QUANTUM

by Imogen Rose

  I had strangely taken to David’s mom as well. I felt an instant connection with her. Whichever way David had persuaded his parents to allow him to move–and I was sure there was more to the story–it was beyond awesome. I’d still have to be without him for two months. Just having him here with me today had taken the edge off my pain and loneliness. Did I just need him for that? Or, was there more to it? I guess the distance could be a good thing. It would help me sort the bad from the good and make sure that I wasn’t just using David to dampen my sadness. I had to kick myself back into real life again and deal with what was going on. But two months, that’s an awfully long time.

  “I’ll try to visit you as much as I can, but it won’t be easy. Between looking after Dad, school and homework, it’s going to be a challenge. Especially since the flights are so long.”

  We were interrupted by the doorbell ringing. “David, go hide in my bedroom. It’s probably Beth. I really don’t want her seeing you here.”

  I dealt with Beth the best I could. I could tell that she was disappointed when I insisted that I would be fine and wanted to sleep in my own room. She left saying that she would ask the agents to keep a special look out.

  When I went to tell David that it was all clear, he’d fallen asleep in my bed. He looked peaceful, gentle snoring sounds coming from where he lay on my pillow. I went and lay beside him, feeling safe, giving way to my dreams.

  By the time Christmas came along, I was proudly zooming around on my spanking new Harley, which I had guilted Mom into buying for me. It hadn’t been all that difficult once she found out about my misadventure in Mountain View and that I had tried to find her. Turns out that Ella and she had moved to Hollywood when Ella got cast in a TV show. She had apparently told me all about it during our last lunch, but I had been too busy listening to my iPod. So that whole news bulletin totally eluded me, as did the slip of paper on which she jotted down her new number. I vaguely remember throwing it in the garbage. Anyway, the Harley was mine.

  I had spent a hard two months without David. He hadn’t been able to visit at all, so I was by myself most of the time. I was busy, so I guess it wasn’t too bad. Monica was a bit weird with me and, shortly after David left, when I spent a girl’s evening out with her and some of the girls from the lacrosse team, she took me aside.

  “A, what’s going on? Why did you change your look?”

  Okay, I admit it. Ever since I met David, I was paying more attention to the way I looked. I was even using some of the perfume my mom left behind. I couldn’t have him think I was totally gross. I was even wearing my hair down instead of pulled into my usual ponytail. So what? “Oh, do you have to go on about it? Seriously, can’t we talk about regular stuff?”

  Monica shrugged. “What about David? Where did he go?”

  “He went home. His dad’s not well. He’ll be back in a couple of months.”

  And he did come back. But Gertrude didn’t. It was like she’d disappeared into thin air. Like Raj, in fact. No one had seen him either. I was devastated losing Gertrude. She was a permanent fixture in my bed; I needed her warmth at night. Mom offered to buy me a new dog for Christmas, but Dad wouldn’t hear of it. He was right. No other dog could take Gertrude’s place anyway.

  David moved into a small apartment in Princeton, just a few blocks from my house. He started coming to school with me.

  “David, are you going to tryout for the hockey team?” I asked him, after he’d been at school for a few days. We were standing by Lake Carnegie in Princeton. I wanted us to have our very own lake here. It was way less isolated than the lake David had taken me to in Mountain View, but just as pretty, I thought anyway.

  “You think I should?”

  “Yeah, definitely! You’ve been playing for Mountain View varsity, right? You probably won’t even have to try out. Just talk to Coach about it.”

  “All right, I will. Just bear in mind that I’ll outplay you,” he smirked.

  Yeah, right. I ate those words. David could play! I was sure that he would become our next Captain, when Christian left for college next year. So, David and I practically spent all our time together. We were in all the same classes, played hockey and hung out. I didn’t feel lonely anymore. Furthermore, I felt secure in the knowledge that David had my back. I felt connected with someone–other than Gertrude–for the first time in my life.

  We were only apart twice during the remainder of the year. Once was at Christmas when David went home to see his parents. He did ask Dad and me to come, but Dad didn’t want to go–poker game–and I didn’t want to leave Dad on his own. So Christmas was difficult.

  The second time was now–October. He’d been gone for almost a week–during school time. He didn’t give me any warning as he burst through my door early in the morning last week.

  “Arizona, I’ve got to leave for a while. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Take care of yourself.”

  “Where are you going?” I asked, concerned. He looked unusually stressed.

  “I have to go home. Mom needs me.”

  “Is everything okay? Is your dad all right?”

  “Yeah, they’re fine.”

  “Then what? Is Raj back?” There had been no signs of Raj during the last year. It was like he and his family had evaporated, they had left no clues behind. There had been a few sightings of Dan and Sophie, but they made a run for it whenever they were spotted.

  “Don’t worry about this, Arizona. I’ll be back in no time. Okay?”

