PART ONE

 

IN THE REALM

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

I found myself standing in a thick carpet of soft green grass in the middle of a lush meadow.

A forest of towering pine trees loomed majestically at the top of the grassy slope, about a hundred yards straight ahead. Flowers grew wild all around me, their sweet scent filling the air. The sky was clearer than I'd ever seen it.

I heard no traffic sounds--no car horns, police sirens, or the distant wail of a train. There was no sign of a building or even a power line. No jet streams overhead. Not even the barking of a dog. Nothing but peace and tranquility, and a sense of calm I'd never experienced before.

This vision was breathtaking. I knew right then that something was very, very wrong.

I didn't recognize this place at all. I couldn't even remember when or how I'd gotten here. All I knew was that this wasn't my condo or my office, and I shouldn't be here. Right now I should be sitting at my desk, sipping coffee while going over my itinerary for the workday. But this obviously wasn't the case. I'd somehow bypassed the trip to the office and come here instead--wherever "here" was.

This sense of serenity was alien to me. I'd been living in cities most of my life. I lived less than half a mile from Semoran Boulevard, one of the busiest highways in Central Florida. I worked in Orlando and took frequent business trips to Tampa, Miami, and Atlanta. I lived by myself but wasn't alone very much at all.

My new surroundings seemed to be telling me that I'd somehow wrenched myself loose from my existence. Yet I felt no fear, no panic. No stress, no tension. Even so, I found myself growing uneasy.

The last thing I remembered was that I was getting ready for work. Work meant getting out of bed, showering, shaving, dressing, fixing a quick breakfast of coffee and buttered toast, and driving to my office. In the evening I'd come home and unwind with a glass of bourbon and an old movie. Sometimes I put Journey or Foreigner on the stereo or CD player; other times, when I felt particularly done in, Moody Blues. I even had a small collection of Coltrane, Louis Armstrong, and Miles Davis CDs for particularly tough unwindings. And, of course, old recordings of Led Zeppelin, CCR, Three Dog Night, and a dozen other classic bands my parents had left me, which I played when I felt the need to zone out completely.

Until six months ago, my wife Claire had served as my sounding board while having drinks before dinner. Now that she'd left, something else was needed to quell the flames of my daily business pressures. For the past few months, relaxing on the sofa after work with my bourbon, listening to "A Whiter Shade of Pale," by Procol Harum, "Nights in White Satin," by Moody Blues, or "Stairway to Heaven," by Led Zeppelin, before fixing supper, seemed to do the trick.

This morning, however, something strange had happened to upset the works. I had no idea what it was, but I was determined to find out. It hadn't been long since I'd left the condo--an hour, maybe, based on my best guess. This meant two hours had passed since I'd gotten out of bed.

My routine hadn't varied much over the years. It was the same regimen I'd followed since I'd graduated from college seventeen years earlier and started the Personnel Counseling job at Drayson Industries in Orlando just three months after that. I'd been at Drayson ever since and was highly thought of at the company. I did my job well. I knew how to deal with people and was largely responsible for achieving the "family feeling" atmosphere Drayson had been known for since I'd started with them.

What was different this morning? What happened after I'd left the condo? And why was I here in this beautiful open field instead of in my office, logging on to the computer while listening to my voicemail?

How did I get here? Had I blinked my eyes at some random moment and somehow accidentally reset time itself, like in some strange sci-fi novel? Or had the gods of the universe decided to relieve boredom by displacing me somewhere else on this one particular day?

The morning had been no different from the hundreds of others preceding it. I couldn't remember doing anything differently. I hadn't gotten out of the bed from the wrong side or hit my head stepping into the shower.

Still, nothing explained what I was doing here or how I'd gotten here. Nothing gave me any clue of what happened from the time I'd left my Winter Park condo to the moment I opened my eyes and found myself in this beautiful field.

