From the Journal of Emily Heart, the Glassford Girl
How to Survive a Time
Jump
Living on the streets as a time jumper doesn’t have to be torture
if you remember to always keep your cool, plan each move carefully, and trust
your logic. The first instinct is to run, but don’t. That’ll only draw
attention to yourself. If you’re not in immediate danger, then stop, look,
listen, and most of all, think!
Sounds easy, doesn’t it? Well, it’s not. Especially for a
newbie. A zillion things can go wrong, but if you can stay calm and focus,
it’ll keep you alive. That usually means starting with a chill pill, because a major
panic attack will only make the situation worse. I know, ladies. That was me
when I first started. I was such a complete spaz. It’s so embarrassing now that
I think back on it.
It’s also important to memorize my simple Post Jump To Do List
and put it into action as soon as you land: clothes, food, and shelter. In that
order. Remember, only living cells can be transported across time and space, so
you won’t be able to take any clothes or supplies with you when you jump.
You can’t plan ahead and build a stash either. Time jumps
can take you months or even years ahead, and you’ll usually come out in some
other part of the city. By the time you get back to your stuff, it won’t be
there. So don’t bother. It’s a giant waste of time. One thing I’ve learned over
the years is that homeless people develop a special kind of uber radar for
finding things. Trust me, they WILL find your stash. No matter where you hide
it. And you can forget about keeping your bling safe.
I know this all sounds insane, but eventually you’ll learn
to fly by the seat of your pants, even though you won’t have any.
A sense of humor helps, too, since everyone’s gonna notice
you’re not wearing any clothes after a jump. Forget modesty, too. Focus on
survival and ignore everything else.
I still remember the first time I jumped. I came out in the burning
hot parking lot of a huge shopping center in Phoenix with a curious rent a cop
standing over me. The mall guard turned out to be a really nice guy and helped
me a lot, but still. You never know who’s gonna be around. Being naked in
public takes some getting used to; however, once you do, it serves as quite the
distraction for eye witnesses when they try to tell their story to the cops.
After all, who remembers a girl’s face when she’d naked?
But you need to realize up front, this won’t be easy. Everywhere
you turn, there will be creepers. Always gawking. Pointing. Drooling. Totally grosses
me out, but what’s a girl to do? Eventually, you’ll get used to it, just like I
did. There’s nothing you can do about it, so just deal and move on.
Being naked is the most natural thing there is, though it
can wreak havoc on your feet, especially in the city. OMG, what I wouldn’t give
for a pedicure and a foot massage. Some nail polish would be nice, too, and
some makeup, but that’s a whole other story.
Truth is, I never liked my Sasquatch feet anyway, but now
that I’m a veteran time jumper, they’re even more hideous. Ugly feet run in my
family and my mom’s were the worst. I guess that’s why they invented shoes—to
cover up the nasty.
Which reminds me, the worst part about time jumping is not
having socks. My feet are always cold when I come out of a jump, no matter
where I end up and believe me, you can end up anywhere. Been there, done that
if you know what I mean.
One time I came out of a jump and found myself face to face
with a pissed off orangutan at the Phoenix Zoo. He snarled at me with his big,
ugly face, and then threw crap at me—literally—and it stuck in my hair!
IN MY HAIR!
Yuck!
Granted, my hair is always a hot mess and I would gladly trade
a kidney for a good hairbrush, but come on, really? Poop in your hair? Do you
know how hard it is to get that @#^! out when you’re homeless?
And the smell! You know what I’m talking about—that funky
jungle stink that seems to take on a life of its own. Makes me want to hurl
just thinking about it.
So let this be a warning. If you come out of a jump and find
yourself staring at a giant primate armed with a handful of smelly stuff,
remember to DUCK!
Then run!
There aren’t exactly bathtubs for the homeless on every
street corner, so avoid the zoo at all costs. Oh, and stay away from police
stations, too. Cops don’t have a sense of humor when it comes to girls running
around in public in their birthday suit.
