Hoppers

By J.S. Frankel

Colin Nicholson, student, jack-of-all-subjects and master of only one—English—has nothing much going for him. His widowed mother spends more of her time auditioning for roles in plays and low-budget cable movies than providing decent guardianship.

His one solace is the movies, and when a girl named Leanna steps out of the screen one day, claiming that a maniac is chasing her and she needs his help, Colin has no choice but to go along with her, especially when his best friend is blown away by the maniac called Nails.

Leanna is from another futuristic Earth, one with interdimensional capability, and Nails and others are after that technology, as she’s the only one who knows the secret behind it.

Colin’s journey with her begins, and their travels range from going to other Earths to a Hell Earth, to a beautiful but deadly beach world.

Along the way, Colin figures out that there’s more to the story than meets the eye, and instead of running from their attackers, he and Leanna decide to do their own investigating and meet the attackers head-on.

Meeting them head-on seems suicidal. If he and Leanna lose, then the fate of Earth—all Earths—may end up in the hands of a madman.

However, Colin’s mantra is rule or drool. In real terms, it means fight or die. And if it comes to that, he intends to go down swinging.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eXtasy Books Inc
• Release date: Jan 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781487433116

Book preview

A device that can open portals to other worlds, ones like ours and ones entirely different. For student Colin Nicholson, meeting Leanna Bailey turns out to be the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Meeting Nails counts as the worst.

Colin Nicholson, student, jack-of-all-subjects and master of only one—English—has nothing much going for him. His widowed mother spends more of her time auditioning for roles in plays and low-budget cable movies than providing decent guardianship.

His one solace is the movies, and when a girl named Leanna steps out of the screen one day, claiming that a maniac is chasing her and she needs his help, Colin has no choice but to go along with her, especially when his best friend is blown away by the maniac called Nails.

Leanna is from another futuristic Earth, one with interdimensional capability, and Nails and others are after that technology, as she’s the only one who knows the secret behind it.

Colin’s journey with her begins, and their travels range from going to other Earths to a Hell Earth, to a beautiful but deadly beach world.

Along the way, Colin figures out that there’s more to the story than meets the eye, and instead of running from their attackers, he and Leanna decide to do their own investigating and meet the attackers head-on.

Meeting them head-on seems suicidal. If he and Leanna lose, then the fate of Earth—all Earths—may end up in the hands of a madman.

However, Colin’s mantra is rule or drool. In real terms, it means fight or die. And if it comes to that, he intends to go down swinging.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

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

Hoppers

Copyright © 2021 J.S. Frankel

ISBN: 978-1-4874-3311-6

Cover art by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by eXtasy Books Inc

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Smashwords Edition

Hoppers

By

J.S. Frankel

Dedication

As always, to my wife, Akiko, and to my children, Kai and Ray. I also thank my sister, Nancy Frankel, for her unwavering support. As well, in no particular order, Sara Beth Lennertz, Emily Lennertz, Mirren Hogan, Lyra Shanti, Beth Zervos, Gisela Sedlmayer, Eva Pasco, and Joanne Van Leerdam.

Chapter One

Tacoma, Washington, June seventh, Saturday, five-thirty PM.

Man, this is going to be good!

John Heathrow, my classmate and only friend at school, nudged me in the ribs with his elbow, all excited at the prospect of the movie we were about to see—for the tenth time.

C’mon, Colin, you gotta admit, this is what you love, right?

John had a point. Summer vacation had officially begun two days ago—three months of kicking back, relaxing, and reading the occasional book on the list for fall’s classes. I’d already finished two books and had six to go, so time was on my side.

Unfortunately, senior year at G.H. Hernan High School would put a stop to the fun. Senior year meant everything, mainly getting good enough grades, and passing the exams to the local university.

A moment later, I took back that thought. My grades were average at best. English Literature was the only subject I excelled at. Everything else? Average.

