Genie and the Sandman Read online

  Genie and the Sandman

  The Diary of Payton Wren Book 2

  By

  Julie Parker

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  World Castle Publishing, LLC

  Pensacola, Florida

  Copyright © Julie Parker 2018

  Smashwords Edition

  Hardback ISBN: 9781629898773

  Paperback ISBN: 9781629898780

  eBook ISBN: 9781629898797

  First Edition World Castle Publishing, LLC, February 26, 2018

  http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com

  Smashwords Licensing Notes

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

  Cover: Karen Fuller

  Editor: Maxine Bringenberg

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter One

  The smell of wood smoke surrounds me as the flickering reflection of flames dances across the pages resting on my lap. I’m sitting outside in the cool night air, a light blanket over my shoulders, the ground hard beneath me. I take care to gaze around every few minutes, making sure the area is secure, so that I may begin my tale. I can shelter in a nearby cave, if I feel threatened, or if the weather turns fierce, but really, aside from the notions of silly-girl worrying, I have no fear. I am alone. For now. My dear Logan is not here. We separated five days ago. My belly knots in anticipation of him. I feel him with my heart if not my hand. All I can do is wait, and hope for his return. Keeping myself busy and laying low is the best thing to do right now, but while we’re apart, I have this time to write my tale. It will be a welcome distraction from my tremulous thoughts. And so I’ll begin where I left off…in the place I thought was home….

  One of the things I’ll remember most about the new world Logan and I landed in is how much it reminded me of our own. Everything looked the same; my mom, my cottage, my room, even the stuff on my laptop. It had me fooled…for two days, in fact. I sat in that room and wrote and wrote, and never once thought I wasn’t home. That was, until I saw those three glowing moons shining down through my window.

  I’ve been through so much since then. Even now, though my flash drive rests securely around my neck, I am writing this new tale the old-fashioned way; by hand. I did remember to save my other story first, right after seeing those moons. Then I grabbed a backpack and started throwing some clothes into it. No way was I getting stuck in another world without a change of clothes again. The next thing I packed was a journal, which was right where I’d hoped it would be, and a handful of pens and pencils. I snuck out the bedroom window and ran off into the night to find Logan.

  I didn’t make it far.

  Halfway to Logan’s house we ran into each other on the road. He was moving fast and almost ran right past me in the dark. When he stopped, he was puffing hard and appeared frustrated. What a welcome sight he was. In my race to pack and flee, great fear had grabbed a hold of me. What if something had happened to him? This new world had seemed like home, but I knew looks could be deceiving.

  “Did you see the moons?” he asked.

  “I just noticed them.” If I sounded a little defensive it was because he had sounded accusing, as though this giant mistake we’d made was my fault. Why wasn’t he wrapping me in his arms, gushing with relief at the safe sight of me?

  “So did I. Last night there must have been clouds over the other two, ’cause I only saw the one. My God. I never imagined we weren’t home.”

  I pushed aside my deflated ego and matched his analytical tone. “I’ve been writing about what happened to us. I hardly left my room, so I didn’t notice anything different, until tonight.”

  Logan paced on the dirt road. “There were a few things, minor things that seemed off to me, but nothing was a huge red flag.”

  “What kind of things?” I asked, hoping he could shed some light on where or when we were.

  “Like some of the furniture was placed differently. And my room had different sheets on the bed…you know, little stuff.”

  Not much help. “Well, we’re definitely not in our dimension, not even in the past or future of it, not with those things….” I gestured over my head at the three glowing orbs looming down at us.

  Logan gazed up at the sky. “We’ve got to go back. Into the tunnel.”

  I knew we had to leave, but despite my misgivings I was hesitant. I mean, what if this was as close to home as we were going to get? Better here than medieval times, or someplace else.

  Logan noticed my backpack. “I guess you already figured that out since you’re packed.” It was a rhetorical question.

  I shrugged. “I was just coming to find you. And this time, I wanted to be prepared.”

  “Good idea.”

  He started walking back in the direction of his place, and I followed along feeling forlorn. I couldn’t help but think of poor old Logan and Payton. We’d failed them. They were, thanks to us, still lost in the abyss, somewhere. Then I remembered…. “Logan. The map.” I’d forgotten all about it, having to leave it behind when we fled with Baleck. I still had it firmly locked in my memory, but I needed to write it down again soon, and add an X to this new doorway we’d been fooled into entering. I couldn’t help but wonder if old Logan and Payton might have made the same mistake.

  “The map?” Logan stopped walking, and then understanding dawned on him. “Oh. We need to rewrite it. Can you do it? Do you remember it all?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I got a good look at it, and luckily, I brought along a journal and pens and pencils.”

  “Good.” He continued walking with determined strides. “We’ll sneak up to my room and you can draw it out while I pack some stuff.”

