I felt the tug of the Earth's gravity on my feet, and then I looked around.
The first thing I noticed was there was not that much light. There was no wind, and there was this light smell.
As my eyes focused, I was looking upon a pretty young woman with long brown hair. she was wearing a T-shirt with the word "Stanford" stenciled on it. I noted that the young lady was sitting on the lap of a young Chinese man who did not look any older than she did.
"Who are you?" asked the young lady.
I looked around, and saw a bunch of young people sitting on couches and stuff. There was a bong on a coffee table, which is where the odor was coming from. There was a ceiling fan spinning overhead.
"Hey, who are you?" asked one of the young men in the room. "How did you get here?"
"I have to go now," I said. I looked around the room for an exit, and then I saw a wooden staircase. I immediately walked up the staircase and entered a dark room.
I went to the kitchen, where I can see the time display on a microwave oven. The time was 2:15. Judging from how dark it was outside, it was 2:15 in the morning!
The library would not be open at this time, so I went out through the front door.
I emerged onto a residential street, which was lit by street lamps. Above in the sky I could see some stars as well as the lights of a moving airplane. The air was a little chilly, I guess around sixty degrees or so. I wish I had brought a jacket.
After walking for a few minutes, I saw the sign for a Vons supermarket. Hopefully, this world, if it was home, had telephone books. I made my way to the parking lot of Vons. the supermarket was still lit; I could tell the place was closed and there were less than a handful of cars parked in the lot.
There was a Pacific Bell public telephone standing against the wall of the supermarket. The telephone book was still there! Looking through the pages, I found out that I was in San Francisco, California. Apparently I had not only traversed dimensions, but crossed the Atlantic Ocean! I looked through the listings of the white pages to find a Michael or an Elizabeth Mallory. I found a listing for an M Mallory; maybe Dad only used his first initial in the phone book. Well, I could not call that number now.
I walked along the streets of San Francisco, until I reached a familiar place-Golden Gate Park. There was lamps lighting the concrete walkways of the park. I continued walking until I reached the statue.
The statue was granite, and it was a representation of a man in a suit wearing a crown on his head. a plaque identified the statue as being in the likeness of King Samuel.
Well, there was nothing else to do but to go to sleep. In the morning, I intended to call this M Mallory to see if my dad was the one living here.
Marc LeBeau contacted me as I was dreaming.
"Am I home?" I asked.
"Define home," replied LeBeau.
"Is this the world where I was born?"
"Yes. And your parents are alive and well on this world. They are still happily married."
"They must miss me. Listen, can you contact them and tell them I am alive and I've returned home?"
"I can not. I can only communicate with certain people, like you and Max Arturo and that young lady who was a fellow patient of yours at Gate Haven."
And then he was gone.
I woke up at around sunrise. I could tell the air was getting warmer already. I looked at the statue of King Samuel.
I went to the nearest public phone. I would have to call collect, since I did not have the local currency with me.
I dialed 0 for the operator. The Pacific Bell operator answered, and I told her I wanted to make a collect call for M Mallory's number. I told her my name was Colin Mallory, and I wished to speak with Michael or Elizabeth Mallory.
"I'm sorry, there is no one there by the name of Michael or Elizabeth," said the operator.
"Okay," I said.
First things first; I had to get to the public library to do research. So I did.
The library near the Golden Gate Park was huge, with shelves full of books. A directory informed me there was at least three stories. There were some computer terminals. From what my parents told me via the microdot, there was a war on this world between humans and kromaggs, so I entered a keyword search into kromaggs.
And there were plenty of books and newspaper and magazine articles written about kromaggs, and some titles referenced a war between humans and kromaggs. So I conducted another search for history books relating to the last war between the humans and kromaggs. I made sure to record the location of the book. Then, as an afterthought, I did a keyword search into parallel universes. Once again, I received several hits, including several entries about travel between parallel universes. I finally did a keyword search on a slidecage; I figured the slidecage would be public knowledge since it would inhibit travel between parallel universes. As it turned out, there were several magazine articles referring to a slidecage; the earliest one was in August of 1977.
I went over to the bookshelf where the book about the last human-kromagg war was located. I took the book from the bookshelf and started reading through it.
The roots of the war lay thousands of years ago when human from Siberia migrated to Alaska and then migrated southward. It was in North America where they first encountered kromaggs, and conflict ensued. Over the millenia, the humans and kromaggs fought for territorial control. sometimes the humans were pushed back as far north as the Yukon, and sometimes the kromaggs were pushed as far south as the Isthmus of Panama.
It was the arrival of humans from Europe in 1348 that changed the balance of power. The diseases they brought wiped out most of the western humans. But then they turned on the kromagg nations, even invading South America. Rivalries between Britian and Spain prevented an all-out human domination of the western hemisphere, as rivarlies among the kromagg nations precented them from driving the humans out of the western hemisphere.
It was in the 1960's when five powerful kromagg nations, led by the Kingdom of Beruth, formed an alliance. One of their goals was to ensure kromagg domination of the western continents. The war started with bombing raids against San Diego and Jacksonville on February 6, 1970, an event King George of the United States described as a day that would live in infamy. The kromagg nations were expecting the United States to fall in a matter of weeks, but the Americans rallied, and were spoon joined by other nations.