With an inward sigh, I counted down the seconds to when the movie would begin. The other ads had finished, we’d seen the warning about illegally recording the movie, and now, the lights had dimmed. Showtime.

The Revue Theater, current viewing population—roughly forty-five, including us—offered plush seats, cold drinks, freshly buttered and salted popcorn, and most of all, great movies.

Sure, it would have been easier to rent a DVD or buy one or even download one off the internet. It would have been easier but sitting in a darkened theater—to me—was prime. It was all about the big screen experience.

And the big screen experience demanded seating and listening perfection. Picking the correct seat was essential. I always chose Row J, number fourteen. That seat sat slightly off to the left of the screen, just far enough so that I wouldn’t get eye strain, but close enough so that I could see the screen clearly.

In the local theater and my selected seat, the sound wasn’t too loud or quiet or distorted. In short, it was ideal. John was of the same mind.

Nerds. That’s what you are, everyone said at school in the great city of Tacoma.

Yes, we were nerds. It wasn’t like I didn’t like girls or hanging out with other people. The former? Yes, girls rocked, but I’d never found anyone I liked.

As for the latter, call me anti-social, but not by choice. It seemed as though everyone was moving in one direction while I was going in the other direction, and never the twain shall meet.

John was the same way, with the exception that he was a genius at everything, while yours truly wasn’t.

John was headed to any university he wanted. Me? I had no idea. My mother’s salary had bought us our house—an old two-story job. However, used or not, it was still a home.

It would have been a complete home with her there more often, but she was constantly on the road performing in her one-woman review shows or with any cast or commercial that would have her.

Apparently, my mother was quite talented, as she was always in demand. Before my father died, she’d acted locally. But after he went, she took her act on the road and spent more time there than at home.

People have to know who I am, she’d said. If I don’t toot my horn a little, who’s going to hear it?

She had a point, but she didn’t just toot her horn. She blew it wherever and whenever possible. If it wasn’t stage-work, then it was commercials or whatever else brought in the money.

My mother had been very pretty when she was young. Nicki Milton was her maiden name, and when she got married, she took my father’s last name of Nicholson, but she always used her single name for work.

Medium height, blonde, with a trim figure and sunny features, she’d never made it to mainstream television or movies. However, she’d gotten good supporting parts in low-budget cable television ventures or commercials.

Now, at the age of forty-one, she was still attractive, but her roles verged into character parts—the best friend, the office worker, or the waitress with a shady past or the teacher who cared for her students. She was adept at playing all of them.

Occasionally, she chafed against being typecast as a faded Hollywood star—which she had never really been—but on the other hand, she said that the parts paid well...

What’s your favorite scene?

What?

I’d been lost in thought, and John’s question brought me back to reality.

Your favorite scene, Colin, he repeated patiently. I usually zoned out, so he was used to it.

Oh, when Bronson takes on the alien hand-to-hand and kicks his butt.

It was a kickass scene, with Brick Bronson, the hero, fighting against a much bigger alien. Of course, the alien outsized him. Of course, the alien had better fight skills, and of course, the alien was overconfident.

Overconfidence led to his downfall. Bronson had tricked the alien into running full speed at him. He stood in front of a brick wall and moved aside a split-second before being rammed.

Naturally, the alien got stuck halfway through. Sure, it was a trope, but the way the director set it up, it looked cool. So, the alien got trapped and screamed something about killing everyone in sight. But after that, it was an easy matter for Bronson to blow its head off...

Hey, title’s up, John mumble-whispered, his mouth full of popcorn.

Worlds Without Ending. Sci-fi, fantasy, and action, all of which were right up my alley.

It’s what I lived for, really. Movies were all about the possibilities. Let’s see, I’d already seen this flick ten times, and next week, I’d be sure to see it again. Summer vacation was all about the fun, after doing homework.

Cue the opening music and credits, and Brick Bronson, the leading man with all the acting range of a stone, emerged from an impossibly high-toned bedroom in a pair of boxer shorts to greet his girlfriend.

