The Parallel Conspiracy: A Mystery Adventure of Alternate Worlds

By Richard Lori

The plot is lively, full of adventure...—IndieReader

He’s trapped in a new world. She wants answers. One mystery could unravel the universe...

John Fuller doesn’t have much going for him. An unhappy marriage and an unfulfilling job weigh on him every single day. When he wakes up in a parallel universe where nobody knows him, he becomes embroiled in a conspiracy to disrupt the course of humanity.

Sue’s father changed everything with a machine that unlocked a gateway to parallel worlds. Sue’s sense of wonder turns to dread when her father is killed. She’ll do anything to find out why.

As Sue and John come together to find answers, they’ll discover a future neither of them believed was possible...

The Parallel Conspiracy is an action-packed standalone sci-fi novel. If you like mysterious twists and turns, nail-biting action, characters that make you cheer, and a touch of romance, then you’ll love Richard Paul Lori’s unique thrill-ride.

Buy The Parallel Conspiracy to travel the multiverse today!

Author Interview:

Q: What makes The Parallel Conspiracy different from other science fiction novels?

A: I think it’s different in that it’s a very character driven story. Most science fiction novels are plot driven. While the Parallel Conspiracy’s plot is very intense and a seat-of-your-pants adventure, it’s really the characters that grip you the most as they work their way through the mystery they have to solve. Although there is lots of friction and a romantic triangle develops between the main characters, they ultimately grow as individuals and as a group from the experience. It's also a unique blend of mystery, action-adventure and romance all rolled into a high tech science fiction novel. I think this combination also sets it apart from other sci-fi thrillers you'll read

Q: Speaking of characters, you have some very strong female lead characters in the book. Did you find that aspect a challenge to write?

A: While I suppose it’s easier for a man to write male characters and the opposite goes for women authors, I didn’t really focus on gender differences that much. I did of course have some. You have too. What I concentrated on more though was the unique emotional state of each character; how they would grow through the intense, life and death experiences they continue to be pushed into throughout the novel.

Q: The setting of the novel takes place in several parallel universes. How did you decide on the ones you did?

A: With an infinite number of alternate universes to choose from, it wasn’t easy. While this isn’t a time travel novel in the traditional sense, I thought it would be more interesting to have each alternate universe our heroes travel to on different timelines. I’m a history buff so wanted to include an era that I always had an interest in, the Roman Empire. To contrast this and the other parallel universes of the past, I decided to have one that was on a much faster timeline and was more advanced than ours. This contrast between the different universes drives the plot and provides lots of twists and turns.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Lori
• Release date: Oct 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9780988474116

Richard Lori

Richard Lori has immersed himself in technology for over thirty-five years, first as a hobbyist in Amateur Radio and then with a career in computers and networking. He has worked in diverse industries including the computer service, telecommunications, urethane manufacturing and real estate industries. He has a Bachelor of Arts degree from Carthage College and has certifications in computer repair, networking and security.Rich was born in Kenosha, Wisconsin, where he has remained a life-long resident. He is married to his wife, Debbie, and is “Pappaw” to five grandchildren. When he is not writing in his spare time, he is gardening, reading or staying up to date with the latest technology podcasts. He is also a member of a non-profit group that is working towards the restoration of the historic Kenosha Theatre.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

John Fuller sat on the clammy jail floor, straining his mind to solve the puzzle. How in the hell did he end up here? Even in the dark reality of the cell, the whole thing seemed nightmarish. He’d gone out to buy Coke and had ended up here, after getting lost, misplacing his car and breaking into a house. 

In his wildest dreams, John could never have imagined being charged with breaking and entering and assaulting an officer. He widened his eyes as he thought of his wife’s reaction. What will Rita say about this? His heart raced faster. Oh my God: What will mother think!

His entire life, he’d avoided confrontation. He’d backed away from many schoolyard fights before the fists began flying. It was ludicrous that they could accuse him of assaulting an officer. Yes, he’d knocked the police detective to the ground, but it hadn’t been out of malice towards the officer. He’d just panicked, and the detective had been in his way.

Had he broken into a house? Well . . . yes, but it was his own house. At least he’d thought so at the time. Now he wasn’t so sure. If it had been his house, where was Rita? Why hadn’t she been in the home where they’d lived for the past four years? Even the furniture was different, and another man was living there. In his house!

Then there was his mother. He’d tried calling her from the police station after discovering his own number was out of service. But some strange woman kept answering. It was definitely his mother’s number that he dialed. Hell, he knew it better than his own cell phone number! She’d had that same number his entire life. Yet that same old woman kept answering.

