Anyway, Mark started compounding one side of the car and Blackie started on the other side. Not wanting to disappoint his older brother he worked like a banshee on holiday at a battlefield. He scrubbed that paint until his arm hurt, and he was progressing on his side of the car much faster than Mark was on the other side. Since Mark didn’t tell him exactly how long or hard he should rub the buffing compound, and Blackie thought the intent was to remove all the grime, he didn’t pay much attention to the fact that he was also removing most of the blue paint; it seemed really grimy to his.
The important thing to remember here, if you are going to take sides in this matter, is that all the grime on Blackie’s side of the car was in fact, completely removed. As for the blue metallic paint Mark had intended to restore to its previous luster and shine (a decision he made before he asked Blackie to help) that is what the military refers to as collateral damage.
After Blackie de-grimed his side of the car, Mark decided to just have the whole thing repainted. I won’t tell you the words of joy he yelled when he took a break from compounding his side of the car to inspect Blackie’s side, but I’m sure he meant them in the kindest way swearing at the top of his lungs could be meant.
To help prevent Mark from murdering his brother, in his sleep (they shared a bedroom and it would have been oh-so easy) their Dad told Mark he would have the Chevy painted as a present for his birthday. Blackie thought Dad’s analysis of the situation went something like this, “the paint job is less expensive than a funeral.” So, it worked out well for everyone and by Blackie’s way of thinking, he exited that chapter of their lives a hero.
He’s sure Mark would describe it otherwise. But Blackie is sure that history will reflect that his efforts resulted in Mark’s 1958 Chevy getting a new, free paint job – free as in Mark didn’t have to pay for it. You can’t argue with history, unless of course it’s been rewritten to reflect a slanted version of what happened. Blackie was pretty sure who the hero was. You’ll have to come to your own conclusion.
Wayne parked his car and jumped out. It didn’t matter how Wayne dressed or what he said, Wayne was always cool. If you didn’t know him you would think, I’ll bet he plays the bass, and you would have been right; but no, you’re not psychic, everyone thinks that about Wayne. He shut the door to the Nomad and ambled over to where Mark was just finishing tightening the bolts on the transmission brackets.
“What do you want to do?” asked Wayne.
“It’s got gas in it,” said Mark from underneath the car, “let’s push it down the hill and when it’s rolling good, I’ll jump in, put it in gear, and dump the clutch.” Surprisingly Mark included Blackie, although he was sure making his sweat profusely was Mark’s sole intention. They pushed that car up and down the road for over forty minutes with not even a hint that it might start. Mark checked under the hood so many times Blackie suggested he take it off. You can’t imagine the glare he got. Wayne thought it was funny, although several times Blackie thought he caught him looking longingly at his Nomad parked in Mark’s backyard.
“What the blazes is wrong with this thing?” yelled Mark.
“You’re sure it has gas?” said Wayne, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. Wayne rarely perspired.
“I put ten gallons in it yesterday,” said Mark, “the stupid thing ought to start.”
Once again, they opened the hood and checked lots of stuff. Mark even took off the top of a plastic round thing with wires in it. Blackie learned later from an ill-tempered flurry of words it was the distributor cap.
“Mark, I think…” Blackie began.
“Not now, Blackie,” barked Mark immediately.
“What about the plug wires?” asked Wayne and they set about checking all the wiring to make sure they were properly connected. Blackie watched and stayed out of the way. Besides, he didn’t know what the wires were for anyway.
“Mark, I think…” he began again.
“Not now,” said Mark who was taking the distributor cap off for a third time to inspect the little rotating thingy in the middle. “This is on right, isn’t it?” he said to Wayne, who replied, “Rotors only go on one way.”
Blackie started again, “Mark, I think…”
“What? What do you want?” said Mark loudly, exasperated over the fact that his car would not start and Blackie wouldn’t quit distracting him.
“Isn’t there supposed to be a shiny little metal cylinder-shaped thing in there?” he offered, pointing in the general direction of the engine.
“What?” said Mark.
“There, there inside that round plastic thing you just opened,” he said.
