Authors: Lorijo Metz
Wheels
WHEELS
By Lorijo Metz
“It is possible to believe that all the past is but the beginning of a beginning…”
—H.G. Wells, Nature (February 6, 1902)
***
Copyright © 2012 by Lorijo Metz
ISBN: 978-0-9838103-1-5
ASIN: B007RGPGH2
To find out more about the author please visit:
http://www.lorijometz.com
Cover Art by Ronnell D. Porter
http://ronnelldporter.wix.com/design
License Notes
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. For those who may take issue: H.G. Wells did have a sister, but her name was Fanny, and I believe, she died at the age of nine. With the exception of being a writer, there is little resemblance between the character named H.G. Wells in this story and the real H.G. Wells. Though perhaps, indeed, there is (or was) an H.G. Wells living in a parallel universe of which my H.G. Wells is an exact copy. If so, I apologize.
Dedication
To T-Metz: For you and only you…forever.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Ch 4: Alien Skin & Accident Victims
Ch 5: Daydreams & Dilly-Dallying
Ch 11: Loonocks & Epoks & Loons, Oh My!
Ch 12: Nasty Tasks & Unwelcome News
Ch 14: It’s Good To Be The King
Ch 18: Is That A Pinicolis In Your Pocket?
Ch 22: Concentric, The Great Creator
Ch 26: Fists, Fights & Fleeing Tsendi
Ch 29: Hoop Dreams & Tsootballs
Ch 31: Surprise Visits Times Two
Ch 33: War Games & Bad Relations
Ch 37: All Quiet On The Western Front
Ch 38: When Women Knew Their Place
Ch 40: Keeping Up With The Tsendi
Ch 44: Tremos & Turning Points
Ch 45: Stubborn, Frustrating, Pig-Headed…!
Ch 46: Revelations & Realizations
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
As WHEELS is a story in which time revolves,
is traveled through,
and sometimes paused—
The author begs a moment of your time to note:
*
Our story,
both on Earth and on the planet Circanthos,
occurs over a five-day period,
in the month of March,
mid 21st Century.
*
FBI Agent Wink Krumm’s personal log
covers the same five days.
His interviews begin three weeks later.
Chapter 1
DIARY OF JULIANNE WELLS
1 January 1896, London, England
The words I entrust to your honorable pages must remain a secret between you and me; my beloved’s life depends upon it. Even now I tremble, fearful, lest my words fall into the wrong hands.
Six months ago to this very day, an event of such astounding proportions occurred beneath this very room, that though I dare not commit it to paper—I find I must! For, as with any secret forbidden to share, I am bursting to tell it.
At precisely two minutes before the hour of six o’clock in the morning I opened the door to my brother’s study, never to imagine it would be the last day I set eyes on his horrible countenance.
I say precisely, for it was always upon the hour of six, neither a minute fore, nor a second aft, that my brother, Herbert G. Wells, insisted a cup of Keemun tea (four lumps sugar, two splashes of cream) be delivered to him in his study, lest I suffer to be reminded I remain under this roof only by the goodness of his kind favor.
Feminine intuition must have alerted me, for I’d hurried through my morning ritual only to find myself standing outside his study door, tea in hand, four minutes before the hour.
I stood there, chiding myself for rushing and debating whether it were better to present his tea early and hot, or on time and tepid, when suddenly I became aware of an unusual sound emanating from behind the door. A sound I can only describe as the beating of a very large heart. In view of the fact I was sure to receive a reprimand either way, I entered my brother’s study.
Herbert had spent the past year researching mathematical theories of time and space. A theme he had revisited with some frequency over the years and one he had written about in a rather forgettable short story several years prior. This time, however, the result was a spectacular story involving an eccentric character and his invention, a time traveling machine.
Shortly after the book was published, Herbert set aside all writing and began working on his own bronze, throne-like contraption, adorned with crystals and ivory, bells and whistles, levers and dials of various sizes—all, according to my dear brother, “Far too technical for feminine experience to comprehend.”
