by P. R. Mason
The sudden absence of movement disoriented me for a moment. Eventually, I took in the sunshine streaming through the window and the sounds of birds singing outside. After getting to my feet, I stumbled to the window and saw that indeed the city did exist out there and not some black void. The square laid out before me was a welcome sight. Even more welcome was the sight of my dad’s car parked just where Rom and I had left it.
I made my way out the window to the veranda. After unfastening the rope from my waist, I clipped it to the wrought iron balustrade. Everything seemed to be going well as I went down the spiral staircase and out to my dad’s car. The sooner I could get this done and be back to the wormhole the better. Every second made it less possible I’d make it in—or worse out of—the wormhole again.
The keys to Dad's car were under the mat. From the position of the sun, I guessed it was probably about noon and wondered if it was possible that I’d arrived back in time only a few minutes after Rom and I had gone through the wormhole with Namia. If the car was still here, surely not much time could have passed.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I felt weird. I’d only driven on only a handful of occasions and I hoped I could do it without getting into any accidents. I had no choice really. The car was the only way to get to my dad’s house in a hurry. After firing the engine, I put the car carefully in gear and moved slowly forward.
The drive to Dad’s house, a few blocks away, seemed to stretch to a million miles. I couldn’t quite get the hang of the brakes. Each time I touched them with my foot, the car jerked violently to a stop. A touch on the gas made an equally violent start. The front end of the Camry appeared longer than a football field through the windshield as I tried to wield it around corners.
Finally, with Dad’s house in sight, I drew a relieved breath that is until I saw the blue lights flashing in the rearview mirror. The police.
I pulled the car to the curb and stopped directly in front of Dad’s house. Switching off the engine, I rolled down the window and waited. Now I’d be taken to jail, I’d be locked up and I’d never get back through the wormhole. Worse, I’d probably meet myself at some point and bring about the end of the world or something.
All of the anxiety of the last few days boiled up and a sob burbled out of my lips. Before I knew it, another sob and then another escaped until I was heaving in and gulping out horrible cries as tears streamed down my face. Laying my head on the steering wheel, I gave into it.
“Are you all right, Miss?” a voice, I assumed the officer, asked through the window but I couldn’t answer.
“Kizzy. What are you doing out here?” I heard my Dad ask. “And in my car?”
“You know this young woman?”
“Yes, officer. This is my daughter.”
“She was driving erratically,” the officer stated. “But since she seems to be in some emotional distress I’ll just make this a warning.”
“Thank you. I’ll take over from here,” Dad said.
By this time, I’d been able to calm my wailing down to a few hiccupping sobs. I lifted my head off the wheel as Dad opened the door.
“Come on in the house, honey.” He reached into the car and took the keys from the ignition.
Grabbing the messenger bag off the passenger seat, I let him take my hand and help me out of the car. With his arm over my shoulders we crossed the street and walked to the front porch. The two of us climbed the steps and entered the house.
“How about something to drink? Can I have an OJ?” I asked. The crying had taken all the moisture out of my body.
I followed Dad into the kitchen, where he poured the drink and handed it to me.
“What’s going on Kizzy?” he asked. “What are you doing here? And why were you driving my car? Not only do you not have a license, it's dangerous. You could have gotten in an accident, young lady.”
Taking a gulp of the juice, it burned all the way down my throat. But the sensation was oddly comforting to the soreness there.
“I know, Dad. I came here because I’m worried about you.”
“Why? You know I’m working nights at the plant. What could happen to me? I should be sleeping.”
“Why aren’t you sleeping?”
The question seemed to confuse him. “I had the strangest dream and it disturbed me.” He pondered that for a moment. “I think it did anyway.”
“I have something here.” Taking the messenger bag off my shoulder, I put it on the kitchen counter and extracted a plant from inside. I tore off some of the leaves and placed them in the mortar and pestle that sat in the corner near the spice rack. After mixing in some olive oil, I ground the leaves to a paste.
“What are you doing?” Dad asked. “Don’t think you’re going to distract me from your illegal driving, Kizzy.”
“Dad, please,” I insisted. “We need to apply this poultice to the wound on your shoulder.”
“How do you know about that?”
Crossing to him, I pulled back the collar of the shirt and peeled back the bandage. The area around the wound was already significantly redder than the last time I’d seen it.
“This stuff will heal it real fast,” I said.
After pushing him into one of the kitchen chairs, I reached into the mortar and slid my fingers through to scoop up a glob of the mixture. I applied the goop of Downy Woundwort poultice to Dad’s shoulder and packed in on. I retrieved the first aid kit from the bathroom and dressed the wound with a bandage.
“It does feel better,” Dad said. “But what is it?”
“An herbal remedy.” I took two more plants from my bag. “Mix up a poultice and apply this stuff to your shoulder at least two more times in the next two days”
“Honey, I think all this is unnecessary.”
“Please. Promise me.”
“It’s just a scratch. I’ll be okay.”
“Dad. Think. How did you get it?”
“Well, like I said. I had a weird dream. I think it made me walk in my sleep I woke up outside in the courtyard with this scratch.”
“Did you dream of a white blond haired woman-like creature who bit you?” I asked.
His eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know?”
“Dad, you were bitten by a ghoul. If you don’t treat this you’ll go crazy. Please trust me on this.”
“I must have told you about the dream before,” he said with a laugh. “That’s right. I just mentioned my dream to you.”
“But you didn’t mention the creature,” I reminded him.
“I must have.” He chuckled. “Funny. A ghoul. You had me going there for a minute.” He patted my hand.
“Please, just apply this stuff two more times. You don’t have to believe in the ghoul. Just do it. If you love me you’ll do it.” My eyes bored into his and I tried to pour every bit of seriousness into my gaze that I could muster.
Finally, he nodded. “Okay, honey. I promise.”
“Did you see how I made the poultice with these leaves and the olive oil?”
“Yes, Kizzy.” By his tone, he was clearly humoring me.
Pressing my lips to his cheek, I prayed he would follow through with his promise.
“I have to go, Dad.”
“Don’t think you’re going to avoid a talk about your driving.”
“Later okay? I have to get somewhere fast or the world will collapse on me.” At the front door, I turned and glanced back at my dad standing in the hall.
“Sure, sure.” He smiled. “You go. I have to get some sleep anyway.”
With one last lingering gaze, I opened the door and went outside. Once there, I decided to run back to the wormhole house. It might not be as fast as driving but at least it would be safer and less likely to get me thrown in jail.
Although I told my legs to move like a zooming rocket, I’d never won any track meets and never would. I ran over the uneven bricks that made up the sidewalk of Dad’s block. As I navigated around a square littered with people enjoying the sunshine for
a fresh air lunch hour, my breath churned not just with the physical exertion but also with fear. Would I get back in time to go forward in time?
After about ten minutes, I arrived at the wormhole house and ran through the courtyard to the spiral staircase. However, when I rounded the corner, I discovered a major problem. The stairs were not where they had been. The entire metal section had broken away from the house and had fallen on its side. The flight of stairs leaned with the bottom half on the ground and the top touching the side of the house.
Damn, damn, damn. This wasn’t good. Something serious had shaken that thing loose.
Quickly, I scanned, searching the place for an alternate way to the upper floor veranda. Nothing seemed possible without climbing equipment to grapple my way up. I elected to climb the spiral staircase to the highest point where it leaned against the wall and then try to make the almost five foot leap to the veranda balustrade.
Since the staircase was on its side, I didn’t have the security of treads to mount. Instead, I scaled the edges of the steps and the winding banister. The structure wobbled and jiggled beneath me. I knew it wouldn’t take much for the metal section to topple completely to the ground with me pinned beneath it.
When I reached the summit of “mount metal”, I managed to pull myself to an unsteady standing position. With feet planted on the sides of separate stair treads, I prepared myself. This distance would have been much easier with a running start. Since I didn’t have one, I tried to create some momentum with swinging arm movement. As I brought my arms forward, with the staircase lurching beneath me, I leaped.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I leaped…and didn’t land exactly. I didn’t fall either. More precisely, I ended up clinging to the wrought iron balustrade over my head as my feet dangled. But my feet didn’t find anything to lever against since they were probably between the ceiling and the floor of the lower veranda.
To the left was one of the columns. If I could get my foot on that before I lost all feeling in my upper arms…
Somehow I managed to wedge the ball of my left foot on the column and used it to lift with my leg as I pulled with my arms. I finally came, with shaking legs, to a standing position on the edge of the veranda. I inched along that tiny edge until I got to the gap left by the loss of the metal stairs.
Once on the veranda, reaching the window to the bedroom wasn’t hard. The sight of the rope still attached where I’d left it was a thrill. The beam that had semi-blocked the entrance to the hall when Rom and I had crossed it with Namia stood in the same place. Gripping the rope like a banister, I ducked under the beam and entered the hall.
Although much more debris littered the floor, and the walls—not to mention ceiling—had more holes than Swiss cheese, there was no more undulating movement. No pitching and rolling of the floor. This lack of movement freaked me out.
What was happening? Had the wormhole collapsed? If so, was I trapped in the past? If I went further down the hall, could I be permanently stuck in some kind of limbo?
Clinging to the rope, I moved forward almost tiptoeing, and not just because of the gaps in the floorboards. Somehow I was afraid to create any vibration with my presence.
Without the movement of the walls and floor to distract me, I noticed that the rope I held, although taut, disappeared at a point about one foot ahead of me. When I walked that distance the rope was still there but disappeared another foot ahead. Having forgotten to breathe there for a few seconds, I consciously dragged in air and proceeded on.
Just as I reached the middle point of the passage, the hall began to shake and quake. Plaster and other materials fell on my head and around me. I felt the rope behind me fall limp. Terror coursed through me and I started to run. A sound like a freight train caused me to glance over my shoulder. The hall behind me was rolling up like a huge cosmic rug and that roll was about to overtake me.
“Rom,” I screamed, having no idea whether he would be able to hear me.
The rope ahead of me jerked hard, lifting me off my feet and hauling me, flying, forward. The weightlessness behind me also buoyed my body upward.
