The 1960s obsessed, time traveling, mod-chick, UltraAgent TimeTrap has her own short story!
This fun tale takes place after A Surefire Way and Dama X (to be released in 2015). It will be released as part of a FREE short story anthology, A Very Paranormal Holiday, next month. Authors Debra Dunbar, Mark Henwick, Susan Illene, J. C. Mells, and Connie Suttle have contributed paranormal stories with action, romance and lots of supernatural creepy-crawlies to get readers in the holiday spirit.
Nothing says the holidays like vampires, demons and time travelers. :)
I'm so excited to be a part of this anthology with such a talented group of paranormal authors. If you're looking for new authors to read, you'll definitely find new favorites here.
Go to this page to receive your free copy.
Below is the first chapter of The Grandfather Paradox: An UltraSecurity Christmas Story.
Enjoy!
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Chapter 1
“Prohib-what?”
Kali, UltraAgent code name TimeTrap, blinked at the man in a starched linen shirt with a severe part down the center of his greased black hair. The dour-faced guy stood behind what appeared to be mahogany bar, but he refused her drink order because of ...
“Oh, prohibition. Sorry, wrong year,” Kali uttered before calling forth her power. An invisible line tugged at her core, snapping and stretching her backwards through a swirling gray and black blur to her time, her universe, her office at UltraSecurity.
The carpeted floor materialized under her platform boots. Her minimalist desk, lip-shaped couch, pop art soup print, bean bag chairs, and glass bookshelves decorated with drugstore Christmas knickknacks appeared around her.
She blew out a breath. “That was weird.”
Kali turned and slammed into her boss Sean Vivas.
She yelped. Caught off guard, Kali teetered on her heels. Arms helicoptered to keep her balanced but failed. Kali staggered and fell with an “oomph” onto red-lipped cushions, which puckered around her bottom.
The corners of Sean’s mouth quirked up into a smile. He didn’t move to help her. Kali couldn’t tell if it was because she’d surprised him, or Sean enjoyed watching her struggle to stand.
“What are you doing here?” Kali asked with forced cheer.
“Your mother is looking for you.”
Kali shook her head against a stinging sense of déjà vu.
“And what does Deandra want now?” Kali pushed off the couch and pushed away the odd feeling. With the platform boots, she stood eye-level with Sean, just over six feet tall.
“She was expecting you for dinner tonight and hadn’t heard from you.” Sean smoothed a hand over his holiday tie as if smoothing out the wrinkles could redeem the swirling monstrosity of green, red and gold.
“I totally forgot. Well, sort of forgotten about it. I made other dinner plans to get out of it.”
A room filled with Deandra Bordeaux’s Hollywood wannabe friends was not on her must-do list. She’d rather take another Alternate Universe Jump--or alt-jump, she preferred the new slang--to the 1930s. The thought of seeing her mother made Kali long for a stiff drink even more. But she needed to wait at least an hour, maybe longer, to alt-jump again, considering how far back she’d landed in history. The more years she traveled into the past, the more fuel she needed to sustain her power. And she planned on a special alt-jump later tonight so she wanted to conserve energy. This time she wouldn’t overshoot and land in the wrong year. Kali had a date set for Christmas of 1969 to get into the holiday spirit.
Kali strutted past Sean to her desk. She plopped into her chair behind the shiny glass desktop and reached in her snack drawer for a Twinkie.
“How can you eat that crap?” Sean grimaced.
Kali hiked a brow at her boss, the self-appointed office health guru since he started training for marathons. His shoulders did appear wider under his gray blazer. Maybe because he’d dropped a few inches from his waist accentuating his v-shape.
“I burn a ton of calories with alt-jumping or, as the brains call it, quantum transference. So I can eat like crap when I want.” Kali broke the spongey cake in two and took her time licking out the creamy center to show how much she didn’t care for his comment.
Sean shrugged. “Are you here to catch up on work? Make sure you note it on your timesheet. It’s due tomorrow. Don’t forget again.”
Geesh.She’d forgotten once, perhaps twice, to submit her timesheet this year. Now every time Sean saw her, he reminded Kali of her mistake. At least he was consistent.
“Finished the follow-up paperwork for the Madame X case the other day. No assignments at U-Sec for me until after the New Year. I’m assisting your father at TransGen next week. He wants my input on a DoD research proposal for a device that transfers objects through space on a quantum level. Since my power works through quantum transference, I’m the resident expert.”
Kali’s eyes strayed to the Warhol print of Campbell’s Split Pea Soup hanging behind Sean. Her stomach growled. The cream-filled cake wasn’t filling the void.
“Where did you just travel from?” Sean asked. “You muttered that something was weird.”
“1930. Must’ve overshot 1962 somehow. Tried to order a decent Manhattan and was slapped with the whole prohibition thing.” Kali shivered at the memory. “What an awful time to live.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Decent Manhattans? No, which is why I like my favorite pub in 1960s N-Y-C. But thirty years earlier it was drier than the Dust Bowl. Would’ve sought out a speakeasy, but I’m wearing the wrong era.”
She pointed to her mod dress and go-go boots.
