Quantum Touch (Book 1): Storm Portal

by Michael R. Stern

  Ashley quipped, “I could use something stronger.”

  The First Lady said, “No problem.” She walked to the door and asked the waiter who was standing at the door to bring in coffee and drinks. A cart was wheeled in, fully equipped.

  The president said, “Normally, we would have staff here to serve, but under the circumstances, I thought better of it. Help yourselves.”

  As everyone rose and went to the cart, the president said to me, “We need to fix this. These images are disturbing.”

  I said, “Strangely enough, I can say 'you should be in my shoes.' And those were my shoes.” The president smiled. “Did you find out anything about the Suburban? I can't help but think someone here is after me. Linda's worried too.”

  “I'm concerned about it too. I've asked Tom to see if there are any other ways we can monitor what's happening. We've been discussing what we can do. Let's get a drink.” I had coffee, and the president chose sparkling water. As the seats refilled, the room was quiet, everyone lost in thought.

  “Now I know how Kennedy felt during the Cuban Missile Crisis,” said George.

  “You know, George, this room was one of the places that meetings were held during that October. But back then, we really had an enemy. I hope you don't feel like we're enemies.”

  “Sorry, Mr. President, I was just thinking that being president, you have to deal with a lot. I would bet that something's going on somewhere in the world that you need to tend to right now. Not to mention Congress.”

  “George, you're right. You should be in my shoes.” We all laughed.

  What had begun as an enjoyable dinner had turned somber. Recognizing the change in atmosphere, the president said, “I wanted a nice dinner for you before we got to this. Fritz and Linda, we had more fun at your house, believe me!”

  Sandy interrupted him. “Just out of curiosity, Mr. President, are we in trouble?”

  “No, but you need to know the enormity of the problem,” said the president. “One thing we haven't discussed is the possibility of altering history, being present when a world-altering conversation or event takes place, maybe affecting the result.”

  “Like being at Ford's Theater in time to stop Booth,” I interrupted, glancing at Ash. Everyone looked at me, with varying expressions of surprise and shock. The president stared at me, checked his watch.

  “Or what if someone forced you to do something now or in the past?” he asked. “Or you walked into a billy club? You folks have a trip to make, and I actually have a few things to do myself. I appreciate your coming, I really do.” To me, he said, “Keep working at it, and if you need anything, you have my number.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” I said.

  As if on command, James came in. He announced that we would be driving to Andrews. Once again, everyone rose.

  “Thank you for the lasagna,” said the First Lady, “and the recipe.”

  As we left the Roosevelt Room, the president said to me, “I mean it. If I can help, let me know.”

  “Thanks. Talk to you soon,” I said.

  IT WAS ONLY a few minutes before Jim Koppler asked to come in. The First Lady excused herself, seeing her husband's piercing eyes behind lowered eyebrows, his jaw muscles rippling.

  “Mr. President, I can't stand by while you take so lightly the potential threat these people pose. Food, wine. The secret service isn't doing its job. Mr. Williams said he would take it home if there was nothing wrong. He's not protecting you, and he's ignoring the rules. And who's this newcomer, Sandy Horton? Has anyone done a background check on her?”

  Breathing in through flared nostrils and then blowing out through pursed lips, the president chose to remain calm. “Jim, I know you're doing what you think is necessary. I also know that the food will be checked. It was a gift. I'm trying to keep their trust, so if there is a value to the portal, we don't have self-created enemies. And I do wish you would choose to remember that I'm a pretty smart guy. I wanted Russell here. If inviting the others got him here, so be it. So far, our explanation has been accepted, and there has been no negative effect. This stays in the White House. Got me?”

  Koppler left. The president knew that little would change. Furious, the national security advisor returned to his office “Let's see how smart he is.” His cell was at his ear.

  Chapter Twenty

  BY 10:30, WE WERE BACK at school. We said goodbye to James and stood as a group in the parking lot.

