Other World

By K.L. Thompson

When a simple science experiment goes awry, Jack finds himself in a world of hurt - but it's not his world! Transported to an alternate universe, he better learn who he can trust before he runs out of time. But time isn't always on his side, and it seems to have a habit of changing when he least expects it. He soon discovers he isn't the only one who has crossed to this dimension, and this fellow traveler could just prove to be the girl he has always dreamed of meeting. Can he find a way back to his own world and time without losing her - or his life?

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.L. Thompson
• Release date: Oct 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465860996

K.L. Thompson

K. L. Thompson (Ken) lives in North Idaho with his wife Dana, and Rusty the dog. The trio enjoys camping, hiking, fishing, sailing, the occasional walk along the lake shore and, of course, reading and writing.

Book preview

Other World

A Novel

By K.L. Thompson

Other World is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2011 by K.L. Thompson

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

Chapter 1

Jack toggled the rocker switch on the control box, and a resonating hum filled the small workshop.

Ok, now what? He said to himself.

He glanced at the box the thing had been packaged in; Create your own amazing lighting shows was printed on the side. He pushed the switch to the off position and reviewed the instruction sheet again.

It was assembled correctly, according to the sheet, but he couldn’t see where light was supposed to come out of it. There were only five parts to the thing; the main part was a foot high, cone-shaped base with a round, silver ball on top, about a foot across. Like those static generators they have in high school science classes; the kind that make your hair stand on end when you touch them. Then there were four metal rods, about a foot tall, each with a wire going back to the cone thing. The instruction sheet showed a diagram with each rod placed equidistant from the cone, like forming the corners of a box. He had that right. The only other part was the control box he held in his hand. Well, that and the power cord. The stupid power cord was why he was outside in his storage shed/workshop instead of in the house. The shed had a 220 volt outlet that matched the prongs on the cord.

He looked at the control box. It had the on/off switch and two dials, and that was it. He toggled the rocker switch again, Should do more than just hum.

He cranked the left dial all the way to the right. Suddenly, with a loud SNAP, an arc of electricity flew from the silver ball, striking one of the metal rods.

Wow! Is it supposed to do that?

A few seconds later another bolt of electricity snapped from the device. Jack snatched the instruction sheet off of the workbench, nearly upending his beer in the process, and reviewed it again. At the bottom of the single sheet was a clipart picture of Zeus holding a lightning bolt. Now he understood. It was lightning shows, not lighting shows.

He played with the dials and soon discovered that the left dial controlled how intense the spark was, and the right dial controlled how often it came out.

It’s a Tesla coil. Why didn’t I see that as soon as I took it out of the box? He said, feeling a bit dense. He had seen them before; on television, and a real one in college. The one in college had been much larger and, frankly, had scared the daylights out of him when the kid giving the demonstration turned it on.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Another storm? he grumbled. This was his first winter in the Pacific Northwest and it seemed that it would last forever. It was only February, but he was so ready for summer to arrive. So far, this winter had been rain, drizzly rain, two days of icy roads, more rain and the occasional stunningly beautiful day. If it wasn’t for the beautiful, sunny days - even though they were few and far between - he was sure he would just go crazy.

Jack thought back to that Tesla coil demonstration in college. The kid in charge had entertained them by placing different types of objects in range of the coil and then zapped them. It had been interesting to see some of the things the electricity had been attracted to.

Hmmm, that gives me an idea, he said, as he switched off the device and went to his house.

He was back a few minutes later with a small box and a second beer. He set the box and beer on the workbench and shook the water out of his hair. It was really coming down now. He unearthed a stool and dragged it closer to the coil, set a small folding camp table next to the stool and removed the items from the box. First out was a baseball, followed by a kitchen fork, then his kitchen hammer; you know - the one everybody keeps in the junk drawer just in case. Then a ballpoint pen, an old pair of sunglasses and the little gyroscope his step-brother had given him for Christmas when they were young. Last out was his high school baseball trophy. It was just cheap plastic, but it was painted with silver paint.

He put the trophy inside the perimeter formed by the metal rods, went back to his stool and toggled the power switch. Nothing.

Well that was disappointing, he said. It made no difference how he adjusted the dials; the lightning just didn’t interact with the trophy. A trophy was the first item that kid in college had zapped with his coil. He had a better trophy, I guess.