In November of 1974, King George died, and King Leonard succeeded to the throne. King Leonard, in his first address to Congress, promised a swift end to the war. In 1975, Beruthese marine troops landed on the banks of the Potomac River to seize Alberton, the American capital. It was in that battle that the Voraton KR-17 was first deployed. Most of the kromaggs were killed by the weapon, and the remainder was slaughtered in combat with U.S. marines.
The Voraton KR-17 was under development at Fort Detrick. The scientist in charge was none other than my own mother, Elizabeth Mallory.
The Voraton devices were used to drive the kromagg invaders from the U.S. Within months, the Kromagg Alliance was in full retreat. It was on June 11, 1975 that King Leonard ordered that the weapon be used against the enemy's homeland. U.S. Navy warships began the attack. Casualties were estimated in the millions. The kromaggs thus fled to a parallel universe.
I closed the book. The history of this world was consistent with the message in the microdot.
I decided to browse the world wide web. There were five Internet terminals; a sign read that Internet usage is limited to thirty minutes if anyone is waiting in line. No one was waiting in line, and I did not intend to browse the Internet for long, so I checked the 411.com web site.
As it turned out, there were over a hundred listings for Michael or Elizabeth Mallory in the United States. I limited the search to California, and there were twenty listings for Michael or Elizabeth Mallory. Of course, I was assuming that my parents' phone number or address was listed. Being government scientists who developed the weapon that drove the kromaggs from this world, I would not be surprised if their telephone number was unlisted.
I decided to go to the Google web site to search for the slidecage. The first web site listed was an Air Force web site. The address was http://www.cheyennemountain.af.mil/slidecage/about.html. So I clicked on the link.
The slidecage is a protective barrier encompassing the entire Earth which redirects wormholes to another dimension. an international committee composed of military officers from six nations controls the slidecage. The U.S. Air Force provides the personnel to operate and monitor the slidecage, and the slidecage control is located in the Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station. The slidecage first went online on September 11, 1977.
I clicked on another link to learn more about Cheyenne Mountain. The facility is an underground bunker located under Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado, not far from the city of Colorado Springs. Aside from Slidecage Control, it is also home to the U.S. Strategic Command, the Air Warning Operations Center, the Extradimensional Operations Center, and the Missile Control Center.
If my parents are still working for the Department of Defense, then they might be living in Colorado now. I did more research, and I found out that Colorado Springs is a long way from San Francisco.
I went back to the 411.com web site to search for Michael or Elizabeth Mallory within twenty-five miles of Colorado Springs, Colorado. The search took less thasn two seconds.
There were no listings. None at all! So my parents are unlisted.
I was so near, and yet so far.
I did a search for a Quinn or a Colin Mallory; there was no mention of either of them. This still confirmed that I was home; there would be no duplicate of me or Quinn running around at home.
It was clear where I had to go. I had to get to Colorado Springs. I searched the library for a road atlas of the United States. As it turned out, Colorado Springs was located where Interstate 25 and U.S. 24 meet, just south of Denver.
I had no local currency to pay for an airplane, bus, or train ticket, so there was only one way to get to Colorado Springs.
I had to hitchhike there.
According to the road atlas, I would have to get on Interstate 80 across California and Nevada to Salt Lake City in Utah. Then I would have to travel south on Interstate 15 until I could reach the junction with Interstate 70, then head east to Denver and then head south on Interstate 25 to Colorado Springs.
I took a deep breath. I had a long journey ahead of me which would take at least a day.
I left the library and started walking.
After walking through the streets of San Francisco, I reached the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge. I walked along the side of the road sticking my thumb out for a ride. My feet were already tired by the time I was walking above San Francisco Bay. There was heavy traffic on the bridge though.
A huge tractor trailer pulled over, and the passenger side door rolled down.
"Excuse me," said the trucker. "you want a ride?"
"Uh, where are you headed?" I asked.
"I'm headed to Reno."
From what I remembered, Reno was along the way. "Okay," I said. "I'll hop aboard."
I got into the passenger's seat of the tractor. The driver was a woman in her mid-thirties.
"Where are you headed?" she asked.
"Colorado Springs. I'm trying to find my parents. Listen, do you know much of the last war between the humans and the kromaggs."
"My daddy was killed in that war," said the truck driver. "He was stationed at the naval station in San Diego when the maggs attacked."
It took a good twenty minutes to cross the bridge; then the truck was heading eastbound on Interstate 80. We passed through Sacramento, Auburn, and then went up into the Sierra Nevada Mountains. After passing the Fremont Summit near Lake Tahoe, the truck descended on a downhill grade. I saw a sign marking the Nevada state line.
Then, after hours of driving, the truck driver exited. We were in Reno.
the truck stopped at a truck stop just a block from the freeway.
"I'm sure there will be someone heading toward Salt Lake willing to give you a ride," said the trucker. "Well, I have to make my delivery."
"Gooodbye," I said. "May the Lord bless you."
I had to use the restroom, so I went into the truck stop and entered the men's room. It was not exactly clean, but then I never been in a world where restrooms at truck stops were clean. I looked in the mirror; I could see that I was a mess. I was also very hungry; I have not eaten since I had breakfast at Buckingham Palace in London a world ago.
I was living in luxury there for three days, and now I was reduced to taking rides from strangers to get from San Francisco to Colorado Springs, on the hunch that my parents might be living somewhere in that city.
I went out of the restroom. There was a small diner in the truck stop. The only money I had was in British pounds, and I doubt British currency was accepted in this place.
I approached the man at the counter.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"I'd like a job," I said.
"We ain't hirin'."
