Linkage: The Narrows of Time
What Others Are Saying About This Novel:
Jay Falconer's tightly compacted story intertwines excellent writing skills, attention to detail, research efforts, and a sense of humor. It's one thing to read a Science Fiction book. It's another to read one written by an intelligent author whose sole purpose is to entertain you and challenge your own abilities to sniff out reality from fantasy. There are more twists and turns to this plot than you would find on a roller coaster. So grab the front car, pull down the safety bar and start reading . . . C. Styles
Linkage is an action packed, Sci-Fi thriller. Falconer weaves a story that is hard to put down. He left me wanting more. Sci-Fi hasn't been a genre I have read much; but, after reading Linkage, I'm a convert. The story is fast-paced and engrossing. The author weaved a tale that starts in a University Physics lab and ends with an inter-dimensional battle for control of the earth. He pulled me in and I wanted to see the characters win. I am looking forward to the second in the series . . . C. Lindsley
Great read. I really enjoyed the fast pace and non-stop action. The twists and turns were well placed, not anticipated and delightful; the story line allowed suspended disbelief and compassion for the main characters. As a U of A grad, the setting was familiar and believable. This book recommended if you like quick paced Sci Fi stories with a touch of humor . . . S. Casey
Jay Falconer has written a complex tale that takes twists and turns you'll never expect. The main characters have depth and come across as such real people, you sometimes forget this is fiction . . . P. A. Duncan
LINKAGE
The Narrows of Time: Book #1
Written By Jay J. Falconer
http://www.JayFalconer.com
Copyright © 2011 Jay J. Falconer
Smashwords Edition ISBN: 9781466096295
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or business establishments or organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
Thank you for downloading this free e-book. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – Tuesday, December 25th
Chapter 2 – Four Days Earlier
Chapter 3 - Resolve
Chapter 4 - Relegation
Chapter 5 - Elegance
Chapter 6 - Vexation
Chapter 7 - Fortitude
Chapter 8 - Saturday, December 22
Chapter 9 - Causatum
Chapter 10 - Sunday, December 23
Chapter 11 - Retrospect
Chapter 12 - Monday, December 24
Chapter 13 - Repercussions
Chapter 14 - Ascension
Chapter 15 - Extrication
Chapter 16 - Tuesday, December 25
Chapter 17 - Tuesday Night, December 25
Chapter 18 - Reflection
Chapter 19 - Wednesday, December 26 12:30 AM
Chapter 20 - Wednesday, December 26 7:02 AM
Chapter 21 - Dreamscape
Chapter 22 - Misdirection
Chapter 23 - Revelation
Chapter 24 - April 25, 2411
Chapter 25 - Relics
Chapter 26 - Continuity
Chapter 27 - Intervention
Chapter 28 - Reciprocity
Chapter 29 - Infestation
Chapter 30 - Exchange
Chapter 31 - Assault
Chapter 32 - Homecoming
This novel is dedicated to the loving memory of John and Dorothy.
Special thanks to the following people for their assistance: David Lathrop, David Heller, Dorrie O’Brien, Jill Falconer, Andrew Cherekos, Vincent Marino, William Myers, Dana Wright, Wayne Benner, Mary Heller, Victoria Cherekos, Steven Cherekos, Julie Sikora, Pam Laux, Lindsay Breen, and Terry Casper.
COMING SOON!
Books 2 and 3 in the Narrows of Time Series:
Visit www.JayFalconer.com
for more information on the Narrows of Time Series.
Chapter 1
Tuesday, December 25
Tucson, AZ
Sanity is a solo act.
That’s what Lucas Ramsay figured a psychologist might say to a patient facing a typical, prescription-grade crisis. He wondered how that same shrink would react if Lucas were on the clock and confessed that a single email, sent in haste during the wee hours of a brisk December morning, was responsible for the death of humanity. Perhaps the doc would say that sanity is mostly a distraction, especially when you’re facing an extinction-level event. Then again, he might not respond at all, but instead, yank out a gun and blast a hole in the middle of Lucas’ forehead as revenge for the death of a loved one.
No one could have predicted how a handful of innocuous bytes would steam their way across the Internet and collide with destiny, forever changing the course of human history. All it took was the slightest pressure of his index finger on the keyboard to transform the planet into a swirling black hole of chaos. The more Lucas thought about it, the more it sounded like the cheesy plot of a low-budget Hollywood premiere. Yet, it was true—irreparably so.
His mind churned with visions of the most recent fatalities on campus. He knew if he closed his eyes, he’d see the agonizing faces of the innocent as their bodies were mangled and ripped apart from the inside. Sure, Lucas had just survived being buried alive along with his foster brother, Drew, and Dr. Kleezebee, but that nightmare couldn’t compare to the torment he faced in his dreams each night—all those beautiful souls wiped out in an instant.
How on Earth did he let this happen? Was he looking the other way when logic tried to flag him down? Or was it simply a case of blind ambition blocking his view? He tried to find the meaning in what had happened, but there were no answers. In the end, what did it really matter when the world was circling the drain? We’re all destined to be worm food, regardless.
