Gravity Rising (The Parallel Multiverse Book 2) Read online

  “Rarely lock’em, anyway,” Geoff said. “Nothin’ there t’steal.”

  “If you say so. Do you suppose we might get started? I have a lot to accomplish and I do not want to be caught in the next storm.”

  Geoff lurched once, in what appeared to be a chuckle. “Don’t blame you. Let’s take the SnoCat over there by the door.”

  “I don’t think I’d like to be caught in a storm either,” Larry said. “I happened to me a few weeks ago, and that was quite enough for one lifetime.”

  “Abby will keep an eye on the weather,” Winkleman said. “If things begin to deteriorate, she will call me.”

  Winkleman pulled himself up on the metal ladder to the cab of the SnoCat and pulled the door open. Larry helped Maggie reach the first step of the ladder, and then she scampered up to the cab.

  “Cold in this garage,” she said.

  “This ain’t cold,” Geoff said as he waited for Larry to climb the short ladder.

  He then followed and pulled the door closed as he clambered into the cabin of the vehicle. He dropped into the driver’s seat and pushed a couple of buttons. The instruments on the dash panel came to life. He pushed another button, and the garage doors rolled open with a groan. With a whine and thrumming of tracks, the SnoCat moved out of the garage. Geoff pushed the button again and watched as the door rolled down.

  “Always gotta watch that door,” he declared. “Sometimes it hangs partway. Good way to burn out a motor.”

  “Why have you not had it repaired?” Winkleman asked.

  “Getting money from the city is tough,” Geoff said. “There is always something else that needs work.”

  “Like plowing the field,” Winkleman said.

  “That, too. The accumulators on the snowplow aren’t strong enough to get me all the way through without at least one recharge. Can’t get approval to replace the accumulators.”

  Winkleman shook his head. “I’ll make a few pointed suggestions. With the roads snowed in, air travel becomes critical. If there were an emergency, and we could not get an aircraft in here, you would be in trouble.”

  “I tried explaining that to the airport commission, and they just say there’s no money.”

  Winkleman gazed at the unbroken snow in front as they rolled along what was probably the road. “You haven’t been out today.”

  Geoff shook his head. “I slept in the office last night. The way it was blowin’ I thought I might not make it home.”

  Urbana was an expansive town, though lightly populated. The ruins of the old university dotted the landscape and lent a foreboding air to the environment. Most of the people lived in a small area and the houses huddled under the previous night’s snow. The drifts made the low buildings of the new college unimpressive.

  Geoff worked the SnoCat under the portico of the main building and stopped.

  “End of the line folks,” he said. “I need to get back to the field. Call me when you’re ready to leave.”

  “Right,” Winkleman said. “Thank you for the transport into town.”

  Geoff sketched a salute as they climbed out. The whine of the motors was pronounced as the SnoCat drove away. Larry and Maggie quickly followed Winkleman into the building, to escape the bitter cold. Once in the lobby, Maggie looked around and sniffed at the unimpressive construction. The blocks in the walls were set unevenly and even the paint looked slapdash.

  Someone had been watching for their arrival and a slim, young man in his thirties stepped up to them.

  “Arthur, it is good to see you, as usual,” he said, shaking Winkleman’s hand.

  “Please allow me to introduce Lawrence Berthold and Margaret Bosstic. This is President James Fledarman of the Urbana College.”

  Maggie and Larry shook his hand. “Very pleased to meet you,” Larry said.

  “I am anxious to hear about your credentials, both of you,” Fledarman said. “We are starved for qualified professors at our small school.”

  “I hope that we can be of some help,” Maggie said. “We are excited about the opportunities.”

  “I have asked our provost to give you a tour of the place,” Fledarman said. “You will also get to meet most of the faculty and some of the students.”

  “That would be very good,” Larry said. “We were delighted when Arthur offered to bring us here this morning.”

  Fledarman grinned. “And I suppose he scooped you up on the spur of the moment.”