"Well, I'm trying to get to Colorado Springs to meet my parents and I'd like money for a bus ticket as well as some food. I can wash dishes."
"We serve fast food. We don't have dishes to wash."
"Your restroom is dirty. Could I at least clean it in exchange for a burger and a Coke and some change?"
"Ain't no customer come to me complainin' about the restroom; why would I hire someone to clean the restroom?"
"Well, then, I guess I don't want anything."
So I left the truck stop.
I headed back to Interstate 80, sticking my thumb out for a ride. My feet were getting very tired. I wondered why I even bothered to come here. I could have stayed in London in the last world, and helped King Harold and Dr. Arturo build a new government and live in relative luxury.
That was in the past. I have endured many hardships in two years of sliding; luxury and comfort were the exception, not the rule. I was finally in the right world. I thought about all I have been through the past two years since I decided to join my brother, and for the past year since I became unstuck and was separated from him. I could go back to the previous world's London to live a comfortable life. But that was the past. If I were to go back, everything I endured for the past two years would have been for nothing. I had to return to my birth parents. They could provide the weapon needed to drive the kromaggs from Rembrandt's home world, and they might even be able to find Quinn.
I finnaly sat down at the side of the freeway, staring at the headlights as the sun was setting.
Then I saw a Ford F-150 pickup truck pull over. The driver got out of the vehicle.
"you okay?" he asked.
"I'm trying to get to Colorado Springs," i said. "Are you headed there?"
"No."
"Will you be headed for Salt Lake City?"
"Yeah."
"I'd like a ride."
"Okay, but I am armed, and I won't hesitate to shoot you if you try to rob me."
So I climbed inot the bed of the Ford pickup truck and we headed east on Interstate 80 towards Salt Lake City. I looked around, noticing the stars appearing in the sky as well as the shadowy outlines of the mountains. I even fell asleep.
I woke upo hearing the man's voice. "We're here," he said.
"So this is Salt Lake City," I said.
I looekd around and saw a bunch of storefronts; I could see a liquor store and a bar.
"You have money for a motel?" asked the truck's driver.
"No," I replied.
"There's a homeless shelter over there. You could sleep there."
"Thank you, and may the Lord bless you," i said to him.
So I headed intoi a homeless shelter. Normally I did not stay in homeless shelters, but now was not the time to settle in and get a job. There were a bunch of homeless people sleeping already.
"Excuse me," said a security guard. "Are you here to stay?"
"Well, I'm spedning the night here," I said. "I'm broke and I'm trying to find where my parents are. I think they're in Colorado Springs."
"Well, sign in here."
So I signed a sheet. "Is there anything to eat?"
"Well, dinner was served hours ago. I can get you some crackers and some water."
And so the guard got me crackers and water. I was definitely grateful. It did relieve my hunger a bit. Then I went to sleep.
The next morning was breakfast call. I woke up and breakfast was already being prepared in the kitchen. Breakfast consisted of pancakes and eggs and toast, which was cheap. The homeless who slept in here did the work, whether it was making meals or cleaning the place. I decided to volunteer for cooking breakfast. After all, this was my world, and so these would be my people.
After serving food to some of thew homeless people, I decided to cook myself some scrambled eggs. After I prepared my meal, I sat down and ate my breakfast.
"You new here?" I heard an old man ask. I turned and saw this old Negro man; he looked old enough to have served in the war.
"Yeah," I replied. "My adoptive family died when I was a boy, and I started to move around doing odd jobs. I got a lead on where my birth parents live."
"So why you here?" he asked.
"Well, I don't have any useful money, and I'm hitchhiking my way to Colorado Springs. I'll get a job there and find a place to stay and hopefully I can find my parents."
"You think they want to hear from you? I mean, they gave you up for adoption; have you even spoken to them? Do you even know if they're still alive?"
"They had me stay with another family back in 1974, during the war. My adoptive parents died before the war was over, so my birth parents could not find me. I had no idea I was adopted until I met my brother Quinn, and we traveled around looking for our birth parents. But we got separated last year, and I haven't found him."
"Are you going to look for him after you find your parents?"
"Of course."
"What are your parents' names?"
"Michael and Elizabeth Mallory. They invented the Voraton."
"I remember what that was. I was in the war. I was a private in the Marines. I fought in the Battle of Alberton, when the maggs were rushing in. They were only blocks from the castle when they started dropping dead. When I was in the hospital recovering from my wounds, I heard it was due to this Voraton thing. I later got a Purple Heart."
"So why are you homeless now?" I asked.
"I fell on hard times. So what is your name, by the way?"
"My name is Colin. Colin Mallory."
"Blair. Todd Blair."
"Well, Mr. Blair, it was nice meeting you. I must go home now. I won't forget you."
I left the homeless shelter and walked along the sides of the streets of Salt Lake City. After going to a Chevron gas station, I browsed a map of Salt Lake City. Using the information on the map, I walked until I reached a southbound onramp for Interstate 15.
Soon I was walking along Interstate 15, sticking my thumb out for a ride. I met a trucker heading for Las Vegas; he offered to drop me off at a truck stop near the junction with Interstate 70. After a few hours, he did just that. There was not much point in going into the diner, since I had no money, so I headed east on Interstate 70. After walking east on Interstate 70 for a few hours, a truck pulls over, transporting cars.
"Where you headed?' asked the truck driver.
"Colorado Springs," I replied.
