Part One 11,004 words
(fast draft for NaNoWriMo)
The day started like any other day. Joe snuck the Halloween candy that I told him not to. Jacob ate his breakfast and Joe's but forgot his lunch. I woke up late to boot. I hate rushed mornings. Ever try to rush a sleepy seven and six year old? It ain't pretty.
Looking back at the day, I wish I could rush every morning. I wouldn't mind, if I could just be with my boys again. Yell at them, fix their peanut butter and jelly on white, hear them complain about how they don't want to go to school and me complain about how I don't want to go to work.
But that's a lie. I wanted to go to work. I never wanted to get out of bed, but once I'm awake, I had to admit, I _wanted_ to get to work as soon as I could. This project had kept us coming in early and staying late for years now and it finally began to pay off. Little things, yes, but we were making progress. We accomplished small steps this year. Could mark checks by our milestones, some of them even early than predicted, which helped with the funding.
Now, as I stared out of this plastic cocoon, floating above the earth, I wish we'd gone slower, made more mistakes, never accomplished our goals. I had never wished for failure in my life. This one time, I think I could stand it.
I don’t know how long I’d been like this. Palms pressed against the transparent polyform wall, somehow I knew that. Earth swung below me in its blue white brown splendor. The land masses, when visible, looked familiar. There, right there, where the land curved in, was the Gulf of Mexico and with a guess, a dot or two north-east would be home. There was some comfort in the recognition. Home. Somewhere down there was home.
Never again would the land masses be recognizable as they are in the text books. How I knew this, I couldn’t say, but I knew it with a sad certainty. Never again could I point from space and say , hey, there's Florida jutting out from America like a nasty finger or the boot of Italy or see the western hangnail of the Mexican Baha, now just an underwater condo for fish in the Pacific, and California quickly becoming the new unnatural western uncoral reef.
I closed my eyes, confused. I remember things I should not know. Things I didn’t know before. This morning I fixed breakfast for my kids as divorced parent. I drove to work and my day proceeded no different than any other day. The coffee. Mark’s bad humor. I didn’t work in space. I worked at XX Labs as an engineer. We’re experimenting with the effects of resonance and dimensions. It’s complicated.
We began by merely cataloguing the resonant frequency of everything, and I do mean every thing – a tree, a cat, grass, rocks, you name it, working our way up to people. Have you seen how a particle accelerator records matter and anti-matter? Well, we figured out a similar way to study other dimensions, or planes of existence, other universes, we weren’t really sure what we would find, only that something was there and we wanted to know what
Curiousity killed the cat. And guess what? It put me here in this bubble and I have no idea how to get back. Like I said, it’s complicated. Apparently we complicated me right out of the lab to somewhere else. At least, I hope it’s as simple as that.
Other coccoon bubble things floated in space. I saw two more distinctly and what might have been four or five others but it was hard to tell. When not filtered by the earth’s atmosphere, sunlight lit up anything it touched like a bright white light and where it didn’t touch, darkness wasn’t just dark, it was so black it looked like it would suck my soul into it.
From the transparent tube in space I watch a dance of space disks float around the planet. These were the space grids for the RezFreQ Project. They needn't be equi-distant, I knew, but they did have certain minimum standards that must be kept for maximum effect. Too close to each other, and any feedback could disturb the disk next to it, then the next disk, and so on, until it dominoed down the line, or around the planet I should say and rendered them useless for their task. ReFreQ was still new. Only worst case scenerios had absolute data. The rest were shades of grays and guesses, speculations from reams of data and opinion.
Somehow there was enough oxygen mix to breathe. No food though. I wore a suit, skin tight, reminded me of a scuba diving outfit but thinner. No gloves, which I found curious. I saw no equipment in the tube thing yet I wasn’t chilled as I should have been, or just plain frozen in the cold of space. Shoes matched the material of the suit.
I sat. I ran my hands through my hair. They were my hands – the same popped up veins, the same curved fingers. And it was my hair only much shorter, cropped close to my head. I’d never worn my hair this short. Well maybe when I was born. I am me, but I am not me. Who am I?
What exactly did happen in the lab?
We had gone through the sequence, as methodically and boring as any other day. One more time. Only this time, we included one more step. After locking in the frequency, we set the calculations for time and space, to place the object, a rock, from one spot on the floor to another. It should have either worked or not worked. We never thought to consider that we hadn’t completely contained the frequency interference. The numbers all looked so clean. The calculations all lined up. It looked so simple.
My pod moved. At least I think it moved. It vibrated against my skin. I looked around. There behind me, between me and the moon, some machine ship looking thing hovered, getting closer, growing bigger. Was this a good thing? Someone tell me this isn’t an alien ship about to cook me as an appetizer.
God, would I splat against that rust bucket bolted metal side? But no. The side opened and in I floated. I took deep breaths. Calm down. I can wing this surely. Not like I have a choice.
The plastic pod settled onto a suction like xthingx. The side slit open like some membrane parting. Creepy. Loathe to touch it, I hopped out.
A door slid open on the wall across the room. I headed toward it as other pods floated in.
“Ma’am.” A smart looking officer in olive drab saluted. “Captain on the deck.”
The officer faced me, his arm stiffly bent, his hand touching his forehead. All the other people in the room stood, if they were sitting, and all saluted. I turned to look behind me. I rubbed my palms on my thighs.
Something automatic took over. I saluted casually and said “You’re relieved, seargent.” And plopped into the command chair. Flashes of Star Trek lept into my brain and it was all I could do not to giggle aloud. I didn’t know what was going on, whether this was real or delusional, but I wasn’t about to let anyone know I verged on cracking up. I cleared my throat. “Report.”
“The bombing has stopped. Most of the ships have been xxx, the others being hunted now.”
“Damage?” I remembered seeing ballooning blobs of clouds on the planet while I was floating around in that space bean. At the time, I thought them pretty. They started out bright white and grew and grew into pink and red and orange, then disapated, the land under it hazy and gray.
“Most major cities a direct hit. New York, DC, Atlanta, Dallas, L.A. SAC bases not reporting in are Minot xxx and all NORAD sites have been hit.” The seargent shrugged. “Looks like all that’s left is the small stuff.”
Small stuff. I don’t think the people in Wyoming or Oklahoma (use states that didn’t get bombed) think of themselves as small stuff. My heart beat hard. Dallas. You can’t hit Dallas without affecting Ft. Worth and the surrounding suburbs. I lived there, in one of the little towns that clung on the fringes of the big city. Small town life with big town benefits.
At least, I used to live there. Did I live there now? I kept telling myself this is a different universe. Joe and Jake are fine. They’ll come home from school today and do their homework and watch cartoons and mess up the house as usual. And wait for me to come home. I closed my eyes. Surely, someone from the lab will take care of that. Find someone to watch the boys or get them over to my sister’s, something. God, please don’t let them be alone at night.
Captains don’t cry. I rubbed my temples in an effort to hide the fact that I really rubbed the tears from my eyes. Apparently they don’t wear makeup either. Maybe I should set a new precedent for Captain’s decorum when your world is destroyed. I’ll have to put that in my personal log. I heard “Captain’s log, stardate … “ in a British male voice in my head and I smiled. A whole other universe indeed.
Dizzy and disoriented, I collapsed to my knees.
“Casey!” Hands grabbed my arms and pulled me to my feet. “Are you OK?”
“What happened?”
“How do you feel?”
I shook my head. Someone handed me a paper cup of tepid water and I was grateful for it. I gulped it down, crumpled the cup and dropped it to the floor. The floor and people around me teetered sickeningly.
“Casey.”
Mark stared at me soberingly. “Mark. It’s you.” I laughed. I was home.
“Of course it’s me. Who else would it be?”
“A monkey.” My usual response. We laughed.
“You gave us a scare, girl. We called an ambulance. Should be here any minute.” Mark stood and tossed a handful of papers on his desk.
“Ambulance?” I made a valiant effort to stand without help. “What the hell is going on here?”
“That’s what we want to know. But we need you checked out first.” He always had those steady blue eyes, like anchors in a storm. Anchors I locked onto.
“Can we talk alone a moment?” I forced a congenial smile, professional, but cold inside. My co-workers seemed relieved and took advantage of the opportunity to take a break.
Once the door closed, I rounded on Mark. “What the hell? What happened? One minute I’m testing the wiring and the next I’m hanging in space then I’m here ready to puke.”
“Case. We gotta put a lid on this. Our funding will get cut if this snafu gets out.”
“Funding? Snafu? This is a hell of a lot more than a snafu, Mark. Let’s start with FUBAR. Huh?”
“Hey, hey. Calm down. You’re here now. It’s OK.”
“Speaking if here. How long was I gone?” I chewed my lip, anxious to know but not really wanting to know. How were my boys? That’s what I really wanted to know.
“Only a few minutes. You faded in and out and what’s interesting is that you didn’t reappear in the same spot that you left. That means it’s working, don’t you see? So it’s imperitive we keep this business of disappearing to a minimum. Act like we wanted it to happen.” Marks voice sounded eager, excited. If he only knew.
“A few minutes?” I pulled up the closest stool and sat. “But I was gone hours. I was in a whole other universe, Mark. I was,” I waved above my head, “out there. In space. Watching the earth being attacked.”
He looked at me and cocked his head, like a dog who can’t understand what he hears. “Case, it’s not even noon yet. You left about eleven thirty.” He pointed at the round clock on the wall over our heads.
I looked up. He was right. It was 11:50 am. “It’s still Monday?”
He nodded.
“I can’t explain it, Mark. I was somebody else. A captain. In a space ship. Getting damage reports. Giving orders. But I was still me.”
“Don’t tell that to anyone. No, I’m serious. Either nobody would believe you or they’d think you were crazy. We need time to look into this. We think we know what went wrong, but we need you to verify it.” Mark’s gaze bored into mine.
I nodded. “No problem. It was crazy.”
Medical techs entered the room and Mark waved them toward me. “She fainted and fell to the floor.” Mark explained to them. The company is liable for accidents, so it is only logical that medics would be called for something like this.
I let them check me over, blook pressure, temp, pulse rate, listen to my heart which must have been racing, but they didn’t seem to notice or were too professional to comment and asked me if I wanted to ride in the ambulance with them to the hospital or see my own doctor. I said I’d see my own doctor and they left.
Adrenaline drop. I gathered my bag from my desk after my co-workers returned. “I’m heading out for lunch. I’ll be back in an hour.” I headed out. I didn’t know where I was going, but I had to get out, see my world, feel it firm beneath my feet, make sure Dallas was still here with it’s steel blue sheen. The sun hit my eyes hard when I stepped out. Typical Texas autumn. I headed to my car and drove home, thinking the whole time about what I’d seen from space.
I pulled into my driveway and looked at my house. It was a beautiful sight. The grass was green. The weeds were green and just as beautiful. I tried to memorize every bit of scenery as I walked up the sidewalk to the door, grabbed the mail from the mailbox and unlocked it and went in. God, what a wonderful feeling to be home. I bought this house because it felt good. I think houses have feelings and emote feelings. I don’t know whether they absorb the feelings of the previous owners or come that way, but this house felt good from the first time I stepped through the door so I bought it. I certainly couldn’t say the same of the spaceship.
I took off my shoes and undressed, letting the clothes drop where they lay, and got in the shower. Hot water pounding my skin wouldn’t make me forget my day, but it would wash away some of the sweat from fear both from being scared for my life and from being scared for my sanity. I don’t know which is worse. I think maybe sanity.
It was time to make backup plans for the boys. I had put it off far too long. They always had the neighbors for short term but what if I hadn’t returned today, or at all? I leaned against the cold tile. God. Thank you for letting me live in this world with my boys.
Were they too young for a cell phone? Maybe a nanny after school. I’ll start looking this afternoon. In the meantime, I’ll get Kerry to watch them after school. She was home every day and I hated to ask her, not really knowing her much, but what choice did I have? All she needed to do was make sure they were safe and if I didn’t show at a decent time, call my sister. That wasn’t so hard.
Feeling better having made a decision, I finished my shower and put on clean clothes. I made a quick balogna and cheese sandwich and called Kerry. That done, I headed back to work.
I didn’t look forward to the afternoon, but it had to be done. We had to figure out what happened and why. There was more going on here than simple resonant frequency.
The techs looked hassled. I lifted an eyebrow at Mark. He rolled his eyes and said, “Let’s go through this one more time. Casey, if you’ll check the wiring as you were before, we’ll step through this process cold before going hot again.”
