by J Boyd Long
Under the window on their right was a ratty old couch that may have been green at one time, but had long since stopped worrying about appearances and let itself go. In front of it was a three-legged coffee table; the fourth leg having been replaced by a stack of magazines. A hurricane lamp sat on the table amid a pile of dead moths, its globe clouded with dust.
On the left side of the room was a small bed, neatly made with an old army blanket, and topped with a layer of dust. There was a bookshelf at the head of the bed, filled with paperbacks in double rows. It wasn’t a five-star hotel, but Quentin liked the atmosphere. It just felt comfortable.
Near the back of the room stood a small woodstove, a table with three chairs, and a pile of books and magazines surrounding two hurricane lamps. Against the wall behind the table was a shelf with canned goods on it. Tocho walked over and picked up a can of soup and looked at the bottom of it.
“L7K3-Z. It’s got the code on it. We’re in the right dimension.” He sat the can back on the shelf. “Oh, and the soup expired about five years ago, in case any of you were eyeballing it.”
“I don’t think we’re going to be needing the soup,” Bob said. “Now that we know the DimGate is working, we ought to go back home and figure out a Plan B.”
“Agreed,” Tocho said. “This has been a hell of a long day, and I’m really interested in stretching out in my bed tonight after a nice supper.”
“We don’t even get to see the ocean?” Eissa protested. “Quentin got to see the dinosaurs; I want to see the ocean. I’ll never get to hang out on a deserted island in the South Pacific again.” The little-kid-whine in her voice suggested that she might go into a tantrum any moment.
“We’ll be seeing plenty of ocean,” Quentin said. He tried to keep the patronizing edge out of his voice, but it was hard when she acted like a spoiled brat. “If Zimmerman and Holt are looking for us, we’re likely to be holed up at the beach house for quite a while, until we get it all sorted out with the FBI.”
The thought of Zimmerman made his gut clench. Somehow, he’d managed to stay so wrapped up in the DimGate situation that he hadn’t thought about what got them here in hours. He looked out the door, listening to the breeze blowing through the palm trees as he pushed the unease back into the corner of his mind. Stay in the moment, Q. Here and now.
“The ocean’s the same here as it is in Florida,” Bob said. “Once you’ve seen one beach, you’ve pretty much seen them all. Besides, the trail is all overgrown. It would take us an hour to get there and back, and that’s assuming we had a chainsaw, which we don’t.”
“Oh, whatever,” Eissa pouted. “Let’s just go, then. But just for the record, all beaches are not the same.”
Quentin’s hands tightened into fists against his legs. Listening to others argue was exactly the kind of conflict that made him want to crawl under a rock. He gritted his teeth as they left the shack and trooped back into the jungle, but nothing else was said. Bob opened the panel and set the controls, and the rest of them gathered in front of the door, waiting for it to engage. After a moment, they heard the click and the hum, and Bob stepped around to join them.
“Here we go, folks,” he said. “Click your heels three times, and let’s go home.”
Tocho opened the door, and they stared in surprise at a woman riding a horse directly at them. The woman was looking to her left, but the horse, being pointed straight at the door, was looking at them in equal, if not greater, surprise. The horse and rider were in the process of jumping over a fence on an equestrian course designed for such purposes. Their trajectory was going to bring them right through the door in about two strides, if something didn’t happen in the very immediate future.
The horse and Quentin both acted at the same time. The horse panicked as it landed, its eyes wide and nostrils flared, as it swerved to its left. At the same time, Quentin dove around the side of the door and hit the emergency kill switch. Instantly, the field, the woman, and the horse vanished, and there was simply jungle foliage on the other side of the door.
“Holy shit,” Eissa said, her eyes wide. “What the fuck was that all about?”
No one said anything for a moment. Bob clapped Quentin on the shoulder, squeezing tightly as his mouth silently opened and closed. Quentin blushed, and tried to find a way to fend off the gush of emotion that seemed to be working its way out of Bob.
“You did good, kid.” Bob’s eyes were turning red. “I should’ve done that two seconds before you did.” He nodded his head, and turned away, releasing his grip on Quentin’s shoulder.
“I just did what you told me to do, that’s all.” Quentin tried to shift the focus back to the door. “What’s the screen say? Did it change?”
Bob scrutinized the destination display screen in the control panel and wiped his eye with a sleeve. “According to the screen, we went to 444, which is where we live. The door should have opened up right under the tree where we spent most of the day putting this thing together.” He sighed, and ran a hand over his face. “We seem to have a very serious problem. Hell, nothing changed since we crossed over here, we didn’t touch anything. I don’t know how that even could have happened.”
The breeze shifted slightly, carrying the sound of the distant waves crashing, and the cry of a gull.
“Just for the hell of it, drop it to 443, and let’s see what happens,” Tocho said. “Maybe it’s just getting off by one.”
Bob rubbed his temples for a moment and closed his eyes. “That’s dangerous, as we just saw firsthand, but you might be on to something. We know what to expect in 443, so we’ll know right away if that’s it or not, anyway. It’s worth a try. Diablo Tower?”
