Jackie the Beanstalk
Nathan Everett
©2021 Elder Road Books
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ISBN 978-1-955874-10-6
Designed by Nathan Everett
Cover photo by Evgenyrichko, ID 732180235 licensed from Shutterstock.com
Divider art by Aleks47, ID 143768332 licensed from Shutterstock.com
Chapter 1
Cap and Gown
Before we get started, I might as well tell you, I’m a girl. I’m eighteen and tall and thin. I like sports, outdoors stuff like camping, and animals. Pop—my Grandpa—started calling me a beanstalk years ago when I started growing—up, not out. He said I was a real tomboy, too. Mam—Grandma—said I needed to grow tall just to contain all the good in me. I love Grandma Mam. She always has something kind to say about everything. Aunt Misty just said it meant I was strong and empowered—a real woman. I thought in any case, it would have been nice to have tits by the time I graduated from high school. Wasn’t to be.
Did you know thesaurus.com lists 385 synonyms for ‘beanstalk.’ And nearly every one applies to me. Angular, slender, gangly, skinny, lanky, lean… You get the idea. I’m a tall, gangly, sometimes uncoordinated, pile of bones with a thin layer of meat and skin pulled over the top. I’m a scrawny, rawboned broomstick with a soaring attitude to match my statuesque height. You get the picture, right? I’m tall and skinny. But what the thesaurus doesn’t mention is that I’m deceptively strong from playing basketball, disk golf, soccer, volleyball, and track. And I have a wicked arm when I’m throwing a softball. I wear my basketball varsity letter, but I lettered in four different sports.
Being the kind of curious kid I’ve always been, I looked up ‘beanstalk’ in the urban dictionary of slang, too, and I found two completely different (in my opinion) definitions.
1) Being a plain annoying human being.
2) Someone doing something legendary.
I suppose I could be legendarily annoying and fit both definitions. Of course, those are just the top definitions. I like the last one on the page just as much.
3) The epitome of clitoral arousal. A clit erection. As in ‘Lick my beanstalk!’
Well, you get the idea. So, how tall is tall? Not that tall if you’re a guy. I’m 6'3". If you want that in metric, I’m 190.5 centimeters. How skinny? 133 pounds naked. Not many have seen that, yet. Dan Blackwell saw most of it back when… Well, you know. Oh, yeah. That’s 60 kilos. I’d be worth a fortune if I was cocaine. Yeah, baby. Like $1.8 million. In the right market. A lot more than I’m worth as a tall skinny girl. I’d have to play in the WNBA for, like, ten years to earn that much. So, I guess I won’t be getting rich any time soon.
I’ve lived with Mam and Pop since I was eleven. And Aunt Misty. She was just graduating from high school when I moved in. She never moved out. I got my mother’s old room. My parents? Don’t ask. We never talk about them. Looking at Mom’s room when I moved in, though, you’d never think she was the kind of person she turned out to be. I quickly adopted Misty’s words for her parents and they became Mam and Pop to both of us. It was so much easier than keeping track of whether we were referring to my grandparents or her parents. Might not be the same as everyone, but it made Misty and me feel even more like sisters.
Okay, a little bit of the backstory. Did you ever notice how country songs sung by men are all, like, “Hot girls in teeny tiny shorts, I will make you my wife, bear my children, front porch, family values, and casseroles.” Oh yeah, and “Poor me, my truck ran away with my dog.” While country songs sung by women are, like, “Oops! I killed my husband.” Well, now you get an idea about my dad and mom. She’s got another fourteen years before she’s eligible for parole.
Poor Mam and Pop were in their late fifties and thinking about retirement and maybe traveling around the world as soon as they could get Misty out of the house. Then I moved in. Now, they’re pushing seventy and still haven’t retired. Still hoping the youngest will move out so they can start traveling. I probably will, but I hate to leave Misty. She’s more like a big sister than an aunt. Maybe she’ll move with me. Oh, wow! The trouble we could get into together would be epic!
Not that I ever get into trouble, mind you. It’s just an expression. Sort of.
Like I couldn’t find a date for senior prom because Dan Blackwell already got Randi Bishop preggers, so he wasn’t going to take me. So, I bought a couple’s ticket and got Misty to go with me. It was easier for me to get a tux than a formal, so Misty got to wear the gown and go as my date. Mam about had a coronary when she saw my haircut. Slicked back and parted on the side. When she saw me in the living room in my tux and my neatly pasted on pencil-thin mustache, she thought I was my date. Oops!
Misty is almost a foot shorter than me, so we made a striking pair on the dance floor. It was almost halfway through the prom before anybody figured out who it was. You wouldn’t believe the number of guys who hit on my aunt. Or, for that matter, the number of girls who hit on me.
I kept my hair short and really look butch now. Not that I’m that way. I’d like some guy to get sweet on me. I’m just not interested in spending the effort to tame one. Probably end up like my mother. Misty, on the other hand, is very feminine and cute. Unfortunately, she depended on that in life and wasn’t that successful. She’s worked at Starbucks ever since she graduated. So, don’t go believing the tall tales you hear about the flirty barista who is suddenly swept off her feet by the rich handsome billionaire, or something. Misty’s still pulling shots. Maybe she set the bar a little high.
So, where’s this story going, anyway? Hell if I know. So, sometimes I’ll just talk to fill the void. I’d say it actually started at commencement. When I accepted my diploma from Principal Rogers, he looked up at me—short guy—and took my hand so we could shake for the photographers. Only in that minute, I could have walked around the entire stadium and counted every one of the two thousand people present. As they say, time stood still.
“I expect I’ll hear news of your great accomplishments, Jackie. You have a unique future before you. I’ve put your travel documents in your folder. Make us proud,” he said. Only it was like his voice was somewhere far away, even though I could see his lips moving, a little out of sync with what I was hearing. It was like his voice was on the other side of some canyon or something. Yeah, Mrs. Donahue would say the right word was ‘chasm.’ He spoke to me across a great chasm complete with an eerie echo. I paid attention in school. Then the camera flash went off and I walked off the platform—one of 300 students in my graduating class.
I’d like to say that was the weirdest thing that ever happened to me, but weirdness kind of follows me around like a lost puppy. Take that time soon after I got my driver’s license, for instance. I was driving Pop’s old Ford Fairlane 500. I know. Sounds weird already, but Pop bought the car new in ’68 with money he’d saved all through high school. Then he was drafted and spent four years as a jungle rat in Southeast Asia. The car still only had a couple thousand miles on it at the time and so he just kept it in the garage and used some of his military pay to buy a motorcycle. Well, I won’t get into how he met Mam and packed her off on an around-the-USA motorcycle trip and they got back with my mom in the hopper and a smile on their faces.
But that’s how the fifty-some-year-old car happened to be in the garage when I decided to go shopping with Misty. I mean, Misty never learned to drive and never really went anywhere more than a bicycle ride away unless someone else was driving. She said driving was what boys were for, but she was happy enough when I offered to drive. She’s still a kid at heart and filled with delusions. We’d gone to the mall, had burgers at Wendy’s, and were headed back home. I decided to stay off the main roads because I wasn’t sure the Fairlane would go at freeway speeds even though it was in immaculate condition. I couldn’t remember it having been out of the garage in the past five years, though it had current plates. But we were driving along without a care in the world when this voice says, “Turn right at the next corner.”
