WHEELS

by Lorijo Metz

  WHEELS

  By Lorijo Metz

  “It is possible to believe that all the past is but the beginning of a beginning…”

  —H.G. Wells, Nature (February 6, 1902)

  ***

  Copyright © 2012 by Lorijo Metz

  ISBN: 978-0-9838103-1-5

  ASIN: B007RGPGH2

  To find out more about the author please visit:

  http://www.lorijometz.com

  License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. For those who may take issue: H.G. Wells did have a sister but her name was Fanny and, I believe, she died at the age of nine. With the exception of being a writer, there is little resemblance between the character named H.G. Wells in this story and the real H.G. Wells. Though perhaps, indeed, there is (or was) an H.G. Wells living in a parallel universe of which my H.G. Wells is an exact copy. If so, I apologize.

  Dedication

  To T-Metz: For you and only you…forever.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Table of Contents

  A Note From The Author

  Ch 1: Back In The Game

  Ch 2: Things That Go Bump

  Ch 3: Hurricanes & Daydreams

  Ch 4: Alien Skin & Accident Victims

  Ch 5: Daydreams & Dilly-Dallying

  Ch 6: Far, Far, Away…

  Ch 7: Mixed Molecules

  Ch 8: Vanished

  Ch 9: Connections

  Ch 10: Awakenings

  Ch 11: Loonocks & Epoks & Loons, Oh My!

  Ch 12: Nasty Tasks & Unwelcome News

  Ch 13: Promised Rewards

  Ch 14: It’s Good To Be The King

  Ch 15: Sunlight & Revelations

  Ch 16: The Last Gathering

  Ch 17: Where In The World…

  Ch 18: Is That A Pinicolis In Your Pocket?

  Ch 19: Soliis

  Ch 20: Nightmares

  Ch 21: A Van, A Man & A Dog

  Ch 22: Concentric, The Great Creator

  Ch 23: Leaders & Liars

  Ch 24: Are We There Yet?

  Ch 25: Patience Is A Virtue

  Ch 26: Fists, Fights & Fleeing Tsendi

  Ch 27: Truth & Consequences

  Ch 28: Insights

  Ch 29: Hoop Dreams & Tsootballs

  Ch 30: Surprise Visits

  Ch 31: Surprise Visits Times Two

  Ch 32: Checkmate

  Ch 33: War Games & Bad Relations

  Ch 34: Hitches…

  Ch 35: …& Tagalongs

  Ch 36: Choosing Teams

  Ch 37: All Quiet On The Western Front

  Ch 38: When Women Knew Their Place

  Ch 39: Lost In Space

  Ch 40: Keeping Up With The Tsendi

  Ch 41: High Tea

  Ch 42: Lost & Found

  Ch 43: Boom-Daga, Boom-Daga…

  Ch 44: Tremos & Turning Points

  Ch 45: Stubborn, Frustrating, Pig-Headed…!

  Ch 46: Revelations & Realizations

  Ch 47: Time To Take Action

  Ch 48: Out Of The Frying Pan

  Ch 49: Reunions

  Ch 50: Disappearing Tricks

  Ch 51: Beginnings

  Ch 52: Valios!

  Ch 53: The Man In Black

  Cast Of Characters

  Glossary

  In The Beginning

  Acknowledgements

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  As WHEELS is a story in which time revolves,

  is traveled through,

  and sometimes paused—

  The author begs a moment of your time to note:

  *

  Our story,

  both on Earth and on the planet Circanthos,

  occurs over a five-day period,

  in the month of March,

  mid 21st Century.

  *

  FBI Agent Wink Krumm’s personal log

  covers the same five days.

  His interviews begin three weeks later.

  Chapter 1

  DIARY OF JULIANNE WELLS

  1 January 1896, London, England

  The words I entrust to your honorable pages must remain a secret between you and me; my beloved’s life depends upon it. Even now I tremble, fearful, lest my words fall into the wrong hands.