  “Well, we sure have a lot to talk about,” said Lois.

  “Not tonight. I still have some thinking to do,” I said.

  “Tomorrow then,” said George. “We can't talk about this during school. We need to assess this.”

  Linda said, “Come to our house at noon. Ashley, go shopping.”

  “What should I get?”

  “Get inspired.”

  Watching the verbal volleying, Sandy said, “I'll help. See you tomorrow.”

  “We'll see you at noon then.” Linda said.

  When we arrived home, I almost fell into an armchair in the family room. “Nice dinner,” I said.

  But Linda wasn't in the mood for small talk. She said, “Fritz, they're not fooling around. Now I'm more afraid of not finding the portal again.” She sat across from me.

  “I know. Those images alarm me. They didn't even notice all the things I did. I could make out the kids' faces. The fire was there; we were there. And they pulled it out of thin air. That's actually pretty impressive, but it's scary.” The reality finally slid into my head. What if someone else finds out? I could be kidnapped or killed. I didn't mention that to Linda.

  “Fritz, what are we going to do?” She was sitting on the edge of the couch.

  “Exactly what we've been doing. I'll have to ask George if I can come in after hours, so no one will disturb me.”

  “Us, you mean. I'm coming with you.”

  “Okay,” I said, surprising her. “I'm strangely tired. Let's go to bed.”

  Sunday started later than usual. Neither of us had slept well, and we moved slowly. Linda spent a bit longer than usual in the bathroom.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Nerves. Dinner was great going down but didn't sit well. I'll be fine.”

  At 11:30, Ashley showed up in his Sunday best—torn jeans and what appeared to be a new flannel shirt. He carried a bag of groceries, and Sandy had a twelve pack of beer that she put in the refrigerator. She seemed to feel at home.

  “New shirt?” I asked, while Ashley emptied the groceries. I had seen almost all of his wardrobe at one time or another.

  “Yeah. L.L. Bean. Bought a couple. I put my elbow through one last week, and these were on sale.”

  “You shopping? That's something new.” The portal? Sandy? I wondered.

  At noon, the McAllisters arrived. A black Suburban drove by as I opened the door. We had set the table in the dining room, and the food was ready.

  Lois took the lead. “So now we know what the government is thinking. What else do we know?”

  I had the answer, the list I had been developing in my mind. I went through all I knew about the weather, lightning, the doorknob buzzing, the paperclips. “What's new is the brain activity. I looked up thermograms earlier. The bright green thalamus indicates hyperactivity, not something abnormal, but it might explain my susceptibility to electrical charges. We also know they broke into the school.”

  George said, “I'll have to check the tape storage and see if it tells us anything.”

  “It probably won't, George. They know how to erase it.”

  “I'll check it anyway. Can't hurt,” George replied.

  I continued, “We also know that the president considers this a priority. As friendly and cool as he tries to be, there's no doubt he will act to eliminate the threat if I can't. We took an oath of silence.” They all stared at me. “That probably wouldn't hold up in court, but it would be a nice final reminder just before a gun goes off in your face or you get pushed out of a plane at 30,00
0 feet over the ocean.”

  “Oh, come on, Fritz,” said George.

  I raised my hand to stop him and then said slowly, for emphasis, “George, every one of us is going to be watched. We already know they bugged us here.” I suddenly worried whom else they might have bugged. “You all need to stay tight-lipped. I need to solve this, because I think we're on a timetable, and we don't know how much time we have. The president has too much to do to worry about us. Like you said, George, something is going on somewhere that demands his attention.” Hesitating, I looked around the table. “They have the problem solved if I am permanently gone, but that leaves you all as accessories. With me gone, you're not direct problems because I think I'm the only one who can open the portal. But even a suggestion that time travel is real, or that the government can detect those images puts us all at risk. And what you know puts you at risk.”

  “How much time do you think we have?” Ashley asked, his fork poised to dive into the potato salad.

