Approaching Storm (Alternate Worlds Book 2)

by Taylor Leigh

  Her father appeared at her side. He shut his handheld with a snap and grinned widely before giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘Well kiddo, shall we be off?’

  Sam made little effort to appear excited, but she was anxious to get off the shuttle and back onto solid ground. She could sit and breathe recirculated air no longer. However, the passengers were slow to filter out. The queue had no order, and moved in an uneven flow; it did little to lessen Sam’s impatience to escape the confining walls of the shuttle.

  Finally, Brock saw a gap and jumped for it. He waiting for Sam to extract herself and her bulky carry-on from the tight seat, and then they both started down the aisle towards the exit door.

  Her pace slowed as she reached the hatch. At the opening, she paused, suddenly frozen. This was her first—and she knew, only—time to step on the soil of a new world. For a brief moment, none of it mattered. Not how unhappy about the move she was, not what was ahead for her. This was something special, something incredible, and she couldn’t fight the emotions that welled up in her, and the strangeness of it. Actually landing on a completely different planet, with different air and different plants and different people! A whole new world, a whole new life, lay just beyond her. All she had to do was take one more step. She clutched her bag close and, with beating heart, slowly took the steep steps. Her pulse raced. And with those few steps, she’d crossed the line from familiar to unknown. With nervous apprehension, she raised her eyes.

  It was bright outside. Bright and hot. The station was the same as all the other structures Sam had seen from up above, made out of seamless black stone and wrought iron, open to the air. Alien, yet familiar. She caught a glimpse of mountains above the heads of the crowd; to her disappointment, there wasn’t much to see besides that.

  It was not at all a welcoming look, and Sam thought it rather horrible to have the stern prison-like architecture as the first thing travellers would see when they arrived. It made sense, knowing Scrabians were not overly hospitable to travellers from Scottorr. Of course that would not be written in any travel guide, but it was, if not common knowledge, rather obvious if one paid any attention. They wanted her here just about as badly as she wanted to be.

  She watched the crowds, moving about every which-way, before realising she was automatically scanning the platform for the thin form of her companion. She shook herself, knowing it would be next to impossible to find him in the flood of bodies. Yet her eyes still darted about restlessly, suddenly much more interested in finding him than leaving the terminal.

  The majority of the people pulling their luggage behind them, or staring up at the video screens to figure out their flight times were dressed in classic Scrabian fashion. Even most of the people who had disembarked from their shuttle had been dressed in the drab grey unisuits or billowing robes that were so common on the planet. Sam was struck, painfully aware of how her Scottorrian clothing stood out in the drab crowd. Yet it was her last remnant of her home. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready to let go of it.

  ‘Guess we better find a cab. I’m looking forward to you seeing our new flat,’ her father said. ‘The company neighbourhood is rather nice. Gated, two storey, near the centre of town. Best part is we’re already moved in. The company really has gone out of its way to make us feel at home.’

  He was bursting from excitement at the idea. Sam had her doubts, but kept them to herself. She’d learnt long ago that if there was something sugar-coated, her father would be blind to it.

  Mr Turner looked round the station, reading the signs above the different terminals. These were all written in the close, scratchy characters of Scrabia and then much fainter underneath was the long, swooping Scottorrian writing. Sam gazed down the long hallway and narrowed her eyes to read some of the farthest writing. She noticed one of the largest iron gates read at the end read, “City Transportation” above it and pointed it out to her father.

  ‘Worth a shot. Hopefully the company has already sent something down for us; we may not have to wait long.’

  Sam thought it rather doubtful as she stared at the huge crowd, but decided to keep quiet about the matter. She didn’t want to spoil her father’s excited mood. This move was good for him and continuing to complain about it was just a waste of breath at this point.

  There was, as Sam expected, a great deal of people trying to get through the gate, in an unorderly fashion any Scottorian would have balked at. She and her father finally managed to squeeze through the tightly packed mob and made it into the transportation station.

  It was overwhelmingly confusing inside, lacking the elegant order of most stations she was used to. Different company signs glowed overhead, flashing details and sales. No directions or helpful maps were to be found.

  Brock had his handheld out again and was reading intently over something, occasionally glancing up at the different signs. ‘Look for something that says Economy Flyer,’ he muttered, turning round to see if they’d passed it on their way in.

  Sam stood on her tiptoes and frowned. There were too many companies, too many postcodes, too many choices! It was a mess. At last, tucked into an alcove, Sam noticed the Economy Flyer booth. It had a polished black stone table and gleaming white on the countertop. Sam tapped her father on the arm and pointed across the room at it.

  He gave her a big smile. ‘Great work. Never would have spotted that on my own. They don’t seem to want people knowing about their company!’

  With a spring in his step, Sam’s dad started across the room towards the booth and pulled up behind another couple that had managed to find it as well. Up above, on the wall behind the counter, videos of sleek vehicles in black with red and white highlights raced by in the dark. Extremely handsome businessmen reclined against the hoods of the machines, loosening their ties and running fingers through their hair. Sam frowned. She highly doubted that any of the transport vehicles they were going to be assigned would race like that. It didn’t seem a very effective advert campaign.

