Momentum (8 page)

I put on the helmet that he gave me. Then he took off his shoes and removed his socks.

“Here, put these on. It’s better than nothing,” he added, probably in response to my grimace.

Wearing someone else’s smelly socks wasn’t appealing. I took them hesitantly. They were slightly damp and sticky. Ugh. I put them on and climbed on behind him. I held on tight as David roared along the road. I wondered whose bike it was. I still had no clue how David had found me. We made a quick stop at a small store to pick up a pair of flip-flops, and then we were on our way again.

We drove right up to the departure terminal where David beckoned me to follow him.

“Are you just going to leave the bike here?” I asked, surprised.

“Yeah. I don’t have time to do anything else with it. Come on, we have to get our tickets.”

He hurried me in, and went up to the counter getting his credit card out. I hung back as he had asked me to, and once he had our boarding passes we walked to the gate, stopping at airport security where David handed over our passports. I was glad he’d had the presence of mind to bring mine. We boarded our flight to Nassau.

“Okay, start talking,” I demanded, once we were settled into our seats. “How did you find me?”

He nodded. “I’m a Wanderer. I was assigned to you.”

“What?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“Unlike Stan, I’m a regular Wanderer. Our main purpose is to learn, and we’re often assigned human subjects for study. I was assigned to you.”

“When? Why?”

“As soon as you moved to Mountain View. I wasn’t told why I was assigned to you in particular at the time. I’m working that out at the moment.”

“So, what have you
worked out
?”

“I was assigned to you because of your family, in particular, because of Rupert.”

“Dad?”

“Yes. Rupert is a Sigma-Wanderer.”

My head was starting to feel like it was going to explode into millions of pieces of brain goo. “Look, this is confusing. Explain the Wanderer thing again. You claim to time travel. Stan said that he
wandered
me over to the Bahamas. So, why can’t you do the same if you’re a Wanderer, too? Why are we taking a flight home?”

“Only Sigma-Wanderers can travel from place to place–geographically. Wanderers like me can only travel through time and dimensions.”

“I’m not really understanding the dimension thing….”

“I know. It’s hard to get your head around it. We really only experience the world in one dimension. However, parallel dimensions exist. At the beach, remember how the house you were in disappeared?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it didn’t really disappear. It’s still there. What happened was that I wandered you to another dimension. That house just doesn’t exist in
this
dimension.”

“Wow, you’re blowing my mind. So what dimension are we in?”

“They aren’t named, but we’re not in the same dimension as your family anymore. Rupert thought it would be safer not to bring you back home for now. So, although we’re going back to Mountain View, we’re going back in another dimension from your family.”

“So I won’t see them? Where are we going then?”

“My dad lives in Mountain View, in this dimension. We’re going to stay with him until it’s safe to bring you back home.”

I nodded, sat back, and closed my eyes. His dad? David looked exhausted. I decided to give him a break. We were landing soon anyway.

It was time to transfer to another flight. David took my hand and led me through the long hallways to immigration, which we passed through quickly, then headed to the next gate to fly back to the U.S. This flight would take us to New York, where we would catch a final flight to San Francisco where David’s dad was picking us up. David slumped into his seat and closed his eyes. I needed more answers, but now was not the time. I was tired as well. I had hardly slept in the last twenty-four hours. I closed my eyes and let the drone from the engines lull me to sleep. I pretty much slept through both the flights.

“Poppet, it’s time to wake up.” David tugged at my sleeve.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m up.” I rubbed my sleepy eyes.

“We’re going to be landing in about an hour. Here are a few things to freshen up with, then we’ll have something to eat.” He handed me a complimentary airline pouch, which I grabbed before heading to the restroom to make myself a bit more presentable. I gasped when I saw myself in the mirror. Whatever was in that little kit would not be able to deal with this mess. I needed a makeover! I brushed my teeth and tried to deal with my hair. I ended up putting it up in a low bun at the nape of my neck. At least it looked tidy. The tube of cocoa butter helped restore some of the glow to my face, but my eyes still looked puffy, and my lips would have benefited from some gloss. Still, I guessed it would have to do. When I got back to my seat, the tray was down, and a glass of orange juice and a turkey sandwich waited for me.

“Thanks.”

“It’s all they had.
The flight attendant said you’d better hurry up and eat because we’re going to start our final descent soon, and you’ll have to flip up your tray.
We’ll get some real food once we land.”

I sat down and looked him over. His shoulder was touching mine; I fought not to rub up against it. How come he didn’t look as rough as I did? He looked as hot as ever; my heart somersaulted. Then I remembered my current look. Yuck. No wonder.

“Don’t be silly, you look as beautiful as ever,” he said.

“What? I didn’t say anything,” I blurted.