"Well, it just so happens I'm transporting these cars to a Ford dealership in Colorado Springs. You can even ride inside one of the cars; they're unlocked."
So that is what I did; I hopped inside the driver's seat of a black Ford Mustang. Of course, without the Mustang's keys, I couikld not turn on the car radio. I slept along the way; I did notice signs indicating the distance to Denver.
Soon I realized that we were now traveling south on Interstate 25. Minutes later, i saw a sign showing the distance to Colorado Springs. I was almost there.
Finally, the truck took an exit and then parked at a truck stop near Interstate 25. The driver approached me.
"We're here," he said as I opened the door of the Mustang. "We're now in Colorado Springs. You should be able to take the bus or a cab to wherever you want to go."
"Thanks," I said. "May the Lord bless you."
I went over to a public telephone where there was a phone book. I looked through the white pages.
There was no listing of a Michael or an Elizabeth Mallory. I figured they would be unlisted even in the local phone book.
I went inside the truck stop's mini mart to look through a map of the area. I noted the locations of City hall, as well as the United States Air Force Academy and Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station.
But what was I to do? Was I supposed to go house to house, asking if Michael and Elizabeth Mallory lived there? Colorado Springs was not as populated as San Francisco, but there will still a lot of houses to search. I could not give up after two years of searching.
Then I remembered. I did not know where my parents live, but I knew where they worked. They worked in Cheyenne Mountain. I was sure of that. If I were to find my parents, I would have to head to Cheyenne Mountain.
With renewed determination, I set out to go to Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station.
Hours later, I was exhausted. Night had fallen; this was my second night on this version of Earth. My shoes were about to wear out. I was hungry and thirsty and alone. I had to keep going. I had to meet my birth parents.
Finally, I saw a gate and I walked up to it. There was a sign on the gatehouse reading, "ALL VEHICLES SUBJECT TO SEARCH". Past the gate was the entrance to a tunnel; that must be the Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station.
"Halt!" shouted one of the guards. "Who goes there?"
"Excuse me," I said, clearly exhausted. "I'm Colin Mallory, and I'm here to see Michael and Elizabeth Mallory. I heard they work here."
"Visitors are not accepted unless they are sent here by royal order," said the guard. "You must turn back now."
It was dark, and my parents are probably home now. I could camp on the side of the road and wait until they come to work.
Or I could simply hop over the gate and head into the place, and that was what I did.
"Not another step or I'll zap you!" shouted the guard.
I then saw a police car come out of the tunnel entrance, and some more guards came out.
"You are under arrest," said the officer in charge of these guards.
I was immedaitely taken inside the Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station. I glanced at the concrete walls and floor of the tunnels which were part of the facility until I reached the cell block.
I was fingerprinted and eyescanned and they even took a swab out of my mouth. and then I was put into a cell. Forutantely, the guards served me dinner, which was beef and boiled potatoes. I quickly ate it, hungry as I was.
The cot in the bed was very comfortable. Before I drifted off to sleep, I remembered thinking what hell this homecoming was.
The next morning I woke up, and the Air Force guards served breakfast, which was scrambled eggs and bacon and orange juice-the same breakfast I had back in Salt Lake City. I went to the restroom and looked at myself in the mirror; hairs were alrteady growing above my lip and on my chin. I was truly a mess.
"We're going to question you," said the guard.
I was put into this small room where there was a table and two chairs. Minutes later, a U.S. Air Force captain entered, dressed in a blue dress uniform. A nametag read "SHAYS".
"Captain Shays, U.S. Air Force Security Police," he said. "You've been accused of trespassing on military property-a federal offense. You are, of course, entitled to remain silent and to have an attorney. If you wish to refuse to answer our questions, we will simply turn you over to the U.S. marshals. If you answer our questions, we may be able to get a lenient sentence for you. Tell me your name."
"My name is Colin Mallory," I said. "But you must know that from the fingerprint and retinal scan as well as that swab which I guess was for DNA testing."
"Yes," replied the captain. "We matched you to a Colin Mallory, who was reported missing since the war with the kromaggs. Why did you come here."
"To find my parents." I explained to him how I grew up in a parallel universe, and how I met my brother Quinn, and how the mircodot I found in my adoptive mother's locket told me of my true heritage, and how for the past two years, i was trying to get to my parents.
"That is enough," said Captain Shays. Minutes later, a guard escorted me to the cell.
Minutes later, I heard footsteps enter the cell block.
"So that's him," I heard a voice. say.
I recognized that voice. That was Rembrandt Brown!
"Remmy!" I shouted as I looked at him.
"You seem to know me," he said.
I looked at him, and noticed he was wearing an Air Force dress uniform, with the colonel's rank insignia on the shoulders. This man was my world's version of Rembrandt Brown.
"Well, I met someone like you," I said. "Listen, can I talk to Michael or Elizabeth Mallory?"
"Cuff him," said Colonel Brown.
Two of the guards slapped handcuffs on me and bent me over. I felt a dry heat on the back of my neck.
"Welcome home, son," I heard a male voice say.
I turned, and I looked straight at Michael and Elizabeth Mallory.
"Mom?" i asked. "Dad?"
The guards unlocked my handcuff. I went up to them and hugged them.
"Colin," said Mom. "We never thought you'd come back."
"I'm so glad to see you," said Dad.
"I've waited two years for this," I said.
"We've waited twenty-six," said Mom. "When we returned to get you, we were told you were dead. Now you're alive!"
