1

 

 

The infrared viewer swung across the street from Central High to the brick hardware store before gliding down to the bus stop. Two teenage boys on a bench, one lanky, the other more solidly built, appeared as masses of swirling bright reds and yellows. Around them swam cooler dark greens and blues.

   The army corporal lowered the viewer and glanced at another soldier standing next to the jeep. He nodded, and the soldier spoke into his radio.

 

 

   Dave barely listened as Sidney yammered on beside him. He snapped another toothpick in half and dropped it to the sidewalk where it landed in a pile, taking shape, like a grass hut. Maybe I'll set it on fire, he thought, when the school bell rings. A miniature bonfire celebrating another day of cutting class and not listening to those teachers drone on like Sidney is now. Sidney, full of himself and his new jacket with all the auto racing patches.

   "You start out in amateur drag or oval, then work your way to semi-pro, get sponsors. I'm practically there now at the Raceway."

   Dave smiled. "Sid, you work at the concession stand."

   "That's your problem, Dave. Always getting technical."

   "You sell corn dogs!"

   "Picky, picky," Sidney said. "Always stuck in the particulars."

   "Do you or don't you?"

   "Senior year's almost over and what have you done?  You got a chance to learn carpentry from your dad, and you break toothpicks."

   "It's all bullshit."

   "P.M.A. Positive mental attitude. That's what you need."

   "You sell sodas and corn dogs at the Raceway, not drive cars. Admit it!"

   "You got to have a goal."

   "Admit it, that's all!" Dave pressed. "Just admit it!"

   Sidney glared at Dave. "Yeah, so?  I sell sodas. You got to start somewhere."  He looked away. "Ever since Sarah died you've been negative, a big nothing."

   Dave clutched Sidney's shoulder. "Don't talk about Sarah!"

   Sidney jerked his arm away. "If I wanted someone to rag on me, I'd stay home."

   "Yeah?" Dave said.

   "Yeah."

   They sat in silence for a moment. "Sorry," Dave said finally. "Sorry."

   "I got a big mouth."  Sidney squinted, holding his hand above his eyes to shield out the sunlight. "There's another soldier pointing one of those things at us."

   Dave looked down the street. Three soldiers stood near an army jeep parked in front of Axelrod's Drugstore. One of the soldiers had what looked like binoculars trained on the boys.

   "Smile for the camera," Dave said. He threw his arm around Sidney's bony shoulders and they both flashed enormous artificial grins.

   "Cheeser!" Sidney shouted.

   The soldier lowered his viewer and climbed into the jeep.

   "Why are they snooping around off the base all the sudden?" Dave asked.

   "Who cares?" Sidney pointed to the school. "Check it out."

   Seven cheerleaders ran onto the school lawn, swinging pom-poms. The school bell rang and students flooded out of the building.

   Dave stood up. "How about a burger?"

   "Homework first," Sidney said, engrossed by the cheerleaders.

   Dave sat back down, pulled out his wallet and casually looked through it. He took out a strip of four photographs from a coin-operated photo booth. The shots showed poses of a teenage girl with short, sandy hair kissing Dave tenderly on the cheek. In each frame Dave's eyes were closed as he smiled blissfully.

   "Dave?" Sidney asked. "What do you want?"

   "I hate that game, Sid."

   "What do you want?"

   "What do you want?" Dave asked. The cheerleaders did a cancan routine, kicking high, unwittingly giving Sidney a show.

   "A red Corvette and a fine cheerleader with long blonde hair. What do you want?"

   "I want this day to be over," Dave said. "What do you want?"

   Now the girls, with their backs to Sidney, bent down and touched their ankles, wiggling their rumps. Sidney was enthralled. "A red Corvette and a fine cheerleader with long blonde hair. What do you want?"

   "You just said that!"

   "That's what I want," Sidney said.  "I can't help it. What do you want?"

   "I want to be as far away from this town as I can get. What do you want?"

   "A blue Mustang and a fine cheerleader with short brown hair."

   "Oh, man."

   "It's totally different. What do you want?"

   Dave looked at the photo strip.

   "What do you want?" Sidney asked again.

   "I want Sarah," Dave said softly. "I want Sarah to be alive."

 

 

   In the alley behind the bus stop a striking, olive-skinned young woman knelt, peering fearfully around the corner at Dave and Sidney. Abundant black hair tumbled past her shoulders. She watched them intently, then suddenly looked down the street, startled. She trembled and slowly moved backward, crouching behind a dumpster.

 

   "Yeah," Sidney said. "Not like it's your fault. Damn drunk driver came out of nowhere."

   Dave was lost in reverie. "I want her to come walking up and say, 'Where ya been hiding?' like she used to. Then we'd kiss. Then I'd buy her a burger."  Dave smiled at Sidney.

   The jeep screeched to a halt in front of them. Three soldiers leaped from the vehicle and rushed the two boys, taking them off guard. One of the soldiers shoved Sidney from the bench, grabbing him from behind and throwing an arm around his neck.

   Dave instinctively lashed out with a punch, grazing the corporal's cheek, but the momentum of the blow caused the boy to fall forward. The corporal grasped Dave's arm and wrenched it up behind his back, sharp pain stabbing Dave's shoulder. Then he swung his other arm around Dave's throat and forced him into a choke-hold.

   Sidney stood still but Dave thrashed violently, nearly escaping the corporal's grip. The third soldier ran forward to help subdue Dave, and together they overpowered him.

   The soldiers quickly marched the boys into the alley, glancing around to make sure they weren't seen. The corporal slammed Dave against the dumpster.

   A cream-colored sedan slowly pulled in behind the jeep. The front door flew open and a soldier appeared, opening the rear door. A pudgy, balding officer stepped out, in full uniform, meticulously ironed and decorated, a pistol holstered at his hip. He looked at the corporal.

   "These the two that have been here all day?"

   "Yes sir, Major Block."

   "Wallets."

   The soldiers dug the wallets from the boys' back pockets and held them out to the major. He flipped them open and studied their driver's licenses. "David Armstrong. Sidney Gill."  He carefully placed the wallets on top of the dumpster.

   "They must have seen something," the major said, studying them. "Well, girls, just want to ask a question or two, then we'll let you get on your way."

   Dave struggled again. The corporal's choke-hold tightened.

   "Settle down, now," the major said with a smirk. "Don't have all day."  He nodded to the soldiers. They relaxed their holds on the boys, who gasped for air.

   "There," the major said, "nothing like a breath of fresh air. Now, simply wondering if you girls have seen anyone strange, you know, odd, today?"

   "No," Sidney whispered hoarsely.

   Dave glared at Major Block. "You grab us like this just to ask a question?"

   "Now, sweetheart," the major said, savagely grasping Dave's jaw, "just answer the question. Did you see anything unusual today?"

   Dave stared back. The major tightened his grip on Dave's jaw.

   "Yeah," Sidney said.

   The major turned, releasing his hold on Dave. "That's my girl!  Now, uh, Sidney, what did you see?"

   "I was sitting here minding my own business, the next thing I know I'm looking at this little fart in a major's uniform."

   The soldier clamped down on Sidney's throat.

   "Now, now, now!" the major flared. "Cooperation!  We need cooperation or things only get worse."

   As the major approached Sidney, a black Lincoln Town Car pulled up to the alley. The tinted rear window glided halfway down, although the passenger was still out of sight. Major Block scurried to the car and saluted. "General!" the major said, rigidly at attention.

   A deep voice rasped from inside the car. "Any luck, Major?"

   "We'll find it, sir."

   "If it's alive, it escapes too easily."

   "That's correct, sir," the major said.

   "Immediately disable it, for good. No more games."

   "Right, sir!"

   "Can you imagine how much stronger national security would be if we learned how to do it?"

   "Extraordinary, sir."

   "And what would happen if it fell into the hands of our enemies?"

   "Yes sir."

   "My ass is on the line if this leaks out. I'll take care of the press, but find it. If I go down, you go with me."

   "I understand, sir," Major Block said.

   "Would you like to make colonel, Major?"

   "Yes sir!"

   "Find it, then kill it."

   The window rose as the Town Car pulled away. Major Block strolled toward Sidney, reaching into his breast pocket. He took out a stun gun which he flicked on as he approached, the blue current jumping the gap with a crackle.

   The major positioned himself in front of Sidney and brought the stun gun to Sidney's face. As the arc of electricity neared Sidney's nose, his eyes widened in terror.

   "Consider this a lesson in respecting your elders," the major said.

   Suddenly Dave leaned back on the soldiers holding him and swung his leg up hard, kicking Major Block squarely in the crotch.

   The major stood for a moment, stunned, then bent forward as the pain in his groin blossomed. Groaning, he stumbled back against the brick wall, then slumped forward with his hands on his knees waiting for the throbbing agony to subside. He looked up at the boys, crazed, reaching for his pistol.

   "You just made a big mistake, mister," he gasped. "A big mistake!"

   "Sir!" the major's driver shouted from the sedan. "Just over the radio. In a warehouse near here. A transient suspected to be our target."

   "Get their I.D.'s!" the major ordered. "We'll take care of them later."

   He walked stiffly to the sedan and gingerly eased himself in as the soldiers picked up Dave and Sidney's wallets and removed their licenses. They shoved the boys to the ground, tossed the wallets at them and ran to the jeep. The jeep and sedan roared away.

   Shaken, Dave slowly rose, then helped Sidney to his feet. "Jerks," he said.

   They picked up their wallets. "That," Sidney said, "was the most insane thing I've ever seen."

 

 

   As Dave and Sidney walked toward the rusty pickup truck, the girl in the alley nervously eyed the photo strip of Sarah and Dave, forgotten on the ground.

   With a rush of courage she darted out, snatched the photo strip and raced back, collapsing behind the dumpster. She carefully examined it, cupping it gently in her trembling hands. With intensifying concentration she entered a trance-like state, looking at the photographs as her whole body shuddered, then began to glow.

 

 

   Dave swiveled the truck's rearview mirror toward himself and squinted at his cracked lip.

   "Maybe we should report this to somebody," Sidney said.

   "Who?"

   Sidney shrugged.

   "Let's just get out of here."

   Sidney started the pickup, revving the engine to overcome the sputtering, then clunked it into gear.

   Dave pivoted the mirror back toward Sidney, then froze, transfixed. "Wait a minute," he said.

   "What?" asked Sidney.

   Dave, stupefied, watched in the mirror as a girl approached the truck. His head turned as she came right up to his window.

   Sandy hair.

   It was Sarah.

   "Where ya been hiding?"  She smiled, then kissed him softly.

 

 

2

 

 

The waitress refilled the water glasses and disappeared into the diner's kitchen. Sidney and Dave stared at the girl across the table. She returned their gaze, smiling.

   "How could it be?" Dave asked.

   "Dave, this isn't Sarah," Sidney said. "Sarah's dead."

   "I just want to talk to her," Dave said softly.

   Sidney leaned forward and scowled at the girl. "What was Sarah's favorite ride at the fairgrounds?"

   The girl reached across the table and gently rested her hand on Dave's arm. A brief glow flared at the point of contact, unnoticed by the boys.

   "The Ferris wheel," the girl said. "It's fun seeing the whole town from up there, the lights."

   "Yeah," Dave said.

   "This is not possible," Sidney said. "Dave, I'm telling you-"

   Dave pointed at Sidney. "Shut up!"

   "Hey, it's your business."  Sidney jumped up from the booth. "I'm out of here."  He walked out the front door, not looking back.

   "Sarah," Dave said. "I don't understand what's happening."

   The girl touched Dave's arm once again.

   "I love you," she said.

 

 

   Dave and the girl gradually became aware of the silence in the restaurant and suddenly noticed they were alone. No other customers, no waitresses, complete silence except for the sizzle and crackle of frying food.

   Just then the rear door slammed shut and locked with a click.

   Dave and the girl looked out through the large front window. Five soldiers stepped into view, M-16 assault rifles held across their chests. Major Block stepped from behind them and raised a bullhorn.

   "All right!  Drop the burgers and come out with your hands up!"

   "Oh no," Dave said, standing. "It's that major. He's after me."

   "No. He's after me," the girl said, her voice trembling.

   "You!  You're the one they want?"

   She stood and hugged Dave tightly. "You have to get us away."

   "Me?  I can't get us away from the army."  He pulled back.

   "Of course you can," she pleaded. "In the alley, you hurt that man. They went away. You are a powerful being. That is why I chose you."

   "You chose me?"

   "You have ten seconds!" Major Block's voice rang out.

   Dave took the girl's hand and they walked slowly toward the door. "Your hand," he said. "It's so warm."

   "I'm scared, David."

   With a careful glance at her, he released her hand.

   "Remember when we were stopped at the top of that Ferris wheel?" he asked. "You would rock our seat and laugh. Be like that. Be brave."

   "I'll try."

   After a moment Dave said, "You never rocked our seat. You were too afraid. I rocked it once and you cried."

   "It's just I'm afraid now, and I don't remember."

   Dave looked steadily at her. "You're not Sarah."

   "I can be anything you want."

   He opened the front door and they stepped out into the bright sunlight. Everywhere they turned soldiers trained rifles on them.

   An armored van backed up to the curb in front of the diner. It had oversized truck tires and thick walls like a meat locker.

   Major Block stepped forward. "Young man," he said, "you come over here with me."  Then he pointed to the girl. "And you. You go in the back of the van, nice and easy."

