This Paper World

By Jeff Lane

Jim Hunt is an average 18 year old college student... or he would like
to be. He dreams of a door. An important secret about who or what he
is lies behind that door; a secret he doesn't want to let out. During a
trip home for Christmas break, he is confronted by his destiny, but
will he follow the path that his old teacher Park would like him to? Or will he walk away to live a normal life?

Described as Stephen King meets X-men or Star Wars meets Jason Bourne,
this eBook will appeal to fans of Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Anne
Rice, Scott Sigler, Mark Yoshimoto Nemcoff, Harry Potter or the
Twilight series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeff Lane
• Release date: Mar 21, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452471877

Jeff Lane

Jeff Lane lives in New Hampshire with his wife and two children. He also publishes his fiction in audio form, as a podcast, available free on iTunes. His website is www.jefflaneaudiobooks.com. Please follow him on Twitter; @writerjefflane and “like” him on Facebook.

Book preview

THIS PAPER WORLD

Jeff Lane

Published by

Jeff Lane

[e-mail]

http://www.jefflaneaudiobooks.com

This novel is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, dialogue, and plot are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, companies, or events is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2009 Jeff Lane

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

Fourth Smashwords edition October 2014

For Edith Grant,

my grandmother and biggest fan

Prologue

In a dingy town not far from the Texas/Mexico border stood a bar known as The Boot Heel. A few streaks of December sunlight, looking as solid as steel girders in the early evening dust, broke through between the buildings of the town’s main street and slanted dramatically to the ground.

A tall figure entered this bar, looked around and inconspicuously took a seat at one of the round tables in a dim corner. He is clad in a cracked and worn leather jacket and is loaded to the teeth with weapons, all of which he could use expertly… and had recently.

Troy Green didn’t make it a habit of entering seedy watering holes, but he wasn’t here to pass time, he had a job to do. As soon as he entered the gloomy establishment, he found who he was looking for right away. The short brown haired guy at the bar was definitely his quarry.

The Spoiler.

Troy could see the dingy tint that was hanging over him like a hellish version of Pigpen from the Peanuts comic strip. The man was rail thin with shoulder length greasy hair, and he was filthy, of that there was no doubt, but that tinge had nothing to do with his hygiene. He could have just taken a hundred showers right in a row and Troy would have seen the black cloud around him, though not many other people would have.

Troy himself was a little dingy, but that was just accumulated filth from being on the road and tracking down the scum at the bar. Aside from the road grime, Troy Green was a clean cut athletic specimen. Even though he was much closer to thirty than he was twenty, people still mistook him for a college age guy, at best a recent graduate.

As soon as Troy had found his target he noticed that the man got very anxious. He looked around at the large men sharing the bar with him, and then his head swiveled from side to side in a nervous fashion as though he was a kid in a record store about to swipe the latest rap CD.

Troy sat in an unconcerned fashion with his back mostly to the Spoiler. He could observe the man in his peripheral vision.

What’ll you have, sugar? The droopy looking brown haired waitress hadn’t been at Troy’s table for more than two seconds and already seemed annoyed with him.

I’ll have a beer, he said in a low tone. A Bud, he amended when the ‘no duh’ look popped into the waitresses’ eyes.

The Spoiler at the bar was part of a trio of evil beings. Their adventure had started several days ago in Arkansas. The nervous man at the bar was the only one left alive, and Troy had plans to correct that as soon as possible.

Troy had first seen the reports of the missing girl, Jennifer Lee Browning, the night before Reginald Armstrong, his mentor and surrogate father, had called him. He had told Troy that the abduction of the 10-year-old girl was definitely something that they couldn’t wait for the police to figure out on their own.

Endowed generously by the Armstrong Corporation, Troy headed to the small town in Arkansas to see if he could pick up the back trail. Armed with his credentials stating he was a licensed private investigator (as well as a small arsenal), Troy arrived.

Though relatives had tried to dissuade him from speaking to the parents of the girl, he charmed his way into the Browning home.

Mr. Armstrong is an extremely generous man, a philanthropist you might say, he explained to the girl’s distraught parents. He sees news stories like this and makes it his mission in life to help out wherever possible. Troy was only stretching the truth as little as possible to gain the parents’ trust.