  “I don't know, but he might let us keep trying until we run out of ideas. You heard him offer help. If they do try to help, without our asking, that's when I think time will be running out.”

  Lois, having listened to all this calmly, said, “Then you need us to help. Like you've said before, Fritz, we have some pretty smart people here. What do you want us to do?”

  “I started writing what we know at school. I haven't actually written down anything since. Let's put a list together, with dates, so we can follow our progress.”

  “There's one thing that I don't understand from the projection,” said Sandy. “What was that bright light at the end?”

  “My desk,” I said. “Hold on. What about my desk?”

  We discussed all we already knew once again. Then I remembered that my cell phone was in the desk drawer when they scanned the room. It was turned on, and the lights were turned off. I said I didn't remember their being near any electric sockets. “If that antenna thing was so sensitive, the phone battery could have been enough to make that image. But we're already pretty sure the desk has some role in this.”

  * * *

  AT HIS DESK early Sunday morning, the president scanned the Washington Post absorbing reactions to his speech in Brussels. He lifted his coffee cup as Tom Andrews knocked and entered.

  “Good morning, sir.”

  “How did it go?”

  “I got all of them sir. Houses, cars, classrooms, the school office. This time, no one will find them. Each one has its own receiver. We'll know anything and everything. I was listening to what we picked up in the parking lot last night. They're meeting at Russell's at noon.”

  “I really hate doing this.” For a moment, the president hesitated. “Has Mr. Koppler said anything to you?

  “Sir, he thinks there's some kind of conspiracy. I don't think he trusts teachers, which is strange. Did you know both his parents were teachers?”

  “I did, but I'm not going to say anything. I hope they figure this out soon. Without us. And Tom, see if you can find out why he doesn't trust teachers.”

  The door opened and the First Lady entered, looked at her husband, and then at Tom before she said, “I'm interrupting, sorry.”

  As she turned, Tom said, “I was just leaving, ma'am.” When he left, she saw the look on her husband's face, and said, “You didn't!”

  “Tom took care of it last night, while they were here. They are all a problem now. I want to monitor what they're doing. And I want to know if they find anything. Plus, they could be in danger. They're getting together at noon.”

  * * *

  “HERE ASHLEY. Take this home,” said Linda, handing him the remainder of his shopping. Most of lunch was uneaten. As everyone prepared to leave, I said, “I want to get into the school at off-hours, George, so I can work this out without interruption.”

  “Well that's kind of irregular, Fritz.”

  Lois said, “George, don't be stupid. He's not going to raid the soda machine. This is important.”

  Stunned by her outburst, George said, “Well, all right. You'll need to let me know when, so I can give you the keys.”

  Lois exclaimed, “Jee-zus, George, make him a set! If he needs us, he'll let us know. Won't you, Fritz?”

  “Of course.” I was as surprised by Lois as George was.

  Lois finished, “You'll get the keys made by tomorrow, George.”

  Ashley and Sandy left next. “You two need to think about the desk,” I said. “Ash, I may need to take it apart to see if there's anything unusual there. Will you help?”

  “Sorry, I'm busy.” I gave him a dirty look.

  Linda shook her head and said to Sandy, whose look of bemusement was almost comical, “This is what you've gotten yourself into. It's amazing they haven't gotten into more trouble.”

  “We're making up for it now.”

  Ashley went out, but Sandy turned to Linda and me. All she could say was “unbelievable,” and then she left, too.

  A black Suburban passed the door. I watched it disappear around the corner.

  * * *

  THE RESIDENCE PHONE rang. “Yes,” said the president, after he listened to the latest report. He hung up, and then picked up the phone again. “Would you get me the Secretary of Energy please? No, I'll hold on. Thanks.”

  The White House operator came back on. “I'll connect you now, sir.”

  The president asked the secretary to provide a copy of the image scans. “Tomorrow will be fine,” he said. “Thanks, Brenda.” and he hung up.