Sounded reasonable to me. If he had said we were going back to power and me at the wiring, I’d have been backpeddling faster than a circus panda on a reverse unicycle. I was in no hurry to repeat this morning’s “snafu”.
I removed the side panel to the power generator and set it aside. Inside the equipment hummed. A beautiful sound to my ears. I took a plastic pick in one hand and the instruction sheet in the other. “Ready.”
Step by slow step, we wound our way through the instruction manual. All seemed normal and within parameters. Nothing that I could see in the wiring panel could have caused any problems. The windings were correct – in the right order, the correct number of windings, the right size wire, etc. The more energy the generator box consumed, the more static it exuded. The hairs on my arms vibrated. My skin prickled. But that’s as far as it got before we finished with the process and shut it down.
“That’s without all the windings powered up.” Mark studied his manual and jotted notes in the margins.
“I know.” I stepped back, just in case the machine had a mind of its own. I wasn’t taking any chances.
“OK take five then we’ll power up fully.”
I glanced over to Mark. He wasn’t looking at me. His gazed riveted to the manual. I knew he was ignoring me in his own professional way. I didn’t want to appear chicken, but this was my life we were experimenting with.
Don’t know if you’ve ever done this type of thing, but it’s not exciting. The idea of it is. But when you’re doing it, the excitement can get lost in the minutia. The details bog you down. Something isn’t right. Gotta stop, start again, repeat it until it is right. Fix it, wait for that, replace a part, wait for that, start again. It’s a miracle anything ever gets finished. In some masochistic manner, we trudged through the dry run and by late afternoon, we took a break.
Mark motioned me over. “Any idea what went wrong?”
I shrugged. “Wiring is per spec. Has to be something else. Has Lisa run a diagnostic on the motherboard? Software maybe?” I ventured into the programming possibility gently. That was Mark’s baby. One doesn’t attack another one’s baby directly, at least not and expect to come out unscathed.
“We did that while you were gone.” He chewed the end of his mechanical pencil. It’s not as satisfying as chewing the end of a regular pencil, I knew, because I had the same bad habit. Plastic just didn’t have the same texture and grit as wood and metal and eraser. You’d think by now someone would have gotten smart and sold some mechanical pencils with chewing gum or taffy on the top.
I folded my arms and thought. We had to do this again. There was no way to be sure without risking another full run. And there was no way I would let anyone else near that machine while it was fully charged, not now.
“Mark. If it happens again.” I shook my head and waved off his denial. “I’m just saying. If. My boys. The next door neighbor agreed to watch them for me in the afternoons till I get home from work, and if I don’t, she has my sister’s number. But I’d feel better if I knew I had a backup for my backup.”
“You want me to take care of them?” Mark seemed a little taken back. Poor guy, single and swinging, or so he likes to think of himself.
“No, I just want to know that you’ll make sure they get to my sister and she understands what is going on.” He started to protest. “She doesn’t have to know the details. I know it’s classified. Jesus, Mark, you don’t have to tell me that. Just make sure they are SAFE. Promise that, will you?” I handed him Tammy’s phone and address.
The rest of the crew filed in from the break room. Lisa handed me a cola. “Diet is out, sorry.”
I took the cold can and popped the top, thanking her as she walked toward her work station.
“Yeah, sure, no problem.” He took it and stuffed it in his pocket. He smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. “Not to worry, Case. Everything is working just fine. You’ll see.”
Power hummed around us. I loved the feel of it. Like I was the big bass speaker vibrating. I walked around the equipment checking readouts, pushing buttons, flipping switches as needed. All within operating parameters. Looking good. I checked off each step.
I walked around to the back of the unit and opened the panel that held the majority of the wiring. Large wads of wires fed in through rubber ringed holes in the side. Once inside, each wad separated into a color spray of individual wires like slender fingers and fed into the connector panel, a board with posts for each wire to connect to, actually wire-wrapped for this project, that would link it up to the correct circuit.
I always thought this the most beautiful part of electronics, the routing of wires. There is an art to these things that most don’t appreciate. How things are done. The graceful arcs of the wires from the side wall to their posts were mathematically correct I’m sure, but who was doing the math? I was just appreciating the color and symmetry, the arcs and lines and spacing, the gold points of the posts glittering as I shone my penlight on them.
The hair on my arms stiffened. My skin prickled and warmed. I smiled. Was this how Marie Curie felt? Or Nikola Tesla? Thanks to Tesla, all this was possible. Where would we be without his genius? I knew what they said behind my back. I overheard some of the lab techs calling me Ms. Tesla. And I thought, what an honor they do me. What a freaking honor.
All the connections looked good. But then, they had all looked fine this morning too. I snapped the panel closed and snapped off my penlight, turned it around to write the results in my notebook. My notes appeared blurry. I realized my head throbbed. Time for some aspirin. I clipped the pin to the page and turned to make my way back to my desk.
And stepped onto sand. Hot, dry, yellow sand as far as I could see.
White robes whipped around me as I turned around. Camels loaded with packs and other robbed figures sat atop them. In spite of the tinted goggles, I held my hand over my eyes. Cloth covered everything else. I looked past the group. The wind blew sand over our footprints as I watched. I looked at the sky. The sun was just above the horizon in the east. We headed west.
One man swatted his camel and loped up beside me. “Madam, if we do not keep moving, we will lose precious time.”
I nodded. A boy brought a camel to me and helped me mount. Thank goodness. Not quite like a horse. I nodded to the man who had spoken, and followed him.
Jesus H. Christ. Where was I? When was I? This was quickly becoming ridiculous. The first time was a fluke, but a second? Mark better fix something and fix it fast. Already sweat trickled in every crease of my body. I itched and wanted a shower already. I lumbered along, my body swaying right and left with each step of the camel. My spine would get badly out of alignment by noon at this rate. Why couldn’t I land someplace nice, like an air conditioned spa in Hawaii with waiters and mai tai’s? Or some rich woman’s penthouse with maids and a butler and room service?
Long long miles of sand stretched before me in all directions. Plenty of wind, but it was hot and stung the skin, the sand in the wind abraiding whatever it touched. Depressing. Instead, I took stock of what I had closer to me – four full water skins (were those goat bladders or something more exotic?), one empty, two large leather bags hung over the camel’s rump or back or hump, camel anatomy eludes me, netted bags of fruit hung beside them. I felt my robes, discreetly. I couldn’t tell, but I could be the only woman in this group, and found an Almond Joy, soft inside it’s wrapper, a cell phone, pens in the left front shirt pocket, (nice to know I’m still a geek), and a shoulder holster with a pistol of some kind.
Guns and me don’t get along. What if I was supposed to be able to shoot this thing? And actually hit a target? Then I noticed the rifle buckled onto the front of the saddle. I looked side to side to see if anyone thought this unusal, but everyone had one.
I traveled for hours, swaying on this stinking camel, watching the sun rise higher and higher. I wanted to close my eyes, but I was afraid I’d fall off. What was Mark doing? I shouldn’t be here this long. Something must have really gone wrong this time. My heart sank.
At midday we stopped in the shade of a jagged boulder and ate our meager rations. I call them rations because I don’t know what I ate and afraid to ask. So I just chewed the leathery stuff and drank the tepid water. Four men tended the baying camels. Three others sat near me. Not with me. But not far enough away to be completely insulting. Yep. They knew I was a woman.
I rested my head on my knees and closed my eyes. I must have dozed off because I thought I was home, tucked into a warm bed, when I heard men shouting at the camels. When I glanced up, men ran everywhere, camels bellowed and ran away from them. I smiled. A regular circus show.
Above me came a loud hum. I looked up. From the north, low in the sky, a dot grew bigger and bigger. One man yelled at me in a foreign language, perhaps Arabic? He used shooing motions. I stepped back to the rock’s shadow, what little it had in the middle of the day. I wondered how they would hide the camels, but somehow they had gathered them and held their reins, standing with them on the other side of the rock.
I turned to watch the dot. Now I could make out more details. Sunlight bounched off its silver plating. It had wings, sleek and full to the body as far as I could tell. So it was no passenger jet. But I couldn’t tell which country it belonged to. Hell. At this point, I didn’t know which country I belonged to.
The plane zoomed overhead. From what I could see, I think it was ours. Rather, the U.S. Recon? Taking pictures? Flying below radar? Who knew. I was sad to see it go.
We regrouped and headed out again. My God the heat. I’m not cut out for field work, much less the desert. I don’t even do sauna’s. Soon the rhythm lulled me into a stooper and I let myself daydream, only half paying attention to my surroundings.
We stopped. I wasn’t complaining. But we still had a few hours yet before sunset. The men spoke in hushed tones. One motioned for me to stay low, so I sat in the sand. The man who took my camel slid my rifle from its satchel and handed it to me along with a long box. I thanked him. I don’t know why I thanked him, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with the blasted thing.
I snapped the locks on the case and opened it. I took a deep breath. Inside were powerful magnifying scopes, night vision goggles and some equipment I had no idea of its use. I knew the scopes went to the rifle. I had no idea how to attach them. I closed the case.
We sat on the east side of a large dune. I hadn’t bothered looking over it. This sandbox was getting pretty dull. I was ready for a swim. I sighed. Come on Mark. Come on. Get me out of this.
Last time I had some residue of information from the me that had inhabited the body before I butted in. But as much as I rummaged around in this brain, I hadn’t found a damned thing. Maybe if I just relaxed, it’d come.
So I relaxed. I sat cross-legged and regulated my breathing. I thought about the sand and the plane that flew over us. There. A flash of something. Gone. I shook my hands and rolled my shoulders. I chanted softly. Ohm. After a few moments, I can’t say minutes because when you’re really meditating, time has no reference, images flashed again. A man’s image – tall, tan kahki’s and cap, and he looked vaguely familiar. A large conference table. A plane on a tarmac. Door open. Steps down. That man again, walking down the steps, waving, smiling. People thronged behind guards and gates. A red dot appeared on the man’s forehead, then a black dot and he fell.
My eyes shot open. And with the images came knowledge. Hands shaking, I opened the case, removed the scope and assembled it to the rifle. I wanted to puke, but I kept my teeth clenched. I still wore my darkened goggles. I scooted to the top of the dune.
I settled into the sand where if someone were looking, they wouldn’t see a thing unless they knew to look for the end of the barrell or the scope. And as I lay there, more sand blew over me. I peered through the scope and adjusted it. There was a tarmac xxxx (how far) away. It looked freshly laid, black and shiney in the dazzling sun. I saw no audience, only military jeeps and a black limosine that had just driven up. A black man dressed like a waiter exited the driver’s seat and stood by the hood. Guards walked a perimeter. We were plenty outside of that perimeter.
The setting sun cast long shadows. Finally, a plane (jet?) descended quickly. It hit the tarmac fast, but stopped before the landing ended. I focused on the passenger door as it opened and the steps opened to the ground. My heartbeat raced. I knew my adrenaline was going through the roof and it shouldn’t be. The real person here would be a lot calmer, at least, I hoped so.
Heat wavered the air from the black asphalt. This all seemed so surreal. I kept my focus on the door. Into view stepped a caucasian man, dressed in tan kahki’s and cap. This was the one that seemed familiar. He laughed and stepped out of the plane. Was this the man I was to kill? I felt no compunction to do so. I had to trust her instincts. I took more deep breaths, getting grit in my nose.
Into view stepped another man. Fire! I almost dropped the gun. My mind yelled at me. Fire, dammit! Fire! My finger squeezed the trigger as my skin prickled. I didn’t know if it was from shock or another transition. I felt the click of the rifle as my vision blurred and I vibrated out of that world. I never knew if I had hit Mark or not.
*
I landed hard on cold cement. I wanted to retch but took long deep breaths instead.
“Hey Bitch! Get out of the road.” Horns blared and tires squealed.
My vision wasn’t yet 20/20 but I could tell it was night and I landed in the middle of a busy intersection. One car swerved to miss me and landed in the side of another. The lane I blocked had the stopped cars. I stood on wobbily feet. Heels. A skirt. I smoothed the skirt down my thighs, and noticed it didn’t go as far as I wanted it to, and stumbled toward the nearest curb. I must have looked like a drunk. I certainly felt drunk. I wished I was drunk.
A cold lampost held me up while I took stock. My heels came first because looking down came easy till my stomach settled. I would never buy these shoes. Six inch stilletos, with ankle straps. Black seemed hose. Short red leather skirt that barely touched the top of my thighs. A white crop top that barely covered the essentials, letting a bright red lacey bra show all around. Bright red long nails. Hair teased. No doubt my face looked like some showgirl on broadway. At least it wasn’t space or sand. At least I was on earth.
