Primal Duality

Primal Duality

A Quantum Duality Book

Byron A. Wells

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2014

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 978-1493779512

Cover Image © luxora1 - Fotolia.com

Author Photo by Valdas Dambrauskas

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Epilogue

Amalgam

About the Author

Acknowledgements

As with any book acknowledgements must come first. This book started out as simply Duality; yet because of the large number of books with that name the decision was made to expand the title. My original thought was Quantum Duality (used as an adjective to mean sudden or significant yet it was thought that it might be too cerebral. After much debate we settled on Primal Duality and it is my hope that you enjoy this book.

Thanks to my family for their patience (there were some evenings where this patience was lacking) while I was writing, edit and generally attempting to finish this book. Thanks to Raimonda, Natalie and Danielle for reading and commenting on the story progression.

Thanks to my friends at Goodreads for reading with the story flow and continuity in mind; and finally thanks to you the reader for taking the time to read this book.

I have included links at the end of the book where you can follow me on Goodreads, Facebook and Twitter. If you find any errors in the manuscript I ask that you help me by submitting them through my Facebook page. This will allow me to correct the book and make it better.

Byron Wells

Prologue

The man remembered the day well for it was unlike any day prior; the lights blaze before his eyes as he remembers, they swirl with bursts of colors in a kaleidoscope motion: red, blue, yellow, green – on and on they flash in their endless dance. He remembers them well for it was on that day that he died.

Is there relation between those lights and his death?

He has to know; he has to understand the link between them if one exists.

It is with dawning realization that he understands; the more he tries to remember what happened on that day the more the lights distracted him from learning the answers to his questions:

How did he die?

Why is he still aware?

What is going on?

A face flashes across his vision; it is a face that he should know – it is a face that he has seen for years on end.

He realizes that the face he sees is his own – yet it isn’t. The face almost appears as it should. The hair is the same dark wavy brown as his, tapering just before it reaches his collar. It’s his strong jaw with the same, slight goatee that he keeps well-trimmed; the lips, ears, nose…all his.

Yet there is something different – it’s the eyes the strike him as peculiar; it is the eyes that are alien. As he stares into those eyes a shudder courses through his body; staring into those eyes is like staring into the abyss with its layer upon layers of darkness. It is like staring into the eyes of pure evil.

The flashing starts again – green, white, cobalt – forcing him to lose the tenacious threads of remembrance that he has been following…

With a great strength of will he wrenches his mind back to the memory of that face; the face which is his but isn’t. What could have transformed his face so drastically?

Another memory floods his consciousness. It is dark – correction, it is nighttime, not just dark. It is the night on which he died. He remembers being followed and of being frightened by whatever is tracking him; his only reaction is that he must flee. With an effort he is able to shed the lethargy that has rooted him in place and starts running for his life. It is a dark road on which he finds himself running.

Flashback – his car has broken down. He checks the engine and concludes that there is nothing he can do. He has a choice: he can either head back to the gas station he passed a few kilometers back, or he can leave his car and walk home – he decides to walk home.

He checks his cell phone as he walks with the same result each time – no reception. Looking behind him there is nothing to be seen; however, a wave of fear washes over him, threatening to incapacitate him once more.

The flashing starts again – red, viridian, silver…

Each time this happens it becomes harder to bring the dream back into focus – it requires an effort to think and remember.

Flash forward – he is running down the road – running for his life. Each step becomes labored as he finds it harder and harder to breathe; he clutches his side as an intense pain forces him to a walk; each step forward is agony.

He stops in mid-stride as a women steps into his path. She is the most beautiful woman that he has ever seen. His mind is incapacitated; he doesn’t stop to consider where she came from, or why she is here in the middle of nowhere – instead he is mesmerized by her beauty.

She is a goddess; an angel with golden tresses falling to the small of her back in shimmering waves which sway in the light breeze. Her slight frame is covered with a diaphanous gown flowing to just above her ankles. The gown swirls with every move she makes. Beneath the gown every curve of her exceptional figure is sensually revealed – the soft curves of her breasts, the hourglass shape of her waist. He averts his eyes from the perfection of her body and gazes down to her feet as his cheeks redden from the heat of his blush.

Her feet are perfectly formed – yet they are bare. Fleetingly he wonders why it is that she has no shoes.

She calls his name – how can she know his name?

He lifts his eyes and looks full into her face – terror courses through him with that look. Her eyes are ice blue eyes; they are eyes full of evil – it is the same evil which he remembers from the glimpse of his face.

The flashing starts yet again, pushing his memories down into the murky depths of forgetfulness – green, blue, red, Red, RED!

After the flashing stops he finds it easier to remember – he is not sure why that would be but it is. This memory is one that will forever be etched in his mind – it is the memory of his death.