Anyway, always being cold after a jump is something you must
be prepared for when you first arrive somewhere. I think it has something to do
with the compression of space-time through a quantum fold, at least that’s what
I read in a physics book at the public library couple months back. There’s no
heat when you’re transported through time, so my poor little piggy’s always
come out as ice cubes when I wake up. Even in the middle of the blistering hot
summers in Phoenix. Luckily, it passes quickly and so does the nausea, so just
give it time.
Homeless shelters are where most rookies head for when they
first arrive. Don’t. Those people are impossible to deal with. There’s too much
competition for an already sucky selection of clothes, and the people that run
the place ask WAY too many questions. I’ll pass, thank you very much.
Instead, I look for the nearest church. Especially if it’s St.
Bob’s or whatever. Catholics are the best people to hit up for free stuff. They’re
always looking to help someone out, like it’s their religion or something. Go
figure. But they usually have boxes and boxes of nice stuff sitting around, and
they’re just waiting to give it all away. Free stuff is like gold—never pass it
up.
When you get there, grab a few things that fit and don’t
worry about fashion. If it’s warm and doesn’t smell like orangutan (if you know
what I mean) —be thankful. I don’t recommend carrying a suitcase around ‘cause
it screams HOMELESS GIRL. Actually, it screams DUMB HOMELESS GIRL. It’s like
walking around with a great big sign that says COME HURT ME.
The streets are filled with evil around every corner, so there’s
no reason to go out of your way to attract it. Be smart. Stay off the radar. Layer
on a few outfits and get moving. Don’t hang around any longer than necessary
because even the nice church people will eventually get nosey.
It seems like everyone wants to help the poor homeless girl—always
trying to fix you or change your life. Little do they know, time jumpers can’t
be fixed and we don’t need help! We’re just fine the way we are. Once you’re
dressed, get out as fast as you can and don’t forget a good pair of shoes and
socks for the road. Comfort over style is one of my rules, and I have many
rules I live by. But I’ll save that list for another time.
Once you’ve covered all your goodies with some clothes, it’s
time to think about food and water.
Water is easy—faucets are everywhere in the city, so keep
your eyes open and head down. When you pass a trash can, dig around and see if
you can find something to use as a water bottle. People always throw them away,
so it shouldn’t take long to find something useful. Keep it filled every chance
you get. Just be sure to wash it out good the first time. Oh, and never, and I
mean never, share it with the old homeless man who reminds you of your grandpa.
Can you say backwash?
Food is a little tougher.
My favorite place—a Mexican food restaurant.
They put so much food on a plate for everyone, there’s
plenty of leftovers that get thrown away. A quick trip around back and you can
usually score a fresh meal from the dumpster, assuming you don’t mind sharing
it with a bunch of hungry fly’s.
Enchiladas are my fave, but I don’t recommend the beans.
Being homeless with bad case of gas—and I’m talking about kill a horse kind of gas—won’t
earn you any brownie points with the normals.
Eventually you’ll need help from one
of them, so try not to offend their sense of smell.
Special Emily Tip: If you happen to stumble across some
unused wet-naps in the dumpster, snag ‘em. You can trade them for almost
anything.
Way back in the early days, finding a specific kind of restaurant
was easy. I’d just find the nearest phone booth, grab the yellow pages and turn
to the restaurant section. Now that cell phones are all the rage, it’s almost
impossible to find a pay phone anymore—let along yellow pages.
Since I don’t recommend talking to anyone or asking for
directions, that leaves you with two options: wandering around like a crazy
person, or using the Internet. Public libraries are the best choice for getting
online, especially if you’re a skilled, ninja chick like me. It didn’t take me long
to learn how to sneak past the old Nazi lady at the front desk.
How?
Let’s just say, this girl has skills. J
In an upcoming entry, I’ll show you seven handy tricks for
sneaking into places using my famous stealth moves. For now, just find a group
of chatty Kathy’s and slip inside with them. That usually works.
Once you’re past the entrance, you’ll need to head to the
back and sweet talk the tech guy. Every girl should already know how to do that,
so I won’t go into detail. LOL. Boys as soooo predictable—and gullible. Soon
you’ll be using a computer station without a library card any time you want. Just
use your imagination, girls. That’s all I’m gonna say. Wink. Wink.
