“Can you change back now?” I asked and heard a winding slice of fear in my words.

“Turn around.”

I did and listened to all the sounds I’d heard when she changed into the beast, plus a powerful scream that tore into my heart. When silence enveloped me and I heard what I knew was her hitting the floor, I spun around and scooped her into my arms. She was naked, covered in sweat and a kind of slim, but I refused to release her. Of course, she was unconscious so she had no say in what I did.

I scooped up her clothing after gently setting her against the wall. She felt smaller as if the change had shrunken her. Then I pushed the open button, saw the laser scans, and backed past them with her balled up against my torso. It was a struggle to keep me between her and the security scans.

I couldn’t explain how but we made it through. The doors closer and the elevator began rising not quickly but steadily. Sitting with her in my lap, I felt the grief of regret again churn eagerly in my head, with the tiny voices I called reminders gleefully informing me I’d just perform another soon-to-be-fatal-for-someone else decision.

Which was the moment I saw a small rectangular door set in the wall of the elevator marked ‘lasers handle with care’. I set Margaret carefully down and crawled across the elevator, opened the door and discovered an assortment of laser weapons. Why were they stored there? I didn’t take time to think it through, but was vastly tired of feeling defenseless.

I selected a hand held, and a shoulder cannon with extra charge packs, fully charged. After flipping them both on and watching the indicator lights show both were fully functional, I finally felt comfortably armed to fight whoever or whatever might attempt to hurt or kill us.

Yeah, I should’ve questioned the weapons availability. But when I glanced over to see Margaret as I’d left her, abandoned, vulnerable, looking utterly defeated, I didn’t think beyond my growing emotions for her. When I saw her chest rise and fall, relief joined everything else. I went back to sit alongside her and pulled her against my side so I could wrap an arm around her waist.

She sighed, her eyes fluttered and opened, her mouth parted enough so her tongue might wet her lips. And yeah, I knew I was in trouble. Loving a creature woman from the first half of an historically missing century, well, what else might I do? I wondered.

The elevator rose and sleep greeted me as exhaustion overwhelmed.

I woke to a humming electric sound, looked around and watched as a door in the wall next to, us rolled up and a tray of food and drink stood behind it. I stood and collected everything realizing it was rations for one.

The next day was much the same as the days on the boat, except we were in a tunnel with lights flicking on as we approached and off behind us as went deeper into it. I was appreciating the fact that I’m not claustrophobic when the tunnel ended rather abruptly. It turned sharply left and; we were confronted by a pair of doors that could only have been to an elevator. Down or up? We were soon to find out.

Margaret had been talkative when we started out, but grew more and more silent as we walked. I asked twice if there was a problem she needed to discuss. Both times she just shook her head and stared at her feet.

I truly hadn’t expected to grow to care for her, and for some time thought I’d managed to forego the emotional entanglement, but her silence lifted a sense of unease into my chest that I knew was caused by what I’d tried to avoid. Did I love her? I wasn’t certain, but it was quite possible I’d at least begun to by then.

I raised both hands and spread them in front of me. “What do you think we should do now?”

“I don’t know if I can go on.” Her voice was small, lost as if the vibrant life I’d grown to expect had been squeezed into a tiny painful ball of doubt.

“Why?” I asked apprehensively.

“Read the sign.” She pointed an unsteady finger at a small brass plate mounted on the elevator frame’s right side above a single button that read ‘open’ in more languages then I knew did or could exist.

I walked closer and read, “Humans from the 21^stcentury must turn back.”

Slowly, I looked over my shoulder. “What the hell is this about?”

“What I’ve been afraid to tell you.”

“Why you’ve been so quiet?”

She nodded and I swore I saw tears rimming her eyes. “I’m not what you think I am.”

“And what do you think I think you are?”

She sobbed and dragged in an obviously painful breath. “Normal human.”

“You sure look, smell, and feel normal.” I went to stand before her, with a strong desire to take her in my arms, but I resisted when I witnessed her eyes changing. The large blue centers shrank as a ring of red with an outer ring of gold crowded the blue as if concentrating it, or imprisoning it.

