An Opening in the Air (Applied Topology Book 2)

by Margaret Ball

“I already checked there.”

  Jimmy gave me a pitying look. “The newspaper morgue, dummy.” I know now – thanks to the newspaper’s librarian, who talked like Ingrid – that he meant archives, not morgue, but we weren’t exactly familiar with either term.

  “Oh… Me too!”

  We were lucky in one way, anyway; fifty years ago the Britfield News (then called the Weekly Britizen) was, as the name suggests, a weekly paper. That cut down the number of papers we had to look at, but not by nearly enough; we started in 1973, just in case Jimmy’s informant had slightly misremembered the time since the incident, and didn’t hit the jackpot until 1957. That’s close to eight hundred papers, in case you’re interested. And no, there wasn’t an index. Britfield hadn’t even got around to putting back issues on microfilm yet, and anyway if they had, I was willing to bet “aliens” wouldn’t have been among the words indexed. Given Britfield’s extreme sensitivity on the subject.

  So there we were, looking through hundreds of fragile, aging papers, with the newspaper librarian hovering over us and urging caution. Fortunately the librarian had about six other jobs – the newspaper still didn’t have much of a staff – and she was called away to deal with one of them. If that hadn’t happened, and if we hadn’t agreed to speed the task by only looking at the front page of each issue, we might never have got as far as 1957. I still have nightmares in which I look at every crumbling page of every newspaper in the archives.

  As it happened, I was the one to find the relevant issue of the Britizen. A bit unfair on Jimmy, since it was his idea in the first place, but that’s the way the paper crumbles.

  And there they were. On the front page, in October of 1957. The headline, in ultra-large font, screamed, “SPACE ALIENS INVADE BRITFIELD.” Farther down the page were more headlines: “DRAMATIC CHASE THROUGH TOWN” and “MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE FROM JAIL CELL.” And way down at the bottom of the page was an inch of small type identifying the portly man between Ingrid and Colton as the then mayor of Britfield, and saying that the occasion for the crowd was the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the Coca-Cola bottling plant. I bet the mayor had been really pissed about space aliens stealing his thunder.

  And Jimmy’s informant had been right about one other thing. Because after pushing the newspaper over to him, I went back and looked at every page of the paper for the subsequent week.

  There was not one word about aliens. That was a hoax that died quickly.

  Except we knew that it hadn’t been – exactly – a hoax.

  Jimmy pushed the paper back to me. To my surprise, he looked miserable, not jubilant. But by mutual consent, we deferred conversation until we were back in the park. Well, no, we didn’t put the papers back where we found them. I was too excited, and Jimmy was too unhappy.

  I expect the librarian is still bent out of shape about that. I haven’t exactly been back to check.

  I was walking on air as we crossed the street and found a park bench. “We found them!” I exulted. “They’re alive! And we also have evidence that they were chased through town and ultimately locked in a jail cell. From which,” I said, “they mysteriously disappeared. So why the long face, Jimmy?”

  “They were alive,” Jimmy said gloomily. “So? Okay, Ingrid was alive in 1957. And she was twenty-five then. She would be eighty-five now. Shall we check the nursing homes now? Or go straight to the cemetery?”

  “Oh.” I may be a mathematician, but topology actually doesn’t have a lot to do with numbers and mental arithmetic is not my strong suit. On the other hand, it’s not that difficult to add sixty to twenty-five. I slumped on the bench and joined Jimmy in his cloud of gloom. We might know where Ingrid had been, but the rescue mission had been a dud.

  And what had happened if Ingrid had still been alive in 1992, when our Ingrid was born? Two of her at the same time? I had a very bad feeling about that. Maybe one or both Ingrids had died. Or maybe the entire universe had changed, and we’d never get back to our 2017. Suddenly I badly wanted to go back to the archives and check the Britfield News for 1992. But I didn’t want to upset Jimmy even more.

  I was eventually distracted from my depressed musings by the feeling of something soft and squishy in my pocket. I dug around and found a Hershey bar, somewhat the worse for wear and softened by my body heat. The Payday and the Baby Ruth had fared better.