   Dave and the girl stood, frozen.

   "Come on," Dave said, "or they'll kill us."

   The girl didn't move. "They'll kill us anyway."

   The van doors swung open, revealing a sterile interior. Inside, two men wearing surgical scrubs with black rubber aprons and gloves stood on either side of a stainless steel table which had restraints for wrists and ankles. The table, slightly concave, angled downward to function as a blood runoff into a tub below.

   There was no sound, no motion, as the soldiers watched Dave and the girl staring in horror at the steel table. Suddenly the silence was shattered as a shiny metal instrument clattered to the floor of the van.

   A bone saw.

   "My god," Dave said. "They're going to dissect you."

   Tires squealed. The old pickup truck barreled around the side of the diner. Two soldiers clung to the side of the truck, shouting at Sidney. The truck swerved out of control, bouncing over the curb and knocking the soldiers off. It crashed through the wooden benches, stopping right beside Dave and the girl.

   Sidney threw open the passenger door. "Time to rock!" he howled.

   Dave and the girl leaped in and they sped off, a thick cloud of smoke blanketing the soldiers. "After them!" Major Block barked, coughing violently. A dozen jeeps and army trucks raced after the pickup.

   Sidney pushed the truck to its limits, recklessly flying around corners, zig-zagging through the familiar back streets of his town, outdistancing their pursuers.

   "Go east!" Dave shouted above the whine of the engine. "We'll disappear in the industrial area!"

   Sidney drove with abandon, continuing to cut sharply down side streets. He snapped his head around and saw no other vehicles. "I think I lost them!"

   He whipped the truck out of a small side street and turned hard onto the main road, straight at four oncoming jeeps. The soldiers reacted instinctively, swerving to avoid a head-on collision. Sidney gripped the wheel tightly and drove straight ahead between two of the jeeps. Dave and the girl watched the soldiers' shocked expressions as they flew by.

   "We made it!" Sidney screamed. Just then the major's sedan appeared before the pickup. Sidney jerked the steering wheel to the right to avoid crashing, but the sedan clipped the rear of the pickup and spun it around, kicking up an immense amount of dust.

   The truck came to a standstill, idling. Dave and the girl had braced their arms against the dashboard.

   "Are you all right?" Sidney asked.

   "Is that your tire?" Dave pointed.

   They watched a truck tire roll by and slam into a telephone pole.

   Sidney looked annoyed. "I paid twenty bucks for that tire."

   He floored the accelerator and the truck moved shakily through the dust haze. He craned his neck out the side window, trying to determine which rear tire was missing.

   "Sid!" Dave yelled as Trudy reflexively covered her face. The jeeps had turned around and once again bore down on them. There was no time to react. One of the jeeps glanced against the truck and swerved into another jeep with a violent metallic crunch.

   The pickup wobbled forward, gathering momentum as it passed boarded-up warehouses and junkyards.

   "Damn," Dave said, flush with adrenaline.

   "Anyone behind us?" Sidney asked.

   Dave looked back. "No."

   "Good," Sidney said, as he brought the truck over a rise.

   A dozen police cars barricaded the intersection, lights flashing.

   Sidney braked and cut to the right toward an alley but the pickup careened sharply, pitching off the wheel missing the tire. It rolled twice, coming to rest right side up.

   Dust settled. The engine died. Everything was suddenly still.

   Sidney held his knee, grimacing.

   "Are you injured?" the girl asked.

   "I'll live."

   Dave looked around. "How come they're not doing anything?"

   Through the cracked windshield they saw the police standing by their cars, watching.

   "They're leaving us for the military," the girl said.

   "Yeah," said Sidney, "all part of the fun."  He tried to start the pickup. The starter cranked, but the engine wouldn't fire.

   "Here they come," the girl said.

   They looked back through the rear window and saw army jeeps approaching. Sidney frantically pumped the gas and tried the starter again. This time the engine coughed to life. He slammed it into gear and the battered pickup sputtered and lurched down the alley.

   The truck barely fit through the narrow lane, scraping back and forth against the concrete walls on either side, its steering destroyed. They reached a dead end at a tall brick wall and Sidney braked. Dave and the girl climbed out.

   "Come on, Sid," Dave called back, "we'll

go over the wall."

   "My leg's too banged up. I'll never make it."

   The jeeps now made their way single file down the alley, Major Block's damaged sedan leading the way. Dave tugged Sidney's sleeve.

   "Come on!  We'll help you."

   "No," Sidney said, "they want you two. They'll just hassle me a while. Get going."

   "All right," Dave said. He reached out and grasped Sidney's shoulder. "Take care of yourself."

   Sidney grinned wickedly. "Don't worry about me, my friend."

   Dave shut the door and he and the girl ran for the wall. Sidney shifted the pickup into reverse and floored it, chugging back down

the alley.

   In the sedan, Major Block panicked as the truck gathered speed. "Watch out!" he shouted, waving his arm at the driver.

   The pickup plowed into the front of the sedan with a smash, throwing the major against the side window. Shattered glass flew in every direction as the twisted wreckage of the two vehicles slowly ground to a halt.  Steam erupted from the sedan's grill. Smoldering flames licked the back of the truck.

   Soldiers swarmed over the sedan and dragged Sidney from the truck, cuffing his hands behind his back. "I know, I know!" he said. "Back to traffic school!"

 

 

   Dave worked fast, rolling a large metal dumpster against the wall. Far behind them a few soldiers moved with uncertainty in their direction. He climbed up the side of the dumpster and extended his hand down to the girl.

 

 

   A leather-faced man in a business suit and mirror sunglasses stepped forward, holding a narrow, leather-bound case. The major, pressing a bloodstained handkerchief to his head, looked up at him. "Morgan. It's about time. Take them out."

   Morgan snapped open the case and rapidly assembled a high-powered rifle with a scope. He slid two cartridges into the chamber, threw back the bolt and rested the rifle on the hood of the pickup, sighting it down the alley. The scope's cross hairs passed blurrily over a soldier's back, floated up the brick wall and settled on the girl standing on a dumpster.

   She looked back and a chill ran through him. It seemed as if they were making eye contact. She reached for the boy's hand. Morgan centered the cross hairs directly on the boy's chest. He thought he saw a flash of light in the scope as he began to squeeze the trigger. The rifle butt kicked against his shoulder.

   The sharp crack of the gunshot echoed in the alley. Morgan lowered the rifle and saw the soldiers around him staring in astonishment. Morgan looked down the alley at the dumpster.

   The boy and girl had vanished.

3

 

 

Dave held the girl tightly. Disoriented, he gazed in stunned silence at the lush tropical forest surrounding them. The foliage was yellow and varying shades of blue. Purple melon-like fruit dangled from white trees. Then Dave looked up and saw two suns and three moons.

   "Whoa!  What-"

   The girl put her fingers on Dave's lips, silencing him. She was frightened.

   "Tip-Kin cen sin," she whispered. "For-ney shutt. Delva-Tu-Ni."

   "I don't understand," Dave said. "Are we dead?"

   The girl kissed Dave hard on the mouth, their lips glowing briefly.

   "Now, on my world, you can understand."

   "On your world?" he said loudly.

   The girl winced, looking nervously around them. She took his hand and led him toward a path between two melon trees. Dave resisted, shaken.

   "We are on the Great Sphere of Delva-Tu-Ni," she explained. "Please."

   Dave stopped short and pulled his hand away. "Time out!"

   "We must go!" she said.

   "Where?"

   She pointed off. "There. My home."  In the distance orange-capped mountains towered over the stunning alien landscape. "My people, the People of Isra, on the Mountains of Orange," she said quietly.

   "No chance," Dave said firmly. "I want to go home. Now!"

   "But it is your wish, to get far from your town."

   "Yeah. I was thinking more like Seattle. Now take me home or I start yelling!"

   "You don't understand."

   "Take me home!  Take me home!" he chanted loudly. "Take me home!"

   "You can never go home!"

   "What?"

   "You would die."

   "What?" he asked again.

   "I can only bring us back to the exact time and place we left, on that wall. The bullet would kill you."

   Dave looked down at the ground, trying to keep himself under control.

   "Sarah, or whoever you are. I don't want to be with you. I want you to leave me alone. I want this bad dream to-"

   He looked up. The girl was gone.

   A branch cracked nearby. A pungent odor filled his nostrils. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as a tremendous growl shook the forest.

   Thirty yards away bushes parted as a creature appeared. It stood seven feet tall, its powerful ape-like body covered with thick red and gray striped fur. It looked directly at Dave and roared, baring long, jagged fangs.

   "Shit," Dave said, petrified. "Sarah?  Miss?"

   The creature growled again, beating its chest. It loped forward a few yards, then back.

   "Easy," Dave said, forcing a calm tone. "Easy now. Good doggie."

   Suddenly a second creature burst from the foliage, let out a chilling scream and charged Dave, who stood frozen in terror.

   The girl's voice snapped him from his trance. "David, run!  The Manku will kill you!"

   He darted toward her and they ran frantically down a dirt path, branches thrashing them. Behind them both Manku gave chase and, with enormous strides, steadily gained.

   Dave fell hard, sprawling out. The girl helped him to his feet and again they flew down the trail, the creatures now only steps behind. Dave and the girl veered sharply off the path and pushed headlong into a field of tall plants resembling red cornstalks. They crouched low as they bustled through, cutting randomly back and forth. They stopped abruptly, suppressing their heavy breathing, and listened. The sound of the Manku trampling the stalks grew faint.

   "We're okay now," Dave whispered.

   A Manku screamed behind them. Dave and the girl sprinted straight down a row of stalks and burst into a clearing.

   A clearing filled with Manku.

   The beasts loomed over Dave and the girl, snarling, massive arms raised to claw and bludgeon them. The girl's hand touched Dave's shoulder, glowed, and they were gone.

 

 

4

 

 

The bullet exploded an inch from Dave's head, annihilating a brick in the alley wall. Dave, standing on the trash bin, looked down the alley. Morgan adjusted the rifle slightly and squeezed the trigger again.

   Sidney broke loose from a soldier's grip and lunged against Morgan, causing the shot to discharge harmlessly in the air. Dave and the girl bolted over the wall.

   "That-a-way, Dave!" Sidney yelled as the soldiers threw him to the ground.

   A news camera focused on Sidney as a woman reporter holding a microphone began to speak. Sidney looked up at the camera and smiled broadly.

   "Cheeser!"

 

 

   A sunbeam cut through the darkness of the garage, casting shadows across a table saw and workbenches covered with clamps holding woodwork. Tools hung from a pegboard on the wall next to a stack of unfinished kitchen cabinets.

   John Armstrong leaned back on one of the workbenches, smoking a cigarette. He was in his forties, sinewy, wearing faded jeans and work shoes. He glanced up at a small black and white television. On the screen Sidney walked out of the alley in handcuffs, flanked by soldiers.

   As John brought the cigarette to his

lips, his hand shook. He heard the back door shut.

   "Dad?" Dave called out.

   He did not respond.

   Dave and the girl stepped into the garage. John looked at the girl, stunned.

   "My god," he said.

   "She's not Sarah," Dave said quickly. "Just looks like her."

   John turned angrily to Dave. "What the hell did you do?"

   "Nothing. I didn't do anything."

   "Right. You march down to the police station right now and own up to what you did."

   "It's all some kind of a mistake," Dave said. "They're after her, and I guess, now me."

   "Then it's her problem. Get rid of her."

   "That's bullshit," Dave said.

   "Bullshit?"  Dave's father laughed bitterly. "You're turning out dumb as a brick and not nearly as useful."

   "Well, screw you!" Dave cried out. "I don't need you!"

   Major Block's sedan screeched to a halt out front, followed by a jeep. Dave glanced toward the back door.

   John pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and slapped it into his son's hand. "Beat it out the back and make it to the church," he said.

   Dave and his father looked at each other awkwardly, emotionally.

   "Go on," John finally said.

   Dave and the girl dashed out the back as Major Block and two soldiers swung the garage door open. John stepped in front of the major. "You don't have a warrant."

   "Out of my way," the major said, grabbing John's arm to shove him aside.

   John slammed Major Block against a workbench and swung up a circular saw, holding it screaming an inch from the major's face. The soldiers approached.

   "Tell your boys not to come any closer," John said calmly, "unless you want to be a bookshelf."

   Major Block, suddenly drenched with sweat, felt the whir from the blade on his jaw. "Don't move!" he commanded his soldiers.

   The soldiers froze.

   "We'll be here a while," John said. "I hope you're comfortable."

 

 

5

 

 

President Marshall smiled warmly at the three men in dark suits and sunglasses. He set his pen down and leaned back in his chair. "What brings the Secret Service's finest to me this morning?"

   "We have come in search of the captive girl," said Agent Dexter, "the one from another world."

   "Captive girl?" the President asked,

puzzled.

   "As king of your world," Agent Rogers said, "you would know where she is being held."

   "King of my world?"

   The three men remained still. President Marshall frowned. "Is this some kind of damn joke?"  He reached toward his intercom.

   "Seize him!" the third agent commanded.

   Rogers and Dexter took hold of the President, who struggled futilely. They tied him with thick cord and jammed a gag in his mouth.

   Dexter placed his hand against the President's forehead, fingertips flaring briefly as he looked carefully into his eyes. He turned to the third agent.

