Free Paradigm Rift: Book One of the Back to Normal Series by Randy McWilson Page A

that.” The Chief continued to stare at Denver as he called out over his shoulder. “Is that bus outta sight yet, Billy?”
    Officer O’Connell lifted his sunglasses, and strained his eyes. “All clear, no witnesses, Chief.”
     
    McCloud shifted his weight. “Good.”

Journal entry number 41
    Friday, June 14, 1946
     
    It’s still hard to imagine that our sudden financial fortunes have revolved around a four-legged steed carrying a tiny jockey. Assault won the Triple Crown (just as Ken “predicted”), and using the nice pool of money we won at Kentucky, we made a much, much bigger pool of cash. We are now the proud owners of a late 30s sedan.
(It would be priceless back home!)
     
    We have also purchased some promising corporate stocks, which required a trip to Chicago, a few hours north of here. The 1946 skyline of the Windy City will take some time to get used to—and the lack of jets. All the commercial airliners are prop planes at this time.
     
    We decided that sharing an apartment, combined with our erratic schedules of coming and going, could lead to many uncomfortable questions from our neighbors. We found a house on the outskirts of town for sale, fairly isolated…no prying eyes, and no prying questions. It has a large garage, which could possibly be used for research in the future. Just dreaming.
     
    We close on the house sale on Monday. I still can’t get over the price—$7600! It sits on 3 acres, on the north side of town, not far from where Ken and I both jumped.
     
    A fat bank account, a reliable vehicle, and a secluded base of operations…at least, at some level, some things are starting to get back to normal.

CHAPTER 17
    Denver shut his eyes.
    He wasn’t a coward, and he sure wasn’t going to beg. He had been in enough “we’re-not-getting-out-of-this-one-alive” firefights that he had become numb to thoughts of his own sure demise, even a real demise in a fake world.
    He was always amazed at how the other senses seemed to become heightened once vision was denied. The cops’ exact positions were as clear as day. Their subtle movements were betrayed by the sounds of cloth upon cloth and shifting footwork upon gravel. He could even discern their attitudes and emotions by changing patterns of breathing and tiny vocal inflections.
    He weighed his options. He was fast, but with two guns roughly two yards apart trained on him, the chances of avoiding a mortal injury in a scuffle averaged somewhere within two standard deviations of dismal.
    Regardless of his options, there wouldn’t be time to enact any of them. Without warning, Denver felt two sets of hands raise him up to a proper standing position. He was almost positive he had heard a subtle chuckle in the process. His eyes opened to two grinning faces with sunglasses removed.
    “Sorry 'bout this dog 'n pony show,” the Chief blurted out. “But we have to keep up appearances around these parts. How 'bout some introductions—Mr. Denver Collins, this is my right hand man, Officer Billy O'Connell.”
    Billy plainly forced a grin and stepped forward with hand outstretched, but Denver locked onto the distance with a cold stare. He remained motionless. O’Connell glanced over at the Chief, then back at Denver. He withdrew his hand. It was more than obvious that a dangerous level of rage was not too far below Denver’s surface.
    McCloud cleared his throat. “Look, Mr. Collins, we’re the good guys.”
    Denver exploded, “Why can't you people just leave me alone? I am minutes from Chicago, and hopefully a few hours from a flight back home. So, whatever government psychological experiment or whatever it is you are conducting, I didn't sign up for it, and I want my life back! This game ends now!”
    The Chief hesitated for few moments after Denver’s diatribe. “Government experiment? A game ? Is that all you got? Heck, I thought I was on a Hollywood movie set when I first jumped! Billy, get me the dang binoculars!”
    McCloud stepped