She took several large steps back. her head blurred like it was vibrating. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she slowly dropped to the floor now writhing and shifting, becoming something quite obviously not human.

In what seemed like an hour, but was not much more than a minute, I stood facing a creature both terrifying and beautiful. Her body was that of a crimson female lion, but with a human head and massive wings. She had the claws of the creature she’d become, but the face was still enough Margaret that I knew I was not imagining anything. She spread her wings, glorious feathers fanning patiently. Then she stood on her hind legs and towered over me.

“I am not human as you are.” She sounded human but also something vastly more powerful and deadly if necessary.

My mind ran though what I’d read years back about the early 21^stcentury and again landed on med-tech altering DNA to create invincible warriors. And right then I stood before their accomplishment.

I believe it was at that moment I knew beyond doubt we were not on the planet earth unless we’d been transported centuries into the future. Since I had witnessed the destructiveness of the pandemic, I judged that earth had no more then a generation of humanity left.

And without humanity, who would create this world, this technology?I rubbed my eyes with both hands feeling that if I asked the wrong question, the answer might loop me into a place in my mind where insanity ruled consciousness.

“Hey,” Margaret’s voice sounded quietly caring. “We are going to survive all this.” She waved a hand at our surroundings.

“I suspect we will but this is not what truly concerns me.”

“What it?”

“Whoever created everything.” I looked into her eyes and saw a confidence that defied logic. “You don’t agree.” I said since a question would’ve been out of place then.

“This time you need to trust my opinion, okay?”

I drew a deep breath ready to argue my point and then thought, Oh to hell with it.

“I will,” I said and that drew a huge smile that made my heart skip.

She stood and reached for my hand, and once I was on my feet, she led me into the bathroom, the shower once undressed and after the nearest sleeping area.

As we lay with our shoulders and hip touching, I turned to look at her. “What was it like in 2028?”

“I’m basically apolitical, never bothered choosing a political party. Guess you might say I’m an independent so I have the freedom to vote for whoever I wanted.”

I shrugged enough so she could feel it. “We don’t have anything resembling politics. We have a mainframe that searches for the best, qualified person for each position in government. The snag is that the comp must find the best qualified but also someone who abhors the idea of governing on any level.”

She laughed lightly. “Must be interesting. Are they forced to govern then?”

“They are, but mostly they consider the obligation a civic duty and serve the required years and then step aside. That way we always have people in charge that will do their best for their, constitutes and not use the job as a get rich scheme.”

“God if you only knew what we have running out country. Hell, several other countries have the same problem. Which are men and women who made a career out of politics and find ways to work the system for great power and wealth.”

“We don’t earn a living as I’ve read people did in the past, or my past. Each of us is issued credits depending upon our needs and skills. No one suffers poverty.”

“What kind of incentive does that create?”

I shrugged again. “Everyone will work diligently if they have the opportunity to do what they are most interested in doing.”

She wrapped an arm around across my chest. I knew she was getting drowsy and I was too.

“Anything else about 2028 that is interesting?”

“Nothing that made me, desire to remain there.” I heard her draw a long deep breath and then knew she slept.

No matter what she’d told me, I felt strongly there was something significant she not talked about to me. Something in 2028 that affected her outlook on life. Perhaps I was wrong to feel that way, but her eyes and the way they changed hadn’t been an illusion. And the night I felt something heavy land on the bow deck of the boat, and the finding her sitting calmly, again eyes not at all normal.

In the time I lived before using the portal, historians knew almost nothing about the early twenty-first century. Some historical experts believed whatever happened back then was awful enough that later in time all of it was erased as if the first five decades were a mistake best overlooked and forgotten.

There had been rumors of bio-warfare, altering DNA to create a warrior class unlike any ever before. Mainframe computers large and powerful enough to, eliminate the need for a human working class. Which in turn left millions homeless and living in utter poverty. And if the rumors were true to any substantial degree what about the offspring of the warrior class, the DNA recreated humans?

