Genesis Dimension

by J Boyd Long

  “We’ve probably walked about a mile,” Quentin said. “There’s a bridge down that way, and if that’s Hogtown Creek, then I think this would be about where the car dealerships are at in… in our version of town. We need to come up with some terminology for that. Anyway, this Gainesville seems to be a whole lot smaller than ours.”

  “So, now what?” Eissa asked. “Do we go back the way we came, or head down around the other side?”

  Quentin sighed. As much as he hated Richard’s micro-management leadership, he had become accustomed to rarely making decisions. This new responsibility was exhausting. He looked around, desperate for something to help him find his way.

  “I don’t know. I was hoping to have found the portal by now. I’ve got to be home by seven in the morning, so I can take my sister to work again.”

  Eissa shook her head in disgust. “She needs to get her own car.”

  “I’m not arguing that, but right now I need her to work so we can pay the rent, and that means we need to find this damn portal, so I can drive her. This really isn’t the time to lecture me about her.”

  “Sorry,” Eissa said. “I’m just saying Denise is a free-loader. So, which way?”

  Sometimes it was funny that Eissa had to get the last word in, but this wasn’t one of those times. She loved to piss him off and knew all the ways to do it. He swallowed his irritation, determined not to allow her to get the best of him.

  “We might as well head over to the other side,” Quentin said, ignoring her jab. “There’s bound to be more offices in town, I would think. Maybe we’ll see something that will clue us in.”

  “Well, just keep in mind that I’ve got short legs, and my ass isn’t used to walking all over the place.” Eissa sleeved the sweat off her forehead, as if to bolster her point.

  He nodded. His legs were nearly a foot longer than hers, and it was easy to forget that she was taking a lot more steps than he was. Part of him wanted to walk fast to punish her for being so insensitive about Denise and their situation, but ultimately, they needed to work together to get out of this. There wasn’t any room for him to be passive/aggressive and petty about it. He took a breath. Let it go, Q, let it go.

  They began walking again, and the farther south they went, the nicer the town became. The houses were a bit farther apart after a few blocks, and some even had painted trim and flower gardens. A huge red barn came into view on the left side of the road, opposite the houses. Horses grazed in the fields around it, and there were endless bales of hay stacked up under the cover of the long, overhanging roof. Quentin breathed in the heavy aroma of horse manure. It didn’t smell great, but it was better than the smell of car exhaust and asphalt that he was used to.

  The barn was three stories high, with wide overhangs on both sides. An open door on the front of the second story revealed more hay storage, and the sweet smell of it drifted down to street level as they approached. It didn’t look like a place they would find a DimGate, but it might be a place to hide out, if it came down to that.

  They walked on, dividing their attention between the horses on the left side of the road, and the town on the right. They were in more of a commercial part of town here, with a wide street near the barn going in towards the center of town. There were a variety of businesses lining the street, and lots of people walking about. The appearance of people made him uneasy.

  “Let’s avoid that right now,” Eissa said. “I’ve probably got a better chance of being hung as a spy than we do of finding the door down there, and getting through it.”

  “Agreed,” Quentin said. “From what I can tell, it’s all clothing, food, and blacksmiths. Retail stuff. That’s not really what we’re looking for, anyway, unless there’s a place to buy you a blonde wig.”

  “Right? I feel so conspicuous, which is weird. I mean, I feel conspicuous all the time, but not usually about being a Native American.”

  “Is it because of your alligator mouth and canary ass?”

  “No, asshole, it’s because I’m an overweight lesbian, and people are fucking judgey about that stuff.”

  Quentin chuckled. She might know his buttons, but he knew hers, too.

  They followed the road in silence for a while. Eventually, the nice houses began to give way to the seedier, rundown shacks again. Quentin’s legs were beginning to get tired from all the walking, and a blister was forming on his left heel. They were no closer to figuring out where to find a DimGate, and the longer it took to get home, the harder it was going to be to handle things once they did get there. He had to assume the security guard had called in reinforcements by now. They might have even figured out who he was. Maybe he could claim that his ID card had been stolen, and divert their attention somewhere else. It seemed like a long shot, and mostly depended on the quality of the surveillance camera footage, but it was all he had. He suddenly wished they had worn disguises during their break-in, instead of depending on his ability to erase the cameras.

  “Let’s find a secluded bit of shade and rest a few minutes, and then finish our lap around the perimeter. The security department is going to figure out who I am pretty soon, and I’m running out of time to get Denise to work.” He pointed to a large tree up ahead, out in the field. “That might work.”

  “Fuck Denise, we’ve got way bigger problems than her needy ass. And besides, if you’re not back in time, she can find another way to get to work. Stop being co-dependent.”

