Gone (Parallel Trilogy, Book 1) (5 page)

Shrugging my shoulders, I turned on the faucet and filled the glass to the brim with cold water, gulping it down. I set the glass on the counter and opened the fridge. The healthy food that I’d found in the cupboard had only been the beginning. There was so much fresh produce in the fridge that it didn’t all fit in one drawer, but filled the bottom shelf as well. Skim milk and non-fat yogurt occupied the higher shelves.

Mom must be on one of her crazy diets again, I thought, wondering what yummy treats I would miss.

Then I noticed the absence of noise, which was unusual when it came to my brothers.

Where is everyone? Are they out looking for me? Or maybe they’re somewhere else in the house.

I glanced around the kitchen, suddenly realizing that something was different. The kitchen table had shrunk. Yesterday it had been a long rectangular slab of oak, big enough to fit our family of six. But today it was a glass square, with only four chairs.

That’s weird, I thought as I went to the table and ran my fingers across the glass, a feeling of unease drifting into my mind like a mist. I grabbed my backpack and headed for the stairs, wanting to get cleaned up.

I stepped into the living room and looked at the unfamiliar furniture and the feeling of unease grew.

Could I be in the wrong house? I had approached it from the back. Maybe it was one that just looked like mine. After all, we hadn’t lived in our house very long. I could have made a mistake.

Walking to the front door, I stepped outside and stood on the front porch. There was the green picket fence, just like I remembered it. I walked to the side of the house and saw Goldie’s favorite place to dig. I even saw her favorite toy mostly hidden under a bush.

This is my house. But when did Mom and Dad buy the new furniture?

I went back inside and headed up the stairs toward my bedroom and saw my closed bedroom door. Stopping in front of it, I hesitated, then turned the knob and pushed the door open. When I saw what was inside, my mouth fell open, my backpack slipped from my fingers, and I felt my knees go weak.

My bedroom had been turned into a home gym. A treadmill, elliptical, and stationary bicycle lined up neatly in the middle of the room, all facing a wall-mounted television.

“What the –“ I whispered. Upset and scared, I went to my parent’s room, but two steps in I stopped. Their furniture was all wrong—nothing I had seen before. Then I noticed the picture frames displayed on top of the dresser. Hurrying over, I quickly glanced at them, then picked one up.

Breathless, I whispered, “Who the heck are you?”

I gently set the frame next to the others and felt my world begin to crumble. I didn’t know one person in any of the pictures. Unreality pounded through me.

What in the world is going on? Where is my family?

Clearly they didn’t live in this house anymore. A distressing thought filled my mind. Had they moved out as soon as I’d left? I shook my head. No. Don’t be ridiculous. They couldn’t have moved out and had someone else move in that fast.

Trying to push aside my utter bafflement, I tried to think about my survival. I wanted, no, needed, to find my family. But I didn’t know how long that would take and I knew from my recent experience in the woods that, at a minimum, I would need food and water.

Trying not to look at the unwelcome furnishings, I left the bedroom and went straight to the kitchen. I flung open the pantry door and unzipped my backpack, putting a few bottles of water inside. I grabbed a box of crackers and a package of dried fruit and added them as well.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a woman shrieked.

I spun around, startled to see someone standing there. The woman stared at me and I knew that with my filthy clothes I must look frightening. “I was just looking for my family,” I managed to say.

“In my pantry?”

“Well, no. This house. It’s my house.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, anger clear on her face. “It’s bought and paid for, thank you very much.” She stared at my feet. “And you’re tracking mud all through it.”

I glanced at my shoes, then looked at her. “But when did you buy it? When did you move in?”

“Weeks ago.”

“But I was just here yesterday and you didn’t live here.”

The woman looked at me like I had just gotten off the bus from crazy town.

“I don’t know who you are,” she said. “But I live here now.”

More confused than ever, I asked, “Do you know where the family went that used to live here?”

“I have no idea. They are not my problem.”

I noticed a look come across her face, almost like she felt guilty or something. Thinking I might ask the neighbors if they knew where my family had gone, I hefted my backpack onto one shoulder, grateful I had gotten a little bit of food.