The strangest part, though, was meeting his next-door neighbor, Virginia. She didn’t know who he was. He could explain away all the other bizarre occurrences that had happened to him in the last few hours, but not this. 

He’d seen Virginia nearly every day since moving to the neighborhood. He was positive it was her. She was the only neighbor Rita liked on the whole block, and they’d become friends. Why had Virginia insisted that she didn’t know him?

Even his driver’s license and credit cards weren’t recognized: the police computers said there was no such person. Of course there was a John Fuller. It was him! 

His hand drifted up to the swelling on his forehead, and he winced with pain as he brushed the tender lump. Having banged the same spot several times, maybe he should question his own sanity. Maybe he was suffering from amnesia due to the multiple blows. But he hadn’t forgotten who he was. He knew he was John Fuller. He had the driver’s license to prove it. Unless the police were right and it really was a fake. In his injured state, could he have fabricated an entire life around a fake ID? 

John looked down at his ink-stained fingers and shivered, not knowing whether he was chilled by the room or his thoughts. He let his hands drop back into his lap, almost certain that the life he remembered was his own. It was just a matter of trying to figure out at what point things had changed. When was it that his life had gone off the rails and what had caused it? He thought back through the events that led up to his imprisonment. There had to be some small clue he’d missed earlier. 

The mystery had started during his earlier drive to buy Rita’s Coke. She drank all that was in the house and then blamed him. Everything seemed to be his fault during their five-year marriage, but he’d learned to just live with it. He avoided arguing with her. Mostly, he didn’t fight back at all. Today, he’d simply left to get the cola. He was glad to get away from the argument anyway. However, his thoughts were too absorbed in the fight to concentrate on where he was heading. He’d been driving in the rain for some time before he realized he was lost. Lost on a road whose path had led his life into this current, uncharted territory. 

CHAPTER 1

Six Hours Earlier . . .

I must have missed my turn-off, John muttered to himself as he continued to drive through the blur of the pouring rain.

He searched for a road sign or landmark while the wipers slapped back and forth to clear the glass. He could see he was on a rustic stretch of highway with imposing woods on either side. Sporadically, muddy drives led to distant manors buried within the woodland.

I don’t recognize anything around here. I’d better turn around.

John pressed the brake harder and spun the wheel in his hands to make a U turn. The road wasn’t wide enough, though, and he felt the car lurch sideways. The front tire skidded off the muddy shoulder, plunging into the grass-stippled marsh of the swollen gully.

Damn it! cursed John. He yanked the wheel sideways, but it was too late.

He slammed the gearshift into first then applied slight pressure to the accelerator, hoping to ease up the embankment. The car pulsed to life but went nowhere. The tire was too far off the edge. He tried with more and more pressure until his foot was mashed to the floorboard. Mud arced across the ditch and the car entrenched itself deeper in the mire. The vehicle wouldn’t budge, so he released the pedal.

Shit, I’ll have to get a tow truck. 

John turned off the ignition and pulled his cell phone from his sports jacket. He punched several buttons, but nothing happened. The battery was dead. He never used the damn thing anyway. Rita had insisted that he have it, but it was only so she could keep tabs on him. Cursing himself under his breath for not charging it, he opened the door and exited into the chilling fog of rain to find a phone to use.

*****

Sue Manders leaned forward in the large, overstuffed chair, her deep blue eyes poring over the television screen. A contrived smile bloomed on the weatherperson’s face, despite her describing terrible storms in the forecast. The woman’s hands moved with the energy of a pixie as they indicated the movement of the storms on the red-blotted map. Her narration of the horrible destruction it had caused in the areas already hit became surreal with the perkiness of her voice. Sue, however, was not perky. The severity of the storms and the direction they were moving created quite the opposite emotion.

She snapped at the cheerful face on the screen, Lady, you wouldn’t act so happy if the damn things were heading your way.

Sue hated thunderstorms, and the line of those advancing looked to be awful. She also didn’t like people who act fake. The woman’s insincerity and clichéd commentary led to simultaneous irritation and fear in Sue as she continued to listen to the forecast.

Eventually, Sue jammed the button on the remote control and grinned when the woman faded to blackness. Looking out the windows for any signs of the impending squall, she saw the deep violet light of the setting sun and a drizzling rain that was beginning to thicken. When she stopped scanning outside, she looked at the small table next to her and the novel she’d been reading. She took it into her hands, the corner of her mouth turning up. Reading always made her forget any worries. She opened the book to its mark and snuggled into the soft chair.

