Chapter 2: Penn

Penn felt a private thrill of excitement and anxiety as they used one of their two permanent keycards.

They had made their commitment, for one month, but had they done the right thing? This house was the strangest thing he had ever encountered, and he had been around the world during his days of active military service. It looked so ordinary on the outside, but it was an alien structure. That picture, that forest

—what else was there to discover?

Tonight would be their first here. He wasn't sure he would sleep well, and worried about Chandelle. But they had to do it. They had to establish their temporary residence here, braving the unknown for the sake of the challenge it offered.

"You go on in," he told her as the door opened. "I'll take the car around to the garage, and you can buzz me in."

She nodded, her lips tight. "Don't be long, dear."

"No dallying on the way," he agreed, forcing a smile. He did not want her alone in that house any more than she wanted to be alone in it. Not yet.

He walked back to the car, got in, and started it. The seat-belt alarm sounded. That was an indication of his nervousness, because he always buckled up before inserting the key. This time he had forgotten. He fastened it, then drove down and around into the short driveway leading to the garage door.

As he approached, the garage door rolled up. Chandelle had wasted no time; he had expected a wait of a few seconds while she made her way through the house and into the garage.

He pulled in and parked as the overhead door rolled down behind. He got out, and saw Chandelle at the inner door.

"Oh, you're already in," she said.

Penn paused. "You didn't let me in?"

"No, I just got here. How did you open the door?"

"I didn't. It rolled up as I came near. And down behind me."

"Your key!" she exclaimed. "It sensed it, and it's automatic."

"That must be it," he agreed, relieved.

He unloaded the car while she got busy in the kitchen. They didn't have a lot; they had learned to make do on the move. With this house as well stocked as it was, they would need even less.

That reminded him of that aspect. Why should the proprietor be so eager to have them stay that he not only provided a month's free rent, but also food, clothing, and equipment? Was there some phenomenal liability lurking?

He carried a bag up the half stairs. He noticed a little plaque on the wall where they merged with the flight upstairs. It was simply a vertical line, or the number 1. To indicate that this was the first floor? In a two-story house, with basement and no attic? It hardly seemed necessary.

He thought about going outside again, to explore one of the back yard scenes, and decided against it.

They had had enough mystery for one day.

Soon enough they had dinner in the dinette alcove. Chandelle had done a good job, as usual. Rich black bean soup with rice and salad. And a small glass of wine. That was another signal of her nervousness.

They were light drinkers, but it did tend to steady her nerves.

He raised his glass. "To a great experience," he said. She matched him. "To an enjoyable summer." After dinner he set things up the way they liked them, with their popular magazines to read while they watched TV: New Scientist for him, Reader's Digest for her. She took care of the dishes quickly, using the state-of-the-art kitchen equipment, and joined him in the living room. Soon they were watching a good movie, not deep but funny, exactly what they needed to relax. This resembled pay-per-view, with no commercials, but they seemed to have it prepaid.

They retired to the bedroom after ten. This, too, was a signal: Penn had been an early bird all his life, so naturally he had married a night owl. Normally he was asleep hours before Chandelle retired, and was up hours before her. They had worked it out over the years and were comfortable. For one thing, it gave them time alone, and that was important in a long-term marriage. It also extended their hours of alertness. A burglar who wanted to break in unheard and unseen would have to do it in the wee hours only. But he suspected that no burglar could get into this house. Like a well-trained police dog, the house surely had its deadly aspect. And that was most likely what concerned Chandelle. So she did not want to be alone, here, yet. When that phase passed, in a few days, they would truly be settled in. He read his material, and she read hers, and soon he slept. He woke briefly in the night, needing to use the bathroom, and Chandelle's light was out, so he knew she had managed to sleep too. They had become accustomed to sleeping in new places, because of the military habit of moving personnel frequently. It was just this house that was odd. But he liked it, and had the gut feeling that its oddity represented much less of a threat than a challenge.

He woke at six, as usual, and got up and washed and dressed in the near darkness, letting Chandelle sleep. Normally he took an early morning jog for aerobic exercise, and worked out a bit with hand weights, keeping himself in shape. But he did not feel easy about leaving the house by either door, until his wife was up and about. So he went downstairs, jogged in place, and used the weights. He also brought out his compound bow and stretched the string several times. Later in the day he would set up his target in back; it would be a novel setting, that primeval forest.

