The Adventures of Tremain & Christopher BoxSet Read online

  "I'll accept that this transmitter of yours is keeping us alive, somehow," Marcus started, "but what caused this in the first place?"

  Tremain turned to him, eyes blazing.

  “I've been working on that this whole time!" He sat down hard. "I may be many things, but I’m not oblivious." He started drumming his fingers on the table next to him, thinking. Picking up the coordinate box, he fingered a contact point and glanced at the computer across the room. "I think I may be able to trace the energy signatures to answer that question, Marcus."

  Grabbing a cable, he connected it to the coordinate box, then to the console of the transmitter. He then stretched a very long cable to the computer on the far side of the room and activated the program he'd used earlier.

  "Now, if I can just get a clear picture," he pointed to the coordinate box, "Christopher, I need you to fine tune that box. There’s a dial on the side."

  Christopher slowly turned the dial until his uncle motioned him to stop. The scientist stared at the screen for a long time, in perfect stillness, not even blinking, then suddenly collapsed in his chair, shock clear on his face.

  "What is it, Uncle?" Christopher asked, alarmed.

  "Did you find the problem?" inquired Marcus. Tremain stared at the floor for a moment more before replying.

  "It's my fault." He said in a small voice, stricken with the realization. "All my fault."

  "What do you mean, your fault?" Marcus asked. Tremain walked slowly back over to the transmitter.

  "Christopher and I had an . . . unplanned . . . test run earlier." He gestured to the compromised coordinate box. "There weren't any coordinates . . . we went somewhere, I don't know where. If I hadn't thought to try and track where we went . . .” his voice trailed off, he looked lost, then visibly shook himself. “Marcus, you said the power grid went black."

  Marcus nodded in reply.

  "That was no power surge, that was an energy pulse . . . feedback caused by us and this machine due to not having a destination set. This pulse must have traveled along all energy lines. I can only assume through all space and time." He ran his hands through his hair again. "Most energy will have a hiccup and be fine, but something was disrupted by the pulse . . . something very important."

  "But what?" Christopher asked. His eyes were wide. Tremain, seeing the fear in his nephew, put aside his own recrimination and stood, his eyes afire once more.

  "That, is what we're going to find out." Grabbing the coordinate box again, he took the top off and stared manipulating the components inside. Running over to the computer, he started punching in instructions. "I think I can use the transmitter to send us to the point where the energies diverge."

  "And do what, Tremain?" Marcus asked. He was standing by the transmitter, disbelief written in his face. "Stop the energy pulse? You don't even know where . . . or if you'll end up!"

  Tremain finished his calculations on the computer and started grabbing useful items and stuffing them in a small backpack.

  "That's irrelevant. I'm working on a theory." Pointing to the trees outside, he continued. "Besides, I can't make the matter any worse than it already is. This transmitter may have caused the problem, but it's also the only way to correct it. As long as it continues to function, we have a chance." He handed the now full pack to the Senator and found the remote in his pocket. He rummaged in his other pocket and pulled out a roll of smart film. Unrolling it, he flattened it out and grabbed the remote. “Now to link the quantum states . . . there." He stood up and checked his handiwork. The film was actually a tablet, icons visible on the surface. "I’ve linked my transmitter to my tablet here where I can monitor things better.” He stepped onto the transmitter platform. Christopher grabbed his book bag and ran to stand next to his uncle. "Christopher, I can’t ask you to come with me. It might be too dangerous.”

  Christopher didn’t budge.

  “I’m coming with you.” He stared straight ahead.

  “Are you coming, Marcus?” Tremain asked his friend. Marcus stood just outside the platform edge, holding the pack out to Tremain. The scientist stared at it.

  "I'll stay here and hold down this end."

  Tremain took the pack.

  "Are you sure?"

  The Senator nodded.

  "Someone should stay here to ensure the transmitter stays running. I'd not be any good to you, wherever you're going. Besides," he added ruefully, "you've always been the adventurer, Tremain, not me."