  “I guess. Call me every so often to let me know you’re okay,” I said, making sure I wasn’t sounding clingy. I could cope just fine. I was just worried about him; he looked so tense.

  “Babe, I have to go,” he said, as he held me tight for a last time before he left.

  It was now a week later. I didn’t know if I should be pissed or seriously worried. I looked down at my cell. No point calling David again, he’d turned off his phone. I hated to, but I called his dad.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi. Is this Dr. Sanderson?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “Oh, pardon me. This is Arizona Stevens. I’m David’s….”

  “Hi, Arizona! How are you doing? Inez and I were hoping that you would join us at Christmas. We were sorry you couldn’t make it.”

  “Me, too. I’d love to come down this Christmas.” I’m sure we could find Dad a poker game in Mountain View. “Dr. Sanderson, is David there with you?”

  “No, he’s with his mother.”

  “Have you heard from him at all? Is he okay? I’m just a bit worried. He hasn’t called me at all.”

  “I haven’t heard from him, but I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just busy with Inez.”

  “Okay, thanks. Bye.”

  “Goodbye, Arizona. I look forward to seeing you at Christmas.”

  So that was that, I thought to myself as I dragged the duvet up to cover my body. It was too warm, but the duvet afforded a feeling of security. I lay back into the pillow and stared at the ceiling. Dad was away, the house was wonderfully quiet. It would be Halloween soon. It would be my first Halloween with David. I hoped he would be back in time. I would miss dressing Gertrude up in a Halloween costume. Just as I was drifting off with images of different costumes running through my mind, the doorbell rang. Sheesh.

  I stumbled out of bed and went to open the door. I could tell that it was him even before I opened it. The whole house suddenly felt happy. I flung the door open and jumped into his arms. “David!” I smooshed his face with mine.

  “What’s that?” I yelled as something scratched my leg. I looked down. I was overcome with happiness as I jumped off David and gathered her up in my arms. Gertrude.

  epilogue

  Dillard looked at the number again. He’d tried calling it back three times now, but no one was picking up. Some one called Raj Sen left six messages for him. He’d said that it was urgent, that it had to do with Olivia. Quite frankly, he didn’t care. Olivia was history and he’d like to keep
it like that. If it weren’t for the fact that Raj had mentioned that Dillard could be due a lot of money, he wouldn’t even have tried calling back.

  Money? Well, he was in no position to pass up any chance at a bit of money. His ex-wives were bleeding him dry, had bled him dry. He was now forced to live in this crappy council apartment in the Secroft area near Leeds, whereas his latest ex-wife and their kids enjoyed living in the four-bedroom house that he had poured his sweat into. She’d taken everything in the divorce.

  At least Olivia had left without bleeding him dry. In fact, he’d bled her dry, he recalled fondly. Those were the days. Olivia had been one of those toffie-nosed young conservatives seen sipping on Champagne with a capital C at university. He would have never come into contact with her had it not been for Christine Glendorf. Christine was one of the few women in his engineering classes. She also happened to be an active member of the young conservatives. She’d brought Olivia along to one of weekend engineers’ parties. Why? Who knows?

  He’d felt sorry for Olivia. Although she’d been one of only six women at the party, the guys left her alone, concentrating their attentions on the other five–Christine being particularly popular. And it wasn’t because Olivia was dog-bottom ugly. Just the opposite, in fact. Her almost perfect features, accented with a mane of sleek, long hair, made her appear almost unapproachable–until she smiled, which she had done at him when she’d noticed him staring. He’d grabbed a flute from the bar and filled it with beer–it was all they had–and walked over to her.

  “Refreshment, mademoiselle?” he’d asked, gallantly bowing his head.

  She’d laughed, but had taken the flute. And so it began. He’d immersed himself in a false persona, pretending to be just like her, pretending to enjoy the things she did. He kissed footie goodbye and spent his time at ballets–all to be with her. He loved what her presence had offered. It opened doors that had been previously closed to him.

  They had rushed into marriage, or he had, mainly to save money. What was the point in having two apartments when they could live in one? She did start getting to him soon after they moved into their new London flat, after they had both been offered jobs at the university. If she dragged him to one more opera, he’d happily strangle her. What he needed were season tickets to Chelsea FC–which he did get. He reconnected with his buddies and kissed spending time with Olivia goodbye. Well, apart from when they visited her friend Celia. Celia lived with Rockson, a theater producer whom Olivia adored. Dillard adored him for other reasons–Rockson was a dealer, though Olivia wasn’t aware of that. So, a trip to Celia’s meant a supply of the necessary substances to help him cope with the life that he had faked for himself. The drugs helped him more than cope; he actually started feeling brave enough to reveal himself to her. Dillard guessed that she didn’t like the real him. They drifted apart. Divorce was an easy decision.

