Text Copyright © 2016
Les Lynam, Tim Hemlin, & Czidor Lore, LLC.
This story is a work of fiction and licensed to the original purchaser only. It cannot be sold, shared, transferred or given away. The characters and events portrayed are fictitious and the products of the authors’ imaginings. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to actual events are purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations for reviews.
All characters and related elements of ...Before You Leap, ...Saves Nine, ...In One Basket, and all books associated with the Time Will Tell series remain the exclusive copyrighted property of Les Lynam.
All characters and related elements of The Wastelanders, Black Silence, and all books associated with The Wastelanders series remain the exclusive copyrighted property of Tim Hemlin.
All characters and related elements of Travel Glasses, Insight Kindling, Time for the Lost, and all books associated with The Call to Search Everywhen series remain the exclusive copyrighted property of Czidor Lore, LLC.
Published in the United States of America.
Cover design by Les Lynam © 2016
First Edition: 2016 Published by Giusti Communications LLC
Dedication
We dedicate this story as a gift to all our devoted fans and readers and as an enticement and welcome to all new readers who enter our collective worlds.
Thank you for your support!
Introduction
In this collaboration we’ve combined our characters to interact within one intersecting world to create one seamless story. We use characters from our books (and each others’ books) to populate this tale. We had fun taking twists and turns (some in different directions than the authors planned) and we hope you have fun reading it.
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If you like the characters in this story, find all the links to our books and social media sites at the end of the story.
. . . Want Not
by Les Lynam
The opening of this story might take place right after Les Lynam’s second novel …Saves Nine. (Or it might not . . .)
***
As LX initiated the dimensional shift away from his recently depleted secret storage facility high in the Sierra Madras, Jane Carmichael sighed.
“I propose to barter one penny in exchange for the revelation of your current contemplation,” he offered his companion.
The pretty blonde teenager gave him a brief blank stare. “Do you mean ‘penny for your thoughts’?”
“I believe that is essentially what I have stated.”
“Simplify, Lex, simplify. But OK, I was still thinking about the end of the world and how it doesn’t bother you to let it happen.”
“The world has not ended within my lifetime, and even if humankind manages to become extinct, the planet will continue to exist for several billion years. It is highly unlikely that any event prior to Sol’s nova phase would constitute the energy required to decimate the planet.”
“Don’t be so literal, Lex, it gets annoying. You just told me that in 2059, China and India throw a nukefest and two billion people are vaporized in minutes. And then another five billion croak during…” She lifted her hands to mark quotes in the air. “The Dark Decades.”
“From my perspective, it is a historical fact.”
“We just now take off from the Lair in early 2059 heading into the future. So right now we’re jumping over a time when billions of people are dying and it doesn’t effect you in the least.”
“Depending upon whose estimate you choose to accept, there were 20 to 75 billion humans who were born and died prior to your own genesis in 1952. Do you feel remorse for the termination of their existence?”
“That is not the same thing. They lived their lives. No one nuked two billion of them at once.”
“Given the history of the violent actions humans have taken against each other throughout the existence of the species, I am certain a high percentage did not live their full potential lifetimes. Though it is extrapolated data, I feel confident in stating that several billion were terminated by the act of warfare.”
“You can be a complete downer, man. Remember, you plucked me from a time when people my age were protesting the Vietnam War. I just don’t get how you guys from the future can know two-thirds of the people on the planet get snuffed in a few short decades and you don’t want to try to stop it.”
“We have had this discussion. I have explained the dangers of attempting to alter any historic event. While the outcome has potential for improvement, there is also the possibility that a greater calamity would replace the one that was averted by intervention.”
“You could at least show a little sympathy for . . .” Before Jane could finish her statement, the Space/Time Explorer lurched, slamming her head against the door with LX crushed against her. “What the hell, Lex! Did you hit something?”
“That is not possible.”
The forward display screen filled with lines of unintelligible white text rapidly scrolling over a background that pulsed between dark red and bright orange. The S.T.E. shifted the opposite direction sending LX against the wall with Jane crashing into him.
“This is not possible,” he repeated. “The inertia dampeners keep the cabin stable even if there is an external…” They found themselves suddenly pressed against the ceiling.
“What is going on, Lex?” Jane shrieked as they tumbled to their left and again slammed Jane against the door.
“I do not know. This is not possible.” They slammed to the right.
“I wish you’d stop saying that. It obviously is possible.”
“My neural net connection to the computer is severed. I can get no data.”
Jane pointed to the gibberish on the forward screen. “That doesn’t look too good either.” The final lurch slapped them against that very same screen and the cabin went dark. “Lex?” Jane squeaked.