In front of me, I saw Rom, Zen, Petra, Senji and Chase partially within the hall, heaving at the rope hand over hand. Zen glanced up and his eyes widened and mouth dropped open, but he did not miss a beat towing in the rope.
Something nipped at my toes and I felt the tennis shoe on my right foot fly away. A tug of war waged. Which would win, my friends or the black void?
At the end of the hall my body hit Rom and the others as if I were a bowling ball and they were pins. All of us tumbled end over end down the stairs and into a pile atop one another on the landing at the bottom. As we struck, I heard the rolling freight train of the wormhole crashing above followed by complete silence.
My neck wasn’t broken and it seemed that, except for my shoe, nothing was missing. A laugh broke from me. Underneath me, Rom lifted his head and began laughing too. Zen, who lay under Rom, opened his eyes and chuckled. His chuckle quickly turned to a full-blown laugh. His arms came up around both Rom and me. Lying on the floor, we rocked in a giant hug as we continued laughing hysterically.
“I’m glad you guys think this is funny,” Petra said from under Zen. “But I’m being crushed here.”
“You think you have a complaint,” Senji, who was under Petra, drawled. “I’m lying on top of Chase and I think I’m turning him on.”
“Wait til I get out of here, Senji,” Chase yelled. “Turn on? I’ll tune you up, dude.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sparring with vampires, fighting with shape shifters, warring with ghouls... All that paled in comparison to the terror I felt as Zen’s van turned the corner to my home block and pulled to a stop at the curb.
“I'm sorry, Kizzy,” Senji said in the back of the van. He closed his cell phone. “Franky's still dead.”
My heart fell and bounced against my stomach.
“But there's one difference,” Senji continued. “He died in his sleep at home.”
So I had changed history, but not enough to save poor Franky. Had anything else changed?
What would I find in my own house?
After opening the passenger door and jumping out, I barreled across the sidewalk and up the steps only to find the front door locked. My hand shook as I extracted the key from its hiding place under a pot and tried to insert it into the lock. Rom finally took the key from my hand and opened the door for me.
Once inside, I dashed around scanning each room as Rom followed.
“Mom,” I yelled. My heart pounded so hard in my chest it sounded to my ears like the base of a rock band drum.
“I’m up here, honey,” Mom called from upstairs but I barely heard her because, through the French doors in the kitchen overlooking the courtyard, I spotted a small boy with familiar blond hair.
Scrambling to get through the doors, I screamed, “Adam.”
The blond head came up and my brother fixed me with wide blue eyes that immediately lit with a happy fire.
Kizzy,” he squealed and ran toward me.
Dizziness swamped me. Was this real?
Kneeling down, I waited for Adam's beloved weight to ram me before I wrapped my arms around him and swept him up into a twirling hug. One, two, three times we turned in a happy circle.
“Your arms are too tight,” Adam finally complained.
With my face pressed into his little neck, I luxuriated in the chocolate, soap and dirt smell of him. The feel of his small arms around my shoulders produced such a wide smile I thought my face would crack.
“Kizzy.” He wiggled. “You’re squeezing me.”
“I’m sorry.” I set him down on his feet. My fingers sifted through his silky hair. “I thought you were a tube of toothpaste.”
“You only have one shoe,” Adam noted, pointing at my foot.
“I gave it to a one-legged man,” I said.
Adam giggled. When he saw Rom, the smile fell from his face he sidled shy
ly around to hide behind my leg.
“This is my friend,” I said. “His name is Rom.”
“Hello Adam,” Rom said. “I understand you have the liking for dinosaurs.”
Adam peeked around my leg.
“They are to my liking, also. In fact, a T. Rex inhabits my household room.”
Venturing out from behind me, Adam moved directly in front of Rom.
“T. Rex is cool.” Adam reached into his pocket and took out a plastic toy. “My favorite is the Pterodactyl.” He offered the toy to Rom for inspection.
“A very fine specimen.” Rom turned the dinosaur over in his hands before giving it back to Adam.
A figure strode around the corner of the house into the courtyard from the outdoor gate. My father. The dad I’d always known before the bridge. The handsome dad. The hero dad.
“Hey kids,” my father called.
Before he could say more, I threw my arms around his neck and held on tight as I fought off sudden tears.
“Wow. It’s not often an old dad gets such a warm welcome.” Dad laughed. “In fact, I don't think I've ever come to pick you up for visitation and been greeted so nicely. Should I be worried you’ve done something I’m not going to approve of?”
“Of course not. You know I’m perfect.” Pulling back I glanced down to hide my expression.
Dad offered his hand to Rom, who took it in a shake.
“You’re Kizzy’s friend.”
“Rom, sir.”
“No more drama class scene rehearsals I hope.”
“No sir,” Rom said with a quirky smile.
“Good.” Dad fixed him with a steady glare. “I’d still like to have a conversation with you.”
“Dad,” I warned. “Please don’t embarrass me.” Unfortunately, I spoiled it all by grinning. For some reasons his dadness made me happy.
“Okay, okay. Another time.” Dad kneeled down to address Adam. “Well, big guy. Are you ready to go?”
Adam giggled and nodded.
“We’re going to get ice cream.” My brother peered up at me.