He tried several of the other objects from the box: the baseball, the ballpoint pen and the sunglasses. He trooped back and forth as he set each in exactly the same spot, the Kill Zone. (Well, maybe the Zap Zone). No success with those items, but the fork and hammer seemed to draw the electrical arcs once in awhile. Then he tried the small gyroscope. It was all metal, so it should be a good target. He spun it up to speed and set it on its stand.

This time when he hit the switch, arcs of electricity repeatedly struck the little gyroscope.

Jack wasn’t a destructive person and had no intention of ruining any of the items from the box, but he did have a strong sense of curiosity, and had always asked himself ‘what if.’ He adjusted the dials on the control box, marveling at how more than half of the arcs of electricity struck the gyroscope rather than the rods forming the perimeter. He also noticed that some of the arcs were now striking the concrete where he had left wet footprints from his tracking back and forth.

Behold, the awesome power of Zeus! he said, as he chuckled to himself. A second later there was a bright flash and loud crack as lightning split the sky. Holy shi.. but before he could finish his expletive, the coil sitting on the floor of his shed emitted, instead of small blue arcs of electricity, one large, ropy white tendril of energy as big around as a man’s wrist. It snaked out faster than the eye could follow, ignoring the small spinning gyroscope, avoiding the metal rods, and struck Jack in the forehead, directly above his right eye.

Jack had several thoughts in that fraction of a second, right before that vicious viper of energy hit him. First, Zeus was punishing him for blasphemy. Second, how stupid he had been to play with high voltage while dripping wet.

The electricity hit him in the head like a sledge hammer and brought with it blinding light and searing pain. That massive amount of energy caused every muscle in Jack’s body to convulse. His back went rigid, his arms tensed and his hands squeezed tightly, gripping the control box. His legs kicked straight out with such force he was knocked over backwards, stool and all. Then he was falling. It seemed he fell forever as blackness overcame him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What’s that stench? Jack croaked. A strong smell of ozone and the nauseating odor of burned flesh and singed hair filled the air. He gagged; he couldn’t stand that smell. He rolled onto his side, but the smell was just as bad. Then he vomited. The simple movement of rolling onto his side brought the awareness of pain. Every inch of his body was in pain, and he had what felt like the very worst migraine he had ever had in his life. His head was spinning and his eyes were on fire. Bile rose, and he vomited again. He moaned as he rolled onto his back.

Got to get up. Got to get help, he said as he tried to rise. Another wave of nausea and dizziness took him, so he lay back down.

In a minute. I’ll rest just for a minute.

Chapter 2

Jack Preston, salesman extraordinaire.

Funny, Bill.

Come on, Jack. You’re the only one who’s sold anything so far this week.

Bill, it’s only Wednesday and it was only a case of ping pong balls.

Well, at least it’s something. By the way, we have reservations at Bella, Friday, 7 o’clock sharp. Don’t be late.

What?

You know - Valentine’s day.

You want me to be your date on Valentine’s Day? What’s Judy going to think?

Funny. Judy’s going, too.

Three’s a crowd. Especially on Valentine’s day.

There will be four of us.

Jack groaned; here we go again. Bill, I am perfectly capable of making my own dating arrangements.

So you have a date for Valentine’s Day?

No.

Jack, you moved here what, a year ago?

Eleven months.

How many dates have you had?

You should know. You set them up.

Well, this one is with Pat, Judy’s partner. She is very pretty and a sweetheart. You’ve been talking about meeting her anyway. You are going, so get used to the idea. Judy will not take no for an answer this time. She also said you are to dress nice and wear a tie; but not that tie, Bill said, pointing at the tie Jack was wearing.

What’s wrong with this tie?

It looks like a fish.

It is a fish! It’s a steelhead, Jack said as he pulled the tie out from behind his jacket so Bill could have a better look. My mom got it for me when I graduated from college. I think it’s kinda cool looking.

Your mom bought you that? She paid money for that thing? Bill said.

Yes, she did. It’s a gag gift, Bill. I only wear it until the novelty wears off, then it’s no fun anymore.

Yeah, well, leave it home. Choose another. Do you know how to get to Bella’s?

I do. That’s where you had me take the hooker you set me up with, remember?

She wasn’t a hooker, she was a professional escort.

Semantics, Bill. I just can’t figure out how you meet these women. I can’t believe Judy would let you hang out anywhere you could meet them, Jack said.

They are all Judy’s clients! Bill laughed.

That made sense; a professional escort, exotic dancer, tattoo artist… Jack could see where these women could use an accountant.

Anyway, you are going, like it or not, Bill said.