“I mean ...” Sean didn’t bother hiding his annoyance with Kali not understanding him. “Do you overshoot by decades often?”
“Now that you mention it.” Kali screwed up her mouth. “It’s been several years since I have.”
When Kali had misjudged her alt-jumps in the beginning, she’d been nervous, unsure how to focus. After five years of living with this power, Kali now considered herself a semi-pro, still perfecting the nuances of dimensional travel. But this last alt-jump left her disoriented as if she’d experienced a disturbance in the universal force that had shoved her off course.
“When my power first manifested, I had a few mishaps. Chased by a T-Rex, almost clubbed by a Neanderthal, put in jail for being a witch. Normal mistakes. If we discover more alt-jumpers or alt-trotters--which is a new term I’m trottingout--pun intended.” She grinned at her cleverness. “If we find others like me, I’m sure they’ll tell similar stories.”
Sean didn’t return Kali’s smile. “None of that happened. I read your reports.”
“Actually, one of them did. I don’t list everything in my reports.” Kali played coy to irritate him, and judging by his pinched lips, she had. “But you bring up a good point. I should test out why this happened. Might’ve been a blip between the universal planes affecting this last alt-trot.”
“Alt-trot sounds like you have intestinal problems. Don’t use that term.”
Sean finding fault. What a shocker.
“Speaking of gastric issues,” Kali paused for Sean to get her inference, “you scared the crap out of me. I have rules for my office. No one in here if I’m not. It’s for my safety, remember? It screws with my mojo.”
“I know.” Sean crossed his arms.
“You were almost in my zone, man.” Kali jabbed a finger at the red circle sewn into the gray carpet.
“I stayed out of your zone,” he tossed back.
“And it’s time for you to get out of my office,” Kali segued into another topic, not caring how Sean took her tone. Hungry and cranky, Kali had enough of him. “I need to contact my friend about our plans tonight.”
“You’re really not going to your mother’s dinner?”
“I’d rather party during the Great Depression with Steinbeck narrating the event than eat dinner at my mom’s house with her celebritant friends.”
“I’d hoped you were going, because she invited me.”
Of course, Deandra would. Sean made the local papers as the Baltimore/D.C. area’s most eligible bachelor. Plus, he could be a stunt double for actor Daniel Dae Kim, whose high, perfect cheekbones could cut a diamond out of coal.(Kali binge watched the television show Lost over Thanksgiving and still didn’t know what happened in the end.) Fifteen years younger than Deandra, Sean was in her mom’s target age range, which made Kali a bit ill, considering Sean was six years older than she. Soon Deandra’s boy toys would be younger than Kali.
Yes, 1930 seemed better and better.
“You don’t want to attend her party,” Kali advised.
“Why not? It’s a great networking opportunity. Potential investors and clients. The CEO of DERST Industries will be there. They’re the largest defense and security contractor in the country. Do you know how long I’ve been trying to schedule a meeting with him about a partnership between DERST and U-Sec?”
“Please don’t make me do this.”
“It’ll be broadcast live on the Real LifeRealityChannel.”
TheReal Life Reality Channel, a misnomer of epic proportions.
“Oh, goodie gumdrops. Even more of a reason not to go.” Kali rested her head in her hands.
“It’s great exposure for our company.”
Kali swore Sean’s eyes lit up with dollar signs.
“You mean your company, Sean. I’m going to get real with you--again, pun intended. My mother doesn’t know what I can do--that I can travel to an alternate universe or teleport from place to place in ours. She has a vague notion I work with TransGen and U-Sec, but she thinks it’s in R&D. I’d prefer to keep her in the darkish gray.”
Sean’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Because it’s none of her business.” And because she’d want me to pick her up an original Vivienne Westwood dress or pop her over to Studio 54 like we were hopping on I-95 to hit up a club in D.C. Or worse yet, she’d want to create a reality show around my exploits and power. Deandra didn’t care what Kali did unless it furthered her own career as a reality star.
“I use an alias at work,” Kali continued. “I’m fortunate that I look different than I did years ago when I last appeared on her show. Plus, my peers are smart enough not to watch that stupid channel. I don’t want to wear a mask at my job. They irritate my face and limit my peripheral vision. And they don’t work with my outfits. People will think I’m trying too hard.”
“Glad you told me. I might’ve mentioned your ability to her at the party. If you do decide to go and risk the exposure, I would be grateful.”
“Does grateful mean a large holiday bonus?”
Sean threw his hands up with an exasperated sigh. “Why would you need a bonus? You’re set. Got a lifelong contract with U-Sec and TransGen. Even make your own hours. As an owner, I wish I had those terms.”
“You want my terms?” Kali folded her hands on her desk. “Well, have an accident occur during your graduate work at MIT--overseen by TransGen--that creates not only this never-before-seen ability but also genetic changes for which you’ll need lifetime medical oversight in case it kills you.”
Sean’s tense expression relaxed. He nodded and put his back to her as if embarrassed that he’d mentioned it.
He should be.
“Don’t forget to call your mom.” Sean stepped into the hall then said over his shoulder, “And don’t forget to submit your timesheet tomorrow before you break for Christmas.”