One last tip before I end this journal entry.
Most people don’t realize this, but good luck trying to prove
your identity when you’re a homeless time jumper who doesn’t age and can’t bring
anything along when the blue fire comes. I’ve been traveling for thirty years now
and my records are long gone. Yours will be, too. Anonymity is both your friend
and your foe. So be prepared to deal with it. You won’t be able to get a job or
stay in a motel like a normal person without proper ID, so you’ll have to get
creative if you need cash or a place to stay.
That’s it for now. Next time, I’ll show you how to find
shelter and hunker down for the night. Like they say, it’s all about location,
location, location.
Remember, street urchins are everywhere, so stay safe and
stay strong!
And never, ever give up!
—Emily Heart
Glassford Girl Boxed Set: Parts 1 and 2
Emily Heart Time Jumper Series
Jay J. Falconer
Genre: Sci-Fi / Fantasy / Paranormal / Young Adult
Publisher: Bear Down Publishing
Date of Publication: 4-10-2015
ISBN: 978-1508985815
ASIN: B00VXYTS2S
Number of pages: 430
Book Description:
Teleportation. Telepathy. Superior strength and speed. Abilities she never wanted. Abilities she must learn to control.
Emily Heart used to have a normal life. A life filled with family, friends, and a warm bed to sleep in. But that was before the night of The Taking. The night when she was abducted and genetically transformed against her will.
Now she's lost everything and living on the streets of Glassford Park, struggling to stay alive one more day. But it won’t be easy. Not when a gang wants to kill her, cops want to arrest her, and a reporter wants to expose her.
However, Emily’s problems don’t end there. Any uncontrolled burst of emotion can send her jumping randomly across time and space, arriving naked and alone. If she's not careful, she could travel to infinity and beyond, never to be heard from again.
Emily doesn't quite know what she is, or what she's capable of, but she knows what she can't afford to do -- feel anything.
And she can’t afford to make any mistakes.
Available at Amazon
Chapter 1:
August
11, 2013
1:16
a.m.
Emily Heart
pushed through the burning pain in her chest and thigh muscles, convincing her
legs to run faster. She dodged a park bench before jumping over a homeless man
lying under a pile of cardboard.
Her mind’s eye
could see the gunman aiming his sights at the back of her head and squeezing
the trigger, sending the bullet out of the barrel and downrange with supersonic
intent. She leaned to the left, letting the round whiz past her
fifteen-year-old body. It took out the headlight of a cement truck parked
across the street near the alley behind Glassford Street.
The flickering
specks of blue light were fading in her vision. It wouldn’t be long before she
turned normal again. She would then be unable to see through the gunman’s eyes,
or sense the cold blackness of hate she could sense in his heart.
She bent forward
at the waist, using a low-profile running pattern, hoping she’d make it safely
to the alley. She ran through the grass at the edge of the park, over the
sidewalk and hit the asphalt, racing across the empty lanes of the street.
More gunshots
rang out, one after another in quick succession. She couldn’t see where the
bullets were headed, telling her the link with the shooter was broken. Bricks
and mortar exploded all around her as the hailstorm of rounds missed her. They
hit the side wall of an old warehouse covered in spray paint and gang signs.
She turned right, just before the cement truck, and ran down the alley.
“Don’t lose me!”
she yelled at Junie, who was sprinting in front of her, a book bag bouncing on
the back of her rail-thin body. Emily was falling behind, unable to keep up
with the speed and endurance of her twelve-year-old friend from the homeless
shelter.
A minute later,
she heard another round of weapons fire erupt as she was nearing the far end of
the block-long corridor, plinking and ricocheting off the walls around her. She
felt the wisp of a bullet fly through strands of her flowing red hair. It took
out the painted window on the wall ahead of her, shattering it into a million
shards of colored glass.
She looked back
and saw the gang leader standing at the entrance to the alley, changing the
magazine in his weapon. His crew came running into view, just catching up to
him.
She made the
corner and ran further down the passageway, which stank of garbage and sewage.