“You mean the distributor?” asked Mark.
“Yeah, that round thing. Isn’t there supposed to be a shiny cylindrical metal thing in there?”
“Dang,” said Wayne, “he’s right, the condenser is missing.” Mark ran to 'the shop' (while Wayne explained to Blackie what the missing part was for), found the condenser he had removed when he was cleaning the distributor cap, and ran back to the Chevy where Wayne and Blackie were waiting. He wasn’t even out of breath; all that basketball training must have been working.
Sometimes Blackie wondered if Wayne knew that part was missing all along and was just gassing up Mark during all the pushing and grunting. Anyway, they pushed the Chevy down the hill one more time and the sweet smell of inefficiently burned gasoline filled the air. There wasn’t anything wrong with the engine, all the cars smelled like that back in 1967 – gasoline was cheap and no one had noticed the polar ice caps had begun to melt, again.
“What do you want to do now?” asked Wayne.
“Jump in and we’ll run down to Bud’s Food Emporium and get a soft drink.” Much to Blackie’s surprise Mark reached over and leaned the front passenger seat forward. This was a clear and distinct invitation for him to accompany them, because there is no way Mark would have asked Wayne to sit in the back seat. Isn’t it amazing the difference one little metal cylinder makes? thought Blackie, who once again was trying to remember what is a shiny metal cylindrical thing was.
They each got a drink; Mark paid, and they went back to their house to practice. Mark, Wayne and Blackie were in a band along with Buster the lead singer. Buster wasn’t there but they practiced their music anyway. “We’ll be totally ready for our gig at The Getaway Bar and Grill,” said Mark.
“Yeah, and who knows what that might lead to?” responded Wayne.
In retrospect, it wasn’t surprising to Blackie that Wayne made that insightful statement, after all, he is a bass player. Who knew indeed?
CHAPTER ONE
TOUCHDOWN
Blackie had started keeping a diary after Prenetian explained to the group they had been swept up in a mixing zone and ended up on Alphus Nebulum — a planet in a different universe. Wayne said the idea still hurt his head every time he thought about it. Blackie assumed Prenetian knew what he was talking about — he did give them a Jump Starter which certainly gave his story credibility.
But who would ever believe it? Just after they finished their set, two distinct universes had budged-up in the parking lot of The Getaway Bar and Grill resulting in a mixing zone that bathed it in an odd greenish light. Buster, the band’s lead singer didn’t notice things – hardly anything actually — ever! So, when he looked out the window of the bar (something else he rarely did) and remarked on the odd color of the sky the rest of the band took notice.
Thinking a hail storm was imminent Mark, Wayne, Blackie, and Amelia (who had just met Wayne after the gig) began loading their equipment in Wayne’s 1957 Nomad station wagon. The same wagon that had transported them to numerous other gigs; the difference in this one being they got paid. Blackie felt sure that should be in his diary. Buster was busy trying to sign them to another gig, and as usual didn’t help load the band equipment. Blackie also felt that should be in the diary.
When the budging up ended, the mixing zone and the greenish light disappeared and so did Mark, Blackie,
Wayne, Amelia and the Nomad full of music equipment. They didn’t know where they were, but they did know where they weren’t – Earth. Although they didn’t know it at the time, they were smack dab in the middle of a high plain on Alphus Nebulum.
Getting arrested upon arrival wasn’t part of their plan. In fact, they didn’t have a plan — how could they? According to Blackie’s diary entries it worked to their advantage – probability puts it at 95% positive. Why? Well it was in jail that they met Prenetian, an inmate who gave them his used Jump Starter. Generally speaking, incarceration isn’t a recommended method of finding new friends, but in this case, it seems to have worked out.
On Prenetian’s advice they escaped from jail. Don’t be too impressed — the doors weren’t locked. But you might ask yourself why they were taking advice from a total stranger who happened to be an inmate in the cell next to theirs.