After several pages, a chime rang out and Sue turned her head towards the door, the deep blackness of her loose-curled hair swirling over her face. Looking out the bank of front windows, she saw her Uncle Bob’s car parked in the driveway. He’d been visiting more often in the last month since her father had died.

She laid the bookmark in as she closed the book and carefully returned it to its place on the table. While she walked to the door, a slight smile blossomed on her face. It grew to a huge grin when she opened it and saw her uncle standing there.

Robert Humboldt returned her smile, the sagging plumpness of his face presenting a much more jovial appearance than he ever could with the well-chiseled face of his youth.

Hello, my dear, he said. He leaned towards her for a hug, the fine cloth of his suit shimmering as the dampened material reflected the evening light.

Hi, Uncle Bob, Sue said, hugging his soggy torso and placing a light peck on his moist cheek. Come in out of the rain.

Linking arms, she led him into the living room, his every movement showing an air of importance despite his slowing stride and widening frame. Uncle Bob seated himself in the chair Sue had just vacated, so she continued to the couch. Once he settled his black-peppered, gray head into the chair, he suddenly leaned forward, pulling something from his pocket.

Before I forget, I brought you some of the latest lab data, he said as he handed her a computer memory card.

He’d been bringing these to her occasionally, along with other items, such as books and scientific papers. These were only excuses to visit and check on her though. He was using whatever devices he could to make sure she was all right. Because of this, in the month since her father had died, they’d become very close again, almost as close as they’d been when she was a little girl.

Thank you, she said, accepting the memory card. Any new developments on the project since the last update?

Not too much. Dr. Philips has run some further tests using various energy to mass ratios, but he’s too damned afraid to make any significant modifications without you there, he said, with a scowl. 

His expression changed, and the corner of his mouth turned up. It’s probably best anyway. He’d only muck things up without you or Manny around.

Manny was what Bob had called Sue’s father, Dr. Henry Manders. The two men had been the closest of friends in their younger days, as devoted as any two brothers. Likewise, although there was no blood relation between them, Sue considered Bob her uncle in every way. She was closer to him than her only blood uncle, a man she barely knew.

Sue gave a halfhearted laugh over his remark but could feel the guilt rise for neglecting her responsibilities. She and her father had headed up a major project at Gladstone Industries, but she’d been away from the lab for the past month.

Sue had followed in her father’s footsteps and had become a physicist. While still in school, she’d developed a theory about parallel universes and the ability to transfer energy between them. The notion that there were parallel universes had been around for many years. Although physicists still contested the exact nature of these universes, they generally accepted that they existed. Sue had developed equations to demonstrate that when matter transfers from this universe to another, an equal amount of energy transfers back from the other universe. The key was to refine this transfer to use minimal power and to hold a gateway open so that energy could continue to flow back. Once they’d perfected a device to do this, it would be possible to obtain unlimited power.

Sue’s father had worked out a practical way of performing the matter transfer while working at Gladstone. However, because of the enormous expense of developing hardware, his superiors at the company had decided not to pursue the project. That was when Sue and her father had approached Bob. He was Assistant Director of the Department of Atomic Projects, or DAP as it was known, and they wanted him to help get government funding for the project. Bob put his neck out to get the initial funding, then several more times to keep the money coming until they perfected the device. Her absence was not furthering the development. In fact, it was making it more difficult for Bob, who had to justify a project that wasn’t producing results yet.

He must have sensed her thoughts because he said, Don’t worry, Sue. Everything’s still on schedule. These tests would’ve needed to be done at some point anyway, and it isn’t important for you to be there while they take place. Once we get all the data collected, we can make the changes you and Manny wanted to try.

You say that, but I can’t help feeling guilty about not being there. I know how much you put on the line for the project. You’ve done so much for Dad and me, and I’m just being selfish. 

Sue couldn’t look him in the eye and focused instead on twisting the corner of the pillow lying between her and the end of the couch.

Bob let out a soft snort. You feel guilty? My dear, you have no reason to feel guilty. I know how much your father meant to you. He was your whole world. You take all the time you want. Besides, if anyone should feel guilty, it’s me.

Sue looked up from the pillow and saw he was almost in tears. She’d never seen him look this way before. He was the strongest-willed and most powerful man she’d ever known. Even at her father’s funeral, he hadn’t cried. Despite his great sorrow, he was the rock that she’d leaned on. Now he looked so tired, broken and sick, he appeared to have aged a decade in the last month. He seemed more vulnerable than she ever thought possible.

What do you mean? Why should you feel guilty? she asked.

