Gone (Parallel Trilogy, Book 1) (11 page)

I visualized the house I’d run away from, the one where I’d expected to find my family, the one I so recently hadn’t wanted to move to and knew I’d give anything to be back there with my family again.

Feeling discouraged by the gloomy looking neighborhood, I trudged forward. As I consulted my Google maps printout, I thought about what Fred had said about me being from another universe.

Is that even possible? And if it is, how does it work? The idea astounded me and I pushed it aside, not wanting to consider the ramifications when I was so close to finding my family.

Instead, I studied the houses as I walked. All of them were smaller than the one up north. For the most part the yards were unkempt, although there were a few that looked like they were taken care of. Graffiti covered most of the fences, and music blared from a house where a car was up on blocks.

When I saw a group of young men loitering at one house, I stared straight ahead, grateful they were on the other side of the street, and hoped they wouldn’t pay attention to me. As I passed, I heard sudden laughter and wondered if they were talking about me. Ignoring them, I hurried past and when I reached the end of the street I turned left onto what was supposedly my street.

Disappointed to see that the houses here looked even worse than the ones on the street I had just come down, I pressed forward, looking for my address. No one seemed to be around on this street and I was able to walk without incident. Finally my house came into sight and my heart pounded. I wasn’t surprised to see that my house was one with a tidy yard; Mom had always taken pride in the appearance of our house.

There were no cars in the driveway and I wondered if anyone was home. Cautiously, I approached the front door. Even though this was the address Mom had written in the email, I had never been here before and didn’t want to barge into a stranger’s house by mistake. I took hold of the doorknob and turned, but it was locked. I stepped off the porch and walked toward the back gate.

As I approached the gate I heard barking and immediately recognized Goldie’s bark. Relief flooded me when I knew I had actually found my family and hot tears pushed their way into my eyes. I yanked on the string for the gate latch and when I heard it give, I shoved it open. Goldie rushed out, her tail wagging. Squatting down, I wrapped my arms around her neck and pressed my face into her soft fur. Quiet sobs escaped my mouth and I held on to our dog as I worked to gain control of my emotions.

After a few moments my tears slowed, then stopped and I released Goldie. As I stood, she pranced around me and I smiled, the familiarity of her behavior filling me with warmth. I closed and latched the gate behind me and walked around the side of the house, with Goldie following me, until I reached the back door. I pulled on the door handle, but this door was locked too. I wondered when they’d be back and then wondered if I could find another way inside. On my way through the backyard I had noticed a door that most likely led to the attached garage. I walked back to it and was pleasantly surprised when it was unlocked. I entered the single car garage and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to adjust to the dark interior. Goldie had trailed me and she ran right to the door that led into the house.

Following her this time, I reached the door in only a few steps and hoped my luck would hold out. The door opened under my hand and I smiled, glad to be able to get in. But then I thought about the neighborhood and worried that someone had been careless about locking the house. Anyone could have walked in; in fact a stranger could be in the house right now. Sudden fear pulsed through me, but I forced myself to walk through the door.

I found myself in the kitchen and was surprised to see the breakfast dishes still in the sink. Mom had always been a stickler for making sure the kitchen was clean before we left the house in the morning. For some reason I found the mess disturbing. Almost without thinking I set my jacket on the table, then went to the sink and began rinsing the dishes, then looked around for the dishwasher so I could load them. But there wasn’t one.

No wonder they hadn’t cleaned up. The dishes had to be done by hand.

I set the dish I was holding back into the sink and went to the refrigerator, stepping around Goldie as she sniffed the floor. Pulling open the door, I perused the items inside but was disappointed to find very little food there. My stomach rumbled and I remembered I hadn’t eaten anything since the stale Pop-Tart in Fred’s truck.

I closed the refrigerator and began opening cabinets, looking for anything to eat. After several tries I found the cabinet that held most of the food and dug around until I came across a familiar brand of crackers. I pulled out a handful of the round snacks, my mouth watering in anticipation, then placed the first one in my mouth. The taste was not what I had expected and I frowned in disappointment. I had eaten this brand of cracker before, but it tasted nothing like I remembered. There were unusual seasonings in the flavor. I looked at the box more closely and saw that it was a fat-free and sodium-free variety.

