Conor and the Crossworlds, Book Three: Surviving an Altered World

By Kevin Gerard

Surviving an Altered World begins with Conor and Janine facing a devastating destroyer who commands the elements of nature. The demon uses this awesome power to decimate Earth, imprisoning everyone they know in a chilling, lifeless state. Conor and his girlfriend must journey to different worlds in order to locate the Five Keys, restore order to the Crossworlds and save everyone they know.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin Gerard
• Release date: Aug 17, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452493091

Kevin Gerard

Kevin Gerard lives in San Diego, California, with his two feline buddies, Jesse the WonderCat and Little Man. He teaches statistics at Cal State San Marcos. When not writing or teaching, he enjoys walking the grounds at the San Diego Zoo, hitting the waves at Cardiff State Beach, and hanging with his brother, nieces and nephews at the local Pizza Port. He also enjoys playing Halo on the internet; look for him in the rocket games as one of the characters from the Diego’s Dragon or Conor and the Crossworlds fantasy adventure series.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

"Leave him alone, Dennis," said the lanky teenager. The fourteen year old freshman positioned himself in between his friend and the ranking bully in the high school. Dennis Denny Burton had a habit of picking on kids a lot smaller than him, and he usually found little resistance. So he was noticeably shocked to find young Conor Jameson standing in his way.

Get the heck outta my way, Jameson, said the bulky high school junior. This is between me and Kyle.

The larger student grabbed Conor’s friend by his collar and started to drag him away. At the same time, Dennis moved his other arm in front of Conor and tried to push him aside.

Conor stepped inside his arm and brought the full weight of his body behind an elbow that landed in the middle of Dennis’ rib cage. Dennis groaned and grabbed his ribs, releasing both Conor and his friend as he did so. He bent over in pain and cursed Conor for his foolishness.

You could have left it alone, Jameson, said Dennis, still holding his ribs. Now, you’re going to pay.

Recovering quickly, Dennis ran straight at Conor, trying to grab him around his neck. Conor easily side-stepped the predictable tactic and threw his left forearm across Denny’s right arm. This left an opening wide enough for anyone to take advantage of, but Conor merely grabbed his opponent’s right arm and twisted it just so. Dennis reacted in the only way available to him; he went immediately to his knees and rolled over on his back. Conor placed his heel on Dennis’ throat and pulled the larger student’s wrist toward him. This move trapped the bigger opponent by reversing any energy expelled trying to escape. Dennis would choke himself if he attempted anything but submission.

If I let you up, will you walk away? asked Conor in a threatening tone.

Lemme go! pleaded the larger student.

Answer me, will you walk away? repeated Conor while applying more weight to his foot.

Y-Y-Yes, said Dennis, nearly choking now. Now get off me.

Conor threw off the hands he held and stepped away. If you bother Kyle again, you’ll have to answer to me, said the capable teenager. Don’t think I won’t be watching, Dennis.

You just better watch yourself, Jameson, said Dennis weakly as he stood up and brushed himself off. We’re gonna be looking for you.

Conor watched his bigger adversary lope away. If you only knew, whispered Conor to himself. If you only knew where I’ve traveled and what I’ve been through. If you had any idea at all.

CHAPTER TWO

The past two years provided a whirlwind of change for Conor Jameson. His physical stature had improved quite noticeably in twenty-four months. Now five feet and eight inches tall, Conor wore a lanky but muscular build. At fourteen, he stood with most of the taller boys in his freshman class at Mountmoor High School in Northern California. He excelled at track and soccer. For some reason he could run faster and jump farther than all but a few of the best senior athletes at the school. He possessed an unnatural affinity for soccer. Indeed, whenever students saw him jousting on the field with a soccer ball, they swore Conor resembled a cat playing with a ball of yarn. During varsity matches, opposing players from other high schools sighed in frustration after their attempts to out-duel Conor for the ball.

His athletic prowess surprised everyone – his family, his friends and his schoolmates. Everyone knew Conor as an uncoordinated, awkward boy for most of his life. Even his father noticed his abilities soon after his son turned thirteen years of age. Only Conor understood how the transformation had come about.

Without saying a word to anyone, and after returning from the Glade of Champions, Conor began to experiment with his new physical gifts. When no one was looking, he jumped down the entire stairway in his home – sixteen steps in one leap. He turned around and bounded back up the stairs again in two jumps – eight stairs at a time. He jogged into the forest behind their home and then took off running as fast as he could. The trees became a blur as Conor darted up and down the trails. Then he stopped at one particularly large tree and scaled the branches as if they were steps on a ladder. Sitting over one hundred feet in the air at the top of the tree, Conor felt perfectly comfortable in a place where others his age might fall unconscious from the lofty heights.