   "I have entered his mind, Lord Sindar. He does not know the location of the princess. It appears she has broken free. If so, why does she not return to our world?"

   Sindar, chief advisor to the king of Isra, glowed and transmuted back to his true form. A brown and black leather robe laced with gold filigree wrapped his tall, thin frame. His eyes pierced the other men.

   "I have not the answer, loyal one," he said. "You two will now return."

   "But Lord Sindar, should you need our help-"

   "Return and prepare for the Great War. In the name of the king!"

   The agents transformed themselves back to their natural forms as soldiers of Isra,  wearing leather vests ornamented with copper.

   "In the name of the king!" they said in unison as they glowed and vanished.

   Lord Sindar, now alone with the bound President, squatted and looked at him curiously. President Marshall sat on the floor, his back against the wall, terrified.

   "Fools," Sindar laughed. "They willingly die for their king. I shall kindly grant them that opportunity."

   He rose and went to the President's desk, sitting in the leather chair. He stroked a photo of the President's family.

   "You are the king of your world," Sindar said to President Marshall. "Soon, after many years of preparation, I shall be king of mine."

   He sat up straight, leaning toward the President.

   "Only the Princess Truzena stands in my way;  however, I have limited her powers. She can only appear on your world, or among enemies on mine. Thus far she has eluded destruction. Time for me to intervene."

   Lord Sindar began to glow, to reconstruct physically. The President's eyes widened in horror. Sindar had become the exact image of President Marshall himself.

   Sindar ran a finger over his new face and laughed. "Don't worry, you shall remain alive for now. My phrasing of your speech is clumsy. You can tutor me. Besides, your body would start to rot."

   Sindar stood and strolled to a large globe. He spun it slowly, gazing at it, deep in thought.

   "This silly world of yours is full of these nuclear missiles," he finally said. "I shall set them in motion. The end of your world. A rockin' good time!"

   Lord Sindar crushed the globe between his hands.

 

 

6

 

 

The small room was dimly lit and cluttered. Two weathered sofas faced each other from opposite walls. A large school-style map dominated another wall. In the center of the room a battered radio and a box of cleaning supplies rested on an old wooden desk. One door led to the street behind the church, another to the minister's living quarters. The girl sat on a sofa.

   Dave stood over her. "Who the hell are you?"

   "I am Sarah for you," she said, looking up at him, pale. She rose and threw her arms around Dave, sobbing on his shoulder. "Please help me."

   Dave gently pushed her away. "Don't try that 'help me' stuff. You can help yourself just fine."

   A loud knock came from the front of the building. Dave went to the door, opened it slightly and peered out, then opened it all the way.

   Reverend Donald stood at the threshold. He nervously looked at the girl, then at Dave.

   "David," he said, panicked, "it's the police!"

   Another loud knock.

   Dave looked anxious. "Tell them you don't know anything about us."

   "I don't like this," the reverend said. "On the radio they say the town is quarantined. A virus. They say you and the girl have it."

   "No, no. They tried to shoot us."

   Reverend Donald breathed out heavily. "I'll think of something."

   Again the pounding came from the front door. The reverend quickly walked away. Dave left the door slightly ajar, peering through the gap between the door and doorjamb. He watched the clergyman whisk through the adjoining room and down the hallway toward the front door.

   "Coming!" Reverend Donald called out. "Can't a man get some sleep?  Hold on!"

   The minister opened the door on two soldiers. He greeted them, and upon recognizing one, warmly shook his hand.

   The girl peeked through the crack in the door.

   "We must run," she said.

   Dave grabbed her firmly from behind. She gasped as he swung the door open with his foot. They now stood in plain sight of the soldiers, who only had to turn to spot them.

   "You're not Sarah," whispered Dave. "They want to cut you up because you're some lying Martian freak."

   "No, please," she begged. "They'll kill you too."

   "Maybe," Dave said, pushing her forward. The soldiers chatted with Reverend Donald, backs turned to Dave and the girl.

   "I am not Sarah!"

   The girl glowed as she transformed back to her natural form.

   "My god!" Dave said. He closed the door quietly and stepped back, astounded. Sarah had become a young woman with dark skin and eyes, ample black hair cascading to her waist.

   "How do I know that's you?" he asked. "Maybe you're really some monster blob or something."  

      She sighed, then spoke slowly.

   "I am Princess Truzena. I am from the Great Sphere of Delva-Tu-Ni."

      "That place we went to?" he asked.

   "Yes. Delva-Tu-Ni. It means 'world of differences.'"

   "Those creatures?"

   "Manku," she said. "One of my people's many enemies. I am of the People of Isra. The people of change."

   "I guess so."

   Truzena looked calmly at Dave. "I am sorry for deceiving you, but it is how my people survive."

   "Your apology's not accepted."

   "Will you alert those men?"

   Dave walked to the door and opened it a crack. "No way," he said, watching the soldiers shake the minister's hand and leave. "We're okay for now." Dave closed the door and turned on the paint-splattered radio. He spun the knob and static gave way to a soothing saxophone melody. Truzena sat on a sofa. Dave sat on the sofa across from her.

   "It'll have some news sooner or later," he said. "We'll just wait for my dad. We can figure something out then."

   "David!"  Reverend Donald called.

   Dave ran to open the door.

   "They've left," the clergyman said. "They said if they don't find you tonight a thorough search is planned for daybreak. I christened one of their children. I don't like this at all."

   "Thank you, Reverend."

   "David."  The minister placed his hand on Dave's shoulder. "Your father's been arrested. I'm sorry."

   Reverend Donald left. Dave sat back down. He and Truzena stared at each other, overwrought. Truzena closed her eyes and whispered, "Tu silltz uun fair."

   "What does that mean?"

   She looked up at him. "It is a saying, it means 'we learn and grow strong from our struggles.'"

   "Well, I'm tired of learning and

growing strong."

   The girl chuckled.

   "Listen," Dave said, "we're splitting up."

   "Yes. You are no longer of service to me."

   After a moment he said, "You're finally being honest.  You just used me to save your life."

   "And I have saved yours." Truzena strolled to the wall map, every state a different color. "I'm leaving."

   "Oh, yeah?" Dave said. "Where're you going?"

   "I think, maybe, Seattle."

   "Seattle."  Dave laughed.

   The girl examined the map. "This is your world?"

   "It's just my country."  Dave chuckled and considered her for a moment. "Princess Truzena. But your friends just call you Trudy."

   "No. Princess Truzena."  She turned from the map. "How do I get out of this place?"

   "There's a railroad yard outside town. But you'll never make it. They have this whole place sealed."

   "I can change," she said. "You are the one who is trapped."

   "You don't know how things work here," he said. "You'll make a mistake."

   The music on the radio stopped abruptly, replaced by the voice of an announcer. Dave turned up the volume.

   "We interrupt this program for an emergency broadcast from the President of the United States."  Then the President spoke solemnly.

   "My fellow Americans. Today I bring you grave news. Renegade Russian military and Middle Eastern terrorist groups have joined forces to orchestrate a nuclear strike against the United States. Our military forces are at full alert. A preemptive strike may be imminent." Dave and Truzena could hear the assembled press corps gasp in astonishment. "This information is preliminary," the President continued. "That is all for now. I'll leave you with words of hope I once heard:  'Tu silltz uun fair.'  We learn and grow strong from our struggles. Thank you."

   Confused, Dave turned off the radio. "Those are the same words you used!"

   Truzena was speechless.

   "Trudy, are you all right?"

   "Yes," she said absently. "Yes, of course."

   Loud, forceful pounding came again from the front door. Dave and Trudy leaped to

their feet.

   Dave picked up the radio, then snatched a set of keys hanging from a nail. "Come on."

 

 

7

 

 

An old but well maintained station wagon stood in the street behind the church. Trudy and Dave got in quietly. Dave started the car and drove slowly to the end of the street, headlights off. He braked and looked onto the main road. Two army jeeps raced past.

   "We'll need luck to make it to the railroad yard," he finally said.

   Trudy unconsciously gripped Dave's hand. Dave glanced at her.

   "I'm going to need my hand to drive."

   Trudy let go. "I'm so sorry."

   "That's okay. It's just, I have to drive."

   The station wagon pulled onto the road. They drove cautiously to the edge of town, then took a dirt road cutting through a cornfield. A barbed wire fence appeared ahead, the railroad yard beyond. Dave stopped the car near the edge of the cornfield. In the darkness he could make out an army truck. Soldiers patrolled the fence.

   "You run with me when I say, okay?" Dave said.

   "Okay," Trudy said uncertainly.

   They got out of the car, which sat idling. Dave lifted a large rock and set it on the floorboard.

   "Sorry, Reverend," he said, flicking the headlights on and shoving the rock against the gas pedal. The engine raced as he turned the radio volume all the way up, blasting heavy metal. He closed the door, then reached in and jammed the stick shift into gear. The car lurched forward and rolled wildly through the cornfield.

   "Come on!"

   Trudy and Dave dashed toward the fence as soldiers trained flashlights on the runaway vehicle. It burst through the cornfield and crashed into a support post.

   Soldiers ran toward the car. An army helicopter thundered into view, hovering over the station wagon, its spotlight stabbing downward.

   Dave threw his jacket on the barbed wire and they clambered over undetected. They ran to a stationary boxcar and crawled under, then crossed from track to track toward the center of the yard. They heard footsteps approaching and lay quietly under the belly of a freight car. Two soldiers ran by, walkie-talkies blaring in their hands.

   Trudy and Dave darted across another track to a boxcar. Trucks screeched to a halt nearby. Dogs barked and bounded from the trucks as their masters shouted commands.

   "This way," Dave whispered.

   Dave pulled Trudy up into the boxcar. He gently slid the door shut, and they stood in pitch darkness.

   "Back, under the hay," he said.

   They burrowed into the musky hay and lay still just as a dog began barking outside the door. Other dogs soon joined in a deafening chorus of barking and growling.

   They heard a shuffling sound near them from inside the boxcar.

   Dave started. "Who's there?"

   A man's voice slurred. "The end of the world is coming. Say good-bye to your family and friends. Bye-bye."

   "Please be quiet!" Dave pleaded.

   "The end of the world is coming!"

   The boxcar door burst open with a metallic screech. German shepherds barked frantically as bright flashlight beams danced around the boxcar's interior. Trudy and Dave remained still under the hay.

   "Come on, old timer," a soldier said. "This train is pulling out."

   The soldiers removed the hobo. The men and dogs moved away into the night. Suddenly the boxcar jolted as the train began to move.

   "I think we finally made it," Dave said quietly.

   Trudy said nothing.

   "What's wrong?" he asked.

   She stared ahead impassively. "My people are here now. This is the end of your world."

 

 

8

 

 

The train rolled through wheatfields, brilliant golden sunlight falling over endless miles of fertile agricultural land.

   The rhythmic clackety-clack of the rails pounded hypnotically as the powerful locomotive pulled the long line of boxcars and flatcars loaded with cargo.

   Trudy and Dave sat with their legs hanging out the boxcar doorway, taking in the view. The radio played a soulful R & B tune.

   "Train's slowing," Dave said. "We'll be stopping at a yard soon."

   "So beautiful," Trudy said, enchanted by the lush scenery rolling by. "It is like the Mountains of Orange. With only one sun."

   "We only need one sun around here."

   "At the next stop we must separate," she said.

   "I was thinking the same thing. You travel lighter alone."

   "I am hunted on both worlds," Trudy said, frustrated. "Why?  Why this trick on me?"

   "I'm always asking myself that. Why? I never get an answer."

   She looked at him. "On my world, holding hands gives comfort. And it heals."

   "Yeah?" Dave said.

   "Can we hold hands now?"

   "Is this a trick?"

   "No," she laughed, "this is not a trick."

   "Some strange stuff happened before."

   "My people touch to travel, or to gather information about those we touch. Sometimes we just hold hands."

   Dave thought a moment. "I'll only start liking you."

   "I am leaving."

   "See," he said, "that always happens."

   "Just for a minute."

   "Okay," he finally agreed, "but it doesn't mean a thing to me."

   They held hands. Dave looked away nonchalantly. He began to sing.

   "Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream…"

   Trudy chuckled and he hammed it up. "…merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream. Hey, holding hands is how you sent us to your planet."

   "Yes, but I must think of-"

   The towering Manku screamed, their massive arms hammering downward.

   Just as suddenly Trudy and Dave were again sitting in the boxcar. Dave yanked his hand free of Trudy's.

   "What the hell was that?" he said.

   "I'm sorry!"

   "Whoa!"

 

 

 

 

 

9

 

 

Lord Sindar dragged the bound President into the Oval Office's closet, then touched his captive's eyes.

   "Sleep now."

   The President fell into a deep slumber. As Sindar closed the closet door he stepped on a television remote control. The television popped on. A daytime talk show host exclaimed, "You actually had sex with a goat?"

   "A viewing crystal," Sindar said, amused, then stabbed at the remote with his foot.

   Click. "I'm gonna whack you and your whole family," a gangster in a black and white movie said, "because you're a punk."

   Click. "...fat and flabby?"  An athletic actress rolled on a large blue ball. "Be fit and trim!"

   Click. A housewife exclaimed, "Clean up that mess with Daisy Orange, it'll leave a clean fresh scent, too. Now with-"

   Click. An old woman angrily wagged her finger. "You're an idiot and a drunk, that's why you lost your inheritance."