  Six months ago to this very day, an event of such astounding proportions occurred beneath this very room, that though I dare not commit it to paper—I find I must! For, as with any secret forbidden to share, I am bursting to tell it.

  At precisely two minutes before the hour of six o’clock in the morning I opened the door to my brother’s study, never to imagine it would be the last day I set eyes on his horrible countenance.

  I say precisely, for it was always upon the hour of six, neither a minute fore, nor a second aft, that my brother, Herbert G. Wells, insisted a cup of Keemun tea (four lumps sugar, two splashes of cream) be delivered to him in his study, lest I suffer to be reminded I remain under this roof only by the goodness of his kind favor.

  Feminine intuition must have alerted me, for I’d hurried through my morning ritual only to find myself standing outside his study door, tea in hand, four minutes before the hour.

  I stood there, chiding myself for rushing and debating whether it were better to present his tea early and hot, or on time and tepid, when suddenly I became aware of an unusual sound emanating from behind the door. A sound I can only describe as the beating of a very large heart. In view of the fact I was sure to receive a reprimand either way, I entered my brother’s study.

  Herbert had spent the past year researching mathematical theories of time and space. A theme he had revisited with some frequency over the years and one he had written about in a rather forgettable short story several years prior. This time, however, the result was a spectacular story involving an eccentric character and his invention, a time traveling machine.

  Shortly after the book was published, Herbert set aside all writing and began working on his own bronze, throne-like contraption adorned with crystals and ivory, bells and whistles, levers and dials of various sizes—all, according to my dear brother, “Far too technical for feminine experience to comprehend.”

  But I digress…

  ***

  BACK IN THE GAME

  Avondale High School Gymnasium

  McKenzie remained in the game, but her brain had split in two. Part of it remained fully committed to winning, while the other part slipped into a tiny, parallel universe. A universe focused solely on Penny Nickels’ mouth—or rather, where her mouth should have been.

  Back on the court, wheels turned, chairs crashed and the ball remained in play. The smell of sweat and burning rubber filled the air.

  Crap! ...was McKenzie’s first thought as her chair tipped sideways—a crash and run by an overly enthusiastic opponent.

  BooYa! ...her second, as she caught the pass, flipped her chair upright and scored three more points from the top of the key.

  The bleachers burst with the deafening roar of cheers, boos and the groan of metal straining under the weight of hundreds of people jumping to their feet. Thanks to McKenzie, the Warriors had once again taken the lead. Too bad her dad had to work.

  Avondale High was an u
nusual school, split almost fifty-fifty between Walkers and wheelchair students—a.k.a. Wheelers. Tonight the Walkers were out in droves showing their support. The Warriors had recently been ranked one of the top ten high school wheelchair basketball teams in the country.

  Back in the tiny, parallel universe part of her brain, McKenzie’s focus widened. Though the crowd continued to roar, Penny stood rigid, eyes wide, face drained of all color. Visibly shaking, her hand drifted to a point right above her chin, exactly where her mouth should have been, covering the evidence.

  McKenzie’s heart skipped into overdrive. She may have been a remarkable player but lately she was also something else—crazy, the most likely answer. Seconds ago, maybe minutes—McKenzie’s sense of time was all jumbled—Penny had been standing in her usual spot: bottom row of the bleachers right behind her dad, Coach Nickels. Penny may have been the coach’s daughter but she knew nothing about wheelchair basketball. She didn’t even play regular basketball. Yet, there she was, jumping up and down and screaming, “Pass the ball! Pass the ball to Joanne!” Joanne Chang had been missing shots all night. Then she’d leaned over, pointed straight at McKenzie and whispered in her dad’s ear. Seconds later, Coach Nickels was ordering her, McKenzie Wu, who had already made twenty-three of their thirty-eight points, to stop hogging the ball. That was the moment—the precise moment—the image of Penny without a mouth had first entered McKenzie’s mind.

  “OUCH! Learn how to throw!” McKenzie rubbed the side of her head. Okay, so maybe her brain wasn’t exactly in the game.