  And beneath the stash of candy bars, something prickled against my palm. I closed my hand and drew out a cloud of stars.

  “Jimmy,” I said.

  “If you’re going to tell me it’s already happened and I have to get over it, save your breath.”

  I had something completely different in mind. “Jimmy, we still have a stash of candy bars for energy, and I have a pocketful of stars.”

  “So?”

  “So,” I said with mounting excitement, “Ingrid might be eighty-five if she’d stayed in that time, but she’s only twenty-five in 1957. What if we could teleport to then and bring her and Colton back to now?” And then 1992 wouldn’t be a problem.

  “But we can’t.”

  “Wanna bet? She and Colton did it. We have evidence of that! Don’t you see? I can sugar-load again, feed the stars into the move, and both of us think really hard about that ribbon-cutting ceremony in 1957!”

  “Even if we tried that,” said Jimmy, evidently determined to cling to his gloom, “they had two topologists working the jump. We’ve only got you.”

  “But we will not be trying to teleport three hundred miles at the same time. We’re already in Britfield; all we have to do is get back to 1957. Besides, I’m a stronger teleporter than Ingrid.” I hoped.

  The imminent prospect of torture

  Chapter 19

  After a few hours handcuffed to the table, Colton looked miserably uncomfortable. Ingrid sympathized, but there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it. When her own shoulders and back started aching, she’d experimented and discovered that she could lift the table slightly and slide her handcuffs under the leg she was cuffed to. Colton didn’t have that option; the short chain joining his handcuffs had been passed through a cross-brace. And if the position had been bad for her, it must be that much worse for the taller and larger Colton.

  “Someone coming,” Colton hissed. Ingrid put her hands under the top of the table and slumped forward as though she were still attached to it. To her disappointment, it was only that blasted reporter. She’d been hoping for someone with keys.

  “I just thought you should know,” the reporter said. “My story is so interesting, not only is it going to be on the front page of the next issue, my editor put it out to the wire services. There’s a lab in Dallas that wants us to send y’all there for an intensive psychological and physical exam. Although I just might be able to persuade the cops to keep you here… if.”

  “If what?” Ingrid asked unwillingly.

  “We-ell, if you were to, for instance, display some of your alien special abilities to me, or even explain your advanced technology. We could put a teaser in this edition of the paper and do an article on that next week. I’m sure the boss would want to keep y’all around for more details, and he’s poker buddies with the sheriff.”

  Colton’s eyes met Ingrid’s. Neither of them wanted to get in yet more trouble by showing off what they could actually do. Both Camouflage and Brouwer might be useful to get them out of this place.

  “For instance, what does this little device do?” The reporter waved Ingrid’s cell phone at them. “What happens if I push the buttons?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Ingrid said bitterly.

  “Ah! Biometric lock? It won’t activate unless it recognizes your fingerprint? See, you’ve already told me something. Why not spill the rest?”

  “We’ve told you too much already,” said Colton, who was beginning to regret some of the embellishments they’d added to the previous interview once it became clear that the reporter was dead set on believing that they were well-disguised aliens from outer space.

 
; A longish silence followed.

  “Okay,” the reporter said. “If you want to play it that way, that’s your prerogative. I’m sure the Dallas lab will be able to extract all your secrets, though they may not be as polite about it as I am. Think it over, and if you decide to change your minds, just tell Cletus you’re ready to talk to Rob – that’s me. Robert Long.”

  After he left there was an even longer silence. Finally Ingrid broke it. “I wonder what the people in Dallas plan to do to us?”

  “Nothing good,” Colton said heavily. “Especially since they’re convinced we aren’t human.”

  “Surely, if they’re scientists, they’ll be able to tell that we are human.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” said Colton. “I think it’ll be more like a woman trying to persuade the Inquisition that she isn’t a witch.”

  “Ugh. I wish you hadn’t mentioned the Inquisition.”

  They brooded in silence for a while longer.