When he entered Mountmoor High School in the fall of his fourteenth year, Conor made an immediate impression on the varsity athletics coaches. In physical education classes, Conor became a standout player in football, baseball, basketball, soccer, and any other sport he participated in. After fielding many requests from the coaching staffs of every sport at the school, Conor politely declined all offers except for track and soccer. At least these sports, thought Conor, would allow some release without giving away his superior abilities.

By the time Conor had reached his teen years, he realized that the creators of the Crossworlds had given him a gift in return for his service during his journeys with Maya. A small portion of the abilities of each Crossworlds Champion had been secreted away somewhere inside Conor’s body. While he traveled with Maya he enjoyed the powers of a certain Crossworlds cat only during the battles for the corridors. Now it appeared that a few physical aspects of the great cats had become his to enjoy permanently. He possessed, at least in part, the speed of a cheetah, the brute force of a jaguar, the strength of a tiger, and the patience of a cougar.

Even while enjoying these wonderful gifts, Conor wondered at times about Therion, the lost Champion. He understood the creators’ decision to deny him the premier quality of the king of beasts. Therion had broken their trust, and more than any other quality, the creators valued trust above all. Even as he recalled what Therion had done, Conor admitted to himself how much he had counted on the giant lion’s indomitable spirit.

Along with the excitement of using his new abilities, Conor realized the challenge he faced in not exposing too many of his strengths. At fourteen years old, Conor could run faster, jump higher, and outplay any other boy in the entire school. But he knew better than to win every event every time. He knew questions might arise should a fourteen-year-old nobody start to suddenly win match after match in high school competition. So he tempered his achievements by winning some and losing more, but always winning the events that counted. In no time at all, Conor realized the benefits of athletic competition. He amassed an enormous group of friends, one of which became his girlfriend, Janine, shortly after his arrival at Mountmoor. He enjoyed thinking about what lay ahead for him in the next few years of his athletic endeavors.

Academics, however, posed a different set of difficulties altogether. Mr. Jameson, as his instructors called him, carried a passing grade point average, but almost all of his instructors admonished Conor’s work habits. They claimed he carried a lackadaisical attitude but showed tremendous potential when he applied himself. In their student progress reports, the one characteristic that almost every one of his instructors included was a lack of focus. Conor, they said, just didn’t seem to be involved in his classes at all. Stares into space or out the window, became a frequent comment in many of his reports.

One subject, however, did intrigue and excite Conor to no end. The reports from this particular instructor noted Conor’s unique ability to complete tasks ahead of schedule, to assist other students with their assignments, and serve as a class leader for the entire semester. One item omitted from the report, but equally important to the instructor was Conor’s insatiable curiosity about the subject. The young man stayed after class quite often, questioning his teacher about this particular aspect of the lecture, or that portion of the assigned chapter.

Mathematics, for some reason that Conor could not presently fathom, became his obsession at high school. In his first year at Mountmoor, Conor impressed his math instructor so deeply that the man began testing his abilities with more difficult material. Conor responded beautifully, quite beyond his expectations. He surpassed algebra and geometry and moved to trigonometry in the second semester of his first year. He truly enjoyed the precision of mathematics. All the same, he recalled a loathing for math courses in junior high school only a year before. Something else had changed besides his physical abilities, he supposed. He only wished that other subjects held the same appeal.

In his other classes, Conor tuned out the lessons and tried his best not to look bored. He certainly wasn’t an actor, however, and soon his instructors began noticing his apathy. They called upon him frequently, hoping by embarrassment to stimulate his interest in the class. After many failed attempts, however, the instructors moved on to students who seemed interested in the subject matter.

Conor wasn’t disinterested in the classes; he just couldn’t bring himself to make time to study anything except math. When sitting in his other classes he always seemed to drift away. Sometimes he might think about Janine. Other times he might consider an upcoming competition. Mostly, however, his thoughts always returned to the Glade of Champions and the friends he had made there. He thought about all of the cats at the glade, most especially Surmitang. The big tiger saved his life, and he wondered whether the creators had rewarded him as they had Purugama. He thought also about Ajur and Eha, two huge cats so different in their qualities, yet both equally essential to the creators. And of course he thought of Purugama, whom he missed terribly. He wondered if he would ever see his fellow Champions again.

He thought about the Lady of the Light as well. He wondered where she might be and tried to imagine her present whereabouts but found he could not. Even after spending a great deal of time in her presence, he realized she was a mystery to him. He knew so little about her. He spent countless hours daydreaming about where she might be and what she might be accomplishing. He hoped her journeys proved successful, and that if they didn’t, he wanted more than anything to fight by her side. Laughing at his musings, he thought quietly to himself, she probably doesn’t even remember me.

