CHAPTER ELEVEN

Staying low, we crept behind a partition next to the side exit door. As the train slowed to a crawl, I peeked past the rows of seats to the car directly in front of ours. No sign of Dr. Gordon yet.

“Ready to jump?” I asked.

Kelly took in a breath and rocked on her toes. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

When the train halted, Gordon burst through the door between the two cars and limped toward us, aiming a handgun. “Don’t move or you’re dead!”

I froze. Kelly grabbed my arm. Her hot breaths puffed against my neck as the side door slid open.

Gordon pressed the gun barrel against Kelly’s head. “Give it up, or I’ll blow her brains out. Just come with me. Mictar wants to see you.”

I thrust Gordon’s weapon arm up and kneed him in the groin. When he doubled over, I kicked him in the chin. He snapped back and landed face up in the aisle.

After grabbing Kelly’s hand, I leaped for the loading platform and hit the ground running. We scrambled down the stairway and sprinted along a sidewalk through a construction zone, leaping over broken concrete and dodging orange barricades as streetlights guided our way.

We stopped at a corner and waited for several cars to pass. I looked back toward the station. Gordon limped down the stairs while scanning the sidewalk in the other direction.

“I don’t think he’s seen us yet.” When the final car passed, we bent low, crept across the street, and ducked into an alley. In front and on both sides, brick buildings stretched to four stories high. A fire escape rode up the wall to the left, similar to the metal stairs we had used earlier.

I looked at the horizontal bridge above. Hovering at least a dozen feet straight up, it might as well have been a mile in the air. I could never jump that high.

I scanned the alley and spotted a trash dumpster several feet away. “Think we can push the dumpster under the fire escape?”

Kelly looked at the suspended ladder. “If we do, he might use it to follow us.”

“Maybe not. I think he’s hurt.” I set my hands on the side of the dumpster and gave it a hefty shove. It budged an inch or two.

Kelly leaned her shoulder against the worn-away lettering on the back. Looking at me, she said, “On three?”

Setting my feet, I gave her a nod. “Let’s do it.”

“One … two … three!”

While I shoved with my hands, Kelly pushed with her shoulder. As the dumpster slid, the metal bottom screeched against the pavement.

I pulled Kelly back. “With all that noise, we might as well send up a flare.”

She looked at the ladder again. “Think we got it close enough?”

“Let’s find out.” I climbed the dumpster and perched on the edge closest to the fire escape, still a few feet away from directly underneath the ladder. I jumped and grabbed one of the rungs, but the rusted stairway stayed put.

Kelly scaled the dumpster, jumped from the top, and wrapped her arms around my waist. With a squeal, the ladder lurched a half inch but stopped. Swinging her legs back and forth, she forced our bodies to sway.

With every swing, my fingers slipped. As the hinges continued to whine, the stairway eased down in rhythmic pulses until we reached the ground. Once we set the supports in place, we dashed up to the first platform and waited while the bridge elevated, its hinges again squawking a rusty complaint.

Careful to keep our footfalls quiet on the metal steps, we hurried to the top of the building and ducked behind a parapet, a three-foot-high wall that bordered the roof.

I stretched out my numbed fingers and peeked down at the street. Dr. Gordon skulked into the alley, keeping a hand in his jacket pocket as he swung his head from side to side.

I jerked back and whispered, “He’s down there.”

Kelly leaned close. “Did he see us?”

“Hard to tell.” Staying low, I walked to an access hatch at the center of the roof and tried the latch. Locked.

Kelly skulked across the roof and joined me. “If he thinks we’re up here, he’s bound to find us. He’ll just come up the stairs on the inside.”

“Not if we can get to the next roof.” We walked to the far edge of the building and looked at the alley between us and the parapet on the other side. “What do you think? Maybe fifteen feet across?”

“At least.” Kelly backed up several steps, puffed a few breaths, and sprinted toward the edge. She leaped onto our parapet, launched herself across the gap, and touched down on the other roof, but her foot slipped, sending her into a tumbling forward fall.

I backed up a few steps, ran ahead, and vaulted over the gap. When I landed on the gravelly roof, I stooped where Kelly lay curled on her side. “Kelly! Are you okay?”

She gave no answer.