He fixed his own breakfast, took his vitamins, and tuned in "Morning Edition" on his portable radio. All he was missing was the morning newspaper.

Or was he? He got up and went to the front door. There on the front step were two different newspapers. He fetched them in. Sure enough: one was the kind he liked, with sports and national and international news, while the other was the kind Chandelle liked, with local features and advice columnists and crossword puzzles. She would be pleased.

In an hour she came down to join him. "I got to sleep too early," she muttered, and put on her coffee.

"I thought I'd jog outside, but—"

"Not yet," she said quickly. "Let's get Llynn first."

So there would be one more person in the house. That way Chandelle could go out shopping, and he could go out jogging, and someone would still be minding the shop. It was a sensible precaution in a new neighborhood.

In due course, Chandelle phoned the Wiley residence: their married daughter. "We can pick up Llynn in an hour," she said into the phone. There was a pause. "Yes, but I think she will like this house we're renting."

"We'll tell her she can go home tomorrow, if she doesn't like it today," Penn said.

"Yes, it's a very nice house," Chandelle said into the phone. "I do believe Llynn will want to stay." There was another pause. "An hour, then. We'll see you. Bye." She hung up.

Penn smiled. "I notice you didn't give much detail on the house."

"Who would believe it?" But it was more than that, and they both knew it.

They went to the garage, got in the car, and started the motor. Sure enough, the door rolled up on its own. Chandelle was at the wheel; she nodded, and backed carefully out. The door rolled down after them. "It is a very obliging house," she remarked. "But I think it will be the back yard that Llynn first notices."

"I think so," he agreed. "I'll offer to take her on a hike."

"And she will expect to be bored out of her gourd."

They chuckled and lapsed into silence. This was one time the old fogies expected to have the last laugh.

Llynn was standing out front with her bags as they pulled up. She was a pretty young woman of fifteen, with glossy black hair that reached almost to her waist and a slender but filling figure. She wore a light blouse that was somewhat too tight, and a dark skirt that was somewhat too short.

"She's growing up," Penn remarked.

"That's the problem," Chandelle reminded him.

They stopped at the curb, and Penn got out to help the girl with her baggage.

"I can handle it myself, Grandpa," Llynn said, opening the trunk and dumping her bags in. Then she got into the back seat.

"We should check with your parents," Chandelle said.

"They know where I'm going," the girl retorted. "And I won't be there long."

Chandelle started the car without replying. She was leaving the dialogue up to Penn, preferring to be officially uninvolved. She knew what was coming.

"This sounds a bit like hostility," Penn said, glancing back as they moved into the flow of traffic.

Llynn turned an exaggerated wide-eyed stare of mock innocence on him. "What, hostility, Grandpa?

Whatever gave you that idea?"

He smiled, facing forward again so that they were not looking at each other. "Oh, it was just a silly guess."

"Just because I'm wearing lipstick and dating the leader of the band, my folks want to pack me off toSiberia . Why should I be hostile?"

"And how old is this band leader?"

"Twenty-five," she said grudgingly. "But it doesn't matter. He's a great guy."

"Surely so," Penn said. "Old enough to know the definition of statutory rape."

"You folks don't have any idea about anything!" Her vehemence suggested that the term had scored.

"Well, I made a deal with Mom: I stay one week with you, then I'm home again. I don't have to pretend I like it."

"I'll make you another deal," Penn said evenly. "You stay one night with us, with an open mind, and if you don't like it, you can go home this time tomorrow."

"Mom wouldn't let me."

"She will if her mom tells her."

There was a pause. Llynn was evidently waiting for Chandelle to object, but she didn't. "Where's the catch?"

"No catch. We just think you'll like it with us."

The girl sighed. "Grandpa, it's not you. You and Grandma are okay. It's that I don't like being manipulated. I've got my own life to live."

"We understand that. We think we can show you a better life. We want you to recognize that, so there's no quarrel between us."

"In one day?"

"In one hour. Deal?"

"Deal."

They drove on in silence. Penn glanced at Chandelle without turning his head. There was a trace of a smile on her face. She knew, as he did, that Llynn had always been an adventurous girl, really a tomboy, until the past year. If that backyard forest didn't inspire her, nothing would. Llynn was smart, and liked to unravel mysteries. She was about to discover a big one.