Not long after leaving the jail they met Nita, and after some impromptu spelunking where they met the Lactropodectepoi, they used the Jump Starter to evade more than a few stern-looking soldiers outfitted with very large weapons. The Jump Starter came in handy on several occasions, like the one that took them to Gafcon-49 where Blackie met Joules. But none of those previous circumstances had been as harrowing as the one that led to their most recent jump.
Prenetian had predicted they were likely to find themselves in another mixing zone, and indeed they did. But he failed to mention the consequences could sometimes be very, very unpleasant. They survived, but just barely. And if they hadn’t had Prenetian’s used Jump Starter the outcome of being in that second mixing zone would have been far worse — much, much worse. Of course, if they hadn’t had the Jump Starter in the first place, maybe they wouldn’t have been in that situation. Blackie rolled this idea around in his mind until his head throbbed.
On one hand not ever going to Gafcon-49 meant the group would never have been in a life-threatening situation. On the other hand, had they not gone to Gafcon-49 he would never have met Joules, an option he didn’t want to entertain. The bottom line was they were okay, and thanks to the Jump Starter’s 'Safety First Programming Protocol' Mark, Blackie, Wayne, Amelia, Nita and Joules, and a 1957 Chevy Nomad station wagon full of music equipment were snatched from Volcanon, where they were free falling into a very deep gorge, and were deposited on a sandy plain looking at two gigantic purple moons on the horizon in front of them.
“I can’t believe someone would tamper with our brakes,” said Amelia.
“You don’t know the Shumbrans very well,” replied Joules, “Dad is going to have a fit when he hears about this.” Joules had no idea her Dad had already had his fit, and Shumbrans all over Gafcon-49 were scrambling to get out of his way. It is a universally accepted dictum that if you harass a man’s daughter you may get what you deserve.
Unfortunately, Mr. Livingston didn’t know the Shumbrans had already planned another attempt on his daughter’s life before he conducted his little operation, and any Shumbran who knew about the impending hit was in no position to advance a recall; you might say Mr. Livingston had his way with the Shumbrans; ninety-two of them.
“Do we have any idea what happened back there?” asked Amelia. Amelia was very curious about things, especially things that happened in space. Back on Terra Bulga (Earth’s name in the rest of the universes) she was a doctoral candidate studying math and astronomy. She was inquisitive and had an insatiable appetite for knowledge. She just happened to be at The Getaway Bar and Grill and was helping the band stow their equipment when the mixing zone occurred. She had been lost and just decided to take a break and catch some live music when she met Wayne; fate has a sense of humor. What happened in the parking lot after the gig would make a great 'after party' story, but who would believe it? She barely believed it herself.
“Can anyone explain why we left a perfectly good road and intentionally drove off the side of a mountain?” asked Mark. “Normal people try to stay ON the road, don’t they?”
“We couldn’t negotiate the next turn,” replied Blackie.
“He’s right Mark. That next turn was so tight we would have blown right through it,” agreed Wayne.
“Driving off the side of that mountain at a point where we were still in that mixing zone was our only chance,” explained Blackie, “I thought if the overlapped universes separated before we hit bottom we could use the Jump Starter to pull us out of our free fall. Well, that part was right, wasn’t it? But I had no idea we would be dragged out of one free fall and right into another one.”
“Lucky for us that was a deep gorge on Volcanon,” said Joules.
“Lucky for us the atmosphere on that planet didn’t kill us,” said Wayne.
“Lucky for us the Jump Starter worked,” added Nita.
“At what point did we suspend the agreement that we would collectively decide when we should use the Jump Starter?” asked Mark who had realized he might have an issue with what had just transpired.
“At the point where we were all going to die if Blackie hadn’t intervened,” replied Wayne coolly.
Everyone was quiet for a moment. It was true, they did have an agreement on when and how they were going to use the Jump Starter. But it’s hard to argue with being alive, so they didn’t. The six of them got along great and if the truth were told, Mark was just using the situation to goad his little brother. How could he pass up such a ripe opportunity? The rising sun behind them had cleared the low mountains and two giant purple moons were now resting on the edge of the opposite horizon.
“It’s beautiful here,” said Nita.
“It’s cold out here,” said Blackie.