All echoey like Principal Rogers’ voice I told you about. I won’t re-explain that. I looked over at Misty and she was just sitting there like she didn’t hear a thing, the brat. I’m not crazy, so when I got to the next intersection I turned right. I was listening for further instructions, which weren’t forthcoming, when I saw a dog in the middle of the road. I pulled to a stop and jumped out of the car, even though Misty was hollering “Be careful. Don’t let it bite you.”
Well, this poor mangy mutt wasn’t interested in biting. He wanted to lick me half to death. Faker. He got up and followed me to the car and when I opened the door, he climbed in the back seat and lay down like he owned it.
And that’s how I came to own Roadkill. Clever name, right? It’s also how I came to have three months of duty pulling the Fairlane out of the garage every Saturday morning and washing it, then vacuuming out the inside and using some of that ‘new car smell’ polish to go over all the plastic and vinyl in the car and leather conditioner for the seats. After three months, Pop declared the car free of the mangy dog smell at last.
Weird, huh?
But that dog never leaves my side except when I go to school. Hardly even had to train him, except to get him to stand still while I gave him a bath. Now, he even tolerates a ribbon in his hair if I get in a mood.
Mile 0
Where was I?
Commencement was over and I found Mam, Pop, Misty, and Roadkill waiting for me outside the stadium so we could take family pictures with me in my graduation gown and holding tight to my diploma. I never opened it up. They’d mail the diploma sometime this summer. I knew all they gave us at commencement was an empty folder. And travel documents? I wanted to figure out what these ‘travel documents’ were that Principal Rogers mentioned but decided I should do that in private. Then Pop did something I never in a million years would have imagined. He held up the keys to the Fairlane and dangled them in front of my face. He pointed across the parking lot where that red and black fastback was sitting with a bow tied to the radio antenna.
“It’s yours now. Drive it like you own it,” he said. Oh, I gave him the biggest, crushingest hug you can imagine and a kiss right on his cheek. Then I did the same to Mam, only I had to bend over a lot farther to reach her cheek. I turned to Misty and grabbed her hand and took off running toward the car, my cap and gown flying and Roadkill barking at our heels. The three of us piled into the car and I started up the 390 Thunderbird Special V-8 engine and felt the Fairlane come to life beneath my fingertips.
“Where are we going?” Misty asked. Always the practical one.
“I don’t know. Principal Rogers said my travel documents were in my diploma folder.” I handed it to her and a packet of papers fell out, including an old-fashioned AAA TripTik. How weird can things get? Like, was this all a scheme he cooked up with Pop? Old car and a really old map.
“It starts here,” Misty said, pointing helpfully at the first page.
“Okay. Write down the odometer reading: 0. You think that can be real? Has it tipped over once or twice?” I asked. Probably never know the answer to that one. I revved the engine a little to feel it rumble. “You’re my GPS, girl. Let’s see where this map takes us.” I pushed the four-on-the-floor into first, only chirped a little when I let out the clutch, and pulled out of the stadium parking lot following Misty’s instructions to turn right. We were on the road.
Mile 93
We’d been driving along for almost two hours, getting up over the mountain pass and singing 60s songs at the top of our lungs. Sometimes Roadkill joined in as if he knew the music. It was different when he started to whine, though.
“Hey, does my guy need a bathroom stop? Hmm. Me, too. Watch for a place where we can pull over,” I said.
“Um… The TripTik says ‘Diner on right.’ It should be… There it is!”
I saw it in time to pull into the gravel parking lot and find a parking spot. I jumped out of the car and grabbed Roadkill’s leash, then saw some plastic baggies on the seat. Knew what those were for. I grabbed one and headed for the grass out back.
“Hey, see if you can find some water for him,” I called to my aunt. At this moment, she was really more like my sidekick than an aunt. She was only seven years older than me. And we were having too much fun, just letting the old car run. Misty grabbed Roadkill’s dish out of the back and disappeared into the diner. Roadkill did his business and I dropped it in a dumpster on my way to the front door. Misty appeared and said to come on in. “With Roadkill?”
“They said it was fine. I’ve got the three of us a booth.” Well, I’d never heard of a diner that allowed dogs in, but indeed, Misty waved me to a booth.
“Wow! I’m starved. Why is everybody looking at me?” I asked.
“Probably because you’re still wearing your cap and gown and all those things dangling around your neck,” she laughed. “You could take it off.” I started to panic.
“I can’t,” I squeaked. “I’m only wearing underwear.”
“You wicked girl!” Misty laughed.
“That means I don’t have my wallet either. Do you have any money?”
“I’ve got some money and I’ve got your wallet, too. Remember? You gave it to me before we left the house this afternoon.”
“Well, thank goodness for that. I suppose I could take off some of the decorations,” I said. I got to considering what I must look like. I mean, it was fine when I was surrounded by 300 others who looked the same. But in a diner in the middle of nowhere, it had to look pretty strange. The gown and mortarboard were dark, almost iridescent blue. My tassel and the shiny stole were silver. Those were the school colors. The stole only came down to the middle of my torso with pointy ends making like a beacon to show how far it was to the ground. Then there were the cords. Not to brag, but I was a pretty good student and active in all kinds of things. I had a white cord for having done 100 hours of community service projects. The light blue cord was because I was an AP scholar. The gold cord indicated that I graduated with a 3.5 GPA or better. Then on the left breast—if I had anything there—I had my athletic badge, a silver interlinked WW for West Wilford, with a flaming basketball cutting across it to indicate my principal varsity sport. We got little badges beneath that indicated the number of years we participated in each sport. I had fifteen badges. I guess I looked the part of a high-achieving grad.
The waitress took our orders and brought me the biggest, messiest chili burger I’d ever seen. There was a mountain of fries next to it. Misty had a chef salad. She might have thought it was going to be a sensible lo-cal meal, but the bowl it came in was the size of a regular serving bowl and I could see it was totally drenched in blue cheese dressing—Misty’s favorite. The waitress even brought Roadkill a bowl of water and some kibble.
We were apparently in the vanguard of the dinner rush, because people started coming in and getting seated. Our waitress was hustling her butt off. I made a note to be real nice when I tipped her. I didn’t want her to lose that butt. It was way too nice. I notice that kind of thing. Everybody who came in seemed to stop and look at me, then smile and nod. I guess that pride people have in graduates is present, even when they don’t know them.
I don’t know how we managed to finish our meal—aside from a few French fries and a little chunk of burger I slipped to Roadkill. I was mopping up the remains of the chili on my plate with a fry. Misty had done pretty well with her salad, too. I don’t know how she manages to stay so cute and trim with as much as that girl eats. Course, people say the same about me, except for the cute part. We were just trying to decide if we wanted to split a sundae when we heard a ruckus at the cash register and looked up to see what was going on.