I smiled and chuckled softly. Nighttime was when I dreamed up catastrophes the ‘what ifs’ that the ancient philosopher Montagne wrote about: My life has been filled with the most terrible of misfortunate most of which never happened.

But little did I know then.

I drifted off to sleep.

What I failed to notice the entire time the boat headed for land was that the mountain ahead of us rose so high I could not see its peak. There were no clouds and the land sloped up gradually, I should’ve been able to see something beyond the foothills.

The boat settled alongside the dock and the engines abruptly shut down. The sudden silence surprised me. I’d not given too much thought to the sounds the boat made while running.

Both of us tied the boat to the dock. I felt we’d not return to use it again and for a moment felt some regret. It was a known unknown that I gradually accepted as my reality and safety.

Margaret went below and returned with my backpack, which held both of our possession and clothing. She also carried, or dragged up a sack filled with edibles, the first aid kits. She had insisted it was her obligation to help that way, and rather than argue I had agreed.

Now we stood side by side and strode slowly to the end of the dock. Once there we discovered the only place to go was into a tunnel wide enough for two people to walk and not much more. Lights turned on as we entered. They were strips along the bottom of the tunnel walls and another in the center of the ceiling. As we progressed, they went on ahead of us and off behind us. So what felt like an hour later, when I turned to look back the way we entered, I saw nothing but darkness.

I grew weary hours later. We hadn’t been speaking much once we discussed the tunnel, lighting and where it might lead. I was several paces ahead of her and stopped when I saw a door on the right side.

“I’m glad you stopped,” she said. “I’m about to pass out.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t really thinking about anything other then getting out of this tunnel.”

“Have you noticed how quiet it is? I couldn’t hear our footsteps or anything.”

“I did,” I agreed and reached out placed my hand on the door lever, pushed down and jumped inwardly to the sound of air moving into whatever lay beyond the door.

“That was creepy,” Margaret, said softly as if afraid she might be overheard.

I swung the door out and lights beyond lit a space that appeared to be a small rest area.

“Damn does this mean what I think it means?” I asked.

“What? That we might be in the tunnel for days?”

“You were thinking that too?” I glanced over.

She nodded.

“Great,” I said and entered the room.

Once we made ourselves as comfortable as an alien looking space allowed, I sat in a chair that appeared stiff and rejecting. When it moved beneath me I nearly jumped, but forced myself to relax and learned that the chair was molding itself to me. Not like it would to hold me prisoner, but like it was preprogrammed to afford maximum comfort.

I listened as Margaret settled in the seat alongside me. She sounded the way she did when she experienced serious pleasure.

“At least this place isn’t dangerous,” she said quietly almost like a moan.

No yet, I thought but felt saying that out loud would be inappropriate. Instead I took a few moments to examine our surroundings and discovered we were in a room with two chairs and one unremarkable table that honestly looked like it had been plastic poured into a single mold, cooled and dropped in the room’s center.

My backpack and Margaret’s bag looked shabby and filthy and extremely out of place.

When both chairs finished, a low humming from all around us filled the air. Margaret’s eyes widened as she glanced at me. Before either of us could speak, the floor and walls contorted and twisted. Not in a way that seemed sinister, but definitely beyond weird.

We watched the floor rise in several locations and furniture appeared as if crafted from the floor’s material. The walls opened into alcoves and within two of them bedroom furniture seemed to ooze out of both the walls and floors. A third alcove formed a kitchen, and a fourth was a fully equipped bathroom.

No more than five minutes passed and the sounds and movement ended. We were then within a small but very comfortable apartment. And I was so awestruck speech proved impossible.

I must’ve made a sound of grief. Margaret kissed my cheek and whispered tenderly, “You’re okay now.”

I could only nod and returned her kiss then sleep proved merciful as I listened to the thrumming of the boat’s engines and wondered if tomorrow would be worse than the last several days, or if it was at all possible that I might ever feel true joy again.