  “Something like that, yes,” Larry murmured.

  “That’s our Arthur. He has more energy than any five people I know. Very well, if you will come with me I will introduce you to the provost. Then, Arthur and I can get to our meeting.”

  They followed him down the hall to the third door on the left. It was open, and the older man was working industriously at his desk.

  “Dave,” Fledarman said, “this is Lawrence Berthold and Margaret Bosstic. The Paladin will be funding their terminal degrees and bringing them here to help us. And this is David Fitcher, our provost.”

  The man was fairly short when he stood up. He rushed around the desk and stuck out his hand.

  “I am so glad you were able to visit today. We were excited when the Paladin told us about you. I am glad to finally meet.”

  “Yes,” Fledarman said, “are you able to give them the tour?”

  “I would be delighted. If you will excuse us, President, Paladin?”

  “Of course, Mr. Provost,” Winkleman said. “Permit us to get out of your way. James and I have several items to clear off the agenda.”

  Fitcher led them further down the hallway. “The Paladin is really a wonderful man. He has been a patron of this college for several decades. I don’t think we would have survived without him.”

  “Have you known him long?” Larry asked.

  “I was one of his recruits. I was teaching history in Florida and he actually came to visit. At the time he was not the Paladin, of course. But, he was already a successful businessman. I guess I have known him for forty years. I consider him a wonderful friend.”

  “We didn’t know he was the leader of the Palatinate,” Maggie said. “We kind of stumbled across it.”

  Fitcher laughed softly. “The Paladin does not put on airs. That is one of the things that makes him so… winsome. He does not take himself too seriously. But he is highly intelligent and knows how to get things done.”

  “He certainly convinced us,” Larry said.

  “Well,” Fitcher said, “shall we proceed?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The provost was an engaging host. As he walked Maggie and Larry through the facility, he told clever stories about the individual rooms along with notable faculty and students. The school itself was not large, but Fitcher’s talkative spirit kept them entertained and they were surprised to arrive at the small cafeteria.

  “You are our guests today,” he said, “so, feel free to partake of anything on the menu.”

  The room held maybe a dozen people, most of whom Fitcher had introduced to Larry, and whose names he promptly forgot. It was almost crowded. The provost led them over to a small buffet where they picked up plates at one end.

  “This looks really good,” Maggie said, as she picked up a ladle and placed some chicken and noodles on her plate.

  Larry selected a Salisbury steak, along with mashed potatoes and gravy. A helping of sweet corn completed his choices and he looked around for a table.

  “Oh, I have a table reserved next door in the private dining room,” Fitcher said. “It gets a little tight in here.”

  He had grabbed a plate and arranged a selection of vegetables on it. He led the way and they followed through a door into the next room. It was not decorated any differently than the cafeteria – the same painted block walls and polished concrete floor. But the only other people in the room were Arthur Winkleman and James Fledarman. They were seated at a square table and were deep in conversation as they ate. Fitcher led them to a table on the other side of the room.


  “We can sit here,” he said. “I imagine the president and the Paladin do not wish to be disturbed.”

  “Arthur has given us plenty of attention,” Maggie said quietly. “I would not want to upset him. We owe him a lot.”

  “The Paladin has been a bit cryptic in telling us what his plans are with you.”

  Larry and Maggie looked at each other. Finally, Larry spoke. “I don’t want to sound disrespectful, but you would have to talk to Arthur about his plans. He hasn’t sworn us to secrecy or anything, but I am a little uncomfortable about blabbing about it.”

  Fitcher raised his hands slightly. “Oh, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I apologize. You are completely correct. The Paladin will let us know what we need to know in his good time.”

  They ate quietly for a time before the provost spoke again. “So, what do you think of our winter weather?”

  “It is not so very different than what we have in Boston. It seems to blow harder, though.”

  “We do get the winds,” Fitcher said. “They come in from the Great Plains and there is not much to slow them down.”

  “I believe it is just as cold where we are from, though,” Maggie said. “It was nearly as cold in Columbia.”