Conor didn’t miss her in the same way he missed the big cats. Of course, he loved his brother Champions and truly missed their company. But the Lady’s mystical, majestic qualities were magnetic. He also missed her regal countenance. When he stood in her presence, he couldn’t help himself, he had to be on his best behavior. He spoke properly around her, he stood straight, maintaining good posture, he never interrupted her and most of all, he always remained perfectly respectful of her station. He could not do otherwise, so powerful was her aura. The Lady of the Light commanded the utmost esteem from the Champions of the Crossworlds. Even if he had not been ordained as one of them, he would still revere her and give his complete devotion.

Still, he pondered her existence at length. Had she always been one of the creators? If the creators recruited certain Crossworlds Champions to serve them, then might some of the creators themselves be transplants from a distant galaxy, or another dimension? Perhaps the Lady of the Light came into existence to fill a great vacuum in the realm of the creators. Possibly she completed a noble task, or a series of tasks that elevated her to be considered for the rank of creator.

Mr. Jameson, crowed his geography teacher, Ms. Bucholz. Can you tell us the state capitals for Tennessee, Virginia, and Georgia?

Tallahassee, Richmond, and Augusta? answered a bewildered Conor.

Ms. Bucholz showed no mercy. Perhaps you would care to review these and the other state capitals you gave incorrect answers for on the last quiz after school today.

Yes, Maam, replied Conor. Same time as last week?

Precisely correct, young man, and if you find this amusing, perhaps we can extend our study time together.

A soft murmur of laughter rolled around the room. Janine looked around and winked at Conor from the front row. The final bell rang and Conor quickly exited the room with the other students.

After squeezing through the door along with four other students, Conor managed to catch up to Janine. Accompanied by three friends, she sauntered down the hall with her backpack slung over one arm. She wore a dark brown skirt made of light material topped by a powder blue sweater vest. She heard Conor running up behind them in the hallway.

Same table for lunch, Janine? offered Conor before any of the girls could speak.

Sure, answered Conor’s girlfriend. Mind if a few friends come along?"

Not at all, said Conor. As long as they don’t mind watching us act like lovesick teenagers. He smiled his most spectacular smile.

Oh, God, said Janine’s friends in unison.

Nice answer in geography, Conor, quipped one of Janine’s friends. I’ll remember never to call you when I need a study partner.

Conor smiled again and ran down the hall.

At lunch Conor sat with Janine and her friends, and a few friends of his own. Their conversation typified any young high school group’s patter – gossip, games, and who’s seeing whom. The girls clung to each other in a tight, secure group. The boys tried their best to impress each other and the girls with their macho talk of fake and real achievements. The group kept their eyes on the rest of the lunch gathering. They wanted to be sure that they were the focus of others’ attentions. More importantly, they scanned the crowd intermittently looking for the upcoming groups in the school scene. They might wish to associate themselves with one or more in order to upgrade their position in the essential hierarchy of the high school social system.

Conor watched everyone. He spent a great deal of his time observing people. He looked at his friends at the table, he looked around the immediate area for any potential signs of trouble, and he scanned the entire lunch crowd looking for bizarre behavior.

Here at the high school, he witnessed the most amazing happenings. He noticed first the incessant use of cell phones. Out of over four hundred students gathered in the lunch area and quad, at least three hundred fifty were talking on cell phones. Conor never could understand the need for such technological attachments. Public phones were still available. If you needed to speak to someone that badly, a phone was always within reach. If your need wasn’t immediate, why not delay the conversation until you saw them in person? As he watched all these people yakking away on their cell phones, Conor tried to decipher why they chose to talk into a mechanical instrument when literally hundreds of opportunities for face-to-face interaction were so close at hand. He also wondered how many of these students spent their time talking on cell phones to other students in the quad. Finally he turned his head and looked at the people sitting at his own table. Five out of the eight students in his group were holding private conversations on their own cell phones. He wanted to snatch the phones out of their hands, throw them across the room and force them to converse with each other. Conor smiled at the thought; people’s habits certainly seemed strange to him.

He also observed how his fellow students played mind games with each other in order to belong to the preferred groups. So much posturing goes on here, he thought. The students who were in did their best to protect their territory and keep out undesirable students. Those who desperately desired to enter one of the prestigious groups did everything they could to impress those on the inside. It made no sense to Conor at all. All of these students had so much to offer, and yet they closed off so many of their natural gifts in order to belong to a group that retarded rather than improved their self worth.