Working with the local sheriff in the town proved to be a little more difficult, but nothing Troy’s charm and a couple of rolled up hundred dollar bills couldn’t handle.

Unfortunately, the sheriff didn’t have any real concrete leads anyway. Some neighbors had seen a dark blue or perhaps black van in the neighborhood the day before. One person thought it had New York plates but couldn’t be certain. No one had seen the girl get abducted so there was no telling if the van had been part of it.

Troy decided to walk the same route that the girl would have walked home from school. No one was certain, but that was the most plausible time and place that she was grabbed as she had been in school all day, and it was the last day of school before Christmas break.

As Troy walked down the quiet street he stepped out of himself. He let his mind settle and drop away some of the facts that he had been mulling over, like the one thing that the police didn’t know, and therefore was slowing down their investigation as though they were mired in four feet of mud. This fact was simply this; the grabbing of this girl was not random.

The police were going on the false assumption that whoever grabbed this girl (and they were leaning toward a single individual) had done it randomly. They assumed that any young girl on any quiet street would have fit this person’s fancy. Troy knew better.

Or rather, Reggie knew better. Reggie knew that this girl, though not extremely extraordinary, was something special. She was a girl who had exhibited mild abilities. The type of abilities that parents try to ignore, cover up or call a coincidence. She would sometimes recite facts or part of a conversation that she had not been part of, some that had even taken place before she was born. She was also a good guesser as she called it. If Jennifer’s dad had been a betting man, he could have considerably raised the household income with her guesses. These abilities among other things had not gained her notoriety. No local newspaper had done a story. The kids on the playground had little to no knowledge of these things, therefore she was never scorned or teased. In fact she was pretty popular in a very normal sense.

In truth her abilities would never get to be much more for her than an unreliable novelty that made her feel a little special and that was all. As she grew into adulthood the specialness would either fade or become slightly more honed, but she would never rise to the level of Reggie or Troy or really develop the same type of abilities.

Still, to a Spoiler she was a battery. By hooking her up in the right fashion they could draw from her. They could drain her until she was an empty husk, then throw her into the trash can and move onto the next Duracell or Energizer they came along.

The thought of what hooking her up would entail made Troy shudder. In fact it almost gave him a feeling of panic that he was not moving quickly enough to help her.

Troy had to push those thoughts right out of his head like he was pushing a heavy box across a carpeted floor. He needed to stop being Troy as he walked along this humid Arkansas street and become Jennifer Lee Browning.

As he did this, a cool trickling sensation started at the top of his head and slowly cascaded to the base of his skull. Troy could never have explained what was about to happen to anyone, including Reggie. He was going to gather as he put it. As he looked around, he was seeing things and relating to them (though in some ways very abstractly) as Jennifer would. Up ahead was the house of the old woman who seemed kind but was also a little scary. Behind him and across the street was the fence that had at one time penned in a very angry sounding dog, though she had not heard him in a long time.

As Troy walked he concentrated on sharpening the focus down to the level of things that she would have seen or felt on the day she was taken. He walked another thirty feet. He was now past the old woman’s house who did not come out on that day or today. He was now in a long stretch between houses, though it hadn’t occurred to him, because it hadn’t occurred to her.

Troy’s next few steps brought on a barrage of sensations. The feeling that something had gone wrong with her left shoe (a rock, untied shoe lace?) she would have stopped. Troy kept walking though now very slowly.

Panic!

She may have been running or wanted to run. Then...

Nothing.

Troy stopped right there on the side of the road. There wasn’t even a sidewalk. He had lost her. The cool watery feeling was still pouring down his brain, but he was entirely Troy. Jennifer had not made it to this point in the road on the Thursday she had disappeared. Troy looked immediately to his left, and there, on the road were skid marks. The sheriff had not mentioned these, probably because he had not noticed them.

Troy sidestepped to the left, out into the middle of the lane. He looked ahead and saw the road went straight. There were two streets that turned left off the road, and one that Y-ed off to the right. With all certainty, Troy knew that the van had taken the first left.

