by Dale Mayer
Just then her foot banged into something hard, sending her downward where she cracked a knee against a rock. At least she assumed it was a rock. “Damn it.” She jumped up and danced around in one place, afraid she’d hit something else.
“Would someone please turn on the damn lights in this Godforsaken place?”
Instantly lights blazed, blinding her. Instinctively she slammed her hands over her eyes as they burned with the severe change. “Shit,” she whispered as she squinted between her fingers. The room glowed from a strange incredibly bright light source at the far side. Her eyes didn’t know what to do with it. Keeping her eyes shaded, she turned slowly to look around. There was no sign of her backpack or her stylus.
The room appeared to be a huge underground bunker. Or a cave, maybe? Yet she couldn’t see an entrance or an exit. And it was empty – except for her.
The reality of her situation set in.
She was a prisoner. But she had no idea where, or who held her here.
Or why.
*
Eric watched the dark mist thicken, dread overtaking his senses. What could have caused that look of absolute horror on Storey’s face? He stared hard at his father’s rotund and positively gleeful face. Until he caught Eric staring at him. Then his fat grin slid off, his nose strutted up into the air and a look of superior disdain came over his cold features. Yeah, that’s the normal expression Eric remembered.
The false face. It had taken Storey to show him the real man inside. It hadn’t been easy to see. And even harder to accept. Now he just felt stupid. He’d spent his life respecting a man who deserved none of it. And adding to Eric’s confusion was the realization he really didn’t know this man.
His father was a stranger. Eric hadn’t seen much parental love in his life. In reality, he’d had little contact with him. Since he learned to walk, he’d had respect and obedience drummed into him for a man he was only just realizing didn’t deserve it.
How had the Council allowed this man to rule? What could his father have done to deserve their respect? And couldn’t they see the man his father had become? Or had the changes happened so slowly that they hadn’t been evident – until some major disaster when he’d shown his true self. Then again, he’d been the ruler for so long because there wasn’t much to rule here. His decisions were mostly over little issues.
Still, Eric wondered about the man inside. Was he driven by power? Needing blind obedience from all like a dictator? Something Eric hadn’t considered his society could have.
Storey’s arrival had certainly thrown his father off balance. And had showed Eric a side of his father he’d never seen before.
Paxton on the other hand…. He glanced over at his mentor. Tufts of his white hair stood straight up, only this time from running his hands through it in excitement. Paxton was still on a high from the success of the day. His cheeks were flushed, and he appeared to be…dancing?
Eric continued to scan the partygoers. His people certainly were enjoying themselves. This mini war had restored pride they hadn’t known was missing from their lives. They’d slipped into a passive type of existence. This had woken them up, stirred them to action. They wouldn’t be quite so complacent about their lifestyle any longer. At least not for a while. And like them, Eric wanted to enjoy himself tonight. Celebrate today’s success.
But…
Eric shook his head and spun around again to look at the spot where Storey had disappeared. He couldn’t get the look on her face out of his mind. What could have caused it?
Paxton walked toward him, a lilt to his step, a bright look on his face. Eric had to grin. Paxton looked like he’d dropped twenty years off his shoulders.
“Eric! Still worrying about Storey? She’ll be fine.”
Eric shook his head. “It doesn’t feel like she’s fine.”
Paxton narrowed his gaze. “Do you want to go after her? Make sure she arrived safely?”
Eric contemplated his sense of something being wrong. Did he want to go after her? Heck yes. “I wouldn’t have to be gone long.” He studied his feet. Was there really something wrong? Or was he just missing her? Either way, he needed to know for sure. “I don’t want to make a big thing out of this if everything is fine.”
“We could just ask her if she’s home safe and sound.” Paxton held up his stylus, a wide smirk on his ancient face.
Perfect. Eric grinned widely, relief spreading throughout his body. “Perfect. Thanks.”
Paxton grabbed up a nearby pad of paper, his movements easy and carefree, as if knowing this was for naught but happy to play along. He quickly wrote out a note to Storey. Eric read the simple message. “Hello Storey, please confirm that you made it home safely.”
Lifting his head, Paxton beamed. “Amazing communication ability. I just love this. There’s so much we can learn from these styluses.”
He sounded positively chatty. Eric struggled to reconcile this Paxton with the grim, stern version from before the war. Talk about polar opposites.
“You know, my stylus knows all about the archives. Storey says they can access all the information from centuries ago. Do you understand how much we can learn from them?”
Eric raised an eyebrow as he finally noted the rosy cheeks and the overly bright shine to Paxton’s eyes. Had his old mentor and friend indulged in a little too much to drink? Surely not? Eric couldn’t remember seeing the man ever take a drink of wine.
But there was no doubt that he was under the influence of something. Maybe it was the power of success?
The stylus sat quietly as both men waited for an answer from Storey.
Eric’s gaze narrowed as the moment stretched out longer and longer. “Could something be wrong?”
“Well, anything is possible, but it’s unlikely. She’s done this trip dozens of times.”
“Ask your stylus if Storey’s stylus is in her dimension.”
