Surviving the Improbable Quest (12 page)

Mizzi nods. “I will lure his ghost there. When he merges with his flesh, I’ll confine him and banish him to one of the outer worlds.” Mizzi hugs Allan for a long while. “I’m glad we met. You’re a brave one. Don’t forget that.” Mizzi leaps out of the boat. He turns then pushes the sailboat back into the lake. “Just cross the lake. When you get to the other side, follow the shore until you get to the House of Gold. Lyllia is there. She’ll know how to get you home.”

Asantia steers the boat letting the wind fill its sails. The wind is strong on the lake, but not cold. The tipping of the boat eases Allan into a reclining position, his back leaning on the side and his arms resting on the edge. He looks up at the twilight sky and bathes in the warmth of success, at peace now that he’s returning home.

An hour passes. The sky is at its brightest now, which isn’t that bright, especially since there is no visible sun. Allan wonders what kind of a world would get bright, but has no sun. Maybe the sun is too far away to see, but would still fill up the atmosphere with light. It is a similar world to Earth, but so different. Now that Allan isn’t fighting for his life he thinks about being on another planet. He really is somewhere else. Earth isn’t even in the same solar system as this planet.

“How many other worlds have you been to? Besides Earth?” Allan asks.

Asantia pulls out some food from her pocket and hands a piece to Allan. Tough and salty, it tastes like beef jerky, but looks more like a sponge than a piece of meat. She hands him another piece and giggles at how he devours it. “I’ve been around. But I always come back here. It’s my home. I’ve got friends here.” She looks up for a moment. “The possibilities are endless in the stars. Every combination you can think of exists. Red stars, purple nights, pink mountains and ocean worlds with flying whales as big as your Earth cities. I was eaten by one of those gigantic whales and survived for two months with the people that lived between its teeth. They were super sweet to me and had a beautiful city. Day and night depended on when the whale would open its mouth.”

“I’d like to see that. There are a lot of things I’d like to see, but I can’t go far in a wheelchair.”

“You’d be surprised at the places you can go. When you get a little older, how about I take you somewhere?”

“I’d like that. But I don’t want to get eaten, no matter how friendly the whale plaque is.”

“Got it. I’ll pick somewhere super-snug.”

“I hope ‘super-snug’ means cool.”

Asantia laughs, “Of course it does.”

“I’m confused. You were so mean to me when I first met you. Now, you’re not. It’s like you’re a different person.”

Asantia sighs. “Look, I’m a scavenger. I do what I have to. And, I wouldn’t have sold you to Killian Crow or any of the Metite Houses. Those guys are evil. I would have sold you to a Thinker. You would have worked for a year and then been given the opportunity to Test and earn your freedom.”

“You know slavery is wrong, no matter what.”

Asantia’s eyebrows rise. “Yup. But I didn’t make the rules here. There are a growing number of us who will change the rules, but it’s a process. You know?”

Allan sees, in her rich yellow eyes and her light smile, that she is telling the truth. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you about your tech,” Allan begins. “Your world doesn’t seem more advanced than Earth, but you can travel to other planets. How do you do it? How did I get here?”

Asantia adjusts the sails letting the ship pick up speed. She stands up in the boat, holding the steering tiller and a line that keeps the ship’s mast standing up. The wind blows through her hair and reddens her cheeks. “Yeah, we’re pretty backwards here. The only reason why we have any technology at all is because of Mizzi and others like him. He’s head of an underground society of thinkers and tinkers. They wrote the books that helped me make my ship. We also have a lot of books from Earth. That’s why we speak English.”

“But how did I get here? I was crawling through the woods.”

“You must have run into a Hubbu flower. The Hubbu plant produces huge flowers that create a pollen that creates little wormholes. Nobody knows how it works, but if you get enough pollen spores on you, they will take you through space. Mizzi thinks the pollen arrived here a long time ago and started all life in Lan Darr.”

“How do you know where it takes you?” Allan asks, intrigued.

“By the color, of course. The flowers bloom into six different colors. I’ve blended the colors and ended up in different places. Everywhere they take you is somewhere they grow. So you don’t have to worry about plopping into a world that doesn’t have air or is covered in lava. It’s almost as if you switch places with the pollen on the other world. That’s how it feels to me.”

“So you can go anywhere, anytime?”

“Well, a couple types of flowers, the deep red and the light orange ones, only bloom a few times a year. So if they’re not blooming, you can’t go where their color leads you. I’ve tried to save the pollen spores for later use, but they don’t keep. At some point the spores just pop out of our world and go wherever they go.”

“That’s amazing. I suddenly want to plant a flower garden.” Allan smiles.

Asantia winks. “They grow on Earth, too. But they are very rare. Every now and again, someone from Earth shows up. They’re confused and freaked out. They’d picked the flowers and got just the right amount of pollen on them.”

“Is that why there are humans here?”

“Probably. It might be why I’m here. I’ve wondered if that happened to me.”

“I’m sorry you never met your mother or father.”