Truth be told, Conor’s status as an athlete afforded him entry into most of the better groups in the high school. In fact, had he not excelled in track and soccer immediately, he might not have met Janine. But he certainly didn’t agree with most of the others in those groups when they lampooned other kids at school, or denied them entry into certain social gatherings. So he attended the functions he felt were mandatory and skipped the rest. He felt most at ease within his close circle of friends anyway.

After lunch, the group split up and went its separate ways. Conor walked Janine to her next class, hugged her around the waist and kissed her goodbye. She smiled and ordered him to go directly to his next class. Janine knew about Conor’s distaste for most of his academic experiences. Try as she might, she couldn’t convince him to pay attention to other subjects besides math. For his sake, it wasn’t a matter of grades so much as a matter of keeping the instructors off his back. Conor had managed to alienate every instructor except Mr. Hikkins, his math teacher. He served as his only defender during instructor conferences with school administration. Every other instructor recommended harsh punishments for that Jameson boy. Mr. Hikkins wouldn’t hear of it. Be happy the young man has attached himself to one subject at least! he would argue.

Janine felt quite pleased with Conor’s progress in mathematics. Loving him as she did, however, she constantly urged him to try and do better in his other classes. She tried to understand him and remind herself that Conor was only fourteen years old, and that his head mostly lingered a few feet below the clouds. After eight months of dating, however, she felt she understood his potential better than anyone.

Janine Cochran, sixteen years old and a junior at Mountmoor High School, stood slightly less than five feet four inches. Her sandy brown hair fell just below the small of her back. The golden brown eyes that seemed to calm everyone she caught sight of nearly caused Conor to drop his lunch on another student’s head the first time he saw her. An athlete herself, Janine kept extremely fit with her involvement in volleyball, soccer and softball at Mountmoor. She was, in the words of Conor’s friends, hot.

Janine knew that as well, but she never flaunted it. She didn’t believe she was overly attractive, just fit and pretty in a wholesome way. She could have fallen into the snotty-hotty group or the cheer group and survived high school quite nicely. For Janine, however, there had to be more than lipstick, gossip and silliness during her four years at Mountmoor.

Besides being a delightful young girl, Janine Cochran was one of the brightest students on campus. At twelve, and at her father’s urging, she took the MENSA exam and passed it the first time out. It gave her something to share with her father, whom she adored and loved to please. Her father, also a MENSA, collected his first Ph.D. in physics at age twenty. Although Janine had an older brother and a younger sister, all of her father’s brains had gone straight to her.

When she entered Mountmoor High School a little over two years ago, Janine discovered she possessed a quality that attracted the attentions of older boys. Members of the football and baseball teams approached her as she walked the down the hall, entered or exited a classroom, stood in the lunch line or hung out in the quad. She politely refused every advance, telling the boys that her parents had expressly forbidden solo dating before she could drive her own car.

Janine even tried to dress down in an effort to reject or lessen the amorous advances. Yet even the baggy sweats and oversized shirts didn’t hide her mysterious aura that the boys at school found hard to resist.

Some of the more adventurous suitors began to loiter around Janine’s house. A few left cards, flowers or notes for her on the family doorstep. One unfortunate boy climbed the stairs to chance a private conversation, only to find Janine’s father staring him down through her bedroom window.

She found it all quite amusing, really. She couldn’t remember giving any of the boys a single reason to follow her around as they did. She purposely tried to act aloof and made no gestures that might have encouraged any of them. The more she backed away, though, the more attractive the boys at school found her. She resigned herself to hanging around with her friends and focusing on her courses and team sports. Pleasing her father remained her only goal in life.

Her father had always captivated Janine for as long as she could remember. Her earliest memories were of him playing musical instruments for his three children. They would request a certain contemporary tune, and even though their father practiced mostly older jazz tunes, he would ask them to sing a little of their requests. They did, and to their eager delight, he began playing a credible version of the tune for them. The children sometimes sat for hours laughing and singing along with their father.

Janine also recalled with pride her father’s absolute command of anything analytical. Math, physics, laboratory physical sciences and computer programming all fascinated her father. He enjoyed the times his children called upon him for assistance with their school assignments. He never gave away answers; however, he just listened quietly and then asked what they thought of the problem. He might provide a subtle hint here and there, but he never solved the problem for any of his children.

This tactic drove Janine’s brother and sister out of their minds. After fifteen to twenty minutes of trying to decipher the answer, Janine’s siblings would invariably throw their work on the floor and plead with their father for the answers. The man refused their urgings. Among other things, he wanted his children to amass superior problem-solving skills along with tremendous character. He knew that one of his children was well on her way to doing just that.