They arrived at the house, and approached the garage. It let them in. "Chandelle will show you your room," Penn said. "Then come out back for your hour with me."

"The hour that will show me a better life," Llynn said. She was trying to be sarcastic, but her curiosity was getting to her. She knew he didn't bluff, but she evidently couldn't figure out what he might have in the back yard.

Penn stood gazing out the window section of the back door while woman and girl went upstairs. Then Llynn returned. She had not changed her clothing. "I'm fromMissouri ," she said. "Show me."

He glanced back, and saw Chandelle coming down the stairs. He caught her eye, and she nodded. She would be alert for their re-entry. That meant he could close the door.

He opened the door and ushered Llynn out. She went before she looked. He followed, and closed the door behind them. She paused, staring ahead at the massive trees, and the forest extending to the horizon. "I thought this was in the city."

"It was."

She turned to face him—and her eyes widened. "Where's the house?"

He gestured at the boulder that was where the house should have been.

"I have to admit this is some trick, Grandpa! It's screened out?" She stepped close to the boulder, tapping the rock. "Feels real."

"Let's walk around it," he suggested.

"You can't walk around a screen. I mean, if you do, the illusion vanishes."

"I agree." He set out walking around it.

She ran to catch up. "This forest—it's everywhere! In front, too."

"So it seems."

"And the boulder—there's no screen." She found a place and scrambled up the side, heedless of her flaring skirt. She went to the top. "It is real."

"It's real," he agreed.

She turned around, scanning the forest. "No city at all."

"No city," he agreed.

She jumped down the far side. He walked on around to rejoin her. They completed the circuit.

"A three-D video projection," she said. "But I sure can't figure out where the house went."

"Maybe the trees are just an image," he suggested.

"I wonder." She dodged to the side and ran out to the nearest tree. She touched it. She walked around it. Then she went to another. "Something funny about these trees."

"Yes. I was unable to break off even the smallest twig."

She located a tree with low branches. But the lowest was still just out of reach. "Boost me up, Grandpa.

I want to get a taller view."

"In that skirt?"

She paused. It was clear that she would have to hike her skirt up over her hips to climb the tree, and that he would have to put a hand on her bottom to boost her up to the first branch. "Maybe I better change."

Penn shrugged. He had made his point.

"Wait here, Grandpa." She dashed toward the boulder. Then she stopped, "Oops."

"Just go where we were, and knock," he called.

She did so. In a moment the door opened out, resembling a section of stone. She ran in, and it swung closed.

In another minute the door opened once more, and Llynn charged out. Now she was in blue jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt, and her hair was bound back into a long ponytail. She had done a lot in a hurry.

She ran back to join him. "Now," she said, flushed with excitement.

She lifted her right foot, and he linked his hands to make a stirrup for it. She stepped up, and he lifted her foot to waist height as she grabbed onto the trunk of the tree. Then she dug her feet into the trunk, and he set both hands on her bottom and pushed her up another eighteen inches so that she could reach the branch and get a good hold. He waited below as she scrambled to get her feet up on it and work her way to the upper side. He was ready to catch her if she fell, just as he had been when she was six. But she remained athletic, and soon straddled the branch.

"Watch your handholds," Penn said.

"Got it." She proceeded to climb on up, from branch to branch, as the limbs were closer together there.

Soon she was scarily high. She was still a tomboy, now that she was dressed for it.

When she got so high that he couldn't see her because of the intervening branches, he began to be uncomfortable. How could he know where to catch her, if she fell? And from that height, could he catch her? She was no giant, but she weighed perhaps 110 pounds, and that was more than he could handle if it came at him with any force. Yet he would have to try.

But she wouldn't fall unless a branch snapped unexpectedly, and these branches would not give way at all. So she was probably safe.

Then she was coming down. He heard her before he saw her. When she was about twenty feet from the ground, she stood on a branch and spread her hands as if about to do a swan dive. "Catch me, Grandpa!"

"Don't jump, you idiot!" he cried.

She laughed as she resumed her descent. "Gotcha that time, didn't I?"

She had, indeed.

She reached the lowest branch, then swung below it, hung by her hands, and waited for him to clasp her legs and ease her to the ground. He had to slide her down across his body, face to face, and her shirt tore out before her feet were all the way down. He averted his face before her descending bra collided with it.