Troy took one tentative step back. He doubted he would get the sensations back again, especially if he tried too hard. He just relaxed.

BAM! A brilliant field of white exploded in his vision. His head swam and blood started pouring out of his nose. So, it had started that violently. Troy was even more frightened for the girl than before, and there, in the middle of the street, wearing a dark blue Brooks Brother suit with blood dripping onto his pressed and starched white shirt and silk tie, he started crying.

He cried because Jennifer Lee Browning had started crying, and he cried because he, Troy Green, felt like crying. What had happened to the girl, and what was going to happen to the girl was a sickening reminder of why he had given his life over to fighting these monsters. And fight them until his last dying breath is what he would do.

* * * * *

Troy was on this mission because he was a great tracker. Even without his unique ability to gather, as he called it, he just had a knack for tracking down a lead. It was a good thing because he probably would not be able to gather again for a few days at the earliest, probably a few weeks would be more the case. Either way he hoped this adventure would be over by then. He would also have a thunderous migraine to pay for it, but it was well worth it, mainly because the last thing he was able to gather (as his nose exploded with blood) was the destination of the van; Texas. In fact, the last snapshot his mind took of the things Jennifer had seen was a map, with a route (mostly secondary roads) highlighted and the name of a town (Kermit) circled. Even the best tracker needed a good start, and Troy now had that.

Troy went back to his hotel, changed into something a little more appropriate for traveling; jeans, boots, flannel shirt and a weathered leather jacket. He’d had the jacket since high school and had always fancied that he looked a little bit like one of his childhood heroes, Indiana Jones.

That might even explain the bullwhip that he carried in his own repertoire of tools. He had gotten it quite well mastered. He could grab the gun out of someone's hand at 15 feet, give or take a few lacerations on the gun owner’s wrist.

He headed west from the hotel. From here on out Troy was going to have to depend on intuition, keen eyes and a lot of luck.

* * * * *

Even though he felt he was hopelessly behind (and falling farther behind with each stop to ask motel and store owners if they had seen the van), Troy eventually had to pull into a motel for a few hours sleep. He would be no good to the girl if he was dead tired on his feet.

Troy got up and left early the next morning from his hotel and continued westward. Reggie had done some research for Troy on the town he had seen circled on the map. Sure enough, there was an abandoned oil field owned by The Knightshade Corporation; no doubt the Spoilers destination.

After finally traversing almost the entire width of the Nation of Texas, Troy rolled his rental car to a stop beside the fence that enclosed the oil field. He realized for the first time what a huge complex it was. Though definitely deserted, he saw at least four big structures and several smaller ones. His foes could be in any one of them. Or none of them, the pessimistic part of his mind reminded him.

The other factor that was weighing on him was that the area was flat and devoid of anything that even resembled nature. He would be seen approaching from several hundred yards away. Even parked outside the fence the way he was now might be enough to call attention to him.

Troy came to a frustrating realization that he would have to wait until after dark to move. And that dark would not be fully entrenched for over three hours. Who knows what horrible atrocities would be happening to that little girl in the meantime?

As frustrating as that realization was, he was resigned to it. He wouldn’t do the girl any good if he got killed before he could reach her. He pulled the rental car into a shallow ditch and started going over his inventory. He coiled the bullwhip and fastened it to a quick release strap on his left hip. He donned a shoulder holster that would hold a gun under each arm. In that holster he kept a twin pair of Colt All American 9 mm pistols. Each would hold 15 rounds of ammunition. He would also carry two spare magazines on the shoulder holster.

On his right hip he fastened the holster that held a bit more serious weapon, a Beretta 9 mm automatic. It was Troy’s weapon of choice, especially when he was out numbered.

To his left thigh he attached a serious knife that Troy knew first hand was great in an up close situation. A special sewn-in sheath on his left boot held a knife that was perfectly balanced for throwing. Troy was lethally accurate with that as well.

In his time with Reggie, he had seen a little action. This was only his second solo project and he wouldn’t even dream of telling anyone he wasn’t scared.

* * * * *

A little over two hours later Troy was sitting in the rental car staring at the last piece of inventory that would be going into the oil field with him.

