The Eyes of Kid Midas (14 page)

"Kevin, your eyes!" shouted his mother.

His father reached up and tried to pull the glasses off, only to find that they were no longer a fashion accessory. They were a part of his son.

"Kevin!" He screamed, terrified, and light-years away from understanding. "Kevin, what have you done to yourself?"

"No!" Kevin covered his eyes, and felt the sparks numbing his palms and twisting the world around him. With a spark, their radio was gone, thought out of existence as if it had been nothing more than a daydream. Another spark, and the radio station itself could not be found on any radio dial. Anywhere.

Kevin bolted for the stairs.

"Kevin!" His parents followed.

Teri stayed. She stood slowly and peered out the window, the chorus of the old tune still playing in her head. The sun hung just above the electrical tower on the hill, and it was slowly, slowly sinking into the eastern sky.

What was wrong with that?
thought Teri.
Was there something unusual about the sun setting at seven-thirty in the morning? Was there? Had it ever been any different?
And Teri began to cry because she could not remember.

Kevin had scrambled upstairs with his panicking parents behind him. He raced down the abnormally long hall.

At the top of the stairs Mr. Midas paused for a split second.
The doors,
said a thought far in the back of his mind.
Since when did this hallway have so many doors?
He hesitated just long enough for Kevin to get to the bathroom and lock himself in.

In an instant, Kevin imagined the bathroom sealed off from the rest of the world as best he could. The window was blocked in with bricks and thick mortar, the bathroom door was welded to the frame in a searing flash of orange light. The vanity lights around the mirror blew out one by one, leaving the small room in darkness.

Kevin didn't have a plan yet, but he knew instinctively what he had to do. Weakening the glasses was not enough. He had to starve them. Starve them until they crumbled and faded out of existence.

"Call a doctor—the police—the fire department," raved his mother.

Kevin's father pounded on the door, begging to be let in.

"Whatever it is, Kevin, we'll help you! Please, son, talk to me!"

Talk to him? What was there to talk about now? Kevin felt a hot and heavy fury that flew out in all directions. Where had his dad been for the past two weeks? Where had he been for the past two years? How could he hope to instantly bridge a gap that had been growing this long?

All the pounding and whining at the door was too little too late—another one of his father's favorite expressions.

A thick tongue of electricity licked out from the outlet across the room and into the glasses. "No!" screamed Kevin, and the force from that single thought fought the electricity back, sending a surge through the wires that melted the circuit breakers and blew out the power throughout the house.

"My God, he's being electrocuted," cried his mom, sounding so helpless that Kevin could almost laugh.

"That's it, I'm breaking down the door!" Mr. Midas began to ram his shoulder against the door as hard as he could.

"Dad, don't!"

He rammed the door again. It bowed inward, but didn't give.

"Dad, please!"

He rammed the door again and again. Kevin cringed in the corner, putting his hands over his ears, and screamed.

"Stop it! Just leave me alone! Go away!"

The ramming stopped, and so did the yelling.

The silence that fell was so unnatural Kevin thought he had somehow wished away his sense of hearing. Then, in a moment, when his ears adjusted, he heard the ticking of the clock way downstairs.

"Mom? Dad?" No answer. The boulder Kevin had been feeling in the pit of his stomach rose until he could feel it in his throat.

Away.

He had sent them
away.
Not to Siberia, not to a barge in the ocean, not to any place they could ever return from. Just . . . away.

"Mom? Dad? . . . Teri? But his only answer was the ticking of the clock.

When Josh awoke, it was still dawn . . . and yet the clock read 8:00. He had been asleep for two hours, but the sun seemed no higher in the sky. He knew he was awake but kept having to slap his face to get rid of that god-awful dreamy feeling . . . and why was the sky so dark?

Downstairs his mother was cooking.

"You slept late today," she said as he stepped into the kitchen. "Wash up, dinner's almost ready."

At first he thought he hadn't heard her right— but he had.