She laughed as she put herself back together. She knew she had been naughty. "It's payback, Grandpa."

"Payback?"

"For winning the bet."

"Bet?"

"I'm not going home tomorrow."

Oh. "Then you can help us figure it all out. There's a lot more to that house than this."

"I'm game. Tell me about it."

"This isn't the only setting."

"Setting?"

"There's a panel by the door. It changes scenes."

"And this is just one scene? This I must see."

They returned to the boulder. Chandelle opened the door, and the three of them walked to the panel on the wall.

"This is the panel. Try punching numbers."

She looked, and saw the #6 on the panel. She touched 5. The ugly plain with tree stumps appeared.

"They cut it all down!" she cried, horrified. "That beautiful forest!"

Penn hadn't thought of that. #5 was the future of #6? "Could be."

She touched 4. The modern city scene appeared. "That's not here! NotPhiladelphia ! I would recognize the horizon."

"So it's not just countryside," he agreed. He had not recognized the city either. "And it doesn't align with the front door."

"I guess not," she agreed, not understanding his import.

She touched 3. A futuristic city appeared, with buildings formed into graceful escarpments, and suspended walkways between them.

"This is time travel!" she exclaimed. She was one quick study, once a subject had her full attention. She touched 2.

This was a scene of desolate destruction. Only the ruins of buildings showed, and nothing lived. "After World War Three." She touched 1.

Now there was an alien village there, with contours that made no sense for human habitation. "And after we obliterate ourselves, the aliens move in and start anew," she concluded. She glanced atPenn. "And the higher numbers go into the distant past?"

"Yes. Back to the original lava flows."

"Wow." She touched 6, restoring theoak forest . "There's more? I mean, elsewhere in the house?"

"Yes."

She walked to the next room and picked up the phone. She dialed a number. "Mom? Pack the rest of my things. I'm going to be here forever." There was a pause. "No, it's no joke. This house—" She glanced at Penn, who shook his head. "Is fascinating, with a really nice yard. I'll pick my stuff up tomorrow." She hung up, surely leaving her mother amazed.

"It seems best not to advertise what we have here," Penn said, a bit lamely. "Until we understand it better."

"Got it. Let's go out and explore that forest. I want to know how far it goes."

"There are mountain bicycles in the garage. We could loop around several miles before dark."

"Great! Only keep Grandma inside to open the door."

He nodded. "That's one reason we wanted you. To have a party of two to explore, without leaving the house empty."

"Got it. Let's go."

That quickly, it was decided. They got the bicycles, loaded knapsacks with spot supplies, and headed out. "Be home before dark, you kids!" Chandelle warned them.

"Yes, ma," Llynn replied.

"Yes, ma," Penn echoed. They laughed, sharing the generational joke. It was good to have rapport, rather than opposition. Llynn had been set for hostility, but the house and its settings had demolished that.

They rode along a contour, generally west. When they lost sight of the house they paused and Penn brought out some bright elastic tape and put a band around a tree. They intended to follow the sun, but to provide a return trail too, so as to be very certain not to get lost. They did not want to get caught out here at night.

They continued, banding trees spaced so that the last band was always in sight from the current one.

That meant that from any given tree, they should be able to see the bands both forward and back. They would verify that on the return trip.

The bikes were good. They had the wide tires that handled sand and turf, and the level handlebars that facilitated power without forcing an uncomfortable hunch. With fifteen speed settings, they had no trouble finding what was comfortable.

"You know, this is fun," Llynn said as they paused for another banding.

"Exploring the unknown?"

"That, too. I mean, just being out here with you, Grandpa, doing something. The way we used to, when I was a kid. I thought it'd be dull as dishwater, but it's not."

"It's the philosophy of dating," he said.

"Of what?"

"When you meet a boy, you don't want to just sit there and wait for him to make a move on you. You need to be doing something else, so you have a pretext to be together without rushing things. So you go to a movie or something, a shared experience, and that alleviates the awkwardness."

She glanced at him. "Times have changed, Grandpa. We don't exactly do movies anymore. But maybe you're right. Shared experience."