I was home. At long last, I was home.
The first thing I noticed was there was not that much light. There was no wind, and there was this light smell.
As my eyes focused, I was looking upon a pretty young woman with long brown hair. she was wearing a T-shirt with the word "Stanford" stenciled on it. I noted that the young lady was sitting on the lap of a young Chinese man who did not look any older than she did.
"Who are you?" asked the young lady.
I looked around, and saw a bunch of young people sitting on couches and stuff. There was a bong on a coffee table, which is where the odor was coming from. There was a ceiling fan spinning overhead.
"Hey, who are you?" asked one of the young men in the room. "How did you get here?"
"I have to go now," I said. I looked around the room for an exit, and then I saw a wooden staircase. I immediately walked up the staircase and entered a dark room.
I went to the kitchen, where I can see the time display on a microwave oven. The time was 2:15. Judging from how dark it was outside, it was 2:15 in the morning!
The library would not be open at this time, so I went out through the front door.
I emerged onto a residential street, which was lit by street lamps. Above in the sky I could see some stars as well as the lights of a moving airplane. The air was a little chilly, I guess around sixty degrees or so. I wish I had brought a jacket.
After walking for a few minutes, I saw the sign for a Vons supermarket. Hopefully, this world, if it was home, had telephone books. I made my way to the parking lot of Vons. the supermarket was still lit; I could tell the place was closed and there were less than a handful of cars parked in the lot.
There was a Pacific Bell public telephone standing against the wall of the supermarket. The telephone book was still there! Looking through the pages, I found out that I was in San Francisco, California. Apparently I had not only traversed dimensions, but crossed the Atlantic Ocean! I looked through the listings of the white pages to find a Michael or an Elizabeth Mallory. I found a listing for an M Mallory; maybe Dad only used his first initial in the phone book. Well, I could not call that number now.
I walked along the streets of San Francisco, until I reached a familiar place-Golden Gate Park. There was lamps lighting the concrete walkways of the park. I continued walking until I reached the statue.
The statue was granite, and it was a representation of a man in a suit wearing a crown on his head. a plaque identified the statue as being in the likeness of King Samuel.
Well, there was nothing else to do but to go to sleep. In the morning, I intended to call this M Mallory to see if my dad was the one living here.
Marc LeBeau contacted me as I was dreaming.
"Am I home?" I asked.
"Define home," replied LeBeau.
"Is this the world where I was born?"
"Yes. And your parents are alive and well on this world. They are still happily married."
"They must miss me. Listen, can you contact them and tell them I am alive and I've returned home?"
"I can not. I can only communicate with certain people, like you and Max Arturo and that young lady who was a fellow patient of yours at Gate Haven."
And then he was gone.
I woke up at around sunrise. I could tell the air was getting warmer already. I looked at the statue of King Samuel.
I went to the nearest public phone. I would have to call collect, since I did not have the local currency with me.
I dialed 0 for the operator. The Pacific Bell operator answered, and I told her I wanted to make a collect call for M Mallory's number. I told her my name was Colin Mallory, and I wished to speak with Michael or Elizabeth Mallory.
"I'm sorry, there is no one there by the name of Michael or Elizabeth," said the operator.
"Okay," I said.
First things first; I had to get to the public library to do research. So I did.
The library near the Golden Gate Park was huge, with shelves full of books. A directory informed me there was at least three stories. There were some computer terminals. From what my parents told me via the microdot, there was a war on this world between humans and kromaggs, so I entered a keyword search into kromaggs.
And there were plenty of books and newspaper and magazine articles written about kromaggs, and some titles referenced a war between humans and kromaggs. So I conducted another search for history books relating to the last war between the humans and kromaggs. I made sure to record the location of the book. Then, as an afterthought, I did a keyword search into parallel universes. Once again, I received several hits, including several entries about travel between parallel universes. I finally did a keyword search on a slidecage; I figured the slidecage would be public knowledge since it would inhibit travel between parallel universes. As it turned out, there were several magazine articles referring to a slidecage; the earliest one was in August of 1977.
I went over to the bookshelf where the book about the last human-kromagg war was located. I took the book from the bookshelf and started reading through it.
The roots of the war lay thousands of years ago when human from Siberia migrated to Alaska and then migrated southward. It was in North America where they first encountered kromaggs, and conflict ensued. Over the millenia, the humans and kromaggs fought for territorial control. sometimes the humans were pushed back as far north as the Yukon, and sometimes the kromaggs were pushed as far south as the Isthmus of Panama.
It was the arrival of humans from Europe in 1348 that changed the balance of power. The diseases they brought wiped out most of the western humans. But then they turned on the kromagg nations, even invading South America. Rivalries between Britian and Spain prevented an all-out human domination of the western hemisphere, as rivarlies among the kromagg nations precented them from driving the humans out of the western hemisphere.
It was in the 1960's when five powerful kromagg nations, led by the Kingdom of Beruth, formed an alliance. One of their goals was to ensure kromagg domination of the western continents. The war started with bombing raids against San Diego and Jacksonville on February 6, 1970, an event King George of the United States described as a day that would live in infamy. The kromagg nations were expecting the United States to fall in a matter of weeks, but the Americans rallied, and were spoon joined by other nations.
In November of 1974, King George died, and King Leonard succeeded to the throne. King Leonard, in his first address to Congress, promised a swift end to the war. In 1975, Beruthese marine troops landed on the banks of the Potomac River to seize Alberton, the American capital. It was in that battle that the Voraton KR-17 was first deployed. Most of the kromaggs were killed by the weapon, and the remainder was slaughtered in combat with U.S. marines.