  “Look,” Colton said suddenly, “you can get out of here. I don’t think I can teleport while I’m attached to this table, but all you have to deal with is the handcuffs.”

  “I’m not leaving you in this fix,” Ingrid said, though she wasn’t entirely sure she was telling the truth. If it came to torture – She shuddered.

  “Even to get help?”

  “Nobody here is going to help us. And if I couldn’t get back to our time with you adding your power to mine, I certainly won’t be able to do it alone.”

  All the science fiction movies she’d ever seen began playing in Ingrid’s mind, with special emphasis on the nasty parts.

  “In the movies,” she said eventually, “it’s mostly aliens torturing humans.”

  “Ever see The Thing?”

  “Remake or original?”

  “Either, though I actually like the remake better.”

  “At the moment,” Ingrid said, a vague memory of fire and electrodes in her mind, “I don’t think I like either version very much.”

  “Village of the Damned? The children get blown up at the end, because the doctor or somebody decides they’re a danger to humanity.”

  “Tell them that we come in peace?” Ingrid said.

  “In the movies that’s a dead giveaway that we’re about to try and exterminate the human race.”

  “Listen,” Ingrid said, “if we ever get back to 2017, you and Lensky can have a nice conversation about old movies. And if we have to stay in this time, you can watch all the movies when they first come out, and won’t that be fun!”

  “That’s assuming we survive the Dallas lab. I bet they’re already thinking up experiments.”

  “As to that,” Ingrid said, “I’ve had an idea. But we’ll need to wait a while.”

  “You’ve had an idea?”

  “The imminent prospect of torture,” Ingrid misquoted, “concentrates the mind wonderfully. Listen…”

  She leaned closer to Colton and they whispered for a few minutes. Colton thought the plan sounded like a last-ditch, desperate effort, but had to admit he couldn’t come up with anything better. “But are you sure you can do your part?”

  “Well, you certainly can’t, so I’d better be able to,” Ingrid said.

  It was dark before Cletus Taylor returned, carrying a bulky paper bag that smelled like hamburgers. He unlocked the cell and stood in the doorway. “Dinner,” he announced. “If y’all can eat our food?”

  “What is this, a sick joke?” Ingrid demanded. “You know perfectly well we can’t eat like this.” She kept her hands under the table, as though she were still attached to it.

  Cletus thought it over for a while. “Okay. I guess I can let you free of the table for long enough to eat. And you can feed the other one. But no funny business, you still won’t be able to get out.” Pulling a bunch of keys off his belt, he locked the cell door behind him and advanced – slowly, and trying to watch both the prisoners – toward the table. He bent over Ingrid and said, “Huh!,” as he realized she was already free of the table leg.

  Ingrid jumped up and threw her handcuffed arms over his head.

  “Get behind him!” Colton said, but Ingrid was already moving. She pulled her joined hands back. Cletus gagged and tried to get a finger under the handcuffs that were biting into his throat. Then he reached backwards and tried to grab Ingrid, who danced out of his way without losing her hold. Cletus whipped his head around violently, then slumped to the ground. Ingrid kept the pressure on his throat until he stopped twitching.

  “I hope I haven’t killed him,” she said, staring at the prone body.

  “Get the keys, you can always feel guilty later!”

  The bunch of keys had fallen from Cletus’ hand. Ingrid picked them up and went to Colton. She knelt under the table. “Can’t you move a little bit? I can’t reach from here.”

  “I – ow!” Colton twisted against the cross brace as Ingrid fiddled with the lock. “Hurry up, can’t you?”

  Cletus twitched and moaned as Ingrid freed Colton. He stooped over the prone deputy and pressed both thumbs into his neck until the deputy went limp again. “He’s alive, all right.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Carotid pressure,” Colton said. “Hurry up, it won’t last long.” He grabbed Ingrid’s arm. “Don’t drop the keys! Ready?”

  “The park,” Ingrid said.

  “No, just outside this cell first. Brouwer.”

  Once outside the bars, Colton grabbed their cell phones and wallets out of the top desk drawer. “Now, the park. Behind that statue.”

  They said simultaneously, “Brouwer.”