   Sindar grinned, puzzled. "This world is quite strange."

 

 

   Sindar sat at the President's desk, holding a red telephone receiver.

   "Yuri!" he said into the receiver. "How is your fat and flabby wife? It must be like having sex with a goat. There's no misunderstanding. I'm going to whack you and your whole country!  Because you're a punk! When I drop the bombs there'll be such a mess you'll have to clean it up with Daisy Orange!"

   The intercom buzzed. "Mr. President, the first lady is here."

   Sindar pressed the intercom button. "Tell her to wait."

   Emily Marshall stormed in, elegant in a charcoal gray designer suit. She glared at him, hands on hips, as if scolding a child.

   Sindar dropped the receiver into its cradle.

   "Morris, what mess are you getting into now?"

   "Mess?" he asked, inspecting her curiously.

   "If you want a second term, you'd better keep doing what I say. I didn't spend thirty years getting you here so you can just screw

it up."

   "Yes, dear," Sindar replied, beginning to understand their relationship.

   "First of all, blame it all on those doves that have weakened the military, causing our enemies to feel we're vulnerable."

   "Yes."

   "Control the media on this, don't let them set the agenda."

   "Yes, dear."

   "Everyone on a need-to-know basis."

   "Dear?" he asked.

   "What?"

   "We should have children, so my offspring, our offspring, can inherit this kingdom."

   "The pressure is making you goofy, Morris. Try to act presidential."

   Sindar laughed, then grabbed her and kissed her passionately, lustfully. She struggled at first, surprised and annoyed, but he persisted with hungry desire until she also was overcome with passion.

   "Oh, Morris."

   "You drive me wild, my lady. I must have you now."

   He lifted her onto the desk, knocking picture frames to the floor.

   "Oh, Morris," she said. "This crisis has made you a new man."

   "How true."

 

 

 

 

 

10

 

 

The train pulled into the railroad yard as the day faded into early evening, throwing long shadows across the rusted tracks.

   Dave helped Trudy down from the boxcar and they made their way over the rails toward a small coffee shop. A neon sign shone through the window, flickering the word "EAT."

   Indoors, the coffee shop was alive with conversation and the clangor of dishes and silverware as two overworked waitresses rushed food to railroad workers in dingy Naugahyde booths.

   Trudy and Dave slipped into an empty booth and picked up a menu.

   "Now they're going to drop the big one!"  In the next booth a burly workman showed his friend a newspaper with a banner headline screaming:  "Nuclear Threat!"  Dave and the girl listened carefully, pretending to study the menu.

   "I knew I should have taken early retirement," the other man replied.

   "This country is nuts."

   A waitress appeared suddenly, startling Trudy. Heavy makeup covered her aging Asian features. She smiled, flipping open her order pad.

   "What would you kids like?"

   "Two burgers, fries and colas," Dave said.

   "Who'd have guessed," she commented as she scribbled down the order. "What are you two doing at the yard?"

   "Uh," Dave stumbled, "we got lost and, uh-"

   "Which train goes to Washington, D.C.?" Trudy asked.

   The waitress looked up with a grin. "Going to help the President stop the war?"

   "Yes," Trudy said.

   Dave laughed hollowly. "Isn't my girlfriend funny?  My sister lives in D.C. We're going for a visit."

   "Sure, honey. The Oxford, about six tracks over. It'll get you close."

   "Thanks," Dave said.

   The waitress gave him a knowing wink, then smiled at Trudy. "Don't worry honey, I've been there. Everything'll work out fine. I'll go put your gourmet meals up."

   The waitress walked off.

   "She thinks we're running off to get married," Dave explained. "She thinks I got you pregnant."

   "That isn't possible," Trudy said, alarmed, "unless you do things differently than on my world."

   "No, you're right," Dave said, embarrassed. "It isn't possible."

   "Yes. It is difficult for you to even hold hands."

   "That's real funny," Dave said, rolling his eyes.

   "After our meal, I will bid you farewell. I will take the Oxford train on the sixth track to Washington, D.C. and try to save your world. You can go hide."

   "Trudy, I don't understand all this."

   "You know what to do!" she said. "You are strong. I have witnessed this."

   "I acted like a scared rat backed into a corner. I don't know anything."

   Dave dropped his head onto his arms.

   "David, thank you for your help and friendship."

   Dave raised his head. "Maybe we can't hold hands, but I could give you a hug good-bye."

   "A hug good-bye?"

   Dave hugged her awkwardly, and she responded. The waitress brought their soft drinks and smiled. "Young love is so beautiful."

   Dave, suddenly self-conscious, moved away from Trudy. The waitress set their drinks down.

   "Listen," she said, "here's some hard-won wisdom. Life is hard, very hard. Live for the good moments."

   "Yes," Trudy said, "good moments."  She smiled at Dave. "Like when you sang that song."

   The waitress pressed her hand to her heart. "How romantic!  A serenade. What was the song?"

   "Row, row, row your boat," Trudy answered.

   The waitress shot Dave a reproachful look. "Your burgers'll be a minute."  She rushed over to another booth.

   Trudy's smile faded suddenly. Puzzled, Dave looked over his shoulder and saw his high school yearbook photo on the front page of the newspaper held by the workman in the adjoining booth. Next to his blandly smiling face was a blurry shot of Trudy and Dave taken when they were trapped in the alley. The workman glanced up at them as he turned a page, unaware of the connection.

   Dave rifled through a pile of newspapers left on a nearby seat and found the article. He whispered to Trudy while reading it.

   "It says we're fugitives. Says we have a deadly virus that's driven us crazy. There's a reward."

   He and Trudy stiffened. Newspapers were all over the cafe.

   "Just act normal until we get out of here," Dave said nervously.

   He pulled a few dollars from his pocket and left them on the table. They stood, and hoping to go unnoticed, casually strolled toward the door.

   "Hey!  Just a minute!"

   They froze. Some of the railroad men glanced up. The waitress hurriedly wrapped their burger and fries in a white bag and ran it over to them.

   "I think when you're hungry," she said, "eating a hamburger qualifies as living for the good moments."

 

 

11

 

 

Trudy sat in the doorway of the moving boxcar, the train's soothing rhythm gently vibrating through her. She watched golden wheatfields roll by.

   Dave dropped down next to her, singing.

   "...you take one down and pass it around, fifty-four bottles of beer on the wall!"

   Trudy laughed. "Aren't you going to finish it?"

   "There's another fifty-four bottles to go."

   "It's funny," she said.

   "I thought of another one. 'Old MacDonald Had a Farm.'"

   "Oh, good!"

   "It's too stupid to sing."

   "Just sing the best part."

   Dave thought for a moment. "Here an oink. There an oink. Everywhere an oink, oink."

   Trudy rocked with laughter.

   "You're easy to please," he grinned. "Now you sing a dumb song."

   She shook her head. "We sing with sounds, not words. We sing to make miracles."

   "Well, you can take these songs back with you, keep everyone from being so serious."

   "If I can ever go back," she said. "Sindar, my father's chief advisor, should have rescued me."

   "Well, we're safe now."

   Suddenly, a helicopter swooped over the train like a giant hummingbird. At the open passenger door sat Morgan, the assassin, mirror sunglasses gleaming. He raised his rifle.

   Dave yanked Trudy back into the boxcar as the rifle shot cracked. The bullet ripped through the steel boxcar wall, narrowly missing them. A solid shaft of sunlight sprang through the hole. Trudy and Dave backed farther into the boxcar as another shot punctured the side, throwing a second beam of light onto the wooden floor.

   "I'm going to try and draw him away," Dave yelled to Trudy over the roar of the helicopter.

   "He will kill you!"

   "He'll kill us both if I stay."

   Dave moved toward the door. Another bullet tore through the wall. Dave grasped the door frame and looked back at the girl.

   "Good-bye, Trudy."

   "David!"

   He pulled himself out of the door and clung to the ladder outside. The noise of the speeding train and the pounding of the copter was deafening. Dizzy, he watched the scenery zip by in a blur, then bolted up the ladder and onto the top of the car.

   His sudden appearance took Morgan by surprise. The pilot swung the copter around to offer Morgan a clean shot, but Dave scampered over the rooftop and down the ladder to the next car before the man could fire again.

   The hunt was on.

   The chopper whirled over the boxcar, positioning for another shot. Dave straddled the buckling between the two boxcars. The chopper leveled alongside him. Dave tucked himself tightly against a metal beam, shielding his body.

   Morgan fired twice. Both times the bullets ricocheted off the metal beam, inches from Dave. The copter soared to the other side of the train where Dave was unprotected.

   He flew up the ladder and onto the top of the boxcar, breaking into a flat-out run, leaping from one boxcar to another. The chopper maneuvered for position. Another rifle shot rang out as Dave leaped off a boxcar roof and landed hard onto bricks stacked on the flatcar below. He quickly regained his footing and scrambled over the flatcar toward a row of tractors. He rolled under one.

   The helicopter hovered in close as Morgan tried to draw a bead on Dave, but the boy kept shift-ing beneath the tractor, remaining protected.

   The chopper shot upward, then descended toward the nearest boxcar, swaying slightly as the pilot skillfully lowered it. Morgan stepped onto the helicopter's rail, preparing to leap down.

   Dave yanked himself up onto the boxcar roof. He planted his feet and hurled a brick at the copter, shattering the windshield. Startled, the pilot rocked the craft. Morgan tumbled onto the boxcar roof and rolled toward the edge, desperately clutching a rusted ventilation pipe.

   Dave let another brick fly, smashing the helicopter's rudder. It flew into a tailspin and slammed into the side of the boxcar, exploding in a fury of flames.

   Morgan rose to one knee and pulled out a large handgun. Dave clambered down the ladder, pulling his head out of sight as the man pulled the trigger. The report sounded like a cannon.

   Dave quickly dropped to the coupling, panicked. Trapped, he pressed his back against the boxcar wall, waiting for Morgan to peer over the top and shoot down on him.

   Morgan didn't come.

   "Trudy," Dave said.

   Dave raced back up the ladder and sprinted from one boxcar roof to the next. Without hesitation he swung down through the boxcar door and landed hard on his feet.

   Morgan held his gun barrel to Trudy's head. She was horrified.

   "Nice to see you two alive," Morgan rasped. "Even better to see you dead."

   "David!"

   Trudy and Dave reached out to each other. A flash of light.

 

12

 

 

Several Manku had Trudy and Dave surrounded in the clearing, arms raised high, screaming. Dave clutched Trudy and they cowered.

   Moments passed.

   Finally Dave opened his eyes. "Trudy." She looked up.

   "They're just making a lot of racket," he said.

   Slowly, deliberately, Trudy and Dave rose and walked between two Manku, whose massive heads turned as they passed. The Mankus' nostrils flared and they snorted, but they did not attack.

   Trudy and Dave moved slowly toward the thick brush, trying to maintain their composure. The Manku followed closely, still screaming.

   Other Manku sat in the open field, watching. Large purple melons lay scattered around them, some cracked open, exposing juicy yellow pulp.

   A Manku just behind them snarled viciously. Trudy became unnerved.

   "They are terrorizing us before they kill us."

   "No," Dave said. "They just want us to leave."

   Trudy covered her ears, increasingly shaken as the creatures followed, pounding their chests and giving off earsplitting screams.

   Then a Manku stepped on a dry branch, causing a loud crack right behind her. She whirled around and confronted the enormous beast.

   "I am Princess Truzena of Isra, and I command you to stop!"

   The pack of Manku recoiled at Trudy's sudden verbal assault. A few even jumped back. The Mankus' roars now turned to cautious growls.

   "I'm impressed," Dave said.

     Again the creatures came forward, growling more loudly.

   "Quiet!" Dave yelled.

   The pack leaped back several steps. One even whimpered and held its head.

   "It is not like the rumors from my homeland," Trudy said. "The Manku are known to kill on sight."

   "Sorry you're disappointed."

   "Some hold their heads," she said, "as if in pain."

   Dave pointed to one of the creatures sitting in the clearing. "I think I see the problem."  The Manku smashed a large purple melon on its head, crying out as it split in two. Another Manku scooped out the pulp and ate.

   "This fruit is ripe for them now," observed Trudy.

   "Gives me a headache just thinking about lunch. Let's go."

   Trudy wouldn't move. "They are simple creatures, David. They appear fierce but their hearts hold no malice. Perhaps we can help them."

   "Trudy, let's get out of here."

   Just then an elderly Manku, its fur streaked with silver, raised a purple melon above its head.

   Trudy ran toward it. "Stop!" she yelled.

   The Manku, distracted, lowered the fruit slowly. Several Manku nearby became agitated as Trudy approached, but made no attempt to stop her.

   Trudy snatched the purple fruit from the beast's grasp.

   "You must not bang your head like that!  That is bad! Understand? Bad!"

   The Manku snarled and reached for the melon, but Trudy held it away from him. Dave carefully approached.

   "Excuse my friend, sir," he said, trying to sound calm. He turned to Trudy. "Give that thing back."

   Trudy looked determined. "I will not. We must teach these simple creatures a better way."

   The Manku growled menacingly. Dave smiled at the agitated beast while talking

to Trudy.

   "Give it back."

   "I said no. This creature will injure itself."