“Why? We know it is.” Some of the brightness dimmed in the older man’s eyes. “You really think something is wrong?”
“If it isn’t, then why hasn’t she answered by now?”
“Maybe she’s sleeping.”
Eric blinked. Good answer. Why hadn’t he thought of that? It was late. Storey had been on an incredible adrenaline rush, helping him and his men to save his world. Going home would have brought on a major crash and burn cycle. She might simply be asleep.
No! His mind screamed at him. Storey would have contacted him to let him know she’d arrived safely. She knew he’d be worried about her. There’s no way she wouldn’t do that.
“Please, just ask.”
Shaking his head, tufts of white hair flipping out in all directions, Paxton picked up the stylus and wrote the question.
The answer was immediate. “No.”
Both men shouted, “No?”
“Why not?” Paxton glared at the single word he’d written down. “She has to be.”
Eric knew his father had been up to something. But what? “Where is her stylus? Maybe it’s still here.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be. Not unless she’s here, too.” The answer came back immediately. Paxton read out the answer. “No. Storey and her stylus are not in this dimension.”
The two men stared at each other in shock.
“We’ve been having problems with the gate so maybe something malfunctioned,” Paxton mumbled.
“Ask where she is, please.” Eric tried to contain his impatience. Though Storey had been willing and eager to find out information through her new pen as she thought of it, Paxton clung to the old ways and asking a simple instrument for help wasn’t instinctive – or natural. The styluses could communicate with each other, but Eric thought Storey’s was stronger and more capable. Or maybe Storey was stronger and more capable than Paxton.
He’d verbalized the questions before but now seemed to be only able to write down the questions. Either way, Paxton was working too slowly for Eric right now.
Paxton slowly wrote the question on the pap
er as if not wanting to hear the answer. The stylus never moved.
“See, there’s no answer.” Paxton sighed. “It must be a broken gate. Maybe it can’t get a reading.”
“What are you doing over there?”
Eric stiffened, a subconscious effect of his father’s approach. He didn’t dare look his sire in the eye, afraid that his suspicions would get the better of him. Surely his father wouldn’t have willfully done anything to hurt Storey.
Yes, he would have.
This was the man who had once ordered her imprisonment and death. Eric’s instincts screamed at him. Stay silent. Things were bad but they could get so much worse.
Paxton opened his mouth to answer and caught Eric’s glare. Slowly, as if not understanding, Paxton dropped his gaze to study the paper in front of him.
“We were talking strategy,” Eric answered calmly enough.
His father tilted his head upward. “Why bother? The problem’s been solved. It’s not going to happen again, so sure, hash over your success, then let it go. I won’t have anyone wasting their time on such things now that the war is over.”
“And if the war isn’t over?”
“Don’t say that,” the Councilman snapped at his only son. “It’s over. That subject doesn’t come up again, do you hear me?”
Eric struggled to keep back the words ready to blast out of his mouth. Setting his father off wouldn’t do anyone any good at this point. With a clipped nod, and a last warning look at Paxton, he walked away from the men, determined to catch Paxton alone later. He needed to focus on Storey, now.
Keeping an eye on the happy partygoers still around, he checked his codex. How long had she been gone? One hour, not more. Too bad he didn’t have a stylus of his own. It would be a great way to talk with her. How else were they going to communicate when they each lived in a different dimension? He had methods that worked in his dimension. Her cell phone worked in hers. But only the stylus was capable of crossing both dimensions. Checking behind him, he heard raised voices coming from his father and Paxton. Uh oh, someone isn’t happy.
Well, neither was he. He strode back across the room to the two fighting men. His father saw him coming and rounded on him first. “I do not want to hear any more about that girl from you. She is gone and she is not allowed back in our world. Do you understand?”
Fury built inside Eric to the point that he could actually see black spots as he tried to find some measure of control. Releasing his rage at the Councilman, father or not, was liable to be a final step he wasn’t sure he was prepared to take.
“No. That is not acceptable.”
Eric blinked. What? Had Paxton really stood up for Storey? At one point, he’d been firm that she should return to her world and stay there. For good.
Paxton pulled up to his full height. In an authoritative voice, he stated, “Storey has been a valuable contributor to our world this past week. We have much we can learn from her.”
“She caused the dratted problems in the first place. I do not want her back. Do you hear me?”
“I think everyone here heard you.” Eric couldn’t hold back his own anger, noting that half the partygoers were leaving and the other half were starting to collect around the arguing men.
The Councilman rounded on him, fire leaping from his eyes. “You. I’ve heard all I’m going to from you. I’m not sure why you think it’s suddenly acceptable to argue with me, but there is no way I can consider your actions in any good light. That this young woman should have had such a disagreeable affect on you is unacceptable. You need to learn your place.”
With narrowed eyes, he drew himself up to his full height. That it was many inches shorter than Eric’s only made his action more laughable. No one within hearing distance could doubt that the Councilman was ready to hand out another final edict.
He opened his mouth.