She hurdled a pothole, then flew over a garbage can laying on its side, almost
losing her balance in the process. But she managed to keep her feet under her
while her shoes pounded the pavement ahead.
Faster, she told
herself, faster! She pushed her feet to their tripping point, trying to draw
more blood and oxygen than her teenage body could deliver. Her legs wanted to
quit—so did her lungs—but she wouldn’t let them.
She pressed on,
looking ahead, trying to spot Junie, but she couldn’t see her anymore. She
turned another corner and saw a scrawny, dirt-covered leg sticking out from
behind a pile of stained mattresses leaning against the wall. She ducked in and
grabbed her friend by the shoulder, dragging her eighty-pound frame forward.
“Run, baby, run!
Don’t stop! One more corner and we’re there! It’s on the left!”
Emily had
learned over the past two years of living on the streets of Phoenix that the
blistering summers were endless and miserable, and so were the nights, keeping
most of the normal people indoors. She knew that nobody was watching, and
nobody cared. There would be no rescue. Not at this time of night, and not in
this part of town. It was up to her to get Junie to safety before the shooter
and his crew killed her.
She felt a
familiar tingle start to grow at the base of her spine when she turned the last
corner. “Oh, no! Not now! Not again!” she cried, trying to steady her nerves as
she caught up to Junie, who was squeezing her skinny body behind the dumpster.
She couldn’t let
it happen. Not so soon. She’d barely recovered from the last time. She needed
to focus all her attention on Junie, and let the balance of her emotions run
dry. It had only been four days since she’d met her fiery companion in the
homeless shelter, but she felt a strong connection with this girl, even though
she barely knew her. She didn’t know why, but something inside of her told her
to protect Junie. She was important somehow, not just another homeless girl
with a deadbeat mother nobody cared about.
She followed
Junie behind the garbage bin and into the hidden doorway; darkness engulfed
them. “Down the stairs. And stay quiet,” she told Junie in a whisper, locking
the door behind her.
“But I can’t
see.”
“Go slow and use
the handrails. There are twelve steps. Count ‘em as you go.”
They made it
down the steps and through another doorway that led into a basement storeroom.
It was piled high with junk and old restaurant equipment that had been
mothballed by the owner. Emily knew this place well, spending at least one
night a week there in recent months. It was her secret hiding place where she
could escape the insanity of the city.
An emergency
exit sign hung over the inside of the door that she’d just entered, showering
an eerie redness over the scene. On the wall to the left stood another door. It
led to a flight of stairs that rose up to the kitchen of a high-end Italian
restaurant. Emily had made friends with the eighteen-year-old busboy, Parker,
who was also a volunteer at one of the local shelters. When he was the last one
to leave for the night, he’d push the red dumpster close to the door as a
signal to Emily that the door was unlocked and she was welcome. She’d swoop in
around midnight, and lock the door behind her.
“Over here,”
Emily said, gesturing to a huge metal cabinet with rusty hinges that was
standing next to a stack of Styrofoam coolers. “I think we lost them.”
Junie’s chest
heaved in and out as it worked to recharge her lungs after the long run. “How
do you know?”
“I can’t feel
them anymore,” Emily replied, equally as winded.
Emily quickly
opened the white cooler sitting on top and put her hand inside, pulling out a
cellophane-wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a banana. As usual,
Parker had left the food for her in the top cooler with a chilled Pepsi acting
as ice to keep the contents from spoiling until she arrived. She tore the
cellophane off, split the bread down the middle, and gave half of it to Junie.
“Here, eat while
you can,” she said, before stuffing the sandwich into her mouth, chewing it
with abandon.
Junie did the
same, smiling, with peanut butter stuck to her teeth. “Sea food,” she said with
her mouth full.
Emily laughed.
“We have a banana for dessert.”
She popped the
Pepsi open and waited to see if the contents would bubble up. It did. She
sucked the cola off the top of the can until the carbonation settled down, then
gave the soda to her friend.
Junie guzzled
several swigs before giving it back to her. Emily swished the can around in a
circle to test its volume—only a quarter of the liquid remained. Emily finished
her half of the sandwich, then washed it down with the last bit of Pepsi.