   "On Earth we have a rule. Never take food from something five times bigger than you."

   Dave grabbed hold of the purple fruit, but Trudy held firm. They tugged at it.

   "Let go," he said.

   "I will not. You let go."

   "Come on."

   "No!"

   Dave yanked with all he had, slamming her against him as they tumbled to the ground. The melon flew high into the air, then crashed down on another melon, breaking in two.

   "Now you did it!" Dave said. "You broke his dinner."

   Trudy picked up an unbroken melon and brought it to the Manku, instructing the creature. "Just hit one against the other, then they will open."

   She placed the melon into the creature's large hands, then held it with him while making a swinging motion toward one on the ground.

   Soon Dave became bored and sat in the grass. A Manku ten yards away watched him. Dave stared back. The Manku snarled.

   Trudy worked patiently with the Manku, but the creature didn't seem to grasp what she was trying to convey. Dave picked up a melon half and started eating the sweet pulp. It was delicious. He looked at the Manku watching him, then tossed over a large hunk of pulp. The Manku caught it and gulped it down.

   Trudy continued showing the old Manku how to hit the melons. Finally the creature took the melon from her hands, raised it high in the air and slammed it over its head, crying out in agony. Exasperated, Trudy walked over to Dave and dropped to the ground beside him.

   He held out a piece of fruit. She nibbled at it, frowning. "Hey, don't feel bad," he said. "Everyone learns at their own pace. See?"  He pointed across the clearing where a few of the younger Manku shattered melons together and devoured the pulp, gurgling joyously. Trudy's face brightened with a broad smile and they laughed together.

   Finally, they lay back on the patch of soft, thick grass, enjoying the two brilliant sunsets of Delva-Tu-Ni.

 

 

13

 

 

At daybreak Trudy and Dave struck out for the Mountains of Orange.

   "I want a pet Manku," Dave said, a large melon under each arm. "No one would hassle me."

   "The Manku are such gentle creatures. How could Sindar have been so wrong?"

   "Ask him," Dave said, pointing to the castle in the distance. "We'll be there soon."

   "With luck," Trudy said warily.

   "We got it made."

 

 

*   *   *

   The king of Isra sat on an intricately carved golden throne in the center of a cavernous chamber. One vast glass wall offered a breathtaking view of the rolling woodlands and villages below.

   The king, a swarthy man with a gray beard, sweated and writhed feverishly. He berated two servants standing before him.

   "Where is my daughter?" he shouted furiously. "Find her or you will be food for the Shocka's beasts!  You all plot against me. I am wise to your subterfuge!"

   "My lord," Lenno interjected, "we are but your lowliest servants-" Marta touched Lenno's arm, silencing him.

   The king spoke directly to Lenno. "My food is poisoned!  Lizards!"  The king looked desperately around him. "Lizards everywhere!"

   "My lord," pleaded Lenno, "I see no lizards."

   The king clutched the little man, practically lifting him off his feet.

   "I am not losing my mind!  There are lizards about this room!"

   Marta sprang forward, mopping the king's face with a cloth, comforting him.

   "My lord," she said, "of course there are lizards, they are everywhere."

   He released Lenno, distracted.

   "Ah, see?  I am not mad after all. Where is Truzena?  And where is Sindar?"

   Sindar suddenly appeared and knelt before the king.

   "Your majesty," he said.

   "Well?" the king asked. "Do you have it?"

   "Of course, my lord."

   Sindar leaned forward to kiss the king's hand, but he pulled it back. "Bring it forth," he demanded.

   Sindar glanced at the servants.

   "Begone!" the king commanded.

   "Where have you been?" Marta whispered to Sindar as she backed out. "My poor king cannot wait this long."

   "Business," he replied, grinning.

   "Let's have it!" the king said.

   "My lord, I must have the viewing mist," he said, offering the king a small silver box.

   The king ripped keys from his vest and tossed them at Sindar. He then took the silver box.

   "Is there more?" he asked.

   "I have secured an endless supply, my lord. The highest quality."

   The king opened the box. Inside, tiny white worms glistened and squirmed. He placed a pinch of the worms in his right ear, then laid his head back. Almost immediately a drugged, blissful expression came over his face.

   "That's good," he murmured.

   Sindar smiled. "I'm glad, my lord."

   "I will have to stop someday, before my brain is entirely eaten."

   "You can stop when you like, my king."

   "Yes."  The king's eyes drooped as his mind drifted with pleasure.

   Sindar took the king's keys and opened a brass cupboard, revealing a dark round stone from which pale smoke rose and boiled. Holding the stone, he concentrated and his hands glowed. The mist gradually showed an image of Trudy and Dave.

   "Can you find Truzena?" the king asked, his speech slurred.

   "We will bring her home safely, my king. Just a rebellious youth looking for adventure."

   "Yes, a rebellious youth."

   Sindar activated a second viewing mist from the cupboard. This mist showed a barren wasteland, two suns blazing overhead. He pressed the mists together and the image of Trudy and Dave merged with the wasteland.

 

 

 

 

14

 

 

Trudy and Dave strode among lush blue and yellow trees on their way to the Mountains of Orange. A fresh breeze lifted their spirits.

   As they pushed through some thick brush, they saw it.

   The terrain transformed before their eyes. The fertile hills melted into a desolate wasteland, miles of sun-baked sand with scattered patches of gray cactus and dead grass.

   The Mountains of Orange now appeared impossibly distant and in a different direction.

   "The land has shifted," Trudy said, stunned. "This is the land of the Spirits of Sashwa, a brutal people. They summon weather."

   "Man," Dave said, staring out over the endless desert. "I am not liking this."

   Trudy took Dave's hand and they trudged toward the mountains.

   Behind them three large gray cactuses glowed and changed into a woman and two men. They followed Trudy and Dave stealthily.

   As the day progressed the two suns, fierce red and white, engulfed the sky. The sweltering heat intensified. Hot winds whipped them with stinging sand.

   Forging onward, hot air swirled before them, distorting the view of the Mountains of Orange. The castle was unrecognizable, a blur of pale colors. They kept their heads down and pressed on into the harsh heat and dust.

   Trudy finally said, "Sing a song."

   "What?" Dave asked.

   "Please sing me a song."

   He laughed grimly. "I'm not in the mood."

   "How about 'Row Your Boat?'"

   Dust blew up into their bloodshot eyes as they walked along in silence. Suddenly Dave launched into the song, loud and completely out of tune. Trudy smiled.

   Dave was singing "Life is but a dream," when a gust of sand flew into his open mouth. Coughing and spitting, he shot an irritated glance at Trudy, who laughed musically.

   Then he smiled and licked his fingers, patting his stomach contentedly. "Nothing like a little sand with a song. Just the way I like it."

   "Oh, David," Trudy chuckled, "you are so special."

   Dave self-consciously took a breath and met Trudy's eyes. "You're special too," he said, trying not to blush.

   "You're special too," a mocking voice echoed eerily. Shadowy figures appeared, then vanished before Dave could focus on them.

   "The Spirits of Sashwa," Trudy said.

   "The Spirits of Sashwa," came the echo again.

   "This is creepy," Dave whispered.

   "This is creepy," whispered the Sashwa.

   Trudy and Dave started forward again, this time into a rising wind. The shadowy figures flickered before them several times, never clearly seen, a movement in the corners of their eyes.

   The Sashwa now mimicked Trudy and Dave's laughter. The wind became stronger. Dave held Trudy's hand tightly as they quickened their pace headlong into the wind. The mocking laughter grew louder until it rolled over Trudy and Dave in overlapping waves of chilling sound.

   Dave took a deep breath and bellowed:  "Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream!  Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream!"

   Dave paused expectantly. As he had hoped, the Spirits of Sashwa echoed the verse. Soon he had them singing two choruses of the round while he carried the third.

   "Just like second grade!" Dave cried out, smiling at Trudy victoriously. A violent gust knocked him to the ground.

   "They're not amused," Trudy said. "They will destroy us."

   "All because of a little 'Row Your Boat?'"

   The wind built rapidly.

   "They are one of our fiercest enemies. Sindar has spoken of this."

   "Fierce like the Manku?" asked Dave.

   Trudy looked at him thoughtfully.

   The wind now blew so strongly that Trudy embraced Dave to keep from falling. "What can we do?" Dave shouted over the roar of the wind.

   "Spirits of Sashwa!" Trudy cried out. "I am Princess Truzena of Isra."  She gestured toward Dave. "This is my slave from another world."

   "What?" Dave said.

   She silenced him with a raised hand. "I command you to bow to me or the wrath of my kingdom will crush you."

   Dave jumped in front of her, waving his hands. "Whoa!  Time out!" he yelled. "Spirits of Sashwa, weather people, whatever. Disregard everything she just said."  He smiled nervously. "She's actually pretty nice once you get to know her. All we want is to walk across your lovely desert here without any trouble. If you could let us do that we'd appreciate it."

   The wind stopped. The sudden calm and silence astonished them both.

   "See," Dave said. "Be nice."

   "It cannot be this easy," Trudy said.

   Three Sashwa appeared before them, wavering shadows distorted by the heat.

   An eerie voice spoke, seeming to come from all around them. "We have been at war for twenty years," the Sashwa said. "Why should we allow sworn enemies to pass?"

   Trudy scowled. "Legend holds that twenty years past your people attacked the People of Isra. War is your wish!"

   "Your legend is false!  Your soldiers, led by one called Sindar, attacked our people without provocation. Only then did we use our weather powers for defense."

   "This is more trickery from you!" Trudy asserted angrily.

   "It is you, the Isra, who are masters of deceit. We shall let the weather decide."

   The three flickering figures of the Sashwa dissolved in the heat, disappearing completely.

   "What was that all about?" Dave asked.

   Trudy pointed to a cactus, gray and dead, several steps away. Slowly it split open, exposing a long, gleaming sword.

   "Whoa!" Dave said, enchanted by the beautifully crafted weapon. He cautiously approached the cactus, grasped the hilt and lifted the sword. He hefted it with both hands, admiring its weight and balance.

   "We will fight," Trudy said.

   Dave swung the sword over his head. "Who?"

   The howl of wind came from the distance. Trudy and Dave turned.

   Black, stretching to the sky. Approaching rapidly. A tornado.

   "No way!" Dave cried. "I'm supposed to fight a tornado with a sword?"

   "No." Trudy took the sword from him. "I am."

   Dave trotted back a few steps, terror-stricken at the awesome sight of the black, whirling destroyer.

   "I say we run like hell!" he yelled over the rushing winds.

   "We cannot outrun a tornado," Trudy said calmly, raising the sword. "This is our way."

   Dave grabbed her hand. "This is crazy."

   The sky darkened. The winds turned violent as the tornado screamed down upon them.

 

 

15

 

 

Trees whipped by in a blur beyond the boxcar door. Dave stood at the opening and faced Morgan, who held his gun to Trudy's head.

   But it wasn't Trudy anymore.

   Morgan's barrel pressed against the temple of Major Block.

   "What the hell are you doing?" the major shouted.

   Startled, Morgan jerked back. He pulled off his sunglasses and looked hard at Major Block. Then a knowing grin stole across his leathery features as he raised his pistol again.

   Major Block drove forward into Dave and they plunged out the door of the speeding train.

   Morgan's gun gave a resonant crack as Dave and the major flew through the air and hit hard, tumbling through tall brown grass.

   Major Block transformed back into Trudy, banged-up and dirty, lying next to Dave. The noise of the train grew faint as it fled toward the horizon.

   They rose sluggishly, gently touched their bruises and wiped dirt off their clothes. And embraced.

   "Washington," Trudy said.

   They walked through a large field, pushing through thick shrubs at the edge of a two lane blacktop. Dave, exhausted, stuck out his thumb as several cars and a pickup truck sped by. None of the vehicles even slowed.

   Finally a washed-out Oldsmobile stopped alongside them.

   The sole occupant of the vehicle was a gray-haired African-American woman whose sharp eyes danced in a weathered face. "Where you kids heading?"

   "The next town, I guess," Dave said. "We're going to D.C."

   She studied Trudy and Dave a moment. "Get the water jug from the back seat and pour it in the radiator. You got yourselves a ride."

 

 

   The huge front seat had plenty of room. Trudy sat between Dave and the lady, Mrs. McKinnely, as the Oldsmobile cruised along.

   "It wasn't overheating," Dave said, interrupting the awkward silence. "Just needed some water."

   "I hope you two don't mind sitting up front," Mrs. McKinnely said. "I ain't no chauffeur."

   "No ma'am," Dave said, "thanks very much."

   "Going to D.C."  The woman turned to look at them. "Going to see the President about stopping the nuclear war?"

   "Yes ma'am," Trudy replied.

   The woman stared at them a moment, then unexpectedly burst out laughing. "Well, you'll do better than them politicians."

   They drove on in silence. After a few minutes Mrs. McKinnely said, "Don't talk much, do you?"

   "Yes ma'am, Mrs. McKinnely, we talk," Dave said.

   "Yes ma'am, yes ma'am," the lady said to herself. "Well, they're polite, that much I know."

   Trudy smiled. "How are you, Mrs. McKinnely?"

   "Fine, except for this arthritis in my hands, and the fact I'm living in a trailer park because the banks and government took my farm. But I ain't complaining, even though it sounds that way. Like my father used to say, rest his soul, 'As long as you can sit up and take nourishment you should count your blessings.'"