  Tremain nodded, accepting his friend’s argument. He pushed the cycle button on the console. The transmitter started revving up. Tremain brightened.

  "Oh, and Marcus," he began, "if you happen to find a sandwich lying about, be a good fellow and save it for me? I've been looking for it all morning!"

  Just then the cycle peaked, the light enveloped Tremain and Christopher and they were gone.

  Marcus stared at the spot where the two had been, listening to the transmitter tick as it wound down. Saying a silent prayer for them, he plopped down next to the coordinate box, picking at the cables laying around and sighed.

  POP!

  The Senator looked up alarmed. There was smoke drifting from the platform in places.

  "Oh no." Marcus groaned and stood back up. Before he could move, however there was a louder noise followed by a halting buzz. The machine went dark and silent. "Oh my Gods . . . .” Marcus gasped.

  The room around him started to go pale. He whirled around to run . . . where? In an instant the room and Marcus were gone. The swaying trees were a little thicker now. In the distance, a bird trilled its song.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The meadow was peaceful in the afternoon light. A light wind ruffled the grass as squirrels chattered and scampered around.

  Dorin led Tika up the hill to a point just before the trees thinned. They usually came here after chores, before evening meal, to be alone. On their last visit, Dorin had actually placed logs and stones around so they had a place to sit. This time, Tika brought a snack for them. Dorin carried his fishing pole and sack, in case they decided to walk past the village to the lake on their way back. Setting his things against a tree, he watched Tika as she unrolled her bundle.

  She was thin, like Dorin, but her wrap was embroidered with leaves and flowers, while his tunic and shorts were bare of adornment. Her skin was fair and her blond hair fell in natural ringlets around her face and shoulders, while Dorin was darker and swarthy. His face showed the beginning of a beard, signifying his transition to adulthood. He smiled as she unpacked rolls, sweet meats and nuts. She handed him a roll and sat next to him, wrapping her arms around his as she sat.

  “Do you like it?” she asked. He took a satisfied bite of his roll, hand made by Tika, he knew, and made a show of chewing and swallowing. She beamed as he took another small bite. Dorin, for his part, loved the attention.

  “You make the best rolls.” He said after swallowing the second bite. He reached for a portion of the sweet meat, when Tika let out a gasp of surprise. A squirrel had run onto her blanket and was heading for the food, but darted away when she moved. Dorin snorted with laughter. Tika slapped his arm.

  “Stop it, Dorin. I was startled.” She shook her head at him, her golden hair shimmering in the light. “You probably lured it with the food.”

  He shook her off and took some of the sweet meat. He chewed it thoughtfully, then said,

  “What are you going to do after the ceremony?”

  Tika, not surprised by the question as it had been on their minds recently, didn’t answer right away. Each year, when a group of children reached their fourteenth year, they underwent The Quest. The trip to the Godswall was a rite of passage. Some went and never returned. Those that did were rewarded by a night of music, dancing and feasting. Dorin looked forward to it, Tika was more timid. She’d heard the stories too.

  “I haven’t thought about it yet,” she answered truthfully, “I’m more worried about the wall.” She turned to him then, a pleading look in her eyes. “You�
�ve seen it, haven’t you?” He nodded solemnly.

  “I’ve seen it.” He said, serious. “It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before.” He spread his arms out wide. “As far as you can see, as tall as you can look, nothing but the wall.” He stared out into space, remembering. Tika shuddered. She had seen the wall too. The memory was still fresh in her mind. She was about to ask him another question when something distracted her.

  A squirrel was on the edge of the blanket, but it wasn’t interested in the food. Another squirrel appeared right beside it, and another and another. They scampered over the blanket, ignoring the food. More squirrels came after them, birds too, all flying or running away from the meadow. Tika frowned in confusion as the ground started to shake.