  The First Lady waited for an explanation. “Tom called. They think the desk is somehow involved, more than we suspected. That's where the bright flash was. I just want to look at it and see if I can see anything myself.”

  * * *

  “FRITZ, I NEED to talk. I know you want to find out more, and I understand why, I think. History and you are inseparable, and the portal gives you access to people and events you want to see. So far you've been lucky. But what if you go through and can't get back. You keep asking about the portal changing things. It's changing you. You've always been careful, cautious, and considerate. This is like some kind of, I don't know, temptation. Almost an obsession. Like Gettysburg.”

  “Lin, I want to know more because frankly I'm afraid of the government. It used to bother me when a cop car pulled up behind me. This is way worse. I will be careful if I do find it again. If I know how it works, I'll know we're safe, because it won't be random.”

  “For the past week, I feel like you're somewhere else. I know the president scares you. Not him directly, maybe. But I wish you would talk to me about what you're thinking. Maybe I can help. I'm not just your wife. And I love you more than Ashley does.”

  I laughed at that, but I knew she was right. She had put my feelings into words. That didn't surprise me. I told her that I really didn't know what to do, that I was guessing at every step. “I can't help but feel we don't have a lot of time. So timing is going to matter. But I can't promise absolutely because I really have no idea when or even if it will happen again. And Gettysburg wasn't my fault.”

  “Then promise me this. If it happens and you can call me, you will. I can be there in no time. Maybe we can go together. Fritz, we're partners, for better or worse. Remember.”

  “I promise.” I meant it.

  Leaning against the red brick wall, cooling in the late fall shade, Tom Sawyer his companion. A girl named Kathy sat down on the cement pad next to him and asked what he was reading. Freckles. Three boys came up, taunting. The book lowered with a cement book mark. Anger glaring. They continued so he stood. The challenge had been made. Suspended for a week; Dad's strap. She kissed his cheek. The three boys left her alone, avoided another fight.

  “Shit,” Ashley said. He slammed the book shut and went to bed.

  * * *

  FRESHLY MOWN LAWNS owned the morning air as I headed for work. Smells like Monday, I thought. Sunny blue sky. I never thought I would complain about good weather. When I arrived at school, G
eorge was waiting.

  “Fritz, I color-coded the keys so you would know what went to which door. This one is for the first front door; this one is for the second door; and this one is for the side doors. Remember, the camera will turn on when you unlock the second door.”

  “Thanks, George.”

  “Fritz, I really hope you have some luck with this.”

  “Me too. It's tough having it hanging over my head.”

  “Our heads,” added George. He was right.

  “See you later. Thanks again.”

  I removed the books from my briefcase and the brochure from the lower desk drawer. On a whim, I changed the position of the books. Ready for another week, I walked out of the room, as Ashley walked out of his.

  “Hey,” said Ashley.

  “You look awful.” Staring at me, undisguised by a grin, were dark circles. “You look like a raccoon.”

  “Didn't sleep much. Reading late. Interesting weekend, huh?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Imagine how much we could brag. Or the tales we could tell the classes. We'd be the most interesting teachers in New Jersey.”

  “I already am.” He laughed.

  Sandy walked in from the parking lot. “What's so funny?” she asked.

  “We're going to be Teachers of the Year,” said Ashley.

  “Except nobody will know,” I said. “See you later.” As they headed for their classrooms, I reached for the doorknob, and … a buzz. “Hey guys, a shock.”

  “No lightning,” said Ash. He and Sandy walked back.

  “Stay here.” I opened the door and took a step in. It was my classroom, the same as always. Sandy and Ashley watched me, both faces grim. “Now I'm really confused. How did this happen?” Neither of them had an answer as the hall began to fill with students.

  “We can't talk now,” said Sandy.

  “After school,” said Ashley.

  I agreed. Steven Chew walked by, said “Hi, Mr. R,” and entered the classroom.

  “Hi Steven,” I said, nonplussed.