   "David and I can sit up and take nourishment," Trudy said.

   "Then you should count your blessings," Mrs. McKinnely said.

   "We should count our blessings," Trudy said to Dave.

   "Right," he said, forcing a grin.

   Suddenly Trudy and Mrs. McKinnely broke into hearty laughter. Mrs. McKinnely slapped Trudy's knee. Trudy responded by slapping Mrs. McKinnely's knee, laughing all the while. Dave watched, befuddled.

   Trudy patted the dashboard of the car affectionately. "It only needed a drink," she said.

   "That's right," Mrs. McKinnely said, "just a drink now and then or ol' Sweetheart will start blowing steam, just like a lot of people I know. Bought her brand spanking new in '64. Got one of the biggest engines Detroit ever made, 442-cubic inch. My Sweetheart Olds 88 can really get up and fly."

   "Thank you for letting it take us along," Trudy said.

   "My pleasure. Town's just a few miles up. You can find your next ride there, that is if all those army people don't get in your way."

   "Army people?" Dave asked, alarmed.

   "Yeah, they're trucking them in like crazy."

   "Oh," he said nervously, looking out the window.

   "Government's always getting in people's hair," Mrs. McKinnely said under her breath.

   The Oldsmobile purred along for a few miles.

   "Wait!" Dave blurted out. "Uh, today's Tuesday?"

   "Thursday," Mrs. McKinnely said.

   "Right, stop!  Please. Thursday. I forgot, we're supposed to go back the other way today and, uh, visit some relatives. Could you please let us off here?"

   "What about D.C.?" she asked.

   "Later. It's Thursday!"

   "Okay," Mrs. McKinnely said. "Keep your boots on."  She pulled over, the wide tires crunching the gravel alongside the road. Trudy and Dave got out and thanked her.

   "Well, God bless you two and good luck."

   She drove off as Trudy and Dave trotted back the other way.

   "We've got to find cover," Dave said.

   "We can use the thumb trick," Trudy suggested.

   They walked along the roadside, watching for approaching cars.

   "Here come a bunch of rides," Trudy exclaimed. "Get ready to pour the water!" Excited, she extended her thumb.

   In the distance they saw billows of dust rise. They tried to make out what could cause so much dust.

   Suddenly Dave understood. A military convoy.

   He grabbed Trudy's hand and pulled her into some nearby bushes. As the convoy approached, soldiers jumped out of the tarp-covered personnel carriers and waded through the underbrush, working their way across the fields.

   Trudy and Dave huddled behind the bushes by the roadway. The convoy was almost on top of them now, the rumble of the engines and grinding of gears overwhelming.

   The trucks rolled by, raising a thin cloud of dust. From the benches in back soldiers looked out over the fields, smoking, chatting casually, bored.

   The dust from the truck tires thickened, drifting into the bushes and fields. The last personnel carrier screeched to a halt by the bushes where Trudy and Dave crouched. They huddled tightly.

   The soldiers stepped down from the truck and paired up, walking right past Trudy and Dave. The men probed the bushes with their rifle butts as they made their way deeper into the field.

   Two soldiers jumped down from the cab for a stretch, then leaned against the truck. The driver swigged from a soda bottle.

   "If we ever find them," the other soldier asked, "do you think you'd have the guts to shoot teenagers?"

   "Sure man," the driver said. "They're contaminated, right? Just aim your gun and blam!"

   "I guess."

   The driver emptied the soda and lofted the bottle over the field, then walked toward Trudy and Dave. When he reached their bush he unzipped his pants and began urinating.

   "Piece of cake, man," he said. "Hang around a while, then go back to the base. I guarantee they ain't within a hundred miles of here."

   "Hey!" Dave leaped to his feet. "Watch where you're pissing, pal!"

   The driver ran backward, frantically zipping his pants. Trudy stood up beside Dave.

   "It's them!" the other soldier screamed.

   "Just relax," Dave said. "We can explain everything."

   The soldiers backed themselves against the truck, raising their arms.

   "Don't come any closer!" the driver shouted. "We don't want to get contaminated!"

   "It's all a lie!" Dave said. "We aren't contaminated."

   "You're not?" asked the other soldier, slowly lowering his arms.

   "Right," Dave said.

   "And you're not going to kill us?"

   "Of course not," he said, relieved.

   Both soldiers scrambled up into the cab and the truck pulled away. The driver sounded the horn furiously while the other man screamed into a microphone, his voice booming from speakers mounted on the roof of the truck.

   "We found them!  Jesus H. Christ, right under our noses!  Red alert!  Red alert!"

   "Thanks, pal," Dave said, crestfallen.

   Some of the soldiers ran through the field toward their trucks, others ran directly toward Trudy and Dave, rifles raised. Dave looked up the road and saw Major Block's sedan. The major stood next to the open passenger door, shouting orders into a radio transmitter.

   "Down!" yelled Dave. He and Trudy tumbled to the ground as gunshots popped all around like firecrackers.

 

16

 

 

The tornado swirled fiercely around them, but they were protected within an enormous bubble, an invisible sphere extending from the tip of Trudy's sword. Under the dome was total calm.

   Dave, astonished by the fury of the storm, spun around to watch it and came face to face with the three people who had been following them.

   "Who are you?" Trudy asked, mystified by their presence.

   "We are of the People of Isra," the woman responded.

   "A rescue party, at last!" Trudy said.

   The three paused uncomfortably.

   "More tricks," Trudy said, suddenly suspicious.

   "We were on scout of the Great Expanse when we stumbled upon you, my princess," the younger man said, bowing respectfully.

   "Breakaways!  Traitors!" Trudy said angrily.

   "This is Zum, our navigator," said the woman. "I am Renna and this is Pumen. And yes, we are of a different way."

   Suddenly the tornado dissipated and the protective bubble vanished. All was quiet on the Great Expanse, hot and dry as before.

   "The Sashwa," Trudy said. "Our intentions are believed."  She swung the sword around, facing the others. "From one evil to the next," she said.

   Renna and Pumen knelt. "My princess," Pumen said, "we are academics, studying the cultures of Delva-Tu-Ni's many benevolent people."

   "Benevolent people?" Trudy repeated, incredulous.

   "We have caused harm to no one," said Zum.

   "You are weak," Trudy said.

   "Filled with passion and intelligence," said Renna admiringly, "you are strong, like your mother."

   Trudy stepped forward with the sword.

   "You dare speak of my mother?"

   "She would have Those of the Wisp sing to you when you were a baby," Renna added. "The gentle sounds."

   "How she hated to be called 'Queen,'" Pumen said, smiling.

   "She encouraged the New Discipline before she died in the Hellos plague," Renna said.

   "It was then your father began to deteriorate, and a darkness took root," Pumen

sadly recalled.

   "How can you know such things?" Trudy asked, shaken.

   "For your own safety you must know more," Pumen said. "You must know-"

   Trudy and Dave started to become transparent, the land shifting around them. Zum called out as the two vanished.

   "We Breakaways will always be in reach, whenever you are open to change."

 

 

   They stood at the base of the Mountains of Orange. Trudy no longer held the sword. Far above appeared the city of Isra. Early evening was upon them.

   "It happened again," Dave said, disoriented. He sat on a rock.

   "We are on the wrong side," Trudy said. "We will have to go straight up. It is very dangerous."

   "Trudy! We were just inside a tornado, then we somehow appeared here."  He laughed and shook his head. "Doesn't that seem strange to you?"

   "No," she said.

   "Well, my nerves are shot."

   "Now you know how I feel when I'm on your world," she said.

   "Yeah, but my nerves are shot on my world, too."

   "Are you giving up again?"

   "No, I'm not giving up again!  Could you just sit down for a second?"

   Trudy sat beside him on the rock.

   "I just wish things were normal," he said.

   "Normal?"

   "I don't know, instead of running around trying to save the universe, maybe I'd just ask you out on a date."

   "What would we do?" she asked.

   "Maybe go bowling, or see a movie."  He looked up the mountain. "Or a hike."

   "A hike?" Trudy said, also looking up.

   "Trudy?"

   "Yes?"

   "I was just thinking."

   "Yes?"

   "Would you like to go bowling?"

   She laughed. "Only if you promise not to sing that boat song."

   "I promise," he said, smiling. "I think the bowling alley is up this mountain."  He stood, taking her by the hand.

   "Sounds normal to me," she said, rising.

   They looked up a path that led to the foot of the mountain and disappeared into the trees.

   As darkness settled in, light from three moons shimmered on their faces like a campfire. They hesitated at the beginning of the path, which was shrouded by leaves of so many colors it resembled an enormous kaleidoscope.

   "Since things are so normal," Dave said, "we have to be on the longest date in the world."

   "In two worlds," she said. "And the most exciting."

   "So it'd probably be normal for me to kiss you about now," he said.

   "Or for me to kiss you."  They turned and touched lips tenderly.

   A twig snapped in the distance. They froze.

   Dave whispered, "Did you invite anyone else bowling?"

   "No."

   He sighed. "Let's go."  They linked arms and strode into the dense shrubbery.

 

 

17

 

 

They made their way up the narrow path, weaving tightly through thick brush, carefully protecting themselves from scrapes. They came to a tunnel carved in the face of a massive boulder and exchanged nervous glances before entering. Their footsteps echoed hollowly in the dank, pitch-black interior.

   "I hope my father will accept you," Trudy whispered as they walked. "I am royal."

   "Well, my father's not too fond of Martians, either."

   "Don't call me that!"

   "Sorry, I'm just tired," Dave sighed, slapping his palm against the cold rock wall. "This whole thing is getting-"

   "Quiet!" Trudy hissed.

   "I said I'm sorry."

   "Quiet," she repeated in a hushed tone, listening intently.

   Dave became still. After a moment the silence was broken by stealthy footsteps from behind, betrayed by the crunch of leaves.

   Something approached in the darkness.

   "Anyway," Dave said, trying to sound casual, "we must live for the good moments."

   "There may not be many left."

   They walked briskly, spotting the barely perceptible light at the tunnel's end, still hundreds of yards ahead.

   "Oh no. Many good moments to come," Dave said. "Like watching a good ball game on a perfect afternoon."

   "A picnic at Red Lake with friends," added Trudy.

   Dave stopped Trudy abruptly and signaled for her silence. They listened as the sound of their pursuer stopped short. "When we walk, it walks," he whispered.

   They moved rapidly toward the tunnel's mouth.

   "Or when Those of the Wisp sing at Festival," Trudy said.

   "Hanging out with Sid, cracking jokes."

   "When there is peace."

   The footsteps grew louder as the pursuer gained on them, no longer hiding its approach. Dave and Trudy ran headlong for the exit, trying to avoid protruding rocks, their arms guarding their heads, breath coming in gasps. Dave shot a backward glance and in the darkness could make out a vague hulking outline bearing down on them.

   They burst from the tunnel and scrambled up the path. Dave tripped over a root and sprawled to the dirt. Terrified, he looked over his shoulder expecting an unspeakable horror to tear him apart, but the mouth of the tunnel gaped empty and silent, giving no clue of their unseen pursuer. Confused, he looked up at Trudy, who helped him to his feet. "What the hell was that thing?" he asked, gulping air. "And where is it now?"

   She didn't answer. He saw her eyes widen with fear, staring over his shoulder.

   He spun around.

   A massive creature with a broad torso and arms like tree branches rushed them with a chilling scream. Dave froze.

   "A Creature of Noctur!  Run!" Trudy yelled.

   She yanked Dave's arm to break his paralysis and they ran all out, sprinting recklessly up the winding path.

   They soon outdistanced the pursuing Noctur, stumbling into a small clearing. Before them the trail split. They hesitated, confused.

   Trudy pointed to the path on the left. "That way!" They took flight down the path, winding around a bend, then stopped suddenly.

   A few yards ahead another Noctur ran directly at them, screaming and thrashing its huge arms.

   Trudy and Dave flew back down to the split in the trail, reaching it just as the first Noctur came up the path. Without hesitation they dashed down the remaining path.

   The trail ended abruptly at the edge of a cliff. Dave peered over the edge. It seemed to fall forever into blackness. The faint sound of rushing water came from far below.

   "The River of Orange," Trudy said. "If we can survive the fall, it may carry us to safety."

   Dave looked defeated. They heard the Creatures of Noctur pushing their way up through the bush toward them.

   "Don't you understand?" Trudy asked. "We can jump."

   "I can't swim."

   "What?" Trudy asked.

   "Drown in a second. You jump. Hurry!"

   "No," she said firmly.

   "Hurry, before they come." Dave pushed Trudy to the cliff. She fought him fiercely. "Please," he pleaded. "Save yourself."

   Three Nocturs broke into view, screaming shrilly.

   "No," Trudy said. "I'm staying with you."

   "I'm sorry," Dave said, shoving Trudy toward the edge.

 

 

   Gunfire exploded all around as Trudy dragged Dave into a ditch by the road. The rain of bullets kicked up dirt near them as they fell flat in the trench, just out of the line of fire.

   Major Block watched from his sedan, shouting orders into his transmitter. The soldiers moved in, trotted several steps, dropped to one knee, shot, then came forward again.

   The rifle fire ceased abruptly. Dave glanced over the edge of the ditch and saw a car rapidly approaching.

