Authors: Lorijo Metz
McKenzie looked at Hayes. “Pinch me—NOW!”
Instead, he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.
McKenzie slapped his hand and peeled his fingers off her shoulder. “Look at me! I’m not a powerful weapon. I can’t even control the power I have. I mean—Snaps! What am I saying? Principal Provost didn’t send me. If it were up to him, I would still be in his office writing a million-word essay on why I should not touch other people’s belongings. I’m trouble, Pietas. T-R-O-U…
“B-L-E,” finished Hayes. “She is that.”
“Thanks!”
Pietas returned the book to the wall. She waited until the opening disappeared, then turned. “All Circanthians can particle-weave. I assume that is the power to which you’re referring. Perhaps there is a different power you possess. Something that makes you…unique.”
McKenzie didn’t know what to say.
A different power?
One was enough! What’s more, if all Circanthians could…what had Pietas called it?
Particle-weave?
A perfect description.
If they could particle-weave—and much better than she—then how was she supposed to save them?
Pietas stretched her arms and yawned. “Dear me,” she declared, “I have been asleep for four loonocks and am feeling ravenously hungry.” Then, suddenly, she rolled over to the wall at the end of the cave and glanced back. “Come along,” she said and disappeared.
Chapter 11
FBI TRANSCRIPT 21202
Agent Wink Krumm and Rudy B. Hayes
Tuesday, April 21st
KRUMM
: Do you know why you’re here?
HAYES
: That toilet exploding was not my fault. Josh—
KRUMM
: It’s not school related.
HAYES
: Mr. Moore’s tool shed?
KRUMM
:
Not
…Earth related.
Look,…
you know what I’m talking about. We’ve seen the alien dog.
HAYES
: You have?
KRUMM
: Ah ha!
HAYES
: No, no. I mean, ha ha, that’s funny. You’re funny, Agent Krumm, ‘cuz you’re obviously talking about my new poodle. Right?
KRUMM
: You seem nervous.
HAYES
: Me? Nervous. Well, maybe a little. My aunt’s been kinda p, p—punchy lately…with the new poodle and all.
KRUMM
: Not surprising.
HAYES
: Can I go now?
KRUMM
: First, tell me about the new poodle, or should I say…
poonchi
?
HAYES
: Poonchi! Is that a new breed?
KRUMM
: You tell me. In fact, why not save us both the time and tell me the truth. The truth, Mr. Hayes, and then you can leave.
Veritas vos liberabit!
The truth will set you free!
***
LOONOCKS & EPOKS & LOONS, OH MY!
Monday, March 16th
Circanthos
“
M
ac, hurry up! You gotta see the blue trees.”
Though the torches had gone out, the cave glowed dimly under the light of the bioluminescent creatures that lived within its walls. McKenzie leaned forward and touched the spot where Pietas had removed the book. The wall blurred before her tear-filled eyes. She could almost imagine the particles moving aside to reveal the book. So, too…
The broken window, opening…
but not open.
Her mother’s arm, there…
then no longer there.
Her screams…
“Come along dears,” called Pietas. “
Cera san
is quite useless this deep in the forest. We haven’t time to poke about.”
McKenzie pushed herself away from the wall, her heart pounding wildly against her chest. A tear rolled down her cheek.
Who am I?
She wiped her face and turned towards the wall through which Pietas and Hayes had so recently walked.
What am I?
The opening was still there. Pietas acted as if particle-weaving were second nature, like breathing or walking. Surely, she would be able to help McKenzie find out the truth.
Hayes appeared. He held out his hand. “Come on. Even if you are only part of my dream, you gotta see the blue trees.”
McKenzie smiled. “Sure.” Then a thought occurred. If this wasn’t a dream, she would need far more than the truth—she would need Pietas’ help to find their way home.
********
Hayes hadn’t exaggerated. The trunks of the tree were the same blue as the box in Principal Provost’s office. Not only that, but they were at least two elephant-widths wide and grew row upon row as far as the eye could see. “Wow…” murmured McKenzie. The cave had looked like a cave, but this… She ran her fingers across several layers of coarse, pale-blue bark. They really weren’t in Avondale.
