"Shit!" James yelled, checking behind him, only to see that the road he had been driving down was now completely gone.

The world had changed. John and George were gone. No one was following James. The pale street lights that had marked their progress down the street were gone, replaced by a bright sun. Trees dotted the hillside, forming a familiar landscape to Ringo, and an alien one to James. Of all these things, one remained the same.

The bike was still speeding. But now it wasn't speeding toward James' safety.

It was speeding toward a lake.

The bike sped up the dock. It took a graceful leap over the edge. For a second Ringo was convinced that this bike of James might be able to fly, but it plunged into the water. James landed cleanly into the water with a splash, but Ringo's head collided with a dock board as he fell. James bobbed the surface, too out of breath to curse. Just as he turned, Ringo slid off the dock into the water, unconscious.

If James had had time to think about what he did next, he probably wouldn't have done it. He dove down and scooped Ringo up with his arm around Ringo's head, keeping it above water. Using one hand, James managed to paddle back to shore, blessing his few lucky stars that the distance was no longer than he could manage. They reached the sand and James shoved Ringo off him, resentfully. James took a few deep breaths and staggered to his feet only to fall down and black out: an aftereffect of tripping.

Now, it would seem that two men lying on a beach unconscious would attract a lot of attention, perhaps even a crowd, but no one came by.

Ringo came around on his own. There was a throbbing pain on the back of his head, and that was probably what woke him. He took a few deep breaths, testing to make sure that both the air and his lungs were still working.

It was warm. And bright. Ringo moved an arm up to shade his closed eyes from the sun. He lay there for a moment with his hand over his face. Ringo sat up quickly. He looked around and blinked a few times. James lay next to him apparently asleep. Ringo didn't bother to get up, not trusting his legs, but crawled over to James to make sure that he was breathing.

Aside from checking that, Ringo felt helpless. He'd no idea what to do. Was he supposed to just wait? What if James didn't wake up at all? If he did something, it might just kill him.

Ringo stood up and brushed the sand off of his now dry clothes and tried to convince himself that James was none of his business. He took a step away from James, then looked back. Asleep, James looked even more like Paul, if such a thing were possible. He didn't look evil, or manipulative, or even slightly unpleasant. He looked innocent, never mind the fact that Ringo knew James had tried to kill him and would no doubt have left *him* had the situation been reversed. But Ringo wasn't like that, and he couldn't just leave. He gave James an awkward nudge with his foot and was rewarded by a fluttering of eyelids and a slight moan.

James opened his eyes and sat up quickly. He backed away from Ringo in fright, then nearly fainted again. Ringo stepped behind him to help him up.

"What the--how---Who?" James stuttered.

"Welcome to my life," Ringo muttered.

A few minutes later, things were even more complicated than before. Ringo was trying to find a way to tell James what he thought had happened, that he'd "tripped" between worlds again. How was he supposed to explain to a stranger what he himself didn't even understand?

James was trying to find something familiar in his new surroundings, this was a hard task considering that what he had brought with him was almost certainly a fish playhouse at the bottom of the lake by now. He felt naked without his gun. He didn't even have a knife. He had no defense except his mind and his words.

"James," Ringo started, trying to summarize his tale, "you see... I-- I'm-- ok. Short version: I'm not from your world. I've traveled from another world to yours, and now to another world again, and I've taken you with me. I don't know where we are any more than you do. I've no love of you, and I'd rather travel alone than with you. If it weren't for..."

James slapped his thigh, where the holster of his gun should have been. Then, remembering that nothing was there, he paused.

"Fine then," he said brusquely, "We'd best get a lay of the land. Find out where we are," and how long it will be before you're... dispensable, he added mentally. James started to walk down a path dleading away from the lake.

Ringo watched James walk away before following. It was an oddly familiar sight. James walked like Paul, looked like Paul, sounded like Paul, and even had Paul's mannerisms. But, Ringo reminded himself, this was not Paul. Just as the John he had met was not John. If he forgot that... Ringo shuddered the thought off and ran off after James.

They reached a road. It was paved and had the familiar white strips. A car suddenly drove up and stopped, and James quickly ducked behind a tree. Ringo took a few steps back, but more or less held his ground. The driver could well have been a psycho, but it was the only way to find out what this world was. Ringo managed to get a look at the driver. The driver was a woman. She was pretty. Actually, she was stunning. She looked up at Ringo and recognition flashed in her crystal blue eyes.

"Rich? What are you doing out here, miles and miles from Anywhere?" she asked, "Well, get in the car, you big lunk!" she grinned playfully.

Ringo reacted as if gorgeous blondes had been asking him into their cars all his life. For him, they had. With a reasonable amount of caution, Ringo considered the situation. This woman apparently knew Ringo, or someone who looked a lot like him. She didn't appear to be dangerous. Her face didn't hurt either. He got into the passenger seat.

They had only gone a short way before Ringo remembered James.

On toChapter 12

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