Suddenly the woman is directly in front of him, her body pressing against his. Instead of feeling the expected warmth of her body he feels chilled to the bone. She brushes her lips against his cheek, gently caressing the back of his neck – ecstasy courses through him with each caress; then the surge of fear courses through him yet again. This woman is the source of this fear.

Next she is biting his neck; strangely the sensation is one of intense pleasure mixed with the feeling of his life draining away. The last thing he remembers before he dies is the woman slicing her arm with her fingernail and forcing him to drink from the wound – and then he dies.

Though he wishes the dream ended there it doesn’t – the memories continue...

The ripping is intense; it feels as though he is being torn in two – then once again he is looking into the reflection of his face; he is gazing into eyes full of evil – he is looking at his doppelganger.

The dream ends as the kaleidoscope stops and he remembers no more – UNTIL, he awakes…

Awakening

Chapter 1

Constable Constance Whitt donned a pair of latex before carefully pulling away the canvas covering the body. The rookie had called her to the scene and when she arrived it was obvious why he had been shaken.

She examined the body with the trained eye of a professional. The first thing she noted was that the black bear was a massive specimen. While unusual, it was not unheard of for bears to wander onto this area of the peninsula. Scarcity of food would cause them to range further and further abroad; more likely in this case it could have been that a younger, stronger alpha was chasing the older, weaker competition out of his territory. Either way, the bear was here – dead.

Constance had to think back to when the last bear sighting was that the OPP had to respond to; it had been two years prior, just after she had transferred to the Southern Georgian Bay division of the Ontario Provincial Police. That bear had been alive and healthy; along with Wildlife Services they had been able to tranquilize the bear and transfer it to a park far to the north – this was a different case altogether.

What could have killed the bear so brutally?

There wasn’t much in the wild that should have been able to take a bear this size down – yet here it was.

The cause of death was easy to determine, its throat had been violently torn open. So why had OPP been contacted? If another animal had killed the bear then there was no reason for the police to be present. Wildlife Services was on location and had deferred the investigation to OPP. Did they think that a human might have done this?

Returning the cover back in place she stood and slowly surveyed the scene. The body had been found by some hikers just off of Concession Road 20 east of Cedar Point Road. there were trees and shrub brush densely packed stretching as far as she could see in every direction; a dirt and gravel road traced its way west to Cedar Point Road. In actuality it wasn’t much of a road; it was simply a pair of tracks running through the forest. As such it made an ideal hiking trail.

She had already reviewed the statements Blake had taken from the hikers before he let them leave; there wasn’t much there. They had been hiking, seen the carrion birds and decided to check what they were fighting over and had found the body. They made a quick call to the OPP and Blake had been dispatched to investigate. Blake had taken their statements and then called Wildlife Services and to her surprise the Coroner – and now here she was…

A cluster of trees had fallen blocking the road about twenty-five meters east of Cedar Point Road, there was no indication of how long the fall had been there but it did mean that Constance had been required to park her cruiser with the other vehicles and hoof it the remainder of the way to the corpse.

From where she stood she couldn’t hear any traffic sounds, not that there was that much traffic this early in the season. The only things north of where she stood was the ferry to Christian Island and Cedar Ridge, a community of private residences which were mostly summer homes. In a month everything would change as the weather turned warmer and all the seasonal residents begin their annual exodus from the city to take advantage of their weekends on Georgian Bay.

Only a few people braved the unpredictable spring weather to open their houses which had been closed for the long winter. Last night had been a perfect example of the seasonal unpredictability; a late spring storm had blown in from the west covering the ground in a deluge of precipitation. It had started as rain which in itself wasn’t bad; it was what had followed that had made the morning travel treacherous. A stiff wind had driven behind the rain causing temperatures to plummet resulting in freezing temperatures. The frigid, driving winds had turned the spring rain to treacherous ice. Just before morning a light snow had fallen to cover the ice with three inches of crystal powder. Ice hung to the trees in every direction giving the landscape an eerie beauty; unfortunately the area surrounding the body was a bog covered with a thin layer of snow; conditions which had effectively erased any traces of evidence that might have remained lingering on the ground.

Constance slowly examined the perimeter; all she could see was the sparkle of the ice on the shrubs bordering the edge of the clearing as the sun peaked through here and there. The ice and snow would be gone by mid-day if they were fortunate but for now it wreaked havoc on their crime scene. Constance cast her gaze over the ground around the body, searching in vain for any tracks that might help determine the identity of the attacker – nothing. Something nagged at the edge of her awareness, a nagging that she had come to trust over her years on the force – something was out of place here.

While the ground might not be able to tell the story of what happened here, the trees and brush had plenty to tell. Broken branches could be seen on most of the trees around the small clearing as well as the remains of the shattered ice that had clung to them – there had clearly been a struggle here.