Of course, he was shirtless. Dude was a stud. And I heard that in his contract, he had to have at least one scene where he took off his shirt and then had sex with his leading lady.

The fact that the guy stood over six-two, blond, blue-eyed, and handsome, and the fact that he also had the build of a Mr. America contestant wasn’t lost on me.

I had the body of an eleven-year-old coin collector, all angles and bones. At the height of five-ten, I weighed one-sixty on a good day. Overall, I had good endurance but a total lack of muscle mass.

Looks-wise, count me as average, with a narrow face, absurdly high cheekbones, sandy-brown hair, and a nose that should have been bobbed three years ago. People who liked me said I had an unusual face. Those who didn’t, said I looked like a cross between a baby robin and a hatchet.

Most of the comments came from the people in the didn’t-like-me category.

In contrast, John stood four inches shorter and thirty pounds lighter. Okay, he had the body of an eleven-year-old coin collector. I bumped myself into the fifteen-year-old range.

Damn it, at seventeen, I should have been semi-jacked. I worked out, ate well, but nothing much ever happened. My late father had been built, but he’d died in a car accident four years ago. I still missed him.

Movies provided solace from my solitary lifestyle. My mother was more into her career than seeing her only child get ahead in life.

Like a hummingbird, she was constantly on the move. In fact, she’d already gone to San Francisco for a series of auditions and a small part in a cable television movie.

She’d said it was good money, and that she was a friend of the producer. They were more than friends, from what I figured out. His name was Larry Purcell. They’d been dating for the past six months. Serious relationship? Maybe, but whatever. I had the house to myself for the next two weeks, so I could do whatever I wanted.

Thanks, Mom, I muttered.

What?

John elbowed me. Stupid—I’d been thinking out loud. Sorry.

John knew about my mother. We’d grown up in the same neighborhood, and we’d been tight ever since elementary school.

He knew about my mother always galivanting off to her next audition or stage performance or date—after my father died, she’d had a succession of boyfriends but had never remarried.

Now, she’d grown close to Larry, a balding and skinny middle-aged guy with a face like a squirrel’s, all high cheekbones and buck teeth.

Yeesh.

Wisely, John said nothing about that, so I turned my attention to the screen.

Hey, Linda, how’s about we have some fun before I go to work, Brick intoned in a deeper-than-deep voice as he puffed out his chest. I’m ready.

In return, his girlfriend, a hotter-than-hot blonde, pouted, showing off full lips, and she gave him a come-hither look. Whatever you say, lover.

Oh, God, the dialogue was to die while listening to—or throw up at—whichever came first. Bronson’s films always had horribly cheesy lines, but action ruled. Rule or drool. Bronson ruled, and so did his movie’s special effects.

That’s what his fans liked, and that’s what he delivered. What CGI couldn’t take care of, he took care of it himself, doing every wire-action and jumping and fighting stunt on his own.

Stunt double? He never heard of the term, and some of what he did was downright dangerous. Jumping off cliffs, fighting martial arts masters—he had a black belt in karate and had been an amateur boxing champ, for starters—it was all in a day’s work for him. Sure, he couldn’t act, but major respect for the punishment he put himself through.

This is going to be good, John said. Sex with the hot chick first, and then there’s a fight with Flaxor, and—

Hey, shut it, will you? Like, maybe someone else wants to enjoy the movie, okay?

That came from another dude who sat three rows over with a girl who shrank in her seat. Either she didn’t like her date calling us out, or she was embarrassed. No telling which.

John waved his hand in an I’m-sorry gesture, but that didn’t deter Mr. I-Got-Offended from coming over.

Oh, crap, here comes trouble. The dude was pissed, and from the way that he hunched his shoulders and balled his fists, he thought he’d get in a boxing workout before hitting the gym as he reared back to throw a punch.

