Sign of the Fifth Dimension (a Wandering Koala tale) Sample

“How did you do on Mr. Franklin’s Biology test today, Di?” Karen asked from the other end of the line.

“Terrible.” Diantha rolled onto her side and twisted a clump of hair around her finger. “I don’t understand why we have to study cell division. Who cares what the different stages are? My cells divide just fine without me knowing them. Plus, I’m going to be a rock star, and rock stars never use science.” She looked up at a poster of her favorite girl band above her bed and smiled. One day that would be her.

“I saw Boyd looking at you today at lunch.”

“Was he?” Diantha sat up and straightened her nightgown. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Hadn’t noticed? How could you not have noticed? He wasn’t being subtle about it at all.”

“Wasn’t he?”

“Di, he’s captain of the basketball team and soooo cute! If he had been looking my way, you can be certain I would have noticed, and I would have noticed him back.”

“Hmmm.” She looked out the window at a tree leaning in front of it.

“Did you really not notice, Di, or are you just being coy and playing hard to get?”

“I am hard to get. Basketball Boyd isn’t the only suitor vying for my attention.” She flipped her hair back over her shoulder.

“Di!” Karen squealed. “Have you been holding out on me? Who is he? What does he look like? Do I know him?”

She stood up, walked regally over to her vanity, and sat down. “A lady never kisses and tells.”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!” Diantha had to hold the phone away from her ear. “Diantha, darling, stop keeping secrets! Tell me everything about him, and don’t leave out any juicy details.”

Diantha set her phone down next to her makeup and hit speakerphone. She flipped the switch to light the bulbs framing the mirror. She picked up her favorite brush and ran it thru her coarse, dark hair.

“Well? I’m waiting. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

Diantha looked in the mirror. A man ten-years her elder appeared behind her reflection. She smiled as she saw him put his hands on her reflection’s shoulders. She reached across her chest and rested her hand on an empty shoulder. She smiled even more to see her reflection’s hand rest on his hand even though she felt nothing but a cotton nightgown.

“Do you remember that guy I told you about? The one I thought was following me?”

“The stalker?” Pause. “No. No! You are NOT going out with your stalker? Please tell me you have more sense than that.”

“He is not a stalker.” She gazed into his eyes in the mirror. “He was just shy and admiring me from afar.”

“Well keep him afar. You don’t realize how dangerous those creeps can be. I was watching this show on TV about this woman -- a grown woman with her own house -- who was being stalked by this weird guy from the grocery store. The grocery store! Who’d expect trouble to follow you home from the grocery store? She didn’t take it seriously at first until one night he broke into her house and killed her dead. Right there in her own home while she was watching TV!”

“Karen, that isn’t going to happen to me. Phillip isn’t some crazed lunatic from the grocery store. He’s sweet.”

“What’s Phillips’ last name?”

“Seas.” She thought heard typing. “Why?”

“I’m seeing if he’s a serial killer or a registered offender.”

“Karen Elizabeth Shaw! You stop typing this instant! You are NOT going to run a background check on my boyfriend.”

“It’s not an actual background check, just a Google search.”

“Same difference.”

“Fine.”

“I still hear typing.”

“I just want to see what he looks like.”

“Karen!!”

“Well, no one dangerous is popping up. I’m getting a lot of results for old men . . . and a guy our age that died ten years ago. How old did you say he was again?”

“I didn’t and I’m not.”

“Where’s he from again?”

“Karen! Enough!” She slammed the brush down causing the other objects on the vanity to bounce slightly. She stood up and marched over to her closet.

“How long have you been dating your stalker?”

“How many times do I have to tell you: he is NOT a stalker.” She looked up at a poster of her favorite boy band and giggled when Phillip appeared behind the drums. He picked up the drumsticks and started plying the snare without making a sound. Diantha put her hand up to the poster. “He’s sweet.” He put down the drumsticks and came forward pulling his hand up to hers. “He cares about me.”

“What does he look like? Any prison tattoos?”

“No, he doesn’t have any prison tattoos. He has the most beautiful blue eyes, a perfect smile, and his hands are so big and strong. I feel so safe when -- ”

“Oh my gosh! He’s there right now, isn’t he? I’m going to call the police!”

“Karen, if you call the police, I swear I will never speak to you again. I mean it.”

“If I don’t call the police, you won’t be able to speak to me again, because you’ll be dead!”

Diantha pressed the off button with the weight of her entire upper body, then sent the phone sailing across the room. It dented the far wall and landed in two pieces on the pink carpet. “Arrrrrrghhhh!” She marched over to her bed, dropped onto her side, curled her legs up, and buried her head in her knees.

“Diantha?”

She looked up at her radio.

“Diantha.”

Her scowl melted into a smile.

“It’s ok. No one can keep us apart.” The voice faded into static on the last word. Diantha leapt to her feet and scuttled across the room to her dresser. She fiddled with the knob until the static was replaced by his voice.

“Oh, Phillip. I’m so scared. Karen is calling the police, and they’ll be here soon, and they’ll drag us apart.”

“They can’t stop us from being together. I’ve got a plan. Here’s what you need to do.”