Ok, but right now, I am going home, it’s quitting time.

See you tomorrow, Jack.

After nearly a year in the Portland area, Jack had figured out how to get home from the office without getting involved in the daily snarl-ups on the 205. He actually drove more miles, but the travel time was much less. Because of all the miles he was logging, he had sprung for one of those new hybrid cars. He was consistently getting 40 miles per gallon out of it. Not what the sticker in the window had promised, but it was still better than the 16 his truck delivered in city traffic.

Hi, Jack. The usual?

Yeah, thanks, Juan. How’s the missus? Jack asked as he put the car in park.

She’s either rubbing her belly or holding her back all the time now. The Doc says two weeks, Juan said with a big grin.

Well you tell her I said hi, Jack said as he passed his card through the drive up window. He had discovered this place while exploring alternate routes home. Big Bob’s Burger Barn was just a small Mom and Pop place, but they made the best hamburgers in Portland. Juan and Cindy, the owners, were some of the nicest people he knew. He had helped them with their computer network several months ago, and now they treated him like family.

I expect pictures, Jack said, as Juan handed his card back.

You got it! Next window please. Have a good night, Jack.

See you later, Juan, Jack said as he pulled the car forward.

Jack had received a job offer a year ago from a sporting goods wholesaler, selling to retailers across the nation. A profession that was completely different from his previous life of computers, but a nice change of pace. When he first made the move to the Portland area, he had been unsure if he wanted to stay. His move had been at the suggestion - no, the insistence - of his accountant, so rather than buy something, he rented a small, two bedroom, two bath place in a nice, but older neighborhood. Six months later, his landlord told him he was putting the place on the market and moving to Arizona. So, Jack made him an offer and bought the older home. He was feeling confident about the move and his new career.

It didn’t hurt that his new employer was married to one of the partners of the accounting firm that handled his finances and investments - hence the insistence of his accountant that he accept the job. He had also met Bill, the owner, several years earlier while he was training Bill to use a new software package, and they had hit it off. Bill’s wife, Judy, was the senior partner of the accounting firm Jack used. She was an attractive woman in her forties, and she had a great sense of humor; she was married to Bill, after all. But for some reason she seemed to constantly worry about Jack’s love life.

A good looking guy like you shouldn’t live alone, Jack, she said, especially at your age.

At my age? You’re not any older than I am.

I am older than you, Jack, and I have Bill.

Just waiting for the right one to come along, Jack chuckled.

Well, unless you expect ‘Miss Right’ to drop into your lap, you need to get out there!

Yes, ma’am, he said.

They had that conversation every few weeks, and usually, a few days later, Bill would set him up with another blind date. It was a bit of an annoyance, but he would never let her know he felt that way. She meant well.

Jack’s phone chimed as he pulled into his driveway. He parked his car in the carport and fished his phone out of his pocket. It was a text from Pat, Judy’s partner.

I understand we have a date Friday. Lol, it read.

Yes, I have my marching orders, ha ha. I finally get to meet you. Should be fun, he sent back. He felt like he knew Pat pretty well (they often talked online and via text), but he had never actually met her. He had been to her office on several occasions, but she was either with a client or out of the office - a very busy girl.

See you Friday! she answered.

He had been so distracted texting Pat that he nearly tripped over a rather large package sitting on his front porch. He unlocked the door, set his dinner on the kitchen table and then went back out and hefted the package inside. It was kind of heavy.

It had a UPS shipping label on it, but no indication of who the sender was. He kicked the front door closed and lugged the package into the kitchen where he set it on the floor next to the table. He used a steak knife out of his silverware drawer to cut the shipping tape and opened the box, only to find another box inside with an envelope taped to the top. The envelope had Jack neatly written on it - nothing more - just his first name. He opened the envelope and withdrew a note. Happy Valentine’s Day, Jack, PSW, was all it said. ‘Who is PSW?’ Jack thought. The box inside the packaging had no graphics on it (none of the normal pictures and flashy art), only Create your own amazing lighting shows printed on one side and an item number below it.

Jack changed his clothes and ate the dinner he had picked up on the way home, all the while looking at the box and pondering the source of the mystery gift. He thought it was a strange kind of Valentine’s Day present. What kind of lighting show could he expect? When he extracted the assembly instructions, he discovered the thing required 220 volts, so he lugged the box out to the storage shed.

He had assembled the device, discovered the misspelling on the outside of the packaging, and was having a good time playing with the new toy, when things had gone right straight to hell.