The item Troy was holding in his hands was nothing that would be putting holes in or slicing through any of the Spoilers. It was a picture. It was a picture of a little girl with her arms wrapped lovingly around a loyal looking chocolate lab. The dog was licking her face in the picture and it was obvious to Troy that the girl was giggling. He could almost hear the girl’s laughter come through the picture.

He had been staring at the little girl’s face for over an hour. This is what I am doing here. This is what I am protecting. I will get this girl back to her life so she can give that dog a big hug.

* * * * *

You got her ready? Argenue, the obvious leader of the trio of abductors called from a platform by a row of offices down to the floor of the dark building they were in.

Yeah, she’s ready, a skinny, greasy wraith, who had at some point acquired the nickname of Torque called back.

Claude? Where the hell are you? Argenue called out into the dark.

I’m taking a dump! rang back the thick French accent from a dark corner of the building. I’ll be right there! He then proceeded to mutter something under his breath.

Argenue started down the stairs to where the shivering little girl was tied to a table. He knew he would have to get rid of Claude someday. He was just a little too unpredictable for Argenue’s taste. Claude respected Argenue’s authority only as far as he had to and no more. That was perhaps the most dangerous aspect about him.

You ready for this, pretty? he asked the frightened girl. She had dark circles under her eyes, and even for a skinny 10 year old she looked emaciated. There were scars, sores and burns over most of her body. The Spoilers had sampled her wares along the trip from Arkansas… just a sneak preview of what was to come for her. Though the gag was removed she didn’t respond. She just stared into Argenue’s eyes with a look that he couldn’t quite interpret.

I guess the cat’s got her tongue, Torque quipped with a smirk. Argenue noted in the back of his mind how unlike him it was to crack wise. For the most part, Torque was a quiet, nervous little guy. Argenue immediately dismissed it as excitement for what was about to happen.

Oh, I can feel it in the air. We’re going to get some good juice tonight! Claude exclaimed rubbing his hands together like he was about to sit down at a big meal. He was briskly walking toward the group from the back. I don’t know why you make us drive all the way out here just to do this, Argenue, but the wait has sure been worth it.

Oh, you would rather we do her right in the middle of Little Rock or something? You know how loud this can get. We’d have cops all over us in no time! Argenue explained very close to Claude’s dirt smudged face.

Claude didn’t even flinch, Yeah, I know cops or Cham...

Don’t even talk about them! Torque nearly shrieked. That was more like him.

Argenue decided to drop this conversation and turn his attention back to their little prize. You ready, sweetheart? He was fully aware of how evil his grin must have looked to her. Yet with all the evilness about to befall her, she still had that look on her face. What was that?

May I have the first dance? Claude asked, only he pronounced it as ‘dawnsz’. He had a pair of pliers in his hand, and without waiting for an answer he leaned in on the girl and opened her mouth. Hold it open Torque. Let’s see what the tooth fairy has left for us.

He chose a tooth near the back of her small mouth. Keep those smelling salts ready. We want to keep her with us as long as possible. Argenue may have been the leader, but Claude was definitely the expert when it came to this.

One quick twist and a yank and the bloody tooth was freed. The girl’s voice was also freed. She shrieked at a pitch that brought pain to the men’s ears, but pleasure to their souls. Torque even thought he saw a visible burst of light emanate from her. Or was that his imagination?

* * * * *

Troy was sitting quietly still looking at the picture of the girl and her dog, painfully aware that he would not be able to move for at least another half hour. All of a sudden he sat bolt-upright. He did not hear the shriek, but he felt it. Instead of pleasure his soul felt a dark grief.

It was time.

Dark or no dark, the girl was being abused in what could only be described as ultimate horror. He didn’t need to check his weapons anymore, they were ready to go. He bounded from the car and across the deserted stretch of old blacktop.

What he did next, if observed by another human soul, would have seemed impossible, or like a cheap special effect from a TV show about bionic people. Troy bent deeply at the knees, swung his arms up and launched over the eight foot chain link fence.

