Fook (12 page)

“Go back!” Autumn yelled as she waved her
friends toward the safety of their homes, her nervous stagger
quickly becoming an all out sprint.

“Where’s the ball?” Jonathan asked
confused.

“Forget the ball! They disappeared!” she
replied as she ran passed them.

“The ball’s lost?” Callie asked.

“You didn’t hit it that hard,” Jonathan
attempted to regain some of his dignity.

“I hit it harder then you did,” Callie poked
fun.

“Come on!” Autumn yelled again.

Forgetting the ball, Jonathan also bolted
for the house, quickly being overtaken by the pretty redhead.

TWELVE

“Explain to me again why we’re participating in this
antiterrorism thing,” Officer Michael Lucern questioned from the
passenger seat as he peered out his window at the tree lined,
rolling hills along Interstate 90.

“Because the Chief asked us to,” Phil Bishop
fed his partner the simplest explanation he had. He didn’t want to
make the long trek from the quiet, rural streets of Cannon to the
monstrosity that was Boston. Early on in his marriage and his
career, he and his wife had spent three years living and working in
the city. Out of those three years came more experience then he
could have ever asked for and was glad to receive, but it also made
him realize that, while he loved police work, he didn’t love that
type. He didn’t want to be dealing with drug addicts, gang members
and prostitutes day in and day out and while he understood the
inherent risks involved with his chosen profession, the thought
that he might leave his then pregnant wife and future daughter
without a husband and father never did sit well with him. It was a
feeling very vocally shared by his wife. So, six months into their
pregnancy, they’d made the decision to up and leave the big city,
leaving their small apartment in exchange for a large country house
deep in the secluded woods of Western Massachusetts. With the
highest of recommendation from his chief back in Boston, he easily
found a position in the Cannon Police Department where he’d
remained ever since.

“Really? Do you do everything the Chief asks
you to?” Michael joked.

“Yes.”

“So if the Chief asked you to jump off
a—?”

“—Given that the highest bridge in Cannon is
a whopping ten feet tall...yes,” Phil instinctually guessed where
his partner was heading with his typical, childish humor. While a
great police officer and his best friend, Michael Lucern was the
most immature thirty-eight year old he’d ever met.

“Building. I was going to say building,”
Michael finished his previous sentence with a smug tone and equally
smug smile.

“Well, I’m sure that you’re thinking of the
tallest building in Cannon, which we both know is the church at the
center of town...if you’re counting the steeple that is...and since
I am a God fearing Christian who attends church every Sunday and
believes that my Lord and Savior would do everything in his power
to protect me, my answer would still be yes.”

“Do you have an answer for everything?”

“Yes,” Phil ended the exchange with a
smile.

“Seriously though,” Michael changed the
subject back to the road trip. “What second rate terrorist would
think that a small town in rural Mass. would make a good
target?”

“I don’t know? That same woman attacks the
chili cook off with her atomic butt burner concoction every
year.”

“Hey, my mother’s chili is delicious and you
know it. I’ve seen you put down more than one bowl at a time.”

“It wasn’t me that always complained about
it. It was Trish who wouldn’t let me sleep in the same room with
her afterwards.”

Michael still wasn’t sure how to handle the
subject of his partner’s deceased wife. Their families having been
so close, he’d witnessed firsthand the pain that Trisha’s cancer
had caused them. He’d always been amazed at how well Phil had
handled the situation, never letting on just how torn up inside he
likely was. Phil and Trish had fought that battle together for
nearly nine years before finally losing and not once had he seen
his partner break down.

“Well,” Phil broke the growing, awkward
silence. “Speaking of burning concoctions, you should have seen my
kitchen this morning.”

“Katie trying to cook again?” Michael
laughed, more than a little familiar with his godchild’s culinary
gifts.

“The eggs looked like bacon,” Phil shook his
head, still trying to grasp how that was even possible.

“Well it could have been worse, they could
have looked like meatloaf. At least they were in the same category
this time. If you ask me, it sounds like she’s getting better.”