I turned her body face up and cradled her in my arms. Blood streamed from a scalp wound, forking into three rivulets that traced across both cheeks and over her nose. I brushed gravel from her hair and used my sleeve to dab at the blood on her nose. “Kelly? Can you hear me?”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Where am I?”

“On a rooftop. You jumped from one building to another.”

“Oh. Right. I remember now.” With my help, she rose to her feet, wincing while letting out a groan. “My head feels like a hammer’s pounding it.”

“No wonder. You were out cold. I hope you don’t have a concussion.”

“It’s not that bad. My vision’s clear, so I think I’m okay.” As she swept gravel from her pants, she turned to the other building. “I guess we’d better lay low for a while.”

We sat side-by-side with our backs to the parapet, low enough to keep our heads out of sight. A pair of sirens wailed in the distance, one somewhere in front and another to the rear, farther away. Now that we were above the streetlights, only the glow of a half moon and a single exposed bulb next to the roof’s access door illuminated our surroundings. Still, it was enough to shed light on Kelly’s wounds. Blood oozed from her scalp into her ear and dripped from the lobe, falling into her hair and clotting.

“You’ve got a pretty bad cut on your head.”

“I’ve had bad cuts before.” She touched her scalp and winced again. “Dad makes me play basketball with the guys. To toughen me up, or so he says. One of his buddies plays like a gorilla with razor blades for elbows. He caught me square in the nose once. I bled like a stuck pig for almost an hour.”

I grinned. “So that’s why you jump like a kangaroo. All that basketball.”

“Yeah. At least it’s good for something.” After staring straight ahead for a few seconds, she nudged me with an elbow. “Hey, you were awesome back at the train. Nice kick.”

“Thanks.” I squirmed, trying to get comfortable on the rough surface. “I thought you might be mad at me. It was a pretty risky move. He could’ve shot you.”

“I was mad. For a second, I thought you were nuts. But you really came through.”

“I’m just glad it worked out.” I settled back and folded my hands on my stomach. “Okay, somehow we got transported to Chicago, but it looks different.”

“Different? How?”

“Did you notice how people are dressed? One guy looked like a disco-hall reject. And the cars. I saw a shiny new Pinto. You can’t even find them in junkyards anymore.”

“I saw the disco guy and women with poofy hair. It’s like we traveled in time or something.”

“Or to some kind of parallel universe.”

“You say that like it happens all the time.” She altered her voice to a computer-like monotone. “Greetings, new arrivals from universe eighty-six. You are now in universe ninety-nine. Enjoy your visit. But before you leave, be sure to purchase souvenir hats and key chains at the Ninety-Nine Boutique.”

I laughed and let my gaze linger on her. As blood trickled between her gleaming eyes, she seemed the picture of contrasts — humor and femininity packaged in toughened leather. “Well, I’ve been through a lot, but nothing this weird.”

Kelly glanced around with narrowed eyes. “We need to get our bearings. Figure out what’s going on. Maybe find a media source.”

“A media source?” The article headline flashed to mind — Nightmare Epidemic Continues. What could it have meant? I looked at the night sky. With lights streaming from a hundred directions, the city’s haze glowed, as if emanating a light of its own. It seemed heavy. Close. Too close.

Kelly nudged me again. “What are you thinking?”

“Just getting a feel for this place. It’s stuffy. Kind of warm.”

She nodded. “Too warm for October. More like June or July.”

“Chicago in the summertime.”

She raised a finger. “Which means the cottonwood tree at my house has green leaves now, just like in the photo.”

“I see where you’re going.” I drew my knees up and draped my arms over them. “You’re wondering if we got zapped to that universe.”

“Or that time. I’m thinking we should go home and see if the girl in the picture is there. Maybe we can find some answers.”

I interlocked my fingers. “The answers have to be linked to the coffins. We saw them here and in our world. It’s the only connection we know about.”

“Whoever the victims are, I’ll bet they were murdered by Gordon and that Mictar guy. Remember what they said about the burglar and the girl?”

“Think it’s the same girl? The one who looks like my mother?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Okay, so we head for Iowa.” I reached for my back pocket and found nothing inside. “No wallet. We don’t even have bus fare.”

She set her arm in a hitchhiker’s pose. “We have thumbs. We can bum a ride.”

I twisted and looked over the side of the building. A tall bank clock showed 12:05. “Who’s going to give us a ride at midnight, especially with you bleeding like that?”

She shrugged. “I guess we’ll see who’s brave enough.”