Some guy in a winter parka, gloves, and a ski mask was hassling the cashier. He was dressed way too warm for the weather. It was mid-June and the temp was just beginning to cool from the afternoon high of 75. A man in the booth nearest to the cashier started to get up and the fellow at the counter swung around and landed a blow on the side of his head with what was quickly obvious as a gun.
“The rest of you just sit down and shut up!” he yelled waving the gun around. “I’m just getting a take-out and some cash. So, take out all your cash and put it on your table. This pretty waitress is going to come around and collect it for me.” He smacked my waitress on her butt—that fine butt I was noticing earlier—and prodded her forward with his gun. I saw the cashier reach for something and apparently the robber saw her, too. He swung back to her and fired. The cashier staggered back and hit the floor.
I honest to God do not know what came over me. He shot the cashier and slapped the butt of my waitress. I snatched the mortarboard off my head and used one of my best disk golf throws to launch it at the bastard. He never saw it coming as it lodged in the front of his throat. He dropped the gun, tried to take a step toward the door, and fell to the floor.
Roadkill was off like a flash, standing on him and growling. Then he sniffed at the guy, grabbed my cap, and trotted back to me. The guy didn’t move, but a big puddle of blood collected under his neck.
Oh, shit! What had I done?
A woman declaring herself a doctor, scurried around the counter to check on the cashier. She totally ignored the bleeding robber. I guess dead robber was more like it. I just stood there staring at what I’d done as two guys moved to search the perp. My waitress stepped up to our table and gently took the cap from Roadkill. She used her table rag that she washed all the tables with to wipe the blood off the corner of the mortarboard, carefully making sure it was clean. Then she placed it back on my head and made sure the tassel was hanging correctly. I just stared at her as she leaned forward and put a soft kiss right on my lips.
“Thank you, Warrior Wizard,” she whispered. Then she cleared our plates as if nothing had happened. I looked after her sexy butt for a second and then looked at Misty to see what she thought. Her eyebrows were stuck somewhere up under her hairline and her mouth was at least as wide open as mine.
Just then another guy approached our booth. He laid a wallet, some change and the gun on our table.
“He didn’t have much, I guess, but there’s some cash in the wallet. It’s all yours now.” He turned and went back to the front where he and the other guy who’d searched the robber picked him up and dragged the body outside. A minute later, I heard the clang of the dumpster lid.
My waitress was back with two absolutely huge hot fudge sundaes that she put in front of Misty and me, and a little dish of ice cream for Roadkill. At least she knew not to put chocolate on the dog’s dessert.
“How’s the cashier?” I asked.
“The doctor said she’ll be fine. He wasn’t really aiming when he shot her and the bullet passed through without much damage. Don’t worry about her. Your meal’s been taken care of. If you want anything else, just say so. Coffee with your dessert?” Misty and I both nodded our heads and looked at each other.
“What the fuck just happened?” I whispered.
“If I believed what I saw, I’d say a guy tried to rob the diner, you killed him, and then everything went back to being normal. But that couldn’t be right. Right?”
“Right. Um… This sundae is really good, though.”
We hung around, expecting the state police or county sheriff or at least an ambulance to show up, but nothing seemed to be happening and no one seemed to expect anything to happen. I looked at Misty and she shrugged, so we stood to leave.
“What do we do with this stuff?” I asked.
“I guess you are supposed to take it,” Misty said. I picked up the wallet and looked in it. There were some small bills and a fifty. I put the big bill on the table as a tip for our sexy waitress and then tossed the wallet to Misty.
“Put this and the gun in your bag. I don’t have any pockets or a belt or anything.”
“I don’t see how you could need it as long as you have your cap and gown,” Misty said. “Wicked!”
On the way to the door, people nodded our direction, Roadkill padding along behind us with his leash in his mouth. I carried his dishes. Our waitress met us at the door with a bag.
“The cook packed a breakfast for you. We don’t know where your journey will take you, but we’re glad it included our little diner.” She presented me with the bag and then leaned in to stretch up on her toes and kiss me again. Only this was a really really good kiss. I’d be able to taste that kiss for the next couple of hours good. “Thank you, Warrior Wizard. Blessings on your travels.”
We headed out to the Fairlane. Roadkill got in the back seat. I started the car, and felt the engine rumble to life. I took another look around before I pulled out of the parking lot to make sure no police were coming to arrest me. It looked like everyone in the diner had come outside to wave goodbye, my waitress in the lead. I hit the gas and popped the clutch. We peeled out of the parking lot onto the open road and were gone.
“Hi ho, Silver, away!” I shouted out. Misty started laughing.
Chapter 2
Crossing Denial River
Mile 147
“You think I’m my mother’s daughter?” I asked Misty as we drove down the twisting road along a river. It bothered me. I just killed some hombre—I think. Maybe I should be in the cell next to my mother. How could people just ignore that and not even call the cops?
“Honey, you’re asking the wrong person. My sister is fifteen years older than me. By the time I knew who she was, she was married and living two states away. And I didn’t know her husband at all, so I couldn’t tell you if he deserved killing like that bastard back at the diner. I know Mam and Pop weren’t that surprised,” Misty said. She reached over and patted my thigh.
No flashing red lights had come tearing up behind us, so I was guessing nobody cared about the guy I offed. Still couldn’t believe I killed him with my mortarboard. At least I think I killed him. I never actually examined the body. Maybe it was all a set up.
“Well, I wiped most of that from my memory. Maybe someday a therapist worth her wage will dissect my brain and discover what kind of childhood I had. I really don’t care much anymore. About either of them,” I said. I looked at the twisting river off the side of the road. Seemed like it was getting significantly bigger as we traveled. “I’m sure I remember some town along here that Mam and Pop took us to so we could see the Christmas decorations. Are we still on the same road?”
“There’s no town marked on the map along here,” Misty replied. “Looks like we cross the river in a couple of miles and continue on the other side. But no town.”
“Well turn up the radio. Let’s find out what station we’re listening to.”
We rode on and found the bridge. It looked like a pretty nice and fancy bridge to be out here in the wilderness like this. Even had streetlights marking it.
“Now this is just too strange,” I said. “Who puts a bridge in the middle of nowhere with streetlights on it?”
“Oh, what was that story? The one where the kids climb in the closet and come out in a different world. There was a lamppost there.”
“The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. We are not in Narnia. My head can’t accept that. There must be some more logical explanation.”
“Yeah. How about if there’s a troll who lives under the bridge and he likes to be able to see what he’s eating,” Misty giggled.
“Oh, thanks a lot. That image will haunt my dreams. You’re gross!” We laughed and kept driving, but I yawned pretty powerfully. “Do you think maybe we should find a hotel or something for the night? I’m getting tired.”
“You think?” Misty asked. It took a second before I figured she was responding to the idea of needing a place to stay. “The TripTik says turn left and go to campsite 33.”
“You’re kidding. Turn where?”
“There!”
I slewed the car around and just barely made the corner into a campground I never even saw a sign for. I wasn’t sure what good a campground was going to do us when what I wanted was a nice hot bath and a hotel bed.