Men passed, some whistling, some asking how much. I avoided eye contact. These shoes had to go. I hated to ruin the hose but it couldn’t be helped. Two hundred dollars itched inside my bra cups. Time for some dinner and some thinking.
I walked several blocks to an all night diner. I didn’t want to be seen sitting down on the job, so to speak. No telling what kind of trouble that might cause. The vinyl seat chilled my legs as I slid across the booth. I wore garters. I suppose pantyhose would be bad for business.
I ordered coffee and breakfast, propped my feet up on the opposite seat and leaned my head back and closed my eyes. This was too much. When the food arrived I dug in, famished.
I was sopping up the last of the pancakes when a big burly black man slid into the seat opposite me. “Well, Casey, think you can walk off the job anytime you want?”
That didn’t sound good. All the seventies movies of pimps and prostitutes popped into my head. I sipped my coffee.
He ordered a coffee. “Boss ain’t gonna be none too happy.”
I shrugged. I was getting good at this nonverbal communication.
“Well. Shift’s almost over anyway. I won’t tell if you won’t.” When he smiled, his front gold tooth flashed in the overhead lamplight.
I rubbed the back of my neck, afraid to say anything at this point.
“You got a ride home?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t mind dropping you off. The Sarge said we can finish the paperwork tomorrow when we come in since we stayed so late.”
“That’s awfully human of him.”
“Yeah. No joke. He’ll probably rail us in the morning anyway. His substitue for caffeine.” He sipped his coffee. “How’d you land this job? You get tired of pushing papers?”
“Something like that.”
“Well. You could do worse. Sarge ain’t too bad once you get used to him. You did alright out there tonight for your first time.”
“Thanks.” First time. I’m a cop. That was my first time in the field in vice (?). That’s interesting. I never wanted to be a cop. “Excuse me, I need to powder my nose.”
He laughed and waved his fingers. “I’ll be here.”
I got up as ladylike as the short skirt allowed and headed to the back of the deli for the restrooms. I was dying to see what this getup looked like and rummage through the purse.
The flourescent bulb flickered, casting a faint yellow tint on everything, making my skin look sallow and jaundiced. My makeup indeed looked cartoonish – black lined eyes, fake eyelashes, bright purple shadow. And the hair. A funky blue streaked down one side. It’ll be hell getting the tangles out of that. I rifled through the purse – aspirin, good I needed that, Timex watch, loose change that looked the same as in my world, old receipts, a paperback, some kind of murder mystery, not my normal taste, a small package of tissue, and a red leather wallet. I took out the wallet and looked inside.
My face stared back at me from the drivers license. Behind it hid the badge and police card. In other slots sat an insurance card, a bank card, two credit cards, Mastercard and American Express, various business cards that meant nothing to me and in the side she had another hundred dollars. This girl carried a lot of cash on her. Maybe it was for the job. I rarely carried cash, relying instead on my bank card.
I stuffed everything back into the purse and headed out of the bathroom and back to the booth. The undercover cop was still there, his bulk tight between the table and seat. I thought you had to be fit to be a cop. I sat.
“I’m ready when you are.” I stuffed the stilletos in my purse.
He waved for the check. We paid and left. This city didn’t look any different than any other city – cars, people, stores, buildings, neons signs, transients, trash. Sounded the same. Smelled the same. As I followed this guy to his car, I wondered if this was my world and I just landed in another place? No, that wouldn’t be consistent with how I’ve traveled so far. I’ve taken the body of myself in other existences, universes, whatever you want to call them. So it wouldn’t make sense there would be two of me in the same world.
He held the door open on the passenger side of a Lexus. I smiled and sat inside. Even though this was a different world, normal felt good. Things I recognized and understood as part of my own world like cars and diners and flush toilets was a nice change.
Downtown faded into darkness. Now only highway lights lit our path. We headed west. Home. I glanced at him slyly. He smoked a PallMall, his left hand letting the cig dangle between two fingers out the window. I looked at the dashboard. Labels in English. That’s a good start. I took a brush out of my purse and used it to untangle my hair while I contemplated. I knew I was frowning. The tugging and pulling of rats out of my hair would cover my frown, I hoped.
We headed toward my home. Where I lived in my own universe. How did he know where this Casey lived? I searched my mind but nothing came up. At least the thought of it didn’t sound any alarms. However, my stomach had butterflies.
He turned off Interstate 30 onto 360 south and in a few minutes pulled up to my door, pretty as you please. I pasted a smile and stuffed the brush in my purse.
“Thanks man.” I opened the door.
“What. No kiss?” He puckered.
“How about kiss my ass?” I slid out of the car quickly.
“I’ll do that, anytime baby.” He laughed.
I slammed the door, waved, and walked up the sidewalk, all the time hoping he’d just drive off. He did. The sound of the engine disappeared as he drove down the street and turned the corner. Whew.
I looked at my house. Same house. I put a shakey hand to my mouth. My eyes watered. Who was in there? Would I get to see my babies in another world? Would I have a husband? Other children? I sat on the steps a moment, gathering my patience. The damned cement chilled my bare ass cheeks, not mention it was none too smooth. I unsnapped the garters and peeled off the hose. I used one to blow my nose and wipe my eye makeup. Let me warn you. Nylon is not the most absorbant material.
The porchlight came on, blinding me. The front door opened.
“Casey?” A dark-skinned woman about my age wearing a large T-shirt stepped on the porch. She bent down and took my shoulders in her hands. “Honey, come inside. I have to wait long enough in that bed alone as it is and here you sit on the front porch catching your death.”
Her hands rubbed my upper arms and encouraged me to stand. I stood then followed her inside my own house, my mind racing to keep up.
“Tough night?” She left me in the livingroom and padded into the kitchen.
“Yeah. Tiring.” I plopped onto the couch, thought twice about that and moved to the overstuffed chair. I scooted the footstool over and propped my aching feet on it. I wanted to get out of these clothes, to take a shower, to sleep, but I wanted to do them alone, not with this woman.
“Here.” She handed me a milky drink in a short glass. “Help you relax.” She sat her own drink on the table and knelt at the footstool. She took my right foot in her hands and massaged.
“You don’t have to do that.” The drink was good and stiff. I’d need every ounce of it and maybe more to get through tonight.
“I know you like it, baby. You just relax. After I’m done with your feet, I’ll draw us a hot bubble bath. Use that new oil I just bought, passion fruit.” She giggled. Dimples pitted each side of her face.
“I think I just want a shower tonight.” She was cute. At least I had taste.
“OK. I’ll start us a shower.”
“I’d like to just do the shower and get to sleep tonight. I’m really tired. I hope you don’t mind.” I tried to make a sympathetic smile crease my face. It felt more like trying to make a dead rubber chicken smile.
She nodded. “No problem. Betty knows when to bow out.” She stopped rubbing my feet, stood and took her drink to the kitchen. I heard water running and dishes chinking.
Sensitive little shit. But I got my time. I downed my drink then left it on the coffee table. Good thing this was the same house in my world as this one. Meant I knew the layout. Bad thing was, every room was filled with memories and emotions.
I walked down the hall toward my bedroom. I looked in the spare bedroom. No bed. Just a desk and bookshelves. I don’t know if I was more relieved or disappointed. If the boys had been here, could I have stood leaving them again? In my room I peeled off the seventies fashion rejects and opened drawers searching for my clothes. I didn’t know which were mine or hers, so I picked a large T-shirt and sweats. In the bathroom I removed the ton of makeup then stood in the shower for what seemed like an hour, letting the steam open my pours, wishing that when I stepped out, I’d be in my own house on my own world and I could sleep in my own bed. Alone.
Even the towels were the same. Very strange. I toweled off then got dressed. The shower had drained every last bit of energy reserves I had. Signifidant other or no, I crawled into the bed, a waterbed of all things, and slept like the dead until the shrill beep of the alarm woke me at six am.
The bathroom mirror reflected a hard woman, one with angles and edges. One with muscles and a tan. One side of the closet held nothing but slacks, blouses and jackets. The shoes under them were soft-soled with socks stuffed in them. Looked like something a plain clothes detective might wear, so I put them on.
“Honey, breakfast is on the table. Oh, you haven’t worn that in ages. Looks good on you.” She waved at me then went out of the room.
I followed her to the kitchen. “This outfit or any of them?”
She laughed. “That one. What with it’s history and all, I never thought you’d wear it again.”
I shrugged, having no idea what she was talking about. Breakfast consisted of something resembling colorful scrambled eggs. Was this what was called quiche? “Got any salsa?”
“You’re a queer one today.” She laughed louder.
I smiled and drank my coffee. Damned good coffee too. I doctored it up while she bent over searching in the fridge. With my luck, this Casey drank it black and that just wouldn’t do. This wasn’t in space and it wasn’t the desert. I was getting fed, showered and massaged. And living as a lesbian couple. Lord, remind me not to ask for anything else.
With luck, I’d get by without having to ask her name. Something must have her name on it, mail, fridge magnets. Hell, I’ll search her wallet if I have to. But then, honey and baby will get me far even though I don’t mean them.
She sat a huge plastic bottle of picante sauce on the table then sat to eat. “Seen the news yet?”
I shook my head. I just woke up, for Christ’s sake.
“They indited the mayor. Says this could lead all the way up to the governor and down through the police to the street criminals themselves. You better watch your back, young lady.”
A flash of memory. She always called me young lady when she was worried. “Why?”
“You know why. It’s not safe, what you’re doing.” She played with her quiche, making little twirly holes in it.
I nodded. “That wouldn’t get it done now would it?” That felt like the right response. After a good night’s sleep, some of this Casey’s instincts and memories crept their way back to my conciousness.
“It’d get just as done with you as without you and you know it.”
“Let’s not do this again.” I grabbed her hand. Some kind of connection warmed me when I touched her.
She looked at me a long moment. “I’m scared for you Casey. Real scared. I know you got big ol’ Jed there to watch your back, but he ain’t God.”
I patted her hand. “Don’t you worry. I’ll be just fine. Last night was boring. Just on my feet in the damned shoes all night. Today is just paperwork. Nothing to worry about.” I smiled. This time it was a real smile. Felt good to have someone really care.
She nodded and squeezed my hand. “You know I love you.”
I swallowed. “I know.” I knew better than to hesitate responding to that one. Been there, done that. Got more than the T-shirt, got two boys without a Dad and lots of memories and long hours at work to show for it.
*
“Hey Casey.” Jed waved at me as he closed his car door. He caught up with me in the parking lot. We walked together in the building, at least, I let it look that way. Actually, I watched where he went and stayed close to him.
“Morning. Sleep well?”
“The few minutes Sam let me sleep. Who ever said babies were precious should be shot. Sleep is what’s precious. Don’t mind me if I slip out to the car later to nap, K?”
“No problemo.” Yep. Kids were good at that. Keeping you up at all hours. Worrying about them from day one. Now wasn’t the time.
I found a desk with my name on it. Looked like this Casey hated paperwork as much as I did. Files piled messy. Half drank can of cola. Sticky table top. Apparently she didn’t work here, just stored stuff here.
“Casey!” a familiar voice boomed around the corner.
I froze.
Jed laughed. “Where’s your gun, girl?”
Gun? Oh God. I was supposed to wear that damned gun. “In my purse.”
“Caseeey Carlisle. Get yer ass in here on the double.”
That sounded just like Mark. But it couldn’t be, could it? The man I almost shot, or maybe I did shoot, or the other me shot, looked exactly like Mark. Not a stretch to believe if I’m the same in each universe that others aren’t either. I walked around the corner and into the chief’s office.
“Sit.”
Mark. Mark’s wavy brown hair. Mark’s slouch. Mark’s thick fingers.
“Are you deaf today? I said sit.”
I sat.
“Now. Jed told me what happened last night. You handled it well. I’m putting you and him up for commendation. However you know the rules about the gunfire. You’ll be working the cage until the investigation is completed.”
“The cage?” I blinked trying to keep up.
“Yes, the cage. That shooting must have really rattled your cage. See Hernandez. He’ll get you set up. You’ll like it. Eight hours straight.”
“Yes, Sir.” I got up to go.
“And one more thing.” He looked at me seriously, his eyes squinting. “You pull another stunt like you did last night, and I’ll yank you off the force so fast your head will fall off. You understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Casey.” His voice softened. “Don’t let it get to you honey. You know I got your back. Lunch? The usual?” He smiled with the same uneven teeth.
