Part One
"Now when the angle of the short leg on this triangle reaches fifteen degrees, the opposite leg's angle must be less than seventy five degrees as the angle below the hypotenuse goes over ninety degrees."
In a town not far off from the city of Ashtabula Ohio, Neil Paulson Nichols yawned while listening to one of Mr. Robocher's monotone lectures about triangles. It's all the man ever talked about in his math classes. Without fail, from Algebra, to Pre-Calculus, he'd find a way for it to involve triangles at least once, even if the topic had little or nothing to do with them. At this rate, the class should receive honorary Doctorates on three sided polygons before graduation.
In the back of the classroom, one student was sleeping on his desk in a pool of his own drool; another was going over her nails, even though she already went over them twice before. Pretty much the whole class was bored out of their minds, all except one: Helen. She just showed up in town a few months ago; and, since her first day of school, she pays very close attention in class, and take notes on everything, everything.
Sometimes, Helen would sit and watch everyone, taking notes on what she saw, like life was giving her a test on itself. Neil even watched her stand in the middle of the hall and stare at people, like they were all just moving statues in her garden of mysteries. The other students avoided her on account of this strange, and frankly creepy, behavior. Helen, however, seemed quite undisturbed by this. She appeared perfectly content sitting at her barren table in the cafeteria, on a bench with her nose buried in a text book, or engaging in her odyssey of unsettling everyone in school. This display continued for the last month solid without interruption.
Neil felt something nudge his left shoulder. Looking back to the next row, his childhood friend, Trisha, gave him a crumpled piece of paper.
Trisha was the only person in town trying to figure Helen's story out. In fact, scheming and secretive planning was standard behavior for Trisha Morgan. Trisha loved detective stories, namely that of Sherlock Holmes and the novels by James Howe. Her inquisitive nature actually turned into a passion for chemistry. After devouring every book and text book on the subject she could get her hands on, she became the best chemist on campus without a doctorate. Meaning, only the professors could challenge her hungry mind, making high school level chemistry, to put it bluntly in her own words, elementary for her.
Naturally, when Helen moved in town and scored second to her in chemistry, Trisha jumped at the chance to introduce herself. However, Helen was too caught up in her business to pursue a friendship with Trisha and she engaged her in little beyond polite small talk. Since this was the last time anyone attempted contact with Helen in school, and her attitude towards Human contact at all remained nonexistent, this gradually disturbed Trisha as the weeks rolled by. In Trisha's mind, no sane person would actively brush off human contact, unless they were up to something. Three weeks after Trisha made first and last contact, the amateur detective made it her personal mission to understand the enigma named Helen. That was six weeks ago.
Sighing, Neil straightened the note, then read:
Neil:
Found something on Helen, meet me at the usual spot after class.
P.S. This note will self-ignite; watch your hands.
A burning string taped to the note set it aflame. Neil dropped it, as the paper quickly turned to ash with little smoke. He glared at her, and she just sheepishly smiled back. Flammable messages, or volatile notes as she called them, were Trisha's way of secretive communication. Cell phones, of course, were just no fun by comparison.
"Mr. Nichols?"
Neil looked to Mr. Robocher. "Yes?"
"What is the hypotenuse of this triangle if the small leg's side is equal to three?"
Neil grabbed his calculator, then pushed a few buttons. "Eleven point five nine?"
"Correct." Without changing his tone, Mr. Robocher continued his lecture.
Trisha gave Neil a thumbs up, then Helen looked back and smiled, which was weird.
She's never done that before. He thought, as Trisha narrowed her eyes in suspicion to this sudden change of Helen's disposition.
Soon, lunch time clocked in and the bell rang. Math class was finally over to everyone's relief. Neil stuffed his school gear into his back pack, then left the room to meet Trisha. Everyone went straight to the mess-hall, emptying the hallways rather quickly. Out in the main hallway, he checked his watch to see if he had time for both Trisha and lunch.
"Hey, eagle eye," a voice called from a corner he passed.
Neil gritted his teeth, then he slowly turned. "Hello, Blake."
Blake Thomson stood six feet-two inches tall and was the school's athlete; he was fit, fast, smart and the center of all douchebagery that took place on campus. His hobbies included punching, shoving, insulting, holding a magazine racket business, sniffing Nurgle farts, sacrificing kittens to the blood god, pledging himself to the god of schemes and having a passion for making Neil's day hell; in addition, he got away with all of it, as no one could prove he did these things. He was a straight A student with no recorded history of trouble making to speak of. Anyone that wanted to report him was quelled by Blake’s natural born talent for blackmail; and, his golden record made reports against him unbelievable to the school faculty. With these unholy perks, Blake could turn any of his victims into a suspect if he needed to. This made him virtually untouchable.
