Road Less Traveled (15 page)

Unfortunately, so far Henry hadn't been any more help than anyone else.

“I'll let you know if I hear of anything regarding the Thunderbird,” Henry assured him as they both rose from the lunch counter and waved good-bye to Vincent. “Keep me posted about Russell's progress.”

“You got it.”

They turned to go, and almost bumped into one of the Bakers. Today's shirt was evidently gray, with stylized bluerose patterns plastered across it. The Bakers always had the most entertaining shirt choices.

This Dr. Baker didn't even spare Carter a second glance, so whatever had gotten the brothers mad at him the other day must still hold true today. Baker did see Henry, however—and reeled backward, as if he'd seen a ghost. Or a rabid dog.

“You can't be here!” Dr. Baker accused, pointing at Henry. His hand shook. “You aren't supposed to be here!”

“What are you talking about, Dr. Baker?” Henry asked, his voice as calm and soothing as always. Henry was great with people, which was part of why he'd been elected mayor. Another reason was that he almost always had a solution to whatever the current problem was. “Of course I can be here.”

“No!” Dr. Baker stared at him, and began backing away. “You can't! You're gone! They said you were never coming back! They promised!” Then he turned and ran from the restaurant.

Carter glanced at Henry. “Any idea what that was all about?”

“No.” Henry frowned. “But whatever it was, I don't like it.”

“Welcome to my world.” That got a laugh out of Henry, and he was smiling again as they walked to the door—

—which opened just as they were reaching for it.

And Dr. Baker stepped through.

The first thing Carter noticed was the shirt. It wasn't gray with blue roses. It was midnight blue, with tiny stars.

The second thing was that this Dr. Baker nodded at them and said, “Good afternoon, Henry. Hello, Sheriff Carter.” No fear. No snubbing, either.

But he did look distracted.

“What's with the quick change?” Carter asked, gesturing at the starry shirt. “Didn't think the other one went with your socks?”

He got a blank look in return. “I don't know what you mean, Sheriff.”

“Were you just in here, or was that one of your brothers?” Henry tried. “Just a minute ago?”

“It wasn't me,” this Dr. Baker declared. Then he frowned. “But . . . I don't think it was one of my brothers. I'm not sure.”

“You're not sure?” That was really weird. For Eureka, anyway. The Bakers seemed to always know where their brothers were, and what they were doing, and even what they were thinking. Half the time, Carter wondered if it was just one Baker and he did all the rest with mirrors.

Dr. Baker was still frowning, and his eyes were slightly unfocused. He whispered something, and Carter had to lean in close to catch it: “There are too many of us.”

He glanced at Henry, who nodded. He'd heard it as well.

“Go ahead and have lunch, Dr. Baker,” Carter encouraged, guiding the balding scientist over to a stool. “We can talk more later.” Baker nodded vaguely, but when Vincent stepped over, the routine of ordering food seemed to calm him, and he was able to place his order without any hesitation. Carter left him there and returned to the door.

“We need to tell Allison about this,” he suggested.

Henry nodded. “Absolutely. And Dr. Russell. It's clear that things are getting out of control.” He pulled open the door. “After you.”

 

“What are you telling me?” Allison asked. They were in
her office, and had just finished relating the encounter with the two different Bakers.

“We think”—Carter glanced at Henry, who nodded for him to continue—“we think that the two Bakers were from the two different Eurekas. The first one was from the other Eureka. That's why he wasn't as friendly toward me, and why he seemed so surprised to see Henry. Obviously something's happened to Henry over there, and he's not in town anymore.”

“The second Dr. Baker was one of ours,” Henry picked up. “He knew us both right away, and didn't seem surprised to see us. He was confused, though, because he said there were too many of them. Too many Bakers. Both his brothers from our reality, and his brothers from the other reality.”

“Which is also why they had different shirts,” Carter added. “You know they all dress alike every day. The Bakers in the other Eureka must be wearing gray shirts with blue roses today.”

Allison thought about what they'd said, drumming her fingers on the desk. “If what you're saying is true—and I'm sure it is—we've got a serious problem. Initially the bleed-over seemed confined to right around Dr. Russell's lab. Then it started spreading through GD. Now you're telling me these other Eurekans are popping up in town as well.”

“And it didn't just start happening, either,” Carter blurted out, realizing something. “Yesterday, on my way over to see Tomas DelSantos and his storm-shaping project, I crossed paths with one of the Bakers. I said hi, and he barely acknowledged me. That's not like them. At least, not these days. But it's the same reaction I got from the first one in Café Diem today. The Baker I saw yesterday wasn't one of ours!”

Allison shook her head. “That's not possible, Carter. We've only just noticed these . . . visitations. And they definitely started in Russell's lab, which makes sense because that's where the equipment is. The DelSantoses are half an hour from here. And you're saying you saw someone from the other Eureka over there yesterday?”

“I know what I saw,” he insisted. Now that he thought about it, the idea made perfect sense.

Allison stood up and stepped around her desk. “We need to speak with Dr. Russell right now,” she declared. “I think we need some serious answers.”

 

“Uh-oh.” Carter kept his voice down as they stepped
into the lab, but both Allison and Henry heard him and stopped.

“What's wrong, Jack?” Henry had learned all too well over the years that Carter's instincts were usually right. And that listening to those instincts often saved lives.

“Look.” Carter gestured toward the main console, where Dr. Russell leaned in close over her microphone. On the large screen, her other self was crouched in as well, and they were whispering hurriedly to each other. “That's not two scientists casually exchanging ideas, or even getting giddy about sharing research. That's two people trying to fix a problem, preferably before the boss finds out.” He flashed a quick grin. “Bet they both jump when I call their name.” Then he raised his voice. “Dr. Russell!”