I had to find out what happened. I couldn't lie down in the grass and mentally transport myself back to where I was before all this happened. For one thing, I had no idea how to transport myself. For another, I didn't even believe in this concept. Otherwise, I'd simply close my eyes and click my heels. Not a particularly constructive thought, I realized right off. This place--as far as I could tell--wasn't Oz. And I sure as hell wasn't Dorothy Gale. Besides, I'd grown out of that phase when I was a kid. It was a difficult time for me. It had taken the deaths of my grandparents, my pet dog, and a childhood friend, to make me realize magic was merely illusion, and dreams seldom came true. Fantasy was something you saw in movies or read about in books. Reality was what everyone had to contend with on a daily basis.

This felt like fantasy, but the cynic in me told me otherwise. I wanted to believe this was some sort of hallucination. If so, what had caused it? Booze? I'd only had two shots before supper the night before. Drugs? I'd experimented a little in college, but other than booze, I hadn't put anything stronger than an occasional aspirin in my system during the last twenty years.

But even weighing these odds, this still felt like some sort of surrealistic trip. In my world, logic was everything, and if something made no sense, I considered it illogical, and would ignore it. Even so, my brain worked feverishly, struggling to convince me that this was somehow real. And even if I discovered that it wasn't real or logical, I still had to solve it.

The one fact that hit me the hardest was the most obvious: I hadn't come here under ordinary means. The second fact, just as obvious, made even more sense: I didn't belong here.

I'd been working with computers since grade school, but once I matured and began looking at things more objectively, I realized computers were much more limited than what most people thought. Modern technology never provided simple answers, only complicated solutions understood primarily by well-educated, computer-savvy techs. I preferred working with people. The problems associated with people were often just as complicated as any computer glitch or system Abend, but much easier to solve. With a person, a handshake worked wonders. Or a kind word, a simple suggestion, or compromise. With a computer glitch, a tech needed to be called in. Someone else was then required to listen to the tech's recommendations and translate them into everyday language to the workers. With an Abend, calls were made, the job was repaired and rerun, a trouble report written and submitted, and no further action was necessary.

I tried to use my command of logic to evaluate this present problem, but nothing would come. It was almost as if my brain refused to work. Perhaps this was because I couldn't give it any information to work with. I had no memory of coming here, no idea how I'd gotten here, why, or even when. As far as I knew, it happened moments ago. The only thing that registered was the nagging sensation that this beautiful meadow was some sort of destination--or drop-off point--that began with my workday.

Everything I'd done that morning, as far as I could remember, had been routine. Nothing gave me any indication or clue suggesting that once I left the condo and got in my car, the pattern of my everyday life would unravel and propel me into this strange, beautiful world--

Semoran. My brain had blipped when the image of the rush hour traffic flared in my mind.

Was I involved in an accident?

What else could cause something like this? What else could explain my memory lapse, or why I wasn't in the office right now?

I tried very hard to ignore the sense of ultimate tranquility I was feeling. For that, I had to stop gawking at the meadow, the flowers and the trees, and force myself to focus. There were more important issues here that needed to be resolved. This place was beautiful; I felt better than I'd ever felt before. But I couldn't let this cloud the main issue.

Just as I began to focus, another thought came to me. Unlike the others, this one made my blood turn cold.

I must be dead.

What other explanation was there? Right after I'd left the condo, got in my car, pulled onto Semoran, merged into the morning rush hour traffic, and headed south, my existence had just stopped.

Stopped. There was no other term I could think of that could describe any of this. Everything I knew, that had been a part of me, had ceased. My life had simply run its course, and my existence ended.

This latest revelation made me think I might be right about this strange world being my destination. Perhaps I had died and entered this beautiful meadow. For me, eternity could have just started. In this case, there was no need to coax my memory to bring back images of my past.

Even so, that part of me obsessed with facts, with cause and effect, still longed to connect the dots. But no matter how hard I tried to remember, I came up empty. A solid void of nothingness had swallowed up all thoughts, images, feelings, and emotions. As soon as I tried grabbing at anything squirming into my consciousness, it faded and fell into the dark void that had become the center of my mind. At first I thought I remembered hearing the loud, angry roar of an engine--a truck, perhaps, or train--but as soon as the image began to form, it disintegrated, making me wonder if I'd just imagined it.