   "Mr. Mirror Sunglasses," he said numbly, "coming in for the kill."

   They were trapped. The car braked sharply.

   "Hey!" a woman's voice called out.

   Trudy looked up. Mrs. McKinnely swung open the passenger door and leaned out. "I ain't waiting here forever."

   Trudy and Dave dashed to the car. As they tumbled in, Mrs. McKinnely floored the accelerator. Gunfire erupted again. The rear windshield shattered.

   The Oldsmobile roared on ahead. "Guess they realized I didn't just happen along," Mrs. McKinnely laughed.

   "You saved us, Mrs. McKinnely," Dave said, amazed. "I think we'll make it!"

   "Of course," Trudy said. "Sweetheart's got a 442-cubic inch under her hood, one of the biggest engines Detroit ever made!"

   "That's right," Mrs. McKinnely said. "Plus we got a good lead on them."

   "Why'd you come back for us, Mrs. McKinnely?" Dave asked.

   Mrs. McKinnely thought a moment. "No need for the whole dang military to come after you like that, no matter what they say. You kids are thoroughly all right with me."

   "Thank you, Mrs. McKinnely," Trudy said.

   "Thank you, Mrs. McKinnely," Dave repeated.

   "Oh, just call me Dolores."

 

 

18

 

 

The White House tour guide pointed down a hall blocked by two grim security officers. "As we speak, folks, President Marshall and his cabinet are working round-the-clock to resolve the international crisis."

   A group of dark-suited Secret Service agents at the far end of the corridor walked quickly toward the sightseers. One of the agents waved the tourists aside. "Clear the way, please!" he commanded.

   Suddenly Secret Service agents and other security personnel were everywhere, pushing the tourists to the side of the hall. One of the security men whispered to the tour leader.

   The tour guide's face brightened and he turned to the tourists. "The President is holding a press conference on the crisis." Excited, he smiled at Trudy, who stood in the back of the group with Dave. "We can see history in the making!"

   Trudy watched, astounded, as several Secret Service agents ushered the President past.

   "What's wrong?" Dave asked.

   She hesitated, gazing straight ahead. "That is not your President. That is Lord Sindar

of Isra."

   Dave stared after Sindar. "What a dickhead."

 

 

   The presidential podium stood at the front of the room, flanked by flags. Behind the podium a pair of French doors led to an adjacent room. Rows of chairs filled the hall, all taken by reporters and political figures. Television cameras lined the back wall. Trudy and Dave found standing room against a side wall. The room buzzed with excited conversation. The White House press secretary scanned the crowd and spoke awkwardly into the microphone.

   "Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States."

   The French doors swung open and Sindar strode to the podium. He surveyed the assembled reporters and smiled thinly. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. This morning American intelligence confirmed that former Soviet military factions now have control of nuclear submarines and ICBM silos. We must not allow a first strike. As your commander-in-chief I ask for your complete trust and support. I am sure we will survive this crucial period."

   "This is crazy," Dave said, looking over.

   Trudy was gone.

   A reporter stood. "Mr. President!"

   Sindar's hand shot up. "No questions, please."

   "The Russian ambassador claims this is all a complete mistake."

   "Misinformation," Sindar said.

   "We're talking about nuclear war!" the reporter said emphatically.

   "We will act only in self-defense."

   Loud voices came from the room behind the podium. Sindar turned.

   President Marshall appeared in the doorway. He walked to the podium and stood beside Sindar. The reporters, in stunned silence, stared at the two identical men.

   Sindar could see Trudy through the hazy outline of the President. They communicated telepathically.

   My princess.

   Why?

   Help me, and all will be clear later.

   All is clear now. She pointed at him and addressed the reporters and cameras. "He is an impostor!"

   Sindar glowered. "Security, remove this lunatic."

   The Secret Service agents, bewildered, looked first at Sindar, then at the other President Marshall. The hall remained silent.

   Trudy desperately glanced around the room. "I command you to arrest him!  This is not the President!  This is a dickhead!"

   "Trudy," Dave said.

   "Both are dickheads!" a voice rang out. All eyes turned to the doorway behind the podium where the real President Marshall stood, exhausted, in need of a shave, but fully in command and furious.

   He glared at Trudy and Sindar, then turned to the reporters. "I hereby order immediate termination of all offensive military activity!"

   No one in the room budged, all mesmerized by the sight of the three Presidents.

   "My god!" cried the first lady, standing off to the side, her hand over her mouth. She fainted.

   Trudy threw herself at Sindar and clutched him tightly. He struggled, but they were engulfed in a warm glow as both returned to their natural forms.

   Sindar pushed Trudy away and stepped back. "It's too late!" he announced, wild-eyed.  "The nuclear end is near. I've seen to that!"

   Secret Service agents rushed Sindar, but he vanished with a flash.

   The President pointed to Trudy and the agents swarmed over her. She reached outward. Dave struggled forward and grasped her hand as it began to glow.

 

 

19

 

 

They stood poised on the brink of the cliff. The three Creatures of Noctur closed in on them, screaming.

   "David!" she cried out.

   They hugged. "I love you," he whispered.

   Then, suddenly, he shoved Trudy off the cliff. She fell silently. Dave turned to face the looming Noctur, picking up a large rock. "Now you only get me, you bastards. Come on!"

   The Noctur lunged forward. Dave yelled and charged them, flailing the rock, kicking and swinging wildly.

   As the battle progressed, stinging sweat clouded Dave's eyes and a blow to his head knocked him to the ground. In the dark it looked like the Creatures of Noctur were growing smaller. Dave thrashed his fist outward and felt the crunch of impact.

   "Please stop!"

   He thought he heard high-pitched voices.

   "You win!  We surrender!"

   "What the hell?" Dave said, rising.  His hands clutched two little men no more than three feet tall. They struggled frantically in Dave's grip.

   Branches and bark lay strewn about, along with three ivory horns. The little Nocturs were no longer threatening, their costumes in

tatters.

   "Let us go, you giant bully!" the little man in Dave's left hand cried out.

   Four other tiny men ran forward and took hold of their friends' legs and pulled, trying to break them free of Dave's grasp.

   "Bad man!" one little man said, kicking Dave's left shin. "You smell like toe cheese!  You drink dirty water!"

   Dave held the two small Nocturs firmly.

   "Your breath stinks!  Your brain is bird poop!"  The little man snarled and now savagely kicked Dave's right shin. "Your mother snores like a Manku!"

   Finally Dave's shins had taken all the abuse he could tolerate. He released one little man, who scampered away. Dave bear-hugged the other, hoisting him off the ground. As the Noctur kicked and screamed, Dave dangled him over the edge of the cliff and shot a grim look at the throng of little men. "Knock it off or he goes down!"

   The little men backed away, wide eyes staring at their terrified comrade.

   The shin-kicker tossed a dirt clod at Dave. "You like to roll in mud!"

   "That is enough, Joiner."  An older Noctur with a gray beard stepped out from the shadows.

   Joiner spat at Dave. "You live in an anthill!"

   "That will be all," the old man said wearily.

   "But Sir Lolly," Joiner said, "his feet stink and his teeth are moldy!"

   "I said that will be all!" Sir Lolly commanded.

   "Bad, stinky man," Joiner said under his breath, pinching his nose.

   Sir Lolly observed Dave coolly, who still held the Noctur over the cliff. "The river lies below, sir," he said. "The fall is no threat to Byron."

   "How about if I break his arm instead?" Dave asked, forcing Byron's arm behind his back. "Is that a threat?"

   Sir Lolly considered this for a moment. "No," he said solemnly.

   "It's a threat!" Byron wailed. "A big threat!  Please don't break my arm!"

   Dave stared furiously at Sir Lolly. "Like everything else on this planet, you're bullshit, too."

   Sir Lolly exchanged surprised glances with the other Nocturs. "You are not of the Great Sphere?" he asked, squinting as he examined Dave closely.

   "No way, pal."

   "I suspected you were different. Whoever heard of someone who can't swim?"

   The little people burst into laughter, chattering excitedly.

   "He can't swim!" taunted Joiner. "Dirt crawler!  Maggot muncher!"

   "Look, Captain Ewok," Dave said, "I've got to get to the castle. Now."

   Sir Lolly ran tiny fingers through his long beard. "Come with me," he said, walking away. The rest of the Nocturs followed.

   Dave, perplexed, set Byron down. "That was exciting," Byron said, hurrying to catch up with the rest. After a moment Dave followed.

 

 

   Joiner's oil lamp threw dusky shadows over the tunnel's rock walls. Sir Lolly stopped at a split in the tunnel. He held out his hand and Byron placed a rolled-up parchment into it. Sir Lolly carefully unrolled the decaying document and squinted.

   "This old map has not been used for many years, one called Dave."

   Dave sighed and banged his head against the ceiling. "Damn!"

   Byron and Joiner giggled. Dave looked at them, irritated. Joiner held his nose.

   "It may be too late," Sir Lolly said. "The Great War will begin at daybreak on the field before the castle."

   They moved down the tunnel to the right.

   "Will you fight?" Dave asked.

   "We created the Creature costumes to frighten away our enemies. We will be slaughtered."

   "You may have fewer enemies than you think."

   "I hope this is true, one called Dave."

   "Just call me plain Dave."

   "As you wish, one called Plain Dave."

   "Thanks."

   Sir Lolly stopped and consulted the map again. He strode forward a few more paces and raised his hand. Barely perceptible, caked with dirt, an ancient wooden door was embedded in the tunnel wall.

   "This is the entrance."

   "Bye-bye," Joiner said to Dave, handing him an oil lamp.

   Dave stepped forward, placed his palms against the door's rough surface and pushed.

 

20

 

 

Sindar scrutinized the viewing mist, his fists clenched in anger. "The boy must be in a place sunlight cannot reach," he said to Trudy and the king, striding through the throne room to the balcony. "But he will surface again. Then I will have him."

   Trudy and her father, strapped tightly to sturdy metal chairs, watched Sindar silently.

   On the balcony, Sindar, flush with excitement, watched the many armies of Delva-Tu-Ni gather in the vast field below. Beyond the battlefield the majestic snow-capped  Mountains of Orange towered over sweeping woodlands.

   The Shocka approached from the northern valleys, accompanied by Delva-Tu-Ni's most vicious animals, snarling and slashing at each other with wicked claws, loyal only to the Shocka.

   The clear sky rapidly grew black and turbulent, announcing the arrival of the Spirits of Sashwa.

   Manku gathered at the edge of the forest, screaming and pounding their chests, running onto the battlefield and scurrying back, working themselves into a battle frenzy.

   Darts and arrows flew into the field from a patch of forest. The small, agile Tullu Tree People waited there, their bodies painted to blend perfectly with the foliage.

   Dozens of the little men, disguised as the feared Creatures of Noctur, stood at the foot of the mountain, screaming and thrashing their tree branch arms with all the intensity they could muster.

   The People of Isra assembled just beyond their castle and village. Slowly they transformed into savage humanoid beasts, baring deadly fangs and raking the air with razor-sharp talons.

   From the balcony far above, Sindar laughed with sinister delight.

   "They will never follow you," Trudy called out. "You are not of royal blood."

   He smirked and stepped back into the throne room. "But I am, my dear sister."

   "Sister?"

   "Half sister. Isn't that right, Father?" Sindar said, staring intently at the king. "Mother is a servant. A family secret."

   "I am sorry," the king wearily said to Trudy.

   "And so," Sindar said, as he opened a box and scooped up a handful of sense pleasure worms, "I am the rightful heir to this kingdom, and I will not be cheated any longer."

   The king tensed as Sindar approached.

   "That's too many!" Trudy cried out. "He will die!"

   The king tried to pull his head away but Sindar dug his fingers into the king's gray hair, holding him still. He thrust the worms into the king's ear. As the king lost consciousness, Sindar went to Trudy and clutched her by the hair.

   "Like father, like daughter," he said. "Farewell, my sweet princess."

   Trudy struggled, but the glistening worms in Sindar's hand crawled into her ear. Sindar watched with fascination as her eyes rolled upward.

   "Asshole!" Dave said from behind.

   "What?"  Sindar turned. Dave clobbered him with a heavy wooden chair. Sindar collapsed.

   Dave quickly unstrapped Trudy and shook her, trying to bring her around. "Trudy!  Don't you give up on me!"

   Trudy's eyelids fluttered and she gradually focused on Dave. "The lizard," she whispered, then her head lolled back as she sank into unconsciousness.

   "Lizard?" Dave said, glancing around the room. Near the balcony entrance a large golden cage dangled from a copper chain. Inside, a hefty lizard stared absently through the bars, its tongue flicking the air. Dave slid the cage door open and cautiously removed the lizard. He rushed over to Trudy, cradling it in his arms.

   "What, Trudy?" he asked, panicked. "What do I do with it?"

   Dave stared at the lizard without hope. Suddenly it leaped onto Trudy's lap and crawled up to her shoulder. The lizard's mouth opened and, with a hacking sound, a small puff of smoke from its nostrils entered Trudy's ear. Dave saw worms writhing out of her ear and onto her neck. The lizard's long, sticky tongue stabbed at the worms again and again until they were all devoured.