“I dunno. I’m really worn out. The shooting and all. You know.” I hedged. The usual? What the hell?
He nodded. “Tomorrow then.”
I smiled.
He bent over his desk and returned to work. I left, a little weak in the knees, but made it to my desk. This would be a good time to go home. Now. Right now. I sighed.
Jed set a cup of coffee in front of me. “You look like you could use a double right now. Lover’s tat?” He smiled wickedly and wiggled his butt.
I frowned and sipped the coffee. Bad coffee. Tasted like filtered dirt water.
“Don’t worry about it. Just go by the book and they can’t jam you up. We’ll watch out for each other and they won’t set us up either, right?” He winked.
I nodded. What kind of shit was this girl in? “What do you think they’d do?”
We headed down the hall. I had no idea where we were going, but I followed anyway.
He shrugged. “Drugs. Money. Doctored up pictures. Who knows.”
I wondered if that included living with a woman instead of a man. Was that just as different here as in my world? “Betty?” I ventured into that territory to see.
He stopped walking and whispered, “You better hope not. But that would be the easiest, even with our ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ policy. Maybe you should pack her off to Mexico or someplace exotic till this blows over.” He pushed the door open and I followed.
Did I have the money to send her some place exotic? Before me stood the cage and a literal cage it was. Floor to ceiling Xx cyclone (?) fence with a tray and table in front and a door on the side.
“You do like I said no, you hear?” Jed pointed his finger at me and made as if to shoot it.
I did the same.
Behind the cage stood a short man smoking a cigar. I hate cigars. I hate smoke of any kind. Makes me sick. I waved the air in front of my face. “Casey Carlisle reporting for duty.”
“Ain’t it aromatic?” His gravely voice grated on my nerves. This would be a long day.
“Peachy keen. You gonna let me in or what?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Quit you’re bitchin’.” He shuffled over to the door and unlocked it, swung it out for me to enter then locked it behind me. He sat me down at a desk and showed me some paperwork. Fun stuff.
*
Hours and stacks of paperwork later, I yawned and sat back. Seargent Blimey, yes, that’s his name, brought me a cup of coffee.
“Take a break. Can’t get it all done in one day.” He shuffled off behind a myriad of metal shelves filled with guns, ammunition, drugs, and other paraphenalia. Poor guy. Scuttlebutt was that he got shot close to the spine. Desk job ever since.
OK. More inane information surfacing. I sipped the coffee, ick, black, and delved back into the folders. About halfway through the third folder, I stopped. There was Mark’s name. He reportedly checked in several thousands of dollars of drugs that came up missing the next day. He’s now up on investigation. Interesting.
I read the report details. It looked clean. But still. Having the xxx investigate you couldn’t be an easy experience.
“Hey.” I looked up. Mark curled his fingers around the fence. “Having fun?”
I leaned back in my chair and stretched. “Yeah, loads.”
“Ready to come out?”
“What do you have in mind?” Was he serious? This was supposed to be fun? I rubbed my shoulders.
“Dinner? There’s some bar b q around the corner, serves some mean beer.”
“Sure.”
“Blimey! Let her out of jail.”
Mr. Blimey shuffled up the aisle and jangled a ring of keys in his hand. He unlocked the gate. I got up and thanked him. He grunted his disapproval. Made me feel like I was abandoning him. I shouldn’t. This wasn’t really my world.
I shouldered my purse and exited the gate. Mark put his arms around me in a more than friendly fashion. Me and my other self felt a bit violated at this gesture, but chose to ignore it for the time being. We walked out of the building and down the street.
The sun warmed my face in spite of the lateness of the day. That’s what I love about Texas. Regardless of the season, the sun touches you, let’s you know it’s there, just waiting to heat up for summer. Birds fluttered and chirpped in the pear trees lining the block.
We entered Bubba’s Bar b q. I squinted adjusting to the dim light inside. My stomach growled with the smell of food. We made our way through the line, piling food on our plates, and we found a booth in the corner. Regardless of the company and the wierdness of it all, I was glad I came. A good meal came in handy with the way I bounced around.
“So. Come across my filie yet?” He set his plates on the table and moved his tray to another table.
He certainly got to the point. I watched his movements. Come on Mark from my world. Get your act together and get me home.
Mark shoveled meat in his mouth. Bar b q sauce dripped down his chin. “Well?”
“You were serious?” I stuffed my own face, being purposefully vague.
He rolled his eyes and stabbed his fork at me. “We talked about this. I need that file.”
“What are you going to do with it?” I had to know.
“Best you didn’t know. Safer that way. Bad enough you’re getting rid of the file. And I don’t mean copies either. They need to disappear before XXX investigates this shindig.”
“What are you guilty of? What did you do?”
“Don’t go virgin on me now. You know exactly.”
Me? What did I know? I searched in the recesses of my brain that wasn’t really my brain for any snippet of information I could use but found nada. I gotta wing it, as usual.
“Let’s go over it one more time. Humor me. It’ll settle my nerves.” I flashed him an almost sexy smile then sipped my drink. (what drink was it?)
“That’s fair,” he conceded. “I got you scheduled to work a few night shifts in the cage.” I started to protest. I hate nite work on any world. He waved me down. “I know but this Is important now shut up and listen, please.”
Anyway, nite work and you’ll be alone most of the time. Blimey doesn’t work nights. You find out where the stash is, get it, and give it to me. You’ll bring a shoebox to work with new shoes in them. You’ll give me the stuff in the shoebox. I’ll bring the shoebox back later. The cameras won’t worry about a shoebox with you trying on a pair of shoes or something. How you get the stuff in there is your business.
The hard part is getting me the original file and making a copy and putting it in the folder and making it a good report. Nothing too different. Just if a box is checked no, you check yes. That sort of thing.”
“You don’t want much.” In fact, I was appalled at what he expected of me. What kind of screwed up relationship did we have anyway?
“Not much baby. Just enough.” He smiled and sopped up the last of his bar b q sauce with a well buttered roll. “Got it?”
“Got it.” I toyed with the rest of my dinner, suddenly losing my appetite. I ordered two apple cobbler and ice cream deserts to go. Betty might like some and she’s gonna want some appeasing when she finds out I’m not gonna want to do the hanky panky in bed with her again tonight.
“So when you gonna dump that lezbo and come to papa?” He quirked his mouth in that weird Mark way, the way that said he wanted to get his way and knew he was right whether he got it or not.
“When you get rich.” I figured that would keep him at bay a little while. If I could just last long enough to get home. This emotional roller coaster, wild adrenaline ride, whatever you want to call it, got old quick and I was losing steam fast. I was remembering more and more about this world the longer I stayed here. The more I remembered, the more tired I got, and the more I just wanted to get out of here.
“It’s been a long day.” I sighed and rubbed my neck. “I think I just need to get home and get some sleep.”
Mark looked disappointed but nodded. “Yeah after yesterday I bet you’re still a bit shook. Well it’ll blow over in a bit and you’ll be back on the streets where you belong. In those stilletos and mini skirt.” He laughed and paid the check.
Nice to see some chivalry hadn’t completely died. Mark dropped me off at the station parking lot and I picked up my car and drove straight home. I was lucky tonight. Betty had some kind of thing and would be out late. I put our deserts in the fridge and went to shower.
This chick must work out, but I didn’t see any gym equipment in the house. I’m thinking she goes to a gym. I hope she doesn’t mind a break while I occupy her body. I’m the typical geek. I wanted to go back to geeking.
I showered and threw on some sweats. Found some ambient music to relax to and made some tea. I relaxed on the couch and rehashed the past few days.
None of it really made much sense at first.
First I’m a star ship Captain watching my world get blown to bits, by who I couldn’t figure out, but not by other humans or people from earth anyway, that I understood succinctly.
Then I’m back at the lab. We rerun the test. And I’m in the desert, an assassin for who the hell knows, about to shoot Mark and his assistant, who looked exactly like the seargent on the space ship.
Before I finish squeezing the trigger I’m plopped in the middle of a busy intersection as a hooker who is actually a cop living with another woman, having some sort of love / hate relationship with her boss, who looks just like Mark, who wants me to cover his ass for some under the table deal he’s got going on.
Talk about a living soap opera. Where were the commercials? I deserve a commercial break, dammit.
I dozed on the couch, dreaming of quarreling with myself. First just tow of me, then three of me popped up. All arguing. All right. All wrong.
I heard the front door open. In the back of my mind I thought it must be Betty coming in from her thing, whatever it was. I’m supposed to know what it is, so I can’t ask. Hope she enjoyed her thing.
Hands grabbed my sweat shirt and yanked me up. Duct tape wrapped around by wrists and ankles, then my mouth, then my eyes. I remember thinking, not the eyes! That’s gonna hurt like hell when it comes off. I’ll have no eyelashes or eyebrows left. It was stupid thinking, but it’s what you do in a panic, remember the stupid things while you mind pees all over itself.
I squirmed, but they, whoever they were, had me pretty good. I finally realized if I wanted to breath decently, I had to settle down. Nose breathing is an art form when it’s the absolutely only way you have to breathe. Can’t cry, it’ll clog up the nose and no breathing. Can’t risk violent movement or getting hit, eyes will tear up, nose will sinuses will fill up, can’t breathe. Maybe I was just being robbed. Take my stuff, I thought. Take it all. It’s not really mine anyway.
I heard a bunch of foot steps, drawers and cabinets being opened and closed. Things crashing to the floor. I cringed when I heard glass because I knew those were Betty’s hand blown glass animals she’d collected since childhood. She was gonnna be pissed about that. Then I heard some thudding on the walls. No, surely that can’t be. Were they chopping into the walls? What the hell were they looking for? Whatever it was, I couldn’t tell them even if I wanted to. Maybe it’s a good thing they had taped my mouth.
Someone smelling of Brute lifted me and threw me over his shoulder like a rolled up rug. Images from black and white movies flashed. I saw myself with cement shoes, rolled up in just such a rug, thrown in to a river.
“Let’s get her back to the boss.” The guy that held me said.
“Yeah. Nothing here. But we’ll keep looking just the same.” Said a familiar voice. I hooked onto that voice. An image popped into my head. The seargent from the space ship. He was here too. Why? He wasn’t part of my world, at least not in my known world.
The guy laid me down in the back seat. He buckled the seat belts around me. What a strange thing to do. So I couldn’t squirm my way out to the floor? Or for my safety? Gee, we wouldn’t want the girl we kidnapped to bounce around if we had a wreck now would we?
Car doors closed. I’ll call him Brute must have been driving, because I smelled him from the front. Then someone else got in. He smoked a cigar. Just what I needed. I concentrated on taking light breaths, nothing deep. If that cigar smoke got into my nose, I was a goner. It’d lock me up in no time and I’d be dead before you could say Cowboys and Indians.
They turned the radio on and didn’t talk. I tried to concentrate on the number of turns we made, any sounds I could hear from outside of the car, bumps, type of road, bridges even, like they do in the movies. But those are always some special person doing the listening, someone blind or autistic or mentally retarded or something to convince the viewing public that that person could actually count the number of bumps from point A to point B. I’m here to tell you, it’s virtually impossible. I felt one section of road that was different. Could have been some part of any freeway in the Dallas Ft. Worth metroplex that they scooped up and treaded for traction because I had no idea how far we had travelled.
Finally after what seemed like hours but surely couldn’t have been, we stopped, tires crunching on gravel. Car doors opened and someone pulled me out and with an arm around me, drug me across gravel then across cement or some other hard flooring for several yards. He sat me in a chair. Someone cut the tape.
Yes. It hurt. Worse than an eyebrow wax.
The light stung my eyes for a while, but eventually I made out a desk in front of me with a high intensity lamp shining toward me. I kept a hand in front of my eyes so I could see around it. The rest was just a warehouse. Nobody in front of me but one guy at the desk. He didn’t look familiar. I started to turn around.
“Don’t.”
So I didn’t.
“Where is it?” He tapped a pen on the metal desktop.
Irritating as hell. Come to think of it, everything about today was irritating as hell. “Where is what?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Mizz Carlisle. You know what we want. Tell us and we’ll go away.”
The way he had drawn out those zzz’s made me think of The Matrix, but I knew that he was emphasizing my lifestyle choice. I crossed my legs. “What’s the matter. Your significant other not as pretty as mine?”
Someone slapped me, hard. My lip split and bled. Worse, my head throbbed and my neck wrenched with the impact. Damn.
“Let’s try this again. I need the damned control unit with the power cell and I need it now.”