Dead or not, I had to force myself to forget my fears and do what was necessary. I couldn't just stand here and wait for something to happen.

My heart racing, I closed my eyes and took in some of the sweet air. Ten seconds later, I opened my eyes and looked down. I was wearing the same dark-blue jacket, matching slacks, white silk shirt and light-blue cotton tie I'd put on before leaving the condo. The shiny pointed toes of my tan imported casuals glistened in the sunlight. I hiked up my pant legs and was relieved to see the same black silk socks I'd pulled on that morning.

I was on a roll and saw no reason to stop at this point. I pushed up my shirt sleeve. The wristwatch Claire had bought me nine years ago, on my thirtieth birthday, winked at me. It said 9:07, but the second hand had stopped. I stared at it for a few moments--it didn't move. I brought it to my ear. I heard nothing.

9:07. It had stopped at 9:07. As I stared at it, I immediately began calculating. I always left for work at 8:45 and usually pulled into the parking garage in Orlando at around 9:30--sometimes at 9:45, if the traffic was particularly heavy. 9:07 normally put me a mile or two north of Colonial Drive.

So now I knew something had happened at 9:07 to bring me here. Whatever it was, it had stopped my watch.

Or had time stopped itself?

Enough. All this thinking was making my mind glaze over. I'd already figured out a few things, and except for the dead watch, I should be somewhat relieved. I was standing in a strange meadow in my suit. I could see myself and still had feeling in my limbs. This, of course, meant my nervous system was still working.

Maybe I wasn't dead after all.

To make sure this wasn't just the result of my imagination, I touched my neck...and then my jaw...and finally my nose. I even mussed my hair.

Nothing felt different or weird.

More importantly, everything felt the same.

For good measure, I brought my hands together and clapped, producing a sharp echo that made me flinch as the vibrations hopped up the grassy slope.

I took another deep breath. I discovered that I felt much better than just a minute ago. I was alive. I could feel myself. I still had substance.

So where was I? And what happened?

I needed to investigate. If I could get my brain working again, something might pop out of the darkness and tell me something. I might even find some way of getting out of here and going back to my former life.

I turned back to the slope leading to the pine trees on the other side of the crest and waited for some spark of familiarity. Nothing leaped out, yet I couldn't help wondering if I'd been here before. Was it because the trees themselves looked familiar? The slope? The grass? What was it about this setting that made me feel like I'd been here before?

Bits of my memory trickled back. I remembered growing up in a subdivision on the outskirts of Weirton, West Virginia, in a three-bedroom brick ranch home. The front yard consisted of a narrow strip of lawn my older brother Ned mowed each week. There was a front walk, a mailbox, and a few bushes growing in a reasonably straight row beneath the living room window, and a sidewalk running from the main street at one end of the block to the other end, where another subdivision ran perpendicular to our street. Our back yard went down a grassy slope leading to several hundred acres of woods separating the neighborhood from a large dairy farm. My fondest childhood memories were of Ned, the other neighborhood kids and I playing in the woods and exploring the winding country roads on our bikes.

That was a long time ago, and too many other things had happened to dull the memories. I hadn't gone back home since college but had heard that the neighborhood, like most built in the last half of the century, had gone to seed. I hadn't thought of my childhood home more than half a dozen times since graduating college. I hadn't even thought much about Ned, who stayed in the neighborhood and ran a successful body shop until he'd died of a heart ailment two years ago. We went our separate ways years earlier and saw one another only occasionally, usually during the holidays. Five years ago, Dad died of emphysema at 61. Mom now lived in an assisted facility outside Wheeling. I saw her once a year, on her birthday.

I wondered why my childhood had suddenly flashed by. The last time that happened was when Dad died. A barrage of memories had slammed into my consciousness during the plane flight from Orlando and on the drive to the funeral home.

Had this sudden trip down Memory Lane come back to me because I was frightened? Because, in spite of my recent evaluation, I couldn't stop wondering if I was dead? Or was it because the woods had brought me back to my childhood?