“You could have given me more warning!” I yelled as I started looking for the campsite. Being told to camp here seemed just as normal as anything else that happened today. I was still hoping to see a Holiday Inn at the campsite. These were my travel documents Misty was reading from. I probably had a reservation.
“I swear it didn’t say anything about a campsite when I was looking at the bridge location,” she pouted. “Over there. That’s site 33.” I pulled into the campsite and stopped the car. The campsite had the same logo on it that I wore on my gown. WW with a flaming basketball. Fuck!
I got out of the car and stretched. It was actually a pretty comfortable ride, but too long in one position makes me crazy. Roadkill jumped out of the backseat and found a place to relieve himself before he even started sniffing around. Didn’t blame him for that. I spied a washhouse just a little ways away.
“I’m headed for the girls’ room,” I called to Misty.
“Okay. I’ll get some water for Roadkill. Whole campground looks deserted.”
“Well, keep an eye out just in case.” I wasn’t sure I knew in case of what. I wasn’t expecting to have to throw my hat at some phantom rapist or anything. Course, I didn’t expect to do that the first time. I gathered up my robes and perched myself above the stool. Place looked clean enough, but why take chances with your butt? I had all kinds of images of rattlesnakes or something coming up out of the toilet. I got done quick and went out to wash my hands. There was even hot water in the faucets. I looked around and saw shower stalls with actual doors on them—not just a plastic curtain. I guessed maybe I was overreacting to the idea in my head about snakes.
I left the washroom and nearly stepped on one.
I screamed and the snake slithered away. I know, it was probably more afraid of me than I was of it, but I could scream louder. Roadkill and Misty reached me at a dead run.
“What is it? What happened?” Misty gasped. Roadkill started sniffing around.
“A snake. That’s all. Just scared the shit out of me.”
“Didn’t you do that in the toilet?” Misty said. Roadkill rubbed up against me. “Well, while I’m down here, I’ll empty the bladder, too. Um…”
“Roadkill and me’ll wait here for you,” I said. She smiled and nodded.
A few minutes later, she came out looking much refreshed. “Hot water!” she said happily.
“I figure I’ll make use of the shower in the morning,” I agreed as we walked back up to the campsite.
“Uh… Do we have a blanket or anything?” Misty asked. It was cooling off here in the foothills and we put our arms around each other as we walked.
“Not that I know of,” I said. “Pop always keeps an emergency kit in the trunk of his Fusion. Maybe there’s one in the Fairlane. I think we could put the back seat down and open the hatch. We might have enough room to lie down and Roadkill can keep us warm.” We reached the campsite and Misty went to brush off the picnic table and pace around. I unlocked the hatchback and looked inside. “Misty? Did you do this?”
“Do what, hon?” She came around to look in the back. Roadkill put his front feet up on the opening so he could see in, too. The back was packed tight with everything I could think of that we’d need. There were sleeping bags, pillows, a tent, camp stools, a cooler, two huge backpacks, and my teddy bear. Don’t laugh. A girl needs something nice and soft to cuddle up to at night and all I had was a teddy bear. “I guess we get to camp out,” Misty said. She looked at me as if I had all this planned. I just shrugged my shoulders and looked right back at her shrugging hers.
We went about making camp, setting up the tent, and putting things away inside. Then Roadkill came up to me dragging a dead tree limb behind him.
“I don’t think we can play fetch with that,” I said. “But we could build a fire.” I looked in the car and sure enough, there was a camp saw, a hatchet, and a bunch of fire starters. We learned to make those in Girl Scouts when I was in junior high. They were just sawdust and paraffin, poured in a paper muffin cup. I started breaking up the smaller bits of the limb and sawing off bigger chunks as Misty rummaged around in the trunk to see what else we might have.
“The packs have clothes in them.”
“Huh. I was kind of getting used to the gown.”
“Isn’t it scratchy?”
“I think it was when I put it on this afternoon. Maybe I’ve just sweated and wiggled enough that it softened up. It actually feels kind of comfortable now. More like a bathrobe.”
Before long, I had a fire going and Misty was heating water for instant hot cocoa. Roadkill had finished his kibble, done his business, and settled down on my feet. It had been my own sense of rebellion that inspired me to wear my boots under my gown. And nothing else but underwear.
We hummed happily and sipped our cocoa, watching the campground darken outside the range of our firelight.
“Uh… Excuse me… Pardon me… Not to intrude, but would you kind people have a cup of that you could spare?” a voice asked out of the darkness. I was startled. Misty was startled. Roadkill was asleep. Good guard dog. Not.
A kind of scarecrow-looking guy was standing at the edge of our campsite, looking longingly at our cocoa. By scarecrow, I don’t mean tall and skinny. That’s me, remember? I mean he had kind of ragged clothes on, a straw hat, and an old flannel shirt that looked like he’d slept in it under a pile of dead pine needles. He had kind of straw-colored hair sticking out under the hat in all directions. He was leaning on a walking stick almost as tall as he was and had a backpack on. Misty recovered first.
“Got a cup in your kit?” she asked. “We can spare a packet of cocoa and hot water.”
He swung the pack off his back and detached a tin cup from the side of it. This he handed to Misty and then dragged his pack closer to the fire so he could sit on it. Misty prepared his cocoa and handed it to him, then picked up her own cup and started to sip.
“Thank you. Thank you kindly. Travelers need to help each other out,” he said. I listened carefully. His voice sounded more cultured than he looked.
“We have absolutely no idea what we’re doing out here,” I blurted out. “Nice to have company.”
“I haven’t much, but I’ve a little prime ganja I’d be willing to share.” He rummaged around in a side pocket of his pack and pulled out a baggy and a pack of papers. Misty and I just looked at each other with big eyes and grinned. A little weed would make our impromptu campout a lot more pleasant.
Now, it’s not like we’re big potheads. I mean that, really. That doesn’t mean we’ve never toked up a bit, though. It’s never really a bad thing, and a guy who’s high on weed is usually too mellow to be a threat. I didn’t see where he pulled his lighter from and didn’t see him put it away. He took a big drag and held the pinch out to me. I sucked in a bit and held it, passing the blunt on to Misty. She always gets to coughing on her first hit, but she sucked a second in and managed to hold that. She held it back out to Scarecrow, but he already had another in his hand and was lighting it up, so she handed it back to me. She had that same look of almost instant change of space I knew I got when I smoked. I sucked in another lungful of the potent weed.
“This is good shit,” I said, using as little of my stored breath as possible. He waved his arms around a little and ended up pointing downriver.
“Got it down that way,” he said. “Traded some work for it.”
“What kind of work do you do?” I asked, weaving a little. I expected him to have been planting crops or something. Misty held up a burning twig and I lit the blunt again.
“Oh, you know. ’Bout the same as you, I ’spect. I fix stuff for people. Broken things, mostly,” he said.
“Like… uh… teapots?” Misty asked. I looked at her trying to figure out where that example had come from.
“I guess I could glue one together. Mostly, I fix people,” he answered. I nodded knowingly.