His death was all my fault, he said, his head dropping down.

It wasn’t, Sue insisted. How can you say that?

I should’ve never gotten involved in this whole mess in the first place. I shouldn’t have gotten the funding for the project. If I hadn’t, Manny would still be alive today. Once I did get the funding, I shouldn’t have . . . His words trailed off, and he let out a deep breath, his very soul seeming to deflate. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. I’m so sorry, Sue.

What are you talking about? she said in a soft voice. Dad and I both asked you to help. That’s why you did it. And because this project is so important. Her voice strengthened as she said, You know as well as I do that when we get this working, we’ll have a source of free and limitless energy. It’ll change the world forever.

I know, I know, he said. We’ve been held hostage by the oil-producing countries for too long. If we can get this going, we’ll be able to tell them and the rest of the world to go to hell. That would almost make this whole damnable mess worthwhile. But Manny dying for it . . .

I know Dad never expected to lose his life over this, but it was an accident. A stupid, senseless accident. I’ve tried to make some sense of why he died, some reason, but there is none, and that’s the worst part of it. To be electrocuted on a control panel he’d wired himself makes no sense at all.

I know, Sue, it shouldn’t have happened, Bob said, nodding in agreement. He shouldn’t have been there so late at night by himself either. I should’ve never allowed something like that to happen. I should’ve demanded tighter security on that room and not let anyone in there after hours by themselves. That’s why I feel so damned responsible.

Well, you shouldn’t. Dad always preached to me about not working alone in the lab, and I can’t understand why he would. I don’t know what he was thinking. Sue frowned. It wasn’t like him. Maybe it had become so important to him that he was willing to take risks like working on that panel by himself. I don’t know, I’ve talked myself in circles the last month, and I still can’t figure out why he would’ve done something like that.

Sue, you have to believe that I never would’ve allowed him to take any chance, no matter how important this project is to our country and to mankind. He leaned forward and took her hands into his. His baritone voice strengthening, he said, I’d gladly sacrifice hundreds or thousands to complete what we’ve started, but never Manny or you. You’re the only family I have.

As he said this, Sue felt him return to his commanding self. His words unsettled her though. She wasn’t sure what he meant, and was about to ask when he said, The world be damned! There’s nothing more important than you, and what you need now is time, time to get over the grief and time to relax.

The worry and fatigue lifted from his face. Nobody knows better how hard you and Manny were working; the late hours, the weekends. Anyone in your shoes would’ve broken long before. You’re only human, my dear, and you just need to relax and recuperate now.

She tightened her grip on his hands. Thank you for being so understanding, but I do need to get back to work soon.

He let go of her hands and said in a stern tone, "Nonsense. I won’t hear of it. I don’t want to see you back in that lab for at least another month. I know Philips isn’t the brightest, but he is capable of conducting the remaining tests we need. It’ll take almost that long to complete them and compile the data anyway."

All right, all right, I give up, she said, waving an imaginary white flag in the air. She relented, as she always did, when Bob got a full head of steam up. Besides, he was right. Philips was more than capable of conducting the tests. At least let me help compile the data though. Philips never does it the way I like it, and it never makes sense to anyone but him.

Okay. I’ll give you remote access so you can log in from here. But I’ll only do it if you promise me something.

Sue sighed and rolled her eyes in mock disgust. And what would that be?

Bob again took her hands in his. You have to promise it’ll only be a few hours a day. I don’t want you overworking yourself again. Promise?

Okay, I can agree to that. I promise.

Bob released her hands while his eyes darted down to his watch. Damn, I need to leave. I wish I could stay a little longer, but I have an important dinner meeting to get to.

Sue, pretending to scold him, said, And what was this about overworking?

I know, dear. I’m just as guilty as you ever were. I guess that’s why we get along so well.

Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer? 

I’m sorry, dear, I wish I could.

As they rose, she again linked arms with him and escorted him to the door. After opening it, she grabbed onto him in a tight hug.

I love you, she said, tears welling up in her eyes. Her mind flashed back to when she was a little girl and how Uncle Bob had always spoiled her. Sue used to think of him as a second father then and now did again. He was the only father she had left. She held him, not wanting to let go.

He hugged back with one arm and stroked the dark curls of her hair with the other. He said in almost a whisper, I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.

When Sue released him, he whirled around and said goodbye without looking back, disappearing into the blackness of the pouring rain.

As Sue wiped her eyes, she said, Goodbye, Uncle Bob.