“Me, too.” Asantia’s hair blows into her face and she pulls it away, staring into the breeze. “Earth books have helped us see better ways. Your books on the American system have started a revolution here.”

“Wow. Good.” Allan had never seen American history so clearly. “We’ve had our problems in the past, too.”

“Yeah, but your system pushes through all these problems. You’ve left a golden trail for us to follow.”

With all the trauma and troubles Allan has gone through, he’d almost forgotten that there were others that had similar or worse problems than him. The two continue talking for hours, laughing and sharing stories. Allan surprises himself by remembering so many good times, and Asantia’s stories are nothing short of fantastic.

Finally, they reach the other side of the lake. Asantia turns and parallels the shoreline. The House of Gold appears in a clearing next to a farm. It has round windows and archways overhanging doorways to courtyards and stairways. Plants of all colors and varieties hang off the balconies and overflow from hanging pots.

As they get closer Allan sees the inlet. It’s a harbor leading to a dock. On either side of the harbor entrance are two huge bird-head statues made of gold. They’re fifty feet tall, or more.

Asantia passes by them and steers the boat toward a dock at the back of the harbor. The dock leads to stairs that end in a doorway. It’s an over-sized doorway framed by flat golden stones that have inscriptions on them, like something from ancient Egypt.

Asantia releases the sails so they flap in the wind. The boat slowly coasts into the small harbor and bumps into the dock. Overlooking the dock is a tall pillar with a chair at the top occupied by a rotund bird that resembles an ostrich. Its feathers are green, orange and blue, similar to a parrot’s. It looks old. There are no feathers on its face, which is covered in a myriad of wrinkles and spots.

“Only speak when spoken to,” Asantia whispers. “I’ve never traveled through these gates when I had my ship, but I’ve heard stories of Lyllia of Meduna. If you want to get where you’re going, you’ve got to be as polite as a monk. Otherwise, she’ll send you to the far edges of the universe.” Asantia looks up to the crowned, wrinkled bird. “Hello, Your Royal Highness. We wish to travel to Earth while the Earth flowers are still in bloom. Thank you for your patience and protection all these years. You look lovely today.” Asantia says in her most polite tone, which sounds alien coming from her.

“Who is this with you? I don’t recognize this boy,” Lyllia of Meduna says.

“He is my . . .” Asantia looks at Allan for a moment then back up to Lyllia, “friend. I want to help him get home, Your Royal Highness.” Asantia ties the boat to cleats in two places to keep the boat from floating away from the dock. She takes Allan’s hand, pulls him to the edge and lifts him out of the boat. Then, with his arm draped over her neck and shoulders and her arm around his waist, she slowly hobbles up the steps toward the door at the top. It’s a solid gold door with ornate edges and molding, large metal cross beams, and gears in the center.

Lyllia holds out a wing. “These gates are closed to all that want to pass freely. You must earn your entry. Answer this riddle and you shall pass:

A natural state, I'm sought by all.

Go without me, and you shall fall.

You think of me after you spend,

and erode me when you eat to no end.

If you go too slow or too fast

you will not last.

What am I?”

Lyllia of Meduna leans back in her chair. “What does that mean?” Allan asks. He isn’t in the mood for games.

“How should I know? I’ve never heard of answering a riddle to use the gates,” Asantia complains then sets Allan at her feet so she can rest.

“You have fifteen flips of my coin.” Lyllia tosses a large gold coin up in the air. It flips and shimmers, its reflection flashing like a strobe light. Then she catches it. “One.” Then flips again.

Allan puts his hands on his head. He can’t blow this chance. This door will lead him home. Without Asantia’s ship or spending days collecting flowers, it is his fastest way home. “Okay, a natural state, I'm sought by all. Go without me, and you shall fall. You think of me after you spend, and erode me when you eat to no end. If you go too slow or too fast you will not last.” Allan thinks for a long moment. Lyllia flips the gold coin for the sixth time.

“What’s a natural state? Happy? Yes, people want to be happy,” Allan thinks out loud.

“But you can’t spend happiness,” Asantia argues. They think as the ninth flip turns in the air.

“Erode me when you eat to no end. What does that mean?” Allan grunts and smacks his hand on the step in frustration. Sweat trickles down his cheek.

Flip twelve.

“What are you? You’re an idiot, that’s what,” Asantia mumbles to herself. She’s staring off at the lake.

Allan’s eyes pop open. “It’s balance. That’s the answer, balance. Your Royal Highness, it’s balance.”

“Nope,” says Lyllia of Meduna. “It is greed.” She flips the coin in the air and catches it. “I just earned a nice little commission for stalling you.”

An arch over the gateway door is topped by a balcony filled with odd looking plants and some wind chimes that start ringing out. Allan looks at them because something catches his eye.

A column of black rises and twists like a tornado. The movement of the black is familiar. Beetles. The tornado bends at the top and lowers to the stairway, slowly forming into Jibbawk. It blocks Allan’s way home.