Blake walked closer, then put his hands on Neil's shoulders, his blue eyes glaring at him. "Where are you off to in such a rush?"
"Lunch?" Neil tried to remove Blake's hands. "Let go, Blake."
Blake tightened his grip just to spite his wishes, almost digging his nails into Neil's back. "What's that? Did you forget about our business agreement?"
Neil just stood there, glaring at him. "No."
"Good." Blake smiled, then let go. "So, you brought the merchandise?"
Neil, rubbing his shoulders, let his back-pack down. After opening it, he handed some playboy magazines to Blake. "Take them. Do you remember your end of the deal?"
Blake ran a finger over the adult magazines, counting them. He's been selling these to students who could afford them for years; and, his knack for blackmail, obviously blessed by the ruinous powers of all that was smothered in smut, ensured he never got caught either. He looked at the magazines, then nodded. "I remember the deal." He frowned. "However, you forgot the Hustlers."
"They were out-" Neil started.
Blake laughed. "Neil, have I ever broken a promise?"
Neil shook his head, begrudgingly. "No"
"So, you know if you do not have the rest of the merchandise by, oh, let's say... lunch time tomorrow, Trisha's chem final test score will crash like the Hindenburg?"
Neil looked down scowling, then nodded.
Blake shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry, Neil; but, a promise is a promise. Besides, we're partners in this business, remember? You'll figure it out. You would never let your girlfriend down; right?"
"She's just a friend."
Blake chuckled, then punched Neil's sore shoulder hard, forcing him to stumble back. "Whatever; see you at lunch, Romeo."
Neil put his back-pack on, wincing in pain, while Blake walked to the mess-hall. After he lost sight of him, Neil continued to meet Trisha while re-checking his watch. "I should still be early." At the 'usual' place, being the old school wing that was off limits to students, he sat in one of the dusty old desk chairs in the half boarded off history class room and waited.
"Hey'a!" Trisha greeted after arriving. "Glad you made it."
"Hey." Neil waved. "Now, what's this about Helen?"
"Okay." She sat on the dusty teachers desk. "It took me a while; but, I've finally learned that Helen's been going to the basement right when school's over once every two weeks. We know there are no windows or doors down there to outside; it's completely shut off, right? So, get this; she shows up for school the very next day without leaving! Creepy right?"
"Terrifying." Neil leaned back into his chair. "Alright, so what?"
"Heh, today just so happens to be two weeks from the last time Helen disappeared into the basement. So, when school's over, I'm going to wait for her near the basement door after the bell rings, then stalk her and close this case for good. Should be a piece of cake, since there's only one way in and out."
"Trisha...." Neil leaned forward on the desk, raising an eye brow at her. "Remember what happened the last time you investigated a student you thought was hiding something?"
She scrunched her nose, partly embarrassed by the memory, and frustrated at her friend's doubts. "This is totally different! Besides, if I had known being a guy was Olivia's secret, I would've backed off. She was just such a brat all the time! After that milkshake incident, I had to teach her a lesson in manners."
"That lesson being, don't be an angst driven transsexual?" Neil smiled, holding back a laugh.
"Yes. Having a dick doesn't mean you get to be one." She giggled. "Come on, what if she's really up to something, Neil? Like if...like if she's a Russian spy or something, and she's using this school to smuggle government secrets out the basement?!"
Neil face-palmed. "I seriously doubt that-"
"Challenge accepted." Trisha snatched her back pack, then walked out the room.
Neil scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. "Great. There she goes." He knew there was just no stopping Trisha when she made up her mind. This conversation got him thinking about Neolithic Africans, just before they migrated to Europe across the Mediterranean. He imagined how the conversation between the children and their parents might have gone.
"Urd, my daughter, there is nothing but death beyond the deep water. I forbid you to follow those fools to cross it."
"You'll see, father. Not only will we cross it but build a great clan there."
"And where is there exactly? Have you seen this place?"
"What about the gods? We have never seen one, but still sacrifice to them."
"That is hardly the same thing."
"You always say there are things in this world yet seen. Why is this place not one of them?"
"Even if such a land is found, it will be wild and untamed. You have little experience in taming and hunting. I doubt you could offer much help."
"Challenge accepted."
Neil sighed, grabbed his bag, then followed Trisha to finish school, and, hopefully, keep her out of trouble.