“Like setting bones?” I asked, remembering there just happened to be a doctor in the diner who looked like most everyone else. I took another hit. I was not high enough to understand what he was saying yet. Misty took it from me and had a nice long drag.
“Oh, no. You know. Like broken relationships, broken promises, broken homes. Basically, just try to fix broken people.” I needed another toke before I let that truly sink in. He must be like a psychiatrist or something.
“That seems like a noble calling,” I said, thinking about the fact that all I’d done since graduation was drive and kill a robber. “I seem to specialize more in breaking things.”
“No,” he drawled. We were all dragging out our words a bit. The smell of weed hung around us like the smoke from the campfire. “Well, maybe you break the peace now and then, but I can’t see you breaking anything valuable. We might fix different kinds of things, but I’d say you’re a Fixer, too.”
“Tell me more about that, please,” I said. I was fascinated by listening to him talk and found I didn’t want him to get up and leave just yet.
“That noble dog you have at your feet,” he said. “I’d say he was broken and alone when he found you. You gave him hope, friendship, food, and love. You gave him the ability to rise above his lowly station to become your faithful companion.”
“Not much of a guard dog,” I chuckled. “Let you walk right up to our fire.”
“He knew I was no threat. You see, here’s the thing. There are people in this world who are out of whack. They become obsessed with their own villainy. Some of them go so far as to deny the humanity of everyone but themselves. I can’t do anything about a person like that. He’s not just broken, he’s shattered. But you… You can give him peaceful rest. Take away his burdens and stop his madness. It’s your way of fixing things.”
“Kill ’em. I’m not sure I like that.” I hadn’t thought a whole lot about what motivated that nameless guy in the diner. Was he just a man who was broken beyond repair and I sent him on to his permanent rest? I didn’t want to dwell on that. It was killing the high.
“Well, a warrior needs to be prepared to go to war when the cause is just,” Scarecrow said. “You’ll find strange things that people need to be protected against. Things those people can’t protect themselves from. You’ll rise to the occasion and find a way. You, Miss Warrior Wizard, are the hope for hundreds of people you’ll meet on your journey. You’re a different kind of fixer than I am, but you fix things I can’t.” He stood and rinsed his cup under the pump.
“What do I do?” Misty giggled. Yeah, she giggles a lot when she gets high.
“Oh, that’s easy. You fix her,” he said. “And a fine cup of cocoa. Thank you kindly for that. It will keep me warm all night. May the road rise up to meet you and may you have a gentle breeze at your back. Something like that.” He shouldered his backpack and pulled a couple more blunts out of what looked like thin air and handed them to me. “You might need more later. Journey on.” He thumped away with his walking stick and disappeared into the night.
“What do you think that was all about?” I whispered. Misty moved her stool over closer to mine and leaned against me. She held the last of the first roll against my lips and managed to not burn me when she held the flame to it. I sucked the hot smoke into my lungs and she dropped the remains before it burned her fingers. We just sat there while the fire crackled and enjoyed the high, looking up into a star-filled sky.
“There’s so many stories in the stars,” she sighed. “Heroes and legends and tall tales. We just met one of them and he got us high and left us dry. I’m just a speck among the stars sent here to be your fixer.” She started giggling again and I joined her. We scuffed out the fire and poured another pot of water on the coals, then crawled into our tent. She’d arranged everything inside the tent with our packs on either side of the door, a place for us to put our shoes, and our sleeping bags laying open with one on top of the other.
“We sleeping in the same bedroll?” I asked stupidly.
“Somebody’s got to keep me warm.” She pulled her clothes off and crawled under the covers. Roadkill came in and lay down across the entrance to the tent. I zipped it up in case there were bugs flying around in the night. I slipped off the gown and the stupid mortarboard. Set my boots aside and crawled in with her. She was right. The body heat with both of us under the cover was pleasant and we’d be asleep before long. I went over all the strange events of the day. I thought it was going to be a normal high school graduation day. Instead, I heard a mysterious voice while the stadium seemed frozen in place, I was given my grandfather’s prize ’68 Fairlane, my aunt hopped in the car with me and my dog, and we took off on a road trip following an antique map that suddenly appeared in my diploma folder. Then we stopped a robbery, I killed a man with my mortarboard, we found a campsite where none had been marked on the map before, and a strange scarecrow of a man sits down with us and shares a smoke. And weird stories I was sure I was supposed to understand more of than I did.
“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” I whispered.
“Hon, we were never in Kansas,” Misty giggled. “But I think you’re right. I think the minute we got in that car, we went off to a different world,” she said. It was my turn to giggle.
“You been reading that Hobbit stuff again? Or Harry Potter? Maybe we should light another joint.”
“I’m bein’ straight forward honest about this as I see it,” she insisted. “Pop gives you a car he’s had for fifty-three years. Just hands you the keys and says, ‘Bye-bye.’ We take off and you’ve got a TripTik in your diploma folder—no diploma, I noticed. Every time we want something, it’s suddenly marked on the TripTik where we should get it.”
“Yeah. I see where you’re going with this,” I said. “We stop at a diner and everything looks normal except they let Roadkill in and feed him right alongside of us. Then a guy tries to rob the place and shoots the cashier, so I kill him with my cap. And everyone acts like that’s all normal. They give me his wallet and gun. A doctor happens to be there and says the cashier will be fine. A sexy waitress cleans the blood off my mortarboard, which shows no sign of having been used to kill someone, and puts it back on my head. Then they give us our meal for free, including packing us a to go bag for breakfast. We just walk out and get in our car and everybody waves like we’re some kind of heroes.”
“You. Like you are the hero, my sweet niece. But listen. It gets better. Just when we decide we need to stop someplace for the night, the TripTik points us to this campsite that’s marked with your varsity letter. Then we discover the car is packed with everything we need to make camp.”
“Oh, wait. Wait. You forgot the part about me getting scared half out of my wits by a snake in the toilet.”
“It was in the toilet? I thought…”
“Okay. I imagined it was in the toilet. It was really in front of the door,” I sighed. “And then we sit down for a nice cup of cocoa in front of our little fire when a fixer-upper shows up. He trades a cup of chocolate for a couple of MaryJanes. And tells me I’m a fixer, too, but some other kind.” I yawned, certain I was about to drift off to sleep, but we had something important we were supposed to get to. “It’s all a bunch of strange stuff that combined to make a strange day. But nothing that couldn’t possibly be explained away with a little logic and reasoning. Like the robber might have just been scared when I threw my hat at him and they tossed him in a dumpster to teach him a lesson. And that we just missed a turn-off into town at the bridge that was lit because we were too obsessed with scaring ourselves with stories of trolls. It’s all simple stuff. There’s no otherworld stuff going on.”
“Do you know how many coincidences have to be stacked up on top of each other to equal the load of bullshit you just dished out?” Misty asked. “You read that philosophy book in school, just like I did. The simplest answer, no matter how improbable, is usually the right one. It happened when we got in the car and started it up. We were moved into an alternate universe in which all these things make sense. Put an arm around me. I’m still cold.”