She looked over at one of the wicker porch chairs. She thought about sitting outside for a bit to watch the rain as she and her father had often done. Instead, she turned, knowing it would only make his absence worse. When she closed the door, a low rumble echoed off in the distance, signaling that the advancing storm would soon gain strength.

*****

John trudged up the road with his head down, keeping the wind-whipped rain from his eyes. His sports jacket snapped around like a flag clinging desperately to its pole in a gale. After walking for a time, he saw a car pulling out of a driveway a hundred feet or so ahead. He waved his arms to signal the driver, but the vehicle turned in the opposite direction. John was most likely invisible to them in the darkness of the rainy night. 

He continued walking until he came to the driveway the car had come from, the gravel path having turned into a sea of puddling mud. At the end of the several-hundred-foot drive, he could just make out the glowing windows of a large, old farmhouse. Even though the car had driven off, the lights made it obvious that someone was still home. Hopefully, the owner would let him use the phone. He headed towards the house, weaving back and forth like a drunken man to avoid the scattered pools of muddy water.

As the rain intensified and the visibility worsened, the lights of the house were no longer visible. Even so, he continued on, knowing it would lead him to his objective. A blinding flash filled his eyes, and a crack of thunder boomed out as a bolt of lightning struck somewhere nearby. As darkness descended once more, there was a glimpse of someone ahead before the last glimmer of light faded. His heart lifting with help near, he began jogging in the direction of the person, calling out, Hey! Hey! 

When another burst of light lit the path, there was clearly a man ahead. John picked up the pace of his run, his feet getting soaked as he splashed uncaring through the thick puddles. When he drew close, he called out again, Excuse me! Can you help me?

The man heard this time and turned as John came to a stop alongside him. In the darkness, he couldn’t get a clear look at the man, but he must have been in the downpour for some time too. His navy blue jacket, which was soaked with rain, clung to his muscular body, and his light-colored hair was matted to his head.  With another flash of lightning, John caught a mere glimpse of the man’s maniacal face before he yelled out above the din of the storm, Help you? I’ll help kill you!

The man lunged at John, fists striking several hard punches before knocking him backward. The first blows went unfelt as the complete shock of what was happening sank in. With no time to reason, instinct took hold, and John threw his arms out to catch himself while he tumbled to the ground. He slipped as he scrambled to get away, and the man pounced on him, forcing him to change from flight to fight.

The man clutched John’s throat as he landed, the iron grip cutting off his air. John grasped the other man’s wrists and pried at them to free himself, but he was unable to do so with the attacker’s greater strength. The man was choking him to death! 

His head swimming from the suffocation and his mind racing with his looming death, the unbreakable pressure on his esophagus suddenly ceased. John gasped for air with the peak of his adrenaline surge, and he spun to his knees, eyes wide, his heart racing. When he saw what had caused the change of events, his pulse eased: another man had come to his rescue, forcing the attacker to retreat.

John remained kneeling while the rush of fear-induced strength declined and weakness set in, his own hands now grasping his nearly crushed throat.

His rescuer called to him, Are you all right?

Yeah, John replied hoarsely, a crack of thunder nearly drowning out the sound of his voice.

As he began to breathe with more ease, he looked up. The assailant was renewing his attack! This time, though, he lunged at the man who’d come to his defense. Caught off guard by the sudden advance, the charging man tackled the other and drove him into John. When his head snapped back from the plummeting man, John became dizzy and felt himself falling but not hitting the ground.

When an enormous wave of nausea bowled over him, he was ready to vomit. John couldn’t feel the ground below or the fallen men on top. They must have broken his neck! An injury like that being fatal, he gave in to death as his consciousness faded.

*****

John stirred. Mud shifted below his body and squished through his fingers. He snapped into a sitting position as he became fully aware. He looked through the rain across the darkened landscape surrounding him. He was still sitting in the drive of the farmhouse and was neither dead nor paralyzed. 

After several more flashes in the sky, he saw he was alone, the other two men probably leaving him for dead. His heart skittered as the memory of the beating and rescue came back to him. Why had the first man attacked him? John had done nothing to provoke him, so apparently, he’d been mistaken for someone else. Could the second man be the key? Had the attacker mistaken John for him and that was why he’d attacked? At this point, the details weren’t important to him. Whenever John hadn’t been able to run from the bullies in school, he’d just lay there until the beating was over and then walk away. He felt the same way now. He could just move on and forget it.