Ten minutes later Diantha’s parents were startled awake by a knock at the door. Her father looked over at her mother who looked up from a reality show and gave him a concerned look. “It’s awfully late for visitors.”

He rubbed his eyes. “So I wasn’t dreaming? There really was a knock at the door?”

KNOCK. KNOCK.

“Better see who it is.”

He got up and sauntered over to the door.

“Look out the peek hole first. No respectable person would be out this late.”

He did as he was instructed and saw a badge. “It’s the police.”

“The police! Oh dear! You don’t think they’re here about the -- ”

“Hush. Let them do the accusing. No point in making their jobs any easier.” He adjusted his glasses, and then opened the door. “Can I help you, officers?” He subconsciously stroked the thin hairs that arched over his bald spot.

Karen pushed her way thru the two cops. “Hurry! Her room’s straight up these stairs.” She took them two at a time.

“Karen?” The mother’s face scrunched up. She kicked the footrest of her easy chair down twice before it locked into place. “What are you doing here?” She struggled up to her feet.

Karen spun around halfway up the stairs. “Diantha’s in trouble. We’ve got to save her!”

“What?” The dad charged up the stairs bolting past Karen.

The mom turned to the cops with a concerned look. The senior officer spoke first, “Ma’am, we received a call tonight at 9:15 pm from a Miss Karen Shaw claiming she had just gotten off the phone with your daughter who was being held hostage by a stalker in her bedroom.”

“Oh, dear! And with my husband and I just down the stairs. You’d better come in, officer. And your partner, too. But wipe your feet first. I just had this carpet shampooed a month ago, and I have no intention of doing it again this year. We’re on a fixed income, you know. Do you have any idea how much they charge to clean your carpet these days?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t.”

“It’s criminal! Maybe I should give you the address of the company that did it, and you can go over there and arrest them. Why, I remember the first time I had my carpet cleaned, it only cost me -- ”

“Ma’am, I think we should head up to your daughter’s room and make sure she’s ok first.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” They followed the other two up the stairs.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

“Diantha, honey? Are you all right in there?” Her father heard soft footsteps come to the door, saw the doorknob fiddle, and relaxed when he saw his daughter’s smiling face.

“I’m fine, daddy. Why wouldn’t I be?” She shot a smug look at Karen.

“Is there anyone else with you in your room right now?”

“Of course not, daddy. I know better than to have people in my room this late at night.”

Karen charged past the father and nearly knocked her friend down. She stormed around the room flipping up the comforter, sliding the chair out from under the vanity, and opening the closet door. She spun around. “Where is he? I know he’s here.”

“Where’s who?”

“Don’t try sounding so innocent, Di. You know who. Now where is he?” Her eyes darted back and forth across the room. “Window! I’ll bet he went out the window.” She dashed over and tried to open it.

“It’s locked. And besides, we’re on the second floor.” She walked over to her chair, sat down, and rested clasped hands on crossed knees.

The mother and officers entered the room. They saw Karen tugging at the locked window. “Karen, honey, are you all right?” No response. “Have you tried unlocking the window first?”

She spun around and pointed at her best friend. “I’m fine. It’s Diantha you should be worried about. She’s the one hiding a stalker in her room.”

“Is that true, dear?” her mother asked. “Are you hiding a stalker in your room?”

“Do you see a stalker in my room? Did you or dad see anyone come up here?”

The officer turned to Karen. “Did Diantha actually tell you she had someone in her room?”

“Not directly, but I knew he was here.”

“Did you hear his voice?”

“No.”

The father rubbed his bald spot again. “Then how do you know he was here?”

“I just do, ok. Some things a best friend just knows.”

The father turned to the police. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here for nothing, officers. Can my wife get either of you a slice of pie or something to drink?”

“We’re fine, sir, but thank you for the offer. We’re just glad to see that your daughter is safe.”

The adults left the room. Karen waited until she heard the front door close. Then she spun around and stared at her smug-faced friend. “You may have fooled your parents, and you may have fooled the police, but you haven’t fooled me. I know he was in here. He may even still be here somewhere hiding.”

Diantha had to turn her head to hide a smile. Behind her friend’s head in the boy band poster, Phillip was pulling a face.

“You might be laughing now, Di, but you won’t after he hurts you.”

“I’ve already told you K, he isn’t going to hurt me.” She turned to stare into her vanity. She saw the reflection her ‘sweet 16’ picture with Phillip hugging her. She smiled. “He cares too much about me.”

Karen opened her mouth to speak, but closed it, realizing it was no use. She turned around and headed out the door, pausing in the frame to say, “I’m only doing all this, because I’m your best friend, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Well, I don’t want to see you hurt either, so here’s some friendly advice: don’t make anymore prank calls to the police; they frown on those.”

Karen left and didn’t see Diantha much the next few weeks. Every time she tried calling, it went straight to voicemail. She never seemed to bump into her between classes even though they shared a locker. And she wasn’t around for lunch. Karen knew she wasn’t skipping meals, so she decided to follow her. But this time she wouldn’t be left with just her word against her best friend’s. No, this time she would get evidence on video.