“Cold?” said Nita, “The sun feels nice and warm to me.”
Joules noticed Blackie looked pale and put her hand on his forehead, “He’s burning up with fever.”
“He looks pale,” added Amelia.
“We need to find that retainer ring for the Jump Starter,” said Mark, “so we can jump back to Gafcon-49 and get him to a clinic.”
“No, not out here in this loose sand,” replied Wayne immediately, “if we were to drop that ring out here we’d never find it again. Plus, if we jump backwards we go to Volcanon not Gafcon-49, and even if we could backtrack to Gafcon we would jump right back on that mountain road and we don’t have any brakes, remember?”
“We have to do something,” said Joules, her hand still pressed to Blackie’s forehead.
“Get in the car,” yelled Mark, “we have to drive.”
“To where?” asked Wayne.
“To anywhere but out here in the sand,” said Mark who could tell Blackie was very sick and getting worse by the minute.
“It looks like there is a road at the base of those mountains behind us,” said Nita. Everyone piled in the Nomad and Wayne made for the mountains. He tore through the loose sands as fast as the car would let him.
People tend to underestimate distances to remote objects and this time was no exception; it took much longer to get to the road at the base of the mountains than they expected. Fortunately for them the road didn’t go up, it followed the flats along the base. “Which way?” yelled Wayne as he brought the Nomad to a sliding halt. Notwithstanding the Caterinian effect Mark wanted to turn left; he’s left-handed.
“Turn right,” croaked Blackie.
“Sorry,” said Wayne to Mark, “it’s his call.”
“Please hurry, he doesn’t look well and he’s burning up,” pleaded Joules. Wayne turned right and barreled down the road at breakneck speed.
Blackie’s temperature was so high Joules could feel the heat without touching his forehead. He opened his eyes slightly, making little slits like he needed to communicate something then he passed out and began hallucinating, “I need your help,” he cried out. “Where are you, how do I find you? They’ll bring me there, they’ll bring me there, don’t leave, please don’t leave, I… please…”
“Blackie, I’m right here; I’m not leaving,” replied Joules, her voice cracking as she attempte
d to calm him down.
“Wayne,” said Mark, “don’t forget we have no brakes.”
“Right,” responded Wayne as he eased the Nomad back to 80 miles per hour. The Nomad station wagon was a great car, but it was not a sports car, and anything lying in the road that might require evasive action at 80 miles per hour could send the Nomad into a roll. Wayne had driven the Nomad for years and he was astutely aware of its handling deficiencies at high speed.
He also knew the Nomad like the back of his hand, and if anyone could have pulled an evasive maneuver at eighty miles per hour and live to tell about it, it would have been Wayne. The thought of having to do that with five other people in the car, and a load of music equipment, not to mention the remains of a large picnic lunch made him ease up on the throttle a little more.
Sensing that Wayne had slowed down Joules asked, “What are you doing?”
“Probably saving our lives,” said Wayne softly.
Joules knew Mark and Wayne had been friends for a long time and that Mark could read Wayne like a book (not that he practiced that skill often enough) so she didn’t argue. No one wanted to help Blackie more than Mark and if he didn’t object to slowing down it wasn’t her place to intercede – Wayne’s car, Wayne’s rules. Besides, it didn’t make sense to try to save Blackie’s life only to kill him and everyone else in the car in an auto accident. Common sense prevailed.
“Look, look out there,” yelled Amelia. “There’s someone standing there by that lake.” Wayne eased off on the gas pedal and pulled over to the side of the road.
“I’ll go,” said Mark to Nita as he opened the door while the Nomad rolled to a stop.
“I’m coming with you,” she said. They trudged through the loose sand to the lake as fast as they could and stopped near the person standing there. He was short, slightly baldheaded and humanoid.
“We need help,” blurted Mark as he stopped. “My brother is sick and we need directions to a doctor.
“Can I help you?” asked the being. Nita had walked past them to the edge of the water looking at it suspiciously; the water’s edge was covered with ice and a thin dusting of snow.
Jump Starting the Universe Book Bundle Page 33