The rain subsided, and he again saw the lights of the house. He lurched to his feet and stumbled in its direction. When he neared the front porch steps, a massive boom peeled out while a simultaneous flash lit the sky. Still rattled from the fight, he shot forward in a panicked sprint. The dizziness he still felt made him stumble on the first porch step and plummet forward. His forehead thumped hard against the edge of an upper step, causing stars to flash before his eyes for several seconds. The pain inside his skull intensified, but, even so, he remained conscious while blood mixed with water started to flow into his left eye.

When his head cleared a bit, John crawled up the steps and pulled himself onto the porch, exhausted and out of breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, his mind in a heavy fog. When he opened them, he looked around, trying to figure out where he was. His gaze landed on several wicker chairs over to the side of the porch. He thought about sitting in one but instead stumbled his way to the door, knowing he needed refuge more than rest. He used a burst of strength to lift his arm and ring the bell, but with the storm renewing its vigor, he couldn’t hear if the chime had sounded. He opened the screen door and gave the entry door a pound with his fist. With this last effort draining him, he passed out in a heap against the door from the sharp pain boring into his skull.

*****

Sue was huddled in her chair, fidgeting as she watched the weather report on the television. She was now oblivious to the commentator’s insincere behavior, focusing instead on the red-blotted map of the radar display. 

The storm was the strongest in recent history: heavy rains and high winds with several funnel clouds having already touched down in the city. The lights had gone out several times only to come back on again after a few seconds. She had flashlight and candles ready if they went out permanently and was equally ready to bolt for the basement should the tornado sirens start blaring. If the irritating commentator were right, it would be a long night.

Sue had never liked thunderstorms. As a child, she’d crawl into bed with her father, hiding under the covers and pressing tightly to his side. She’d try her best to sneak in and not wake him, but she always did. He’d try to soothe her into going back to her own room but, when she thought back, she couldn’t remember a single time he’d succeeded. He always allowed her to stay huddled next to him for security. She wondered what he’d say about the fear that gripped her now.

A bright flash and resounding explosion of a nearby lightning strike made her jump to her feet. Her efforts to remain calm were startled again by the chime of the doorbell, followed by a loud thud. She wasn’t expecting anyone, so she froze in place. 

She called out in a cracking voice, Who’s there? When there was no answer, she called louder. Is anyone there?

Again, there was no answer. Already on edge from the storm, tears filled her eyes. She was alone and scared but determined not to give in to it. She rushed to her father’s study and to an antique, double-barreled shotgun in his cabinet. The hundred-year-old firearm had been her great-grandfather’s, which he passed down to her father. To her knowledge, it had been fired fewer than a dozen times in the last twenty years, twice by her.

Sue clutched the cool steel and removed it from the cabinet, feeling her father’s presence with its touch. Although he’d shown her its workings, she fumbled with it a moment before breaking open the breech and sliding the grooved, red shells into place. She locked it back with a solid click.

Walking back to the door with the added defense, she dried her eyes on the way. She called out, I’ve got a gun in here. Go away.

Sue raised the shotgun and unlocked the door as quietly as she could. Turning the knob, the door flew towards her, assisted by the wind and the weight of a motionless man. As she jumped backward, she tried to keep the gun trained on the man but soon realized he wasn’t conscious. Sue lowered the gun and stepped closer. What was wrong with him? Even through all the mud, a bloody gash on his forehead was evident. 

As the wind whipped spatters of mist into Sue’s eyes, she looked over and the door was still open. She stood the gun in the corner and dragged the man’s limp body farther into the hall. After she’d heaved him in far enough, she muscled the door closed against the force of the heavy gale. Although leery of the man, he was still unmoving and needed her help. She ran to the kitchen and came back with some towels and a bowl of water, then washed the smeared dirt and blood from his face to get a better look. The more mud she swabbed away, the more questions arose in her mind about what had caused the man’s battered state. 

After cleaning much of the dirt away, his face was more visible. He was kind of cute, actually. Certainly not the look a hardened criminal who’d been in and out of jail would have. He had far too innocent an appearance to be someone like that. His cheeks were chubby and child-like.

The man started to stir and opened his eyes. He snapped them shut right away but re-opened them and squinted at the harsh light burning in the living room beyond.

What happened to you? Sue asked while she continued to dab at the wounds. Did you get in a fight with someone?

I . . . I don’t know, croaked the man, as he looked at her through barely opened eyes.

This cut looks pretty nasty. It’s bleeding quite a bit, but I think I can stop it.

Who are you? the man asked, trying to sit up.

Just lay back and take it easy for a while, she said, handing him a towel. Here, put this under your head.

He did as she asked, but his agitation was apparent. Who are you and where am I?

