Wheels (21 page)

***

PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE

Tuesday, March 17th
Aramedios

“
S
urrounded and unarmed, sir.”

“You’re sure?
Completely secure?” The Advitor had remained behind because, as he explained, “…to knowingly place myself in harm’s way would be selfish. Without me, who would save the Tsendi?”

“Completely,” replied Abacis, thinking that two small humans surrounded by forty-seven Tsendi, armed with double-pronged spears freshly fitted with spikes from a recently deceased wild broshbonit, should be secure enough for anyone. In addition, the Circanthian, Soliis, was a Tsendi spy. Surrounded and infiltrated—how much more secure did the Advitor need to be?

“Humans, you know,” Wells leaned forward as though they were having the most intimate of conversations, “are not like us, I mean—like
you
, Abacis. They are not savages. Furthermore, these humans, like myself, are a step above most beings as they have the ability to travel through time and space. Never, Abacis, underestimate a human’s resourcefulness.”

The thought of more humans telling him what to do and when to do it sent a surge of anxiety coursing through Abacis’ body. In an unconscious move, he tightened his grip and tilted his spear ever so slightly in the direction of the Advitor. “We should kill them now.”

“Good gracious, my boy!” Wells was smiling, but his eyes pierced Abacis like the spikes of a broshbonit. Not a warning, but a threat.

Abacis braced himself.

“Patience. If you want to win the game you must have patience and strategy.”

“The game?”

“War, Abacis. Those two humans are on the opposing side. Pietas will have deceived them into believing that “We” are the enemy. You, Abacis, the Tsendi, and me…your precious Advitor. WE are the enemy. And WE will not be killing anyone until I take possession of their machine. Their Gate, Abacis.
Our
Gate.”

The Advitor laughed and Abacis knew the worst was yet to come.

“Is there going to be a problem? Perhaps it is time to replace my number one Tsendi. Hey, what? Mallos would make a suitable replacement—not as bright as you are, but certainly more eager to please.”

“My only thought was for the Advitor’s safety.”

“Very well. Then go before us and announce my arrival.”

Abacis bowed and began swiftly backing away.

“Abacis—make clear my position as your savior and Advitor. It is essential these humans know exactly with
whom
they are dealing.”

********

An hour into their journey, grassy plains gave way to a desert of dirt and sand, pebbly in texture, but lighter and firmer to roll on. The temperature grew warmer, and as it seemed everywhere on Circanthos, the sky remained cloudless, the sans blocking everything else from view.

Bursts of sweet smelling, purple and blue bushes and short palm-type trees with long, orange, banana-shaped fruit dotted the landscape. Soliis grumbled
botooto froot
was not worth eating and promised that as soon as they reached their destination he would let them taste something called cobaca froot. “After you’ve tasted cobaca froot,” he claimed, “nothing else will do.”

McKenzie’s stomach rumbled. She would have eaten a piece of just about anything right now—only, it was too late. They had just reached the tallest of the towering rock formations; craggy, burnt-red peaks rising like dragon scales out of the sand, when a pack of wild, hairy, albino savages with blistering bloodshot eyes and huge jutting chins came swarming from behind the rocks. McKenzie experienced the type of terror heroines regularly encounter in grade B horror movies—terror that paralyzes, while all the while the audience is screaming, “Get out, get out!” Cursing and screaming in the foulest of languages and brandishing blood red, double pronged spears, the Tsendi quickly surrounded them.

Eventually the screaming stopped and the Tsendi leader disappeared behind a rock. McKenzie took a discrete look around. There was something strange about their captors, strange beyond their looks—something pathetic. Hunched over, sweating and drooling, they shifted and jittered, one hand holding the spear, the other hand clutched compulsively at a small pouch tied about their waist. Carefully, she looked over her shoulder, fearful any movement might provoke their already jumpy captors. Soliis looked terrified. Shivering and shaking, he looked ready to collapse. Obviously, he hadn’t planned this. Led them into a trap, that is. Unfortunately, it didn’t appear he was going to be much help, either.

The Tsendi leader returned. The soldiers stopped fidgeting and stood at attention. Maybe it was his eyes; bulging, but not as bloodshot, the compulsive, half-mad look replaced with intelligence. He frightened McKenzie.