Chapter
19

Poison in the Water

Rubic stands in front of a crowd of people whose faces he can’t quite make out in the dark even with all their lanterns and flashlights. Thick bandages wrap around his forehead and neck, and his arm is in a blue sling. It has been sixteen hours since the flood, the last time Rubic had seen Allan alive.

Two rangers stand next to Rubic. A short, rotund ranger with a mustache speaks into a walkie-talkie. The other ranger, tall and solid, organizes the group into halves. The left half, eight people total, is an Amish family. They wear similar clothing. The women sport blue dresses, white aprons, capes and bonnets. The men have coats, straight-leg pants and wide-brimmed hats. Rubic thanks Larry for alerting the family. When they heard a child went missing they rushed to help.

“Wittmer family, you take the north side of the river,” the tall ranger orders. The other half of the crowd numbers fifteen. They’re not Amish but a menagerie of characters as diverse as patrons in truck stops and roadside diners.

“The rest of you take the south side.” With that last order the group begins the search. Flashlights and lanterns dance in the forest like colossal fireflies.

The rotund ranger turns to Rubic. Thick eyebrows shelter his deep-set eyes. “We’ll find him. This is the fastest search party ever assembled. Thanks to Larry.”

Larry smiles and swats the air toward the short ranger. “No trouble. I’ve been delivering mail up here for twelve years. Yup, I knew who would come an’ help.”

The tall ranger listens to chatter on his radio. “We’ll also have dogs out here within two hours. Don’t worry, we’ll find Allan. He couldn’t have gone far.”

Rubic nods and smiles even though he’s worried. “He can’t even walk,” he mutters. The tall ranger hands water bottles to Rubic and Larry.

“Why don’t you think he was washed farther downstream than you were?” the rotund ranger asks.

Rubic shakes his head. “He was with me for some time. Had to have been. When I woke up he’d built a dam around me. It diverted the water so I’d stay dry. It would’ve taken a while to build.”

“Okay. So we’ll search downstream, but not too far. Our search pattern will include a five mile radius from where you woke up.”

Larry pats Rubic on the back. “Sounds like Allan’s a smart cookie, yup. Maybe he’s made himself a lean-to and passed out for the night. It is late.”

Past one o'clock in the morning, twenty hours have passed since the flood. Rubic isn’t naive. Being lost for this long is not good. He starts to hike up the river and Larry follows.

“Try not to worry too much,” Larry says. “How much trouble could he get into?”

“I’m worried about how much trouble can find
him
. There are bears up here, and mountain lions, AND moose. Don’t moose trample things? What if a horde of bees stung him? There are timber rattlesnakes up here, too. Jeez.” Rubic calls out, “ALLAN!” No response. Allan’s name echoes off the trees, and the ferns shimmer in the cool night air.

“He’s in more trouble than just being lost.” Rubic concludes after walking for some time. He sweeps his light over rocks and inside bushes and fern clusters and under logs. “His parents died not long ago. I can tell he’s on the verge of losing interest in his life. He won’t speak to anyone, not even me.”

“Sounds like a normal reaction to a terrible thing.”

“Some things that have happened to him are
more
than terrible.” Rubic starts to cry. He does nothing to impede the trail of tears tumbling over his cheek and melding into his beard hair.

“The curse of humanity is the things we can think. Our minds can be so creative and so haunted at the same time. We must follow the light at all costs. Keep the darkness behind us. It may change and evolve. It will still try to get our attention, but if we keep looking forward, the dark will eventually be forgotten.” Larry says as he sweeps his light over dark bushes and numerous trees that look like telephone poles.

“It takes so long to forget. You know kids. You’ve got a couple. Time goes by much slower for them. Allan has been gone for a long time, but to him it must feel like a hundred years.”

Rubic shines a light on the trunk of a tree. He sees the red clay left by the raging flood. He wipes his finger on the clay. His finger collects a clump. “You say this flood happens every so often?”

“Yup, ever since they dammed the lake at the top and the glacier started melting. First one was in the mid-fifties.” Larry points his light at the tree. “Looks like the flood left a high water mark on all the trees.”

“Yeah, but...” Rubic’s mind is puzzled. He’s not a scientist of any sort, but he cannot shake the feeling that the clay is not a typical effect of flooding. He smells the clay on his finger then tastes it. He spits as fast as his muscles can retch. “Whoa! That’s weird.” His tongue starts tingling.

“What is it?” Larry scrapes his own red clay from the tree trunk and puts it up to his nose.

“Don’t taste it. Something’s not right with the clay.”

“It’s dang red. Most clay has iron in it that gives it a red hue, but this is rather bright. My lord.” Larry stares at the red clay on his fingers, his brow furled.

“It has a metallic taste. Very bitter. And my whole tongue’s numb now.” He measures the height of the waterline on the tree trunk. “Has it ever flooded this high? The water line’s probably four feet up.”

“Don’t know. The lake holds quite a lot of water. I’m sure it’s normal.”

“Okay, the amount of water’s normal, but what was
in
the water sure isn’t.”

“Yup, I would agree with you on that, pardner.”