Kali stuck out her tongue at his retreating back. She stood and walked over to the doorway. Poking her head out, she looked up and down the hall to make sure Sean was gone. The coast clear, she closed and locked the door.
Kali knelt, lifted the edge of the couch and reached underneath the hollow bottom lip. Her fingers wrapped around a notebook, and she tugged it out. Written inside were columns of dates, places and times where she had traveled over the past few years. Kali didn’t want to meet herself by ending up in the same place at the same time where and when she traveled before, especially since she went to one era and place more than others. In fact, Kali worried that she might need to ration her time in the 1960s based on how her logs were filling up. Once Kali added her most recent travel, she tucked the book back into her hiding spot.
Writing it on paper was archaic, she knew. A computer program could keep track and help sort the travel stops. But Kali wanted these trips kept private. With the interconnectivity of computer systems--not to mention Sean’s transhuman ability to connect with electronics through touch--it wouldn’t take much effort for someone to see where and when she’d been. For work trips, she didn’t mind. Kali kept a log on U-Sec’s intranet when she was on their dime. No one needed to know where she’d been on her personal time.
Kali settled onto the foam lip couch. She removed her phone from her dress pocket and turned it on. Several missed calls from her mother. She deleted the voicemails without listening to them. Next Kali texted UltraAgent Inferno to meet at their favorite bar on Charles Street in an hour. She needed this night out with her friend and co-worker, someone from whom she didn’t have to hide her transhuman ability and who understood what it meant to be different.
The text bounced back as undeliverable. She sent it once more. Another error message.
Kali called his number.
The line didn’t ring but beeped, then played a computerized recording, “We’re sorry this number is out of service.”
Kali checked the number and dialed again.
Same spiel.
“Change your number and didn’t tell me? Uncool.” She typed an email to him on her smartphone and hit send.
A second later an error message appeared in her inbox. Address not valid.
Her cell phone rang. Kali answered it without looking at the caller ID. Big mistake.
“Kali, darling, are you on your way? I was worried about you.”
She slouched lower on the couch. “Hey, there, mom, what are you up to?”
“About two scotches.” There was a pause as a hair dryer whirled in the background.
“Sorry, Kali.” Deandra raised her voice over the whirling sound. “They’re trying to tame this great mane of mine. Be lucky you’ve got stringy straight hair, my mass of curls simply takes hours to style. When are you getting here?”
“Remember, I have plans tonight? A friend--”
“Your plans are with me, love, or are your friends more important than your mother?”
Kali sprang up. “Are the cameras on you now? Is our conversation being recorded?”
“Cut!” A male voice cracked across the line. “You’re not supposed to mention the cameras. It’s in your contract.”
“I didn’t sign a contract,” Kali shot back.
“Yes, you did. The one from ten years ago when Deandra was on Real Women in Reality is still valid.”
“I thought there was a statute of limitations,” Kali replied.
“No, it clearly stated an indefinite term. Valid whenever you appear on any spinoffs of Real Women in Reality or affiliate productions of the Real Life Reality Channel. You’re also under contractual obligation to attend holiday specials,” he told her.
“No one has asked me to a taping in years,” Kali said.
“Sweetie, honey, we need you to round out the party. We had a few last minute cancellations,” her mother chimed in.
“And you’ve become desperate enough to ask me,” Kali added.
“You guessed it,” the director said.
Kali shot a middle finger to the phone, wishing she’d enabled the video screen so he could see.
“Kali, do you want to get sued?” her mom whispered, which was a fool’s errand since the director was listening.
Kali released an agonized breath. “Fine, I’ll do it.”
“Okay, let’s roll on three,” the director said.
“Your plans are with me, love, or are your friends more important than your mother?” Deandra repeated with more pout to her voice.
Kali folded her long torso over her legs and hung her head between her knees. She loved theatrics as much as the next person, but her mother sought it out every day. Couldn’t they have a normal holiday meal? Family life had enough drama without it being scripted and directed.
“No, mom, they aren’t.”
“That’s what I thought, my darling girl.”
“I love you.” And Kali did. Deandra was the closest family she had left.
“Did you get it? How did I sound? Not too Mommie Dearest, I hope?” Deandra’s voice became muffled, as she spoke away from the phone.
“Mom.”
“But channeling Crawford might work too. Give me an edge,” she continued talking to someone other than Kali.
“Mom, did you hear what I said?”
“Yes, sweetie,” she finally acknowledged her daughter. “I’ll see you soon. And wear something nice for a change. That 60s look is so 1990s.”
Kali glanced at her pink and red block printed dress. “Confidence will make any style the ‘it’ style. Isn’t that what you once told me?”
“Oh, honey, I don’t know what I’m saying half the time. I think my writers stole that bullshit from some hackneyed celebrity designer. I want you to dress your best for me. This night means a lot. If our ratings are good, then they may do an RWR reunion or a spinoff.”
“Oh, goodie.”
“I knew you’d be thrilled for me. Now don’t be late.” Deandra hung up as the hair dryer started once more.