I squared off as well, even though confrontations scared me. I wasn’t much of a fighter, but all the same, this was wrong. I’d been defending John’s skinny butt since grade school, but I knew he couldn’t do it himself.

Really, why fight? John had been overenthusiastic. He didn’t deserve getting smacked in the mouth for being a movie geek. No one did.

Mr. Dude started his punch, but another hand came out of the darkness and grabbed his arm. Don’t try it, a young woman’s voice said.

Although it was dark, I saw a form just behind Mr. Offensive. It was a woman, although I couldn’t make out her features. It looked like she was wearing a bodysuit, but why would anyone wear that in the middle of summer?

With a tangle of long, frizzy hair, she stood a couple of inches shorter than me. And slender body or not, she was strong.

The guy tried to get free but yelled as his arm got twisted behind his back. Let me go!

Not likely, she answered.

A moment later, she gave him a forearm shiver like a pro wrestler. Said shot to the back of his head sent him face down. The lights came up, and the minuscule audience turned in our direction with a collective what-the-hell expression on their faces.

Embarrassment, thy name is movie time, and I’d been stopped from doing the obligatory manly thing. A massive guy wearing an usher’s uniform walked in and made his way over to us. What’s going on?

The dude who’d started it all began bitching, long and loud. The usher listened to the story calmly enough, his arms crossed over his chest, but after about two minutes, he shook his head and asked, Okay, where’s the girl who punked you?

Tough Guy’s face reddened, and he swung his head left and right, and then back to face the usher. I... uh, I don’t know. She’s gone.

Yes, she had, and all that remained was the crowd, now grumbling because the movie was delayed. She’s gone, the usher repeated, the tone in his voice indicating that he hated being put on with all this BS, and I couldn’t blame him.

He then turned his gaze on us. All right, here’s how this works. You two guys, you got names?

Yes, I said. I’m Colin, and this is John.

The usher nodded. Colin and John, shut up during the movie, got it?

Yes, John squeaked out. Okay.

The usher swung around to face Tough Guy. What’s your name?

Paul.

His face was turning red at being caught in this situation, and his girlfriend came over to pat his shoulder. Why? He started it.

Paul what?

Paul Thatch.

A grunt came from the usher, signifying he’d come to another momentous decision. Fine. Paul Thatch, you watch the movie, you leave everyone else alone, understand? If I see you in this theater again causing trouble, guess who gets smashed?

Paul-the-jerk protested, stabbing his finger at the ground. Hey, I got the right to come in here.

His statement caused the usher to smile, his teeth flashing. Yeah, you do. And I have the right to toss your ass out if you cause trouble. Take it up with the owner. I’m his son. You got that?

Defeated by the commanding tone in the usher’s voice, not to mention being outranked in life, Paul bobbed his head reluctantly. Yeah, got it.

Good.

The usher’s smile disappeared. He speared us with another look of you-shall-respect-my-authority and left. The lights went down, the movie restarted, and everything went well.

It went well for us, but Paul and his girlfriend left ten minutes into the feature. After the movie finished, John and I walked home in silence. His head hung down, and it was clear that he felt ashamed for not manning up when things went down at the theater.

No one else was on the streets, and John kept up his silence. He lived only a couple of blocks away, and near my house, he broke the quiet barrier and apologized for being a dick.

That’s okay, I said, simply wanting to forget this day had ever happened. We’re on for tomorrow, aren’t we?

We’d agreed to meet then, considering our experience had been a failure today. And while I wanted to forget this almost-got-decked experience, the one thing I couldn’t forget was that girl.

Man, the way she moved! It was like liquid lightning, and from the skill that she’d demonstrated against a much bigger opponent, it was clear to me, if to no one else, that she could have kicked Paul’s ass and kicked it good.

But who was she?

Chapter Two: Date Night

John rang me the next day, Sunday afternoon. He’d come down with a cold, so he couldn’t