Fact: Twelve children under the age of eighteen are killed by bats each year
"C'mon, chicken!" Andrew yelled. "It's just a hole!"
"That's why I don't wanna go in!" Becky yelled back. "There's probably bugs and gross stuff in there! What if there's a bear?"
The two children stood among the wet rocks around the Smoke Lake that was near their home. The day before, Andrew had found a deep hole, a cave, built into a cliff, that was too big for him to see the end. He'd found his friend Becky the next day, and now the two of them peered into it.
"There's not going to be a bear in a cave by a lake! He'd drown if he tried to hibernate. Plus it doesn't smell like there's anything in there."
"Why do you know what a bear smells like?" Becky asked. Andrew didn't answer. He took a few cautious steps into the darkness. Becky looked around the corner at him. She was primed to run and get help if something lunged out and snatched him.
Instead, Andrew stood up straight, to his full four foot six height, and waved her in. "Come on, Becky! There's nothing here!" He took out a small flashlight and switched it on; a blue circle of light hit the damp rock wall. A solitary dot of water fell from the ceiling through the light's path. Both children jumped.
"Aw, you scaredy cat!" Andrew shouted. His words bounced back and forth. "You're scared of everything! Now come on!"
Reluctantly, Becky crept in behind Andrew, who pointed his light down the deep distance of the cave. Harsh angles on the wall threw shadows that hid beasts of the imagination that were banished as the two of them moved along and fanned the light over them. They walked through puddles of old lake water, around corners that -- even though Andrew wouldn't admit it -- they expected to conceal a monster, and watched the blue circle of light skate over uneven walls.
Finally they found their way to the biggest room of the cave, a wider area that had a high, bumpy ceiling and rounded walls.
"Wow!" Andrew said. The exclamation came back at them from all angles. "Look at this place! We could build such a cool clubhouse in here!"
"I don't like it," Becky said. "It's too dark. We'd have to have a lot of flashlights."
"Not if we brought, like, candles or something! Then we could have light all the time! No one would be able to find us if we came in here!"
"I don't know. It's dark, and cold, and really far from my house."
"Don't be such a baby! We'd be able to play games and stuff for as long as we want!" Andrew shouted. The circle from his flashlight shot around the room and ran over the ceiling, lighting on dark lumps that covered it.
"I think I want to go home," Becky said. "What if the water level on the lake gets too high? All the candles would go out and we'd get all wet."
"You never want to do anything fun!" Andrew said, placing his hands on his hips. The flashlight settled on a section of the ceiling that didn't seem to appreciate it.
"Yeah I do!" Becky responded. "I just don't want to do it in an icky cave like this!" She inspected the ground at her feet using the dim light. "I think I saw a bug crawl over my shoe!"
Andrew pointed the light at it. "There's nothing there; you're just seeing things!" On the ceiling a red eye opened, and a small body stretched its wings. It was already dusk, it seemed.
"I'm gonna go home!" Becky said, crossing her arms. "You can stay here in this stupid cave until you're blue in the face for all I care! I'm gonna drink a cup of cocoa and watch one of my movies!"
"Oh yeah?! Well, you can just-" a rustle made him stop and turn. "What was that?"
"What was what?"
"I thought I heard something." Andrew started shining his flashlight around the big, circular room. Something that sounded like a tree being blown in the wind came from the ceiling. Slowly, Andrew pointed the flashlight at the ceiling. Dozens or hundreds of eyes reflected the light back at him.
"What are those?" Becky said. Her voice had gotten very quiet.
"I don't know," Andrew said. "I think-"
The bats exploded off the ceiling, turning into a swirling force of brown and black. Andrew and Becky started screaming. The flashlight hit different bats and sent them into confused spirals. The two children ran for the exit of the big room.
Hundreds of bats carried them forward through the system of tunnels, beating them with their wings and feet until the two children spilled out into the fading daylight and the bats funneled up into the sky
Fact: Americans loose an average of sixteen dollars and thirty-two cents per couch.
"Oh, no, wait, I think I see them," Ingrid said, standing at the window of her kitchen. "I think they found the cave that the bats roost in. Yes, she'll be home soon, probably crying in fear and covered in little scratches. Get the band-aids ready. No problem. Good bye." She hung up the phone and watched the two children tear across her backyard toward their houses. She chuckled to herself, and got back to the dishes.
When she was done, she found her husband Gert was asleep on the couch with the TV on in front of him. She watched his thin chest rise and fall. Eventually, she walked up to him and whacked him with the towel. He jumped awake and slid down into the cushions of the couch.
"What'd you have to go and do that for?" He asked, trying to free himself.
"I've got dinner ready. Go and wash up."
Gert struggled, but only sank in deeper. His rear was trapped at the bottom of the couch, and he lacked the leverage to hoist himself out. Ingrid re-entered the room, and found his limbs sticking out in all directions.
