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  Table of Contents

  The Gates: The Arrival

  The Gates: The Arrival

  Max Wyatt

  Chapter One

  Harper

  Day One 11:43AM

  “Well, it’s not like it’s the end of the world, is it?”

  Harper Gentry made a face while playing with her straw, swirling the iced tea in slow circles until the ice rattled against the glass. “The problem is, Tara, that you always make everything look so…easy.”

  “Start with a budget. You can get an app for your phone for it even. So much on rent, groceries…you know. Some of them even do the tracking for you.” Tara Lewis shook her head in amusement. “You’re not the first one to overspend a little.”

  “It wasn’t a little.” Harper’s face was as red as Tara’s hair. “I er…misplaced…about um…$323. Somewhere.” It wasn’t an easy thing to admit, especially to the hyper-organized Tara. But somehow after having exhausted all the usual gossip about mutual friends the conversation had meandered from the latest TV shows to…this. Harper wasn’t even sure how they’d gotten here, but if she could go back in time she’d undo whatever she’d said that led down this thorny path.

  Tara’s eyebrows shot up, but best friend that she was, she refrained from comment, a fact that Harper greatly appreciated. But then, wasn’t this part of why they’d become friends in the first place? Tara didn’t judge.

  “So I take it lunch is on me?” she asked finally.

  Harper followed her eye to the remains of their lunch. Maybe she’d over-ordered a little bit, having had the soup and salad combo, then adding in a sandwich… because she was hungry. That whole mess with her debit card had left her a little short for groceries and she’d been living off ramen and peanut butter crackers for the last week. With a somewhat sheepish grin, she met Tara’s eyes. “Hopefully?”

  “Girl, you’ve got to get a budget going. Here, let me see that.”

  Tara pried Harper’s phone out of her hands, and started swiping at the screen with the expertise of someone who understood technology far better than Harper did. “No password? You have got to get with this century. People steal these, you know. Here…” Her finger tapped furtively at the screen like a nervous bird demanding feed. To Harper’s surprise, the little plastic traitor, so unhelpful and sullen at the best of times, slavishly did everything Tara tapped it to do and waited eagerly for more.

  She tapped a few more times, and leaned over the table, holding the phone so Harper could see. “This app here…it’s one I use. You just link this into your bank account…huh…when is the last time you updated the OS? You’re not loading…”

  “OS?”

  Tara never spoke plain English. She tended to forget that not everyone grew up on a steady diet of Babylon 5 and Star Trek, though she’d certainly endured more than her fair share of marathons in their college years. Ok, the Deep Space Nine guy was kinda cute…

  “Operating System. Everything is taking forever to load. Anyway, run an update then link your bank accounts and voilà, you’re all set up. This app will keep track of things for you. You can even set budget goals so you know how much you spend on food, for example.” Harper flinched from the rather pointed look Tara gave her. “Just take it easy, huh? How long have you been living on your own now? Two months?”

  “Three. You sure you don’t want a roommate? We could take a year…maybe save on expenses and you know…build up some savings.” Harper grinned, trying to be ingratiating.

  “Girl, no offense, but don’t you think college was enough? We about killed each other by the spring semester.”

  “Well, the cosplaying got pretty intense. I didn’t expect you to be practicing with a real sword in a dorm room.”

  “To be fair, I wasn’t expecting you to be staying on campus for the weekend.”

  “You almost took my head off!”

  “I missed!”

  “Only because the sword got stuck in the ceiling tiles.”

  “Good thing you’re short. I wanted the moves to look authentic for the competition!”

  Harper took her phone and tapped at the screen, trying to make sense of the brightly colored boxes and circles. Happy little graphs suddenly populated the display, complete with smiley faces and flowers. “Seriously, Tara? This thing looks like it was designed for third graders.”

  “I thought it gave a nice positive outlook. You know, happiness and celebrations when you meet your saving goals or don’t go over budget. Positive reinforcement and all that.”