Tocho nodded to Bob, and looked at Quentin. “You two stay over there by Bob, just in case something does make it to the door. I don’t want you getting run over.”
“Okay.” Quentin didn’t want to get run over by anything either. He and Eissa shuffled over beside Bob and watched as he set the panel and activated the door.
“Here goes nothing.” Tocho stepped to the far side of the DimGate, leaned over, and cracked it open. He peered through the gap, and pushed it open so they could all see.
Quentin stared, mesmerized by the sight on the other side of the door, as he unconsciously stepped over in front of it. They were on top of a tall building in the middle of a huge city. Flying cars zipped by on the left and right in rows, layers and layers of them going up and down as far as he could see. They were flanked by skyscrapers covered in lights and video screens, with massive, endless advertisements drawing his attention from one spot to another. Far below, sleek white trains blurred by at incredible speeds, one after another. The whine of thousands of electric cars and the howling wind combined into a deafening roar.
Even though he was still on the island side of the DimGate with his feet planted firmly on the ground, Quentin was overcome with a sudden case of vertigo. He could feel himself swaying, and despite the fact that the edge of the roof was at least fifty feet away, the possibility that he might fall off of it seemed very real. His arms swung out as he tried to find his balance. Even the fear of falling wasn’t enough to override the wonder of the spectacle, though, and if he had fallen, it would have been with wide eyes and a silly grin as he tried to look everywhere at once.
“Well, that’s still 443,” Tocho shouted. “God, I love Las Vegas! Looks like we’re on the roof of the Diablo Tower, right where we ought to be.”
Bob nodded, and Tocho closed the door, cutting off the cacophony of sights and sounds. He turned, glancing at Quentin.
“Hey buddy, are you okay?” Tocho waved his hand in front of Quentin’s face, and snapped his fingers. “Earth to Quentin.”
Quentin blinked. Seeing real live dinosaurs had been a lot to accept, but seeing a scene straight out of some futuristic sci-fi movie was another thing altogether. It made the technology in their own dimension seem old-fashioned by comparison. Eissa’s lucid dream concept was sounding more and more like a reasonable
idea to him. His balance returned as he looked around, but his wits were slower to respond.
“I’m here,” he said. “I just… that was a total mindfuck. It kinda blew me away for a minute.”
Bob chuckled. “It’s a bit overwhelming the first time you see it. I guess I should have warned you, but I was hoping Tocho was right about the computer just being off by one, and I didn’t even think about it.”
Quentin nodded. “Is that the same time as now? I mean, was that the future?”
“No, that’s just a really advanced dimension. They had some pretty progressive thinkers that made a big splash, and they came up with a globalization movement that’s rather unique. I forget the name of the outfit, but they have a thing like the United Nations, except they share ideas for building better infrastructure and transportation systems. The best minds in the world all started working together on that stuff back in the 1700’s, and they had electricity around the globe two hundred years before everyone else. They’ve done all kinds of neat things.”
Quentin grunted. It made sense. When the various space agencies had finally decided to pool their resources instead of duplicating efforts, they got a lot of things done, like the International Space Station, and the Mars rovers. It stood to reason that other areas of society would also benefit from a global effort.
“There’s a restaurant in the Diablo Tower called The Cosmos Kitchen that we used to go eat at sometimes, sort of a guilty pleasure.” Bob smiled. “I’m not a fan of Vegas the way Tocho is, but I do enjoy eating there.”
“Well, at least we can get to a good restaurant,” Eissa said. “That’s a plus. And maybe Tocho can show me around Vegas. I doubt Quentin would be interested, but I’d love to check it out.”
Tocho’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Oh, I could take you to all the best shows, we’d have a fabulous time. These two sticks in the mud can stay here and be boring.”
Eissa laughed, clapping her hands. “It’s on.”
“Under other circumstances, I’d say go for it,” Bob said, his smile fading back into a frown. “But this goddamn DimGate is just being totally unpredictable. I’m afraid to even go across to another dimension, because we might not be able to get back.”
Bob didn’t strike Quentin as the kind of guy who was afraid of anything, or the kind of guy who found himself in a situation that he couldn’t control, so his statement seemed odd. Was it really possible that they might be in trouble? To hear Bob’s doubts was a punch in the gut. Up until this point, it hadn’t occurred to him that they might not actually make it back home. Now he wasn’t so sure.
Chapter 12
Hearing Bob voice the possibility of getting trapped in another dimension made Quentin pause. Somewhere in between eating breakfast at Bob’s house and now, he had unconsciously put all his faith in Bob and Tocho, and never considered that they might not be able to get him and Eissa back home. It was probably just the stress of the moment getting to Bob. After all, he had undoubtedly been in lots of spots tighter than this, and he had made it through all of those.