“Where do you think you’re going with that?” the woman asked, a look of fury on her face, as if I was stealing her heirloom jewels.

“I’m going to find my family.” She stood between me and both the doorway to the living room and the back door through which I had originally come.

“You may not take my food.”

I noticed her fury was changing to distress.

“Do you have any idea how long it took me to save all that up?” Her hands were on her hips and her jaw clenched as she spoke.

I noticed she was pretty skinny and knew I could probably push past her easily enough.

“I’m sorry to take some of your food,” I said, almost feeling bad for her. “But I think I’m going to need it more than you.”

She looked me up and down, then squinted. “You could stand to lose a few pounds, missy.”

Shocked by her comment, my shoulders sagged. I thought I looked okay. Sure, I wouldn’t disappear if I lost a few pounds, but I was happy with my body. Then I became angry. Who is this skinny shrew to comment on my weight? I tightened the backpack on my shoulders and strode toward her.

She stepped in my path, but my face must have looked fierce because she quickly stepped aside when I got close to her. I walked past her and into the living room, then out the front door. As I walked out the front gate she yelled after me, “You’d better not show your face around here again or I’ll call the police.”

Eyeing her over my shoulder, I gave her a dirty look, angry at her for living in my house, even though I knew that didn’t make any sense. The whole thing didn’t make any sense.

How was it possible that my family had disappeared when I’d been with them, in that house, only the day before?

Chapter Five

Deciding it might not be such a great idea to stick around the neighborhood interviewing the neighbors—neighbors I’d never bothered getting to know—I walked as fast as I could, which wasn’t very fast with the heavy backpack on my shoulders, and headed away from my house. As I passed the path I had taken the night before, I stared down the wooded trail, but kept on walking, heading for the main road.

Five minutes later I reached the road and considered hitchhiking into town. Maybe in town I could find out what had happened to my family. I walked along the road, waiting for a car to come by so I could try to get a ride. No cars came and I kept walking, thinking about the strange things that were happening.

How is it possible that my family lived in that house mere hours ago, but are now gone? And the woman said she’s lived there for weeks. That’s impossible.
Impossible.

I tried convincing myself that this was just a nightmare and that I was asleep. I pinched my arm, hard, hoping I would wake up, but the only thing that happened was a sharp pain in my arm that was sure to leave a bruise. Tears of frustration filled my eyes.

I thought about my family. I would do anything to find them. Then I frowned at the irony. Yesterday I had been so mad at Mom that I couldn’t wait to run away from home. Today I was devastated that I couldn’t be with her and Dad. I even missed Amy and my little brothers.

Trudging along the road, I tried to think of a reason, any reason, why they had disappeared. Nothing came to mind.

Finally I came to a bus stop that had a bench and a wooden structure shading it, probably built by some boy trying to earn his Eagle Scout award. That was fine with me. All I wanted was a place to stop and have something to eat.

I dropped onto the bench, exhausted, and set the backpack on the seat next to me. I nibbled on some dried fruit, then drank some water. After my hunger was partially satisfied, I reached into a side pocket and pulled out a small notebook along with a pen. My hand trembled as I set the small notepad on my lap. I clutched the pen in my other hand until the shaking stopped, then forced myself to write.

My name is Morgan Campbell. I’m sixteen years old and I don’t understand what is happening.

 
I set the pen down and stared at the empty street, slouching on the bench, wondering if a bus would actually be coming. Fresh confusion swept over me and I gnawed on the inside of my lip.
What is happening? Where is my family?
Squeezing my eyes closed, I tried to make sense of the last twenty-four hours.

But nothing made sense.

Trying to focus my thoughts on something constructive to do, I decided to write down the steps I could take to find my family. Trying to distract myself from the bizarre errand I was now on, I concentrated on using my best penmanship.

Find a computer and Google them or find a phone book and look them up.

I stared at what I’d written. “It’s not much of a list,” I murmured. Pen poised over the paper, I had no idea what else to write.