Continuing to eat despite the strange flavor, I found a glass and filled it with tap water, then gulped it down. By the time I began to feel full, I had eaten a quarter of the box and had three full glasses of water. I closed the box and placed it back in the cupboard, then grabbed my jacket, found the stairs, and began climbing, anxious to find my bedroom.

At the top of the stairs I paused, listening to see if anyone was actually home. The only sound was Goldie panting next to me. I reached down and patted her back, her presence a comfort to me, then I walked down the short hall, glancing in each of the four doors. There were three bedrooms and one bathroom.

I went into each bedroom in turn. My parents’ bedroom didn’t have its own bathroom like the other house had, and there was only enough room for a full bed and a small dresser. One of the other bedrooms obviously belonged to my younger brothers; the dirty clothes stuffed in corners and the toys scattered around the floor made that clear. The last bedroom held bunk beds shoved against one wall, along with one dresser and a small desk along the other walls. This had to be my room, shared with my thirteen-year-old sister, Amy. As I realized I had lost my own room, my heart sank. It had taken a long time to convince Dad I deserved my own room and now I had lost it.

I could tell that the top bunk belonged to Amy—there had been no attempt to make it—but the bottom bunk was mostly made and I assumed it was mine. I draped my jacket over the back of the desk chair, then sat on the edge of the bed. After a moment I stretched out on top of the comforter, staring at the bottom of Amy’s bunk, questions racing through my mind.

How had my family moved here and gotten settled in so quickly? Why had they moved in the first place? Why did it look like I had slept here already when I knew for a fact I had never stepped foot in this house before?

At the last question, I sat up, my thoughts tumbling around in my head. How
was
it possible that it appeared I’d been living here when I
knew
I had never been here before? I jumped up and went to the desk, yanking open drawers. I found several homework assignments with my name on them, assignments that had been graded, assignments I had no memory of doing.
How was that possible?

Then I thought again about Fred’s comment that maybe I had come from a parallel universe. The idea terrified me, but what else could explain all the strange things that had happened to me since I’d run away from home and spent the night in that little hut?

I didn’t really know anything about this parallel universe theory, but suddenly I was desperate to know everything about it. Hurrying down the stairs, I found a computer monitor in the living room with the computer tower next to it. I sat in front of it but couldn’t see where the power button was. Dad had always been interested in technology and liked to get the latest models and I wondered if this was a recent purchase—before he was taken by the F.A.T. people, of course. I knew I hadn’t seen it before.

I leaned toward it, trying to see where it turned on, when a light briefly shined in my eyes. Startled, I jumped back, then heard the sound of a quiet fan as the computer turned on.

How did that turn on? I hadn’t even touched it.

I leaned toward the computer tower again and noticed a small device plugged in to the side. I picked it up and examined it.

I think this is an eye scanner, I thought, amazed that my family would have something like that. Did it recognize me?

I set it down and turned toward the monitor, which now showed the desktop. Pulling up the browser, I did a search on parallel universes. Multiple sites appeared in the search engine and I spent a while pulling them up and reading the information. The main thing I learned was that many people believed in parallel universes, but I still found it hard to accept that that was what had happened to me. If I had traveled to another dimension, wouldn’t I have noticed something? But I had no memory of anything unusual happening. That is, besides my family disappearing and learning about the F.A.T. centers. But nothing like wandering to another universe.

I heard the sound of the front door being unlocked and I froze, suddenly terrified to see my family. What if it wasn’t my family? What if it was a group of strangers who lived here with Goldie? My heart pounded as I closed the browser and dashed up the stairs to what I hoped was my bedroom.

Chapter Twelve

I ran into the bedroom that I had assumed was mine and slid open the closet door. There wasn’t much space, but I shoved aside some of the clothes hanging from the rod and stepped behind them, then moved them back into place. My heart hammering, I reached forward and closed the closet door.

