Out Of Time (Mindwarp Book 9) by Chris Archer

Author:Chris Archer [Archer, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Publisher: Alloy Entertainment
Published: 2017-04-03T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

ASHLEY

“Pay dirt!” Jack announced, holding the cordless phone over his head like a tomahawk.

“Give me a break,” I muttered. This was the fourth time Jack had claimed to have hit “pay dirt.” The first time had been a skateboarding company in New York City. The second time was a wrestling hot line in Butte, Montana. And the third number was, let’s just say, not intended for anyone under twenty-one.

Now we were down to half a bag of potato chips, and we still had to try the number—JL5-1945—in twenty-six more area codes in the United States. Then it was time to start on the international calls.

“No, I mean it,” he said, shoving the phone under my nose and hitting redial. “Check it out.”

“Jack, I don’t want to hear any more of your disgusting—wait a second!” I grew excited as I listened to the answering machine message. “Hello,” the man’s voice said, “you’ve reached Professor Mason Krieger in the science department of Madison University. I’m sorry I’m not here to take your call right now—” “This is the real thing!” I told Jack. “Mason Krieger. We’ve solved the puzzle!”

“Told ya,” he said smugly.

Just then a live human voice picked up on the other end of the line. “Hello?” it said. “Hello?”

I covered the mouthpiece. “He’s there!” I whispered.

“So?” Jack answered. “Why are you telling me? Talk to the guy!”

“What do I tell him?” I asked, panicking.

“How should I know?” Jack retorted. “Tell him you want to enroll in his classes. Tell him you’re his long lost daughter. Tell him anything.”

“Hello? Is anyone there?” came the voice through the phone.

I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, professor,” I started, “I know this is going to sound a little strange, but, um, I have a problem I was hoping you might help me with.” I was shooting for a dignified tone of voice, but I think I came out somewhere closer to desperate.

“Yes?” he replied. “What sort of problem?”

“Well,” I stalled, “since you’re a professor of, uh . . . ”

“Genetics,” he filled in.

“Genetics, right, well, the truth is, I have this sort of question about genetics—”

“Certainly. What’s the question?”

I looked at Jack. He shrugged, which was not particularly helpful.

“Hello?” came the professor’s voice again. “Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here,” I said wearily. “You wouldn’t happen to believe I’m your long lost daughter, would you?”

“Young lady, is this some kind of prank?”

“No! No. Honest. It’s just . . . ” Then I got an idea. “A friend and I are writing this paper on famous genetics professors in Wisconsin, and I was hoping that maybe we could interview you.”

“Oh, my,” he said. “I hate to disappoint you, young lady, but I’m afraid that not only am I incredibly nonfamous, but after tonight I’ll no longer be in Wisconsin.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“It’s just that I’m leaving tonight for Washington, D.C.,” he replied.

“Oh,” I said, crestfallen. “When are you getting back?”

“That’s just the thing,” he replied. “I’m not coming back. I’m moving to our nation’s capital to begin a new job.

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