They came to a stream. "That looks very good, along about now," Llynn said, dismounting. She was breathing hard, and there was a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. Penn knew that the same was true for him. They had been moving well, propelled by the excitement of the chase to they-knew-not-where.

She flopped on the ground and put her mouth to the flowing water. And stopped. "Hey!"

"What?"

"It's frozen!"

Penn kneeled and touched it with a finger. It was hard, but not chill. "Not exactly. It's not cold enough."

She touched it. "You're right. It's like plastic." She looked up at him. "A fake river?"

"Why would anyone bother?" Then he made a connection. "The trees—we can touch them, climb them, smell them, but not affect them. This river's like that."

She sat up. "Yeah." Then she looked at the sky. "Know something else? That sun hasn't moved since we started, and it's been at least an hour now."

Penn looked at his watch, surprised. "Yes. This puts a different complexion on it."

She got up and stepped on the river. Then she stood on it. "We can't change things here. But they sure seem real. Can we explain that?"

"This forest," he said slowly. "If the door is a window to other times, this must be a long time ago. Before there were men to chop down trees. There's no sign of human presence here. Since man could have come to this continent anywhere up to twenty-thousand years ago, that suggests this forest is older. Say thirty-thousand years."

"I'll buy that. But why can't we affect it?"

"Because if it's real, it would be a paradox. We are in effect visitors from the future. If we change something, we could start a process that results in our not existing."

"Oh, yeah. Like killing your own grandfather." She glanced at him again. "No offense."

"You rub out your grandfather, you're gone," he said with a smile. "I don't think you want to do that."

"For sure. So we can't change anything here. And it's frozen. But why is the sun frozen too? We can't exactly reach up and touch that."

Penn pondered. "Maybe it isn't that there's some temporal law that prevents us from committing paradox. Maybe it's that as visitors we are in a different time frame. So that we are very fleeting, like ghosts."

"Ghosts can walk through walls," she pointed out. "We can't."

Penn continued to work it out. "Suppose our time were a thousand times as fast as the forest time. Then an hour for us would be like a few seconds here. And a minute of its time would be—" he paused, trying to work it out in his head.

"Sixteen hours," she said. "So the sun would hardly move at all. And trees would seem solid, because they're still there no matter how fast we move. And water would flow like frozen molasses. And air—"

She paused, startled. "Could we breathe?"

"If we were a thousand times as fast? It would be like a thousand-mile-an-hour hurricane. In fact, I don't think we could move through air that thick."

"But we are moving, and it's not thick at all."

"There goes a good theory," he said ruefully.

Llynn frowned. "It's too good a theory to give up just yet. It accounts for everything except that. We can't make a paradox because we're too fleeting. So maybe there's an exception for the air."

"It seems farfetched."

She smiled. "Try it anyway. We've got a good theory to rescue."

"Well, if we are to explore this region at all, or any of the other ones the door accesses, we do have to be able to breathe. Otherwise we die very soon after we step out that door. We have to be able to move, too, without fighting a thousand-mile-an-hour or worse gale. So maybe there is a bubble of air around us—"

"A force field."

"That transfuses oxygen in for us to breathe, and transfuses waste gases out. So we can move and breathe, but it doesn't cover native solids or liquids."

She nodded. "It works for me. Theory saved."

"But it leads to a nervous conjecture. That can't be mere coincidence. Who set this up, to enable us to explore? Who is watching us?"

"Doesn't bother me. The house is a set-up, by something that goes way beyond anything we know.

We're guinea pigs. I'm so fascinated that I'm willing to let them watch, for the sake of the weird experience they're giving me. This is better than a super smoke."

"What?" he asked, alarmed.

"I'm joking, Grandpa. I'm not into that stuff. Better than a world-class amusement park."

Penn tried to mask his enormous relief. "Do you really feel easy about it?"

"Grandpa, I love the thrill of adventure. That's why I'm dating a bad boy. This is a bigger adventure.

Easy? No. Scary? Yes. That's why I like it."

He shook his head. "Your grandmother isn't as comfortable about it as you are."

She quickly got serious. "She's not going to quit on the house?"

"I don't think so. But maybe we shouldn't play up the scary aspects."

"For sure. Let's get back before she worries."

They got on the bicycles. Experimentally, Llynn rode hers across the surface of the river. Then they headed east, tracking their tree bands.