With more questions unanswered than answered she removed her gloves and walked to join the three people waiting at the edge of the clearing: the rookie, a representative of the Wildlife Service and Sam Philips from the local Coroner’s office.

Sam, Constance greeted the Coroner with a brief nod. Sam had been the coroner in Midland and for the township in general for the past twenty years. He was a short man standing five eight, with a laurel wreath of grey hair encircling his bald head. His brown eyes hid whatever thoughts he might have regarding the body. She accepted Sam’s nod in reply before turning to the other man present.

Tom Grant, He provided before she could ask Wildlife Services.

Any idea what could have done this Tom?

Tom Grant was a medium height, wiry man with grey streaking his thick black hair; close set eyes topped a pug nose and a small mouth. He scratched his head before answering, Well, I think it’s a safe bet that this wasn’t done by any hunter. There’s no evidence of any wound from either a rifle or bow. Also, there’s not much in the wild that would hunt a bear of this size. He paused briefly as he examined the beast, I would think this bear masses close to 180 kilo.

Tom scrunched his face as he contemplated the issue. Constance waited quietly for him to continue. Puma have been known to attack bears at times, but again not one this size.

Could it have been another bear?

It’s possible but not likely in my opinion; also there is something damn peculiar about this carcass. Did you notice?

Notice what?

Why don’t you take another look before I say anything else...

Intrigued, Constance donned a new pair of gloves before moving back to the body and pulling the canvas back. She examined the scene once more, looking for something, anything she might have missed.

With dawning realization she had the answer to what had been nagging her, The body was dumped here?

That was my initial conclusion, but I don’t think so considering the evidence we have of a struggle. Sam pointed to parts of the surrounding brush that she had already examined; brush that was broken and shattered – good indicators of the struggle that had occurred, in my opinion the killing definitely occurred here.

Puzzled, Constance turned to observe the scene once more. If the bear was killed here then where is all the blood? With its throat torn open the ground should have been soaked.

That’s just it – it’s why I deferred this to the OPP and called the coroner’s office. This body has been totally drained; while you can see a few random drops here and there that’s all. There is no animal that I am aware of that could do this to a full grown adult bear. Tom concluded, paling slightly.

Constance lifted the bear’s massive head to better examine the injuries.

The sound of violent vomiting arrested her attention as she turned to see the rookie losing his breakfast in the bush. Constable Blake Moore – rookie. He had recently been attached to the Southern Georgian Bay OPP office in Midland and her Staff Sargent felt that she would be a good mentor – ya right. As a result, Blake was often working with Constance out of the OPP satellite office located in Penetanguishene.

Now here they were at the Rookie’s first crime scene and he up and loses it in the bushes.

She remembered the day he had swaggered into her office at the Penetang station following the Staff Sargent; he was good looking and there was no doubt in her mind that he knew it. He stood six foot, worked out religiously to keep his rock hard body in shape, and worst of all he thought that he was god’s gift to women – he would run his hand through his wavy blond hair, regarding you with his baby blue eyes, and flash his perfect teeth as he smiled.

Over the ensuing weeks Constance had seen woman after woman fall to his looks and end up in his bed. Each one a trophy on his shelf; yet not her – he had tried, and she had roughly rebuked him putting him back in his proper place.

She felt no pity for the rookie, if he couldn’t handle a crime scene then he was in the wrong vocation…movies, now that is the profession he should have followed. He would have done quite well as an actor.

Dismissively she turned back to the corpse. The throat had been violently torn open, jagged edges flapped as she moved the head from side to side. An injury like this should have resulted in blood everywhere, yet there wasn’t any. Rising, she slowly traced another circle around the body with her eyes examining the muddy ground for any signs she might have missed.

Plenty of bear tracks, but that was all. Careful to not disturb the ground any more than they already had, she returned to the waiting men. Sam, I want a fully autopsy done on the body.

I’ll have to get permission…

Then get it, Constance replied sharper than she intended. She continued more gently, I need this Sam, so anything you can do would be great. Maybe you can find something that will help us to identify the predator we’re after.

I’ll do what I can Connie, he answered clearly subdued.

Tom, I’m going to call a tracker friend of mine. I want him to examine the crime scene. Would you be willing to wait for him? Maybe the two of you can find something useful.

I can do that, just give him my number. A card was provided in response.

Blake, she waited a moment to make sure she had the rookie’s attention, I need you to go to the Midland Station and have Sarge issue an advisory.

I can do that from here…

And have anyone with a scanner in a panic…no I need you to go in person. Plus it will give you a chance to clean up.

On my way, Blake replied dejectedly as he made his way to his squad car.

Tasks assigned, Constance retreated to the comfortable safety of her vehicle. She cast her gaze from side to side as she carefully made her way through the brush taking care not to slip on the treacherous footing; she vainly searched for any signs that their assailant had made its way back to the road. She reached the gravel covered track no wiser than she had been in the clearing – it was time to solicit some help.