“Funny.”

“She means well,” Michael reassured.

“I know she does. It just worries me
sometimes. Trish was the better parent. I’m afraid that without her
around I might have stunted Katie’s ability to fully blossom into
the woman that I know she should be. I mean, she’s only sixteen and
she’s going to be a mother. Trish and I didn’t even think about
having a child until we were in our mid twenties and well
established in our lives and careers. What is she going to do?”

“She’s going to thrive,” Michael reassured
his partner in the first real moment of vulnerability he’d seen
since the loss of Trish. “She’s a strong girl with a strong father
and even though the situation might not seem ideal right now, God
always has a plan. Eventually that plan will become clear and
you’ll discover that this whole situation is actually a blessing in
disguise.”

“How do you do that?”

“What?”

“That. How do you go from obnoxious,
post-pubescent, middle aged teenager one moment to mature,
reassuring adult friend the next?”

“It’s a gift I guess,” Michael smiled.
“Don’t worry, it’ll pass. Before you know it I’ll be stealing your
car, telling you how much I hate you and raiding your liquor
cabinet again in no time.”

“As long as you don’t end up pregnant,” Phil
grinned as he signaled to pass a vehicle.

“I can’t promise anything.”

THIRTEEN

“...Transformers!” the shouted completion of Jason’s
sentence greeted their familiarly different surroundings. However,
as worked up as he’d been just prior to making the jump, nothing
could distract him from the strange, tingling sensation running up
and down his spine. “Do you feel that?”

“I think we made it,” Derek whispered,
quickly scanning their surroundings as he patted himself down,
looking for any odd or unfamiliar limbs. His one fear, other than
miscalculating the landing point and ending up floating out in
space was that, by some stroke of very bad luck, they would appear
in the exact spot as some unlucky maintenance worker from the
electric company.

“Do you feel that?” Jason asked again, in an
even more excited tone.

“Feel what?” Derek responded confused but at
the same time relieved to have all of his limbs and no extras.

“That! The tingling sensation!” Jason
emphasized his enthusiasm over what seemed an almost orgasmic
experience for him. Closing his eyes, the sensation grew, spreading
from his spine until every part of his body, right down to the
hairs on his head shared the same odd sensation.

“Are you alright?” Derek questioned,
concerned and a bit confused since he felt nothing whatsoever.

Jason gasped, holding his breath momentarily
before releasing it with a long sigh as the sensation faded.

“I hope you brought a clean pair of pants,”
Derek joked as he watch a wave a relaxation overtake Jason’s
body.

As the tingling sensation dissipated, Jason
opened his eyes to find Derek staring at him, both concerned and
confused. “You didn’t feel that?” Jason questioned the strange
look.

“Did I feel that? No. Have I felt that?
Just…not with another guy by my side.”

“It was unbelievable,” Jason closed his eyes
again, trying to get it back.

“I didn’t feel anything but it could have
been because I was too excited about not being...you
know...dead.”

Realizing that the sensation wasn’t coming
back, Jason once again opened his eyes while at the same time
remembering the little girl that they’d seen just before activating
the device.

“Shit, the girl!” Jason announced as he
turned toward the fence.

She wasn’t there. Quickly he scanned the
perimeter of the transformer yard; still no little girl. “What do
you think happened to her? Is she ok?” he questioned, remembering
the popping noises and loud, electrical snap that had erupted from
the surrounding equipment just before they’d jumped.

“Just the equipment reacting to the sudden
power surge. I’m sure she’s fine. If the equipment had exploded we
would have likely heard or seen it just as we made the jump. The
moment we left, the surge was over and the equipment, if still
functioning, probably returned to normal as if we’d never even been
there.”

The explanation made sense. The electrical
noises that had come from the equipment had been loud but they
definitely hadn’t been explosions. Looking through the fence, to
the tree line where the little girl had stood, Jason realized that
he could no longer see the houses from which she’d probably come.
It was likely that the neighborhood, that would eventually reside
only a hundred or so yards away, hadn’t been built yet.