"The ground's hard," she remarked. "Like the river. The leaves don't crackle under the tires, the sand doesn't give way. That's why it's easy to ride."

"Yes. I also note that there are no animals."

"That's right! They should be standing still. How come we haven't seen any?"

"Maybe there aren't many on the ground, so we just haven't traversed enough territory. But there should be birds."

"How about this: we see birds when they move. If they're frozen in place, we don't notice them. But if we look harder, maybe we will."

"Maybe," he agreed.

Thereafter they scanned the trees and branches as they rode—and soon Llynn did spy a bird. It was just a little wren pecking under a piece of bark, looking like a museum model, but definitely real. Later they spied another bird, flying, hanging in the air between trees.

"Theory confirmed," Llynn said.

They reached the house faster than they had left it, because they were no longer pausing to band trees.

They rode up to the boulder in the glade, and the door opened before they stopped.

"What a relief!" Chandelle said.

"Something amiss?" Penn asked as they parked the bikes and came to the door.

"Not exactly. I just don't feel easy being alone in the house. Little things bother me. Like the plaque."

"The one by the stairs that says one?"

"It said zero when I first saw it yesterday. This morning it said one. Now it says two."

"Some kind of slow clock?" Llynn asked. "Measuring half days?"

"Measuring something," Penn said, leading her to it. Sure enough, the number had changed. "Could be anything. Like how much electricity has been used."

"I'll keep an eye on it," Llynn said. Then, after a pause. "I guess I'd feel nervous, alone in a house like this. Maybe we need another person." She was evidently concerned that Chandelle would decide to leave before all the mysteries were solved.

"Even a pet dog would help," Chandelle said. "It would be aware of things we aren't. They say the very best burglar defense is a dog."

"A dog," Penn mused. "But we may be here only a month. We can't buy a dog just for that. Is there one we could borrow? House-trained, friendly, alert?"

"Obsidian," Chandelle said.

"That's cousin Lloyd's dog," Llynn said. "In Okinawa."

"Yes, Lloyd's dad is stationed there now," Penn agreed. "And that's halfway around the world."

"Besides which, Cousin Lloyd is the world's worst brat. Obsidian doesn't go anywhere without him."

Lloyd was thirteen, and mouthy. But if there was one juvenile smarter than Llynn, it was Lloyd. And the idea of the dog had taken hold. "Maybe it would be worth it, to have them both here," Penn said. "Lloyd could figure out the computer, and the dog would guarantee no hostile intrusion."

Llynn glanced at Chandelle. Penn could almost see the girl's thought process: lousy boy, great dog, reassure Grandma. One debit, two credits. "Okay. I guess I can bear that cross for a while. Send them a plane ticket."

"They couldn't get here soon," Chandelle protested. "The dog would have to have special handling; she's way too big to carry on board by hand."

"She weighed eighty-seven pounds, last I heard," Penn agreed ruefully. "I guess it was a bad idea."

"No, there must be a way," Llynn said quickly. "Call them, Grandpa. Maybe it would be possible in a couple of days, if there were a family emergency or something."

"Are you suggesting that I pretend—"

"Oh, come on. We're sitting on the weirdest property in the world, right now, and we need to get our dominoes lined up. How do we know what could happen? We need that dog now." Her eyes flicked toward Chandelle. She was facing away from her grandmother, so only Penn saw it, as she intended.

He looked at his wife. "Is there a case?"

"I would feel easier, dear."

There was a case. Chandelle tended to understate things; she was really concerned about the implications of the house. Obsidian would definitely reassure her, and surely be useful in other ways, because she was an extremely curious dog with keen senses. Llynn was eager to stay and fathom the mysteries of the house, which was exactly what they wanted. And Lloyd, obnoxious as he could be at times, was eerily sharp on things the elder generation hardly understood, like computers and the Internet.

It seemed like a good team.

Llynn was right: this house and its apertures were strange indeed, and possibly dangerous. They needed their strongest team, and they needed it now.

"I will call," he agreed.

"Great!"

"Thank you dear."

And Penn himself was pleased, because this mystery had galvanized his outlook. He wanted to explore every part of it, as rapidly and competently as possible. It was already clear that there was science here that was unknown to human intellect, and challenges available nowhere else. They had a month to fathom it all, if they could. It promised to be the best month of their lives.