After Ms. Abernathy's history class, Neil organized his locker to finish up his day, when Helen stepped by.
She cleared her throat. "Ahem."
Neil turned, then jumped a little at how close she was to him, just within an arms reach. "Helen? Um, yes?"
She smiled, pushed her glasses higher up her freckled nose, then brushed the curly dark brown bangs out of her deep brown eyes. "Your overall knowledge of the Paleo to Neolithic era back in class was sharp. I find your knack for detail in the manufacture and use of stone age tools exceptional; and, I got goosebumps when your presentation ended with the farming techniques of Neolithic man."
"Thanks?" Neil closed his locker, then locked it, taken aback that Helen was actually talking to him, let alone complementing him. "Was there something you needed?"
"Yes." She lifted a clipboard up with a pencil ready. "Can I ask you a few things? You and Trisha are the only ones I haven't surveyed yet in this school."
Neil's eyes widened. Helen's note taking had evolved into interviewing people in school? When had that started? He mentally shrugged. "What's this survey for?"
"For a paper I'm doing on this school, is it alright?"
Neil scratched his head. "Eh, sure. What do you need to know?"
"First, how long have you studied here?"
"Well, this place used to have a grade school, before it closed two years ago. I guess since I was ten, so...I've been here for seven years, grade school to high school."
She scribbled some. "Alright. What do you plan on majoring in once you graduate?"
"Not sure yet, I'm still waiting for something to jump at me."
"I'm sure something will. So, do you like this school?"
He smirked. "I don't think anyone does as much as you do."
She smiled back. "Pride in one's work is a virtue. Wouldn't you agree?"
Neil nodded. "Yeah. I can relate to that."
She wrote more, then said, "final question, what do you think is the greatest asset in this world?"
"That's a tall order." Neil pondered some before answering. "People who think of you, no matter where you are."
"Great answer! That's all I needed. Thanks!" Helen looked around. "Do you know where I could find Trisha, by chance?"
Neil scratched his head. Should he tell her about Trisha waiting by the basement door? "Um, if you haven't seen her yet, she's probably home by now." He lied.
"I'll just ask her tomorrow, then." Helen waved. "Bye, maybe we could talk again?"
"I'd like that." Neil waved back and watched her walk away. "Man, today's getting stranger by the minute." He checked his wristwatch, then saw Helen turn down the left hall leading to the basement. Neil followed. While leaning over a corner, he watched her open the basement door. After checking if anyone was watching, she went in, closing the door behind. He moved down the hall, looking for Trisha.
"Pisst!"
Neil peered left, then saw the Janitor's closet slightly open, with Trisha peeking out.
She gestured at the basement door. "See?"
"Alright, she's down there, like you said." Neil crossed his arms. "Let's say for humor's sake, she is a spy. Spies carry guns, right? I suppose you have some defense for that?"
"Yep." She went for the door with her personal camcorder in hand.
"Does that camera ensnare the souls of unwary mortals, or, in this case, Communists?" Neil asked, smiling sarcastically.
Trisha smiled back. "Something like that." She twisted the knob without success. "Locked, she must've known we're following her."
"Damn, a socialist barricade of biblical proportions." Neil mockingly sighed in defeat. "We better get home before the Reds invade."
"What?" she furrowed her eye brows at him.
He held up his cellphone. "Should I get Patrick Swayze to help? I have him on speed dial."
"Sure; but, before you do, let's just use the Janitor's key." Trisha held a key ring up, giving it a jingle with a smirk.
Neil frowned. "How did you get the Janitor's key set?"
"With the Principle's key set." She answered matter-of-fact.
The boy face-palmed. "Of course you did."
After she unlocked the door, Neil buckled himself to his backpack, then followed private eye Trisha down the stairs into the basement. The old lighting was hardly efficient and tenuously illuminated everything. The brick walls were settling in places, while unmaintained pipes leaked from the ceiling, leaving slippery pools scattered about the floor. The air felt and smelled stale and wet, like the building itself was perspiring.
Clearly more than a few state health codes were being violated down here. All this made the basement an eerie and unpleasant place. Neil just wanted to leave and was thankful for every locked door they confronted, hoping they would prove unopenable; unfortunately, Trisha dashed the hope with a key for each one.
Neil's nose filled with a nasty moldy odor once she opened the fourth door in a room with a wet floor and dank walls. "Remind me why I let you drag me into places like this?"
"Because, you like it?" Trisha pointed at the last door. "Shhh, look!"