He landed on the other side and immediately took off running. He knew exactly which building the girl was located in. Her pain was like a beacon to him. As he sprinted through the gathering gloom his eyes picked out dangerous obstacles like pipes and other pieces of machinery scattered about or impaled in the ground.

Troy’s senses sharpened and focused on where his feet would fall, but his pace did not slow.

* * * * *

The feelings were incredible! The strength and power this girl was giving off were being hungrily slurped up by all three of the men. Argenue knew from the first time he saw her, she was powerful, but he had no idea it would be this good. The only thing that gnawed at the back of his mind was that look she had before the torture started. What was that?

Hope.

The realization came to Argenue all of a sudden. It wasn’t abstract hope either, like she was deluding herself that a barrage of police cars would show up at the last minute like they always seemed to do in the movies. No, she knew something.

At that moment his newly charged body came to full alert. The other two were blissfully going about their business. Claude had started yanking out fist-fulls of hair, while Torque kept alternately dowsing the girl with ice water and administering the smelling salts beneath her nose to keep her conscious.

Argenue turned away from the scene and scanned the dark interior of the building. It was only at the last second did he look up into the rafters to see what looked like a college frat guy taking aim.

Argenue reached behind his back to where the Smith and Wesson revolver was tucked into his waistband at the crack of his ass. He had just closed his hand around the smooth grip when Troy’s gun reported.

It belched three rounds in quick bursts every time Troy pulled the trigger. He pulled three times and sent a spray of bullets toward the Spoiler. He was aiming for the left side of the man’s upper body to limit the possibility of hitting the girl. At least four or five of the rounds found their mark and the Spoiler spun violently to the left and crumpled.

Even before the body had hit the ground Troy was sailing through the air, landing on the balls of his feet in a crouched position. He neatly rolled to his right behind a stack of crates. He had hoped that the two remaining Spoilers would have scattered at the sound of the gun, but only one did.

The skinny one moved with a speed that surprised Troy. If he had been acting aggressively and using that speed against Troy instead of running for the nearest exit, Troy thought he could have just made the biggest and last mistake of his life.

Now he had only one to deal with, but that one had somehow flipped over the table and was hugging close to the little girl, using her bloody and battered frame as a shield.

In his move across the table he had pulled a rather large revolver and was pointing it toward the crates. OK! Stop right there!

It took Troy a millisecond to figure out what the guy had said because his European accent was so thick.

I’m pretty sure of what you are, and you probably know what I am, the Spoiler continued. This little girl has provided me with a lot of what I need to take care of you, and you know that. You also know that I care nothing for this girl’s life and will hold it over you as a bargaining chip.

Troy heard what sounded like a motocross dirt bike kick started, and then peel away at a high speed.

One thing that you really need to take into consideration, his French accented voice emphasized the ‘reelee’, is that my survival, I put above all else. You can have the little girl, and you can do what you want to Argenue and Torque. I won’t stop you. Just let me out of here alive!

How do you propose I do that? Troy yelled. He didn’t like where this was going. It felt like he was about to make a deal with the devil.

OK. I knew you were reasonable, came back the relieved voice. What I will do is take the girl out to the end of the road and leave her by the gate. You can see her from here. Then I take off. I might make like a bat out of hell. I might hang around to see how soon you come out and then shoot the girl in the head. You never know.

Troy could tell that the Spoiler was making this up as he was going along. Troy could also tell that this plan left too much out in the open for the Spoiler. All Troy would have to do is place one call to the local or state police on his phone and he would be picked up in the next town.

No, Troy knew that the real plan was still hatching in his foe’s evil mind and would somehow include Troy’s death and probably the little girl’s as well.

* * * * *

Jennifer Lee Browning lay on the metal table, bound hands and feet, cold and in more pain than she would have thought a human being could endure. The metallic taste in her decimated mouth reminded her that she was missing several teeth, how many she couldn’t quite remember. Her arms, legs and torso had been cut, sliced, filleted and battered. She could barely breathe, her chest felt extremely heavy.

She wasn’t certain exactly what these bad men had done to her, but she was sure of one thing, they had taken something from her. She had the image, though she wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined, of the men pulling a golden light out of her body and into theirs.