  When the couple in front of them took their card and left the desk, Sam and her father walked up and she got a good look at the woman behind the counter. She was exotic and stoic, with hair piled up on her head like a cone and makeup plastered on her skin in a thick layer.

  She didn’t speak, but gazed at Sam’s father expectantly. He dug in his pocket for a moment then handed to her a slightly crumpled card. Her black lips flattened in disapproval.

  ‘Mr Brock. The Cavern Water Company should have transport reserved in my name.’

  She looked slightly doubtful of this, but took the card. Without speaking, the woman punched something in on the computer with lightning speed and tapped her long nails on the desk while she waited for the machine to respond. Finally the computer blipped and she read over it.

  ‘Ah, you’ll be in transport number three. Thank you for choosing us; have a nice day.’ The woman didn’t look up during her entire speech, but handed the card back between black nails. Even though her tone had been painfully boring, Sam had liked the accent it carried. It was a reminder that she was no longer home. This was no longer the same world.

  She told herself to get over it.

  They wound their way down several halls till they were faced with another open-air pavilion with a circular drive, packed with transports.

  ‘Right, let’s try and find our cab. Should have a blue decal with a bird of some sort on it,’ Brock muttered.

  They walked past the stands of busses to a large selection of idling cabs. Projected above each machine were icons flashing company names and expected passengers. These cabs, Sam took note, were much less sleek than the others. At the far end, the bird icon of the Economy Flyer shimmered in the morning light, with their name flickering beneath.

  Sam’s father gave out a triumphant cry and marched forward with a little more assurance. A cabbie—who Sam just now noticed—was leaning against the vehicle. He nodded curtly, studying the produced card, before opening the door with a tuneless hum.

&n
bsp; Sam slid inside after her father and took in the faded leather seats and worn interior. Cracked wood panels lined the wall, illuminated by a soft blue-white glow. It must have retired long ago from its life as a luxury model.

  ‘Wow, now this is nice,’ Brock said, running his fingers over a wooden armrest. ‘They’re really rolling out the red carpet for us, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Sam forced another smile. She couldn’t tell if her father was simply going along with it, or if he truly did not see the worn-down state of things.

  The boot shut with a thunk! causing both Sam and her father to turn round and watch the cabbie walk towards the driver’s side of the vehicle. The door swung open and he popped his head in. ‘The coordinates are already set, sir. Hope your stay on Scrabia is safe!’ With that, the man tipped his hat again and shut the door and walked away from the automobile.

  ‘Not likely,’ Sam muttered under her breath, watching him go, puzzled.

  Her father settled back in his seat. ‘These cabs are a bit different from the ones back one, Sam. Just a warning.’

  She furrowed her brow in confusion, but then blinked in surprise as the machine started up and pulled away from the kerb by itself. She watched the cabbie behind them, lighting up to smoke and turned back to see the car pull to a stop to wait for the oncoming traffic to slow. ‘Okay, this is a little weird.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Her dad laughed. ‘I was completely boggled the first time I rode in one, too. They reportedly have the least amount of accidents compared to any other transport technology.’

  ‘Comforting,’ Sam mumbled, watching the street as they pulled out and made a right. ‘Think I prefer trains.’

  Brock shrugged. ‘People who are rich enough to afford their own vehicles can buy ones that drive manually. Most people just sign up for membership with a transport company in their area and go that way. Lucky we live in a company neighbourhood, aye?’

  Sam made a face. She didn’t think it a very efficient system and was grateful her school would be within walking distance. She didn’t want to rely on whether or not a machine would arrive on time.

  Sam watched in hesitant curiosity as they all eerily stopped and drove in the same easy flow. The dashboard in their car flashed as it talked to the other vehicles around it. It was disturbing. Sam would much rather have walked than trusted her life to the machine she was trapped in.

  To distract herself, Sam turned her attention to the neighbourhoods they were passing through, hoping to see something of interest. She was disappointed. Almost every building was square and black, made out of the same stone that was everywhere.

  They passed by the heart of town, where the court house and gallows were positioned and travelled steadily down towards their future home. The machine swerved around a giant boulder inexplicably setting in the centre of the road. Sam turned round to stare at it, but her eyes fell on a house directly to its right. It was a familiar place, not the boxy identical things she saw on every corner. It looked like a Scottorrian house, made of stacked stone instead of flat, smooth walls. So, she’d managed to find something to appreciate. A tiny bit of home. The thought made her smile. At least someone here wasn’t conforming.

  ‘Oh, you see that place?’ Brock said, leaning forward to point at the house. ‘That’s where the company chose for the new office. I’ll be working there once it’s finished. Imagine, my own place! Well, me and every other technician, but I’ll be head of the lot.’

  She began to turn back, and then she saw him: A figure, leaning up against the fence surrounding the property. He looked up just as they passed and she felt a desperate shock go through her. It was the stranger from the shuttle! Even if the windows were heavily tinted, Sam could have sworn he stared directly at her.

  What was he doing here?

