The Flip Side

By Lee Frey

Eric wasn’t the only one to escape the destruction at IT. Donald Burke is using his ability to cross over to the “flip side”, to this reality, and terrorize victims of his demented urges. However, when a local news station broadcasts an image of Eric to the millions of people in NYC, Donald sets out to find Eric and kill him in the most horrific manner he can imagine.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee Frey
• Release date: Dec 20, 2010
• ISBN: 9781311007575

Lee Frey

In the past ten years I have written several short works, six novels and several partial manuscripts. I write because I enjoy it--a delicious retreat each morning before the darkness fades away and reality reigns supreme. Nineteen years as a telecom engineer for an international company might not add to my writing credentials, but it does mean that I am not your typical starving artist.

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LEE

FREY

THE FLIP SIDE

BOOK TWO OF THE OTHER SIDE SERIES

A NOVEL BY

LEE FREY

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Lee Frey on Smashwords

Copyright © 2012 by Lee Frey

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Thanks again to Catherine Dube, my editor. I like to refer to her as my Comma Queen, but she is much more than that. Any mistakes you find are probably a result of my unauthorized editing and not any fault of hers.

And of course, thanks again to my loving wife, Kim, for her support. Even if I don’t always agree with her suggestions, I do value her input.

Prologue

‘I may here recall a remark formerly made, namely that it might require a long succession of ages to adapt an organism to some new and peculiar line of life, for instance to fly through the air; but that when this had been effected, and a few species had thus acquired a great advantage over other organisms, a comparatively short time would be necessary to produce many divergent forms, which would be able to spread rapidly and widely throughout the world.’

Charles Darwin. The Origin of Species.

London. John Murray. 1860

Chapter 1

3:12 a.m., Wednesday, March 12th, 2014

Sean, though that was not the name he was born with, lunged forward, fighting the sweat soaked sheets that held him down. His heart threatened to erupt from his chest as he struggled to pull in one raspy breath after another. His eyes scanned the room trying to remember where he was, and for a terrifying moment he was transported to another time, another place--a place that no longer existed. His mind, clicking into place like a complicated locking mechanism, fast-forwarded to more recent memories. Sean lay back as the last fragment fell into place.

Dallas, no Richardson. La Quinta Inn, his whisper was drowned out by the rushing blood in his ears.

Instinctively, he reached toward the nightstand to retrieve the notepad that sat next to his bed as it had for the last year. It was not the same pad. There had been several, sometimes as many as two per month. Initially, the notepad had been used for recording his dreams--hoping to remember further details.

THEY, whoever they were, would review the notes thoroughly in the weekly meetings, looking for meaning where there was none. Dreams were just dreams, or at least his were now--not like before.

Seeking a new purpose, the notepad now held ideas, resolutions to problems, and reminders for the day. So often he would wake in the middle of the night with an idea or thought that had to be written down. Most of what was jotted down was discarded after it was carried out, take out the trash, pick up birthday card, etc., but some of his ideas had a far reaching scope and were later transferred to the iPad that he carried with him day and night.

This dream, however, was not something that needed to be recorded, at least not anymore. His therapy had ended over six months ago, and yet his conditioning took hold. His hand, shaking wildly, paused above the pen before withdrawing it quickly, as though the pen were a serpent about to strike.

Kicking his legs free from the tangle of sheets, he pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them fiercely. His whole body began to shake with a force that nearly rocked him from the bed. His mind was on Jennifer now. She was the rock that anchored him, kept him from floating adrift. She had saved his life and, two years later, was still trying to save his sanity from the psychosis that lurked beneath.

Gradually, the shaking subsided, replaced by a coldness that spread from his core. Relaxing his grip, he let out a small sigh. The terror that had seized him, swallowed him whole, was over.

He had tried several times to put words to the fear. The best he could manage was being forced to watch as a loved one, a spouse for example, was hacked to pieces with a dull hatchet, slowly. First a finger, then a toe, a foot, maybe a hand. The dismemberment taking several blows before severing the body part, the dull cracking thud echoing inside his head. And the screams, both his and theirs, mixed in a horrid duet that grew louder and louder until he woke with a scream trapped in his throat--a scream so large that it was unable to exit his chest through the tiny opening of his mouth and threatened to rip flesh to escape.