The scene in the kitchen was too bizarre for words. It was eight in the morning, and his mother, only half dressed for work, was broiling lamb chops.

Then, as if that didn't beat all, Josh's father,'who had left for his office over an hour ago, returned home.

"How was your day?" asked Josh's mom.

"Short," said his dad. "Real short."

Josh just watched with a sort of mummified amazement. His mother took off her heels, probably not even realizing that she hadn't been in to work yet, and Josh looked outside again, noticing that the morning had gotten even darker.

The sun's moving backwards!
thought Josh.
Not just that, but people have-suddenly decided that it's evening instead of morning.
He could picture people turning around on their way to work or school and returning home, not even batting an eye.

But it couldn't be! The sun can't just change directions—the Earth can't just start spinning the other way. Such a change would cause earthquakes and mass destruction.

But those were the
old
rules, weren't they—and the old rules didn't count anymore. The world might as well be flat, and the sun might as well be on the back of a chariot that pulled it across the sky . . . because it was eight in the morning, and the sun was setting in the east.

Josh skipped his early dinner and paid an emergency call on Kevin Midas.

CHAPTER 15

The Keeper of Dreams

It was already dark when Josh reached Kevin's house, and no lights were on. He rang the bell but didn't hear it ring. He knocked but no one answered.

There's no reason to panic,
Josh said to himself, not believing it in the least.

He climbed in through an open window and quickly discovered that the house had no electricity.

"Kevin? . . . Teri? . . . Mr. and Mrs. Midas? No answer. The close-cut curls on his head seemed to clench tighter.

He followed the smell of smoke to the kitchen, where a waffle iron was burning over a full gas flame. Josh turned off the burner.

"Kevin, where are you?"

He listened, and after a few moments he thought he heard a weak voice. "Kevin, is that you?"

"I'm up here, Josh," whispered the voice.

Josh climbed the stairs into darkness.

At the top of the stairs Josh saw, at the end of the dimly lit upstairs hallway, the bathroom door.

At first Josh couldn't tell what was wrong with it, but as he drew closer, he could see that a sheet of frost had gathered at the bottom of the door. He could hear something dragging itself across the floor on the other side.

"Kevin, are you in there?"

"I starved the glasses, Josh," came that godawful whisper. "I did it. They don't work at all now, but I can't get out . . ."

As Josh got closer he could see that the door itself was no longer made of wood. It was a dark, heavy gray slab, and when Josh touched it, his fingers stuck to the frozen surface, as they did when he touched the inside of his freezer at home.

The door had turned to lead. Kevin must have lined the entire room to keep all forms of energy out.

"Where's Teri, Kevin? Where are your parents?"

"Away . . ." said Kevin. "Just . . . away . . ."

Josh didn't like the sound of his answer. Bertram had been sent away, too. "Why is the sun setting, Kevin?"

"Never mind that," snapped the raspy voice. "I can't get out. . . . You have to find someone who can get me out . . . the police . . . firemen . . . anybody!" he said. "Because . . . I think . . . I think I'm dying, Josh."

Josh took a step away. The possibility had never been discussed, but Josh had feared it all along. That Kevin would abuse those glasses . . . until they killed him.

"You gotta help me, Josh . . ."

He should have taken the glasses away from Kevin as soon as he knew what they could do. He should have buried them at the base of the Divine Watch, so deep that no one would ever find them. But he hadn't, and now everything had come around full circle, back to him. Josh held the solution to the whole problem in his hands like a heavy, dark sword.

"Kevin, . . . if I let you out now, the glasses will start working again . . . things will keep changing . . ."

"We'll worry about it later," hissed Kevin. "Save me, Josh."

Josh tightened his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. He banged his head against the wall, hoping to knock some sense into it, or at least to knock himself out so he could lose himself in his own dream world instead of Kevin's.

 "Josh, are you there?"