The day started like any other day. Joe snuck the Halloween candy that I told him not to. Jacob ate his breakfast and Joe's but forgot his lunch. I woke up late to boot. I hate rushed mornings. Ever try to rush a sleepy seven and six year old? It ain't pretty.
Looking back at the day, I wish I could rush every morning. I wouldn't mind, if I could just be with my boys again. Yell at them, fix their peanut butter and jelly on white, hear them complain about how they don't want to go to school and me complain about how I don't want to go to work.
But that's a lie. I wanted to go to work. I never wanted to get out of bed, but once I'm awake, I had to admit, I _wanted_ to get to work as soon as I could. This project had kept us coming in early and staying late for years now and it finally began to pay off. Little things, yes, but we were making progress. We accomplished small steps this year. Could mark checks by our milestones, some of them even early than predicted, which helped with the funding.
Now, as I stared out of this plastic cocoon, floating above the earth, I wish we'd gone slower, made more mistakes, never accomplished our goals. I had never wished for failure in my life. This one time, I think I could stand it.
I don’t know how long I’d been like this. Palms pressed against the transparent polyform wall, somehow I knew that. Earth swung below me in its blue white brown splendor. The land masses, when visible, looked familiar. There, right there, where the land curved in, was the Gulf of Mexico and with a guess, a dot or two north-east would be home. There was some comfort in the recognition. Home. Somewhere down there was home.
Never again would the land masses be recognizable as they are in the text books. How I knew this, I couldn’t say, but I knew it with a sad certainty. Never again could I point from space and say , hey, there's Florida jutting out from America like a nasty finger or the boot of Italy or see the western hangnail of the Mexican Baha, now just an underwater condo for fish in the Pacific, and California quickly becoming the new unnatural western uncoral reef.
I closed my eyes, confused. I remember things I should not know. Things I didn’t know before. This morning I fixed breakfast for my kids as divorced parent. I drove to work and my day proceeded no different than any other day. The coffee. Mark’s bad humor. I didn’t work in space. I worked at XX Labs as an engineer. We’re experimenting with the effects of resonance and dimensions. It’s complicated.
We began by merely cataloguing the resonant frequency of everything, and I do mean every thing – a tree, a cat, grass, rocks, you name it, working our way up to people. Have you seen how a particle accelerator records matter and anti-matter? Well, we figured out a similar way to study other dimensions, or planes of existence, other universes, we weren’t really sure what we would find, only that something was there and we wanted to know what
Curiousity killed the cat. And guess what? It put me here in this bubble and I have no idea how to get back. Like I said, it’s complicated. Apparently we complicated me right out of the lab to somewhere else. At least, I hope it’s as simple as that.
Other coccoon bubble things floated in space. I saw two more distinctly and what might have been four or five others but it was hard to tell. When not filtered by the earth’s atmosphere, sunlight lit up anything it touched like a bright white light and where it didn’t touch, darkness wasn’t just dark, it was so black it looked like it would suck my soul into it.
From the transparent tube in space I watch a dance of space disks float around the planet. These were the space grids for the RezFreQ Project. They needn't be equi-distant, I knew, but they did have certain minimum standards that must be kept for maximum effect. Too close to each other, and any feedback could disturb the disk next to it, then the next disk, and so on, until it dominoed down the line, or around the planet I should say and rendered them useless for their task. ReFreQ was still new. Only worst case scenerios had absolute data. The rest were shades of grays and guesses, speculations from reams of data and opinion.
Somehow there was enough oxygen mix to breathe. No food though. I wore a suit, skin tight, reminded me of a scuba diving outfit but thinner. No gloves, which I found curious. I saw no equipment in the tube thing yet I wasn’t chilled as I should have been, or just plain frozen in the cold of space. Shoes matched the material of the suit.
I sat. I ran my hands through my hair. They were my hands – the same popped up veins, the same curved fingers. And it was my hair only much shorter, cropped close to my head. I’d never worn my hair this short. Well maybe when I was born. I am me, but I am not me. Who am I?
What exactly did happen in the lab?
We had gone through the sequence, as methodically and boring as any other day. One more time. Only this time, we included one more step. After locking in the frequency, we set the calculations for time and space, to place the object, a rock, from one spot on the floor to another. It should have either worked or not worked. We never thought to consider that we hadn’t completely contained the frequency interference. The numbers all looked so clean. The calculations all lined up. It looked so simple.
My pod moved. At least I think it moved. It vibrated against my skin. I looked around. There behind me, between me and the moon, some machine ship looking thing hovered, getting closer, growing bigger. Was this a good thing? Someone tell me this isn’t an alien ship about to cook me as an appetizer.
God, would I splat against that rust bucket bolted metal side? But no. The side opened and in I floated. I took deep breaths. Calm down. I can wing this surely. Not like I have a choice.
The plastic pod settled onto a suction like xthingx. The side slit open like some membrane parting. Creepy. Loathe to touch it, I hopped out.
A door slid open on the wall across the room. I headed toward it as other pods floated in.
“Ma’am.” A smart looking officer in olive drab saluted. “Captain on the deck.”
The officer faced me, his arm stiffly bent, his hand touching his forehead. All the other people in the room stood, if they were sitting, and all saluted. I turned to look behind me. I rubbed my palms on my thighs.
Something automatic took over. I saluted casually and said “You’re relieved, seargent.” And plopped into the command chair. Flashes of Star Trek lept into my brain and it was all I could do not to giggle aloud. I didn’t know what was going on, whether this was real or delusional, but I wasn’t about to let anyone know I verged on cracking up. I cleared my throat. “Report.”
“The bombing has stopped. Most of the ships have been xxx, the others being hunted now.”
“Damage?” I remembered seeing ballooning blobs of clouds on the planet while I was floating around in that space bean. At the time, I thought them pretty. They started out bright white and grew and grew into pink and red and orange, then disapated, the land under it hazy and gray.
“Most major cities a direct hit. New York, DC, Atlanta, Dallas, L.A. SAC bases not reporting in are Minot xxx and all NORAD sites have been hit.” The seargent shrugged. “Looks like all that’s left is the small stuff.”
Small stuff. I don’t think the people in Wyoming or Oklahoma (use states that didn’t get bombed) think of themselves as small stuff. My heart beat hard. Dallas. You can’t hit Dallas without affecting Ft. Worth and the surrounding suburbs. I lived there, in one of the little towns that clung on the fringes of the big city. Small town life with big town benefits.
At least, I used to live there. Did I live there now? I kept telling myself this is a different universe. Joe and Jake are fine. They’ll come home from school today and do their homework and watch cartoons and mess up the house as usual. And wait for me to come home. I closed my eyes. Surely, someone from the lab will take care of that. Find someone to watch the boys or get them over to my sister’s, something. God, please don’t let them be alone at night.
Captains don’t cry. I rubbed my temples in an effort to hide the fact that I really rubbed the tears from my eyes. Apparently they don’t wear makeup either. Maybe I should set a new precedent for Captain’s decorum when your world is destroyed. I’ll have to put that in my personal log. I heard “Captain’s log, stardate … “ in a British male voice in my head and I smiled. A whole other universe indeed.
Dizzy and disoriented, I collapsed to my knees.
“Casey!” Hands grabbed my arms and pulled me to my feet. “Are you OK?”
“What happened?”
“How do you feel?”
I shook my head. Someone handed me a paper cup of tepid water and I was grateful for it. I gulped it down, crumpled the cup and dropped it to the floor. The floor and people around me teetered sickeningly.
“Casey.”
Mark stared at me soberingly. “Mark. It’s you.” I laughed. I was home.
“Of course it’s me. Who else would it be?”
“A monkey.” My usual response. We laughed.
“You gave us a scare, girl. We called an ambulance. Should be here any minute.” Mark stood and tossed a handful of papers on his desk.
“Ambulance?” I made a valiant effort to stand without help. “What the hell is going on here?”
“That’s what we want to know. But we need you checked out first.” He always had those steady blue eyes, like anchors in a storm. Anchors I locked onto.
“Can we talk alone a moment?” I forced a congenial smile, professional, but cold inside. My co-workers seemed relieved and took advantage of the opportunity to take a break.
Once the door closed, I rounded on Mark. “What the hell? What happened? One minute I’m testing the wiring and the next I’m hanging in space then I’m here ready to puke.”
“Case. We gotta put a lid on this. Our funding will get cut if this snafu gets out.”
“Funding? Snafu? This is a hell of a lot more than a snafu, Mark. Let’s start with FUBAR. Huh?”
“Hey, hey. Calm down. You’re here now. It’s OK.”
“Speaking if here. How long was I gone?” I chewed my lip, anxious to know but not really wanting to know. How were my boys? That’s what I really wanted to know.
“Only a few minutes. You faded in and out and what’s interesting is that you didn’t reappear in the same spot that you left. That means it’s working, don’t you see? So it’s imperitive we keep this business of disappearing to a minimum. Act like we wanted it to happen.” Marks voice sounded eager, excited. If he only knew.
“A few minutes?” I pulled up the closest stool and sat. “But I was gone hours. I was in a whole other universe, Mark. I was,” I waved above my head, “out there. In space. Watching the earth being attacked.”
He looked at me and cocked his head, like a dog who can’t understand what he hears. “Case, it’s not even noon yet. You left about eleven thirty.” He pointed at the round clock on the wall over our heads.
I looked up. He was right. It was 11:50 am. “It’s still Monday?”
He nodded.
“I can’t explain it, Mark. I was somebody else. A captain. In a space ship. Getting damage reports. Giving orders. But I was still me.”
“Don’t tell that to anyone. No, I’m serious. Either nobody would believe you or they’d think you were crazy. We need time to look into this. We think we know what went wrong, but we need you to verify it.” Mark’s gaze bored into mine.
I nodded. “No problem. It was crazy.”
Medical techs entered the room and Mark waved them toward me. “She fainted and fell to the floor.” Mark explained to them. The company is liable for accidents, so it is only logical that medics would be called for something like this.
I let them check me over, blook pressure, temp, pulse rate, listen to my heart which must have been racing, but they didn’t seem to notice or were too professional to comment and asked me if I wanted to ride in the ambulance with them to the hospital or see my own doctor. I said I’d see my own doctor and they left.
Adrenaline drop. I gathered my bag from my desk after my co-workers returned. “I’m heading out for lunch. I’ll be back in an hour.” I headed out. I didn’t know where I was going, but I had to get out, see my world, feel it firm beneath my feet, make sure Dallas was still here with it’s steel blue sheen. The sun hit my eyes hard when I stepped out. Typical Texas autumn. I headed to my car and drove home, thinking the whole time about what I’d seen from space.
I pulled into my driveway and looked at my house. It was a beautiful sight. The grass was green. The weeds were green and just as beautiful. I tried to memorize every bit of scenery as I walked up the sidewalk to the door, grabbed the mail from the mailbox and unlocked it and went in. God, what a wonderful feeling to be home. I bought this house because it felt good. I think houses have feelings and emote feelings. I don’t know whether they absorb the feelings of the previous owners or come that way, but this house felt good from the first time I stepped through the door so I bought it. I certainly couldn’t say the same of the spaceship.
I took off my shoes and undressed, letting the clothes drop where they lay, and got in the shower. Hot water pounding my skin wouldn’t make me forget my day, but it would wash away some of the sweat from fear both from being scared for my life and from being scared for my sanity. I don’t know which is worse. I think maybe sanity.
It was time to make backup plans for the boys. I had put it off far too long. They always had the neighbors for short term but what if I hadn’t returned today, or at all? I leaned against the cold tile. God. Thank you for letting me live in this world with my boys.
Were they too young for a cell phone? Maybe a nanny after school. I’ll start looking this afternoon. In the meantime, I’ll get Kerry to watch them after school. She was home every day and I hated to ask her, not really knowing her much, but what choice did I have? All she needed to do was make sure they were safe and if I didn’t show at a decent time, call my sister. That wasn’t so hard.
Feeling better having made a decision, I finished my shower and put on clean clothes. I made a quick balogna and cheese sandwich and called Kerry. That done, I headed back to work.
I didn’t look forward to the afternoon, but it had to be done. We had to figure out what happened and why. There was more going on here than simple resonant frequency.
The techs looked hassled. I lifted an eyebrow at Mark. He rolled his eyes and said, “Let’s go through this one more time. Casey, if you’ll check the wiring as you were before, we’ll step through this process cold before going hot again.”