Running from tree to tree like wall-to-wall carpet was something that looked like plush, mustard colored moss. There appeared to be no other vegetation. No flowers or weeds. No limbs of any kind until fifty, maybe sixty feet in the air, at which point the canopy was thick with growth and bursting with life. Hints of greens and yellows, aqua blues, and lots of shimmering dark red leaves pushed their way through. There was hardly any space for sunlight to find its way through to the forest floor. Nothing grew farther than a few inches below the bottom-most leaves. And yet, there was light.
“Time to go,” called Pietas.
“EEEEEE, tsoot, tsoot, tsoot!”
Hayes thrust something into McKenzie’s hand.
“EEEEEE, tsoot, tsoot, tsoot!”
“Open it!” he ordered.
The handle was made from the pale-blue wood, while the umbrella-like top was shiny burgundy, like the leaves. Pietas and Hayes were each holding one.
“EEEEEE, tsoot, tsoot, tsoot!” A second later, a mottled glob—McKenzie shuddered to think of what—dropped from above and landed in front of her. Several more globs hit the ground and disappeared, either absorbed, or eaten by the forest floor.
“
Tsootbas
spit,” said Hayes.
“What?”
“Tsootbas spit. They spit when they see movement.”
Images of long slimy tongues raining down wads of spit brewed in McKenzie’s imagination. She pulled her umbrella closer. “How do you know that?”
“That was not a tsootbas,” said Pietas, “Though by the sound of it, they’re close. A tsootbas would not have missed. That was a
sobolis
dropping.” She frowned. “There seem to be ever more of them in the forest since Wells arrived. Regardless, be aware that it is one of the hazards of traveling beneath someone else’s home. Keep your
noofotos
close.”
“Umbrella,” whispered Hayes, pointing to McKenzie’s noofoto.
“Wow, Hayes, you’re like a walking alien dictionary.”
“YE-UK!” Hayes jumped left and snatched up the bowling ball puppy as two globs of something sizzled briefly and disappeared under the moss—inches from where he’d been standing.
“S-S-Sobolis droppings,” he stuttered as the plop, plop, plop of sobolis droppings began striking the moss all around them.
“Holy cow pies,” McKenzie stammered, not knowing whether to go forwards or backwards.
“Come along,” yelled Pietas, “a herd of Soboli have arrived. Time to go.”
McKenzie stuck her noofoto into her wheelchair grip and took off.
“Never coddle a
poonchi
,” called Pietas, glancing over her shoulder at Hayes, “they’re easily spoiled. Put him down; he will follow.”
And so, McKenzie found herself trailing behind Pietas and Hayes, rolling through a forest of endless blue trees. Above them, the canopy creaked and groaned; a continual cacophony of sound, sprinkled with hoots and howls, and sounds so alien they’d begun to take on a particularly nasty appearance in McKenzie’s imagination. Then again, wasn’t her high school principal an alien? How had she missed that?
They traveled for so long, across mustard colored moss, through row upon row of identical pale-blue trunks, McKenzie began to wonder if Pietas was lost. Finally…
“A tad farther and we shall be close enough for me to weave us over to the
Lapis Gathering
.”
After almost losing sight of them several times, McKenzie was now right behind Pietas. “Pietas, what do you call yourselves? If we’re humans, what are you?”
“More importantly, what’s the poonchi’s name?” Hayes was now the one falling behind, and McKenzie suspected, carrying the poonchi again.
“You do have a
flog
of questions,” said Pietas, not bothering to slow down as she spoke, “and I’m sure I would be most pleased to answer them, but not now. We must keep moving. Tsendi could appear at any moment.”
“Are you Tsendi?” asked Hayes.
“Tsendi?” Pietas sounded horrified. “Did I not make it clear? I am a Circanthian. Imagine mistaking me for one of those horrible, greedy little creatures with two scrawny appendages instead of a proper sphere.”
“So, the Tsendi are not from this planet either,” said McKenzie.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Pietas, as though McKenzie should have known better. “What’s more, there are likely several Tsendi spies running above us as we speak.”