They plopped
down against the wall beside the cabinet. Junie wrapped her arms around her
knees, keeping the dual-strap backpack sandwiched between her thighs and flat
chest.
“Junie, that’s
not yours. Where did you get it?”
“I—” Junie
hesitated. “I took it.”
Emily sighed,
feeling disappointment spread across her body. “What’s in it?”
She shrugged. “I
snatched it from those boys right before you showed up.”
“Lemme see.”
Junie gave her
the backpack.
Emily unzipped
it and peered inside. “Uh-oh,” Emily groaned. “We’re in big trouble.”
She tipped it to
the side and opened it wide so Junie could see the money inside. Lots of it.
Bundles and bundles of wrinkled $100 bills, each wrapped with a blue rubber
band and slip of notepaper with a four-digit number written on it.
* * *
Outside, the
group of West Side Locos that had been pursuing the two street girls were
becoming agitated. Their leader, Flaco, was more than agitated: he was pissed.
The chase had taken them several blocks outside of their home turf and into
enemy territory. He knew it was only a matter of time before a member of the
Glassford Gatos noticed their trespass. His crew was light, no match for a
full-out fight with a two-dozen-strong gang.
The crew stood
in a loose bunch on the sidewalk at the far end of the alley where the girls
had disappeared. Flaco was sure that the girls couldn’t have made it all the
way to the end before his crew rounded the corner. They must be hiding in the
alley somewhere.
“Where’d they
go?” he yelled at his lieutenant, Nesto, shoving him against the wall, his gun
pointed up under his chin. “El stupido! You let that street chica snatch the
buy money?”
Nesto shoved him
back, hard.
“Get the fuck
off me!” he yelled. “I didn’t do anything. She was already there. It was your
dumb-ass idea to set up the buy at the rec center. Back the fuck up.”
Flaco backed
away, lowering his gun. He looked down the alley, the way they had come.
“Okay. They have
to be in this alley somewhere. No way they made it all the way through here
before us. Split up. You two, this side; you two, that side,” he said,
gesturing down the alley. “Search everywhere. Garbage cans, dumpsters,
everything. We gotta get it back. Nesto, go back to the other end and keep
eyes. I got this side.”
The crew split
up, following his orders.
Flaco knew that
if they didn’t find the money, he was a dead man. His uncle would kill him
without a second’s remorse. He’d trusted him to make this drop with the
Russians—the first really big one since he’d decided to quit high school and
join the family business. He paced back and forth, trying to find a way out of
the situation. He was about to give up on the search when one of his crew
whistled from down the alley. It was the new kid, barely 14 years old. What was
his name? Derek? Kid didn’t look Latino, but he swore he’d grown up in Hope
Gardens on the West Side. Not that it mattered. His uncle told him to take him
along and break him in, so he did. “Do as you’re told, and don’t ask questions”
was a phrase that he knew all too well.
The new kid was
waving at him to come take a look at something.
Flaco ran down
the alley at full speed. “What you got?”
“Doorway,” Derek
replied, pushing the dumpster away from the wall. He pointed at the doorframe
where a torn shred of clothing was hanging on a nail. “Check it out. Wasn’t the
older girl wearing a blue T-shirt?”
Flaco smiled.
“We got ‘em. Good eyes, new boot.”
Flaco heard a
cry from Nesto, who was running toward them in a full gallop. “PolicÃa!
PolicÃa!”
A police cruiser
came screeching to a halt, blocking the alley at the end where they’d
originally entered. The cop gave the siren a quick double blast and then called
over the loudspeaker.
“You there! Stop
where you are! On the ground! Hands behind your head!”
Flaco and his
crew took off running in the opposite direction, but another police cruiser
with lights flashing and engine roaring skidded into the mouth of the alley,
trapping them.
“This way!”
Flaco yelled, instantly reversing direction. He ran a few feet, then veered and
kicked in the door that the new kid had found. He ran into darkness, not
expecting the ground to disappear from under his feet. He yelled as he fell
down the void face-first. He bounced and flipped, cracking his head on one of
the steps on the way to the bottom.