Rolling over to the other side of the bed where the sheets were mostly dry, Sean curled up and tried to remember the dream. It had been a couple of months, maybe three, since the last dream of this magnitude. They had occurred nightly, sometimes three or more a night, after his escape. Six months of therapy had eliminated them almost completely. How much of that time was spent trying to help him and how much was sucking his mind dry he would never know, but he did not care. They had stopped the dreams, and that was all that mattered.

They had been like vampires, sucking his blood, figuratively as well as literally, until there was nothing left. Then, just before he died, they filled him with new blood, a new identity. He was not even sure who THEY were. Claiming to be part of the government, they said they were there to protect him, to get him back to reality, back to some semblance of the life he once had.

His new life had been in existence for a long time, the legend written years ago and perpetuated until Eric was reborn into it. A life that existed on paper and electronically, fully documented with fingerprints, photos, and dental records, all stored electronically and easily altered. Thus, Eric Decovney had become Sean Elliot.

* * *

Jennifer, Kate in her previous life, woke with a start. She glanced at the clock wondering if the alarm was about to go off and saw that it was a little after four. She listened for sounds of what had disturbed her, but heard nothing. Relaxing, she turned over and reached out her foot to feel the warm spot where Sean lay, only to find it cold and empty.

Dallas, meeting with TI, she thought as she grudgingly withdrew her foot to the warmth of her own side.

A lot had happened since the trial, but throughout it all, she was there for him. She held him, protected him, loved him. When the Men in Black, as she referred to them had stepped in to rescue him, she was the one that held them back. They needed protection from the media. They needed to escape back into something resembling a normal life. However, she set the limits, drew the line that no one would be allowed to cross.

Sean’s powers had slowly left him. Thus, the assumption was that the drugs that had been used were responsible for his abilities. Yet, they never found the drugs--not even a fingerprint, a trail. Or so they said anyway.

The one thing that she had been truly grateful for, besides their new identities, was their reprogramming of Sean’s musical trigger. Even without the drugs, he was susceptible to hypnosis with a simple string of musical tones. It took less than a week for them to remove the trigger from his subconscious. She had not felt safe until they had removed his programming.

The day that the trigger had been removed was the first day she had truly breathed since his attempted escape. It was as though a band of copper had been wrapped around her chest and riveted in place. When they had removed the trigger, they had also cut the band, and she had been breathing easily ever since.

Sighing, a silent thanks given to the Men in Black, she thought of calling Sean, but it was only three in Dallas. He would not be up for another three hours, two at best. It was not like he was gone all the time. He rarely traveled more than two nights a month, but right now she needed to hold him. Pulling his pillow to her chest pretending that it was Sean, she sighed and floated off toward sleep.

As close as they were emotionally, they were even closer when their subconscious minds took over. Sean had dreams, as terrifying as the one tonight, more times than he knew because the dreams rarely progressed that far. Even before his body jerked or his breathing changed, Jennifer would nudge him from his dream with a touch, reaching out with her foot to find him. Even she did not realize how often this occurred because most times she was asleep herself.

The physical distance between them may have been fifteen hundred miles, but in their sleep, the distance was not measured in miles but rather in milliseconds. The telepathic energy traveling from her mind to his and back was almost instantaneous no matter what distance separated them.

However, tonight their link did not help much. She sensed he needed her, but was unable to reach out to him, even subconsciously, and thus the dream continued. A dream that his subconscious knew was not a dream at all. There were different levels of reality, and this dream had been another level.

Chapter 2

He told himself again and again that it was just a dream. The door to the Other Side was locked, and the key had been destroyed. Only two people who really knew what had happened, who were part of it, had survived, and neither of them could open that door ever again. Sean had been forced into the experiments and did not have the knowledge. Dr. Moncroft had the knowledge, but being on death row for the premeditated murder of over one hundred and twenty men, women and children, did not allow access to the tools that were needed.