Margaret helped with her enthusiasm and obvious satisfaction of having me as a companion and lover.

But deep inside me I still felt the loss of my past, my life, my love. Memories will do that. Erode like a steady drop of water on any impermeable surface. And as they do the path those drops create may lead to escape or a deepening pool within which one might easily drown.

As I started to drift off I pictured Margaret’s eyes during the last storm, and too when I felt something heavy land on the bow deck, and then also saw something odd about Margaret’s eyes, and that thin tendril of smoke rising above her head.

What was that about? I questioned but had no answer other than sleep on it, which I did.

 

We traveled across the lake for nearly a week. Not knowing much about internal combustion engines I sought answers from Margaret such as does it ever run out of fuel? And if the boat did what would happen?

She didn’t seem to know an answer for either question, but did state she doubted the boat would stop running.

We lived through two more storms forcing me conclude the storms were cyclic. They consistently appeared every two to three days. It was almost as if they started building at one end of the lake and them traveled violently across the water. I wondered if the lightning strikes somehow enabled aquatic life.

And too we never ran out of food. I assumed Margaret knew where the supplies were stashed and refilled whatever we needed.

Finally I awoke one morning and directly in front of us was a mountain the foot of which came right to the edge of the lake. We were close enough I could see docks with boats and larger vessels. But I did not see people anywhere.

“Could it be everything here is AI automated?” I asked Margaret after we’d eaten a breakfast of eggs and sausages with amazingly good brown bread and butter.

“I know nothing about this place. In 2018 tech companies were beginning to seriously create AIs and robots to do everything. People were losing their jobs when AIs replaced them. And factories were more and more run but massive robots. Heck even movies were more computer generated then using created sets.”

I didn’t know what she meant when she said created sets, but decided it wasn’t important. The boat was within two hundred feet of the dock and moved directly for it as if it was programed for the destination.

After the previous encounters I had when setting foot on land I’d never visited before, I felt quiet nervous.

Margaret must’ve felt the same. She stood close to me and grabbed my hand in a grip strong enough to cause pain.

Journey’s before my escaping the pandemic began with a joyful sense of adventure. Blythe would be busy sorting through what we might need and what we would never want while gone. One of us, whichever was least busy, would arrange for a pet sitter. We had three orange cats ranging from age two to sixteen one female two males. We treated them like the children we’d planned we would have one day in the future.

Then after all preparations were finalized, we’d get a good night’s sleep, rise before the sun and with the electro loaded and charged we would leave. Often we traveled hundreds of miles before we returned. We knew that the sights we visited, either manmade or natural were nothing as grand as those seen by generations before us, but we were happy none-the-less.

As I lay on my back with Margaret’s arm across my chest, mine under her, I smiled at the memory of the last trip we made before the pandemic decided humanity’s time was drawing to a close.

We had driven north a thousand miles and waited for nearly two hours for the turbo-air ferry that would transport to the island of Central Park. Along the way we passed the head of liberty with a golden torch aloft in the only hand visible.

The unique thing about the island was that it was surrounded by a solid water-proof wall a hundred feet tall. The ferry settled slowly in the center of the island giving us the sensation of sinking into a hole in the earth.

Blythe was thrilled and stood with both hands on the edge of the window, face close enough I could see her breath on the glass.

We spent the night in a luxurious hotel and were treated like royalty. A journey to remember forever, Blythe had whispered in my ear after or amazing lovemaking.

By the time we returned home, the pandemic was headline news. But both of us were exhausted by the media’s sucking the life out of each story, and concentrating on what my grandmother once laughing called fear factor click bait. She’s told me her mother taught her the phrase. So Blythe and I ignored the awful news and enjoyed the trip home. Once there the first thing we learned was that our cats had been infected and died. The government demanded we go into isolation for two weeks. And it was during that time Blythe showed symptoms of the virus and I learned I was immune. She was flown to the local emergency room, and then brought to ICU where a month later she died.