  “My gosh.” Harper set her hand on the table, phone trapped in her grasp, “tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you didn’t create this app.”

  It was Tara’s turn to look uneasy. She flushed beneath her freckles and when she looked up at Harper her blue eyes pleaded with Harper. “Look, it’s just something I created because I needed the help too. Living on my own after college, it’s not easy. You think I’ve got it all together, but I don’t. I’m really doing the best I can. And when I messed up, I looked around at the apps out there, and didn’t like any of them. This was…fun.”

  “Fun. You made an app for a smartphone and you call that fun. Wait a second, how many reviews does this thing have…” ignoring Tara’s protests, Harper hunted around the app store, feeling her eyes widen when she saw that not only had the app been reviewed 847 times, but a couple of big magazines had written it up. “Seriously? People have been downloading this thing?”

  “The extra money has kind of helped.”

  “You make apps for fun. This is a new low, even for you, Tara. Do you seriously want to be known as a nerd for the rest of your life?”

  “The physics t-shirt wasn’t a dead giveaway?”

  “That’s physics?” Harper pointed to her friend’s chest.

  Tara gave a long-aggrieved sigh and stood up, pulling her long curls over her shoulder so that Harper could get a good look at the shirt.

  “‘It’s not the Vf=V1+at that kills you, it’s the f=m v/t’?”

  A guy passing by to bus a nearby table paused and burst into laughter. “Dude!” He high-fived Tara and went on his way.

  Harper stared. “My God, there’s more of you.”

  Tara shook her hair over her shoulders and sat down again, with maybe a prouder tilt to her head than before. Harper finally shrugged and went back to her sandwich. “Seriously…I need to take you clothes shopping.”

  “Isn’t that how you got in the hole to begin with?”

  Harper glanced down at the blouse that she’d been so excited to put on an hour ago. She’d bought it special with this kind of lunch in mind. Pretty soft blouses with pastel flowers, paired with tailored pants and the most darling heels…it was an adult outfit for adult lunches. The kind of thing you wore when you were grown-up and responsible and freshly graduated from college.

  But then Tara showed up in t-shirt and jeans, and a pair of battered moccasins Harper remembered from college. Giant gold hoops caught in her hair, which she wore loose and still as wild as ever. Tara was still…Tara. Right down to the monstrously huge tapestry bag she carried that probably held no less than three books and fifteen electronic devices.

  Yet she loved her friend dearly and as opposite as they might seem at first glance, they were both fiercely loyal to the other.

  Harper smiled and tapped idly at her phone when suddenly it blared, a screaming warning that had her almost dropping the device in her thankfully empty soup bowl. It figures; damn thing was just waiting for me to try to use it again. She was tempted to give it to Tara since it preferred her anyway.

  Tara was scanning her own phone. “It’s just one of those emergency alerts. Something about rolling blackouts?”

  Simultaneously, they both turned t
o look outside. They’d been seated kind of far back in the restaurant and the window was under a sort of overhang, making the sky impossible to see. “Were we expecting storms?” Harper asked doubtfully.

  “Already on it…weather app says clear.”

  “It won’t be the first time the weather app has been wrong. Technology isn’t always the answer, Tara.”

  “Bite your tongue!”

  The two women laughed as Tara looked around for their waitress, signaling with a raised hand that she’d like the check.

  The waitress approached, frowning. She looked like a high school kid, blonde hair piled messily on top of her head. “Can I get you something more? Dessert?” She seemed distracted, shooting glances at the front counter, which was empty. For that matter, the entire restaurant had been growing emptier as the morning had progressed. That seemed strange given that they were sitting in the middle of what should have been the prime lunch hour. Yet there were only three other patrons still eating – an elderly couple over by the window and a woman reading a book in the corner while trying to eat a sandwich, with varying degrees of success.

  “Just the check,” Tara said, rummaging in her purse for her wallet, while the girl dug through her apron pocket to come up with a black check holder. She slipped two pieces of paper inside from her folder.