Sean’s hatred grew even stronger, if that were possible. His life had been stolen from him, completely and irrevocably. He was not allowed to even call his own parents. They knew he was alive and received updates on his health, but nothing that would jeopardize his new identity. All that remained from his prior life was Kate, or rather Jennifer as he now must call her even in the confines of his own bedroom, lest he slip and call her by her real name in public.

The Men in Black were initially adamant about the new identities and rules of contact with people from their prior lives. Over time, however, the Men in Black had relaxed their stance. They had not commented when they caught Jennifer sending emails to her sister via some complicated anonymous email accounts. Jennifer, feeling brazen by the fact that she had outsmarted them, convinced Sean to sneak out and meet Teresa one weekend. This time the Men in Black did make a statement. A simple letter had been left waiting on their kitchen table when they returned. It simply read, Next time you want to meet with your sister, let us know so we can add extra security and monitoring. This is for your safety.

Since then, Sean had met his parents once and had sent a few emails back and forth, but only via the Men in Black--another of their requests. Jennifer did not, however, feel the need to inform them whenever she felt like visiting her sister--figuring, correctly, that her every correspondence, be it email or phone call, was being monitored, and was, therefore, a notice of sorts. Despite the limited contact, Sean was still angry. His life had been stolen, and Dr. Moncroft was to blame.

Dr. Moncroft had been on death row for almost a year and was still using his constitutional right to appeal. The case against him was definitive, leaving no room for doubt, and Dr. Moncroft had never denied the allegations. His appeal had been on religious grounds. He would agree to die if the government would agree to the method.

He demanded to be in deep REM, rapid eye movement, sleep when his body died. His stance was that if he died in that state, his soul would be allowed to travel to Heaven, Sean was betting on Hell, and that any other state of consciousness would bind his soul to his body, and thus his soul would die with it--an unacceptable state based on his religious faith.

It did not matter that no existing religion matched his beliefs. He was not a follower and had no followers of his own. This belief was between his god and himself, and that was enough for the courts to give pause.

The government could not agree to such stipulations. They had a process for carrying out punishment of death, and any deviation from said plans would require an amendment to the law, which no politician in his right mind would even consider, especially during an election year.

For two years the courts have been arguing the case, and there was still no resolution. Friends and families of the dead, Sean for that matter, deserved, no demanded that swift punishment be dispensed. Justice, closure, whatever they wanted to call it, had not been delivered. Even Lady Justice held her head in shame.

Sean did not even glance at the clock because he knew he would not sleep again tonight. His anger spent silently cursing the man--he got up and started the shower. Morning did not officially begin until he had showered and had a cup of coffee, so before stepping into the shower, he started the coffee pot.

Toweling off after a long, hot shower, Sean glanced at his body in the foggy mirror, the condensation making it appear more rounded that it actually was. He wiped the mirror down and took a closer look. Though he had never been an athlete, his body had always been well defined. The last two years had done some damage, but all in all, his body was in pretty good shape for a twenty-four year old computer geek.

His face however was ten years older than the rest of his body. Cosmetic surgery had given him wrinkles around the eyes, a crowned nose and a prominent chin. Sean felt the chin looked weak, but Jennifer thought otherwise. He had finally been allowed to let his hair grow back to its original color, a dirty brown color that was cropped close. Staring at his eyes, forehead and hair, he could no longer pass as Val Kilmer’s younger brother. The surgery had given him a Gaelic appearance to match his new last name, Elliot.

The shades of gray in his hair and the slight wrinkles around his mouth were not the result of a scalpel however. The stress of all that had happened had done its job on him, but at least had spared Jennifer.

She had been allowed to keep her hair color, but given a new hairstyle. The long blonde hair was now a short, jagged bob which was longer in the front, the back cut in a wedge that ended in a shaved neckline, with a long grey-white streak hanging seductively in front of her eyes. She had been forced into wearing extreme amounts of makeup compared to her previous self, though now she was almost addicted to it. The only cosmetic surgery performed was to give her fuller lips, which Sean secretly adored for reasons he was not even sure of himself.

