nearby village. In August of 1915, this battalion marched up a cloud-shrouded hill in the Dardanelle region of Turkey and were never seen again.”
A hushed silence pervaded the room as she recounted tale after tale, incident after incident.
“In 1949, the Chicago police investigated the death of a 50-year old gentlemen who was struck and killed by a train. Witnesses said he was looking up, gawking at the buildings when he walked out on the tracks, completely ignoring the warning signs. In the pockets of his clothing was money that was no longer in circulation.”
“I have money like that. Remember the gold coins I just mentioned?” Reno spoke up in an excited tone.
Lou nodded, noting his comment. “And in his pocket, they found a bill from a livery stable, a letter postmarked in 1872, and a business card bearing the name of Ronald Foster with a Sixth Avenue, New York City address. Upon further investigation they found no current listing existed for a Ronald Foster at the New York address and his fingerprints matched none on file. Even more disconcerting, his apparel appeared to be from the previous century.”
Reno chuckled. “After seeing my apparel, a store clerk asked me if I worked for a movie company.”
“He thought you were in costume,” Lou observed with a smile. “There was also a tag in this man’s hat from a store that had been out of business for decades. Intrigued, the police kept searching until they located an old phone directory with a listing for a Ronald Foster, Jr. After trying to contact him, they discovered that this Mr. Foster, Jr. was a man in his seventies who’d passed some three years earlier. Upon tracking down his wife, who’d moved to Georgia, they learned her husband’s father, the original Ronald Foster, went missing when he took a walk one evening and never returned. When the officer located the missing person’s report from 1872, all of the details corresponded to the man who’d been killed by the train some seventy-seven years later.”
Reno blew out a ragged breath. “These stories are making me feel funny.”
Journey sat up. “Do you want to stop? Do you want to do something else?”
“No.” Reno shook his head. “I just feel like something’s about to happen.”
Lou grinned. “I feel like that too.”
“Tell me more,” Reno urged.
“Okay.”
Journey noticed Lou didn’t need much encouragement. She was happy to oblige.
“A more recent case happened in 2003. An Arnold Carlisle was arrested for SEC violations for making over a hundred high-risk stock trades, each one an unmitigated success. Carlisle turned eight hundred dollars into three-hundred and fifty million, thus drawing the unwanted attention of the SEC. When questioned, he confessed to be a time-traveler from two hundred years in the future. In exchange for his release and permission to return to his craft, Carlisle offered to reveal to officers the cure for AIDS and the location of Osama Bin Laden. When questioned about the location of his craft and how it worked, he refused to cooperate. An unknown individual posted the time traveler’s bail, but when the time came for his scheduled hearing, he was nowhere to be found. There were no records he’d ever existed.”
Reno looked amused. “I wish I could carry back some important information to get rich.”
Lou grinned. “Well, as soon as you get back, buy stock in John Deere, Drexel Morgan, Great North, and Durham Tobacco. Just be sure you get out of the market before the 1929 crash. And leave a note somewhere to your descendants to invest heavily in Apple, Amazon, and Microsoft.”
Journey shook her head. She felt tears pricking her lashes. At the moment, she wasn’t capable of lighthearted banter.
“How did you get interested in all of this, Lou?” Reno asked, truly intrigued.
“The topic first caught my eye when I read a book written by a former police detective. He’d received a tip from a park ranger concerning all of the people who’d vanished in rural areas, particularly state and national parks.”
This revelation caused Reno to sit up a little straighter. “Enchanted Rock is a state park.”
Lou nodded. “Yes, it is, but that’s not the key. Stay with me now.” She held up one finger. “Through-out history, there have been some strange, unexplainable disappearances. When the researchers began making a list of people who’d gone missing in these parks and rural areas, the ones who left no trace and defied explanation, it was discovered this wasn’t a new phenomenon at all. And this isn’t just a handful of people, Reno. Literally thousands fall into this unfortunate category. I’m not talking about people getting lost and falling off a cliff or getting eaten by a bear. I’m also not talking about folks who are depressed and want to hurt themselves or even people who fall victim to a serial killer. No, these cases are inexplicable, and the disappearances go as far back as we have records. They also share some commonalities. First, as we discussed earlier, is their proximity to large quantities of stone, particularly granite and quartz. Second, is the unusual behavior by search and rescue canines. As you two probably know, a dog, especially a bloodhound, can track a person’s scent for a hundred and thirty miles, even after that scent is three hundred hours old.”
“Dang,” Reno expressed his surprise.
“Yes. And in these particular cases when the search and rescue dogs were taken to the last known location of the victim, the animals would not track. They walked in circles or they just laid down. This is not normal behavior for these canines. They live for the opportunity to track and can do so with uncanny skill. Except in these odd situations.”
“So, what you’re saying is that if a bloodhound had been put on my scent when I started down the box can
yon, it would have stopped tracking me where I disappeared.”
“Exactly. Even though you only moved a few feet in physical distance, you moved years ahead through the wormhole.” Seeing him struggle with the concept, she stood up to rest her hand on the mantle. “Let me give you an example that seems very similar to your situation.” In his chair, Reno leaned forward in rapt attention while Lou spoke. “Morgan Heimer was a river rafting guide in the Grand Canyon, a very experienced outdoorsman. On the day in question, he and three other men were hiking in a box canyon near Pumpkin Springs when Morris disappeared. He was last in line, there one minute and gone the next. His companions searched for him but couldn’t explain how he could vanish. The canyon walls were sheer and steep on either side of the defined trail. There was essentially nowhere for him to go.”
“He went through a portal,” Reno stated in wonder.
“I believe he did, yes.” She grew quiet, thinking, then lifted her head to give Reno a smile. “You know, I think we can build a good case to say that what’s happened to you has happened to others, and we may very well be able to find a scientific explanation for it all.”
Journey’s nerves wouldn’t let her be still. She’d had all she could take for one night. Rising, she gave them a courteous nod. “I’m very tired. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go to bed.”
Reno rose a moment later. “Journey’s right. It’s late and we need our rest.” He clapped his hands together as if finalizing a point. “I have to tell you, Miss Evans, that I’m feeling more positive about my situation than I ever thought I could feel. I have high hopes that you’ll find a way to get me home.”
Lou beamed with his praise. “My official position at this point is one of cautious optimism.”