The rumble of a bus saved me from thinking too hard about my situation. Quickly stuffing my notebook and pen into the side pocket of my backpack, I pulled out my wallet. The door to the bus whooshed open and I climbed the steps, stopping next to the bus driver.

“How much to ride the bus?” I asked.

He barely glanced my way. “Two dollars.”

Unzipping the compartment on my wallet where I kept the bills, I frowned as I looked inside. I was living off the cash I’d had in my wallet and I didn’t have a penny over thirty dollars.

Maybe I can stop by the bank and withdraw some of my savings, I thought.

The bus driver cleared his throat and threw a look my way. Frowning, I dug out two dollars and shoved them into the receptacle then turned toward the seats. There were only a handful of people on the bus. I sat in the first empty seat, which was in the front row, but not the one behind the bus driver. I never liked to sit right behind the bus driver; I always felt like I was being watched when I sat there.

He pulled the handle to close the door and we lumbered down the road. I knew it would take at least ten minutes to reach town, having driven there with my family a few times. I watched the blur of trees as we sped past the forest. The trees changed to meadows and I stared at the few houses we passed, wondering if my family could be in one of them.

When the bus stopped in the center of town I climbed off, dragging my backpack with me. I headed down the main street, on the lookout for a place to use a computer. Starting off in a random direction, I looked at the store fronts as I passed. Boutiques, bookstores, and mom and pop diners lined the road. Nothing with public access to a computer. But then it occurred to me that one of the stores might have a phone book, which would also have the information I needed.

A few minutes later I found myself standing in front of the
Come on Inn Diner
. It looked like they had rooms available above the diner, which must be where the
Inn
part of the name came from. I opened the door and the smell of hamburgers wafted toward me, making my stomach growl.

Ignoring my first impulse to go right to the counter, I made my way to the ladies room and pushed through the door. I saw two stalls, but both were unoccupied. Glad to be alone, I went to the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. Normally I kept my wavy dark-blonde hair under control, but now it stuck up in several places. Plus my face needed washing.

No wonder that woman at my house looked scared of me, I thought. I’m a mess.

I set my backpack on the floor, then splashed warm water on my face. I ran my wet hands through my hair, forcing it to behave. I grabbed a handful of paper towels and dried my face and hands, then used the damp paper towels to wipe the dirt off of my shoes.

Tossing the dirty paper towels in the trash, I looked in the mirror again and thought I looked presentable, even if I didn’t look my best. Just then a woman walked in and went into a stall. I grabbed my backpack and left, heading directly toward the counter.

Sliding onto a stool, I picked up the menu, deciding I could take a moment to eat something before continuing my quest. The menu choices were a bit surprising: veggie burgers, low-fat soups and salads, low-calorie deli sandwiches. I’d never had a veggie burger before, but was too hungry to be picky and decided to order one with all the fixings, along with a diet soda.

“What can I get you, hon?” the waitress asked, her pencil at the ready on her notepad.

I told her what I wanted and she didn’t respond, but stared at me. Finally she said, “Don’t you think you’d prefer one of our low-fat soups? The vegetable minestrone is especially good.”

I felt my eyebrows furrow. “Is there something wrong with the veggie burger?”

“Oh no. It’s fantastic.” She smiled, showing straight white teeth framed by bright red lips.

“Then why would I want the soup?”

She glanced in the direction of my waist, then met my eyes. “Veggie burger it is.”

When she turned around to give the order to the cook, I looked down at my stomach self-consciously and sat up straighter, sucking in my gut. That was twice today someone had suggested I needed to lose weight. I couldn’t believe how rude some people were.

A short time later the waitress placed my order in front of me, a look of disapproval on her face. I almost said something rude to her, but instead asked if she had a phone book I could look through. A moment later she placed one on the counter next to my plate and I eagerly flipped to the C’s. Running my finger down the page, I saw there were a lot of Campbell’s. My finger stopped when I reached
Campbell, Steven and Roxanne
. My gaze followed my finger as it moved to the address listed across from the name.