Lights flickered from the edges of the doorway at the end of the hall, with a soft humming vibration coming from behind it. Neil and Trisha just shared looks, feeling the hairs on their skin perk up. Walking closer, the gooseflesh intensified and the humming grew louder every step closer they took. After opening the door into another storage room, Trisha turned on her camcorder. She smirked, seeing a shadow of a person cast on the wall from a flickering light to the right of the room.
His instincts screaming danger, Neil grabbed Trisha's shoulder. "I don't like this. Let's go back."
"No way, not before we get her." She jerked her shoulder free and briskly walked into the room, yelling, "The jig's up Helen! We've caught you-" Trisha froze and the color drained from her face.
Neil quickly joined her and his blood turned cold.
The storage room was mostly empty, save for Helen standing near a man sized ellipse of light in the corner. Neil guessed it was some sort of star gate, or portal. The astounded boy saw a skyline with clouds. Forests stood in the distance beyond a scene with rolling hills and farms. A town was nestled at the center of the valley, where a river ran nearby with a small bridge to cross it connected to a simple dirt road leading to the settlement. It all seemed so real, despite Neil's mind firing on all cylinders to offer explanations to the contrary. All counterarguments disintegrated, however, once a fresh cool breeze wafted from the portal. Neil smelled something baking upon the wind. Perhaps, pastries?
Helen looked back over her shoulder and gasped, seeing Neil and Trisha staring at her with mouths agape. She quickly turned and shouted, "Oh, thank god! Neil, Trisha, I'm so glad you're here!" Helen backed away from the portal, then pointed at it fearfully. "This weird thing popped in out of nowhere and nearly sucked me inside it!"
Trisha narrowed her eyes at her. "Is that a wormhole?"
"Worm-hole?" Helen repeated, then shrugged. "Dunno, I've read about time-warps and stuff like that; but, I never thought any of it was actually true." She looked at the portal anxiously. "What are we going to do?!"
"You just happened to be down here when that appeared?" Trisha asked, "Why?"
"Errm." Helen's eyes looked side to side as she thought out her story. "Weed?"
Trisha deadpanned. "You were smoking weed in the basement before a wild portal opened?"
"Legalize it I say!" Helen nodded proudly, then asked sheepishly smiling, "You won't tell anyone about this, right?"
"Sure." Trisha just blinked, her expression unchanged. "No need to keep it a secret, because you weren't smoking weed."
Helen replied in surprise by Trisha's bold statement, "excuse me?"
"Cannabis has a very distinct odor. I know because my fat headed cousin smokes that garbage, always saying it makes him think better." Trisha rolled her eyes. "Thinking better makes you think better." She pointed at Helen. "I don't smell any cannabis here. All I smell is a damned dirty lying rat!" She glanced back at Neil. "Right, Neil?"
Neil just blinked, eyes still locked on the portal.
"I'm not a liar." Helen insisted. "I smoked by the vent so no one would know. I'll prove it." She walked closer to Trisha. "Here, look at my eyes. They're most certainly dilated!"
"Stay back!" Trisha tried to push Helen back, but her hand phased through her chest.
"Whoa!" Neil unfroze himself and ran to Trisha.
Trisha screamed while pulling her hand back and taking a few steps away.
Neil took her hand to inspect it, then relief washed over him seeing no signs of injury.
"That explains the damned portal." Trisha frowned while pointing a finger at Helen angrily. "What are you, an alien sent here to scout our planet for possible invasion?!"
Helen stammered, "I-invasion? No way! I'm here to just collect knowledge. It's quite harmless, I promise."
"Yeah, I bet!" Trisha held the camcorder up. "Let's see how you fare when my world knows about this!"
"You really shouldn't do that." Helen waved her hands. "Really, if you just let me explain-" She saw Trisha recording her, then looked at Neil. "Neil, you'll listen, right?"
Neil just stared at her, silently.
"Thought you could lie your way out, huh? You fat faced Xeno!" Trisha smirked devilishly. "When I upload this on the web, your alien ass is Earthling grass!"
"I am not fat!" Helen stomped her foot down, then sighed and glared at Trisha. "You leave me no choice." Helen stepped in quickly and grabbed the camcorder.
"Oh, no, you don't!" Trisha pulled it back, but Helen held on.
Both grunted and struggled for dominance over the camcorder. Helen smiled and dragged Trisha by her heels towards her.
Trisha glared back at Neil. "A little help would be nice!"