Chapter 3

Warm sunlight caressed Jack’s cheek, and a cool breeze rustled his hair. He groaned and opened his eyes. He was lying on his back looking straight up through the trees at the clear, blue sky beyond.

Why am I outside? He wondered. He lay staring up at the tree tops and sky, but an answer didn’t come. As he levered himself into a sitting position, he fought a brief wave of dizziness and nausea, and he inhaled a nasty odor.

Gross! What stinks? He said out loud. Next to him, on his right, ants had discovered the putrid prize and were carting bits of Jack’s bag-o-burgers dinner off to their queen. His gag reflex kicked in and he heaved again, but there was nothing left to come up. He rolled to his left and crawled a few feet away to get clear of the smell and propped himself up against a tree, taking deep breaths to help calm his nausea.

Once he was away from the stench and able to breathe fresh air, his stomach settled down. But his eyeballs felt like they were about to bleed, he had a screaming headache, a nasty burn on the back of his right hand, and his forehead really hurt. When he gently probed his forehead, he discovered a spot about the size of a silver dollar that was really painful to the touch and a bit sticky. Electrical burn, he thought. I’ll have to get that taken care of right away. He found nothing that appeared to be broken, but his body felt as if he had been beaten by a gang of angry thugs. He was mildly surprised to find the jeans, sneakers and polo shirt he had changed into last night after work were mostly clean, considering he had apparently been rolling around in the dirt.

As a few more of the cobwebs cleared away from his mind, he found, instead of an increased understanding of his situation, more confusion. Somehow, he was no longer in his workshop, it was early morning (at least it felt like morning), but when he looked at his wristwatch to check the time, he found it was dead.

He gazed at his surroundings trying to comprehend what his eyes were telling him. He was somewhere outside, in a forest with big, tall trees. Some kind of pine tree, Jack guessed. They looked like lodge pole pine, but they were much taller than any he had seen before. It was warm, but not hot, and the sun was shining through the trees from his left.

The smell of the place, now that he had moved away from his contribution to the local ecology, seemed to be clean and crisp. Refreshing, he would have thought had he not had such a pounding headache.

The forest floor was covered with pine needles, small debris and the occasional fallen dead tree, but it certainly didn’t look like the coastal forests he had explored in the Portland area. He didn’t see any of the moss or the large ferns that would suggest the wetter, coastal climate.

Ok, I am in the woods. Let’s figure out how I got here, he said.

He ran through all the possibilities that came to mind; he knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, but none seemed likely. Well, he thought, maybe after I was electrocuted, my brain went haywire, I got in my car and drove myself here, hiked into the woods and then laid down, all in the dark, like the sleep walkers your read about. Hmmm.

Maybe I was mugged by angry thugs who beat the hell out of me, stole my car and dumped me in the woods hoping I would die. Yeah, right. Maybe this is all a hallucination created in the few moments before my mind dies, and I am really lying on the cold concrete floor in my rinky-dink shed.

If this is it, Jack said, why couldn’t my mind have conjured up a nice, warm, sandy beach somewhere and a cool tropical drink?

He dug in his pocket, fished out his car keys and his phone. The presence of the keys eliminated the carjacking theory. The phone was dead, like the watch, probably fried.

Get up, Jack, and get moving. You won’t find help just sitting here, he said to himself.

He levered himself up, dropped the keys and phone back into his pocket and looked around. Which way? He picked the direction that looked like it would offer the least resistance and was downhill. He was still a bit unsteady on his feet and he had a screaming headache, but if he paid attention and was careful, he felt he could make good progress.

He made his way downhill, weaving around trees and rocks and climbing over deadfall. He was still shaky and his pounding head seemed to sap his strength, so his progress was slow. He was becoming a little annoyed at himself for the slow progress. He was an outdoor person, he worked out and stayed in shape, but he just couldn’t make himself go any faster. He knew he should cut himself some slack; he had been electrocuted, and that was probably the reason for his lack of energy, but he was still irritated with himself.

The sun hadn’t moved very far in the sky (maybe thirty minutes of climbing and weaving) when he came to the end of the forest. Well, not the end, but it sure seemed to be as he stood looking off the edge of a cliff.

He inched closer to the edge to get a look down. It was at least a 200 foot drop down to a thick canopy of trees. He looked to the left and then to the right. The cliff seemed to extend as far as he could see. Jack retreated from the edge and sat resting for a