  “There is a lot of debate about whether we might be sliding into another ice age,” Fitcher said.

  “I think we are going through a cold period in the climate,” Maggie said. “From what we can tell from the previous ice age, it came on suddenly. There were places that went from spring-like weather to really cold in a matter of hours. Some frozen animals were discovered in the arctic with grass and spring flowers in their stomachs.”

  “Really?” Fitcher exclaimed. “I had not heard that. Are you sure of your information?”

  Maggie nodded. “I have had to do a lot of research in this area. A lot of the source material is very old – from back in the twentieth century, in fact.”

  “How would you have access to that?” he asked. Then he blushed. “Please, forgive me. I am pushing again. I was in the debate society when I was working on my first degree, and I love to poke at statements.”

  Maggie grinned. “Quite all right, Dr. Fitcher. I drive Larry crazy when I debate with him over everything he says.”

  “And she does, too,” Larry commented.

  “Hush, you. And perhaps I should apologize,” she continued. “I am working on my doctorate in Climatology.”

  “Is that so?” Fitcher said. “I must talk to the Paladin. You would be a perfect addition to our school here.”

  Larry and Maggie looked at each other, and then down at their food.

  “And I have gone and embarrassed you again,” he said. I seem to be stepping on my tongue all over the place today.”

  Maggie grinned sheepishly. “No, it’s my fault for leading you on, Sir.”

  “So, we could have a debate on who is at fault,” he said with a grin. “What fun!”

  Maggie laughed. “We could settle it the way I do with Larry. I just tell him it’s all his fault.”

  Fitcher laughed delightedly. “You are very good, young lady.”

  He looked at Larry. “I must say you are lucky in your choice of friends.”

  “I really don’t know if we are friends,” Larry responded. “We have known each other since third grade.”

  “Sort of like brother and sister, then.”

  “That is it, exactly,” Maggie said. If we weren’t so close, we would probably kill each other.”

  They heard a slight trill from across the room, and Winkleman pulled out his phone. He talked on it for a few moments and then placed it back in his pocket. He and Fledarman talked for a few more minutes and then stood up. Arthur walked over to their table.

  “Abby just called. It looks like the weather may turn bad. She suggested we leave for the airport immediately.”

  Larry and Maggie stood up, as did the provost. Larry reached out and shook his hand.

  “Thank you for the tour and the wonderful lunch, Sir.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Maggie added. “We can debate about the climate again sometime.”

  “I would enjoy that,” Fitcher said. “Thank you for coming to visit.”

  Then they had to walk quickly, again, to follow Winkleman from the room. In the time it took for them to put their coats on and walk outside, the SnoCat was just pulling up to the door. The wind had kicked up and was driving snowflakes sideways from the north.

  “I’d suggest y’might want to stay in Urbana, tonight,” Geoff said as he pulled the vehicle away from the school buildings. “It’s gonna really blow here this afternoon.”

  “I must get back to Indianapolis,” Winkleman said. “Abby said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  Geoff looked over at Arthur with a raised eyebrow. “If’n ya say so, Sir.”

  Arthur chuckled and put his hand on Geoff’s shoulder. “We will be fine.”

  Larry and Maggie looked at each other. Larry rolled his eyes but said nothing. The trip to the airport was made in silence, interrupted only by the whine of the motor and the buffeting of the wind. The door to the garage opened as they arrived, and Geoff drove inside. The door came down and they climbed out. They could hear the structure of the buildings booming and rattling in the wind.

  “It is getting rough out there,” Maggie said.

  “I believe we shall be fine,” Arthur said. “I trust Abby.”

  They walked through the door into the hangar where a nervous looking Abby Creitzman waited.

  “Sir, we might be wise to wait until tomorrow,” she said.

  “Can you get us into the air?” Winkleman asked.

  “Most certainly. However, this storm is sweeping down from the north. I am concerned Indianapolis will close before we can get there.”