  She had a mad urge to tell the driver to stop—but of course there was no driver. And, of course, no reason she had to be stopping. Yet as he looked up, she was torn. He’d spoken of possibilities. He’d spoken of living life. What path, full of odd possibilities, was he taking? What could he, with all of his claimed experience, be doing here, in the centre of a boring city? Just what was she missing?

  The cab dipped down the hill and he disappeared from sight. She fell back in her seat, disappointed, biting her bottom lip hard. His presence boiled in her mind like fire. They’d had so little time together, how could he possibly have imprinted himself on her consciousness so profoundly? Maddeningly, obsessively, Sam couldn’t shake the man’s stare from her mind; it pierced through her.

  As if her father had read her thoughts he suddenly said, ‘I saw you talking with that strange fellow on the flight down. You two seemed to have hit it off rather well. What was his name, again?’

  Sam stared out at the buildings flashing by, the same hollowness she’d felt when she’d parted ways with him once again filling her. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t catch it.’

  ‘Hmm.’ He fell back into distraction with his handheld.

  Sam rested her forehead against the glass, morosely, unable to come to terms with her peculiar emotions. She could not say for certain what about him had left such a searing impression on her. So why was she fighting down this odd disappointment at the thought of not seeing him again? And what a strange coincidence, seeing him again, at the same property her father’s company owned. Her mind was clearly overtired and she was no doubt suffering from severe jetlag. She huffed her breath.

  All of the travelling, new planet, new air, new pressure, hell she didn’t know. It had to mess with her head in some way.

  When they finally arrived and unpacked at their new home, Sam was exhausted. She was grateful most of their meagre furniture had been shipped down separately. Her room was already arranged. She wasn’t exactly happy with how it looked but that was something to bother with later. The flat was nothing Sam would consider special. It was just like all the others, black and square. The inside blank and impersonal. Complete with a spectacular view of the alley next door.

  After a brief walk round, Sam collapsed in her bed and fell asleep practically the second her eyes closed.

  It was not the rest she’d hoped for. Her dreams were haunted by deep, brown eyes and a nagging, miserable feeling she couldn’t grasp hold of; that she was missing something.

  It was late afternoon by the time Sam finally awoke. She felt dizzy, stiff. Her mouth tasted too dry, like sand. It was not her most ideal way to spend her first day on the new planet.

  The sense of wasting time finally pulled her from her bed. The urge to obey her brief companion’s advice to explore had begun to nag at the back of her mind and she found she couldn’t ignore it. She tromped down the stone stairs to find her father starting up the video projector.

  ‘Oh, Sam. I’m sorry but I’m just about to start up a conference call.’ He made a face. ‘I wanted to take a walk round the city with you this evening, but it looks like that plan is going to fall through.’

  Sam nodded, not at all surprised.

  Her father walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. ‘You can still go. See the sights. Maybe you can find a good restaurant for us to try out sometime.’

  Sam smiled. ‘Sure, there has to be at least one Scottorrian place here, right?’

  Brock laughed. ‘That’s the spirit! It’ll be good for you to get some air. I hear it gets bearably cool outside in the evening.’ He winked.

  Sam widened her eyes in mock horror. ‘You don’t think I’ll need my jumper, do you?’

  Brock shook his head, chuckling. ‘Go on, love. I’ve got to report in before they think our shuttle crashed or something. Have fun!’

  Sam grasped the door handle with uncertain, yet excited knots in her belly, and then stepped out into her hot new world.

  Chapter Two

  Sam did not know one street from the next, but she had stored in her memory the way to the old stone building she’d seen on her way in. That destination she’d burnt in her mind.

  She made her way down the bro
ken pavement along busy streets back towards the place, and an uneasy, nervous, excitement bubbled in her. As mental as it was, she couldn’t help but think that he was there for a reason other than to just have a look and she wanted to know why.

  The people walking past her were about as exciting as the buildings she’d seen. There was no sign of Scottorrian influence anywhere. No creativity, no colourful outfits, nothing familiar. Strange, since the planet hung so low in the sky, lighting up everything in cool light.

  She was surprised she did not lose her way, or run into any trouble, after all the stories she’d heard of this city, she’d expected it. She only had one small run-in with a woman walking a sleek, feisty little creature, which seemed desperate to pick a fight with her. Despite that, the streets were a lonely, deserted place, despite the many rows of identical houses.

  Sam crested the next hill and looked around her. She spotted the random boulder sitting in the centre of the road and again, wondered vaguely why someone would put it there. Perhaps it had fallen from Scottorr during the Passing and no-one had bothered to move it.

  Glancing across the road, Sam felt a smile spread across her face. There was the place. Only now did she see the state it was in: Running round the building was an old iron fence. Strapped to the front gate was a sign that read: “Hamill’s Construction and Renovation” and then several less friendly signs warning everyone to KEEP OUT.

  Sam looked both ways and at the first break in traffic, trotted across.

  She stared through the fence for a long time. For the life of her she couldn’t see anything particularly out of the ordinary about the place, and yet at the same moment…something gave her an odd, watching sense. Something just beyond the fence was waiting, looking back to her.