“There is no precedence for this,” he replied. “No Chrono-Historian has ever reported any incident that remotely resembles what we have experienced.”
“Where are we?”
“I have no relevant data to base a response to your query.”
“Well what’s your best guess? I mean are we back in the real world or did we crash in the Twilight Zone?”
“I have no data nor prior experience to prompt reasonable speculation.” A light sprung up between them as LX activated his illuminator. “Based on what we experienced, I would suggest that an unknown powerful external force struck the S.T.E. at or near the moment we rematerialized in our home dimension. It is my hope that the computer will reboot and begin any needed repairs.”
“Thank you! Geez, why was that so hard to say?”
“It is merely conjecture. I have no access to data to affirm or refute my hypothesis. Wait! I just felt a flash on my neural net connection. Perhaps communication is about to be re-established.”
“Cool,” Jane nodded. “By the way, nice flashlight. Can I see it?”
“Referring to the illuminator as a flashlight is the equivalent of calling a flashlight from your era a candle.”
“Well excuse me Mister We’ve-renamed-all-the-cool-toys-in-the-future,” Jane sneered. “May I please see your illuminator?”
LX handed her the tiny device. “Sliding a digit along the flat
edge will alter the percentage of lumens generated.”
Jane rolled the small cylinder in her palm until she found the barely detectable flat edge. “This is even smaller than a AA battery.” She moved her thumb along the edge and the cabin again plunged into darkness. She reversed the motion and squeezed her eyes closed against the unbearable glare. Finding a setting similar to what it was when she received it, she handed it back to LX. “That is far out, man.”
“I have,” LX paused to scowl and rock his eyes from left to right. “Partial access to the computer. I have requested our location, but there is no response. Wait. It was merely delayed. Our location is… That is odd. Though we should be in the mid-twenty-second century, the computer cannot connect to the omni-net. Calculations based on the magnetic poles puts us somewhere in the vicinity of what you call the state of Texas. It appears the DNA homing function is still offline, I cannot determine an exact date.”
“Maybe we can ask someone. Can you open the door?”
“I believe so.” The door slid open and sweltering dry heat rushed in. “That seems excessive. This has the appearance of a desert. Texas is a lush, well-irrigated crop producing area in the twenty-second century.”
Jane pointed to a figure rapidly approaching them on foot. “Maybe this guy will know. He seems to be headed our way.”
“Perhaps we should retreat to the safety of our ship until we can ascertain the intentions of this stranger.”
“Come on, Lex. He doesn’t have any guns, and we’re all out here in the middle of nowhere. Why would some lone guy want to hurt us? And anyway, he seems kind of small.”
“Hola, amigos,” the man shouted as he drew nearer. “I thought Si-Ting was loco when she sent me out here to meet you. She didn’t say you would appear from nowhere. How did you do that?”
“You were directed to meet us here?” LX asked.
“Si,” the small figure replied. “Si-Ting saw a vision. She said it was the most powerful she ever had.” He sidled up next to them and put out a caramel colored hand. “My name is Caballito.”
LX stared blankly at the proffered gesture of friendship. Jane glanced at her companion, rolled her eyes and reached out to shake Caballito’s hand. “Hi, I’m Jane Carmichael, and this is Lex.”
“Where are we?” LX asked.
Caballito spread his arms wide. “Welcome to the Wasteland, mis amigos! But we should hurry. Si-Ting said there is little time.”
“So this isn’t Texas?” Jane asked.
“Si, amiga. Once upon a time. Or so they say.”
“That is not possible,” LX argued. “Texas is a fertile productive land in this century.”
“Perhaps the sun has already started to hurt your brain, amigo, this has been a Wasteland for more than a hundred years.”
LX’s face paled. “Jane Carmichael, I believe whatever disrupted our journey has dropped us into an alternate time-line.”
“Amigos, please. We must hurry. We must meet the Bear and those he has gone to collect, then we must hurry to Si-Ting. She said there would be little time to fix the terrible thing that has happened.”
. . . Waste Not
by Tim Hemlin
The world that LX and Jane landed in is a part of Hemlin’s ongoing series, The Wastelanders where a drop of water is more precious than gold.
***
Bear spotted the strangers traveling alongside Caballito. They hardly appeared dressed for the Wasteland, or the Rim for that matter, unless they represented something new in the old republic army. He didn’t think so.
“Buenos días, Oso,” said Caballito.
“Are these our amigos perdidos?” Bear asked. He took a good look at them. They appeared lost, all right. He only hoped they were friends.
“Jane Carmichael,” announced one of their guests, extending her hand.
“I am Bear.” He met her greeting.
“Does the name of every inhabitant of this alternate timeline derive from an animal?” the other visitor asked.
