Down World, Rebecca Phelps [book recommendations based on other books .TXT] 📗

of the men greeted George in a pleasant tone, but with words that I couldn’t make out.

George responded in a boisterous voice that completely negated the sad, quiet man he had been a moment before. They talked for a couple of minutes before I realized they weren’t speaking English. I couldn’t place the language, but George seemed to be fluent.

Brady held his ear to the curtain, and even though I knew he couldn’t understand them, he seemed to be listening to their tones to try to figure out what they were talking about.

The longer they talked, the more nervous I became. Who were these men that were so dangerous we had to hide in a closet while they were here? We heard forks scraping against plates as they talked, and it was clear they were eating the breakfast.

Every now and then, a phrase in English would pop up: “More coffee?” “No problem.” And very often, simply, “Okay.” But then they would go back to the other language and I would be lost again.

My eyes scanned the closet, adjusting to the dimmed light. An open shoebox of photos sat on a shelf along the wall, and I leaned over as quietly as possible to try to make out the images on the top picture. It was an old Polaroid, and I recognized the outline of my mother’s face.

I flipped through a few more and realized I knew some of the images. They were pictures of a group of people lounging by the lake. My mother had some of the same photos in an old album in her room. I had seen them years before but had never thought much of them. These must have been her friends once. I saw a picture of my mother and John laughing. George was in the background, watching Sage with hungry eyes.

The sound of shuffling boots made my heart freeze. I sensed Brady stiffening next to me, clearly thinking the same thing: What would we do if they opened the closet? His hand reached back towards me in a protective motion, as if he could hide me completely behind his arm.

But the shuffling of boots did not head in our direction. The men exchanged some words, all seeming very cordial. And soon the sound of their heavy feet made its way outside, where the little bells on their bikes were again happily dinging. The crunching of the dirt beneath the wheels grew fainter as the bikes receded, and I felt my breath begin to regulate again.

Brady leaned in a bit closer and whispered to me, “It’s okay, they’re gone.”

I nodded. Several seconds went by, and I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to come out or not. Finally George appeared, opening the closet door.

“Now you need to go.”

“Who were those men?” I asked, looking around now that the light was streaming back into the closet. I stole one last glance at the stack of pictures, and saw that the one on top was definitely of my mother. We came out into the tiny room, and George went on as though I hadn’t said anything.

“Just make sure they’re not watching,” he said. “Act like you’re going for a swim, and when you’re sure the coast is clear, dive down and go back to the other side.”

“The other side?” I repeated breathlessly, realizing something about the portal we had just gone through. “George, does the lake portal only lead to here? Not to any other dimensions?”

“That’s right. Now go.”

“And this is the one my mother and John built, right?”

George was momentarily distracted from his task of kicking us out. “How did you know that?”

But I didn’t want to take the time to answer him. “Why did they build this particular place? Who were those men, George? And why do you live here?”

He sighed deeply, looking like all the air was seeping out of him. “You’d have to ask your mother what she was thinking, because I’ve never been able to understand it. I guess this is the world she and John wanted.” His sad eyes crinkled in the light of the doorway, his face set in rigid stone.

Brady leaned forward. “Don’t you throw off the balance by living here?”

George shrugged. “I don’t disturb anything or change anything. I keep to myself.” He sighed deeply, deciding whether to continue. “Near as I can tell, you can stay in another dimension for up to a week or so. There’s no exact science to it. I stay for four or five days at a time, then head back up. After that . . .”

“Go on,” I all but demanded.

“If you and your other self diverge too much from each other, it can be too late to go back.”

I choked back an aching fear from his words. Robbie’s been down for over four years now.

And my mother . . . and Piper. Dear God, was it too late already?

But then another pressing question escaped my lips: “Why come down here at all?” George’s body language was growing more and more tense with my delays, but I needed the answers.

He finally nodded towards the woods where the strange men had ridden off. “They don’t know about the portal. I’d like it to stay that way. I can keep an eye on it from here.”

Brady started to lead me off, but I had one more question I needed to ask. “Wait . . .” I pushed Brady back gently. “You know what’s happened to my mother, don’t you?”

George turned to Brady, as all the adults seemed to do when they were done with me. “Take her back. It’s not safe here. You understand me?”

“I understand you, sir,” Brady said, and I couldn’t tell if he was being polite in order to placate this man who had greeted us earlier with a shotgun, or if he was just stalling for time while figuring out what we should do next.

“We haven’t even looked,” I protested.

“Let’s head back,” Brady said, addressing me but keeping eye contact