“Well, if we have to get trapped somewhere, a deserted island in paradise is a great place to do it,” Eissa said. “Assuming you guys can catch some fish or something, of course. There’s the whole five-year-old soup problem, but I’ve been in worse situations.”
“Well, look who suddenly became an optimist,” Quentin said, shaking off his apprehension. “Are you abandoning your role as the group complainer?”
“I’m not a complainer,” Eissa shot back. “I’m the person who points out all the facts of a situation that everyone else ignores when they get excited about something. It’s a completely different thing, and a very important and under-appreciated position. You should thank me, instead of mocking me.”
“I have never mocked you,” Quentin said. “That’s not my style at all.”
“You have mocked me twenty-seven times in the last three days,” Eissa said.
“Okay, but aside from those times, I really don’t do it much.” He tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t hold back a giggle. “I mean, if you want to obsess over a few isolated incidents like that, I guess it’s your business, but…”
“Would you two put the comedy show on hold for a minute?” Bob cut in, his eyes blazing. “We’re in a bit of a crisis here. I can see that this is your way of dealing with it, which tells me that you don’t handle stress very well, but I need you to at least keep quiet while Tocho and I figure out how to handle this.”
Quentin looked away in embarrassment. A moment before, he had felt almost giddy, but now he felt like an idiot. What was wrong with him? Do you make inappropriate jokes in stressful situations, Quentin? It really wasn’t that he was avoiding the stress, was it? He was managing a lot at the moment, and doing so by… by not thinking about it. Shit. That was pretty much the same as avoiding it.
“Looks like he figured you out pretty quick,” Eissa whispered.
“Seriously,” Bob said, his voice growing hard. “Go see the goddamn ocean. I can’t think with you carrying on, and you obviously can’t keep your mouth shut.”
“Sorry,” Eissa mumbled. “So, which way was the beach?”
“Go back to the house, turn left, and try to find the trail at the tree line.” Bob shook his head. “Try not to get lost.”
“Sorry, Bob,” Quentin said, his face burning. “We’ll get out of the way for a minute. I know this is serious.”
He shuffled back to the house, with Eissa trailing behind him. High-tension situations made him extremely uncomfortable, he couldn’t deny that. He also didn’t take criticism very well, as evidenced by his endless conflicts with Richard at work. At least he had managed to keep his mouth shut here, and not snap back at Bob. He stopped at the porch, and sat down on the step. Eissa caught up, and sat down beside him.
“I guess we pushed Bob a little too far, huh?” she said.
“I think he’s feeling responsible for us,” Quentin said. He picked up a small sea shell and rubbed the dirt off of it, turning it over in his hands. “I mean, on one hand, he did volunteer to take us under his wing and try to rescue us. On the other hand, he’s the only guy with a door, and a belief that everyone needs to stay in their own dimension, so he has a sort of responsibility to do something. And then, of course, the door not working properly just makes the whole thing frustrating. I can empathize with him.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Eissa agreed. “It’s a stressful thing. We have totally disrupted both their lives.”
“Well, to be fair, whoever is running the DimGate system is the one that’s really disrupting their lives. I mean, we have the same moral concerns that they do. We’re on the same team.”
“Good point,” Eissa said, brightening up. “His fight isn’t with us, it’s with the greedy bastards who want to strip-mine everything. We’re just the ones who happened to be in front of him.”
“Exactly,” Quentin said. “But we aren’t helping them, either. So, do you want to go find the beach, and let them cool off for a little bit?”
“Sure.”
Are you shifting the blame for your behavior? His therapist, always on the job. Having her as the voice in his head was an improvement over some of the previous voices, though. Maybe. Maybe he was deflecting. Maybe he was using this whole adventure as an excuse to avoid taking responsibility for himself. It was easy for her to criticize, she wasn’t the one going through it. Why are you attacking me, Quentin? Do you have a guilty conscience? Quentin chuckled. Even being in another dimension couldn’t stop her from painting him into a corner and forcing him to acknowledge himself.
Quentin got up and slowly walked toward the tree line beside the house. He turned to the right, scanning for any sign of a trail. Eissa followed his lead and turned to the left. The brush was thick, and while there were a variety of small animal trails, he didn’t see anything human-sized.
“Over here,” Eissa called, pointing. “You can’t really see much, but it looks like a trail once
you get in a few feet.”
She pushed through some low-hanging palm fronds and stepped onto the faint trail. Quentin followed, ducking under the branches and spider webs that covered the overgrown path. Here and there, fallen tree branches lay on the trail, and they stopped to push the smaller ones aside. After a few minutes of hard walking, Eissa stopped.
“I hear it,” she said, a grin lighting up her face. “Do you hear the waves?”
Quentin listened. What he had mistaken before as wind noise was clearly the thunder of crashing surf. Now that he recognized it, he wondered how he had missed it before. He nodded with a smile, and they pressed on. There was something therapeutic about the ocean, something soothing and healing, and a need for it had been building up. The trail twisted and turned through the dense jungle, and at last they burst out of the canopy onto a blinding white sandy beach.