  Coach Nickels leaned forward almost falling out of his wheelchair. “Wakeup Wu!” Behind him, Penny’s hand was no longer covering her mouth. The same mouth McKenzie had so fervently wished would disappear, then watched while particle by particle it did. The same mouth that now, thank goodness, had suddenly returned. Had it all been a dream? If so, by the look on Penny’s face, she must have been having the same nightmare.

  McKenzie reached out, grabbed the pass and took off down the court. From the corner of her eye she saw Penny scramble out of the bleachers, push people out of her way and dash wildly out of the gym.

  The buzzer signaled the end of the third quarter. McKenzie hurled the ball attempting an impossible three-point shot. As the ball spun through the air, straight toward the hoop, she had the distinct feeling that if she wished hard enough, the hoop would lean forward to catch it.

  Crazy!

  Without waiting to see if she’d made the shot, McKenzie rolled off the court.

  “Lucky shot, Wu. Too bad it doesn’t count.”

  McKenzie looked from her coach to the hoop and felt all the blood drain out of her face. The hoop seemed normal. Yet, somehow, she’d made the shot.

  “You okay?” asked Coach Nickels.

  NO! “What? Yeah. I guess,” McKenzie mumbled. “Too many balls to the head.”

  “Go get some water. While you’re at it, sit out the rest of the game. Give your teammates a chance to play.”

  Normally, McKenzie would have mentally banged chairs with her coach protesting such an unfair decision. Instead, she turned away, shaking her head in disbelief, and took off towards the fountain.

  McKenzie took her time savoring the cold, clear water, ignoring the pale green wad of gum near the drain. She splashed her face, half thinking she might wake up and everything would be normal. Dad would be working, Grandma Mir sleeping and reality wouldn’t twist itself into something else simply because McKenzie thought about it. Everything would be normal, the way it had been up until three days ago.

  She’d been staring at her father’s new van; furious he’d brought home the hideously lemon, blindingly bright, yellow clunker instead of the blue van she’d wanted. “Statistics show, Mickey-D, people who drive yellow cars have fewer accidents.” Arghhh! That’s because they’re too embarrassed to drive them. Suddenly, as if the clunker had heard her thoughts, particles of yellow began to swim…or maybe it was more like dance. In any case, suddenly the van was blue—Bright Royal Fricking Blue! Just like today, time had seemed to slow. The van was yellow, the particles danced, the van was blue. Her dad had walked out of the house yelling something about homework and, back in slow-mo time, McKenzie had watched the particles move again—not so much dancing now but, rather, slipping back into place. By the time her dad was standing next to her the van was yellow again. He never mentioned it and McKenzie, convinced she must be having a reaction to her grandmother’s dinner of meatloaf with marmalade, decided it was best to forget about it.

  McKenzie dried her face with the bottom of her jersey, tucked a stray curl behind her ear and turned around. Her first instinct had been right. Forget about the van. Forget about making mouths disappear and moving basketball hoops. Stop eating grandma’s meatloaf with marmalade. Her dad was a scientist. Look at the facts, McKenzie. Look at the facts.

  So…Fact number one: new town, new school and, most important, new team. McKenzie had spent the first thirteen years of her life in the middle of the Midwest where the weather was miserable, the scenery flat and her mother lay buried. Thousands of miles and what might as well have been thousands of light years from where they lived now.

  Fact number two: no one had mentioned the prize for testing out of freshman level courses was harder classes and extra homework. Not to mention being branded a geek.

  “WU! Get over here.”

  Ah yes… And finally, fact number three: Coach Nickels. For some reason, he had it out for her. No wonder McKenzie’s mind was playing tricks. Tonight she would go home and go straight to bed—no homework and, just to be safe, no leftover meatloaf either. Sleep. That’s what she needed. Sleep…and a lot less marmalade.