“Make way for the Advitor,” he announced, each word spoken with authority. “H.G. Wells, our most trusted leader. Savior of the Tsendi.”

There was little emotion in the Tsendi leader’s voice, yet he commanded attention. Strangest of all, he had a British accent, just like Pietas. Whatever kind of creature Wells was, he must have learned English in England.

Two large Tsendi, hoisting a throne-like contraption on their shoulders, marched out from behind the rocks.

McKenzie heard Hayes breathing beside her and realized how grateful she was not to be alone. Even more—how glad she was that Hayes was here.

The throne was set on the ground and everyone bowed. Even Soliis, McKenzie noticed. Everyone bowed except McKenzie and Hayes. She studied the man sitting upon the pale-blue throne. Everything from his thick, curly, white hair to his trim, v-shaped beard looked human enough, but he didn’t look a day over sixty. He turned and caught McKenzie staring at him. His cold, ice blue gaze was such a shock, she was forced to lower her eyes.

Silence followed. It felt as if the entire planet were holding its breath, waiting for H.G. Wells to speak.

McKenzie became aware of something hovering above her head. She prayed it wasn’t one of the fat, plum-colored insects with long needle-like stingers she’d noticed above a couple of the Tsendi. Larger than any insect she’d ever seen, their tiny phosphorescent wings looked barely large enough to support their bulbous, translucent bellies, filled with sloshing, dark red liquid. McKenzie wanted to scream, but the silence had grown so thick she was afraid to pierce it. Instead, she closed her eyes, held her breath, and tried to think of something other than Hayes, Wells and giant mosquitoes.

When she finally had the courage to look up, H.G. Wells’ icy blue stare was there to greet her. As McKenzie looked into those eyes, she was overcome by a feeling of
déjà vu
. Stranger still, it felt as if he knew her—all of her. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, he spoke.

“Julianne Renée! What in the blue blazes are you doing on my planet!?”

Chapter 26

FBI TRANSCRIPT 21211

Agent Wink Krumm and Miracle Madison
Tuesday, May 26th

KRUMM
:  Longevity runs in your family. I believe you’re one hundred and—

MIR
: A lady never reveals her age.

KRUMM
: Of course not. I didn’t—

MIR
: You’re that nice young man who keeps pestering my daughter.

KRUMM
: You mean granddaughter, your daughter is…
never
mind. Mrs. Madison, I don’t wish to keep you. If you could just answer—

MIR
: Keep me? No one’s keeping me. I’m going home.

KRUMM
: Yes, yes, but before you do, I need to ask you one small favor.

MIR
: You seem like such a nice young man.

KRUMM
: I uh...why, thank you. I am nice. Most people don’t notice. Now, Grandma Mir…May I call you Grandma Mir?

MIR
: Of course, dear.

KRUMM
: Do you remember anything about the accident?

MIR
: I don’t recall having an accident.

KRUMM
: Excuse me, I mean the one your daughter, Georgianna—

MIR
: Oh! Time to go. Time to go to sleep. Poor Georgianna. Shame, shame, that’s what it is. Shame, shame—

KRUMM
: Shame. Yes, I agree. Apparently, it is time to go.

***

FISTS, FIGHTS & FLEEING TSENDI

Tuesday, March 17th
Aramedios

McKenzie frowned. Her great-great—well, she wasn’t sure how many greats—grandmother was named Julianne. She was somewhat famous, but McKenzie didn’t know why. Anyway, she was being paranoid. There had to be tons of people named Julianne.

“Her name is McKenzie,” said Hayes.

H.G. Wells descended his throne, adjusted his vest, smoothed his hair, and then, as if reluctant to relinquish center stage, strolled over to McKenzie and Hayes. Ignoring Soliis, he circled the two humans, stopping several times to examine a piece of clothing, McKenzie’s hair; but most often, her wheelchair.

At some point, Hayes had placed his hand on McKenzie’s shoulder. She was glad it was there. Conscious of Wells, conscious of the bug hovering above—even more conscious of Hayes’ hand—she waited. The bugs hovering above the two Tsendi resembled ominous, little, black rain clouds.

“Abacis, have one of your men lead those disgusting creatures away,” said Wells.