“We must be on our home world,” she said. “Just not a part of it we’re accustomed to. The portals decided where to put us and I don’t know about you but I’m really happy they let you enter where you would find me and save me.” She lowered her head to my shoulder. I heard and felt her sigh of satisfaction.

“I’m not sure we are on earth.” I spoke it quietly knowing how absurdly insane it sounded.

I felt her head move and glanced down to find her staring at my face. Our eyes met, she blinked giving me the distinct feeling she knew something I didn’t but desperately wanted to know.

“It must be, Stanton. How could we possibly be anywhere else?”

“How could portals or gates exist that transported us here?” I kept my voice quiet and emotion free.

She shrugged. “Don’t know but do know that I’m both hungry and very tired.”

“Yeah me to.” I stood and immediately missed the heat.

But she joined me and together we assembled a hot meal with chamomile tea and ate it all. After the cleanup progressed without conversation then when we finished Margaret took my hand and led me into the sleeping chamber. The rest of the night was amazingly better than the entire previous day.

I awoke and it was still dark as a cloudy midnight. Margret slept, and I sat up to look out the small round window behind us. Part of the sky was a black arc and the remainder was filled with stars. The two halves fit together, which was not a surprise. The surprise was the arc. It was very gradual and well defined and looked like it rose up into the heavens. I swore it could not be a normal part of the planet I lived on.

“It’s a mountain range,” Margaret spoke softly against my ear.

“How did you know?”

“That you were thinking about the scene you see in the distance?”

I nodded, smiled and said, “I was yes.”

“You’ll see more and understand more once we get closer, I think. So come back here so we can sleep.”

Which I did with a mind reeling with information both illogical and perhaps awe, inspiring. At that moment I changed my mind and concluded we were on earth in a time and place beyond my ability to imagine. How I got here is the most important question now.

Confusion was never an emotion I dealt with before discovering the green cabin, or more realistically, before fleeing the outcome of the pandemic. Now it seemed like a not so gentle demon sitting on my shoulder with it’s vile knife edged tail wrapped tightly around my neck. Each time I managed to feel that things were improving, that everything would be for the better, it tightened its slimy grip. It clawed fingers scratching my flesh leaving nearly invisible abrasions filled with the poisons of doubt and regret.

Yet I was not in a place, or in a situation I could revise or control. And when I finally accepted my fate, I left the captain’s chair and landed in a puddle of ice, cold water. Longing to be in the cabin with Margaret reminded me of what I’d witnessed during the storm. I stopped with both hands on the handrails down, one foot on the top step and understood that regardless of what I saw or experienced, I had no place else to go if I didn’t want to spend the night on the deck. And the air was cooling. I was not dressed for low temperatures.

Slowly, silently I went down and found Margaret wrapped in blankets watching my approach.

“I was wondering if you would spend the night up there.” She said, and opened her protective layer of blankets to invite me to join her.

“Just trying to understand this place we are in. The storms come out of nowhere and this one was at least twice as powerful as the first one I went through.”

She frowned and it looked quite pretty. So I went across the cabin and accepted her invite, finding that the blankets were warmed from her body heat. She made certain I was well within their embrace and closed the blankets around us.

I put my arm around her as she did me and the dread and confusion I’d felt melted into memory.

Shaking my head, I searched for and finally found the switch for the bilge pump, flipped it on and heard the motor roar to life. “We won’t sink,” I shouted.

Margaret nodded and glanced my way. Her eyes had changed. Their blue centers were now ringed with gold. She appeared to be struggling with something. I could read the concentration lining her face, pinching her lips tightly.

As I took a step toward her thinking if I was alongside her it might help, the boat rose and dropped again, knocking me off my feet. I crawled across the small cabin inching my way as I fought the forces of the storm, and smelled the lake water and an odor not unpleasant that seemed to ride the scent of the water.

Finally, I reached and touched Margaret’s left foot. She looked down, smiling as if I was nothing but a delightful child there to amuse her. But the rest of her face distorted by her inner battle showed me that Margaret was more than a beautiful woman. Her flesh writhed, fingers clenching and unclenching, nails digging small bloody moons in her palms.