Sounded reasonable to me. If he had said we were going back to power and me at the wiring, I’d have been backpeddling faster than a circus panda on a reverse unicycle. I was in no hurry to repeat this morning’s “snafu”.
I removed the side panel to the power generator and set it aside. Inside the equipment hummed. A beautiful sound to my ears. I took a plastic pick in one hand and the instruction sheet in the other. “Ready.”
Step by slow step, we wound our way through the instruction manual. All seemed normal and within parameters. Nothing that I could see in the wiring panel could have caused any problems. The windings were correct – in the right order, the correct number of windings, the right size wire, etc. The more energy the generator box consumed, the more static it exuded. The hairs on my arms vibrated. My skin prickled. But that’s as far as it got before we finished with the process and shut it down.
“That’s without all the windings powered up.” Mark studied his manual and jotted notes in the margins.
“I know.” I stepped back, just in case the machine had a mind of its own. I wasn’t taking any chances.
“OK take five then we’ll power up fully.”
I glanced over to Mark. He wasn’t looking at me. His gazed riveted to the manual. I knew he was ignoring me in his own professional way. I didn’t want to appear chicken, but this was my life we were experimenting with.
Don’t know if you’ve ever done this type of thing, but it’s not exciting. The idea of it is. But when you’re doing it, the excitement can get lost in the minutia. The details bog you down. Something isn’t right. Gotta stop, start again, repeat it until it is right. Fix it, wait for that, replace a part, wait for that, start again. It’s a miracle anything ever gets finished. In some masochistic manner, we trudged through the dry run and by late afternoon, we took a break.
Mark motioned me over. “Any idea what went wrong?”
I shrugged. “Wiring is per spec. Has to be something else. Has Lisa run a diagnostic on the motherboard? Software maybe?” I ventured into the programming possibility gently. That was Mark’s baby. One doesn’t attack another one’s baby directly, at least not and expect to come out unscathed.
“We did that while you were gone.” He chewed the end of his mechanical pencil. It’s not as satisfying as chewing the end of a regular pencil, I knew, because I had the same bad habit. Plastic just didn’t have the same texture and grit as wood and metal and eraser. You’d think by now someone would have gotten smart and sold some mechanical pencils with chewing gum or taffy on the top.
I folded my arms and thought. We had to do this again. There was no way to be sure without risking another full run. And there was no way I would let anyone else near that machine while it was fully charged, not now.
“Mark. If it happens again.” I shook my head and waved off his denial. “I’m just saying. If. My boys. The next door neighbor agreed to watch them for me in the afternoons till I get home from work, and if I don’t, she has my sister’s number. But I’d feel better if I knew I had a backup for my backup.”
“You want me to take care of them?” Mark seemed a little taken back. Poor guy, single and swinging, or so he likes to think of himself.
“No, I just want to know that you’ll make sure they get to my sister and she understands what is going on.” He started to protest. “She doesn’t have to know the details. I know it’s classified. Jesus, Mark, you don’t have to tell me that. Just make sure they are SAFE. Promise that, will you?” I handed him Tammy’s phone and address.
The rest of the crew filed in from the break room. Lisa handed me a cola. “Diet is out, sorry.”
I took the cold can and popped the top, thanking her as she walked toward her work station.
“Yeah, sure, no problem.” He took it and stuffed it in his pocket. He smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. “Not to worry, Case. Everything is working just fine. You’ll see.”
Power hummed around us. I loved the feel of it. Like I was the big bass speaker vibrating. I walked around the equipment checking readouts, pushing buttons, flipping switches as needed. All within operating parameters. Looking good. I checked off each step.
I walked around to the back of the unit and opened the panel that held the majority of the wiring. Large wads of wires fed in through rubber ringed holes in the side. Once inside, each wad separated into a color spray of individual wires like slender fingers and fed into the connector panel, a board with posts for each wire to connect to, actually wire-wrapped for this project, that would link it up to the correct circuit.
I always thought this the most beautiful part of electronics, the routing of wires. There is an art to these things that most don’t appreciate. How things are done. The graceful arcs of the wires from the side wall to their posts were mathematically correct I’m sure, but who was doing the math? I was just appreciating the color and symmetry, the arcs and lines and spacing, the gold points of the posts glittering as I shone my penlight on them.
The hair on my arms stiffened. My skin prickled and warmed. I smiled. Was this how Marie Curie felt? Or Nikola Tesla? Thanks to Tesla, all this was possible. Where would we be without his genius? I knew what they said behind my back. I overheard some of the lab techs calling me Ms. Tesla. And I thought, what an honor they do me. What a freaking honor.
All the connections looked good. But then, they had all looked fine this morning too. I snapped the panel closed and snapped off my penlight, turned it around to write the results in my notebook. My notes appeared blurry. I realized my head throbbed. Time for some aspirin. I clipped the pin to the page and turned to make my way back to my desk.
And stepped onto sand. Hot, dry, yellow sand as far as I could see.
White robes whipped around me as I turned around. Camels loaded with packs and other robbed figures sat atop them. In spite of the tinted goggles, I held my hand over my eyes. Cloth covered everything else. I looked past the group. The wind blew sand over our footprints as I watched. I looked at the sky. The sun was just above the horizon in the east. We headed west.
One man swatted his camel and loped up beside me. “Madam, if we do not keep moving, we will lose precious time.”
I nodded. A boy brought a camel to me and helped me mount. Thank goodness. Not quite like a horse. I nodded to the man who had spoken, and followed him.
Jesus H. Christ. Where was I? When was I? This was quickly becoming ridiculous. The first time was a fluke, but a second? Mark better fix something and fix it fast. Already sweat trickled in every crease of my body. I itched and wanted a shower already. I lumbered along, my body swaying right and left with each step of the camel. My spine would get badly out of alignment by noon at this rate. Why couldn’t I land someplace nice, like an air conditioned spa in Hawaii with waiters and mai tai’s? Or some rich woman’s penthouse with maids and a butler and room service?
Long long miles of sand stretched before me in all directions. Plenty of wind, but it was hot and stung the skin, the sand in the wind abraiding whatever it touched. Depressing. Instead, I took stock of what I had closer to me – four full water skins (were those goat bladders or something more exotic?), one empty, two large leather bags hung over the camel’s rump or back or hump, camel anatomy eludes me, netted bags of fruit hung beside them. I felt my robes, discreetly. I couldn’t tell, but I could be the only woman in this group, and found an Almond Joy, soft inside it’s wrapper, a cell phone, pens in the left front shirt pocket, (nice to know I’m still a geek), and a shoulder holster with a pistol of some kind.
Guns and me don’t get along. What if I was supposed to be able to shoot this thing? And actually hit a target? Then I noticed the rifle buckled onto the front of the saddle. I looked side to side to see if anyone thought this unusal, but everyone had one.
I traveled for hours, swaying on this stinking camel, watching the sun rise higher and higher. I wanted to close my eyes, but I was afraid I’d fall off. What was Mark doing? I shouldn’t be here this long. Something must have really gone wrong this time. My heart sank.
At midday we stopped in the shade of a jagged boulder and ate our meager rations. I call them rations because I don’t know what I ate and afraid to ask. So I just chewed the leathery stuff and drank the tepid water. Four men tended the baying camels. Three others sat near me. Not with me. But not far enough away to be completely insulting. Yep. They knew I was a woman.
I rested my head on my knees and closed my eyes. I must have dozed off because I thought I was home, tucked into a warm bed, when I heard men shouting at the camels. When I glanced up, men ran everywhere, camels bellowed and ran away from them. I smiled. A regular circus show.
Above me came a loud hum. I looked up. From the north, low in the sky, a dot grew bigger and bigger. One man yelled at me in a foreign language, perhaps Arabic? He used shooing motions. I stepped back to the rock’s shadow, what little it had in the middle of the day. I wondered how they would hide the camels, but somehow they had gathered them and held their reins, standing with them on the other side of the rock.
I turned to watch the dot. Now I could make out more details. Sunlight bounched off its silver plating. It had wings, sleek and full to the body as far as I could tell. So it was no passenger jet. But I couldn’t tell which country it belonged to. Hell. At this point, I didn’t know which country I belonged to.
The plane zoomed overhead. From what I could see, I think it was ours. Rather, the U.S. Recon? Taking pictures? Flying below radar? Who knew. I was sad to see it go.
We regrouped and headed out again. My God the heat. I’m not cut out for field work, much less the desert. I don’t even do sauna’s. Soon the rhythm lulled me into a stooper and I let myself daydream, only half paying attention to my surroundings.
We stopped. I wasn’t complaining. But we still had a few hours yet before sunset. The men spoke in hushed tones. One motioned for me to stay low, so I sat in the sand. The man who took my camel slid my rifle from its satchel and handed it to me along with a long box. I thanked him. I don’t know why I thanked him, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with the blasted thing.
I snapped the locks on the case and opened it. I took a deep breath. Inside were powerful magnifying scopes, night vision goggles and some equipment I had no idea of its use. I knew the scopes went to the rifle. I had no idea how to attach them. I closed the case.
We sat on the east side of a large dune. I hadn’t bothered looking over it. This sandbox was getting pretty dull. I was ready for a swim. I sighed. Come on Mark. Come on. Get me out of this.
Last time I had some residue of information from the me that had inhabited the body before I butted in. But as much as I rummaged around in this brain, I hadn’t found a damned thing. Maybe if I just relaxed, it’d come.
So I relaxed. I sat cross-legged and regulated my breathing. I thought about the sand and the plane that flew over us. There. A flash of something. Gone. I shook my hands and rolled my shoulders. I chanted softly. Ohm. After a few moments, I can’t say minutes because when you’re really meditating, time has no reference, images flashed again. A man’s image – tall, tan kahki’s and cap, and he looked vaguely familiar. A large conference table. A plane on a tarmac. Door open. Steps down. That man again, walking down the steps, waving, smiling. People thronged behind guards and gates. A red dot appeared on the man’s forehead, then a black dot and he fell.
My eyes shot open. And with the images came knowledge. Hands shaking, I opened the case, removed the scope and assembled it to the rifle. I wanted to puke, but I kept my teeth clenched. I still wore my darkened goggles. I scooted to the top of the dune.
I settled into the sand where if someone were looking, they wouldn’t see a thing unless they knew to look for the end of the barrell or the scope. And as I lay there, more sand blew over me. I peered through the scope and adjusted it. There was a tarmac xxxx (how far) away. It looked freshly laid, black and shiney in the dazzling sun. I saw no audience, only military jeeps and a black limosine that had just driven up. A black man dressed like a waiter exited the driver’s seat and stood by the hood. Guards walked a perimeter. We were plenty outside of that perimeter.
The setting sun cast long shadows. Finally, a plane (jet?) descended quickly. It hit the tarmac fast, but stopped before the landing ended. I focused on the passenger door as it opened and the steps opened to the ground. My heartbeat raced. I knew my adrenaline was going through the roof and it shouldn’t be. The real person here would be a lot calmer, at least, I hoped so.
Heat wavered the air from the black asphalt. This all seemed so surreal. I kept my focus on the door. Into view stepped a caucasian man, dressed in tan kahki’s and cap. This was the one that seemed familiar. He laughed and stepped out of the plane. Was this the man I was to kill? I felt no compunction to do so. I had to trust her instincts. I took more deep breaths, getting grit in my nose.
Into view stepped another man. Fire! I almost dropped the gun. My mind yelled at me. Fire, dammit! Fire! My finger squeezed the trigger as my skin prickled. I didn’t know if it was from shock or another transition. I felt the click of the rifle as my vision blurred and I vibrated out of that world. I never knew if I had hit Mark or not.
*
I landed hard on cold cement. I wanted to retch but took long deep breaths instead.
“Hey Bitch! Get out of the road.” Horns blared and tires squealed.
My vision wasn’t yet 20/20 but I could tell it was night and I landed in the middle of a busy intersection. One car swerved to miss me and landed in the side of another. The lane I blocked had the stopped cars. I stood on wobbily feet. Heels. A skirt. I smoothed the skirt down my thighs, and noticed it didn’t go as far as I wanted it to, and stumbled toward the nearest curb. I must have looked like a drunk. I certainly felt drunk. I wished I was drunk.
A cold lampost held me up while I took stock. My heels came first because looking down came easy till my stomach settled. I would never buy these shoes. Six inch stilletos, with ankle straps. Black seemed hose. Short red leather skirt that barely touched the top of my thighs. A white crop top that barely covered the essentials, letting a bright red lacey bra show all around. Bright red long nails. Hair teased. No doubt my face looked like some showgirl on broadway. At least it wasn’t space or sand. At least I was on earth.