The Voraton KR-17 was under development at Fort Detrick. The scientist in charge was none other than my own mother, Elizabeth Mallory.
The Voraton devices were used to drive the kromagg invaders from the U.S. Within months, the Kromagg Alliance was in full retreat. It was on June 11, 1975 that King Leonard ordered that the weapon be used against the enemy's homeland. U.S. Navy warships began the attack. Casualties were estimated in the millions. The kromaggs thus fled to a parallel universe.
I closed the book. The history of this world was consistent with the message in the microdot.
I decided to browse the world wide web. There were five Internet terminals; a sign read that Internet usage is limited to thirty minutes if anyone is waiting in line. No one was waiting in line, and I did not intend to browse the Internet for long, so I checked the 411.com web site.
As it turned out, there were over a hundred listings for Michael or Elizabeth Mallory in the United States. I limited the search to California, and there were twenty listings for Michael or Elizabeth Mallory. Of course, I was assuming that my parents' phone number or address was listed. Being government scientists who developed the weapon that drove the kromaggs from this world, I would not be surprised if their telephone number was unlisted.
I decided to go to the Google web site to search for the slidecage. The first web site listed was an Air Force web site. The address was http://www.cheyennemountain.af.mil/slidecage/about.html. So I clicked on the link.
The slidecage is a protective barrier encompassing the entire Earth which redirects wormholes to another dimension. an international committee composed of military officers from six nations controls the slidecage. The U.S. Air Force provides the personnel to operate and monitor the slidecage, and the slidecage control is located in the Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station. The slidecage first went online on September 11, 1977.
I clicked on another link to learn more about Cheyenne Mountain. The facility is an underground bunker located under Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado, not far from the city of Colorado Springs. Aside from Slidecage Control, it is also home to the U.S. Strategic Command, the Air Warning Operations Center, the Extradimensional Operations Center, and the Missile Control Center.
If my parents are still working for the Department of Defense, then they might be living in Colorado now. I did more research, and I found out that Colorado Springs is a long way from San Francisco.
I went back to the 411.com web site to search for Michael or Elizabeth Mallory within twenty-five miles of Colorado Springs, Colorado. The search took less thasn two seconds.
There were no listings. None at all! So my parents are unlisted.
I was so near, and yet so far.
I did a search for a Quinn or a Colin Mallory; there was no mention of either of them. This still confirmed that I was home; there would be no duplicate of me or Quinn running around at home.
It was clear where I had to go. I had to get to Colorado Springs. I searched the library for a road atlas of the United States. As it turned out, Colorado Springs was located where Interstate 25 and U.S. 24 meet, just south of Denver.
I had no local currency to pay for an airplane, bus, or train ticket, so there was only one way to get to Colorado Springs.
I had to hitchhike there.
According to the road atlas, I would have to get on Interstate 80 across California and Nevada to Salt Lake City in Utah. Then I would have to travel south on Interstate 15 until I could reach the junction with Interstate 70, then head east to Denver and then head south on Interstate 25 to Colorado Springs.
I took a deep breath. I had a long journey ahead of me which would take at least a day.
I left the library and started walking.
After walking through the streets of San Francisco, I reached the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge. I walked along the side of the road sticking my thumb out for a ride. My feet were already tired by the time I was walking above San Francisco Bay. There was heavy traffic on the bridge though.
A huge tractor trailer pulled over, and the passenger side door rolled down.
"Excuse me," said the trucker. "you want a ride?"
"Uh, where are you headed?" I asked.
"I'm headed to Reno."
From what I remembered, Reno was along the way. "Okay," I said. "I'll hop aboard."
I got into the passenger's seat of the tractor. The driver was a woman in her mid-thirties.
"Where are you headed?" she asked.
"Colorado Springs. I'm trying to find my parents. Listen, do you know much of the last war between the humans and the kromaggs."
"My daddy was killed in that war," said the truck driver. "He was stationed at the naval station in San Diego when the maggs attacked."
It took a good twenty minutes to cross the bridge; then the truck was heading eastbound on Interstate 80. We passed through Sacramento, Auburn, and then went up into the Sierra Nevada Mountains. After passing the Fremont Summit near Lake Tahoe, the truck descended on a downhill grade. I saw a sign marking the Nevada state line.
Then, after hours of driving, the truck driver exited. We were in Reno.
the truck stopped at a truck stop just a block from the freeway.
"I'm sure there will be someone heading toward Salt Lake willing to give you a ride," said the trucker. "Well, I have to make my delivery."
"Gooodbye," I said. "May the Lord bless you."
I had to use the restroom, so I went into the truck stop and entered the men's room. It was not exactly clean, but then I never been in a world where restrooms at truck stops were clean. I looked in the mirror; I could see that I was a mess. I was also very hungry; I have not eaten since I had breakfast at Buckingham Palace in London a world ago.
I was living in luxury there for three days, and now I was reduced to taking rides from strangers to get from San Francisco to Colorado Springs, on the hunch that my parents might be living somewhere in that city.
I went out of the restroom. There was a small diner in the truck stop. The only money I had was in British pounds, and I doubt British currency was accepted in this place.
I approached the man at the counter.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"I'd like a job," I said.
"We ain't hirin'."