Abruptly the storm ended. The water flowing from outside stopped and Margaret collapsed like the life force in her had been absorbed by the storm.

Now I could move easily, and reached for her pulled her tight against my chest and lowered my head to feel her breath. There was none, and then she gasped and jerked upright violently enough to snap her spine.

“Margaret,” I shouted and shook her gently, again wrapped my arms around her and held her firmly so she would not injure herself.

Slowly she seemed to recover until I could feel a slow and steady heartbeat, and warm even breath on my face.

When she opened her eyes, they were normal blue beautiful. I kissed her forehead feeling deeply thankful. And Margaret smiled.

“Thank you,” she whispered and closed her eyes asleep in my arms.

She woke slightly as I tried to move her to a bunk, and together we got her comfortable. I removed her life vest and covered her with a light green wool blanket.

When finished, I took off my life vest and again went up to sit in the captain’s chair. The boat was still moving on autopilot. I shut everything down and absorbed the sudden stillness. The sky no longer seemed restless as night settled over us. Since the storm was completely past I looked up to see which constellations were visible from wherever I was on earth.

However there was not a dot of light, not a twinkle, or glow. The night sky was as black as midnight might be if the storm hovered overhead. In the distance, perhaps miles, or even a hundred miles as far as I could discern, a curved shadow with sparkling embers of light across its surface left me wondering what I saw. I found power binoculars, and after adjusting them for me eyesight, focused on the sparkling lights I’d seen.

Even with the tremendous magnification, all I saw were sparkling lights, but now saw they were not all white. Some were blue, some yellow, some red, and too white. As I scanned to the right, everything about my reality shifted beyond anything I could comprehend. There, along what seemed to be a curve landline, was an array of stars. The more I looked in that direction, the more stars appeared, even several galaxies were visible.

“Apparently,” I said quietly, “we are in some kind of deep hole. Or a place on earth where a small world exists?” Yet even that explanation felt miserably simplistic. “My god where the hell are we?”

I wanted to wake Margaret and show her what I discovered, but as I stood the autopilot switched on. The boat shifted so now instead of seeing the brown mountain range with a massive waterfall in front of us, I was staring directly at the sky full of stars. Fumbling with the seat I was in, I reached and flipped off the autopilot. Nothing happened. I flipped the switch on and off several times but gave up when it was ineffective. The boat held a steady speed reasonable, but faster than the last time we used the autopilot.

Again my life is not mine to control. What the hell have I done?

It was thunder that drove us inside the cabin. Otherwise the deck was fine. But after the previous storm I’d lived through I wanted nothing to do with exposure to the one approaching. The sky had gradually turned from blue to an angry shade of purple with explosive fingers of lightning that squirmed across the sky seeking a place to burrow into the ground beneath. I witnessed hundreds of them covering the distant horizon until they met and gathered forming a fist of a billion volts that would make Thor shudder with fear while his father Odin spread his rage.

Inside the cabin, we found life vests and quickly donned them. Margaret’s made her look smaller as it basically enveloped her torso. As she fixed the fasteners, I fought mine. Finally, she assisted and while I felt mildly humiliated, I mostly felt grateful for her.

We could feel the approaching storm in the air, smell its awesome power and then the boat rose suddenly and rapidly. My heart was jolted with hot adrenaline and I felt the strong need to do something other than sit helplessly. Then the boat dropped for what I guessed to be twenty feet, maybe more.

I knew the storm generated waves, but these felt oceanic. Lake water ran down the steps into the cabin as rain battered the boat and then joined the lake water.

“Pumps,” I shouted as a memory popped into my head from some old time movie I viewed years earlier. “Bilge pumps, we need to find the switch to activate them.”

I looked at Margaret expecting a reflection of the fear vibrating throughout me but didn’t see it. She was standing with her feet in the water and seemed to enjoy its feel.