It didn't take a genius to notice the way both women started and looked up, then flushed and looked away when they heard his shout.

“What's going on, Dr. Russell?” Allison asked, covering the distance between them in quick, strong strides. “People from the other side are starting to appear all over town. What haven't you been telling me?”

“I've—we've been trying to figure that out,” Russell admitted, rubbing at her forehead and the crease that had been there since the other day. “The readings don't make any sense, though. They have to be wrong.”

“What readings?” Henry asked, stepping up beside Allison. Carter hung back. Sometimes having a badge made people too nervous to think straight, and right now he figured they needed Dr. Russell clearheaded. “What did you find?”

“Our realities,” the other Dr. Russell answered, her words echoing slightly from the speakers set up in front of the monitor. “They're side by side. Perfectly parallel, and completely separate. Totally inviolate.”

Henry nodded. “Of course. The parallel universes have been theorized as discs in a platter, suspended at a precise and unwavering distance apart.”

“Exactly.” Dr. Russell looked like she might be sick. “Until now.”

“What do you mean?” All humor and sympathy and friendship were gone from Allison's voice. There was nothing now but steely authority and resounding impatience.

“It has to be our experiments,” the other Russell offered. “Somehow, by tapping into the energy in the other universe, we've transferred some of that energy between our worlds. And with both of us doing that from our respective sides, we've set up a two-way transfer, an exchange. A link.”

“You've connected the two realities,” Henry said softly, studying the readouts flashing by on the monitors. “You've bridged the gap between our universes.”

“Yes.” Russell bit her lip. “But that's not all. Bridging the gap would be dangerous enough—think what could happen if energy from one world wound up in the other without there being a corresponding transfer going the other way? We could offset the energy level of both realities!”

“And energy must remain constant,” Allison agreed. “Neither created nor destroyed. Change that level, and who knows what it could do to our universe?”

“Exactly.” Russell's fingers were tapping nervously on the console's edge, Carter noticed. There was more, and worse, to come. “But it's not just that we've established a link between the worlds. If our readings so far are correct—and we've gone over them a half dozen times already, to be sure—the link is actually pulling our realities closer together.”

Henry made a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a cry. “You've thrown off the balance, and shifted their positions as a result!” he said in little more than a whisper. “Like adding a grain of rice to a perfectly balanced plate and causing it to tip! And they're tipping toward each other!” His eyes went wide. “But if we don't stop that and right them somehow—”

“Our two realities will overlap,” the other Russell confirmed.

Carter stepped forward a little bit and half raised his hand. “And this would be bad?” he asked. The fact that no one rolled his eyes told Carter how serious this was.

“Very,” Allison agreed. “No two things can exist in the same space simultaneously—not two atoms, not two people, and definitely not two universes.” Carter flashed back to the recent incident with the Matter Relocation System, or MRS, again, as it switched buildings and people with other buildings and people elsewhere. “If our two realities were to fill the same space—” She closed her eyes.

“They would destroy one another,” Henry finished for her. “Total, instant annihilation of both.”

Carter nodded. “Right, definitely bad.” He tilted his head and studied the three people—and one image—in front of him. “So how do we stop it?”

“We don't know!” both Russells wailed. “We need to figure out why this is happening, first,” Dr. Russell continued, while her double nodded vigorously. “We can shut down the energy input arrays, of course, but that probably won't be enough to halt their drift. They're already out of position, and still shifting closer and closer, which is why we're having people appear from their world. We have to figure out what caused that change and then reverse it, so we can push our two realities back into place before it's too late.”

Carter started to ask something else, then stopped as the door behind him opened. He turned and glanced back, just as a strikingly beautiful woman stepped in. Average height, well built, dusky skin, long hair, pretty features, lovely eyes. Well dressed, very elegant, but still comfortable and approachable. He looked over his shoulder, then toward the door again.

“Yeah, this was what we needed right now,” he muttered.

“I need to talk to him,” Jo insisted for the fifth time.
“Now.”

“You're welcome to come down here and speak with him during normal visiting hours, Deputy Lupo,” the warden replied. They watched on the video screen at the sheriff's office as he smiled—it was the kind of smile that said, “I hold all the cards, and I'm going to enjoy lording that over you.” “Otherwise, I simply can't help you.”

“Of course you can,” Jo argued. “Get Victor Arlan, bring him to your office, and put him on the phone.”

“That would violate all of our standard protocols,” the warden replied calmly. “We can't go making exceptions for a prisoner just because someone calls and says it's important.” He flashed that same phony smile again. “Not even if it's a valued member of the law-enforcement community.”

“It is important,” Jo snapped, “and it's classified.” Her smile was now a lot sharper, and even though they were hundreds of miles apart the warden gulped. “Do you have top secret clearance?” She widened her smile. “Well, I do. Now get me Victor Arlan.”

“There are rules and regulations to be followed—” the warden sputtered, but Jo tuned out his words because Fargo, sitting off to one side, had just written something on her notepad. It was a single word:

Mansfield.

This time Jo dropped the smile, slumped slightly, and sighed. “Okay, fine,” she said. “I can see you aren't willing to help us out. That's a shame. I'll just have to let General Mansfield know that we weren't able to get the information he'd requested.”

“G-general Mansfield?” The video quality was excellent, Jo thought; she could see the tiny beads of sweat popping up on the warden's brow. “I didn't know, you didn't say!” Of course he knew who Mansfield was—and what he did to people who disobeyed him. The prison was where Eureka sent its convicted criminals, and though nominally part of the normal judicial system, it still answered to the military.

“I didn't realize I needed to,” Jo replied. She paused for effect. “Oh, right—you don't have the clearance to know our command structure.” Her smile sprang back into place, not unlike a steel trap. “Now, then. Victor Arlan?”