Although most forests looked alike, the underdeveloped areas in Florida had their own signature--palmettos, palms, scrubs, snakes, mosquitoes and flies. Florida pines had their own unique look--tall, slender and anemic, oftentimes standing stooped, their branches wilted and lowered in surrender.

This place looked nothing like Florida, West Virginia, or even Western Pennsylvania. The trees were too massive, too healthy-looking, the brush and the grass thick and robust, the flowers bright and happy.

Once again, I concluded that the answer to this mystery lay elsewhere. The only way to find out what had happened was to start walking.

My mind made up, I left my comfortable spot in the lush grass and began climbing the hill.

My steps felt strange. It was almost as if I was gliding rather than walking. This of course made me wonder once again if I was dreaming. I advised myself not to rush to any conclusions, but to reserve judgment until I'd ascended the hill and looked around. If something clicked, then I could work from there. But until then, my best option was to take it one step at a time.

I reached the top of the hill.

Then I saw her. She was standing a few feet in front of the tree line, watching me.

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

Although we were more than a hundred feet from one another, I could see her quite clearly.

She was tall and slender, with long black hair and dark eyes. She wore a maroon V-necked short-sleeve shirt, jeans, and white open-toed pumps. Stray strands of her windblown hair clung to her cheek.

She was looking up at the sky as I ascended the hill. She seemed confused, possibly as confused as I was--and was trying to get her bearings. When she first noticed me, she turned briefly toward the trees on her right. I feared she might dart into the woods. Instead, she turned back and faced me. She didn't even push the hair away from her face. She seemed to be studying me.

I stopped about ten feet away and continued staring. She was certainly a vision, especially in these strange circumstances. I didn't want to frighten her with any sudden movement. I was frightened as well but knew better than show it. As a man, I was expected to be strong--to keep my fears in check. I was the hunter, the stalker; running away from a beautiful woman was something no sane man should ever do.

I considered the positive aspects of this new wrinkle. Up until just a few moments ago, I faced this strange new world alone. But now there were two of us, and the other person was a beautiful woman. This in itself should cause me instant relief, but instead of rejoicing, I stood stock-still, unable to move or speak.

What was wrong with me?

I had to stay focused. Only moments ago, my brain had suggested that I explore my surroundings. This was why I climbed the hill in the first place. But the sudden appearance of this beautiful creature had changed everything. Now I found that I had no idea what to do next.

I was a grown man, for God's sake. I was a respected businessman and dealt with all sorts of people every day of my life. I'd known a lot of women and had affairs with some of them. I'd even been married and divorced. In other words, I should have learned all about the facts of life long before now. What was my problem now?

It was trust, of course. I wasn't sure if I believed my own eyes. I feared that if I moved even one step closer, this woman would vanish, and I'd be alone again.

She continued staring. I tried reading her expression, but in my present state, I didn't think anything I could come up with would be accurate. Was it suspicion I saw in her eyes? Or relief? Did she want me to approach her? Or was she waiting for me to turn around and leave her in peace?

Once again, I expected her to vanish.

What if she was just as real as I was? What if she was waiting for me to start talking?

I began wondering if she lived around here. She might be taking a leisurely morning stroll. For all I knew, she might own all this beautiful land. If so, I was trespassing, and she wouldn't appreciate my being out here. This could be why she was staring at me. She could be waiting for me to turn around and get off her property. I expected her to reach into the pocket of her jeans and pull out a cell phone.

That could be a blessing in disguise. If she called the cops, they'd show up in just a few minutes and arrest me. And once they took me to their station, I'd know where I was and maybe even discover what happened.

She continued watching me. Then she reached up and pulled some hair away from her face. "Hello."

Her voice startled me, and my thoughts disintegrated as if they'd just been swallowed up by the same dark emptiness that had taken over my mind earlier. The vision had actually spoken.

"Hi."

"Is this...your place?"

I felt some relief when I suddenly realized that a portion of the puzzle had just been cleared up. She'd just asked me where we were. If she lived here, she wouldn't have asked that question.

Apparently she was just as lost as I was.

I realized right then that this was probably not a good thing.

"No."

She continued staring, the confusion clear in her large dark eyes. "This is gonna sound really odd, but I have no idea where I am or how I got here. Do you happen to know what's going on?"