  It didn’t take long enough for them to sense the in-between; in a split second they were standing behind the statue again. Colton took the keys from Ingrid and unlocked her handcuffs.

  And they weren’t alone for long. There was a widening hole in the air; through it Ingrid could see the darkness and the glowing lines of the in-between. Then the hole closed, and we were facing them. “Bottling plant,” I said. “Operating!” I grinned at Jimmy. “It worked! It really worked!”

  “Jimmy!” Ingrid threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “I thought I’d never see you again. Ah, any of you, I mean.” She stepped back. “What are you two doing here, Lia? Now you’re trapped like us.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. We’re going to try teleporting back to our time. Britfield in our time,” I emphasized. “Minimize the effort. Here!” I passed four candy bars to Ingrid and Colton and took two myself. “Sugar loading,” I said, “and stars. Eat fast!”

  “Not a problem,” said Ingrid through a mouthful of Baby Ruth. “We’re starving.”

  “Wish I’d remembered to grab those hamburgers,” Colton said. He practically inhaled a Hershey bar and a Payday while Ingrid and I were still eating.

  “It’s night there too,” I told them.

  “And the bottling plant has been out of business since 2002,” Ingrid said as she finished off the second candy bar. “Um, had been. Will have been?”

  “Okay, let’s keep that in mind. But I hope you still aim for 2017,” said Jimmy.

  Ingrid clasped Jimmy’s hand. The four of us made a circle and the three topologists closed their eyes, concentrating. “Brouwer,” I said.

  Ingrid told me later that she recognized something like the teleportation attempt that had failed them before: hurtling up the spiral, shooting off sideways, and… slowing. This time there were three people funneling stars into the attempted jump, but the barrier was the same: impalpable, empty, impassable. Then the blackness of the in-between blinked out of existence, and when she opened her eyes, the bottling plant was still chugging away on the far side of the park.

  She leaned against the pedestal of Jim Bowie’s statue, feeling weak and dizzy. “That’s… what happened last time,” she told me.

  We were still trapped in 1957. Only now there were four of us.

  She looked at my T-shirt. “We’d better get you some contemporary clothes, or they’ll decide you�
�re a space alien too. I’m pretty sure Joan Jett and the Blackhearts weren’t around in 1957.”

  “Are you sure? They were popular before I was born.”

  “I’m sure,” she said firmly. “Oh, and don’t try to use your cell phone. They think it’s a death ray or something, and anyway it won’t work.”. She slid down the pedestal and rested on the sparse, dry grass, looking tired and dispirited. “That lab in Dallas is looming in my future. Past. Whatever.”

  “We could at least try teleporting back to Austin in this time,” Colton suggested. “City. More sophisticated. Probably won’t jump to conclusions about us – not right off, anyway. If we’re careful.”

  “City? It probably has a population of about fifty thousand in 1957.”

  “That’s a city. In this time anyway.”

  “We could shoot for someplace bigger,” I suggested. “Dallas?”

  Ingrid and Colton both shuddered. “Not Dallas,” they said simultaneously.

  “We don’t know what Dallas looks like in 1957,” Jimmy pointed out.

  “Or anyplace else. Except right here – Britfield.”

  Ingrid shuddered again. “I’ve had enough of Britfield in 1957. Enough of it in October of 2017, for that matter.”

  “Hmm.” Jimmy held up a hand. “Say that again – about 2017?”

  “I’ve had enough of Britfield in 2017,” Ingrid repeated wearily.

  “In October of 2017.” Jimmy’s lips moved in silent calculation. “And when exactly were you trying to go in 2017?”

  “Back when we started, obviously. Well, actually a day before that, so we’d miss the festival.”

  “Lia?”

  “I don’t know when they started,” I pointed out.

  “No, no. When were you trying to get back to?”

  “Same thing, only later in the day. When we teleported.”

  “I’ve got it,” Jimmy said. “No, wait a minute… I keep losing it again…”

  There was a tense silence.

  “Okay. You told me that you guys can’t teleport into an existing object?”