They continued on like this for what seemed an hour or more, following a path that defied all logic. Everywhere McKenzie looked there was nothing but pale-blue trees. Suddenly, Pietas stopped. Leaning forward, she wrapped her thick arms around the trunk of a tree and murmured, “Ah hah,” tilting her head back as if to get an ant’s eye view of the bark. “We have arrived. Amazing how much change takes place over the course of four loonocks. It must have been an especially wretched
loon
.”
McKenzie looked around nervously. “Loon? As in bird?”
Pietas frowned. “Shame on Bewfordios for not educating you properly before plopping you on our planet.
Loonock
is the name of the dead, dark moon that circles our planet, cutting off the light of our sans and reeking havoc with our weather for a period lasting twenty-one rotations. A dreadful period we call the loon.
Between the dead moon and the spitting creatures, Circanthos was proving to be a less than hospitable planet. Although… McKenzie glanced from her wheels to the moss. It was definitely easier to maneuver here.
Pietas continued. “The loon occurs every three hundred fifty-six rotations, or seven hundred thirty
epoks
. In addition, there are seven hundred thirty epoks in a loonocks—not to be confused with Loonock, our dead, dark moon. According to Wells, your planet rotates on much the same schedule.
McKenzie was lost. Epok? Loonock?
“I, myself, have been alive for three hundred fifty loonocks. Why
anyone
would celebrate the loon…then again, I suppose the young do enjoy their celebrations. Pietas sighed. I only hope there are enough young Circanthians left to celebrate it.”
“So, what you’re saying,” said Hayes, sounding very serious, “is that a loonocks equals about one Earth-year.”
Pietas nodded.
Hayes’ forehead creased in even deeper concentration. His left eyebrow rose. “But that would mean you’re like—THREE HUNDRED FIFTY YEARS OLD!”
“Give or take a few loonocks.”
“And when you said you slept for four loonocks, you actually slept for—
“Four years,” said McKenzie. Hayes wasn’t the only one who could count.
“I was exhausted.” Pietas yawned, stretching out one arm and ruffling her curls with the other. Can’t seem to sleep more than four loonocks anymore.”
“Four loonocks,” murmured Hayes. “You slept for four years?”
“Concentric, help me,” exclaimed Pietas. “You do talk a lot. Now, let’s hope I’ve managed to judge the distance correctly. I’m not up to doing this twice in one epok.”
“Epok,” echoed Hayes. “That’s half a day.”
“Shush!” said Pietas, pointing up and motioning them to be quiet. Her sphere deflated slightly and she rocked back into a sitting position. “King Charles,” she whispered taking the poonchi from Hayes and stroking the top of his head with her wrinkled old fingers. “You may be stuck with that silly human name, but thanks to me, you’re no longer stuck with H.G. Wells.”
McKenzie frowned. So, H.G. Wells was different from Principal Provost. He must be a Tsendi, she thought.
Then, why does his name sound familiar? And the poonchi… The poonchi had a human name.
“Close your noofotos and be still.” Pietas’ voice dropped to a whisper. “Movement will draw the tsootbas.”
Seconds later, an opening the size and shape of a large door began to blur and form in front of them. A tunnel of swirling particles materialized, much like the portal that had brought them to Circanthos. This time, however, they were not being sucked into it.
“Practice makes perfect,” said Pietas, sounding pleased with herself. “Four loonocks ago I could not leave the forest, save for the power of my own sphere. Now I can weave myself over to the farthest Lapis shore. If you look closely, you will glimpse the
Lapis Sea
.”
“Excuse me,” said Hayes. “If you were asleep for four years—I mean loonocks…” his face was contorted as if he was doing some serious thinking again, “when did you practice?”
Pietas gave a short harrumph and rolled into the portal. Shaking his head, Hayes followed.
As McKenzie rolled into the portal behind them, a whiff of something that could only be described as overripe garbage made her pause. Something bumped into her and she turned—horrified to find herself staring into the most hideous, bulbous, bloodshot eyes she had ever seen. By the time she noticed Hayes’ backpack was gone—so was the creature holding it.
Chapter 12
Excerpt from the personal log of Agent Wink Krumm
Monday, March 16th
Just outside Avondale
continued…
Witnessed this day: Monday, March 16th
A van: An abandoned white Ford van parked smack in the middle of a tiny, one-lane dirt road, over the top of a rise, and about half a mile into the valley.