“No.” Paxton stood firm. “You will not punish him.” Glaring at the rotund Councilman, Paxton shook his head. “You cannot. Eric is a hero to our people, as is Storey. They have become icons of hope, faith and courage. They deserve your recognition, your respect and even medals of valor for their actions.”
As Paxton’s words faded away, the gathering crowd picked up the energy and started to cheer, calling out Eric’s name.
Eric. Eric. Eric.
Eric had to grin at the consternation on his father’s face. The Councilman hadn’t expected resistance. Especially from old Senator Paxton, a title the scientist never used, but still possessed; or from his own people. A red flush whispered across his father’s face, his beady eyes going hard and bright with fury before sliding into cold determination. As Eric watched and waited, wondering what his father would do next, it was as if a switch had been thrown and his father settled back down.
Eric’s suspicions rose again.
His father turned to face him, straightening to his full height. “So be it. We’ll come up with some way to reward you for your actions, Eric.”
Eric frowned. The words sounded right. The tone of voice definitely didn’t. His father was up to something.
“And for Storey?” he asked, cautiously hoping his father would let something more slip.
“Oh, yes. Storey is getting everything that’s coming to her.”
Just then several things happened.
Paxton’s stylus started moving in the air. Paxton raced to snatch up a useable piece of paper to write on.
His father grinned a sly, slow movement that sent shivers down Eric’s spine. Then he turned and strode out of the room.
Chapter 2
Storey sat with her back against the dirt wall. Stumped. How could she get out of this mess? Her backpack was missing and her pockets were empty.
Panic sat on the edge of her consciousness, waiting to take over. She’d come to rely on the stylus and sketchbook so much that she found herself at a loss. Her simple codex, not like the high-tech one that Eric wore, didn’t appear to be functioning either. That hadn’t stopped her from pushing all the buttons several times, hoping to recreate the same musical combination Eric had used, but the instrument made no sound.
Had the Councilman switched hers for a broken codex? Or were the thick prison walls preventing the codex from functioning? It had been a hellish couple of days, leaving no time to study the wrist units. She’d figured Eric could give her some one-on-one training in a week or two. When things had calmed down.
Not great planning on her part.
And if she couldn’t use her stylus to draw her way out of here, or portal her way back through the codex’s abilities, she was literally stuck here with only old fashioned methods of escape. Now if only she knew what they were.
With no weapons or anything to make a weapon from, it’s a good thing she had yet to see her captors. For all intents and purposes, she’d been dumped into a hole in the ground and forgotten.
A horrible thought and one she really didn’t want to dwell on.
If only she had her stylus. She could only hope whoever had it was taking care of it. There were souls in there. Souls that needed care.
Wait.
She had been able to communicate verbally with her stylus, at least while she’d been holding it. She’d still had to write the answers down, but…maybe she could scratch a message in the dirt? Their bond was strong and they would eventually be able to communicate telepathically – when her skills developed further.
It was worth a try. But what did she have to scratch in the dirt with? The tab on her jacket zipper caught her eye. Made from hard metal, it had ripped half off already. With a hard tug, she pulled the tab off. Walking back to where she’d first regained consciousness, she squatted and scratched in the ground, Stylus, can you hear me?
Silence.
Pressing harder, she scratched again. Stylus, I’m in trouble. Can you help?
More silence.
Damn it. Fear started an insidious slide inside her mind. She tried again, harder, almost making her fingers bleed with the att
empt. Stylus. I need help. Contact Paxton. I need Eric’s help to escape.
Nothing.
What had she expected? She bowed her head.
Essentially, she’d been tossed into a hellhole and no one knew. Except…maybe the Councilman. The man was a power hungry toad. Remembering the look of satisfaction in his beady eyes as she disappeared to God knew where sent more shivers down her spine. It also had another effect.
Anger and pride rose to battle the loneliness and fear. She would not let him win.
She refused.
*
Paxton let his stylus move freely across the page. Eric crowded behind him, trying to read the message as it came through.
Storey is calling for help.
Both men gasped. Paxton quickly scratched out a question. “Where is she?”
Not here.
“We know that. Is she at her home?” Eric snapped, worry making his voice sharper than he intended.
No.
Paxton frowned. “Is she in her home dimension?”
No.
Horror rose in Eric’s stomach and was matched by the horror in Paxton’s eyes. “Do you know where she is?”
No.
“Then how did you know to contact us?”
Her stylus says she is trying to contact Eric.
Excitement whistled through Eric. He knew Storey would find a way to contact him. They’d rescue her yet. “Why can’t her stylus bring her home?”
Silence.
With growing unease, Eric said to Paxton, “Ask if Storey has her stylus with her.”
Eyes wide, Paxton did as requested. The answer wasn’t long in coming.
No.
Both men shook their heads. Eric frowned, trying to figure out how this communication worked. “Then how did the stylus know that Storey is trying to contact us?”
Paxton’s jumped in with another question first. “So Storey can communicate with her stylus, even though she’s not touching it?”
With the souls in it.
Both men cried out in unison. “Soul bound.”
Paxton then asked, “Then where is Storey’s stylus?”
We don’t know.
Eric pushed forward with the questions. “But you can communicate with it, correct?”