My name is Sue Manders, and you’re in my house, she said, giving his wound a last dab as she finished cleaning it. Here, hold this on your forehead to stop the bleeding. She handed him another towel and sat back on her folded legs.

The man took the towel and pressed it against his head. He winced in pain at first but held it there anyway. 

How did I get here?

I really don’t know. When I answered the door, you just fell in.

I was at your door?

Yeah.

What was I doing there?

I have no idea. You rang my doorbell, then pounded on the door.

All I remember is walking in the rain, he said, starting to get up, his eyes straining shut when he fell back.

I told you to lay there for a minute, Sue scolded.

Okay, Okay. I remember walking on a muddy road, but that’s it.

Why were you walking on a night like this? Sue asked. She still wasn’t sure she should trust the man. For all she knew, he fell on her porch while trying to break into the house. She examined him again and decided this probably wasn’t the case. Burglars usually don’t wear sports jackets.

I don’t know why I was walking, he replied. Everything’s kind of hazy.

Can you, at least, remember your name?

John Fuller, he said, starting to shiver, water dripping from his clothes with each shake.

You want a hot drink to help you warm up, John? Do you like tea?

Sure, that’d be fine.

Sue went to the kitchen and filled her teapot with water. After putting it on the stove and lighting the flame beneath it, she went back to the hall. John had his eyes closed and appeared asleep. The old shotgun was still lying where she left it so she picked it up. Snapping the breach open, she unloaded it while she walked back to her father’s office. There was no need for a gun. The man didn’t look like a burglar, nor did he seem the type to be a murderer or rapist.

 When Sue walked back into the foyer, the lightning, which had quieted down for a time, started back in force. A loud crack woke John with a start. His eyes snapped open, and his body shot into a sitting position.

The storm! he exclaimed.

I don’t like them either, she said, crouching next to him.

The thunder seeming to prompt his memory, he said, I was driving, and my car slid into a ditch.

Oh, okay. That’s probably how you got that bump on your head.

No, I don’t think so, he said, leaning his back against the wall.

"Maybe you were running to get out of the rain and fell then. You are all muddy."

I . . . I suppose, but I’m not really sure, he said with a frown.

The bump on his head might be more serious than she first thought if he had no memory of how he got here. As she continued to ponder the mystery, the kettle whistled, and she returned to the kitchen. 

Sue pulled a packet of vanilla chai from a box tucked back on the counter and removed the bag from its wrapper. She poured the steaming water into a cup, doused the teabag and sprinkled in sugar. When she spun around to go back though, John was already standing in the kitchen doorway.

What are you doing? she asked, narrowing her eyes at his wavering stance.

My back was starting to hurt sitting on the floor. I took my shoes off though so I wouldn’t track mud everywhere. See? He pulled a foot from the floor and held it towards her like a child might show an adult when they’d done something to be proud of. He stood there, wobbling, for a moment, almost falling before dropping his foot back to the floor.

Should you be standing up?

Yeah, I’m all right. He pointed to his forehead. The bleeding stopped too.

Well, you still don’t look too steady. Sit down over here, she said, pointing to a stool by the counter. She put the tea down in front of him.

*****

John grasped the hot cup in both hands, trying to warm his whole body with the heat it radiated. He felt chilled to the bones and could sense the liquid’s warmth flowing into his stomach when he drank it.

Hey, this is delicious. I thought you were giving me tea, he said.

It is tea, but with spices added. It’s called chai. That one has vanilla flavor in it too. You’re supposed to make it with milk, but the water was quicker to heat up.

That’s okay. I like it a lot. 

As he took another sip of the spicy drink, his grandmother came to mind. His mother and Nana hadn’t gotten along as far back as he could remember. From the stories his mother told, she hadn’t gotten along with Nana even as a child, and it only worsened once she grew up. Because of this, John didn’t see Nana much when she was still alive. When he did, though, she would always make what she said was her special drink for her special boy, hot chocolate with vanilla, nutmeg and a hint of cinnamon. While he enjoyed the drink, most of the special feeling came from being with Nana. He’d only been allowed to visit her a few times before she died, but those rare visits were the happiest of his childhood memories. 

Not having taken in the sights of the house before, John looked around the kitchen. It was a hundred-year-old farmhouse, but a few modern features narrated periods of updating. Honey-colored maple cabinets reaching the high ceiling covered the walls. The marble counter had a white, antique sink mounted in the middle of its run. He wasn’t sure if it was original to the kitchen, but it looked new. There wasn’t a stain or dust speck to be seen anywhere on its surface. A similar standard of cleanliness was evident on the countertop and the blonde maple floor. From what he could see of the dining room, the rest of the house was as clean and well-furnished as the kitchen.