"I wish I did." I was surprised that my own voice worked. I took a few slow, cautious steps in her direction. I expected her to back up, but she didn't.

"Any idea where we are?"

"None."

She turned back to the woods. She still didn't reach into her pocket. This made me wonder if she even had a cell phone. I noticed that she wasn't carrying a handbag. This was very, very odd. I couldn't remember ever seeing a woman walking around without her handbag. I'd never been with a woman before who didn't have one with her at all times. Not out of the bedroom, anyway.

But this was an extreme situation. She was also wearing high-heeled, open-toed pumps--not the sort of footwear suitable for walking around in the woods.

When she turned back to me, she appeared frightened. She reached up and pushed more hair away from her cheek. Her hand shook a little. "Do you happen to know...how we got here?"

Lying to her wouldn't accomplish anything. It might make her feel better temporarily, but then I'd have to keep the lies going, and I'd never been a good liar.

"I wish I did, but I don't have a clue." I stopped about ten feet from her and took her in without being obvious about it. I'd learned years ago that women liked being admired--as long as the man was sensible about it. But since she was obviously on edge, things would go downhill in a heartbeat if she suspected she had to worry about me as well.

Still, I couldn't help noticing every delicious detail about her. She was about five-ten in her two-inch heels, making her just an inch or so shorter than me. Her eyes were very large and dark brown, with thick lashes. Her lips were full, her cheekbones high and sharply chiseled. I guessed her to be in her early or mid-thirties. She was small-breasted, with a tiny waist and long legs. Her hands were large, her fingers long, her nails long, manicured, and painted red. I wondered if she'd once been a model.

"This is really strange." She took a few steps to my left in the tall grass, careful to pick up her feet so she wouldn't trip. Her butt was shapely and the perfect size for her figure. "I'm sure I've never been here before. How about you?"

"I don't recognize this place, either."

"But we're both here." She began trembling.

"Yes."

"And neither of us knows how we got here."

"Right again."

"And this obviously happened quickly, before either of us knew

what was happening."

I perked up. "What makes you say that?"

She gestured. "You're wearing a suit."

I'd been so preoccupied in trying to determine if I was alive or dead and hadn't considered that minor detail. She'd just made me feel like an idiot.

She had another look around. Some of her hair had fallen in front

of her face again. She pushed it away, this time more impatiently. Then she took a deep breath. When she turned to me, she looked angry. "Aren't you curious about all this?"

"Of course."

"You're holding it in pretty well."

I shrugged. "I'm struggling with it, too--believe me."

"Maybe if we start from the beginning, we might get an idea of what's going on."

"What do you mean?"

"If we start talking to each other, maybe we can figure out why we're here...or how we got here."

"That sounds like a plan. You go first."

"All right. Where'd you come from?"

"Originally?"

"What's the first thing you remember?"

"I was standing in that meadow, about a hundred yards from here."

"Nothing before that?"

"Not a thing."

She thought that over. "All right, you were in the meadow. Then what happened?"

"I decided to climb the hill back there so I could see what's on the

other side of these woods. I wanted to look around and check out this place. I'm hoping I'll eventually find out something once I start looking. What happened with you?"

"I opened my eyes, and I was right here. I was about to walk down that hill to do some exploring myself, but when I saw you, I...well, I thought maybe you lived here or something."

"I thought the same thing about you."

She shivered. "Damn, this is scary..."

"And you were right here when you woke up?" I asked.

"Actually, it didn't feel like I woke up."

"How did it feel?"

"Ever watch a movie where they change the scene so abruptly, you feel like they took out something?"

I nodded. "You're on the right track, but to me, this feels a little different."

"How?"

"You're sitting through an endless batch of commercials. You zone out, and when the show you were watching finally comes back on, you suffer a brain blip and can't remember right off what you'd been watching."

"That sums it up, too. In this case, it feels like a huge portion of our lives was just snatched away in an instant." She rubbed her temples. "I should be freaking out by now. I don't know why I'm not."

