Authors: P R Mason
“It does feel better,” Dad said. “But what is it?”
“An herbal remedy.” I took two more plants from my bag. “Mix up a poultice and apply this stuff to your shoulder at least two more times in the next two days”
“Honey, I think all this is unnecessary.”
“Please. Promise me.”
“It’s just a scratch. I’ll be okay.”
“Dad. Think. How did you get it?”
“Well, like I said. I had a weird dream. I think it made me walk in my sleep I woke up outside in the courtyard with this scratch.”
“Did you dream of a white blond haired woman-like creature who bit you?” I asked.
His eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know?”
“Dad, you were bitten by a ghoul. If you don’t treat this you’ll go crazy. Please trust me on this.”
“I must have told you about the dream before,” he said with a laugh. “That’s right. I just mentioned my dream to you.”
“But you didn’t mention the creature,” I reminded him.
“I must have.” He chuckled. “Funny. A ghoul. You had me going there for a minute.” He patted my hand.
“Please, just apply this stuff two more times. You don’t have to believe in the ghoul. Just do it. If you love me you’ll do it.” My eyes bored into his and I tried to pour every bit of seriousness into my gaze that I could muster.
Finally, he nodded. “Okay, honey. I promise.”
“Did you see how I made the poultice with these leaves and the olive oil?”
“Yes, Kizzy.” By his tone, he was clearly humoring me.
Pressing my lips to his cheek, I prayed he would follow through with his promise.
“I have to go, Dad.”
“Don’t think you’re going to avoid a talk about your driving.”
“Later okay? I have to get somewhere fast or the world will collapse on me.” At the front door, I turned and glanced back at my dad standing in the hall.
“Sure, sure.” He smiled. “You go. I have to get some sleep anyway.”
With one last lingering gaze, I opened the door and went outside. Once there, I decided to run back to the wormhole house. It might not be as fast as driving but at least it would be safer and less likely to get me thrown in jail.
Although I told my legs to move like a zooming rocket, I’d never won any track meets and never would. I ran over the uneven bricks that made up the sidewalk of Dad’s block. As I navigated around a square littered with people enjoying the sunshine for a fresh air lunch hour, my breath churned not just with the physical exertion but also with fear. Would I get back in time to go forward in time?
After about ten minutes, I arrived at the wormhole house and ran through the courtyard to the spiral staircase. However, when I rounded the corner, I discovered a major problem. The stairs were not where they had been. The entire metal section had broken away from the house and had fallen on its side. The flight of stairs leaned with the bottom half on the ground and the top touching the side of the house.
Damn, damn, damn. This wasn’t good. Something serious had shaken that thing loose.
Quickly, I scanned, searching the place for an alternate way to the upper floor veranda. Nothing seemed possible without climbing equipment to grapple my way up. I elected to climb the spiral staircase to the highest point where it leaned against the wall and then try to make the almost five foot leap to the veranda balustrade.
Since the staircase was on its side, I didn’t have the security of treads to mount. Instead, I scaled the edges of the steps and the winding banister. The structure wobbled and jiggled beneath me. I knew it wouldn’t take much for the metal section to topple completely to the ground with me pinned beneath it.
When I reached the summit of “mount metal”, I managed to pull myself to an unsteady standing position. With feet planted on the sides of separate stair treads, I prepared myself. This distance would have been much easier with a running start. Since I didn’t have one, I tried to create some momentum with swinging arm movement. As I brought my arms forward, with the staircase lurching beneath me, I leaped.
I leaped…and didn’t land exactly. I didn’t fall either. More precisely, I ended up clinging to the wrought iron balustrade over my head as my feet dangled. But my feet didn’t find anything to lever against since they were probably between the ceiling and the floor of the lower veranda.
To the left was one of the columns. If I could get my foot on that before I lost all feeling in my upper arms…
Somehow I managed to wedge the ball of my left foot on the column and used it to lift with my leg as I pulled with my arms. I finally came, with shaking legs, to a standing position on the edge of the veranda. I inched along that tiny edge until I got to the gap left by the loss of the metal stairs.
Once on the veranda, reaching the window to the bedroom wasn’t hard. The sight of the rope still attached where I’d left it was a thrill. The beam that had semi-blocked the entrance to the hall when Rom and I had crossed it with Namia stood in the same place. Gripping the rope like a banister, I ducked under the beam and entered the hall.
Although much more debris littered the floor, and the walls—not to mention ceiling—had more holes than Swiss cheese, there was no more undulating movement. No pitching and rolling of the floor. This lack of movement freaked me out.
What was happening? Had the wormhole collapsed? If so, was I trapped in the past? If I went further down the hall, could I be permanently stuck in some kind of limbo?
Clinging to the rope, I moved forward almost tiptoeing, and not just because of the gaps in the floorboards. Somehow I was afraid to create any vibration with my presence.