  It started slowly at first, a little vibration in the ground, but quickly became more violent. As the trembling increased in frequency, they heard a groaning sound, as if the soul of the earth was being ripped from the ground. The light filtering through the branches faded and went black. Tika yelped in fear and surprise, grabbing at Dorin. Wrapping her arms around him, she could feel him trembling too. The darkness was so complete, the two teenagers couldn’t even see each other.

  As suddenly as it started, the tremors ceased. The horrible groaning noise receded and light came back into the world. Birds resumed their chirping, and everything became normal again. Tika’s heart was pounding in her chest. She looked around, not sure if it was safe to move yet, when she saw it.

  A glow appeared in the meadow, small at first, then growing larger until it became a pyramid of light. It glimmered and sparkled in the field, wavered for a second or two, then slowly faded away. In its place stood two figures, one taller than the other with both wearing odd-looking clothing. Tika turned to Dorin, who was staring at the figures too.

  “Strangers” she whispered. Dorin jumped into action, gathering the blanket, food and all, and tucked it under his arm. He grabbed his fishing gear and flung his sack over his shoulder. With Tika at his heels, they ran back down the hill.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Tremain scratched his head, squinting in the bright sunlight, turning in slow circles as his eyes adjusted. Sniffing a little, he said, almost to himself,

  “Well, this is promising. There’s air to breathe,” He pinched himself and gave a little grunt, “we’re still alive, that’s always a good thing.” Walking a little bit away, he reached down and pulled up a little pinch of grass, sniffed it and tossed it away. “This is normal grass. Smells like it, at any rate.” He wiped his hand on his lab coat and walked towards the trees. Christopher, stunned by everything so far and still trying to adjust to the sunlight, followed his uncle, not making a sound.

  Tremain reached the edge of the trees, found a spot to sit and did so. He pulled his knees up and rested his head in his hands, thinking. Christopher pulled up beside him, sat and just stared into space. After a moment, he broke the silence.

  “What just happened, Uncle?” He asked, quietly, “W-we went somewhere, got back to the lab and now we’re here. What is happening?”

  Tremain didn’t answer at first, but stared straight ahead in front of him. He finally looked over at his nephew, his expression softening as he relaxed.

  “Well, where do I start?” He asked. “As near as I can tell, we . . . well, I, wiped out our entire past. Now I have to find a way to fix it.” He smiled wanly. “At least I have help.”

  Christopher shrugged.

  “Fix it how? Do you have an idea?”

  Tremain shook his head slowly.

  “Not a clue. I would rather like to see a flashing sign with Fix ME written on it boldface, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.” He ran his hands through his messy hair again. “No, I think it’s going to be a little more complicated than that.” He stared out into the meadow. “I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself, Christopher. I should have known better.” Standing, he brushed grass, dirt and fallen leaves from his pants. “I should have been more careful. We wouldn’t be in this mess if I had.” He leaned against a tree and pulled at the leaves around him.

  “How long do you think we have?” Christopher asked the question, not really wanting to hear the answer, “You know, before . . .” Tremain stopped pulling at the leaves and worked intently at the leaf in his hand, not meeting Christopher’s eyes.

  “Before we wink out too?” He said presently and shook his head, “No idea. I’m hoping we have time . . .” He chuckled to himself.

  “What’s funny?” Christopher asked. His uncle shook his head ruefully.

  “Time. It’s a funny concept, don’t you think?”

  Christopher was confused. What was his uncle going on about?

  “Time . . . TIME!” Tremain said a bit louder. “Think about it. We have all the time in the world, don’t we? Well, relatively speaking, that is.”

  Christopher, still confused, shook his head. Tremain sighed, and knelt down by his nephew, clearing away a space in the dirt. With his finger, he traced a diagram.

  “Think of it this way,” he drew a ribbon in the dirt, folding around itself in a loop. “This is time, roughly. Forward and backward it goes, well, mostly forward, always linear.” He erased a portion of it and drew the ribbon pinching in on itself. “Now here’s what we did, I believe.”

