The harsh alarm sound was even louder outside. Speakers were hidden in trees. Floodlights followed them as if powered by motion detectors. The once-deserted home of a chicken farmer named Sherwood was now equipped with some serious security.
“We’re okay,” Mark panted as they ran. “We’ll be long gone before the police show up.”
Bang!
A bullet whistled by. They weren’t alone anymore. “I think they’re already here,” Patrick whined. “No way,” Courtney gasped. “The police don’t shoot at you, even if you are trespassing.”
“Then who is?”
Two more flat cracks sounded. Bang! Bang! Grass and dirt kicked up around them.
“I’m on the bottom!” Markshouted. They were at the wall. Courtney didn’t argue. She knew what he meant. Mark put his shoulder to the wall and cupped his hands for Courtney to step into an “alley-oop” up. Courtney barely broke stride. She leaped into Mark’s hands, right foot first. Her momentum kept her going. Mark launched her upward as she pushed off her foot. She was airborne. Like a flying trapeze artist she grabbed the top of the cement wall and hoisted herself up, all in one smooth movement.
“Let’s go!” she called down before she was even settled.
Mark cupped his hands again, looking to Patrick. “C’mon!”
Patrick was unsure. “I can’t do that.”
Patrick needed inspiration. He got it. The sound of machine-gun fire cut through the alarm. To their right, the cement wall began to explode from rounds being pumped into it. Splinters of cement flew everywhere. The attack was getting closer. It was all the convincing Patrick needed. He jumped into Mark’s waiting hands, leaped up, and grabbed Courtney’s down-stretched hand. Mark pushed and Courtney pulled. Adrenaline helped. Patrick was up on the wall.
“Climb down the tree,” Courtney barked at Patrick.
Patrick didn’t need to be told twice this time. He scrambled for the tree. As the cement wall was torn apart by gunfire, Courtney leaned down and reached for Mark. Mark looked up to see that she was actually smiling.
“Welcome home,” she said with a wink.
Mark bent his legs and leaped straight up, grabbing both Courtney’s hands. Courtney leaned back, pulled hard, and a moment later Mark was on top of the wall. Without another word Courtney followed Patrick down the tree.
As Mark waited for her to climb down, he looked back at the Sherwood mansion. The clattering machine-gun fire stopped. Whoever was shooting must have realized that the intruders were gone. Mark allowed himself a few seconds to inspect the old house and wonder what had changed. Who lived there now, and why did they have the gate symbol over their fireplace? Mark couldn’t help but feel that whatever change in history had happened on Second Earth, the people in this house were part of it. The coincidence was too much. They lived on top of a flume.
He threw his legs over the side, and was about to slip onto the tree when his eyes caught movement inside the house. He glanced up to the second floor. A large window overlooked the front yard across which they had just made their escape. A lone figure stood in the window. It looked to Mark like a man. An old man. Maybe wearing a bathrobe. The light was on behind him, creating a silhouette. If the guy was upset about his house being broken into, he didn’t show it.
He stood at the window, looking out at the yard as calmly as if he were looking for deer. In the window next to him, with its front paws up on the window frame, was the black retriever. The old man had one hand on its head, patting the animal as they both gazed outside. To Mark it seemed as if they were looking at him. A cold shiver shot up his spine.
“Stop right there!” came a shouted command.
Mark looked down to the ground to see four people wearing dark clothes that could have been uniforms, sprinting along the front lawn toward him. One of them held the machine gun. Mark didn’t need to see any more. He jumped off the wall and climbed down the tree, landing by the other two.
“Let’s disappear,” he said, and the three ran into the neighborhood. Mark and Courtney’s neighborhood.
They were home.
SECOND EARTH
(CONTINUED)
The suburban street was dark. And cold. No leaves were on the trees. It felt to Mark like early spring. The dirty, melting snowbanks along the sides of the road completed the picture. The houses were dark. That was good. It was late at night. The town was asleep. There was little chance of anyone spotting three people walking around who looked as if they had just stepped out of a time machine. With any luck, Mark figured they’d get to his house without a problem.
Better, the neighborhood didn’t look any different to Mark from when he’d left. For a moment he could almost pretend as if things were normal. He knew he was kidding himself.
“When did you leave home?” Mark asked Courtney as they walked along the sidewalk.
“A couple of days after you did” was her answer. “I don’t remember the exact date. Some time in December.”
“This isn’t December,” Mark thought out loud. “Not cold enough. No Christmas lights. Feels more like late February or March.”
“How far is your house?” Patrick asked. “The police are sure to show up after all that ruckus.”
“Ruckus?” Courtney said with a grin. “You really are a geek teacher, aren’t you?”
“Not a problem,” Mark answered. “We’re here.”
Mark’s house looked exactly as it did the day he left for First Earth with Nevva Winter. As he stood in front, he had trouble understanding his own conflicting emotions. He was happy to be home, but sad that his parents weren’t there. He was encouraged that things looked normal, but knew they really weren’t. Most of all, he was nervous about going inside and finding things that would tell him that his familiar life had changed.
Mark decided to stop thinking.
“Let’s go around back,” he suggested.
He led them across the front lawn, around the side of the house, and up the stairs of a redwood deck that led to his back door. A heavy plastic container near the door was where the Dimonds kept a garden hose and a spare house key. Mark opened the container and let out a relieved breath when he saw the key was there.
“Lots of things haven’t changed at all,” he said, relaxing a little.
They entered the house and quickly closed the door behind them.
“Pull all the shades,” Mark suggested. “It wouldn’t be good if somebody saw us walking around. They might think we’re prowlers.”
“Yeah, we’d never go inside a house where we didn’t belong,” Courtney said, joking. Nobody laughed.
“C’mon people!” she cajoled. “Just trying to lighten things up!” Mark looked at the kitchen clock. “Three in the morning. Let’s get the shades down before the world wakes up.”
“What are shades?” Patrick asked.
“Sit down,” Courtney said, pointing to the kitchen table. “We got it.”
Patrick sat at the table, but he didn’t look comfortable. He sat straight up, looking at his hands, afraid to see anything more on Second Earth. He had been jumping from one alien environment to the next, and his nerves were jangled.
“We’ll be right back,” Mark said to him kindly as he and Courtney left the kitchen.
“I’m worried about him,” Courtney said to Mark softly, so Patrick wouldn’t hear. “He’s a mess.”
“He’s been through a lot,” Mark offered.
“Like we haven’t?”
“Yeah, but we’re used to it.”
The two looked at each other and laughed. “It’s true,” Courtney said, shaking her head in amazement.
“Patrick will be fine,” Mark assured her.
