Free Touchstone (Meridian Series) by John Schettler, Mark Prost Page A

rushed to Kelly’s room, and met a
worried Maeve Lindford, pacing the hallway in front of his door. She was
wearing a casual khaki colored suit over a loose white silk blouse. She had
evidently been called away from her classroom, since she was carrying her
pigskin book bag slung over her shoulder and had a brace of dry-erase markers
in her breast pocket.
    As soon as she noticed the two
men, she hurried down the hall toward them, and said, “The doctors don’t know
what’s wrong with him, none of the medicine seems to have any effect on him…
he’s disoriented… in and out of consciousness, and…”  She gave them both a
searching look. “I think it might be temporal… some kind of after effect from
the first project drop. God only knows. I thought you said you two had this
figured out!” She wheeled in anger. “So what are you going to do now?”
    Dorland held up his hands in
front of him warding off the emotional onslaught. “Maeve, we don’t know what’s
going on just yet. Let’s not jump to conclusions. Calm down—”
    She cut in. “Don’t give me that.
You know exactly what is going on here. One of your time shenanigans is
expressing itself! Some consequence from whatever you two have been up to since
you started that machine up again.”
     “Maeve…” Nordhausen tried to
intercede.
    “And you! You are in this hand
and glove! Are you satisfied? Kelly’s life signs are so faint they can barely
read him at times. Damn it! Fix this—now!”
    “Please, Maeve, we can’t talk
about the project here,” said Paul. “There are too many variables.” He looked
around him, noting the passing of nurses and orderlies in the halls, and the
open doorways leading to other rooms.
    Lindford pulled herself
together, and brushed back a loose strand of red hair that had gotten in her
face. “Yes, I understand but…“ She broke down, her voice choked with emotion.
    Paul and Robert instinctively
went to comfort her. “Come,” said Robert. “Let’s get out of the hall.”
    It was a semi-private room, and
Kelly’s bed was screened off by an opaque blue curtain. Paul peeked behind it,
thankful that there was no other patient occupying the other bed. His eyes were
immediately drawn to his good friend Kelly, who lay on an adjustable bed, as
though paralyzed. He was hooked up to heart  monitor, a glucose drip, and an
EKG record brain wave response. The lines were moving, tracing a thin milky
phosphoresce on the monitor screens, but there was little life to them.
    Kelly’s eyes fluttered open,
unfocused. His head lolled in their direction, as if he was aware of their presence.
Paul leaned in, talking to Kelly as he knelt by the bed.
           “Hello, mister. It’s me.
Can you hear me, Kelly? How did this happen to you?”
           “Just came on…” Kelly’s
voice was barely a whisper.
           “Has this ever happened to you before?”
           Kelly seemed to gain a bit of strength.
“I’ve had random fits where I felt…precarious. You know… Like that night on the
project. I felt like I was slipping… Like I might just vanish into nothing.”
His breathing was labored as he spoke.
           “Stop it, Paul!” Maeve
hissed. “See how he is? It’s temporal variance—I’m certain of it. If we had a
lab machine hooked up to him you’d probably say his pattern signature was
fading or something. Can’t you see it? I thought putting that DVD in the
memorial was supposed to fix all this! Why is this happening?”
           Paul gave her a serious
look, deep in thought. “Kelly,” he said again, with more urgency. “Please, I
have to know if this came on suddenly, or if this is an effect that has been
accumulating over time.”
           “What?” Kelly closed his eyes.
           “Kelly. Kelly Ramer!
Listen to me! When did this happen? Can you remember that?”
           “When?”
           “Oh, leave him alone,
Paul,” Maeve protested again.