James Aukaneck was one of the best trackers in the area and also a good friend. She grabbed her cell phone and pressed the speed dial button to call him before turning west to follow the track back to her cruiser.

Hello.

Hey James.

Connie, I was just thinking about you. It’s been awhile, to what do I owe the pleasure?

I need your help with a case.

What do you have? James slipped into his business tone, ready to take all the details.

I have a dead bear and no signs of what killed it. The bear had its throat slashed, but there is almost no blood on the scene. I was hoping you might be able to find something we’ve missed.

Sounds like you have a puzzle on your hands and you know how much I like a good puzzle.

That I do. Tom Grant from the Wildlife Service will be waiting for you at the site. She provided Tom’s cell number and directions to the site.

Alright Connie, I’ll be there within the hour.

Thanks James. Want to grab breakfast tomorrow?

Jay Cee’s?

Of course.

I would love to, nine o’clock?

Perfect, see you then.

See you.

A click ended the call; that completed she pulled out a map of the local area. Fortunately there weren’t many year-round residences in the local area. There were only two communities close enough to be a concern that she might have to warn; to be on the safe side she would cruise both communities and provide a warning to be on the watch for a large, dangerous animal on the loose.

Chapter 2

Wakening happened in stages for Rick Brantford – his body unfolding bit by bit slowly shedding the lethargy that clung to it; an aching radiating through his body. Echoes of the nightmare haunted his morning. To say that he felt like shit would be an understatement. That was one hell of dream…

All things considered, being alive and in pain was much better than being dead. The nightmare had been so vivid. He had died, yet it hadn’t felt like death – not that he would know what death felt like – it had felt as if he had been ripped apart he concluded as he sat up in bed.

The light assaulted his eyes as the morning sun poured through the east facing windows to reflect on the west facing double French doors which led out onto the deck built against the back of his house. He really needed to do something about that; maybe some elegant wood blinds…

He loved the house, nestled as it was on a slight rise overlooking Georgian Bay. It was a spacious bungalow built as a retirement home for a wealthy businessman and his wife; however, their business had failed and they had been forced to sell the house. It hadn’t been a surprise when they called him as his desire for their house was well known. They felt it would be better to sell the house to a friend who would properly care for it than sell to a random stranger.

The cottage had set him back quite a bit – cottage? That was like saying the Queen Elizabeth II was a cabin cruiser. It was actually a house – the main floor consisted of a spacious living room with a large fireplace nestled along the north wall; the west wall was made entirely of oversized windows and French doors opening onto a huge, multi-level deck wrapping the back of the house and pool. A roomy kitchen was separated from the living room by a black marble topped bar. Two small guest bedrooms occupied the south end of the first floor; one was currently being used as his home office. The basement consisted of a large room which he had transformed into a home theater; an exercise facility occupied the room off the theater along the west wall; storage and laundry spaces filling the remainder of the basement. Both the exercise room and theater had large, oversized windows allowing natural light along the west wall. The theater had a pair of French doors, similar to those in the living room opening onto a patio below the redwood deck; a flight of steps led up to join the deck above.

A sweeping staircase granted access to the upper floor which was simply a massive bedroom complete with a large en suite and walk-in closet. Each room was well lit with oversized windows lining the exterior walls. At the top of the stairs was a landing with a window overlooking the front of the house; turning left allowed access to a massive walk-in closet which had ample space to hang his cloths along with built-in dressers and racks for shoes. It also sported a laundry chute down to the basement facilities. If you turned right you entered the sprawling master bedroom. The room itself was sparsely furnished; an armchair by the window on the south, antique furniture here and there, a king bed along the north wall. A door on the west side of the room allowed access to the en suite which included a massive whirlpool tub, a shower large enough for four people and a double vanity; the toilet was in a separate, smaller room. A final door in the en suite opened back into the walk-in closet providing easy access for getting dressed.

One of the things that Rick liked most was the private deck which could be accessed from the master bedroom. It allowed for an intimate place to sit and watch the sunset over Georgian Bay.

A twenty by forty foot pool occupied the backyard, the redwood deck sweeping down to wrap around it. Beyond that you could find a short path which led down to the dock and boat house nestled along the shoreline. Currently the boathouse stood empty but he hoped to rectify that soon. A huge advantage that he had with the house was that it was fully winterized; between the oil furnace, the propane stove and seven cords of wood he could be quite comfortable year round.

He rose from the bed with a groan and stumbled over to the doors to peer outside.

Snow and Ice…why the hell hadn’t he check the weather forecast before coming up for the week?

Regardless of the weather – ice, snow, rain, or sun – it was beautiful here he thought as he gazed out over the majestic Georgian Bay, the perfect getaway from the hustle and bustle of