  The moons lighted our way to Logan’s house, being the only anomaly on this mild summer night. Crickets chirped and lightning bugs flickered, and at the lake I’d heard bullfrogs croaking, sounding just as they would in our world. Part of me wanted to go back to the cottage, even though it wasn’t mine, and crawl into bed and forget about leaving. I was exhausted, physically and mentally. I felt unprepared to continue this grueling journey.

  “Have you healed anything?” Logan asked suddenly. “Since coming back, I mean.”

  I had written extensively about my “gift,” but I hadn’t performed any miracles in this world. “No,” I said. “I wonder if I even can.” How I felt about this, I wasn’t sure. Did I want to retain my gift? Or should I be glad to be free of it?

  “I suppose it doesn’t matter at this point, since we’re leaving anyway.”

  That got me to thinking. “What if we do make it home and I still can do it?” The word freak resounded in my head. It wasn’t a label I aspired to hold.

  “Then you could help people, but there’d be a lot of explaining to do. I suppose we could make up a story, say you were struck
by lightning or something?”

  “Yeah, well, there are people who do claim to be able to heal with their touch in our world, so I guess I wouldn’t be considered too freakish.”

  “One problem at a time, okay? Let’s worry about getting home first.”

  When we arrived at his place we stood out front for a moment checking for signs of life. Now that we knew we didn’t belong I felt hesitant about entering, and I sensed Logan did as well. What if his seemingly normal dad suddenly sprouted claws and a long serpent tongue? What if there were spiders under the floorboards the size of small dogs? I no longer knew what to expect, and of course, I feared the worst. Especially after being subjected to such madness in the world we’d just left.

  “Ready?” Logan asked.

  “I guess.”

  He led the way, bravely striding up to the front door. The house was dark inside, but we didn’t want to turn on any lights and call attention to ourselves. Being careful of bumping into the furniture, we carefully crept upstairs. The few feet we had to travel to reach his bedroom door suddenly seemed impossibly long. Through the tall window at the end of the hall, we could see the moons casting an ominous glow upon the floor. The floorboards creaked—of course—sounding like cannon blasts, and it was with trepidation that we finally entered his room and shut the door behind us. We held our breath and listened for any signs of discovery. When all remained silent, Logan switched on the light and quickly went to work.

  He opened his closet and drawers and tossed items into his backpack. Meanwhile, I sat on his bed and began work on the map. I closed my eyes and searched my memory for it while my pen hovered over the journal. Once I located it, I locked on, opened my eyes, and began to sketch. It was a crude and hurried rendition; I was finished when Logan was ready. I tucked the journal into my pack and then we headed out into the hallway again.

  Once we got downstairs we went directly to the kitchen. The stairs to the basement were there. Logan made a B-line for the fridge and opened it to peruse the contents. I came up behind him and looked over his shoulder. He made a grab for an unopened package of bologna and a large block of old cheese.

  “In the cupboard, grab some peanut butter and whatever cans we can fit into our bags,” he instructed me. “Oh, and a can opener.”

  I did as he asked, figuring it was a good idea to be as prepared as we possibly could. Both of our packs soon sat on the kitchen table, bulging at the seams. We were ready to go. “You’re gonna have to hoist this on my back,” I told him after testing the weight with my hands.

  Logan frowned when he picked it up. “Aww, you can’t carry this. It’s way too heavy.”

  As much as I wanted to disagree, I feared he was right. “I could try.” A noble but lame reply.

  “We may need to move swiftly; you’ll just slow us down. And I can’t carry both.”

  He probably could if he tried, but there would be that “slow us down” problem again. I didn’t object when he removed half-a-dozen cans and put them on the table.

  “If I could fit them in I’d bring ’em, but we should still be okay,” he said.

  I felt bad. If I was stronger, I could have managed the weight, but it was what it was. Logan re-tied the laces to my pack and tested the weight. Seeming satisfied, he hefted it onto my back. It was still heavy, but I figured I could manage.

  “Okay,” he said, swinging his own pack on. “Let’s go.” He grabbed a couple of flashlights out of a drawer and handed me one, then he walked over and opened the door to the basement.

  I looked at the door and froze. This was happening. We were leaving. “Wait. Maybe we should think this through a minute.”

  He stared at me, his expression clearly confused, bordering on frustration. “What are you talking about, Payton? We’re not home. As much as it feels and looks the same, it’s not.”

  The pack grew heavier by the second, seeming to be weighted down not only with supplies, but with my fears, anxiety, and exhaustion as well. I shuffled from foot to foot. “Things are moving so fast. We don’t know where we going. We don’t have a plan.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  I laughed without mirth. “What am I not afraid of? What if this is as good as it’s ever going to get for us? If we leave, we may never find our way back, with or without the map. And God only knows where we’ll end up next time. This isn’t a game. That was some serious shit back there. Life and death. We could have died.” He could have died. And if I was forced to do this on my own without him, I couldn’t bear it.