Neil ran beside her and grabbed the camcorder. Even against two people, Helen was holding her own, pulling them both hard enough their shoes skid on the moist floor. Strangely, the camcorder and Helen's hands glowed a light teal hue.
"Man, she's strong!" Trisha grunted, as her palms started to sweat and lose their grip.
Helen smirked when the camcorder flew free from its owner, but frowned as fast when Neil slipped on a puddle under a drippy pipe.
"Whoa!" Neil's right shoe just gave and he slid towards the wormhole to his horror.
"No, stop!" Helen tried to push him away, but her footing also failed once he collapsed into her. "This spell wasn't designed for Humans!" she desperately screamed.
Neil tumbled into the wormhole with Helen, while Trisha screamed his name as the portal closed shut behind them.
Neil felt weightless, as butterflies tickled his stomach and violent winds tore at his face and body. He forced his eyes open and realized he was falling from a great height. He panicked and clawed at the air, despite the futility of the action. His thrashing turned him backwards. Faster he fell; harsher the wind blew. The sun in the clear sky above blinded him. After cutting through the clouds, he finally managed to turn back around. He saw a big forest below him, filled with green leafy skewers of death.
I'm going to die. He thought, Hit those and die.
Neil bought himself some precious extra seconds of life by opening his body as wide as possible. Before almost touching the tree tops, Neil closed his eyes, covered his face and felt sharp pains assault his body. The thick canopy tore his clothes and cut his arms, but broke some of his momentum with each strike. Hitting branches going down, he flipped after his right leg hit and twisted on a big branch. He reached for the tree. Its weaker branches snapped easily out of his grip. After something tore free off his back, he bounced off a large low branch, knocking the wind out of him. Gasping to refill his lungs, he drew a raspy breath in and screamed before hitting the forest floor, blacking out.
Neil gasped back to life and his mangled body flushed with pain. His chest felt tight; breathing was difficult. He eyed around, seeing nothing but leaves, hanging moss and tree branches. Some sunlight peeped through the canopy, just enough to illuminate the thickets. Neil slowly sat up, not recognizing anything. Birds were singing. Trees, dirt, grass, mossy rocks and bushes surrounded him; a brook babbled nearby; but, he saw no signs of civilization. He tried to stand, then fell to his backside as pain raced up his leg. Inspecting them, his eyes widened seeing a stick had punctured into his right thigh.
Don't panic. He thought while trying to slow his breathing, his mind too shocked to formulate complex words, Pull it out? He pulled on it. Preverbal knifes of anguish cut up his leg, forcing him to let go. Neil caught his breath, then pulled again to his own agony; the commotion startled some nearby birds in the trees to take flight. When it finally came free, he held his bleeding wound, panting heavily. It's over; you're fine. He repeated inside his head, trying to distract himself, It's over; you're fine. He kept pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. After resting a little, he let the pressure off to peek at the hole in his leg. When blood gushed out the pit, he gagged and emptied his lunch unto the forest floor. For what seemed like five minutes of evacuating his stomach, he finally inhaled deeply, breathing in the sweet air. Neil tried to stand after a brief rest, but his leg would not bear it. He promptly fell back to his posterior, the pain turning his stomach outside-in once again, but there was nothing left to puke at this point.
When he could breathe again, Neil surveyed his position with added desperation. Fear mixed with his pain. Neil was in the middle of some forlorn forest, a strange place, surrounded by strange things and strange noises. He was lost, hurt and alone. Worse yet, if he didn't know where he was, it was likely no one else knew. This realization added fuel to the fire and scared him out of his wits. Neil's eyes went wide as a full moon; he explosively inhaled and let out all his pent up fear and shock in one terrible cry.
"Heellp!"
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Why is the teacher screaming like that? You are abusing bold a little too much I think.
Otherwise, interesting enough. I'll follow and see where it goes.
7616103
I can see your point. But, he isn't screaming.
Mr. Robocher just has a very deep voice. That's why I chose to bold them. However, I see it did not have the effect I intended; so, I fixed it. 
Great so far, hope to see more soon
Hope he get either some help soon or get some minor regenerative ability cuz infections can get bad fast...
Iiinnntttteerrreeessstttiiinnnggg...
Trisha's method of contacting Neil during class had me thinking that she had been watching WAY too many spy movies such as the Mission Impossible series. lol
10601187
Inside Morgan's brain as she writes the volatile note
Now, I know thAt My love of wArhammer has probabLy overtaken FAR better paths In terms of jUdment but: here'S hoping that Blake stays for the sake of more Warhammer themed rambles.