Without the movement of the walls and floor to distract me, I noticed that the rope I held, although taut, disappeared at a point about one foot ahead of me. When I walked that distance the rope was still there but disappeared another foot ahead. Having forgotten to breathe there for a few seconds, I consciously dragged in air and proceeded on.
Just as I reached the middle point of the passage, the hall began to shake and quake. Plaster and other materials fell on my head and around me. I felt the rope behind me fall limp. Terror coursed through me and I started to run. A sound like a freight train caused me to glance over my shoulder. The hall behind me was rolling up like a huge cosmic rug and that roll was about to overtake me.
“Rom,” I screamed, having no idea whether he would be able to hear me.
The rope ahead of me jerked hard, lifting me off my feet and hauling me, flying, forward. The weightlessness behind me also buoyed my body upward.
In front of me, I saw Rom, Zen, Petra, Senji and Chase partially within the hall, heaving at the rope hand over hand. Zen glanced up and his eyes widened and mouth dropped open, but he did not miss a beat towing in the rope.
Something nipped at my toes and I felt the tennis shoe on my right foot fly away. A tug of war waged. Which would win, my friends or the black void?
At the end of the hall my body hit Rom and the others as if I were a bowling ball and they were pins. All of us tumbled end over end down the stairs and into a pile atop one another on the landing at the bottom. As we struck, I heard the rolling freight train of the wormhole crashing above followed by complete silence.
My neck wasn’t broken and it seemed that, except for my shoe, nothing was missing. A laugh broke from me. Underneath me, Rom lifted his head and began laughing too. Zen, who lay under Rom, opened his eyes and chuckled. His chuckle quickly turned to a full-blown laugh. His arms came up around both Rom and me. Lying on the floor, we rocked in a giant hug as we continued laughing hysterically.
“I’m glad you guys think this is funny,” Petra said from under Zen. “But I’m being crushed here.”
“You think you have a complaint,” Senji, who was under Petra, drawled. “I’m lying on top of Chase and I think I’m turning him on.”
“Wait til I get out of here, Senji,” Chase yelled. “Turn on? I’ll tune you up, dude.”
Sparring with vampires, fighting with shape shifters, warring with ghouls... All that paled in comparison to the terror I felt as Zen’s van turned the corner to my home block and pulled to a stop at the curb.
“I'm sorry, Kizzy,” Senji said in the back of the van. He closed his cell phone. “Franky's still dead.”
My heart fell and bounced against my stomach.
“But there's one difference,” Senji continued. “He died in his sleep at home.”
So I had changed history, but not enough to save poor Franky. Had anything else changed?
What would I find in my own house?
After opening the passenger door and jumping out, I barreled across the sidewalk and up the steps only to find the front door locked. My hand shook as I extracted the key from its hiding place under a pot and tried to insert it into the lock. Rom finally took the key from my hand and opened the door for me.
Once inside, I dashed around scanning each room as Rom followed.
“Mom,” I yelled. My heart pounded so hard in my chest it sounded to my ears like the base of a rock band drum.
“I’m up here, honey,” Mom called from upstairs but I barely heard her because, through the French doors in the kitchen overlooking the courtyard, I spotted a small boy with familiar blond hair.
Scrambling to get through the doors, I screamed, “Adam.”
The blond head came up and my brother fixed me with wide blue eyes that immediately lit with a happy fire.
Kizzy,” he squealed and ran toward me.
Dizziness swamped me. Was this real?
Kneeling down, I waited for Adam's beloved weight to ram me before I wrapped my arms around him and swept him up into a twirling hug. One, two, three times we turned in a happy circle.
“Your arms are too tight,” Adam finally complained.
With my face pressed into his little neck, I luxuriated in the chocolate, soap and dirt smell of him. The feel of his small arms around my shoulders produced such a wide smile I thought my face would crack.
“Kizzy.” He wiggled. “You’re squeezing me.”
“I’m sorry.” I set him down on his feet. My fingers sifted through his silky hair. “I thought you were a tube of toothpaste.”
“You only have one shoe,” Adam noted, pointing at my foot.
“I gave it to a one-legged man,” I said.
Adam giggled. When he saw Rom, the smile fell from his face he sidled shyly around to hide behind my leg.
“This is my friend,” I said. “His name is Rom.”
“Hello Adam,” Rom said. “I understand you have the liking for dinosaurs.”
Adam peeked around my leg.
“They are to my liking, also. In fact, a T. Rex inhabits my household room.”
Venturing out from behind me, Adam moved directly in front of Rom.
“T. Rex is cool.” Adam reached into his pocket and took out a plastic toy. “My favorite is the Pterodactyl.” He offered the toy to Rom for inspection.
“A very fine specimen.” Rom turned the dinosaur over in his hands before giving it back to Adam.
A figure strode around the corner of the house into the courtyard from the outdoor gate. My father. The dad I’d always known before the bridge. The handsome dad. The hero dad.