I wrapped an arm over her and we stopped talking. The thing about weed, though, is that after the initial high and talking and everything, I end up lying there waiting for it to be over. Like, okay, I’ve had enough of this now. I’m ready to not be high anymore. Okay?
Misty was asleep a long time before me as I kept going over and over all the things that happened and tried not to agree with her conclusion. I failed as I finally fell asleep.
Chapter 3
Thunder Mountain
When we finally crawled out of our sleeping bag in the morning, it was only because Roadkill was whining at the tent flap and I was afraid he’d claw at it. I looked out and couldn’t see anyone else in the campground, so I stepped out of the tent and stretched, trying to get rid of the weed hangover. What a weird night! Well, all day, really. I grabbed what was left of the tinder and wood I cut up the night before and started up a fire. I figured since we had a coffeepot there must be coffee in the supplies somewhere. As soon as the wood was lit and burning, I pulled on my gown, grabbed my towel, and headed for the washroom. Dumb of me to go barefoot, but I didn’t trip on anything or step on any broken glass, so I figured it was okay. I did look around the entire latrine and shower area, though, carefully checking to be sure there were no creepy crawlies hanging around.
I started the shower running and it actually felt good and hot and washed away a lot of my pot hangover. I lathered my hair and washed my body, never even wondering where the shampoo had come from. It just felt good to rinse the sweat and smoke off me and feel like a human being again.
I looked critically at my sports bra and court pants and they seemed clean enough. Maybe my standards were failing me. I put ’em on and then donned my robe again, tying it shut like a bathrobe with the light blue cord instead of zipping it up. Outside, Roadkill startled me, prowling around. I caught myself before I screamed. The good dog was just doing his job, protecting me. I rubbed his ears and we headed back to campsite 33.
As soon as I got back, Misty brushed past me on her way to the washroom. “Watch the coffeepot,” she instructed. “It should perk about five minutes, I think. If it’s too weak or too strong, we’ll know to change things next time.” She had her skirt and shirt on and grabbed her towel. I nodded to Roadkill and he followed her down the path, watching out for her while she showered. Good dog. I started packing up the tent after I got my boots on again. I got everything folded and ready to stow, but I decided to wait for Misty to load it. She’s a genius at packing stuff up. And I did manage to get the coffeepot off the flames somewhere around five minutes later. Maybe ten. I’m not sure. I poured a cup of it.
“Hey, this coffee isn’t bad,” I said as Misty and Roadkill came back to camp. “Let me get you a cup.”
“Oh, yeah,” she said taking her first sip. “That’ll do nicely. Hey! The diner packed us breakfast. The bag’s in the front seat.”
“That’s too bad. We probably should have put it in the cooler. I forgot all about it.”
Misty retrieved the bag and looked into it suspiciously. She pulled out a paper carryout container and gently opened it, as if something might pop out of it. Then she sniffed and grinned at me. She handed me the box and pulled the second one out of the bag.
I looked in the box she handed me and found a hot, steaming breakfast of biscuits, sausage, eggs, and gravy. I mean it was steaming like they just took it off the grill. She had one just like it. There was even a box in the bag for Roadkill, too. Misty handed me a fork and grinned at me.
“Don’t say it,” I commanded. “I don’t believe in magic. It must be some new kind of food container that holds the heat. Mmm. Dang, this is yummy.” The food tasted like it just came off the grill.
“Uh-huh,” Misty said.
“Okay!” I yelled to the campground. “I admit I’m not sane and am experiencing a lucid dream or a drug-induced hallucination or something.” I turned to Misty who was still smirking at me. “It’s either that or admit we’re in a different reality than the one I knew. Whichever, I’m just glad you’re here with me.”
“Oh? You aren’t going to confess to kidnapping me from my planet and making me your helpless slave?” she asked, blinking her eyelids at me innocently.
“Well, that’s appealing, too. Just make up whatever wild-ass story you want and I’ll agree to it. Nothing makes sense anymore.” I gulped down more of the coffee and wondered at how good it was. “The question is, why are we here?”
“Oh, that’s easy. To fight for truth, justice, and the American way.” I guess the way she was standing with her carry-out box in one hand and her fork raised like a torch was supposed to be some heroic pose.
“This is the voyage of the Fairlane 500. Its five-year mission: To explore strange new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilizations; to boldly go where no teenage Warrior Wizard has gone before!” I declared.
“Let the adventure commence. The road beckons. The journey is ahead,” Misty joined.
“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” I answered as we packed our belongings.
“One ring to rule them all!” Misty declared. I looked at her and snorted.
“To infinity and beyond!” I said, starting the car. I checked the back seat to be sure Roadkill had made it into the car. He was already asleep. “Where to, Miss GPS?” I asked. She scrambled to get the TripTik out and locate our campsite.
“It says that way, along the river road. Looks like it could be a long trip.”
Mile 188
It was around an hour later that we were nearly shaken off the road by a crack of thunder. It was so loud and shook the car so much that I pulled over and got out to look at the tires, thinking I’d blown one. It was quickly obvious that a storm was coming in like nothing I’d ever seen before. I jumped back in the car.
“We need to find shelter!” I yelled as I put the car in gear. Misty scrambled to open the TripTik and pointed ahead.
“On the right just ahead.”
I tried to figure out where she was pointing. The only thing I could see was an old barn off the road a ways. Then I saw the sign that said ‘Treaty Shelter,’ and pointed right at the barn.
“That’s it?” I said. I pulled into a dirt lane that I was sure would be running with mud. When we reached the open barn door, I turned around and backed in. I wasn’t going to risk needing to turn around in order to get out. We got hit with a few huge drops of rain as we pulled in. I shut down and leaned my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes a second. “Sure hope this is safer than being out there,” I sighed. I felt things getting darker and opened my eyes to see the barn doors closing. A guy wearing buckskins was pushing from one side. I jumped out of the car and shouted. “Hey!” Roadkill was out beside me in an instant. “You’re shutting us in!”
“Don’t want the doors open while the storm is out there,” a guy on the other side of me said. I jumped and turned to see a grizzled old farmer with a straw hat and bib overalls pushing the other side door closed. In a second, the last of the outside light disappeared. Misty popped out of the passenger side of the car.
“Is it safe?” she called. Not that I could be in time to save her if it wasn’t. I needed to talk to her about not taking such huge risks. The farmer went back to the side of the door and fiddled with some panel until a few lights came on in the barn. That made me feel a little better. Until I looked around.
The barn was huge inside. I didn’t think it was anywhere near that big from the outside. And it was full. I don’t mean full of people, though there were quite a few. The barn was full of animals. They each kept to their own little space, but none seemed upset by the others. For example, there were a dozen or more rabbits off to the right and three foxes curled up asleep about eight feet away. I did a quick inventory and saw deer, wolves, rabbits, foxes, mice, badgers, elk, wild cats, and a black bear, as well as a dozen of what I had to assume were people, though a bit shorter than average. I’m tall, but these were shorter than Misty by a good bit. I thought at first, they must be children.