"Well, I'm trying to get to Colorado Springs to meet my parents and I'd like money for a bus ticket as well as some food. I can wash dishes."
"We serve fast food. We don't have dishes to wash."
"Your restroom is dirty. Could I at least clean it in exchange for a burger and a Coke and some change?"
"Ain't no customer come to me complainin' about the restroom; why would I hire someone to clean the restroom?"
"Well, then, I guess I don't want anything."
So I left the truck stop.
I headed back to Interstate 80, sticking my thumb out for a ride. My feet were getting very tired. I wondered why I even bothered to come here. I could have stayed in London in the last world, and helped King Harold and Dr. Arturo build a new government and live in relative luxury.
That was in the past. I have endured many hardships in two years of sliding; luxury and comfort were the exception, not the rule. I was finally in the right world. I thought about all I have been through the past two years since I decided to join my brother, and for the past year since I became unstuck and was separated from him. I could go back to the previous world's London to live a comfortable life. But that was the past. If I were to go back, everything I endured for the past two years would have been for nothing. I had to return to my birth parents. They could provide the weapon needed to drive the kromaggs from Rembrandt's home world, and they might even be able to find Quinn.
I finnaly sat down at the side of the freeway, staring at the headlights as the sun was setting.
Then I saw a Ford F-150 pickup truck pull over. The driver got out of the vehicle.
"you okay?" he asked.
"I'm trying to get to Colorado Springs," i said. "Are you headed there?"
"No."
"Will you be headed for Salt Lake City?"
"Yeah."
"I'd like a ride."
"Okay, but I am armed, and I won't hesitate to shoot you if you try to rob me."
So I climbed inot the bed of the Ford pickup truck and we headed east on Interstate 80 towards Salt Lake City. I looked around, noticing the stars appearing in the sky as well as the shadowy outlines of the mountains. I even fell asleep.
I woke upo hearing the man's voice. "We're here," he said.
"So this is Salt Lake City," I said.
I looekd around and saw a bunch of storefronts; I could see a liquor store and a bar.
"You have money for a motel?" asked the truck's driver.
"No," I replied.
"There's a homeless shelter over there. You could sleep there."
"Thank you, and may the Lord bless you," i said to him.
So I headed intoi a homeless shelter. Normally I did not stay in homeless shelters, but now was not the time to settle in and get a job. There were a bunch of homeless people sleeping already.
"Excuse me," said a security guard. "Are you here to stay?"
"Well, I'm spedning the night here," I said. "I'm broke and I'm trying to find where my parents are. I think they're in Colorado Springs."
"Well, sign in here."
So I signed a sheet. "Is there anything to eat?"
"Well, dinner was served hours ago. I can get you some crackers and some water."
And so the guard got me crackers and water. I was definitely grateful. It did relieve my hunger a bit. Then I went to sleep.
The next morning was breakfast call. I woke up and breakfast was already being prepared in the kitchen. Breakfast consisted of pancakes and eggs and toast, which was cheap. The homeless who slept in here did the work, whether it was making meals or cleaning the place. I decided to volunteer for cooking breakfast. After all, this was my world, and so these would be my people.
After serving food to some of thew homeless people, I decided to cook myself some scrambled eggs. After I prepared my meal, I sat down and ate my breakfast.
"You new here?" I heard an old man ask. I turned and saw this old Negro man; he looked old enough to have served in the war.
"Yeah," I replied. "My adoptive family died when I was a boy, and I started to move around doing odd jobs. I got a lead on where my birth parents live."
"So why you here?" he asked.
"Well, I don't have any useful money, and I'm hitchhiking my way to Colorado Springs. I'll get a job there and find a place to stay and hopefully I can find my parents."
"You think they want to hear from you? I mean, they gave you up for adoption; have you even spoken to them? Do you even know if they're still alive?"
"They had me stay with another family back in 1974, during the war. My adoptive parents died before the war was over, so my birth parents could not find me. I had no idea I was adopted until I met my brother Quinn, and we traveled around looking for our birth parents. But we got separated last year, and I haven't found him."
"Are you going to look for him after you find your parents?"
"Of course."
"What are your parents' names?"
"Michael and Elizabeth Mallory. They invented the Voraton."
"I remember what that was. I was in the war. I was a private in the Marines. I fought in the Battle of Alberton, when the maggs were rushing in. They were only blocks from the castle when they started dropping dead. When I was in the hospital recovering from my wounds, I heard it was due to this Voraton thing. I later got a Purple Heart."
"So why are you homeless now?" I asked.
"I fell on hard times. So what is your name, by the way?"
"My name is Colin. Colin Mallory."
"Blair. Todd Blair."
"Well, Mr. Blair, it was nice meeting you. I must go home now. I won't forget you."
I left the homeless shelter and walked along the sides of the streets of Salt Lake City. After going to a Chevron gas station, I browsed a map of Salt Lake City. Using the information on the map, I walked until I reached a southbound onramp for Interstate 15.
Soon I was walking along Interstate 15, sticking my thumb out for a ride. I met a trucker heading for Las Vegas; he offered to drop me off at a truck stop near the junction with Interstate 70. After a few hours, he did just that. There was not much point in going into the diner, since I had no money, so I headed east on Interstate 70. After walking east on Interstate 70 for a few hours, a truck pulls over, transporting cars.
"Where you headed?' asked the truck driver.
"Colorado Springs," I replied.