Men passed, some whistling, some asking how much. I avoided eye contact. These shoes had to go. I hated to ruin the hose but it couldn’t be helped. Two hundred dollars itched inside my bra cups. Time for some dinner and some thinking.
I walked several blocks to an all night diner. I didn’t want to be seen sitting down on the job, so to speak. No telling what kind of trouble that might cause. The vinyl seat chilled my legs as I slid across the booth. I wore garters. I suppose pantyhose would be bad for business.
I ordered coffee and breakfast, propped my feet up on the opposite seat and leaned my head back and closed my eyes. This was too much. When the food arrived I dug in, famished.
I was sopping up the last of the pancakes when a big burly black man slid into the seat opposite me. “Well, Casey, think you can walk off the job anytime you want?”
That didn’t sound good. All the seventies movies of pimps and prostitutes popped into my head. I sipped my coffee.
He ordered a coffee. “Boss ain’t gonna be none too happy.”
I shrugged. I was getting good at this nonverbal communication.
“Well. Shift’s almost over anyway. I won’t tell if you won’t.” When he smiled, his front gold tooth flashed in the overhead lamplight.
I rubbed the back of my neck, afraid to say anything at this point.
“You got a ride home?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t mind dropping you off. The Sarge said we can finish the paperwork tomorrow when we come in since we stayed so late.”
“That’s awfully human of him.”
“Yeah. No joke. He’ll probably rail us in the morning anyway. His substitue for caffeine.” He sipped his coffee. “How’d you land this job? You get tired of pushing papers?”
“Something like that.”
“Well. You could do worse. Sarge ain’t too bad once you get used to him. You did alright out there tonight for your first time.”
“Thanks.” First time. I’m a cop. That was my first time in the field in vice (?). That’s interesting. I never wanted to be a cop. “Excuse me, I need to powder my nose.”
He laughed and waved his fingers. “I’ll be here.”
I got up as ladylike as the short skirt allowed and headed to the back of the deli for the restrooms. I was dying to see what this getup looked like and rummage through the purse.
The flourescent bulb flickered, casting a faint yellow tint on everything, making my skin look sallow and jaundiced. My makeup indeed looked cartoonish – black lined eyes, fake eyelashes, bright purple shadow. And the hair. A funky blue streaked down one side. It’ll be hell getting the tangles out of that. I rifled through the purse – aspirin, good I needed that, Timex watch, loose change that looked the same as in my world, old receipts, a paperback, some kind of murder mystery, not my normal taste, a small package of tissue, and a red leather wallet. I took out the wallet and looked inside.
My face stared back at me from the drivers license. Behind it hid the badge and police card. In other slots sat an insurance card, a bank card, two credit cards, Mastercard and American Express, various business cards that meant nothing to me and in the side she had another hundred dollars. This girl carried a lot of cash on her. Maybe it was for the job. I rarely carried cash, relying instead on my bank card.
I stuffed everything back into the purse and headed out of the bathroom and back to the booth. The undercover cop was still there, his bulk tight between the table and seat. I thought you had to be fit to be a cop. I sat.
“I’m ready when you are.” I stuffed the stilletos in my purse.
He waved for the check. We paid and left. This city didn’t look any different than any other city – cars, people, stores, buildings, neons signs, transients, trash. Sounded the same. Smelled the same. As I followed this guy to his car, I wondered if this was my world and I just landed in another place? No, that wouldn’t be consistent with how I’ve traveled so far. I’ve taken the body of myself in other existences, universes, whatever you want to call them. So it wouldn’t make sense there would be two of me in the same world.
He held the door open on the passenger side of a Lexus. I smiled and sat inside. Even though this was a different world, normal felt good. Things I recognized and understood as part of my own world like cars and diners and flush toilets was a nice change.
Downtown faded into darkness. Now only highway lights lit our path. We headed west. Home. I glanced at him slyly. He smoked a PallMall, his left hand letting the cig dangle between two fingers out the window. I looked at the dashboard. Labels in English. That’s a good start. I took a brush out of my purse and used it to untangle my hair while I contemplated. I knew I was frowning. The tugging and pulling of rats out of my hair would cover my frown, I hoped.
We headed toward my home. Where I lived in my own universe. How did he know where this Casey lived? I searched my mind but nothing came up. At least the thought of it didn’t sound any alarms. However, my stomach had butterflies.
He turned off Interstate 30 onto 360 south and in a few minutes pulled up to my door, pretty as you please. I pasted a smile and stuffed the brush in my purse.
“Thanks man.” I opened the door.
“What. No kiss?” He puckered.
“How about kiss my ass?” I slid out of the car quickly.
“I’ll do that, anytime baby.” He laughed.
I slammed the door, waved, and walked up the sidewalk, all the time hoping he’d just drive off. He did. The sound of the engine disappeared as he drove down the street and turned the corner. Whew.
I looked at my house. Same house. I put a shakey hand to my mouth. My eyes watered. Who was in there? Would I get to see my babies in another world? Would I have a husband? Other children? I sat on the steps a moment, gathering my patience. The damned cement chilled my bare ass cheeks, not mention it was none too smooth. I unsnapped the garters and peeled off the hose. I used one to blow my nose and wipe my eye makeup. Let me warn you. Nylon is not the most absorbant material.
The porchlight came on, blinding me. The front door opened.
“Casey?” A dark-skinned woman about my age wearing a large T-shirt stepped on the porch. She bent down and took my shoulders in her hands. “Honey, come inside. I have to wait long enough in that bed alone as it is and here you sit on the front porch catching your death.”
Her hands rubbed my upper arms and encouraged me to stand. I stood then followed her inside my own house, my mind racing to keep up.
“Tough night?” She left me in the livingroom and padded into the kitchen.
“Yeah. Tiring.” I plopped onto the couch, thought twice about that and moved to the overstuffed chair. I scooted the footstool over and propped my aching feet on it. I wanted to get out of these clothes, to take a shower, to sleep, but I wanted to do them alone, not with this woman.
“Here.” She handed me a milky drink in a short glass. “Help you relax.” She sat her own drink on the table and knelt at the footstool. She took my right foot in her hands and massaged.
“You don’t have to do that.” The drink was good and stiff. I’d need every ounce of it and maybe more to get through tonight.
“I know you like it, baby. You just relax. After I’m done with your feet, I’ll draw us a hot bubble bath. Use that new oil I just bought, passion fruit.” She giggled. Dimples pitted each side of her face.
“I think I just want a shower tonight.” She was cute. At least I had taste.
“OK. I’ll start us a shower.”
“I’d like to just do the shower and get to sleep tonight. I’m really tired. I hope you don’t mind.” I tried to make a sympathetic smile crease my face. It felt more like trying to make a dead rubber chicken smile.
She nodded. “No problem. Betty knows when to bow out.” She stopped rubbing my feet, stood and took her drink to the kitchen. I heard water running and dishes chinking.
Sensitive little shit. But I got my time. I downed my drink then left it on the coffee table. Good thing this was the same house in my world as this one. Meant I knew the layout. Bad thing was, every room was filled with memories and emotions.
I walked down the hall toward my bedroom. I looked in the spare bedroom. No bed. Just a desk and bookshelves. I don’t know if I was more relieved or disappointed. If the boys had been here, could I have stood leaving them again? In my room I peeled off the seventies fashion rejects and opened drawers searching for my clothes. I didn’t know which were mine or hers, so I picked a large T-shirt and sweats. In the bathroom I removed the ton of makeup then stood in the shower for what seemed like an hour, letting the steam open my pours, wishing that when I stepped out, I’d be in my own house on my own world and I could sleep in my own bed. Alone.
Even the towels were the same. Very strange. I toweled off then got dressed. The shower had drained every last bit of energy reserves I had. Signifidant other or no, I crawled into the bed, a waterbed of all things, and slept like the dead until the shrill beep of the alarm woke me at six am.
The bathroom mirror reflected a hard woman, one with angles and edges. One with muscles and a tan. One side of the closet held nothing but slacks, blouses and jackets. The shoes under them were soft-soled with socks stuffed in them. Looked like something a plain clothes detective might wear, so I put them on.
“Honey, breakfast is on the table. Oh, you haven’t worn that in ages. Looks good on you.” She waved at me then went out of the room.
I followed her to the kitchen. “This outfit or any of them?”
She laughed. “That one. What with it’s history and all, I never thought you’d wear it again.”
I shrugged, having no idea what she was talking about. Breakfast consisted of something resembling colorful scrambled eggs. Was this what was called quiche? “Got any salsa?”
“You’re a queer one today.” She laughed louder.
I smiled and drank my coffee. Damned good coffee too. I doctored it up while she bent over searching in the fridge. With my luck, this Casey drank it black and that just wouldn’t do. This wasn’t in space and it wasn’t the desert. I was getting fed, showered and massaged. And living as a lesbian couple. Lord, remind me not to ask for anything else.
With luck, I’d get by without having to ask her name. Something must have her name on it, mail, fridge magnets. Hell, I’ll search her wallet if I have to. But then, honey and baby will get me far even though I don’t mean them.
She sat a huge plastic bottle of picante sauce on the table then sat to eat. “Seen the news yet?”
I shook my head. I just woke up, for Christ’s sake.
“They indited the mayor. Says this could lead all the way up to the governor and down through the police to the street criminals themselves. You better watch your back, young lady.”
A flash of memory. She always called me young lady when she was worried. “Why?”
“You know why. It’s not safe, what you’re doing.” She played with her quiche, making little twirly holes in it.
I nodded. “That wouldn’t get it done now would it?” That felt like the right response. After a good night’s sleep, some of this Casey’s instincts and memories crept their way back to my conciousness.
“It’d get just as done with you as without you and you know it.”
“Let’s not do this again.” I grabbed her hand. Some kind of connection warmed me when I touched her.
She looked at me a long moment. “I’m scared for you Casey. Real scared. I know you got big ol’ Jed there to watch your back, but he ain’t God.”
I patted her hand. “Don’t you worry. I’ll be just fine. Last night was boring. Just on my feet in the damned shoes all night. Today is just paperwork. Nothing to worry about.” I smiled. This time it was a real smile. Felt good to have someone really care.
She nodded and squeezed my hand. “You know I love you.”
I swallowed. “I know.” I knew better than to hesitate responding to that one. Been there, done that. Got more than the T-shirt, got two boys without a Dad and lots of memories and long hours at work to show for it.
*
“Hey Casey.” Jed waved at me as he closed his car door. He caught up with me in the parking lot. We walked together in the building, at least, I let it look that way. Actually, I watched where he went and stayed close to him.
“Morning. Sleep well?”
“The few minutes Sam let me sleep. Who ever said babies were precious should be shot. Sleep is what’s precious. Don’t mind me if I slip out to the car later to nap, K?”
“No problemo.” Yep. Kids were good at that. Keeping you up at all hours. Worrying about them from day one. Now wasn’t the time.
I found a desk with my name on it. Looked like this Casey hated paperwork as much as I did. Files piled messy. Half drank can of cola. Sticky table top. Apparently she didn’t work here, just stored stuff here.
“Casey!” a familiar voice boomed around the corner.
I froze.
Jed laughed. “Where’s your gun, girl?”
Gun? Oh God. I was supposed to wear that damned gun. “In my purse.”
“Caseeey Carlisle. Get yer ass in here on the double.”
That sounded just like Mark. But it couldn’t be, could it? The man I almost shot, or maybe I did shoot, or the other me shot, looked exactly like Mark. Not a stretch to believe if I’m the same in each universe that others aren’t either. I walked around the corner and into the chief’s office.
“Sit.”
Mark. Mark’s wavy brown hair. Mark’s slouch. Mark’s thick fingers.
“Are you deaf today? I said sit.”
I sat.
“Now. Jed told me what happened last night. You handled it well. I’m putting you and him up for commendation. However you know the rules about the gunfire. You’ll be working the cage until the investigation is completed.”
“The cage?” I blinked trying to keep up.
“Yes, the cage. That shooting must have really rattled your cage. See Hernandez. He’ll get you set up. You’ll like it. Eight hours straight.”
“Yes, Sir.” I got up to go.
“And one more thing.” He looked at me seriously, his eyes squinting. “You pull another stunt like you did last night, and I’ll yank you off the force so fast your head will fall off. You understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Casey.” His voice softened. “Don’t let it get to you honey. You know I got your back. Lunch? The usual?” He smiled with the same uneven teeth.