Muffled voices floated up the stairs and I strained to listen, trying to verify they were the voices of my family.

“Nooo,” a young voice whined. “It’s mine.”

I thought that sounded like my eight-year-old brother Brandon.

“Give the car back to your brother,” a woman’s voice demanded.

I smiled as I recognized my mother’s voice. I slid the closet door open and stepped out, then jumped when I heard a loud scream. Trying not to laugh at the look of terror on my sister’s face, I calmly walked out of the closet and slid it closed behind me.

“Morgan! What are you doing?” Amy said, obviously embarrassed to be startled.

“I was just looking for a shirt.”

“How could you see with the door closed?” she asked, squinting with disbelief.

Thinking quickly I said, “Flashlight.”

“Oh.”

I was so happy to see her that I almost gave her a hug, but I stopped myself in time. A sign of affection like that would certainly raise her suspicions that something was out of the ordinary. But I couldn’t stop the big smile from spreading across my face.

“Is that a new shirt?” she asked.

I glanced down at the shirt I was wearing, then looked at her strangely. “This is the one you gave me for Christmas. Don’t you remember?”

Amy laughed. “No, I didn’t. I gave you earrings.”

My heart pounded as I touched my earlobes. I had never had my ears pierced. I had been too scared that it would hurt.

“Why aren’t you wearing any earrings, Morgan?”

“Uh, I just don’t want to.”

A puzzled look on her face, Amy walked close to me and stared at my ears. “But you always wear earrings.”

I quickly moved my hair so that my ears were covered. “Well maybe I don’t want to now. I certainly don’t need to get permission from a stupid thirteen-year-old.”

Looking hurt, Amy pouted as tears filled her eyes. “You don’t have to be rude.”

I frowned. She usually answered my mean remarks with something equally scathing. What was wrong with her? Or was it me that had something wrong? Oh well, I thought. She’ll get over it.

I watched as she sat on the bottom bunk.

Then it occurred to me that she might be able to tell me something about Dad. “So, Amy.”

“What?” Her arms were crossed and her bottom lip poked out in a full sulk.

“Where’s Dad?”

“You’re just making fun of me.” She turned her head away, clearly feeling insulted for a reason known only to her.

Her reaction just made me all the more curious. She didn’t seem upset by the mention of Dad, so that was a good sign. “Why do you think I’m making fun of you?”

Refusing to look at me, she spoke to the wall. “You know where Daddy is. Why are you asking a question that you already know the answer to? Are you trying to make me look stupid?”

I had no clue where my Dad was but I didn’t know how to explain that to her without making her think I’d gone completely crazy. “No, Amy. I know you’re not stupid.” I paused, swallowing my pride. “I’m sorry I said that earlier. That wasn’t nice of me.”

She turned to face me, the pout beginning to fade.

Pretending I knew where Dad was, I asked, “So, when do you think he’ll be home?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “You know how those places are. You can’t come home until you weigh the right amount.”

I felt the blood drain from my face as I realized what Fred had told me was true. People really were taken to the F.A.T. centers and forced to lose weight.

“Morgan, are you okay?” Amy’s eyebrows were drawn together, a look of concern on her face.

“Yeah, sure,” I muttered as I walked over and sat next to her on what I assumed was my bed. I could feel her staring at me, but I ignored her, trying to come to grips with the fact that I was in some other universe and wondering how I could get back home. Closing my eyes in amazement that such a thing was even possible, I swallowed hard to force down the nausea that tried to push its way up my throat.

“Morgan, what’s wrong?” Amy asked, gently pushing my arm.

I opened my eyes and looked at her. “How long has Dad been gone? I can’t remember.” I tried to pretend I wasn’t shaken by the fact that he was gone.

“I guess it’s been about seven weeks.”

“Seven weeks?” I couldn’t hide the shock. Then I tried to cover myself. “I mean, wow. That’s gone by fast.”