“Day one: I’m following Diantha to the park, expecting to see her meet up with her stalker. She seems to be fascinated by the posters on the newsstand. Going in for a closer look.

“She’s laughing at . . . an advertisement for laundry soap? I’ve got to move in even closer to see what’s so funny. It’s a big risk; I may be seen. Fortunately the subject seems to be very distracted.

“All right, I’m within ten feet. Now to see what is so funny about that poster.”

She held the camera up high to peer over Diantha’s shoulder. She nearly dropped it when she saw what her friend was laughing at: a figure in the poster was moving! She had to slap her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. She held up the phone again and watched the figure’s mouth move and his hands gesture as if he were actually talking to someone. Then he disappeared. Diantha looked around. There, on the magazine cover, the figure had reappeared next to the prime minister of England!

“I must be dreaming all of this; it can’t be real.” She watched her friend walk over to a park bench and sit down. The real estate agent on the back of the bench was soon joined by the mysterious figure. Karen filmed a few more minutes of this, but the shock of it was getting to be too much. She pinched herself. “Oww! I’m not dreaming. Maybe I’m hallucinating. Maybe there was something in my Raisin Bran this morning that shouldn’t have been there. There’s no way I just saw what I thought I saw. I know! I’ll watch the video back. If I am just imagining it, then the figure won’t be in the recording.”

But it was. She hadn’t imagined anything. It had actually happened.

“Di, what have you gotten yourself into?”

She followed her again the next day to the movies. The stalker popped in and out of movie poster after movie poster as Diantha passed them. He even appeared on the screen during the movie. The rest of the audience must have thought it was part of the film.

After the movie, they went to a restaurant. She saw him appear in the drawing on the front of the menu and in pictures hung around the room.

Later she saw her friend Eskimo kissing the bus station sign. But this time, she wasn’t the only witness.

A tabloid photographer was in town following the latest media darling to a secret rendezvous with a man who wasn’t her husband. But when the photographer got careless and stepped on a cat’s tail, the howl turned the query’s head, and, to his disappointment, he discovered that she was just an ordinary soul who happened to look like the starlet. He snapped a picture anyway knowing the lab boys could do wonders with Photoshop.

His assignment complete, he was on his way to the bus stop to leave that burg behind when he noticed one girl staring at another girl who was getting up close and personal with a bus sign. Not one to let an opportunity slip thru his fingers, he pulled out his camera and started filling up that memory card.

“What are you doing?!” Diantha’s face distorted into an expression of horror. She threw her hands up and turned around trying to bury her face in the pole. Phillip got mad and shook his fist at the photographer who dropped his camera and his jaw.

“That sign is alive. That sign is ALIVE! It must be haunted. You, little girl that was making out with the sign, are you dating that ghost?”

She started to cry. Karen ran over to the tabloid photographer and started whacking him. “You get away from her!”

He shielded his face and smiled. Then he noticed something in her hand. “Hey, does that phone have a camera?” He yanked it out of her hands and played back the most recent footage while fending off an onslaught of weak slugs. “Oh, this is beautiful! Do you have any idea how much I’ll be able to get for this?”

“Give me that back!”

The bus conveniently (or inconveniently, depending on your perspective) chose that moment to pull up. “Sorry, kid, but this video’s going to pay my rent for the next year!” He jumped on it. Karen tried to follow him.

“Ticket, please.”

“I don’t have a ticket.”

“Then you can’t get on this bus.”

“But I have to. He has my phone!”

“Sorry, but you’ll need to buy a ticket first.”

“How much is a ticket?”

“Sorry. We’re all sold out.”

Karen walked away disheartened and frustrated. She saw her friend still hugging the pole in tears. She walked over and held her tightly. “It’ll be all right.”

Diantha sniffled and wiped the tears streaming down her cheek.

The next day pictures of the “supernatural make out” (as the media were so cleverly calling it) appeared on the front page of every tabloid. The video had also been posted online and gone viral. Several mainstream news shows had picked up the story and asked their viewers if they thought it was real or an elaborate hoax. And if it were real, did that prove the existence of a world beyond?

The tabloid photographer had become an instant celebrity. Every talk show had him scheduled for that week.

“You realize that taking pictures for a tabloid doesn’t make you a very credible witness.” Kevin Numberson, the host of a popular late night show, said.

“That’s why I had the footage analyzed by two lab. Both have verified the pictures and video are authentic and unmodified,” the reporter retorted.

“We sent the footage to our own lab for an unbiased assessment, and they came to the same conclusion. So, what do you think this means? Are religions right about there being an ‘other side’ where the deceased go, or could this be a window into another dimension like scientists have speculated?”

“I’m just a reporter. I only report the facts. I don’t try to interpret them. I’ve had dozens of people on both sides try to get me to come out in favor of their position -- some have even offered me money -- but I stand on my principles.”

“Really? A tabloid reporter standing on his principles?” Numberson had to turn his head for a moment.

“Yes, sir.”

“Are these the same principles that led you to steal a camera phone from a little girl, or the ones that said it was ok to exploit a minor for a story?”

The reporter turned red. Numberson smiled.

©2010 Jeff Thomason