“I dunno. I’m really worn out. The shooting and all. You know.” I hedged. The usual? What the hell?
He nodded. “Tomorrow then.”
I smiled.
He bent over his desk and returned to work. I left, a little weak in the knees, but made it to my desk. This would be a good time to go home. Now. Right now. I sighed.
Jed set a cup of coffee in front of me. “You look like you could use a double right now. Lover’s tat?” He smiled wickedly and wiggled his butt.
I frowned and sipped the coffee. Bad coffee. Tasted like filtered dirt water.
“Don’t worry about it. Just go by the book and they can’t jam you up. We’ll watch out for each other and they won’t set us up either, right?” He winked.
I nodded. What kind of shit was this girl in? “What do you think they’d do?”
We headed down the hall. I had no idea where we were going, but I followed anyway.
He shrugged. “Drugs. Money. Doctored up pictures. Who knows.”
I wondered if that included living with a woman instead of a man. Was that just as different here as in my world? “Betty?” I ventured into that territory to see.
He stopped walking and whispered, “You better hope not. But that would be the easiest, even with our ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ policy. Maybe you should pack her off to Mexico or someplace exotic till this blows over.” He pushed the door open and I followed.
Did I have the money to send her some place exotic? Before me stood the cage and a literal cage it was. Floor to ceiling Xx cyclone (?) fence with a tray and table in front and a door on the side.
“You do like I said no, you hear?” Jed pointed his finger at me and made as if to shoot it.
I did the same.
Behind the cage stood a short man smoking a cigar. I hate cigars. I hate smoke of any kind. Makes me sick. I waved the air in front of my face. “Casey Carlisle reporting for duty.”
“Ain’t it aromatic?” His gravely voice grated on my nerves. This would be a long day.
“Peachy keen. You gonna let me in or what?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Quit you’re bitchin’.” He shuffled over to the door and unlocked it, swung it out for me to enter then locked it behind me. He sat me down at a desk and showed me some paperwork. Fun stuff.
*
Hours and stacks of paperwork later, I yawned and sat back. Seargent Blimey, yes, that’s his name, brought me a cup of coffee.
“Take a break. Can’t get it all done in one day.” He shuffled off behind a myriad of metal shelves filled with guns, ammunition, drugs, and other paraphenalia. Poor guy. Scuttlebutt was that he got shot close to the spine. Desk job ever since.
OK. More inane information surfacing. I sipped the coffee, ick, black, and delved back into the folders. About halfway through the third folder, I stopped. There was Mark’s name. He reportedly checked in several thousands of dollars of drugs that came up missing the next day. He’s now up on investigation. Interesting.
I read the report details. It looked clean. But still. Having the xxx investigate you couldn’t be an easy experience.
“Hey.” I looked up. Mark curled his fingers around the fence. “Having fun?”
I leaned back in my chair and stretched. “Yeah, loads.”
“Ready to come out?”
“What do you have in mind?” Was he serious? This was supposed to be fun? I rubbed my shoulders.
“Dinner? There’s some bar b q around the corner, serves some mean beer.”
“Sure.”
“Blimey! Let her out of jail.”
Mr. Blimey shuffled up the aisle and jangled a ring of keys in his hand. He unlocked the gate. I got up and thanked him. He grunted his disapproval. Made me feel like I was abandoning him. I shouldn’t. This wasn’t really my world.
I shouldered my purse and exited the gate. Mark put his arms around me in a more than friendly fashion. Me and my other self felt a bit violated at this gesture, but chose to ignore it for the time being. We walked out of the building and down the street.
The sun warmed my face in spite of the lateness of the day. That’s what I love about Texas. Regardless of the season, the sun touches you, let’s you know it’s there, just waiting to heat up for summer. Birds fluttered and chirpped in the pear trees lining the block.
We entered Bubba’s Bar b q. I squinted adjusting to the dim light inside. My stomach growled with the smell of food. We made our way through the line, piling food on our plates, and we found a booth in the corner. Regardless of the company and the wierdness of it all, I was glad I came. A good meal came in handy with the way I bounced around.
“So. Come across my filie yet?” He set his plates on the table and moved his tray to another table.
He certainly got to the point. I watched his movements. Come on Mark from my world. Get your act together and get me home.
Mark shoveled meat in his mouth. Bar b q sauce dripped down his chin. “Well?”
“You were serious?” I stuffed my own face, being purposefully vague.
He rolled his eyes and stabbed his fork at me. “We talked about this. I need that file.”
“What are you going to do with it?” I had to know.
“Best you didn’t know. Safer that way. Bad enough you’re getting rid of the file. And I don’t mean copies either. They need to disappear before XXX investigates this shindig.”
“What are you guilty of? What did you do?”
“Don’t go virgin on me now. You know exactly.”
Me? What did I know? I searched in the recesses of my brain that wasn’t really my brain for any snippet of information I could use but found nada. I gotta wing it, as usual.
“Let’s go over it one more time. Humor me. It’ll settle my nerves.” I flashed him an almost sexy smile then sipped my drink. (what drink was it?)
“That’s fair,” he conceded. “I got you scheduled to work a few night shifts in the cage.” I started to protest. I hate nite work on any world. He waved me down. “I know but this Is important now shut up and listen, please.”
Anyway, nite work and you’ll be alone most of the time. Blimey doesn’t work nights. You find out where the stash is, get it, and give it to me. You’ll bring a shoebox to work with new shoes in them. You’ll give me the stuff in the shoebox. I’ll bring the shoebox back later. The cameras won’t worry about a shoebox with you trying on a pair of shoes or something. How you get the stuff in there is your business.
The hard part is getting me the original file and making a copy and putting it in the folder and making it a good report. Nothing too different. Just if a box is checked no, you check yes. That sort of thing.”
“You don’t want much.” In fact, I was appalled at what he expected of me. What kind of screwed up relationship did we have anyway?
“Not much baby. Just enough.” He smiled and sopped up the last of his bar b q sauce with a well buttered roll. “Got it?”
“Got it.” I toyed with the rest of my dinner, suddenly losing my appetite. I ordered two apple cobbler and ice cream deserts to go. Betty might like some and she’s gonna want some appeasing when she finds out I’m not gonna want to do the hanky panky in bed with her again tonight.
“So when you gonna dump that lezbo and come to papa?” He quirked his mouth in that weird Mark way, the way that said he wanted to get his way and knew he was right whether he got it or not.
“When you get rich.” I figured that would keep him at bay a little while. If I could just last long enough to get home. This emotional roller coaster, wild adrenaline ride, whatever you want to call it, got old quick and I was losing steam fast. I was remembering more and more about this world the longer I stayed here. The more I remembered, the more tired I got, and the more I just wanted to get out of here.
“It’s been a long day.” I sighed and rubbed my neck. “I think I just need to get home and get some sleep.”
Mark looked disappointed but nodded. “Yeah after yesterday I bet you’re still a bit shook. Well it’ll blow over in a bit and you’ll be back on the streets where you belong. In those stilletos and mini skirt.” He laughed and paid the check.
Nice to see some chivalry hadn’t completely died. Mark dropped me off at the station parking lot and I picked up my car and drove straight home. I was lucky tonight. Betty had some kind of thing and would be out late. I put our deserts in the fridge and went to shower.
This chick must work out, but I didn’t see any gym equipment in the house. I’m thinking she goes to a gym. I hope she doesn’t mind a break while I occupy her body. I’m the typical geek. I wanted to go back to geeking.
I showered and threw on some sweats. Found some ambient music to relax to and made some tea. I relaxed on the couch and rehashed the past few days.
None of it really made much sense at first.
First I’m a star ship Captain watching my world get blown to bits, by who I couldn’t figure out, but not by other humans or people from earth anyway, that I understood succinctly.
Then I’m back at the lab. We rerun the test. And I’m in the desert, an assassin for who the hell knows, about to shoot Mark and his assistant, who looked exactly like the seargent on the space ship.
Before I finish squeezing the trigger I’m plopped in the middle of a busy intersection as a hooker who is actually a cop living with another woman, having some sort of love / hate relationship with her boss, who looks just like Mark, who wants me to cover his ass for some under the table deal he’s got going on.
Talk about a living soap opera. Where were the commercials? I deserve a commercial break, dammit.
I dozed on the couch, dreaming of quarreling with myself. First just tow of me, then three of me popped up. All arguing. All right. All wrong.
I heard the front door open. In the back of my mind I thought it must be Betty coming in from her thing, whatever it was. I’m supposed to know what it is, so I can’t ask. Hope she enjoyed her thing.
Hands grabbed my sweat shirt and yanked me up. Duct tape wrapped around by wrists and ankles, then my mouth, then my eyes. I remember thinking, not the eyes! That’s gonna hurt like hell when it comes off. I’ll have no eyelashes or eyebrows left. It was stupid thinking, but it’s what you do in a panic, remember the stupid things while you mind pees all over itself.
I squirmed, but they, whoever they were, had me pretty good. I finally realized if I wanted to breath decently, I had to settle down. Nose breathing is an art form when it’s the absolutely only way you have to breathe. Can’t cry, it’ll clog up the nose and no breathing. Can’t risk violent movement or getting hit, eyes will tear up, nose will sinuses will fill up, can’t breathe. Maybe I was just being robbed. Take my stuff, I thought. Take it all. It’s not really mine anyway.
I heard a bunch of foot steps, drawers and cabinets being opened and closed. Things crashing to the floor. I cringed when I heard glass because I knew those were Betty’s hand blown glass animals she’d collected since childhood. She was gonnna be pissed about that. Then I heard some thudding on the walls. No, surely that can’t be. Were they chopping into the walls? What the hell were they looking for? Whatever it was, I couldn’t tell them even if I wanted to. Maybe it’s a good thing they had taped my mouth.
Someone smelling of Brute lifted me and threw me over his shoulder like a rolled up rug. Images from black and white movies flashed. I saw myself with cement shoes, rolled up in just such a rug, thrown in to a river.
“Let’s get her back to the boss.” The guy that held me said.
“Yeah. Nothing here. But we’ll keep looking just the same.” Said a familiar voice. I hooked onto that voice. An image popped into my head. The seargent from the space ship. He was here too. Why? He wasn’t part of my world, at least not in my known world.
The guy laid me down in the back seat. He buckled the seat belts around me. What a strange thing to do. So I couldn’t squirm my way out to the floor? Or for my safety? Gee, we wouldn’t want the girl we kidnapped to bounce around if we had a wreck now would we?
Car doors closed. I’ll call him Brute must have been driving, because I smelled him from the front. Then someone else got in. He smoked a cigar. Just what I needed. I concentrated on taking light breaths, nothing deep. If that cigar smoke got into my nose, I was a goner. It’d lock me up in no time and I’d be dead before you could say Cowboys and Indians.
They turned the radio on and didn’t talk. I tried to concentrate on the number of turns we made, any sounds I could hear from outside of the car, bumps, type of road, bridges even, like they do in the movies. But those are always some special person doing the listening, someone blind or autistic or mentally retarded or something to convince the viewing public that that person could actually count the number of bumps from point A to point B. I’m here to tell you, it’s virtually impossible. I felt one section of road that was different. Could have been some part of any freeway in the Dallas Ft. Worth metroplex that they scooped up and treaded for traction because I had no idea how far we had travelled.
Finally after what seemed like hours but surely couldn’t have been, we stopped, tires crunching on gravel. Car doors opened and someone pulled me out and with an arm around me, drug me across gravel then across cement or some other hard flooring for several yards. He sat me in a chair. Someone cut the tape.
Yes. It hurt. Worse than an eyebrow wax.
The light stung my eyes for a while, but eventually I made out a desk in front of me with a high intensity lamp shining toward me. I kept a hand in front of my eyes so I could see around it. The rest was just a warehouse. Nobody in front of me but one guy at the desk. He didn’t look familiar. I started to turn around.
“Don’t.”
So I didn’t.
“Where is it?” He tapped a pen on the metal desktop.
Irritating as hell. Come to think of it, everything about today was irritating as hell. “Where is what?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Mizz Carlisle. You know what we want. Tell us and we’ll go away.”
The way he had drawn out those zzz’s made me think of The Matrix, but I knew that he was emphasizing my lifestyle choice. I crossed my legs. “What’s the matter. Your significant other not as pretty as mine?”
Someone slapped me, hard. My lip split and bled. Worse, my head throbbed and my neck wrenched with the impact. Damn.
“Let’s try this again. I need the damned control unit with the power cell and I need it now.”
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