"It won't solve anything. At least there are two of us now. That's something, isn't it?"

She blinked. "How does that help?"

"Two minds now, rather than one."

"I guess that's one way of looking at it..."

"It's the only thing we've got. So I guess our only option right now is to keep our heads and figure this out a step at a time."

She frowned. "And just how do we do that?"

"By doing what we were doing a minute ago. Let's get back to the moment you found yourself here. You said you were right here, in this spot."

She nodded. "I was so shocked and confused when I saw all these trees, I was afraid to move. And you were in that meadow?"

"Yes."

She looked past me, squinting. "It seems to go on forever. Did you see anything else?"

"All I saw was the meadow."

"I can understand why you wanted to check out the woods."

"I think that's still a good idea."

She didn't reply. She began trembling again.

"It beats standing here and wondering, doesn't it?"

"But those woods...they look like they go on forever, too."

"We've got to find out, don't we?"

She nodded.

"Who knows? There might be a subdivision on the other side of the tree line, for all we know."

She smiled. "With wild kids running around, screaming? And stray dogs lying in the middle of the street?"

"That's it. Aim high."

She laughed.

"If we're really lucky, we might even find a Walmart at the end of that trail."

She laughed again. "You're starting to sound delirious."

"You've got a point there." I moved toward the path leading through the woods.

She stayed where she was. Even after our faint attempt at humor, she was too frightened to leave her spot. She probably felt more secure there. But I didn't want to leave her here. Even though I now knew she was real, I didn't want her to vanish if I turned my back. "Well, why don't we both start walking and see what happens?"

She just stared at me. She probably didn't want to tempt fate in those heels.

"Think you can walk in this thick brush?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Your shoes. They're not exactly hiking footgear."

She looked down as if she'd forgotten what she had on her feet.

"I'll be all right." She raised her head slowly. Her brows pushed together. She'd obviously remembered something.

"Something wrong?"

"I think...I think I've walked through the woods in heels before."

"These woods?"

"No..."

"Somewhere else, then?"

"Yes--no." She shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just...I

don't know. I thought I remembered something, but..." She shrugged. "I just don't know."

"We'll be okay." I figured she needed reassurance.

"You're just saying that."

"No. I really think we'll be okay as long as we keep our heads and don't switch off."

"Easier said than done."

"We've got no choice."

"Tell me how I'm supposed to do that."

"Do what? Keep our heads? Or don't switch off?"

"Yes." After a few moments, she smiled.

"Keep smiling," I said.

"Why?"

"Just do it. It's helping, believe me."

"Are you gonna smile, too?"

"I really don't smile much."

"Why not?"

"I don't think I have a very good smile."

"Why not?"

"I've always been the serious type. When I was in high school, some girls told me I had a stupid smile."

"You're not in high school anymore."

"I know."

"You're older."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now do it."

"Do what?"

"Smile."

I did what she said.

She studied it and scowled. "Nothing's wrong with your smile."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You're not just saying that?"

"No. You have a nice smile."

"Thanks. Let's go."

She took a deep breath and nodded. Then she reached out for my hand. I took it. It was cold, but I held it firmly. She bit her lip and nodded again.

"We'll do this slowly." I felt more confident since she'd taken my hand. I didn't know if that had been her intent, but that's how it made me feel. "I'll be right beside you."

She closed her eyes and nodded. She still grasped my hand, and I felt the pressure increasing slightly. This was my cue to stay calm. I had no idea what I could do if we suddenly faced danger, but at least now she realized she wasn't alone anymore. Sharing something horrendous with someone frightened could turn awful quickly. I was scared too, but I couldn't show weakness. If I did, she'd come apart.

"You're making me feel...a little better."

"Like I said, I think we'll be all right."

She continued squeezing my hand. "Okay..."

"It beats standing here, waiting for someone to rescue us, doesn't it?"

Her eyes grew. "You think that might happen?"

"Have you seen a plane out here? Have you heard any traffic?"

"You're right. We're on our own, aren't we?"

"For now, anyway."

She nodded. After a few moments, she let go of my hand.

Together, we began moving cautiously through the thick brush.