“They really let this place go didn’t
they?”

Jason turned to see Derek disconnecting the
device from the surrounding equipment.

“I mean look at this stuff,” Derek admired
the transformer to which the machine had just been connected. “The
paint looks so fresh and the wires don’t show any signs of
deterioration.”

Jason couldn’t say that he’d paid much
attention to the site’s condition prior to that moment but
everything did appear to be newer than he remembered. Even the
steel plaque on the gatehouse wall seemed to gleam beneath the
morning sun. They had obviously traveled back a significant amount
of time and since they’d ended up with their feet planted firmly on
the ground, he could only assume that they’d hit their desired
target.

Kneeling beside the briefcase, Jason tapped
at the iPad, scrolling through the thousands of lines of data that
had been transmitted between the tablet and the device.

“System core stable,” Jason read the three
word sentence displayed on the screen with a sigh as he patted his
right, front pocket. Just as Derek had brought with him a bag of
spare parts, he’d brought with him an extra core.

“So now what?” Derek announced as Jason
continued to stare at the sentence on the screen.

Swiping at the screen, Jason closed the
program as he lowered the lid and engaged the latches on the case.
“What do you mean now what?” he asked confused as he got to his
feet with the case. Derek was standing beside him, his backpack of
electrical toys slung over his shoulder as if he were ready for
class.

“I got us here, so now what do we do?”

“Don’t ask me, this was your trip.”

“I’m just joking, come on,” Derek motioned
as he started toward the gate.

“Where are we going?”

“We came all this way. Don’t you wanna take
a look around?”

“Just a quick look and then we need to get
back,” Jason agreed as he followed.

“To hell with that. We didn’t risk our lives
to just poke around the woods for a few minutes.”

As the gate slowly retracted, Derek slipped
out of the yard. Carrying the case, Jason quickly followed.

“I hope you brought your hiking shoes,”
Derek continued as he began walking down the dirt road that they’d
previously traversed by way of the car still parked outside the
gate in the future.

“Why?” Jason glanced down at his brown
loafers and khaki pants.

“Because it’s a long walk back to the city,”
Derek’s voice faded as the distance between them grew.

Jason jogged to catch up to him. “We can’t
walk all the way back to the city. Heck, it took us almost twenty
minutes to drive here and this thing isn’t exactly light,” he
motioned to the metal briefcase as he caught up to his speed
walking partner.

Stopping in his tracks, Derek thought. “You
know, you’re right.”

“Yes, I know I’m right. Now, let's just take
a look around and then—”

“—I guess we’ll have to hitchhike,” Derek
announced, in an excited tone, the plan he’d obviously decided on
already.

“Hitchhike?” Jason responded, hesitant to
follow. “It would be safer to test the machine again,” he shouted
as he again played catch up.

“Nonsense. It’s the nineties, you know, the
time of peace and love.”

“That was the sixties,” Jason argued as he
caught up. “The nineties had AIDS, Dessert Storm and George
Bush...the first one.”

“Yeah, but we have Obama, so how much worse
could it have really been?”

*****

“This is a stick-up!”

Dustin Hendrix turned to see his five year
old daughter standing beside him with what appeared to be a crude
gun cut from the side of an empty cardboard box. From the print on
the side of the paper weapon, it appeared to have been a shipment
of Jameson Whisky.

“Don’t shoot,” he played along, throwing his
hands in the air.

“Bang! Bang!” the little girl yelled as the
improvised gun jumped in her hands with each shot.

He realized that he wasn’t going to win any
father of the year awards by encouraging his five year old daughter
to hold up a liquor store, let alone kill the clerk. He figured
he’d probably been knocked out of the running the moment he’d
chosen to bring her to work in the first place, so, grasping his
chest, he stumbled backwards and dropped to one knee.

“You got me,” he gasped.

“Daddy, they aren’t real bullets,” Abby
laughed as she lowered the gun.

Still pretending to be shot, Dustin
partially removed his hands from his chest to peek at his wounds.
“Oh no. Abby, look,” he groaned.