* * *
Emily’s spine
tingled again, deep down at the base, but the tingle was stronger than before.
She knew it was coming, and she wasn’t going to be able to stop it this time.
The gunshots must have started the countdown. Guns always sent her mind into a
blur and her heart racing, charging her body with a rush of uncontrolled
emotions that seemed to act as the trigger for the blue light. Gunfire and
gangs were two things that she had fought hard to avoid during her time on the
streets.
The jump was
coming, but she couldn’t leave Junie to fend for herself. She needed to think
of something. She usually had seventeen minutes from the first tingle until the
blue light consumed her and she’d vanish. The pre-jump process used to proceed
like clockwork, but lately it had been different. The lead time was now ten
minutes, tops, from the first indicator to the last moment. Barely enough time
to find seclusion before it happened. She didn’t understand why the timer
suddenly decided to change, it just had.
Now that she had
a friend in tow, she couldn’t slip away into the shadows and let it take her.
Not with Junie depending on her. This is why you never break the rules, she
scolded herself, as she reviewed the list in her head. Her mind highlighted
rule number seven in bold—never get involved; nothing good ever comes from it.
Junie was
babbling on and on, trying to explain what she was doing on the playground next
to the shelter in the middle of the night, and why she’d stolen a backpack from
a bunch of West Side Locos.
“I was sitting
in my secret place under that little arbor thing, ya know, in the corner by the
bathrooms. I was waiting for some drunk to finish his dump and leave so I could
wash up. I heard the Locos coming up the walkway through the trees by the
picnic tables so I hid. I knew the bag was important because they were arguing
about it. Then they all turned their backs and kept yelling at each other.
English mostly, but some Spanish sprinkled in. They just left it sitting there
on the picnic table. I thought I could sneak up and grab it and get away, then
sell whatever was in it. I hate living in that shelter, Em. Too much touching.
I don’t like all those hugs, and people wanting to give me a bath all the time.
They think they have to help me just because Mom leaves me alone for an hour to
go out and get high. Plus it smells like vomit all the time.”
The tingle in
Emily’s spine crept up to her shoulder blades, confirming what she already
knew—the countdown had started.
“Shhhhh,” she
said, covering Junie’s mouth with her hand. “I hear voices outside.”
“Are they coming
in?”
“I don’t know. I
can’t sense them. The walls must be blocking.”
They listened.
There were muffled voices just outside the door, at the top of the stairs where
the dumpster had hid their escape route. Emily’s pulse started to pound even
more, thumping in her eardrums. The tingly feeling shot up to her neck. She
took a deep breath, trying to focus her thoughts away from the ticking bomb
inside of her. She had to do something with Junie, and fast. She only had
minutes.
“We have to get
out of here,” she whispered. “We can sneak out through the upstairs—it’s a
restaurant, and they close early. I doubt anyone is there this late, but we’ll
probably set off the alarm when we leave.”
“Alarm?”
“Do you remember
my friend Parker that I told you about? The busboy?”
She nodded.
“He disabled the
sensors on the back door so I can sleep here whenever it’s raining, or when he
leaves food out for me. Nobody ever comes down here except him when he takes
the trash out, so he leaves food for me whenever his boss leaves early. I never
go beyond this basement. That’s our deal. But we don’t have a choice this time.
Just stick close and we’ll be fine. If I run, you run. Got it?”
Junie’s eyes
widened. She looked scared, but she nodded.
They got up and
made their way across the room as shouting rang out from the alley above. They
froze. Emily heard a police siren chirp twice, then an amplified voice that
sounded like it was coming over a loudspeaker. Shit. Cops. Definitely cops.
Thump! Thump!
Thump!
“The Locos are
trying to kick the door in!” Junie said.
Thump! Thump!
Crack! The door at the top of the stairs to the alley slammed open, and one of
the West Siders came tumbling down head over heels. He fell through the door at
the bottom and landed on his side in a heap, just inside the entrance of the
storeroom. His eyes were closed and his head was bloody. He started to moan.