Janine may not have developed the most acute set of skills at this stage of her life, but her father knew it was merely a matter of time. He deeply enjoyed watching her dissect a problem until the solution emerged. Even when stumped, Janine would come to her father for assistance with an attitude of defiance. She wanted to figure out the formula and complete the problem herself. She only came to her father for guidance and a nudge in the right direction.

Her father always gave just the right amount of mental line until she hooked herself. Then he allowed Janine to reel herself in with the solution in hand. He particularly adored the persistence Janine showed when confronted by a difficult equation or pattern of logic she couldn’t quite master. The girl possessed a stubborn drive for solving problems that he recognized only in himself. He loved all of his children deeply, but in this respect Janine was something special.

Perhaps this was the reason why she became attracted to Conor soon after he came to Mountmoor. Besides an almost inhuman wizardry on the soccer field, she had heard about his mathematical prowess in the classroom. She felt intrigued by a ninth grader who might challenge her in both a physical and mental contest.

She gave Conor a decent amount of time to make the first move. She even gave him more than a few signs that she found him interesting. When Conor almost accidentally dumped his lunch on Denny Burton’s head, she kept her cool while everyone in the lunchroom laughed uproariously. After all, he lost his feet primarily because of the smile she threw at him. After many weeks of waiting, Janine decided she had better approach Conor herself.

After soccer practice one day, Janine made sure that she and Conor left their respective teams at the same time. As the outdoor field complex was quite large, this provided her with plenty of time for casual contact.

Nice practice, today? she asked as she sidled up next to Conor and one of his teammates.

Conor looked over at Janine and lost his breath for a second. Then he did the only thing his body would allow. He smiled a big, toothy smile.

I said, she continued, did you have a nice practice today? I noticed you scored three goals.

You watched our practice? asked Conor, finally finding his voice. Weren’t you practicing as well?

Yes, replied Janine. But I’m not our team’s star player, so I get a lot of time to observe.

I’m hardly the star player, said Conor, flushing. I’m only a freshman, and coach uses me on the scout team mostly.

Scout team members don’t usually make the first team look that foolish, replied Janine. I think you better be ready to play first team by the time the season starts.

Conor was just about to ask Janine her name, when he suddenly recalled her face. Say, said Conor with a sparkle in his eyes. Haven’t I seen you around the lunchroom?

I’ll say, said Conor’s teammate. You just about dumped your lunch in her lap one day.

And that’s how it began. Janine had to pursue a few more casual meetings before Conor finally asked her to a pizza party with his friends. After that came a few movies together, some awkward dinners, and then the first meeting with Janine’s parents. On that evening, Conor arrived late to find Janine’s father waiting on the front porch, very tall and very determined.

The dinner went well. Conor promptly swept the man off his feet with a discussion of game theory, a mathematical strategy program recently introduced to him at school by Mr. Hikkins. Of course, Janine’s father instantly became interested and wanted to know the particulars about the field of study. As soon as dinner concluded, he whisked Conor off to his study to continue their discussion.

Janine fell hopelessly in love that night. The feelings she thought she might someday have for Conor washed over her like a warm wave of soft honey. As she watched Conor converse with her father she grasped the potential within the young man; and as she witnessed her father become engrossed with Conor, her defenses left her completely. She stared at him as if no one else existed in the entire world. Someday I’m going to marry Conor Jameson, she thought.

When Mr. Cochran finally released Conor back into his daughter’s custody, she walked him to the front door and thanked him for coming to dinner. Then, as he extended his arm for a brief hug, Janine pushed away his hand, placed her own hand firmly but lovingly around the back of his neck and kissed him passionately. When they broke away from the kiss, each of them gazed into the other’s eyes for a long moment. Then with bashful smiles, they said their goodnights and Janine closed the door. Conor walked home without sensing a single step.

When the news about Janine Cochran finally dating a boy hit the high school gossip circuit, a lengthy stream of potential suitors couldn’t wait to see who had won her affections. When the answer became clear and the boys at Mountmoor learned that it was Conor Jameson, most of them dropped their jaws in shock. Some of them wrote it off as a strange girl picking a peculiar boy, someone less desirable than themselves. Denny Burton took it as a personal insult. It seemed bad enough that she picked a freshman over a junior. But to choose a soccer player over the football team’s first-string tight end, well, that simply had to be addressed.

A few things happened when Conor and Janine’s relationship became an established fact at Mountmoor. First, all of the other boys stopped bothering Janine with their romantic schemes. Second, many of the school’s prettier girls began to