“This is a treaty shelter,” the man in buckskins said to Misty. Tall, tan, and good looking. And, of course, drawn to Misty like a fly to shit. “Everyone is safe here during the waking of Thunder Mountain.”
“Thunder Mountain?” I said to the old farmer next to me. “Isn’t that a train ride at Disney?”
“Can’t rightly say,” the old man answered. “Folks here call it that because of the storms that come up all of a sudden. Getting caught out in one could kill you. That’s why we have treaty shelters like this one. Everybody’s safe and harmless while they’re in the shelter.”
“Wow!” Roadkill was sniffing around, but seemed to understand that there was no prey here for him. A rabbit was standing on its hind legs as if it were talking to him.
“Watch out over there, though,” the farmer pointed toward a dark corner where shapes were moving on the floor. “We don’t usually allow their kind around here, but once they’re inside, we have to abide by the rules. Just never sure if they will. Snakes don’t live by the same rules as other creatures.”
“Jackie, this is Hunter,” Misty said as she dragged the handsome guy in buckskins over to us. “Hunter, this is Jackie. She’s the reason we’re here.” Got thrown under the bus with that one, didn’t I? I realized I didn’t know the farmer’s name.
“Mister? I’m Jackie,” I said turning toward him.
“Honor to meetcha,” he said. “I’m Amos McCoy. I’m kind of the head of this clan.” He waved over to where the other people were gathered, settling in as if they planned on a long stay. They even had a couple of tents they set up at one side of the barn. I almost started humming the theme song for an old TV comedy.
Grandpappy Amos, the head of the clan—
Roars like a lion but he’s gentle as a lamb…
“Well, we’ll be outta your hair as soon as the storm passes over,” I said.
“Might as well settle in. Soonest will be early tomorrow morning. Could be two or three days by the time waters recede enough to drive out.”
“Two or three days?” I exclaimed.
“You got somewhere we need to be, Hon?” Misty asked. She was still looking longingly toward Hunter, who had gone to join yet another group I hadn’t noticed. The more I looked around, the more I saw in the dim light. Deer fawns and wolf pups lay down together with a cougar cub. It was downright biblical. In the back of the barn, domestic animals gathered—pigs, cows, sheep, chickens, horses. I was sure I saw a few llamas. The barn seemed to go on forever.
“We have a common fire pit for the humans and animals that prefer it or need it to cook,” Amos said. “You’re welcome to pitch a tent nearby.”
We opened the back of the Fairlane and pulled out camping gear to set up at the back of the car.
“Do we even have food?” I asked my aunt.
“We’ve never opened the cooler,” Misty said. “Might be a good time to look before we have to go back and throw ourselves on the mercy of Hunter’s clan.”
“What, not Amos?” I snickered.
“Look at him!” Misty said. “Have you ever seen a man more perfect?”
“No. If that’s your cup of tea, have at it,” I said, shaking my head. I really couldn’t blame Misty for the instant infatuation. He was handsome. He just looked like too much work to me. We repositioned things and opened the cooler—and stood staring at it.
“I’d say we’re in good shape for a couple of days, at least,” Misty squeaked. “It looks like Mam unloaded her entire freezer into the cooler, including all the prepared casseroles she put up.” We pulled one out of the cooler that looked like it would feed the two of us. Hopefully, it would thaw before time to cook. We’d figure out a way to heat it when it was closer to dinner. We set up the tent and threw our bedrolls in it with our packs and then unfolded our campstools to sit and wait out the storm. There was plenty more thunder that rattled the old barn and a few children huddled closer to their mothers—both human and wildlife. Misty set a pot of coffee on the fire and we waited for the smell of fresh coffee to tell us it was ready. Then we just sat there staring around us at what it must have been like on Noah’s Ark. Heck, maybe we were on Noah’s Ark and when we come to rest after the storms it will be against some mountain in a foreign land.
As we were sitting there, a golden red spotted tabby cat jumped up in Misty’s lap, eliciting a little gasp as it’s needle-like claws got purchase on her bare legs. Roadkill raised his nose to sniff at the little bugger and then went back to lying on my feet. I could hear the rumble of the cat’s purr as Misty stroked it.
A little kid approached us and just stared intently at my graduation regalia. I reckoned I should probably put regular clothes on, but this was like running around in my bathrobe and was really comfy. He pointed at the varsity letter.
“Were you in a lot of battles?” he asked. A couple more kids got up close to listen.
“Well, if you mean contests or games, yeah, I guess so. There’s twenty to twenty-five in a season and I played four seasons. These little patches underneath are for the seasons I played in that sport. Four basketballs,” I said pointing at the flaming emblems. “Four track seasons.” The patches were a pair of track shoes with wings. “Three softball.” I pointed to the bats with a ball flying off the end. “And four volleyball.” The volleyball coach had no imagination and the emblems were just of balls. I couldn’t point out any official school emblems for my participation in disk golf. And I could only play intramural soccer because it conflicted with volleyball.
The kids sat down at my feet and absently started scratching Roadkill’s ears. I guessed they wanted to know more. The first kid affirmed that.
“Did you slay any giants?” he asked.
“Well, now that you mention it… I’m a pretty big girl myself. There aren’t that many that stand above me. But we played the Cornwall Giants in the last contest of the tournament this year, there was a girl who stood over seven feet tall. And just a freshman. That poor girl probably never will get a date,” I said. The kids just gasped at the description. “It was the last few seconds of the game and we led by just a point. It was a hard-fought battle. They got the ball to their giant under the net and I thought it was all over. But I gave it everything I had and when she went for the layup, I jumped and smashed the ball right back in her face. I felt kind of bad about breaking her nose and she bled all over, but we won the game and I got the trophy.”
“Wow!” the kids all said.
“I want to be a Warrior Wizard,” the little boy said.
“Study hard in school, eat your vegetables, and grow up strong,” I said. “I’m sure you can become anything you want to be.”
After a couple more stories, the kids wandered off playing some complicated game where there were good guys and bad guys who had a big battle. As far as I could tell there were no rules but they had to freeze like a statue if they were tagged unless one of their teammates tagged them back to life. Several animals ran and jumped around with them.
I looked over at Misty and I guess she found the one thing in the treaty shelter that could get her mind off Hunter. The cat was purring up a storm and Misty was sound asleep where she sat.
We joined several other women and a couple of men at the campfire when it looked like folks were getting ready to cook dinner. We tossed our lasagna in a frying pan and let it heat as the others chatted and prepared food. When all the food was ready, Misty and I started to dip a scoop of lasagna onto our plates and it was quickly followed by all the others plopping a scoop of whatever they’d made onto our plates. We responded by putting a spoonful of lasagna onto any plate that was held out. By some miracle, the last plate held out got the last scoop.
We’d stumbled onto a potluck dinner and I was happy for all the food we’d been given, though I couldn’t identify what some of it was. I fed some scraps to Roadkill to supplement his kibble. I saw Misty feeding the cat from her plate. She’d also managed to get Hunter seated next to her and with him sitting cross-legged on the dirt floor and her on her campstool, it almost looked like he was her pet as well. I half expected her to feed him scraps off her plate. I chuckled, wondering when Misty would ask if she could keep him. I resigned myself to sleeping alone for the night.