Lucas stood up from his wood-grained study desk and leaned forward with his thighs pressing hard against the center drawer. He thumbed through the physics material on the top shelf in his Tucson apartment, looking for his quantum field theory book. He found it next to the reference notes on spatial anomalies, and slid it out. Slips of yellow notepaper fell from within the pages, scattering like forgotten dreams across the river of unpaid bills on his desk. He gathered the notes, trying to put them back where they belonged, when he realized they no longer mattered. Neither did his anti-gravity research. Years of accelerated graduate study, plus eighteen months of tireless research gone in a flash.
Lucas dropped the red, 600-page physics book on the floor when someone started pounding on the front door. The book landed perfectly flat, making a bang that ricocheted through the room like a gunshot. His heart pounded at the walls of his chest, trying to break free from its cage.
“Dr. Ramsay, we need to speak with you. It’s urgent,” a man shouted from the other side of the door.
Lucas walked to the door and looked through the peephole, but could only see a close-up of a man’s face—maybe Hispanic—Lucas did not recognize him.
“Dr. Ramsay, please open up,” the man insisted. “It’s urgent.”
Lucas hesitated, then decided to open the door, expecting it to be someone from the university. Immediately, a second man, a white guy with a dimpled chin, scrambled into view with a rifle point
ed at Lucas’ face. Both men were wearing combat fatigues, equipment packs, and helmets with MP stenciled on the front.
“Wait, don’t shoot!” Lucas said, raising his hands above his head.
“Are you Dr. Lucas Ramsay of the Astrophysics Department?” the Hispanic soldier asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“Is your brother with you?”
Lucas moved a step closer to them with his hands touching both sides of the upper doorframe. He looked past the soldiers, down through the open railing bordering the catwalk outside his apartment, and saw two green Humvee trucks parked outside the manager’s office on the ground floor. To the west and south, massive fires burned as looters took to the streets.
“He’s in the bedroom. What’s going on here?”
“We’re here to take you into custody by order of Major General Rafael Alvarez.”
“What the hell for?” Lucas asked, knowing that martial law had been declared within the Tucson city limits a few days ago.
“For the murder of one hundred and twenty-seven people on campus. Both of you need to come with us, immediately.”
“Look, you need to understand. It was an accident. My brother had nothing to do with it.”
The lead MP opened a pair of handcuffs. “My orders are to detain both of you. Turn around and place your hands behind your back.”
Lucas tightened his grip on the doorframe and braced his feet.
The other MP pressed the open end of the barrel against Lucas’ forehead. Lucas stood firm. He didn’t believe the soldier would shoot.
The MP cocked the rifle and flared his eyes. His face burned a deep red color. “Just give me a reason, asshole.” He pressed the barrel hard against Lucas’ scalp, pushing Lucas’ head back until it hurt.
“You really need to let me cuff you before my trigger-happy partner decides to redecorate your face,” the lead MP said. “Trust me. He’s usually not this patient.”
Lucas didn’t respond. He needed a moment to think.
“You don’t have a choice here, Dr. Ramsay. You’re both coming with us—one way or the other. Doesn’t matter how.”
“Okay, okay. Just don’t hurt my brother,” Lucas said, throwing up his hands.
The MP pulled the rifle back. Lucas turned and overlapped his wrists behind his back. He heard the ratchets closing around his wrists as the shackles were tightened against his skin.
The white MP pushed past Lucas and went into the apartment. Drew was confronted by the soldier the moment he rolled into the room in his wheelchair.
“Hold it right there!” the MP shouted, aiming his gun at Drew. “Hands up where I can see them.”
“Drew, just do as they say. These guys mean business,” Lucas said.
Drew nodded and put his wrists together above his lap and allowed the MP to handcuff them to the arm of the wheelchair. The soldier stood behind Drew as if he were getting ready to push the chair, but instead, opened a Velcro pocket along the front of his equipment vest and pulled out a syringe. He jammed the needle into Drew’s neck.
“What are you doing?” Lucas screamed, struggling to wriggle free from his captor. The Hispanic MP grabbed Lucas’ head and pushed it to one side. He felt a sharp pain on the exposed side of his neck, followed by a warm sensation spreading out under the skin. He was about to pass out when a black hood was pulled down over his eyes.
Chapter 2
Friday, December 21
University of Arizona
Tucson, Arizona
FOUR DAYS EARLIER . . .
Dr. Green had called him a “reckless hack.” Sure, Lucas’ paper on inter-dimensional travel stretched the envelope a bit, but that was the whole point of his submission to the popular online magazine, Astrophysics Today. Someone needed to challenge mainstream science occasionally; otherwise, breakthroughs would never happen.
He could accept that Simon Green hated his theory on inter-dimensional travel, but the senior editor didn’t need to blast him publicly. A traditional rejection letter would have sufficed—Lucas would have saved it with all the others, using it as motivation to push his research even further.