As he looked around, John wished his own house were like this. When he and Rita started to look at homes to buy, he’d tried to convince her to purchase an older style Victorian, a similar era to this house. With their multicolored trim, intricate moldings, thrusting turrets and majestic rooflines, he’d always loved their character and sense of history. Whenever he entered an old home, he’d imagine what it was like when it was new and how the owners would have it decorated. He’d also think about the generations that had lived there and what their lives would be like back in those simpler, happier times.

Rita hated older homes and said they were broken down dumps that should be torn down to build new. He’d tried to explain his feelings to her, but she laughed and said he was idiotic for thinking such thoughts. He eventually gave in to her, as always, and never mentioned it again. That was when they bought the cookie-cutter ranch-style house they lived in now. He hated it then and had never been comfortable in it since.

Now that John was becoming more aware of his surroundings, he couldn’t help but notice Sue as she reached into the box for another teabag. She wasn’t tall enough to reach the mugs in the cupboard without standing on tiptoe. As she grabbed a cup, he noted the black hair that curled down her back, almost reaching her slender waist. The jeans she wore clung tightly to her ample hips and thighs. 

 You have a nice house, he said.

Thank you, she said while she poured hot water into another cup for herself.

When she turned to him with a cup of tea in hand, his eyes traveled up to her pretty, round face and met the most exquisitely beautiful, deep blue eyes he’d ever seen. They mesmerized him. Sue’s face flushed with the scrutiny he was giving her. She asked, Would you like another cup of tea?

No, thanks, he said, blushing as well, his eyes shooting back down into his cup while he took another nervous sip.

Sue sat on the opposite side of the counter, her eyes absorbed in her own teacup. John felt embarrassed for having her catch him staring at her but realized that he couldn’t help himself. 

Sue was the kind of woman he’d always been attracted to but was too afraid to ask on a date. Pretty women, in particular, had always intimidated him, so he rarely interacted with them, let alone asked them out. Sue’s kindness to him so far and the extreme circumstances of their meeting had numbed his nerves. If only he were still single and worthy of someone like her, but he was neither.

*****

For reasons she couldn’t explain, Sue felt attracted to John. What was even more surprising, though, was the ease with which she sat here. This strange man had fallen in her front door less than a half-hour before and yet she wasn’t fearful of him. She’d always been uncomfortable around men she didn’t know, but he seemed less threatening somehow.

Sue glanced at him for a moment then snapped her eyes back to her cup. He was still mud-spattered, which made him seem less intimidating, vulnerable in fact. Along with the mud, the boyishness of his light brown hair and plump face made her fight an urge to drag him upstairs and immerse him in a bath of sudsy water. She smiled at the image, and when she looked at him again, she started to giggle. The puzzled expression he gave her only made her laugh harder.

John smiled back. What’s so funny?

She calmed herself and stopped laughing. I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s just all that mud in your hair. You look like a little boy that’s been out making mud pies or something. It’s kind of cute.

Sue stood up. Come on upstairs, and you can wash it out. I’m sure it doesn’t feel too great. She started towards the kitchen door.

Thanks, John said, standing and following. I’d love to clean up.

CHAPTER 2

As John continued to sit on the hard jail cell floor pondering the last few hours of his life, the corner of his mouth turned up as he thought of Sue. With all she’d done for him, she was probably the kindest woman he’d ever known. If only he’d met her in college instead of Rita. His life would’ve been far different. But even if they’d met years before, it wouldn’t have mattered. He wasn’t good enough for someone like her, now or back then.

One of his fellow inmates coughed, rousing him from his contemplation. John looked around the cell. They’d thrown him into a thirty-by-thirty-foot room with drunks and other felons. Everyone had a different story to tell if asked how they’d ended up here. 

When another cough sputtered out, John moved his eyes to a squat little man across the room. The man tried to stare him down, but John returned his gaze to the floor, his mind drifting back to his current problem. 

After he’d called a tow truck and left Sue’s house with the driver, they’d been unable to find his car. It was dark, and the torrential rains had started again. They could barely see out the windows, let alone find his car in the ditch. And John wasn’t even certain that the car was as close to Sue’s driveway as he remembered. He began to feel foolish as the driver badgered him with questions. To end the confrontation, he decided to come back in the morning and look then. He was tired from the earlier battering he took and just wanted to get home. He’d paid the tow truck driver forty dollars in cash to drive him there. 

John’s reminiscences were halted again when the coughing man sat down next to him. The smell of sweat and whiskey