She wasn’t totally awake when the angel flew in to save her. She thought that one or two of the bad men were gone, but now there was one standing on her left side, yelling at the angel, holding a big gun.

She felt weak in many ways. It almost felt to her that only the pain was keeping her alive. She really wanted to guess what the bad man was going to do to the angel, but she was just too weak.

* * * * *

How do I know you’ll drop her off at the gate, or you won’t kill her as soon as you get out of here? Troy tried in sheer desperation.

You don’t, came back the French voice. The only thing you can be sure of is that my other alternative is pop her right here, take what is left out of her and take my chances with you.

Which will be no chance at all if you so much as breathe on that girl wrong; I can assure you of that.

There was silence, no retort at all. Troy wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. He got low on his haunches and peeked around the corner of the crates quickly. The Spoiler was still standing behind the table with the impressively large revolver pointed right at Troy. Luckily Troy was in motion on his way back as the thunder from the large gun exploded and a bullet tore a chunk out of the corner of the dusty crate. As close as that bullet was, the quick glance left an image on his mind like a photograph.

How did you like that? Still think that you have any other options than to do what I say? laughed the creature.

I think you have taken your last little girl, that’s for sure! Troy challenged back. He wasn’t sure if bravado was the best way to go here. He wasn’t sure of much, except that in that quick image he took of the scene across the room from him, he saw that perhaps the best opportunity would be the Spoiler’s legs. They were exposed under the high table.

But what was the best way to press that advantage? If he shot, assuming he could even get his hand around the corner of the crate without it getting shot off, let alone well enough to aim, there was still no guarantee that the Spoiler couldn’t shoot the girl as he went down. Actually, there was a pretty good chance that he could, and would.

Why didn’t Reggie come along on this one? Troy thought, not the first time. Then the idea came to him; what if Reggie had come along? Where would he be right now? He might be circling behind the Spoiler to take him out. Reggie was the quietest creature that Troy had ever witnessed. So all Troy had to do was make it seem like there was someone else with him.

Troy looked to the other side of the crates to the other edge. He was fairly sure that the way this stack of crates was canted that the back edge would be hidden from the Spoiler. The front edge of the stack would obscure the view and give Troy at least five or six inches beyond the edge where he couldn’t be seen.

* * * * *

The explosion of the gun seemed enormous to the girl and added a new dimension to the pain that was threatening to engulf her. It was only one shot, but the gun was just a little over a foot away from her battered head. Blood gushed from her ear. Something had burst inside and more of that golden light left her body and went into the bad man.

Thanks, ma petite fille, he whispered to her and continued to stare at the stack of boxes that sheltered her angel.

Though the deafening gun blast shattered her ear drum and made a little more of her life force slip from her, it also did something else. It broke open the seal on the last well of golden light inside her. She had subconsciously kept that capped, but now it was seeping forth. For now that light was still hers. It filled her body back up, flowing into all the empty places that the bad men had taken it out of her.

She knew it might take more than she had, but she had to try to guess what the bad man was thinking.

Well, what do you say? I am losing patience, yelled the Spoiler. Clearly he was not bluffing, and he held all the cards... well, most of them anyway.

Then it came to Troy, almost as though he was looking through another pair of eyes, only they were eyes that were covered in gauze, which fuzzed everything up. He could clearly see the Spoiler’s hand reaching down into a leather bag, a bag he recognized from the snapshot in his mind. The Spoiler’s rotten hand withdrew a pineapple shaped hand grenade. Troy immediately knew whom that hand grenade was meant for. Before he had a chance to second guess his plan, he put it into action.

Still in a crouching position, he spun to the opposite side of the crates. He reached down toward his boot for his throwing knife, paused for the briefest of moments and then grabbed the large knife on his hip instead. He threw the knife toward a dark corner of the building. Aim was not critical.

As soon as the knife left his hand and was sailing through the air, he spun himself back the way he had come, un-strapping his whip as he went. He didn’t stop at the edge of the crates, his momentum carried him out to what, if he hadn’t timed everything right, would be the path of large bullets.

The timing had not been that bad after all. The French accented Spoiler had let his eyes drop momentarily to the bag at his feet. He