One of the women in Hunter’s tribe had a guitar and played some old folksongs that everyone could sing along with. Then I got the surprise of my life when she broke out into “The Ballad of the Warrior Wizard,” which she apparently made up most of as she went. But there was a chorus that everyone seemed to know and joined in on, much to my embarrassment.
Horns sound her coming, blare her name
“Make way the Warrior! Cheer!”
Drums beat a rhythm, let villains beware
The Warrior Wizard is here!
When I was ready to crawl into our tent for the night, I found Misty in her nightshirt in the tent. She was attacking her hair with a brush as if it deserved to be punished for something.
“You okay, sweetie?” I asked.
“Grr. That no good handsome hunk of a cheater,” she growled. “He’s married! He took me back to his tent and nicely invited me in to meet his wife. And they expected me to stay with them!”
“Well, that sounds like it has possibilities,” I laughed.
“Not for me! I’m not into any polygamous marriages or to being a mistress or a concubine or whatever they call these things out here in Neverland. Sorry, but you’re stuck with me.”
I couldn’t help myself. I rushed to her and wrapped her in my arms, giving her a big squeeze. She cleared her throat and I let her go kind of quick like.
“I’m just glad you’re still with me,” I said. “I was afraid it was going to be just me and Roadkill moving on.”
“I wouldn’t have abandoned you,” Misty sighed. “It was just a fantasy.”
We crawled into our bedroll. Roadkill took up his position across the entrance and I started to zip up the tent. A golden red spotted ball of fluff came bounding through the opening just before it closed, stepping on Roadkill’s nose. He had a little bark, but settled back down to sleep. I slid into the bedroll to find a cat taking up space between Misty and me. She was petting it and it was purring up as much thunder as there had been outside. I chuckled and went to sleep.
That was short-lived. I don’t think I’d been asleep an hour when I heard a woman yelling, “Lukey! Lukey! Where did Little Luke go off to? Grandpappy! Luke is gone. Where is he?” There was genuine panic in her voice as I could well imagine there might be. The barn was full of wild animals, including a corner full of snakes. Not to mention the wolves, bear, and wild cats. I unzipped the tent and stepped out with Roadkill when Misty caught my ankle.
“Here! You better put this on,” she said, handing me my robe. Well, dang! I’d stepped out of the tent in my underwear. I grabbed the robe and pulled it on, wrapping the light blue cord around my waist. I needn’t have worried since most of the people gathering around were just coming from bed in various stages of undress.
“Now when did Little Luke go missing?” Amos demanded.
“I was just checking on all the children,” the woman said. “He wasn’t in his bedroll and I checked all the others. We have to search everywhere!”
“Well, we know he’s safe here in the treaty shelter.”
“But there are animals…”
“The treaty has never been broken,” Amos insisted.
“He isn’t in the barn,” a small and frightened voice said. We all turned to the little girl who grabbed onto what I assumed was her mother’s nightgown.
“What is it, Hassie? Where is Luke?”
“He made me promise not to tell.”
“Mothers override promises,” the woman said. “If you know where Luke has gone, you need to tell us right away. He could be in danger.”
“He said he was going to slay the thunder monster and become a Warrior Wizard,” the little girl said.
“How did he get out?”
“Through the slat in the toilet stall.”
I’d been back to the toilet stall. It was really nothing but a hole in the floor that you squat over. It also let more of the rain in than the rest of the barn, which kept the floor washed down. We all headed back there to take a look. Indeed, there was a loose board that could possibly let a person through. But certainly not the hunk that was Hunter. He tried, but the rest of the boards were secure.
“We’ll have to go out the big doors,” I said.
“Can’t,” Amos declared. “When the doors are opened the treaty comes to an end. The animals can’t go out in this weather.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said. I ran to the car and grabbed the big flashlight from under the seat. I pulled my boots on and tied them quickly. When I turned to head back, Misty slammed my stupid mortarboard onto my head.
“Take the hatchet, too. You never know what you might meet out there.”
“Thanks, hon,” I said; accepting the hatchet I shoved it through my rope belt.
“Come back to me,” she answered.
I ran back to the stall and people stood around waiting while I wiggled my way between the boards. Don’t know if it was good I was so skinny or bad.
The wind and rain were fierce. I turned on the high beam of the LED flashlight and started to flash it around. Which way would a small boy go when he was faced with this kind of rain and wind? He said he was going to slay the thunder monster. This was Thunder Mountain. He’d head uphill.
I turned my face into the rain and took a few steps, nearly blown back to the barn. A little kid like that could have been blown to kingdom come in this gale. I kept scanning the area with my light as I fought my way uphill. There was a muddy area that I slipped on and saw a small shoe stuck in the mud. I was on the right track.
I wondered what Little Luke had taken as a weapon to slay the monster. He was maybe five or six years old. What would he even have?
I didn’t have to wonder long. I caught a glint of steel in my light and focused on it. As I came nearer, I saw that Lukey had armed himself at the cookfire. He had an aluminum pot on his head and a small iron skillet in his hand. He was backed up against a tree and as I approached nearer, I saw he was intent on something in the grass. I looked where he was looking and there was a small army of snakes slithering toward him.
Damn! It! I hate snakes in the best of weather. In this weather, with them closing in on a frightened boy, I really despised them. I scanned the ground to make sure there were none in my path to reach him and approached from just behind. I was just in time to see a dark snake rise up from the grass and strike at the boy. I didn’t have time to think. I just grabbed one of the cords from around my neck and snapped it at the snake like a bullwhip. By some miracle, the snake strike hit the iron skillet Luke was holding. It stunned it just long enough for my cord to wrap its neck and snap it. The crack was echoed by distant thunder.
If you’ve ever wondered, by the way, the crack of a whip is caused by the loop traveling along the whip gaining speed until it breaks the speed of sound and creates a sonic boom. At that speed, even a light braided cord will do serious damage to a snake. It writhed on the ground, but without a head, the death throes were brief. The other snakes turned toward me and I cracked the cord again. They dropped to the ground and slithered away in the rain.
I tossed the cord around my neck and grabbed Luke. I don’t know what inspired me, but I bent and picked up the headless carcass. We headed downhill, retracing as well as I could, the path I’d taken from the barn. We even stopped to grab his missing shoe.
Squeezing in through the gap in the boards was harder than getting out because we were both soaked to the bone. Inside there was a lot of screaming and dancing around. I just stumbled to the fire and tried to get warm.
Chapter 4
Puss ’n’ Og
I was almost too exhausted to care when I finally huddled over the fire. Suddenly, Misty was there beside me, scrubbing at my hair with a towel while she simultaneously managed to get my cap and gown off. Might have had help with that. I don’t know. I took the towel and kept drying myself as she removed my boots, sports bra, and court pants. I was about to complain when a blanket was wrapped around me and I sat shivering on a campstool. I saw that Luke was undergoing much the same treatment across the fire from me. I spotted Hunter and called him to me.