  “I know you’re afraid. But we have the map. We have each other. We’ll be okay.” His tone was soothing, his expression softened.

  I nodded once, agreeing with him, being too tired and confused to argue. “Okay. You’re right. Let’s go.” My reluctant steps brought me to his side.

  Before we could take more than a few steps down, we heard a voice. “Logan? What are you doing up in the middle of the night?”

  It might not have been so weird if Logan’s dad had been the one to discover us. In fact, it could have easily been explained, since we hadn’t exactly been overly discreet in the kitchen pitching all those noisy cans around.

  But it wasn’t Logan’s dad.

  It was a woman. One I’d never laid eyes on before. And as Logan rounded on me and barged back up through the doorway, the look on his face really freaked me out. He stared at the woman as though he was looking at a ghost. I was totally unprepared when he dropped his pack and stalked over to her and pulled her tightly into his arms.

  “Mom!”

  Chapter Two

  Mom? I didn’t know Logan had a mom. He had lived with only his father from the time I met him, so I’d just assumed his dad was a widower. Logan never talked about her, and I hadn’t seen any pictures lying around. Maybe in this world she was alive? But then, I guess the whole “if your counterpart dies, then you die” idea of mine had been totally off the mark. Perhaps I’d worried for nothing?

  Logan’s back was to me, but I could see the expression on his mom’s face. It was a mixture of confusion and annoyance. The annoyance was clearly aimed at me. I was a little surprised she was fully dressed, considering the late hour. Then I saw a briefcase leaning against the wall, and I figured she’d just come home. Besides, Logan would have surely noticed her if she’d been around earlier. It was just our rotten luck she’d arrived when she did.

  “What happened this time, Payton?”

  “Pardon?” I didn’t have the faintest clue of what she was talking about.

  She let out a big sigh, and with much effort, disentangled herself from Logan’s vice grip. She walked over and brushed a stray curl off my forehead, which would have been a sweet gesture if she wasn’t glaring at me. “Is your mother drunk? Is that the problem? Or are they fighting again?”

  “I….” What could I say? Were these my perfect parents she was referring to? My mother never drank anything stronger than Perrier, and I’d never heard Dad and her fight. I had a perfect life; at least, in my world I did.

  “Mom…,” Logan said, coming over to stand beside her, a long-lost puppy dog look still on his face. When she gazed up at him and smiled he put his hand to his mouth, probably to stifle a gasp. He looked at me and I frowned at him, hoping he would take the hint to play it cool.

  “I know, sweetheart, I can see it written all over both your faces. Well, that, and the backpacks are also a dead giveaway. You were planning on running away together, weren’t you?” Her head then jerked lightning quick back to me. “How many times have I told you not to involve Logan in your schemes? I know things are difficult for you at home, but running away won’t solve anything. They’ll just bring you back again.”

  Again? How many times had the poor other me run away? I suddenly felt quite sorry for myself…my other self.

  “Mom? Where have you been? Why haven’t I seen you the past couple of days?”

  Now that was a good question. It could have been just the hint we’d needed to reali
ze we weren’t in our world…sooner than tonight, that is.

  “I was out of town on business. You know that. Don’t you remember, sweetie? I said goodbye to you before I left.”

  “Yeah, when I was…five.”

  Ahh, that explained much. The anger, the resentment, the faraway look on his face as he pummeled his opponents in karate matches. Suppressed rage from being abandoned as a child. His mom hadn’t died in our world, so the whole death of a counterpart thing was still on the table.

  His mom’s sweet laugh permeated the air. “So, you were only five a week ago? Really, sweetheart, your imagination is boundless.”

  Logan’s mouth hung open like a bullfrog in a room full of flies. I could tell by the expression on his face he was trying to comprehend how different things were for him in this world. What had me wondering, besides the fact that his mother was standing in the way of our escape, was the notion that Logan may no longer want to leave. The jig was up anyway, so I wasn’t sure what we could do about it. I mean, if we just pushed past her and ran downstairs into the tunnel, she’d be sure to follow. Then we’d have a whole mess of new problems.

  I figured the best thing we could do was play it out. We could find another time, a safer time, to leave. Judging by Logan’s obvious lack of reason at the moment, I decided I’d better take things into hand. I’d wanted to wait anyway, just for a little while, and catch our breath before we played roulette with the tunnel again.

  “You’re right, Mrs. McCullough. I shouldn’t have involved Logan. I’m sorry I caused such a bother. I’ll leave.”

  “Leave and go where?” she asked with suspicion.

  “Back to my cottage.”

  She gave me a distrustful look. I guess I was a real troublemaker in this world. “Nonsense. You can’t possibly walk home at this time of night.”

  “I walked here.”

  “But you won’t walk back.”

  Boy, she was tough. I glared at Logan for a little help, but he just shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I can’t fly.” Or can I?