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I’m still tired.”

“What did you mean, don’t be silly?”

“Well, you were worried about not looking your best….”

“Yeah, but I didn’t say anything!”

He rubbed his shoulder against mine. “We’re touching. I can read your thoughts.”

I instinctively drew away from him. “What the heck? Read my thoughts?”

 
“Yeah, I have a very strong connection with you. I can feel you, even read your thoughts when I touch you. That’s how I found you. I
felt
you and tracked you.”

I was at a loss for words.

“
Flip your tray table into the upright and locked position, and please fasten your seatbelts,” the flight attendant
instructed, interrupting us.

 
“David?” I prompted, as soon as she left.

Looking weary again, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Later, please?”

I bit down on my lip and peered through the window at the San Francisco skyline below, as I tried to take it all in–Wanderers, mind-reading, tracking.

We had no luggage, so we made it out in no time. I noticed a lady waving at us as we walked out of the gate area. David walked right over and threw his arms around her. I felt a twinge of jealousy rip through me. The woman was model gorgeous, and she was way too close to my David.

“Morena! Great to see you. What are you doing here? Where’s Dad?” David asked.

Morena? Strange name, but it sounded familiar. Her smile had turned into a frown, but that just made her look even more attractive. Her green eyes softened, and she smiled when she noticed me as I came forward and looped my arm through David’s.

“Arizona!” She wrapped her arms around me and drew me in for a hug. “I’m so glad David managed to find you. How are you? Are you hurt in any way? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”

“No, I’m fine. Who are you?”

Arching her eyebrows, she looked at David.

“Arizona is having issues remembering stuff at the moment,” he explained. “Where’s Dad? I thought he was going to pick us up.”

“I don’t know. We were supposed to meet at his place. I was dropping off some clothes for Arizona, and then we were going to drive here together. He wasn’t home. I waited for a while, but he didn’t show. Finally, I let myself in. I found this note on the coffee table,” she said, her voice breaking.

I
t was a busy Friday evening at The Hurler, all the regular customers happily settled with their favorite brews in hand. All but one. Sophie noticed that Mr. Swooner was trying to drink from an empty beer mug. She hurried a refill over to his table in the corner. He didn’t even look up as she switched his empty mug for one brimming with foam. He was totally immersed tapping on his laptop keys, sporadically running his fingers over his handwritten notes, his
outlines
, as he called them. Mr. Swooner–no one knew his first name–was their resident author, writer of bodice-rippers. Resident, as in he was the first one in the door and generally the last customer to leave every day. He was a constant in Sophie’s life. She loved observing him from the counter as he wrote, his facial expressions reflecting his thoughts. Right now, he seemed somber. Perhaps his heroine was in trouble. She left him to his thoughts and walked back to the counter where a group of drunks were impatiently waiting for refills.

Sophie was glad she had managed to convince the owner, Al, to hire Dan and her back after their sudden departure a year ago. She had panicked when their mug shots were flashed on television. As soon as she saw them, she had grabbed Dan, and they had just taken off without so much as a goodbye, after helping themselves to the cash in the till. Then they’d spent a year on the run, working in seedy bars all over the country, running away at any sign of trouble. Three months ago, they had decided to come back to San Francisco, back to The Hurler.

They’d come back to return the money they had stolen, in hopes that it would convince Al to hire them back. Of all the places they’d worked, this had been the best, the easiest. Al was generous to a fault. Sophie knew that he wouldn’t call the cops. He had way too many skeletons in his closet for that. She was, however, scared of what he might do when he saw them. She needn’t have worried. As soon as Al saw them hesitantly peeking in through the doorway, he’d strode over and welcomed them back like they were long-lost buddies. So, they’d kept the money. And they had stayed and worked for him, working longer than normal hours to make it up to him.

Sophie observed him fondly as he threw darts at the board in the corner while joking with his customers. He was a bear of a man, not big, but cuddly-looking. He was
unique
to say the least. Sophie smiled as he bent to pick up a fallen dart, his new lilac leggings stretching precariously. He wore a matching boa wrapped carelessly around his neck on top of his gray Twisted Sister concert t-shirt. His skin glowed from a gentle dusting of glitter powder. One would have expected a garishly made-up face to top off this look, but that wasn’t the case. He reminded Sophie of her Uncle Joe with a kind, generous, heart-shaped face topped by pepper-gray hair cut into a short bob. He wore glasses and sported a well-trimmed beard, which he played with when he was worried. He wasn’t worried at the moment; his whole face beamed with happiness as he threw another dart, hitting the board dead center and chuckling with delight. Al had taken an instant liking to Dan. It wasn’t hard to see why. They both enjoyed the simple things in life. For Al, that was a bar full of paying customers.