  His mood, already dark, flashed to anger, and he was retorting before he realized it. “It’s not so simple in the real world, Eissa. Unlike you, I’m very reliable, so she’ll probably think I got killed in a car wreck or something, if I don’t show up. So instead of finding another ride to work, she’ll call the cops and the hospital and IBZ, and it will all turn into a giant shit show.”

  “That’s true,” Eissa said lightly. “She’s flighty.”

  “Well, it’s not like she’s going to assume that I got busy traveling in another dimension and lost track of time.” His voice was rising, and he forced himself to stop talking. She had somehow sucked him into a fight, despite his intentions. He blew out a breath. Let it go.

  “Well, speaking of time, what time is it there?”

  Quentin shrugged. “I’m a little jetlagged. I have no idea.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. As he expected, there was no service, but the clock showed that it was 5:43 a.m.

  “It’s morning there. We’ve got a little bit of time, but we’ve already been here for five hours.”

  A small ball bounced across the road in front of them, followed by a boy with ruddy cheeks and blonde hair. A coal forge smoldered in the yard where he had been playing in front of a dirty gray shop. He picked up the ball and turned to look at them.

  “Hey lady, are you an Indian?”

  Quentin ignored the boy and kept walking, but Eissa stopped.

  “Maybe. What if I am?”

  Quentin stopped and turned back, intending to drag Eissa down the road. Getting into an argument with a ten-year-old kid wasn’t going to get them anywhere.

  The boy’s bright face darkened into a sneer. “My dad says the only good Indian is a dead Indian.”

  “Well, your dad’s an asshole, kid. You need to find a better role model.”

  His sneer turned into slack-jawed surprise, but quickly hardened into anger. He ran back into the shop, shouting.

  “Dad, hey Dad, I found an Indian, and she called you an a-hole. Dad!”

  Quentin grabbed Eissa by the arm. “What are you doing? We need to go, right now!”

  A man came striding out the shop door, his dirty leather apron flapping at his knees. His shirtless arms were marked with black smudges, but his lean, muscular physique was unmistakable. He stopped in the road in front of them, with the boy hiding behind his legs.

  “What the hell did you say to my boy?”

  Quentin felt his heart spike into action, and at the same time, his brain shut down. Here he was, Mr. Non-Confrontational, in his second al
tercation of the day, except this time, there was no DimGate to escape through. His brain was foggy, too slow to find a solution.

  “Your son made an extremely racist statement to me,” Eissa said. “I assume he learned that from you.”

  “Don’t no Indian talk shit to me,” the man snarled, walking up to them. “Especially a damn woman. I’m gonna teach you a lesson about respect.”

  He raised his hand to slap her, and Quentin stepped forward. “Excuse me, sir, there’s obviously been a big misunderstanding here. I’m sure we can talk this out.”

  The blacksmith turned slightly, his eyes widening as he stared in surprised rage, and punched Quentin in the chest. Quentin took several steps back, trying to catch himself, but fell sprawling into the yard. His chest felt like it had been caved in, and he struggled to take a breath. He heard Eissa scream, and he forced himself to his feet.

  He weaved, trying to focus on what was happening on the road. The blacksmith had Eissa by the hair, and she was punching him in the stomach. The kid was shouting for his dad to kill her. He had to stop this, and he had to do it fast.

  The forge stood beside him, smoke from the glowing red coals burning his nose as it curled into the air. He took a step forward, raised his foot, and kicked the whole thing over, spilling burning coal into the open doorway of the shop. The impact made him wince as his bruised chest contracted, but he saw that a piece of canvas inside the shop was already on fire, and flames were licking the wall beside the door. He turned back to Eissa.

  “Dad!” the boy screamed. “Dad, he’s burning down the shop!”

  The man let go of Eissa’s hair and spun around. “Son of a bitch!” Eissa stumbled to her knees as he sprinted towards the building. “Get some more water, boy!”

  The boy scrambled around the building, and Quentin raced over to Eissa. He grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet. “Come on, we’ve gotta get the fuck out of here.”

  She stared up at him with wide eyes, a red handprint glowing on her cheek, and nodded mutely. Still holding her arm, he ran down the road, half dragging her behind him. He rounded the first corner they came to, trying to get out of sight. His chest was screaming in pain, but he was too terrified to stop. Everything was way out of control.

  They rounded another corner, and Eissa slowed to a walk, wrenching her arm out of his grasp.

  “I gotta stop,” she said. “I can’t breathe.”

  Quentin turned back to her. “Okay, but let’s at least keep walking. We have to put some distance between us and that guy.”

  She nodded and fell in beside him. Despite the panicked flight, he was fairly certain they were headed towards Pop’s Place. A surge of hope shot through him, and he was suddenly sure the DimGate would be there, sitting on the porch, waiting to take them home. He glanced at Eissa.

  “Are you okay? Did he punch you, or just slap you?”

  “Just the one slap. I didn’t see it coming. I was trying to see if you were okay.”