Junie screamed.
Emily covered
her mouth.
“Flaco?” a
Latino voice called out from the top of the stairs. “Flaco? You okay?
Emily held a
finger to her mouth, reminding Junie to be quiet.
The same voice
spoke again. “Send Derek down to check.” A few moments later, footsteps pounded
the wooden steps, getting louder with each beat.
“Run!” Emily
whispered in Junie’s ear, shoving Junie across the room toward the door that
led to the kitchen upstairs. Junie opened the door and ran up the steps. Emily
was about to follow her friend, but stopped when she heard another person
breathing heavily behind her. Something told her to turn and look at him. It
felt like curiosity, but it was more than that.
He was young—too
young. Maybe a little younger than she. The red glow of the exit sign made it
difficult to be sure, but his spiked hair looked to be jet-black, with triangle
sections cut down to the scalp above his ears. His eyes were either blue or
green. She hoped blue. Tattoos covered both of his forearms like a sleeve, and
a single gold earring hung down below his left ear. She didn’t recognize its
unique shape—maybe it was a symbol, or something that he’d made. He was two
inches taller than she, with high cheekbones that perfectly offset his narrow,
aquiline nose and full lips.
Emily couldn’t
help herself. She stared into the eyes of the pretty boy. A thought came
unbidden into her mind: he’s way too cute to be part of this.
“Damn girl,
you’re smokin’,” he said, with a voice much lower than she had expected. His
eyes moved down across her figure, then back up.
She smiled when
he made eye contact with her again, sensing that he wasn’t going to shoot. He
was calm and quiet on the inside. There was no malice in his thoughts, just a
growing feeling of desire that excited her.
He lowered his
gun.
She relaxed.
Then a voice
came flooding down the stairs, as did more footsteps, breaking the calm.
“Derek?”
Derek bolted
across the room at her. Emily came to her senses and lashed out with her right
foot, just like Master Liu had taught her. The lightning-fast front kick struck
him in the groin and he fell back to the doorway and landed on top of Flaco,
temporarily blocking access for the rest of their crew.
Emily ran
upstairs and shut the door behind her, jamming a metal garbage can under the
doorknob to slow the gang down.
Junie stepped
out of the shadows in the dimly lit kitchen. She was holding a stainless steel
skillet cocked by her ear, ready to brain whoever came up the steps.
“It’s me!” Emily
hissed, taking the weapon from her friend. She put it on the counter next to
the prep station. “Hurry, out the front. This way.”
She ran past
Junie through the double swing doors where the dining room of the elegant
restaurant was waiting. Lights from the street cast shadows across the empty
chairs, wooden tables, and the bubbling lobster tank. The tables were covered
with white tablecloths and folded linen napkins, wineglasses, and elegant
cutlery. The floor was spotless and shiny, and there was a fresh scent of pine
in the air.
Emily felt a
tremor rise up through her body. What had begun as a tingle in her spine was
now an overwhelming, full-body sensation. She felt electrified and alive, like
she always did right before a jump, meaning that her senses had now been
supercharged, allowing her to have visions of the immediate future. Normally,
she would use this ability to know where to hide until the jump came and she
could disappear. But this time, she couldn’t just use her abilities to protect
herself. She had to make sure Junie would be okay before she vanished.
She knew that
another thug was about to start kicking at the door to the kitchen behind her,
and then bolt through it and find his way into the dining area, where he’d
start shooting his machine gun. She could sense his plans, and felt the anger
boiling inside his chest. It wasn’t the pretty boy that she’d kicked in the
basement. This one was itching to kill.
She waited a few
seconds for what she knew would come next. It did—the extra strength that
hard-charged her muscles, allowing her to become stronger and faster, but only
for a short time. It would fade from her body the moment time began to slow
down, which was the last step in the process right before the jump.
She scooped
Junie in her arms like a rag doll, ran across the dining room in a flash, and
dove over a low wall that separated the foyer from the dining room. Junie sat
in a ball, clutching the backpack to her chest, holding onto it for dear life.