It was obvious the paper triggered something in Green, otherwise, he wouldn’t have reacted with such fury. Even so, the retired physicist crossed the line when he wrote in his blog that Lucas was “Reckless. Undisciplined. Arrogant.” And condemned his theory as “Pure speculation founded on nothing more than adolescent fantasy.” To make matters worse, Green posted the entire thesis, entitled “The Laws of Physics Are Merely a Suggestion,” then highlighted and footnoted the sections that amused him.
Lucas secretly liked the idea of becoming famous, but certainly not this way. His humiliation was now spreading across the Internet faster than a politician sidesteps the truth, coursing through the veins of cyberspace and swallowing his career. If he had to do it over, he never would’ve pressed that damned SEND button.
He wondered if Green thought he was doing him a favor by tearing him down in an effort to keep him grounded in reality. That ploy might have worked with other wide-eyed physicists, but not him. Truth was, he was a resilient, twenty-one-year-old orphan who was hard-wired differently than most. The more Green attacked his skills, the more it fueled his fire.
He had dealt with his share of bullies over the years, but never one that walked with a cane and wore inch-thick glasses—Green was pushing eighty, but the renowned scientist was still a formidable opponent. Green was one of those self-righteous prima donnas who never had an original thought in his life, but had made a name for himself in the scientific community by berating the work of others.
Normally, Lucas would never back down from a fight, but he decided it was best to let this one go. Responding now would only fan the flames, sending his disgrace into orbit. If he later changed his mind, he could always pen a follow-up paper, which, of course, he would send to Green first.
“Probably short circuit the old geezer’s pacemaker,” Lucas muttered, as a smile found the corner of his mouth. “Too bad I can’t tell him about our anti-gravity project. He’d blow a valve for sure.”
Deep down, Lucas knew he would survive this mistake professionally, but what he couldn’t stomach was embarrassing his boss, Professor Kleezebee. He just hoped his mentor hadn’t caught wind of the paper. If he did, there would be repercussions.
Lucas lay on his bed with the edge of the covers just below his chin, trying to get back to sleep, when he felt something crawl across his shin and down the inside of his right calf. “Holy shit!” he screamed, tossing off the covers.
A brown scorpion the size of a hockey puck sat on the sheet, with its venomous stinger arched high above its back. It had crawled into his bed, searching for prey.
Lucas grabbed one of his foster brother’s sneakers and smashed the creature with such force that he jammed his right wrist, but the beast was still alive and coming his way. “Die, you sucker,” he shouted, whacking the invader three more times until its front claws, stinger, and eight legs stopped moving. He hated the stealthy night crawlers almost as much as his adoptive father did, and would’ve gladly used a bazooka to kill it.
“Did he owe you money?” Drew asked from his neighboring bed, rubbing a terrycloth towel across his hair, then his chest and shoulders.
Lucas used the cardboard backing from one of his notebooks to scoop the carcass off the bed and into a plastic cup. “God, you’d think on the third floor we’d be safe.”
“Not with the way those things can climb. They’re relentless.”
“I would give anything to have a few of Dad’s sonic pads to spread around. Goddamn EPA.”
Lucas dumped the creature into the bottom of the toilet and gave it a middle-finger salute. He saw a two-inch black cockroach lying on its back next to the tub, with one set of legs still kicking. It crunched louder than he expected when he stepped on it with the heel of his left foot. He used a Kleenex to pick it up and toss it into the toilet. He used the same sheet of tissue to wipe the creatu
re’s runny blood and guts from his foot.
“We’re stuck living in this shit-hole because of them,” he said loud enough for Drew to hear in the next room.
“Still, you can’t beat the price.”
“Maybe so, but cheap rent doesn’t make up for it.”
Lucas flushed the john, sending the pair of mangled carcasses swirling around the bowl and into the sewer. He flushed the toilet a second time for good measure before returning to the bedroom. “A couple of yappy dogs died and the investors go running for the hills. What a bunch of bleeding-heart pansies. All Dad needed was a second chance.”
Drew nodded.
Lucas moved Drew’s wheelchair closer to the bed, waiting for his brother to slide his frail legs over the edge and onto the floor. “Need any help?” he asked, already knowing the answer that his younger brother would give him.
“No. I got it. Just give me a minute.”
Drew used a handle bar hanging from the ceiling to prop himself up against the side of his raised bed. He could stand for short periods, but could not walk, at least not without assistance. He turned around and sat in the wheelchair.
A shiver ran down Lucas’ spine and he wrapped his arms around his nude body. He walked four steps to the end of the room where the in-wall HVAC system was installed, and rubbed his hands over the output vents. “Hardly anything coming out of this piece of crap.”
“What’d you expect? That thing’s probably older than Sputnik.”
“Even so, you’d think Kleezebee’s Super could find a way to keep this thing working. We could hang meat in here.” Lucas slipped on a pair of navy blue boxers and a faded, long-sleeved red t-shirt.
Drew pulled out a neatly rolled pair of socks from a custom-built dresser compartment under the bed and tossed it to Lucas. They had raised their mattresses four feet off the ground using 4x4 redwood posts and birch plywood from their dad’s workshop.