The Tsendi leader looked uncomfortable, pained even, by his leader’s request…or rather, his order. Despite this, he nodded to the smaller, older looking of the two Tsendi. The soldier’s bulging eyes almost burst from their sockets pleading, begging Abacis not to pick him.

“Get on with it,” said Wells.

The old Tsendi lowered his spear, paused and then, suddenly and quite violently, ripped the pouch from about his waist. He tossed it to Abacis. The air erupted with groans and moans, as though each and every Tsendi had been pained by this act. All accept Abacis who, for his part, acted as if he’d been tossed a bag of burning coals; in fact, he almost dropped it.

“Quiet!” yelled Wells.

“Ungrateful fool!” McKenzie heard Soliis mutter.

Abacis nodded to the old Tsendi, some unsaid message passing between them, and tied the pouch next to his own.

The old Tsendi picked up his spear, turned it around, and to McKenzie’s horror, he pierced his own flesh. Thick white blood oozed from the wound. The buzzing above McKenzie’s head intensified. Tsendi on either side stepped away. The old Tsendi dropped his spear and took off in the direction of the rocks. The insects followed.

Though Locent san burned brightly, McKenzie was suddenly chilled.

“Don’t worry, if he makes it to the Boreis Peaks, the flickviks will give up the chase,” said Wells, his cold blue gaze lingering on McKenzie’s face. “I suppose I’ve lived so long I’ve forgotten what it is to die,” he murmured. “Of course, my sister, Julianne, is nothing but a rotting, putrid box of bones buried beneath a gravestone that reads,
Here lies Julianne Wells. She searched and searched and searched, but could never find her brother
.” He laughed, delighted by his own joke. “Your eyes, my dear…you are the girl in the picture.”

Hayes’ grip on her shoulder tightened.

McKenzie didn’t know what picture he was talking about, but it didn’t matter. Why had Wells mistaken her for his long dead sister?

“It’s been years since I’ve laid eyes on another human.” Wells grabbed a fist full of McKenzie’s red curls and let them slide through his fingers.

McKenzie flinched. Who was this man? Despite his age, he claimed to be human. If so, you’d think, surrounded by all these monsters, he’d be happy to see someone from his own planet.

 “Don’t play games with me child! Perhaps you don’t know who I am. H.G. Wells, at your service, the inventor of this little machine you sit upon.”

Hayes’ hand slipped from her shoulder. “Wow! You’re the inventor of the wheelchair!” He could be such a geek at times.

Wells glanced at Hayes as if noticing him for the first time, and then his eyes returned to McKenzie. “It was wise of you to bring along your servant,” he said. “Really, though, you should have trained him better.”

McKenzie reached back for Hayes, but she was too late. “Hayes don’t—!”

By the time the words left her mouth, Abacis was already peeling Hayes’ fingers from around Wells’ neck. Hayes fought to hold on, but the muscle-bound Tsendi easily got the better of him, holding his kicking, thrashing body with one arm, while motioning three soldiers to come forward and assist him.

“Tie him UP!” said Wells, his voice horse from Hayes’ well-placed grip.

McKenzie watched, stunned and helpless. The Tsendi bound Hayes’ arms and legs with scratchy looking pieces of orange twine, and then stuffed an enormous crimson colored leaf into his mouth. “Help him!” she cried, looking back at Soliis.

Soliis shrugged. “He’ll pass out soon enough.”

McKenzie hadn’t jumped since she was five-years old, but she could almost feel her legs aching with the urge to lunge out of her wheelchair. “Traitor! You led us into a trap!”

Soliis looked away.

“Now, perhaps you’ll be good enough to stop feigning ignorance,” Wells nodded pointedly at Hayes, “and hand over your machine.”

McKenzie hated riddles, and this felt like one. First his sister, now a machine? What machine?

“You thought you’d go on a little adventure; explore the galaxy, claim a few planets and return home. I knew it was only a matter of time before Julianne sold my plans. Although…I am surprised it took the rest of mankind this long to get here.”

McKenzie was only half listening. She was trying to figure out how two humans, one of them bound, gagged and passed out, could outrun all those Tsendi soldiers.

“I am not surprised,” Wells continued, “No, rather, I am flattered my design has been improved upon. After all, according to my calculations, it has been almost one hundred fifty years since I left Earth.”