But I digress…
***
BACK IN THE GAME
Avondale High School Gymnasium
M
cKenzie remained in the game, but her brain had split in two. Part of it remained fully committed to winning, while the other part slipped into a tiny, parallel universe. A universe focused solely on Penny Nickels’ mouth—or rather, where her mouth
should
have been.
Back on the court, wheels turned, chairs crashed and the ball remained in play. The smell of sweat and burning rubber filled the air.
Crap!
...was McKenzie’s first thought as her chair tipped sideways—a crash and run by an overly enthusiastic opponent.
BooYa!
...her second, as she caught the pass, flipped her chair upright and scored three more points from the top of the key.
The bleachers burst with the deafening roar of cheers, boos, and the groan of metal straining under the weight of hundreds of people jumping to their feet. Thanks to McKenzie, the Warriors had once again taken the lead. Too bad her dad had to work.
Avondale High was an unusual school, split almost fifty-fifty between walking and wheelchair students—a.k.a. Walkers and Wheelers. Tonight the Walkers were out in droves showing their support. The Warriors had recently been ranked one of the top ten high school wheelchair basketball teams in the country.
Back in the tiny, parallel universe part of her brain, McKenzie’s focus widened. Though the crowd continued to roar, Penny stood rigid, eyes wide, face drained of all color. Visibly shaking, her hand drifted to a point right above her chin, exactly where her mouth should
have been, covering the evidence.
McKenzie’s heart skipped into overdrive. She may have been a remarkable player, but lately, she was also something else—
crazy
, the most likely answer. Seconds ago, maybe minutes—McKenzie’s sense of time was all jumbled—Penny had been standing in her usual spot: bottom row of the bleachers right behind her dad, Coach Nickels. Penny may have been the coach’s daughter, but she knew nothing about wheelchair basketball. She didn’t even play regular basketball. Yet, there she was, jumping up and down and screaming, “Pass the ball! Pass the ball to Joanne!” Joanne Chang had been missing shots all night. Then Penny had leaned over, pointed straight at McKenzie and whispered in her dad’s ear. Seconds later, Coach Nickels was ordering her, McKenzie Wu, who had already made twenty-three of their thirty-eight points, to stop hogging the ball. That was the moment—
the precise moment
—the image of Penny without a mouth had first entered McKenzie’s mind.
“OUCH! Learn how to throw!” McKenzie rubbed the side of her head. Okay, so maybe her brain wasn’t exactly in the game.
Coach Nickels leaned forward almost falling out of his wheelchair. “Wakeup Wu!” Behind him, Penny’s hand was no longer covering her mouth. The same mouth McKenzie had so fervently wished would disappear, then watched while particle by particle it did. The same mouth that now, thank goodness, had suddenly returned. Had it all been a dream? If so, by the look on Penny’s face, she must have been having the same nightmare.
McKenzie reached out, grabbed the pass and took off down the court. From the corner of her eye she saw Penny scramble out of the bleachers, push people out of her way, and dash wildly out of the gym.
The buzzer signaled the end of the third quarter. McKenzie hurled the ball, attempting an impossible three-point shot. As the ball spun through the air, straight toward the hoop, she had the distinct feeling that if she wished hard enough, the hoop would lean forward to catch it.
Crazy!
Without waiting to see if she’d made the shot, McKenzie rolled off the court.
“Lucky shot, Wu. Too bad it doesn’t count.”
McKenzie looked from her coach to the hoop and felt all the blood drain out of her face. The hoop seemed normal. Yet, somehow, she’d made the shot.
“You okay?” asked Coach Nickels.
NO!
“What? Yeah. I guess,” McKenzie mumbled. “Too many balls to the head.”
“Go get some water. While you’re at it, sit out the rest of the game. Give your teammates a chance to play.”
Normally, McKenzie would have mentally banged chairs with her coach, protesting such an unfair decision. Instead, she turned away, shaking her head in disbelief, and took off towards the fountain.