There were two truths on the edges of Josh's sword. The first truth was that the only way to save the world was to remove Kevin Midas from it. The other truth was that he loved Kevin like a brother. Tears exploded from Josh's face, and he squeezed his eyes shut to hold them in.

"Josh, why won't you answer me?"

Josh could never win this one. If the solution was like a sword in his hand, then no matter which edge he used, the other edge would cut him down as well. Whether he saved Kevin or the world, he would have to suffer with his decision all of his life. With two choices each worse than the other, Josh knew which one he had to choose.

"Josh?"

"I'm here, Kevin."

"Are you getting help?"

"I . . . I just called the police," said Josh, pushing out the lie like a bad piece of meat. "They're on their way."

"Good." Kevin breathed a shivering sigh of relief. "Thank you, Josh. You're the best friend ever."

Josh pressed his palm against the frozen door once more, losing his battle to hold back the tears. He hadn't called the police. He hadn't called anyone. "Good-bye, Kevin," he whispered so softly that only he could hear it. Then he turned and left.

Halfway down the stairs he began to run and didn't stop running until he got home, where he buried his head deep in his pillow so no one could hear him scream.

In the chill of the October morning-turned- evening, the wind that had spent weeks shattering dry leaves on the pavement stopped dead, hushing like the surf before a tidal wave. The cloud cover that had been spreading out steadily from the Divine Watch for two weeks had, at last, reached the town of Ridgeline.

Single drops of rain began to fall, dampening the ground and preparing it for a sheet of rain, still ten miles away, that rolled south like a wall of water.

In his tiny dungeon of a bathroom, Kevin lost all track of time. He drifted half conscious through the loneliest, emptiest expanses of his mind; a dim universe growing dimmer by the minute. Then for a moment, perhaps the moment before dying, Kevin regained his senses and realized where he was.

It was much later now. Kevin could tell that it had been a long time since he heard from Josh.

"Josh!" he tried to yell, but all that came out was a wheeze of air. He pounded on the door, and it rang out with dull leaden thuds, but no one was out there.

If he closed his eyes now, he knew it would be for the last time.

But wasn't this what I wanted?
thought Kevin.
To kill the glasses at all costs?

Maybe not.

There was something he wanted more than that. He wanted to live. Kevin hadn't known that his will to survive could be so strong—so overpowering that it turned his fear into fury. All that mattered was getting out and getting warm—and both those things required giving the glasses whatever they needed.

There had to be a way out—but how? Wishing wouldn't make it so; the glasses were powerless now—and he had sealed himself in there so well it would take a battering ram to get him out. If he were going to live, then the answer had to come from him, and it had to come now.

Then all at once, the answer
did
come.

It was so simple, so amazingly simple, Kevin couldn't believe that it had taken him so long to think of it.

Kevin dragged himself across the icy floor to the bathtub, and with frozen fingers that could barely move, he turned on the hot-water faucet.

The frozen pipes clanged as the water tried to force its way through. Kevin thought it would never come, but finally cold water began to pour into the tub. Degree by degree the water slowly grew warmer until it was scalding hot. It flowed from the faucet, bubbling with heat; filled with energy.

In the dark, Kevin kept his distance as the bathtub filled, so the glasses wouldn't begin working too soon. Then, when the tub was full, Kevin stared at the dark door with a look of sheer determination. He focused all his thoughts on getting out of that awful room . . . and then he touched his fingertips to the surface of the water.

Josh heard the explosion five blocks away, and he instinctively knew it was Kevin. He flew out of the house, sprinting down the street at top speed toward the wall of rain clouds that loomed over the edge of town. He charged through backyards and crashed through hedges on the shortest route to Kevin's place.

He could see from halfway down the block that the front door of Kevin's house had been blown off its hinges by the force of the explosion. Shards of glass from the broken windows lay in the street. Josh raced inside and took the stairs three at a time.

"Kevin!" he screamed. "Kevin, where are you?"

All that was left of the upstairs bathroom was a gaping hole. That, and a bathtub full of solid ice.