  “Then we should depart immediately,” he said.

  “Is this safe?” Maggie asked.

  “Oh, Abby is a great pilot,” Arthur said. “We should have no problems.”

  Larry leaned down to Maggie and whispered, “I really do not want to go up in that. Being stranded out in the snow before was plenty for one lifetime.”

  “I think Abby knows what she is doing,” Maggie whispered back.

  Winkleman turned to the driver and shook his hand. “Geoff, thank you for the transportation.”

  “My pleasure, Paladin.”

  Abby had already climbed into the cabin of the grasshopper. Arthur followed; and then, Maggie and Larry climbed in. She powered up the systems and began spinning up the fans. Geoff opened the hangar doors and a cloud of snow blew in with a swirl.

  Abby keyed her radio. “Indianapolis Control, Palatinate One departing Urbana for Indianapolis.”

  “Roger, Palatinate One. Weather here is clear, temperature fifteen, winds thirty and gusty.”

  Winkleman nodded. “See, we’ll be fine.”

  Abby spared a moment to give him a quick glare and then lifted the little craft into the air. Once outside of the hangar, the wind immediately tried to flip the grasshopper over. Abby fought the controls as she struggled to gain altitude. Maggie dug her nails into Larry’s arm and squealed. Winkleman said nothing as he watched straight ahead.

  The wind was a subdued hiss inside the quiet of the cabin. They could clearly hear the fans alternately spinning to full power and dropping to an idle as Abby wrestled with the contrary winds. The rhythmic popping of Abby’s chewing gum was audible as well.

  “Uh, sorry about that, Folks,” Abby said. “The wind was a little unsettled close to the ground. It should be a better now. But, I don’t think you should unbuckle.”

  “I can sympathize with the falling leaves in the autumn winds,” Arthur said.

  Larry snorted. “Arthur, if you will permit me to say so, you are a master of understatement.”

  He looked back at them with a small grin. He looked pale, however.

  Abby leveled the craft at five-thousand feet and pressed to the east. They were subjected to constant buffeting.
r />   “If anyone starts to feel ill,” Abby said, “be pleased to grab a barfy bag from the seat pocket. I will not have anyone ralphing in my aircraft.”

  “Palatinate One, Indianapolis Control.” The voice exhibited a sense of normality as the sound suddenly came from the speakers in the cabin.

  “Control, Palatinate One,” Abby calmly replied.

  “Palatinate One, Indianapolis Field is under derecho conditions. Suggest divert to alternate.”

  “Control, which alternates are open?”

  There was a pause and Arthur spoke up. “Derecho? This is November. One does not have summer thunderstorms in November. I must have a word with them about their word choices.”

  No sooner had he spoken when the cabin lit up in an actinic glare, followed immediately by a heavy boom of thunder. It grew quiet in the cabin again.

  “Perhaps I was hasty,” Arthur said.

  Abby continued popping her chewing gum. There was a two-minute wait before they heard from Indianapolis again.

  “Palatinate One, Indianapolis Control. Suggest divert to Louisville. You should be able to beat the front.”

  “Negative, Control,” Abby replied. “Louisville is outside of our range.”

  “Palatinate One, Indianapolis Control. Suggest RTB Urbana.”

  “Negative, Control. Urbana is closed. We nearly didn’t get out.”

  The radio grew quiet again. When it spoke again, it was in a different voice.

  “Palatinate One, this is Indianapolis Control Actual. Please confirm passenger manifest.”

  Abby looked over at Winkleman and then responded. “Control Actual, Palatinate One. Four pax aboard including Palatinate Actual.”

  “Palatinate One, can you make Terre Haute?” Control Actual, who was the senior air controller, maintained his confident, relaxed voice, but it seemed to Larry there was an undercurrent of fear.

  Abby began tapping commands on the screen in the center of the flight instruments. The screen showed bright yellow across the upper half. A blue line traced from Urbana and then jagged to the south. It looked like they were over Crawfordsville at the moment.