   "Idiot!" Sindar snarled, tackling Dave from behind. They fell heavily to the stone floor, struggling and thrashing about. Dave struck his forehead on the floor, but swung his fist out and connected solidly with Sindar's cheek. Sindar groaned and his grip on Dave briefly relaxed, but before Dave could shove him away, Sindar's elbow drove into his neck just below the chin. Dave's jaws slammed shut and his vision blurred as they fought, rolling around on top of each other, edging toward the balcony.

   With a fierce cry Sindar rose to his feet, pulling Dave up by his collar. Their breath came hot and fierce as Dave's fingers clawed at Sindar's face. Sindar slammed him up against the balcony railing. Dave's foot shot out in a brutal kick at Sindar's leg and the older man slipped, his head smacking the railing.

   Dave threw himself on top of Sindar, wrapping his hands around his throat, but gasped in surprise as he felt the man's flesh flow beneath his fingers. Dave found himself looking down into the face of a shaggy monster, wicked yellow eyes blazing. Jagged fangs snapped inches from Dave's face as he involuntarily jerked backward. The creature dug its claws into Dave's clothing and rose, lifting Dave over the balcony railing.

   Dave thrust his foot hard into the monster's knee and it stumbled, its claws releasing him. Dave swung a solid roundhouse punch right onto its snout. The creature glowed briefly, then transformed back into a stunned Sindar. Dave threw his arms around Sindar and his momentum carried them far out over the edge, a two-hundred-foot drop to the battlefield below.

   Locked in a face to face struggle, Dave and Sindar grappled with each other, exhausted, both reaching for their last remnants of strength. Dave felt the larger man slowly bearing down on him as they slid farther and farther over the railing, but he clung firmly to Sindar.

   "If I go, you go," Dave whispered grimly.

   "So be it," Sindar hissed, propelling them both over the railing.

 

21

 

Dave saw the battlefield at an odd angle above him and felt a sharp jerk at his waist. He twisted his head around and saw Trudy and the king holding him by his belt.

   Sindar hung from Dave's left wrist, his feet flailing far above the battlefield.

   Sweat stung Dave's eyes and he blinked rapidly, then sucked in his breath. Impossible.

   It wasn't Sindar hanging from his wrist.

   It was Dave's father.

   "Help me, son," John Armstrong said, looking steadily at Dave. "Don't let me die."

   Dave gasped, dumbfounded. "Give me your other hand," he said as he reached down with his right arm.

   Trudy shook him. "Dave, it's not your father!  It's Sindar!"

   Sindar's dagger stabbed at Dave's chest. Dave twisted reflexively and the blade tore a gash in his shoulder before striking sparks from the rock wall. The dagger swung again, but Dave jerked his left hand from Sindar's grasp, narrowly evading the blade as it lodged in a crevice. Sindar, dangling precariously from the dagger's hilt, assumed his true appearance.

   The king and Trudy pulled Dave back onto the balcony. Outraged, the king shook his fist at Sindar and shouted, "You shall be banished!"

   A chilling smile spread across Sindar's face as he looked upward at the three on the balcony. He brought two fingers to his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. Then he planted his feet firmly against the cliff wall and, wrenching

the dagger from the crevice, launched himself

outward.

   The three watched in astonishment as Sindar plunged down, laughing maniacally. His laughter drowned in the furious beating of enormous red wings as a flying horse rose from a ledge below. Sindar twisted in mid-air and nimbly straddled the winged horse, then thrust his dagger high. "Let the war begin!" he crowed.

   On the battlefield below the soldiers cheered and steeled themselves for combat.

   "Sarah!" Trudy called out. "Sarah!  Come!"

   A beautiful white winged horse flew up to the balcony. Trudy hugged her neck, then mounted her bareback. She held out her hand to Dave.

   "Quickly!"

   Dave, terror-stricken, said, "I'm not good with heights."

   Trudy clicked her tongue twice and before Dave could react a powerful wing lifted him up and slid him behind her. With one strong swoop of Sarah's wings Trudy and Dave were off the balcony and flying down toward the battlefield. Dave held onto Trudy for dear life as the winged horse spiraled.

   "Stop!" Trudy called out. "You have been misled!  No one wants this war but Sindar!"

   Sindar rammed his horse into Sarah, nearly toppling Trudy and Dave. The horses bucked and kicked at each other in mid-air. The assembled armies watched, all eyes riveted on the battling winged horses.

   "Fight!" Sindar screamed. "People of Isra, I command you!  Fight!"

   The People of Isra, in the form of humanoid monsters, surged forward.

   "No!" shouted Trudy. "Spirits of Sashwa!  Manku!  Creatures of Noctur!  You are friends!  Expose this treachery before it is too late!"

   Zum, Pumen and other Breakaways stepped to the center of the battlefield, waving their hands, calming the agitated masses. Renna approached an elderly Manku and spoke to him gently, stroking the back of the furry beast's neck. The old Manku turned and barked at the other Manku, then strode to the center of the field and sat.

   Slowly, apprehensively, the other Manku followed him and sat quietly.

   Inspired by this simple, peaceful gesture, the Nocturs threw aside their disguises, exposing themselves as the little people they were. They sat bravely among the Manku, dwarfed by their monstrous bulk.

   "No, you idiots!" Sindar cried out. "This is a trick!  Fight!"

   A small gust of wind unleashed by the Sashwa pushed Sindar's horse downward. The Tullu Tree People blew darts into the horse's rump and the sedated animal gently landed near the Manku and Nocturs. Two men of Isra rushed forward and dragged Sindar from the horse's back.

   "No!" Sindar said, struggling. "Not after all these years of work. Not now!"

   Trudy landed Sarah and addressed the gathered armies from horseback.

   "There is no war, my dear people of Tu-Ni!  There is only time for healing, time for understanding. I call upon Those of the Wisp to sing. We shall turn this lowest moment into our highest!  Let a festival of peace begin!"

   The crowd's confused murmur gradually grew into happy cheers. Trudy hugged Dave tightly, then turned to address Sindar, still thrashing as the men held his arms firmly.

   "Your banishment will commence immediately," she said coolly.

   "Thank you, sister," he snapped. "I will enjoy the time to reflect on the total destruction of Earth."

   "What?" Dave said.

   "Look into the viewing mist, boy, and watch your world turn to fire!"

   Dave gave Trudy a look of horror, then raced to Sarah and swung onto her back. The wind screamed around Dave as the winged horse rocketed up to the castle ledge. He stepped down and ran to the viewing mist. He saw a view of a small military base at the South Pole. Dave watched in agony as a nuclear missile, rockets blazing, rose from its silo.

   "Perhaps I can help."

   Startled, Dave spun around. The king looked at Dave with sadness and shame.

   "It was the only weapon that could not be stopped. Sindar saw to that."

   "How can you help?" Dave asked desperately.

   "I can send you there. Though there is little hope."

   "Do it."

   The king reached out both hands and gripped Dave's shoulders. Dave's eyes closed as the king's hands glowed warmly.

 

 

22

 

 

Darkness. Thunderous, deafening noise. In the cramped blackness, tremendous vibrations rattled Dave's teeth. He groped around, his fingers brushing metal hatches and switches. He flipped a switch down. Nothing happened. He switched it back up. He flipped another switch and a dim fluorescent light flickered on above his head.

   Dave looked around, trying to focus his attention in spite of the earsplitting roar. It appeared to be a maintenance compartment for the missile. He was surrounded by riveted metal plates and steel-alloy cable. He spotted a small door on which were stenciled the words "Observation Port." He disengaged the safety lock and threw the door open, squinting as fierce sunlight flooded the compartment. Pressing his forehead to the cold glass, he looked out.

   He appeared to be near the nose of the missile. Far below him the brilliant white surface of Antarctica dwindled as sunlight and racing clouds gave way to chilling darkness and starlight.

   Gripped by panic, Dave flailed about, ripping at cables and throwing switches in a frenzy. Nothing in the compartment gave even slightly. Dave screamed, a scream he could not hear over the punishing boom of the missile's rockets.

   Overcome by shock, he slumped forward, unconscious, his head banging against the glass. The missile quickly leveled off in the Earth's lower stratosphere.

   The land mass of South America appeared below, streaked with hazy white and deep blue. Dave drifted in and out as the Earth rushed by, dreams and images wrestling in his subconscious.

   Cheerleaders at the high school. Sidney engrossed as he and Dave sit on the bus stop bench in the bright sun.

   Dave's father showing him how to meticulously sand a piece of wood. John Armstrong's hand on his shoulder, guiding him with the unfamiliar tool.

   Reverend Donald speaking to Trudy and Dave, a worried expression on his face. The reverend turns suddenly, reacting to a sound somewhere in the church.

   Through the observation port, North America rolled into view.

   The hobo from the boxcar getting a handout from the waitress at the railroad coffee shop, who smiles at him with kindness.

   Riding with Mrs. McKinnely, laughing as her Oldsmobile 88 bounces into the air after striking a large pothole.

   Canada and Greenland swept below as the missile neared the North Pole.

   Two soldiers standing alongside their truck, one sipping from a soft drink bottle. The other soldier stares nervously across the field.

   The White House tour guide waves the group along, then points at an enormous painting of the Continental Congress.

   Trudy smiling at him, whispering something, something he can't quite hear. He strains to make out her words, which seem so very important.

   Dave struggled to consciousness. Blinking rapidly, he looked outside. Russia appeared below as the missile raced toward Moscow.

   He frantically searched the compartment again and discovered a metal panel labeled "Disarming Mechanism."  He crawled toward it and ripped open the cover. Inside was an intricate jumble of circuits and lights. He tore furiously at the circuits with his fingers.

   With a jolt the missile went into a sharp decline. Dave screamed as a blinding white flash engulfed him.

 

 

   The mushroom cloud towered over Moscow, its nuclear rage annihilating the great city. Before the cloud could dissipate in the hot winds, a quick succession of missiles were launched, rocket trails crisscrossing in the upper atmosphere.

   It was the end of the world.

 

 

23

 

 

Dave lay on a velvet-draped table in the center of the battlefield. It was night. Trudy cradled his head in her lap, caressing his hair.

   "What's happening?" he asked, too weak to sit up.

   "We have brought you back, my dearest brave David."

   "Earth?"

   She placed her hand softly on his cheek. "It is gone, my love."

   Dave tried again to bring himself into a sitting position, but did not have the strength. His eyes flooded with tears.

   The king appeared at his side. "There may be something we can do," he said gently.

   Dave turned toward the voice. In the darkness the king appeared as a silhouette against the flickering light of many torches. The People of Isra formed a great circle around them, holding hands. Beyond them were massed the other peoples of Delva-Tu-Ni, singing a soft, rhythmic melody, the somber music of mourning.

   "Working now as one, we may set this terrible violation of our worlds right."  The king looked at Dave sadly. "There is a price. You will return to the moment you first met, only this time you will not encounter Truzena, and she will never again know you. Our worlds will have never intertwined. You will only have your memories."

   Trudy and Dave hugged passionately, tears streaking down their cheeks.

   "Your love has saved our world," the king said. "This love will now save your Earth."

   The music grew faster, the chanting and singing stronger and more joyous. Dave saw his friends come into the inner circle. Little Sir Lolly hugged him, a tear in his eye. The Manku elder embraced him like a large, blubbering teddy bear. Others kept coming, expressing love and appreciation for what Dave had done for them, and sorrow at his departure. The music built, the rhythm running through Dave's body until he was sobbing with conflicting feelings of loss and joy.

   The last hug came from Trudy, as she peppered his face with wet kisses and hot tears.

   "Live for the good moments," she said.

   She and her father stepped back and joined hands with the other People of Isra and a dazzling glow spread around him as the music grew to a crescendo.

 

 

24

 

 

Dave and Sidney sat on the bench across from the high school.

   "You start out in amateur drag," Sidney said, "or oval, then work your way to semi-pro, get sponsors. I'm practically there now at the Raceway."

   Dave, overcome with emotion, struggled to maintain his composure. "Sid?" he said, his voice cracking, face flushed.

   "Yeah?"

   "Sid?" Dave asked again.

   "What?"  Sidney looked at him oddly. "Are you okay?"

   Dave looked around, brushed back his hair, then took a slow breath. "You work at the concession stand."

   "That's your problem, Dave. Always getting technical."

   "But, but-"

   "But what?" Sidney asked.

   "You sell corn dogs."

   Before Sidney could respond, Dave threw his arms around him. "Damn nice to see you," he said.

   Sidney sat limply, looking at Dave like he had gone mad. Dave, suddenly self-conscious, pulled away.

   "You all right?" Sidney asked.

   "Never better. But I could sure use a burger."

   "Sure," Sidney said. "I'm starving."

   The two walked toward the diner.

   "I guess I'm just in love, Sid."

   Sidney backed away from Dave. "With who?" he asked suspiciously.

   "With a girl from another planet," Dave smiled.

   "In your dreams."

   "Yeah, Sid, in my dreams. She's a princess from the Great Sphere of Delva-Tu-Ni. This place has monsters that turn into little people, and spirits that control the weather. And some can change their appearance at will!"

   Sidney sighed and held the diner door open, the warm smell of frying food wafting around them. "If I gotta listen to this," he said, pointing to Dave, "you buy the burgers."

   "Hey, I owe you for saving my life."

   "Then I'm sure you won't mind covering the shakes and fries, too."

 

____________________________________

 

 

P. W. Alexander
http://www.PhilTheSecurityGuard.com

philguard@mac.com

1-707-545-3174