  Quentin nodded. The pain in his chest was receding as they walked, lessening his fears about broken ribs. The explosive violence of the blacksmith was so foreign to him that in some ways, it didn’t even seem real. Who punches a stranger in the street?

  “I should have defused the situation sooner,” he said. “I just never expected it to go like that, especially that fast.”

  “What a fucking asshole,” Eissa muttered. “I wish I had throat-chopped him.”

  Quentin chuckled dryly. “Yeah, me too.” He pointed down the street in front of them. “I think this is going to dead end on the same road Pop’s Place is on. It should be on our right, a few doors down. Maybe the DimGate will rescue us again.”

  “I sure hope so. I’ve never wanted to go home so bad in my life.”

  He gave her a one-armed hug for a moment, and they continued in silence. The end of the street was in sight, and the field beyond was coming into view. Quentin’s step quickened. If the DimGate was there, would it put them back in Zimmerman’s office? Now that he knew it was a portal, maybe he could change the destination, and put them somewhere outside the IBZ building.

  They turned right onto the perimeter road. After a few steps, the porch at Pop’s Place where they first arrived came into view, but there was no DimGate waiting on it. Quentin’s heart sank. Now that they were here, it seemed ridiculous to have expected it to be there.

  “Well, ain’t this a bitch,” Eissa said. She stopped beside the porch of Pop’s Place and rested her hand on the railing. “Maybe if we sit there and stare at the spot, the door will show back up.”

  “That didn’t work earlier,” Quentin said. “Besides, we need to make a plan. If we don’t find the door in the next two or three hours, it’s going to be dark, and we obviously can’t walk all night. I’m not trying to incite a panic here, but this is not a great situation.”

  Quentin was closer to the edge of panic than he wanted to admit. The fact that he had no control over the situation grated on his nerves. What if that guy came looking for them? What if there was no DimGate in this dimension, and they ended up trapped here forever? Denise was probably already filling out a missing person’s report.

  The sound of shouts in the distance echoed off the building beside them. Quentin looked up in alarm and glanced back the way they had come. There was smoke rising from one of the buildings down the street, presumably the blacksmith’s shop, and a small group of people were converging on the road in front of it.

  “That’s probably not good.” Quentin’s hand drifted to his chest, massaging the bruised muscles. “That doesn’t look like the fire department.”

  “Those guys are carrying rifles,” Eissa said, her voice trembling. “That’s a mob. We gotta get the fuck out of here, right now.”

  “Over there.” Quentin pointed across the street to the field. “Let’s head for the woods.”

  They took off across the field. The tall grass was difficult to move through. The tree line in the distance inched closer, and Quentin began to wish he had listened to his instincts the first time he had wanted to hide in the woods. He glanced back over his shoulder, expecting the mob to be right behind them, but they were still a quarter of a mile away. Maybe they hadn’t noticed Quentin and Eissa running across the field. The terror in his stomach threatened to paralyze him, and he focused on the pain that was returning to his chest. At least it was bearable.

  They made it to the trees, and as soon as they were out of sight of town, Eissa found a big oak tree and plopped down beside it, gasping.

  “I’m done. I can’t breathe. Gotta rest.”

  “Okay, quick break,” Quentin said. “We can’t stay here long, though.”

  She rolled her eyes up to his, lines of exhaustion showing in the corners. “Do you think they saw us?”

  He shook his head, his chest heaving. “I don’t know. I think we have to assume that someone did.”

  He sat down beside her and leaned back against the tree. The pain in his chest pulsed with each shuddering breath, as if the blacksmith was punching him again and again.

  “You think there’s a Hilton or something out here in the woods?” Eissa asked with a wry chuckle. “Or maybe a magic door station?”

  “Yeah, that would be good,” Quentin said. He waved at a gnat that was buzzing around his ear. “Seriously, though, we’ve got to figure out what we’re doing. We’re going to get stuck in the swamp trying to run around here at night. The only thing I can come up with at all, is working our way around to the other side of town. Maybe we can sneak into that big barn and hide in the hayloft for the night.”

  “Have you met me?” Eissa asked. “I don’t sleep in barns. I sleep on a two-thousand-dollar mattress with six pillows.”

  He could tell that she was shutting down, physically and emotionally, and he needed her to stay engaged. If she gave up now, he’d never get her back home. He peered around the edge of the tree. The group of people were still on the road, but they had moved down by Pop’s Place.

&
nbsp; “I know, I know. But, it seems to me that if they think we’re running this way, then we ought to not be here. We’ve got to find some sort of safe place that we can hide out, until we figure out what to do next.”

  “I don’t think I can walk that far, especially in the woods. It’s going to take forever.”

  “You were in the Army for ten years,” Quentin pointed out. “You can handle this.”

  “I’ve been out of the Army as long as I was in. Don’t try to put that shit on me.”