  “Is something wrong?” Harper’s tender heart would get her every time. But to her, every stranger was a friend she hadn’t met yet, and obviously this girl was having a difficult day of some sort. She ignored Tara’s eye roll from across the table and smiled at the waitress helpfully.

  “Oh…no…I mean…well…the computer up front isn’t working right and my boss just took the deposit over to the bank and I’m not sure…” She looked at the folder that already had Tara’s credit card sticking helpfully out over the top edge.

  Harper’s gentle, “We could wait…” was immediately overridden by Tara’s “What seems to be the problem?” Harper bit back a grin. Much as Tara protested Harper’s tendency to befriend those in trouble, Tara own innate need to solve the world’s problems would get her every time. Already Tara was already halfway to the register with the chattering girl. Harper scrambled after them, scooping up her own purse and phone from the table, but also needing to grab Tara’s purse that she’d forgotten in her haste to be of service. Problem solver that she was, she was incredibly absent-minded with her possessions. Truthfully, Harper was of the opinion that Tara preferred to rescue machines over people, but that was an unworthy thought.

  “I think the bank system is down,” Tara was saying as Harper came up with their things. She punched in several codes in rapid succession, but the card reader in her hand only beeped pathetically as if protesting the intrusion. “It’s not your machine.”

  “Great. Just great.” The girl looked uneasily around the room. Harper followed her eyes. The two customers were both finishing their meals. “What are the chances that everyone has cash?”

  “Don’t look at me, I never carry it,” Harper muttered, knowing full well her purse held approximately thirty-seven cents.

  “You don’t have it to carry,” Tara reminded her, taking her purse and setting it on the counter next to her so that she could hunt out stray bills. Sure enough, three books were removed and set next to the napkin dispenser first, then a collection of ball-point pens. One key-ring. A small notebook. Another notebook. Half a pound of junk mail…

  “Why don’t you try your wallet?” Harper asked, as the pile grew and the waitress’s eyes grew rounder with each item that came out of the cavernous bag.

  “I had a couple twenties that I just flung in here the other day. I was rushed, and it was part of my change when I was out shopping…”

  Harper and the waitress exchanged glances that involved a lot of raised eyebrows. Twenties as change implied bigger bills being spent. “Where were you shopping with hundred dollar bills?”

  “Memaw sent me cash for my birthday. You know she doesn’t trust bank cards. I keep telling her a gift card is much safer but you know Memaw… Here. Found it!”

  The waitress took on an expression of relief as she took the bills and made change. “I really am sorry about the inconvenience…”

  “What inconvenience?”

  Tara really had no clue, Harper realized, as she stared at the mound of stuff on the counter that had escalated to include a bottle of hand sanitizer, an iPad, a hairbrush, a socket wrench and one lizard.

  Lizard?

  “Tara, is there some reason you’re carrying a stuffed lizard in your purse?”

  Tara laughed as she swept everything back into her bag. Harper winced as something made a dull clanking sound that made her worry for the iPad, especially in the presence of the wrench. “A friend’s kid left it at my place when I was babysitting last weekend. I keep meaning to drop it off.”

  “Miss? Can you help me? I can’t seem to get on the internet?”

  A look of panic crossed the waitress’s face as she thrust Harper’s change into her hands without counting it and half-jogged across the room to the woman with the book. Harper and Tara looked at each other and turned to go, waiting at the door to admit a rather flustered man with a name tag that identified him as Bill, the manager. Harper glanced back as they went out onto the street and heard as the man called to the waitress at the back of the restaurant, “Roxie! The bank machines are down and they couldn’t even take my deposit. I ask you, what kind of bank can’t take a deposit?”

  Chapter Two

  Harper

  “That’s odd,” Harper murmured as they hit the street. Outside, the air was positively oppressive, high heat coupled with high humidity that left the hair sticking to the back of her neck within minutes. But the sky overhead was blue, without a cloud in it.