"Well, it just so happens I'm transporting these cars to a Ford dealership in Colorado Springs. You can even ride inside one of the cars; they're unlocked."
So that is what I did; I hopped inside the driver's seat of a black Ford Mustang. Of course, without the Mustang's keys, I couikld not turn on the car radio. I slept along the way; I did notice signs indicating the distance to Denver.
Soon I realized that we were now traveling south on Interstate 25. Minutes later, i saw a sign showing the distance to Colorado Springs. I was almost there.
Finally, the truck took an exit and then parked at a truck stop near Interstate 25. The driver approached me.
"We're here," he said as I opened the door of the Mustang. "We're now in Colorado Springs. You should be able to take the bus or a cab to wherever you want to go."
"Thanks," I said. "May the Lord bless you."
I went over to a public telephone where there was a phone book. I looked through the white pages.
There was no listing of a Michael or an Elizabeth Mallory. I figured they would be unlisted even in the local phone book.
I went inside the truck stop's mini mart to look through a map of the area. I noted the locations of City hall, as well as the United States Air Force Academy and Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station.
But what was I to do? Was I supposed to go house to house, asking if Michael and Elizabeth Mallory lived there? Colorado Springs was not as populated as San Francisco, but there will still a lot of houses to search. I could not give up after two years of searching.
Then I remembered. I did not know where my parents live, but I knew where they worked. They worked in Cheyenne Mountain. I was sure of that. If I were to find my parents, I would have to head to Cheyenne Mountain.
With renewed determination, I set out to go to Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station.
Hours later, I was exhausted. Night had fallen; this was my second night on this version of Earth. My shoes were about to wear out. I was hungry and thirsty and alone. I had to keep going. I had to meet my birth parents.
Finally, I saw a gate and I walked up to it. There was a sign on the gatehouse reading, "ALL VEHICLES SUBJECT TO SEARCH". Past the gate was the entrance to a tunnel; that must be the Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station.
"Halt!" shouted one of the guards. "Who goes there?"
"Excuse me," I said, clearly exhausted. "I'm Colin Mallory, and I'm here to see Michael and Elizabeth Mallory. I heard they work here."
"Visitors are not accepted unless they are sent here by royal order," said the guard. "You must turn back now."
It was dark, and my parents are probably home now. I could camp on the side of the road and wait until they come to work.
Or I could simply hop over the gate and head into the place, and that was what I did.
"Not another step or I'll zap you!" shouted the guard.
I then saw a police car come out of the tunnel entrance, and some more guards came out.
"You are under arrest," said the officer in charge of these guards.
I was immedaitely taken inside the Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station. I glanced at the concrete walls and floor of the tunnels which were part of the facility until I reached the cell block.
I was fingerprinted and eyescanned and they even took a swab out of my mouth. and then I was put into a cell. Forutantely, the guards served me dinner, which was beef and boiled potatoes. I quickly ate it, hungry as I was.
The cot in the bed was very comfortable. Before I drifted off to sleep, I remembered thinking what hell this homecoming was.
The next morning I woke up, and the Air Force guards served breakfast, which was scrambled eggs and bacon and orange juice-the same breakfast I had back in Salt Lake City. I went to the restroom and looked at myself in the mirror; hairs were alrteady growing above my lip and on my chin. I was truly a mess.
"We're going to question you," said the guard.
I was put into this small room where there was a table and two chairs. Minutes later, a U.S. Air Force captain entered, dressed in a blue dress uniform. A nametag read "SHAYS".
"Captain Shays, U.S. Air Force Security Police," he said. "You've been accused of trespassing on military property-a federal offense. You are, of course, entitled to remain silent and to have an attorney. If you wish to refuse to answer our questions, we will simply turn you over to the U.S. marshals. If you answer our questions, we may be able to get a lenient sentence for you. Tell me your name."
"My name is Colin Mallory," I said. "But you must know that from the fingerprint and retinal scan as well as that swab which I guess was for DNA testing."
"Yes," replied the captain. "We matched you to a Colin Mallory, who was reported missing since the war with the kromaggs. Why did you come here."
"To find my parents." I explained to him how I grew up in a parallel universe, and how I met my brother Quinn, and how the mircodot I found in my adoptive mother's locket told me of my true heritage, and how for the past two years, i was trying to get to my parents.
"That is enough," said Captain Shays. Minutes later, a guard escorted me to the cell.
Minutes later, I heard footsteps enter the cell block.
"So that's him," I heard a voice. say.
I recognized that voice. That was Rembrandt Brown!
"Remmy!" I shouted as I looked at him.
"You seem to know me," he said.
I looked at him, and noticed he was wearing an Air Force dress uniform, with the colonel's rank insignia on the shoulders. This man was my world's version of Rembrandt Brown.
"Well, I met someone like you," I said. "Listen, can I talk to Michael or Elizabeth Mallory?"
"Cuff him," said Colonel Brown.
Two of the guards slapped handcuffs on me and bent me over. I felt a dry heat on the back of my neck.
"Welcome home, son," I heard a male voice say.
I turned, and I looked straight at Michael and Elizabeth Mallory.
"Mom?" i asked. "Dad?"
The guards unlocked my handcuff. I went up to them and hugged them.
"Colin," said Mom. "We never thought you'd come back."
"I'm so glad to see you," said Dad.
"I've waited two years for this," I said.
"We've waited twenty-six," said Mom. "When we returned to get you, we were told you were dead. Now you're alive!"
I was home. At long last, I was home.