  You’d think he would have learned his lesson. He’d come out of it fairly wealthy, a magnet for the local girls. He had enjoyed life to the fullest and then got married again. What a sap! He was now back to being almost poor again. Yes, money would come in very handy. He called the number again, no reply.

  Who was Raj Sen anyway? He turned on his computer and googled him–over two million hits. What about Raj Sen and Olivia Darley, that was her married name as far as he could remember? Hmm, this was interesting, Dillard thought to himself as he scanned over the FBI wanted bulletins and news stories form last October. He couldn’t remember this being mentioned in the British press, but then he avoided the news channels.

  So, Raj Sen–probably the man who kidnapped Olivia’s children–was trying to contact him. Why? Wait a minute. Sen? Wasn’t that the name of the woman who had left the odd message on his answering machine last year? He couldn’t recall for sure. He’d jotted it down at the time, but it would have long been discarded. He hadn’t called her back. Again her message had mentioned Olivia, but there had been no mention of any money. What was this all about? There was only one way to find out. He picked up the phone and booked a ticket to New Jersey. Yes, he could call her, but if there was money to be had, he better do it right and surprise her. Only money could change his current unsatisfactory momentum.

  The Story Continues…

  PORTAL CHRONICLES BOOK FOUR

  Imogen Rose was born in a small town in Sweden and moved to London in her twenties. After obtaining a PhD in immunology from Imperial College, she moved with her family to New Jersey, where she has been based for the past ten years. Storytelling is her real passion and she is excited to be publishing the third book in the Portal Chronicles.

  Please visit imogenrose.com for more information.

  FaceBook Fan page:

  www.facebook.com/pages/PORTAL/243074017116?ref=ts

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  An excerpt from Heroes ’Til Curfew

  the second book in the Talent Chronicles series

  by Susan Bischoff

  Something doesn’t feel right.

  But then I thought, Maybe you really are just paranoid.

  Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean no one’s out to get you.

  That last thought was my dad’s voice in my head, because I was that well programmed. Which is why I had varied my schedule and left work a little bit earlier than usual. I was trying to throw off my stalker.

  As I walked down the brick-paved road that ran through the middle of the downtown pedestrian mall, my own boots were the only ones I could hear beating the pavement. The feelings I had weren’t the sensations of being followed and watched that I had become familiar with over the last month or so. Tonight was different.

  It’s not like I’m that kind of psychic. I don’t, like, sense disturbances in the Force or anything like that. It’s just that I’m trained to pay attention to my surroundings. At some point, that kind of training turns to instinct—an instinct that warned me something was up.

  The economy of our town was not great, and downtown was especially bad. Yeah, here and everywhere else in country, right? That left a lot empty storefronts, a lot of darkened glass windows that showed my reflection as I walked by, a lone, dark-haired girl in a vintage army jacket and combat boots, faking confidence in her stride.

  Our store was at the far end of the mall. I had to walk the whole length of it to get home. I remember being so happy when my dad started letting me walk home by myself, because I loved walking it, the feeling of freedom in the night air, the quiet, the glow of the converted gas lights. But making enemies, getting my ass handed to me, getting to walk around with a bruised face for weeks and all the attention that got me…that kind of thing changes a girl, I guess.

  I glanced over at the confident girl who moved from glass to glass beside me, at the dark alleyways that opened up every few buildings, the looming, brick store facades, and the shadows under awnings where the attractive but weak lamplight didn’t reach. I listened hard to the sound of nothing—too much nothing, it seemed to me—and tried not to think about the cell phone in my pocket and of calling Dylan. Not because I was some useless girl, afraid of the dark and in need of rescuing, but just to hear his voice.

  As if I would have the guts to just call up Dylan, just to say “Hey.”

  I passed by the fountain that they didn’t bother to put water in anymore, even in summer. More than one person had used it for a giant trash can today. Was that really any better than throwing your trash right on the ground? What’s wrong with people?

  I don’t know what it was that made me take a closer look as I walked by Dog-Eared. Mr. McGuffey always closed the shop at five o’clock. He said that after dinner his customers were all home reading, and he would be too. The lights were on low in the front of the store, like usual. Over the piles of used books stacked against the front windows, th
e tall bookcases that created a maze through the shop had yet more books stacked on top of them that reached to the ceiling. There was one center aisle that went straight to the back of the shop. In the retail world we call that a power aisle, although it would have had more power if Mr. McGuffey could stop acquiring books and letting the stacks encroach on it. But I guess that squeezing your way around that shop is part of its charm.

  There was a flare of light. Just a quick something that was gone almost as I noticed it. Whatever it was, it was probably what had caught my eye in the first place, because that was just not right. Moving closer to the shop, I thought I saw movement on the far aisle, the one on the side of the shop that butted up against the building next door. There were no windows there, and it was too dark to see, so I decided to duck down the alley on the opposite side. Maybe I could see something through the windows over there.