  Christopher shook his head again, not understanding. Tremain continued.

  “We didn’t travel along the ribbon just now, did we?”

  Christopher, beginning to understand, brightened a little.

  “No, we jumped across, right?”

  Tremain nodded.

  “As far as I can tell, we did jump. Well, we followed the ribbon back, but we jumped from where we were, to where we are.”

  “So, we traveled back in time?”

  Tremain, rubbed out the drawing, smacked his hands a little, and wiped them on his lab coat, leaving a telltale smear.

  “I believe we did. But where we are, and more importantly when, is the question.” He stood and laughed a little. “Time travel . . . oh, Einstein would be beside himself at that one.” Still chuckling, he walked to the edge of the trees and just looked out. “So, as near as I can tell, and I’m assuming this, we are still on New Earth.”

  “Are you sure?” Christopher asked.

  “No, I’m not definite, but, like I said, I’m assuming. If our past is totally gone, then logically, that’s the only answer that would make sense. We would be here before or directly after the Mayflower arrived.”

  “What if we’re not on New Earth?” Christopher asked in a small voice. Tremain turned to look at him, concerned.

  “If we’re not, Christopher, then that means we’re on the original Earth. I’m not sure my transmitter would work at that distance.” He thought a minute, then shook his head. “No, I can only imagine we’re still on New Earth.”

  “So what do we look for?” Christopher said, standing and brushing the dirt off the seat of his pants. He still couldn’t come to understand how they got here. Tremain ran his hands through his hair.

  “I have a few ideas, but nothing definite. I suppose we need to look for landmarks that are familiar to us. You know,” He gestured around him, “like coastlines, rock formations, that sort of thing.” He turned back to the meadow, licked his finger and held it into the air. “Not much wind, so . . .” He took a few long steps into the field and turned in a small circle, his finger still pointing in the air, stopped and pointed straight out. “We go this way.”

  With that, he took off walking, his strides long and determined. Christopher ran to catch up with him.

  “So we look for landmarks.” He gasped after catching his uncle.

  “Either that or the colonists. Although that might be difficult if we’re here before they are.”

  They kept walking. Soon the meadow gave way to trees again, with a path worn into the dirt. Tremain pointed to it. “Well, something has come this way often enough.” They followed the path into the trees.

  It meandered through t
he tree trunks, pine mostly, of various varieties, with some oak and alder mixed in. A light breeze rustled the branches. Overall, it was very peaceful. Tremain gave a relaxed sigh.

  “It is beautiful, isn’t it?” he said, taking a deep breath and letting it out all at once. “A land that exists before civilization . . .” He sighed again. Christopher wasn’t convinced.

  “Yes, before paved roads, running water or showers.”

  Tremain stopped dead and admonished his nephew.

  “Before creature comforts, yes, but if there’s a river, there’s running water.” He started down the path again, before sniffing a little and slowing. Christopher stopped and did the same.

  “Do you smell something, uncle Tremain?” Christopher didn’t smell anything himself.

  “I think I detect a wood fire, Christopher. Where there’s fire, there are people. And where there are people . . .”

  “We’ll find the colonists!” Christopher finished.

  “Exactly!” Tremain answered, pointing upwards as if in triumph. “Let’s just keep to this path, shall we? Maybe we’re closer to our problem than we think.” He moved a little slower down the path. “We might be done with this whole thing and be back home in no time.”

  The trees eventually thinned out to some sparse alders and willows and the two heard the burbling of a stream. The smell of wet weeds and mud filled the air. As the sound of water grew louder, they pushed through the closely growing willows to the embankment.

  It was a wide tributary. To the left, Tremain saw the stream making a sharp turn, the view being mostly willows. To the right was a different view altogether. Christopher could see where the tributary joined the main body of the river, the sunlight glinting off the rushing water. Tremain’s attention was caught by a wisp of smoke in the distance. He pointed and turned to his nephew.

  “See? There must be people over there.”