  “What’s odd?” Tara was tapping at her phone and frowning.

  “The manager at the restaurant. I heard him say he couldn’t make his deposit at the bank either.”

  “It’s probably all the same system. Some banks offer credit card readers. Things go down all the time.”

  “Did you make an app for that?” Harper teased. “I guess. Oooh…isn’t that sweater adorable?”

  They stopped walking in front of a small boutique sandwiched between a coffee shop and a place specializing in teas. The window was wide enough for only a single mannequin, wearing a rust-colored sweater with orange undertones, which stood out against the fall display that featured a predominance of falling yellow leaves.

  “I think that’s the same color as my hair…” Tara tried to see her hair and the sweater in the same glance.

  “I think I’m in love!”

  “With my hair?”

  “No silly…that sweater.” Harper was already halfway through the door into the store.

  “It’s 90 out and you’re looking at sweaters? This is more than just an obsession with you.”

  “Fall is coming. C’mon, let’s see if they have something in that darling green you look so good in.”

  “It’s barely August,” Tara muttered but followed her anyway. “You might need professional help…”

  Truth be told, Harper wasn’t really all that interested in the sweater. She’d been fighting an uneasy feeling since they’d left the restaurant and the street had felt awkward, exposed. They’d picked the restaurant simply because it had been located in the middle of the newly revitalized main street of Williamsport, a town a good dozen miles from where either of them lived and worked. They’d been promising themselves an afternoon of exploring the boutiques and antique shops. Okay, maybe Harper was the one who’d had that particular dream, just because it had all felt so grown-up and chic. Still, Tara could have given a little on that, allowed for some of what Harper called fun. She couldn’t see herself sitting and watching Tara writing code for an afternoon. Harper hadn’t missed that eye roll Tara had walking into the shop.

  Yet the streets were nearly empty, the shops having kind of that dreary feel of trying too hard to be cute�
��even this place with the overdone nautical theme that included three pilings in right in the middle of the store, two holding stacks of folded sweaters, the third a stuffed pelican. Which was a stupid choice because it gave you the feeling that rotting fish might be lurking somewhere.

  Seagulls. They should have used seagulls.

  The sweaters were overpriced, the store stuffy and hot. The bell that jangled when they came in seemed muted in the heavy air. It had the feeling of a shore-side horror movie, something Hitchcock might have pulled off. Harper took another glance at the pelican.

  If she had felt vulnerable outside on the empty street, she felt downright trapped in here. Come to think of it, this is how it would feel to wear a sweater in 90 degree heat.

  “I’m sorry ladies, the power is out. We’re going to have to close.” The clerk that met them as they came in was harsh, unsympathetic in her tone. Her expression made Harper wonder if she’d found the dead fish left by the pelican. She felt like they were being given the bum’s rush as they were escorted out and deposited safely on the sidewalk. The door shut firmly behind them, with the sound of a bolt being thrown home for good measure. Was it possible to turn a deadlock with self-righteous indignation?

  “Ever feel unwanted?” Harper asked Tara, who was standing with a stupefied expression that she suspected mirrored her own.

  Except Tara wasn’t paying attention to the door or the gorgon on the other side of it. She had her nose buried in her cell phone. Again.

  “Hey…I’m right here! Girl’s day out, remember?”

  “Wait…just give me a second.” Tara actually put a hand up. It lingered there while she probed the phone with one thumb. Harper was sure she was able to do more with that thumb and a cell phone than Harper ever would with a bank of computers and six hands.

  “Am I actually talking to your hand?” Harper waited, arms crossed, eyeing the near empty street, nothing that other businesses were shutting up, placing handmade signs in the windows explaining closure due to power failure. A young woman with long black hair that reached nearly to her waist came out of the tea shop. Bells tinkled on the edges of her long Indian print skirt, echoing the deeper tones of the ones that jangled at her waist, cinching in her billowing cream shirt.