Smiling as he pictured her face, he combed back his hair so that it would dry in place and walked back to dress, stopping to pour a cup of coffee along the way. With nothing else to do at three in the morning, he opened the door a crack and found what he was looking for.

He opened the newspaper and sat down with his coffee. An information junkie, he read as much as he could get his hands on. It did not matter the subject, he would read every article, essay and advertisement.

Weighing the paper in his hand and glancing at the time, he knew the paper would not last long enough--not even long enough to keep his attention until the breakfast buffet started at six. His iPad could pull down almost every newspaper in the world, but there was nothing like holding the paper in his hand--especially the local paper of wherever he was traveling. Sighing, he opened the paper.

The reason for the trip was to meet with account managers at Texas Instruments (TI), which he had done yesterday morning. The previous day’s meeting had gone well, but there was still some negotiating to be done. He had only been given an hour, and though the hour was enough for him to do his pitch, they had asked too many questions to complete the deal yesterday. At least the questions were encouraging, showing they really understood his business.

Contrary to popular belief, he believed that a person could over-prepare, which often led the person down a fixed plan of action in which even the slightest deviation would wreak chaos. Sean had studied all pertinent data concerning the task at hand and made a fairly detailed plan of attack, but knew that the plan would change as the discussions progressed, and he was correct in his assumption. The proposal as it stood now was far removed from what either side had foreseen, but a good plan nonetheless--a true win-win situation.

Sean might have been able to get the upper hand, but he also knew the best contract was one in which all parties involved got what they wanted. Sure he might save a buck or two using another approach, but what would happen if a problem occurred during production. Would TI be keen on working hard to resolve a problem on a product on which they were making peanuts? He knew exactly what would happen because that was why he was here to begin with.

Another vendor was producing his boards, and doing it cheaper than anyone else, but they were having quality issues that consumed all the cost savings and was cutting deep into the profit margins now. The best solution was to find a new vendor that could produce quality products at reasonable prices. TI was known for its quality. Sean was just working to get a reasonable price.

He had never suspected that he had what it took to be a good negotiator. His life as a computer geek rarely allowed for interaction with people outside the confines of electrons shooting across the Internet. But from his first confrontation with ‘them’, the ones that ran his life for a while, his abilities had blossomed.

Sean and Jennifer had created a blueprint of what they wanted from life, and Sean made sure that they were allowed to go for it. Computers had always given them a sense of freedom. The thought of a nine-to-five job, where someone else told them what to do, literally scared them. Therefore, they devised a plan, and so far they were following it.

They wanted to start their own business--the dreams of graduate work at MIT long forgotten. They had both reevaluated what they wanted from life. Sean had almost died, giving him a new perspective on life. Jennifer had almost lost someone she loved. As a result, they had both decided that college did not matter as much as being with someone you loved, and six months later, they had been married.

Sean was into artificial intelligence, AI. Jennifer enjoyed computer simulation type applications, which could be accomplished by many different methods, but was a particularly good fit for AI. Together they planned to build a small company producing intelligent alarm systems for small business and residential clients. The problem was funding, and this is where Sean’s personality evolved. Sean confronted ‘them’ during one of his check-ups.

Every two months, Sean was taken to a location and ‘tested’ to make sure he was not regressing. The tests involved an abundance of questions and an unknown amount of hypnosis. He had been saved from Dr. Moncroft, who secretly experimented with unwilling subjects, only to be placed in the auspicious care of a government agency which promised to keep him safe and only experiment on him six times a year, or at least that’s how Sean saw the check-ups.

After explaining what he wanted to several different people, he was finally introduced to someone who could make it happen. The seed money they needed to start their own company arrived as an inheritance from a long lost relative in England, which made it nearly impossible to trace to its real origins when taxes were filed. After taxes, the sum of one hundred thousand dollars was at their disposal--and more was available since the government printed what it needed. And keeping to their end of the bargain, Sean and Jennifer did not sell their story to the press.

It