  Chapter 2

  FBI TRANSCRIPT 21201

  Agent Wink Krumm and McKenzie Wu

  Monday, April 6th

  KRUMM: I’m with the FBI, Miss Wu. That’s Federal—

  M. WU: Bureau of Investigation. Yeah, I know.

  KRUMM: You understand then, that what occurred in Avondale during those five days goes far beyond what is considered normal and that, in such cases, it is an agent’s duty to—

  M. WU: Harass me?

  KRUMM: Excuse me?

  M. WU: You’re harassing me—right?

  KRUMM: I prefer the term…investigate. Now, perhaps you can tell me where I can find your great-great grandmother’s diary.

  M. WU: Diary?

  KRUMM: Don’t play dumb with me. If you can’t help me, I believe your great-great-great uncle Wells will be only too glad to assist.

  M. WU: Believe me, he’s not that great.

  KRUMM: So you say. As it turns out, however, your great-great grandmother, Julianne Anderson, had a brother named H.G. Wells. He apparently died on safari, and yet, the official record states: “…body was never found.”

  M. WU: Bodies disappear.

  KRUMM: And so, it seems, does evidence. Now…about that diary.

  ***

  THINGS THAT GO BUMP

  Monday, March 16th

  Avondale School

  McKenzie rolled through the front doors of Avondale School, backed into the corner behind the open door, closed her eyes and, despite a purely scientific view of the Almighty, prayed to remain invisible.

  Students swarmed past in a blur of shuffles, shouts and bits of morning gossip. Most of them walked, but many of them, like McKenzie, were in wheelchairs. Even after two months it still amazed her. In her old town, she’d been one of only three wheelchair students in the entire school. Here, she was one among many.

  “Mac! There you are.”

  Hayes! McKenzie held her eReader in front of her face. Not today! Not now!

  Rudy Hayes Jr., or “Hayes” as he insisted upon being called, stood in front of her, rocking back and forth in his favorite bright red running shoes, waiting for a reply. McKenzie didn’t look up. She could easily picture Hayes trying to work out why she was ignoring him; his thick, dark eyebrows knitted together in one long unibrow. Being “patiently impatie
nt,” as her grandmother would say.

  Hayes stopped rocking. “You playing peek-a-boo?”

  “Gotta study.”

  “Behind the door?”

  McKenzie lowered her eReader. Hayes was grinning. “Awesome game, WU!” He held up his hand for a high five. When she didn’t respond, he grabbed her eReader.

  “Give it back!”

  “Aw come on, Mac. Can’t a guy take some interest in what his freshman genius buddy is studying?” Hayes was holding the eReader upside down. “Any of those senior nerds make a move on you yet? Give me the word and I’ll,” he gave the air a little one-two punch, “reprogram their computers.”

  Despite her mood, McKenzie laughed. Hayes’ sideways grin, dazzling white against milky brown skin, was blinding. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  Hayes handed her the eReader; then stood back and crossed his arms. McKenzie had only known him a few months, but could already recognize the signs. Hayes had something to say. “Last night I had this bizarre dream…”

  Dream? McKenzie couldn’t believe it. She was still trying to shake off last night’s nightmare and now, suddenly, Hayes wanted to talk dreams. Time to go!

  “…I was racing against girls who had wheels instead of legs. They were fast, but I was faster. What do you think?”

  Normally, McKenzie would have loved sparring with Hayes. Jabs, insults—normal stuff.

  “Earth to McKenzie. The race! What do you think about the race?”

  Her hands slipped down to the shiny, navy blue rims of her wheelchair. “Gotta go.”

  Hayes pointed toward the end of the hallway. “What’s your hurry?”

  McKenzie felt trapped. Claustrophobic. What the heck was Hayes pointing at? She squinted. Something at the end of the hallway? Then it dawned on her. Race. Hayes wanted to race. Here. Now. With her!

  That changed things.

  Competition always changed things.

  Best estimate, McKenzie figured it would take her ten, no, nine-seconds to reach the corner…even weaving between students. Maybe seven, if she used her—What am I thinking? “I can’t!”

  “Come on, Wu. What’s wrong with you? Lately you been acting like a—”