“Only the fortunate,” Bear replied with a wink.
“That’s Lex,” Jane said. “He’s very intelligent if somewhat far out.”
“Now when you say far out,” Bear began, “do you mean—”
“Coo, groovy, outta sight, or whatever you future people say,” she interrupted. “And when he says we’re from an alternate time-line, well, add a whole different reality to his. Comprende?
“No,” Bear and Caballito responded in unison, “No comprendo.”
“I’ll try to explain.”
“But first we must get you out of this heat,” Bear declared. “Wherever you’re from it’s quite obvious you’re not accustomed to our climate’s bloody brutality.”
“Yes, I have learned a twentieth century idiom customarily stated during such discussions of climate: ‘From my observation the extreme temperature appears to be optimal for the culinary preparation of a domestic fowl’s ova’,” LX stated.
Bear and Caballito stared at him then exchanged glances.
“Why don’t you just say it’s hot enough to fry an egg?” Jane told LX. “If there’s a long way of saying something,” she added to the other two, “leave it to Lex.”
“Marvelous,” Bear laughed. “Marvelous.”
“Oso,” Caballito said and pointed nervously. “Rim guards in the distance.”
“Members of our society’s security forces that are best avoided,” Bear told the newcomers. “Come, follow me.”
“Where are we going?” asked Jane.
“I hope crowds, loud music and alcohol don’t offend you,” he replied, “because we’re going to a pub owned by a friend of mine.”
“Far out.”
Bear hesitated.
“Jane Carmichael is agreeable to your proposition,” LX told him.
“Marvelous.” He started walking, beckoning them to join him. “There is a room in back,” he explained. “It’ll be safe to talk there.”
“Yes,” LX stated, “I have many questions. For instance, why is the land not fertile and productive?”
“Unfortunately, it’s a long story of denial and neglect,” Bear said sadly.
“La avaricia también,” added Caballito.
“Yes, greed, too,” Bear concurred.
“I believe greed transcends all timelines,” LX stated.
Maybe he’s not as odd as I’d first thought, Bear pondered. Foot traffic picked up as they hit the outskirts of the Houston Rim. Many artisans chose to live on the Rim, feeling uncomfortable in the conformity of the bubble. However, many homeless and poor also tried to scrape out a living there as well.
Examining the shops and people of the Rim, LX asked, “Is this a new type of feudal society?”
“You’re not far off, my friend. Here it all comes down to water, and whoever controls the water has the power.”
“Sounds like something Tricky Dick could dig,” Jane commented, then added, “Nixon.”
“Nixon?” Bear wondered.
“President in my time,” she told him.
Bear sympathized. “I see. Well, love, every age has their problematic leaders. However, our problem at hand is a little more immediate.”
When they reached the pub, Bear nodded at L.A. Bly, the owner and bartender, and took his entourage immediately to the room in the back. Two women awaited them. Bear naturally recognized Si-Ting, the time-witch. The other was more of a girl, actually. Pretty but young, someone he didn’t know.
“This is Calla,” Si-Ting introduced. “She’s also from an alternate timeline.”
“How in the worlds did this happen?” Jane asked.
“Fantasmas,” muttered Caballito.
“Ghosts?” Bear questioned incredulously. “You can’t be seriou
s.”
“In a manner of speaking, Little Horse isn’t that far off,” Si-Ting responded. “You see,” she explained to the others, “in my world, the past, present and future are all intertwined. The distinction is only like a thread on a blanket. The thread may be from the past but the blanket is the whole of it all.
“Sometimes,” she continued, “there is a disturbance in time, a vortex, and anyone caught at that moment can be pulled away from his or her thread of time. I’ve created such disturbances—bent time, so to speak—but not on the scale that has happened to you.”
LX stirred. “I do not understand how this relates to imaginary phantasmagorical beings that primarily exist in stories told at night around an open fire with the intention of eliciting fear.”
“Okay, you don’t believe in ghost stories,” Jane told him. “Let her go on.”
“In order to bend time back to where it was,” Si-Ting continued, “I’m going to need help.”
Jane and LX met each other’s eyes.
“From her,” the time-witch added, indicating Calla.
“First I must find Valcas,” she responded.
“Who’s Valcas?” asked Jane.
Calla paused a moment before saying, “He’s kind of like the guy your mother always warned you about but who your father secretly wanted to be.”
“So a Marlon Brando-James Dean ‘dangerous’ type?” she suggested, raising her eyebrows and catching Calla’s eye.
LX looked at her. “I did not believe you were the type of female who would be enticed by males who exhibit antisocial behavior.”
“And you would be right, Lex. I don’t go for bad boys.”
[Anthology] A Friend in Need Page 1