“You know they
don’t serve peanut butter in a place like this,” Junie mumbled.
“What?”
“My mom used to
be a hostess, so I know. Your friend must have brought it from home. I think he
likes you.”
She took Junie’s
head in her hands and looked her in the eyes. “Listen to me. We don’t have much
time. As soon as I’m gone, wait for the glass to break on the front window.
Then go through it and run outside. Hide the backpack somewhere safe and go
find the cops.”
“Cops? We don’t
like cops!”
“This time we
do. They’ll protect you. They’re holding back now, but they’ll be here in a few
minutes.”
“When do I run,
again?”
“After I’m gone,
you’ll hear gunfire, but don’t be afraid. The bullets won’t be coming at you. A
man will scream, and then glass will break. That’s when you run. After the
glass breaks. Got it?”
Junie gulped as
tears began to flow, but she seemed to pull it together. She sniffed and
nodded. “Thank you, Em.”
“You should use
a tablecloth so you don’t get cut,” she said, helping Junie put her backpack
on.
“When will I see
you again?”
“It might take
me a while, but I’ll find you. Now cover your ears, and don’t scream when you
hear gunshots. He won’t be aiming at you. Just wait for the glass.”
Emily heard the
double doors swing open and smash against the walls on either side of them.
Emily took a
breath and steadied herself for what she was about to do. The closer she got to
a jump, the more it happened: time got slow and she got fast, but only for
about fifteen seconds of her time immediately preceding a jump.
She felt the
blue energy rise up through her body, telling her that it was time to act.
She sprang over
the wall and ran at the gunman in a cloud of blue. She could see three bullets
just leaving his gun, hanging in midair, with smoke trails behind them. She
touched the bottom of each bullet with her finger as she zipped past them, then
grabbed the wrist on the man’s gun hand and added a twisting force to it.
She turned her
attention to the second villain who had been frozen in time, stepping through
the double swing doors. There was another man in the kitchen behind him, but
she didn’t see the pretty boy, Derek, anywhere. She grabbed the second man’s
shoulders and spun him around so that his gun was facing the third man, who was
not far behind. She gently touched the trigger finger of the second gunman,
then moved to the third Loco and did the same with his trigger finger.
She dashed out
of the kitchen and into the dining room, where she applied pressure to the
underside of a table built to seat eight people, calculating the trajectory of
its flight in her head.
She knelt on the
ground, then curled herself into the fetal position and waited for the last
second of the countdown to tick by. It did.
The jump pain
hit as her body began to sizzle with blue lines of energy, like tiny lightning
bolts crisscrossing her skin. A searing bolt of agony shot from the back of her
skull to the center of her forehead, just as she was consumed by the blue fire
and vanished.
* * *
Junie heard
things happen just as Emily had described: first there were three shots of
gunfire that tore through the ceiling panels above her, then a man screaming in
pain, then more gunshots, then more screaming, then glass breaking, and a
second after that, the alarm system began to wail.
She took a deep
breath and ran to the front window, seeing a man on his knees holding his
wrist, and two bodies a little further back lying on the floor, bleeding from
their chests. She snatched a tablecloth, stepped on the wooden chair closest to
the broken window, spread the tablecloth over the bottom of the frame, and
climbed out. She heard sirens coming from the right, but she decided to go left
instead, running as fast as her feet could take her.
About the Author:
Jay J. Falconer is an independent author, publisher, blogger, editor, engineer and Sci-Fi junkie who lives in the mountains of northern Arizona where the brisk, clean air and stunning mountain views inspire his workday. He makes his online home at: www.JayFalconer.com and is an active member author with BookBreeze.com.
Mr. Falconer is the author of the critically acclaimed Narrows of Time Series and The Emily Heart Time Jumper Series, and is currently developing an all new apocalyptic Sci-Fi series called Redfall, The Flames of Tomorrow, due to be released in 2015.
Be sure to watch the video trailer for the Author's Narrows of Time book series by cutting and pasting this link: http://youtu.be/QXic3vkwC1U
Website: http://www.JayFalconer.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/NarrowsOfTime
Twitter: @JayJFalconer
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