When she started to rise, I pulled her back down. “Let’s stay put a little while longer. At least until we’re sure Gordon’s gone.”

For the next half hour, we chatted quietly. She prodded me for stories about my adventures, and after each tale, she asked for another. My final story involved an escape with Clara from a terrorist in Saudi Arabia. We zoomed on motorcycles down rough stone staircases and through filthy alleys teeming with rats until we vaulted over a deep channel our pursuer couldn’t cross.

When I finished, Kelly ’s mouth hung open, then she swallowed and said, “Take me with you next time. I want to go for a ride like that.”

I rose to my feet and dusted off the seat of my pants. “Trust me. It’s not something to hope for.” I walked to the roof access, a wooden door in a small dormer that rose about eight feet above the gravel. Although it was locked, a hard kick splintered the jamb and banged it open, revealing a steep flight of dimly lit stairs.

I tiptoed down. Kelly followed close behind. After the narrow first flight, the stairwell widened and brightened, finally coming to a dead end at a metal door. I pushed it open, revealing the seating area of a delicatessen, closed for the night and illuminated only by streetlamps outside.

Kelly looked at her bloodstained fingers. “Let’s find the restrooms and get cleaned up before we hit the road.”

“Good idea.”

After washing, we met at the front door. “Easy enough to get out,” I said as I turned the deadbolt, “but we can’t lock it up again.”

“So the manager loses a little pastrami from his fridge. He’ll survive.” When she pushed the door open, a horn blared in load pulses that vibrated the windows.

“A burglar alarm,” I hissed. “Run!”

We rushed out to the sidewalk and headed for a crowd of people streaming from a corner pub about a block and a half away. Just before we reached the next street, I pulled Kelly to a halt. “Just play it cool. We didn’t steal anything.”

Slowing her breathing, she looked at me. “I’m not worried about the cops. I’m worried about Gordon. That alarm would wake the dead.”

As we ambled toward the pub, a police siren whined in the distance. I pointed at the customers who were still filing out, most laughing, a few staggering. “Let’s just blend in with them. No one will know.”

“Except that we’re underage, not acting drunk, and not smelling like booze.” Kelly picked up a castaway beer bottle. “We could fake being drunk.”

I pulled her into the doorway of a closed bail bond office and leaned against the brick building. “Not a great plan. We’ll just attract more attention.”

“Do you have a better one?”

I scanned the street. On the opposite side, a man in his early twenties wearing a muscle shirt was unloading a string-bound stack of newspapers from the back of a van marked Stoneman Enterprises.

“Let’s ask him where he’s delivering,” I said, pointing. “Maybe we can get a lift.” After looking both ways and seeing that Gordon was nowhere in sight, I strode to the delivery man, Kelly at my side. “You heading out west at all?” I asked.

“Yep.” His collar-length brown hair falling into his eyes as he worked, he dropped the stack and cut the string with a flick of a pocketknife. “I take the early edition as far as Des Moines. I’m heading out as soon as I deliver these.”

“Do you have room for a couple of hitchhikers hoping to go a little farther than Iowa City? We … uh … lost our transportation home.”

“It’ll take till morning to get there.” He narrowed his eyes. “You look kind of young to be out drinking in this part of town so late at night.”

Kelly held up the bottle. “Oh, you mean this stage prop. We’re brother and sister. We were acting in a play at a theatre and lost our way on the ‘L’ train.” She set the bottle down, pinched her pant leg with one hand, and touched her still-bleeding cut with the other. “See our costumes and the cool makeup job they did on my machete wound?”

The young man gave us a smirk that provided no clue whether he believed her or not. “With all my papers, there won’t be any room in the back, but you can squeeze in up front.”

I extended my hand. “I’m Nathan Shepherd, and this is Kelly.”

The man wrapped my fingers in a powerful grip. “Gunther Stoneman.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” The name matched the sign on the van. Could he be related to the Stoneman who helped me at the Walmart? “Your name sounds familiar. Have we met?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“Okay. Well, thanks for the ride.”

“Sure thing. Go ahead and get in while I load this paper box. I’ll be right back.”

After Kelly boarded the van through the front passenger door, I slid in next to her, hip to hip. Kelly reached back, pulled a newspaper from a bundle, and spread it over our laps. The date on the front page stood out, as if pulsing — July 29, 1978.