"Give me a hand, Ingrid, would you? I'm stuck!" Came his voice from the couch. Ingrid sighed and went around to the front. Gert was small enough for nearly his entire body to fall down into the poofy couch, but with one firm pull he was freed.
He took the time to compose himself. "Thank you. Things got away from me rather quickly."
"I'll say. Now come and eat your dinner."
Soon the two of them ate in silence. Their daughter, Liz, was gone with friends that night, so the absence of her constant chatter was felt. The loudest sound was the tick of their heirloom cuckoo clock. They slurped their soup in silence.
When her bowl was empty, Ingrid rubbed her stomach. "Ah, good. Say, I need a ten for the bingo tomorrow night. Do you have it?"
"Eh? Oh, I suppose." Gert reached into his back pocket and stopped. "Hmm. Wallet's gone missing." He stood. "Where'd I put that old thing?"
"On your dresser? Or the TV?"
Gert wandered into the living room, bow legs drawing him along as his head turned in one direction and then the other. "Can't find it in here," She heard him say. "Maybe in my coat." Ingrid heard a thump and a curse. He'd stubbed his toe. "Not here either!" He called. He came back in to the kitchen, limping slightly, and sat down across from Ingrid. "I'll finish dinner, first."
When they finished, Gert went upstairs to hunt. It couldn't be found on the dresser, among the knick-knacks, pocket knife, spare change, picture frames, aftershave, and uneven, handmade bowls from Liz's earlier years. It wasn't on the nightstand next to the lamp, or in the drawer with a box of tissues.
Gert stood in the middle of the bedroom with one hand on his rump and the other massaging his thin hair. Not in his coat, not in the bedroom. The bathroom? No, he shook his head. There was no way it could have gotten in there. When had he had it last? Well, he remembered its comforting weight in his back pocket when he'd gotten back from the hardware store with his paints and things, and he'd used it there with no problem. Perhaps it was in the truck somewhere? He wandered outside into the cool air. Bats flew in the sky, gobbling up insects. He rummaged in the rusty truck, picking through trash and bags, looking for the cracked and faded black square of leather.
But it wasn't there either. He stood in the dark drive, muttering to himself. He was starting to feel sour. It was quite an important item, that wallet. It had his cards and cash, and especially his Denny's loyalty card. Saturday mornings just wouldn't be the same without a plate of hot hash.
He went back inside. Ingrid was on the couch watching Wheel of Fortune, and as he stalked past, he stopped. He turned his head to look at the couch slowly.
"Gert!" Ingrid said, trying to see around him. "I can't see Pat!"
"The couch!" Gert said. "My wallet probably fell into it when I got stuck! Here, stand up!" He pulled his wife off the couch, and removed the cushions, revealing a tan undercover with rips in it that led down into the dusty darkness of the couch's nether regions.
"I don't see it," Ingrid said.
"It probably fell down one of those holes," Gert said. "Why don't you run and fetch me a flashlight? There might be some more things down in here." He stuck his hand in as Ingrid left to hunt for a light.
He felt nothing, at first. He started to feel the bones of the couch, wooden bars that helped it keep its shape. One of them left a splinter in his pinky, and he bit his lip. He kept searching.
Without realizing it, the couch became something more than just something to sit on. It started to have another side, a hidden dimension contained within it, one that contained all manner of deep and untold treasures. Socks without number, piled high until they reached to the stars. Quarters, that glimmered like minerals in rich loam, enough of them to buy a pair of shoes or a book. Hard candies, still wrapped and still fine to eat, perhaps from a distant Halloween.
He hadn't found the wallet yet, so he searched deeper into the fathoms. He envisioned old treasures, keepsakes from a distant age of youth and energy. Maybe he would find an old Twinkie he'd stashed there to keep Ingrid from finding it. She didn't like it when he snacked too much. Would he eat it, if he found it? Maybe. He imagined a lost postcard from a family member, a key to an old shed, and a mouse trap.
Gert extracted his hand, staring in surprise at the iron bar smashed across his fingers. He didn't scream; instead his mouth hung open with the lips peeled back. He figured the pain hadn't hit him yet. Ingrid entered the room, holding an old flashlight that took more power than most refrigerators, finding him standing straight up, holding his wrist, staring at the mouse trap on his fingers.
She started screaming. He looked at her, and he started screaming. She screamed louder. He screamed louder still.
Fact: Cars don't like people. They will frequently speed when near police officers to get the driver pulled over and, if they're lucky, incarcerated.
Liz sat in the passenger seat of her friend's sedan, singing along to the radio. It was a dull song with high-strung lyrics about love or some such, but Liz sang along anyway. Elise liked to sing in the car and Liz liked to sing along; it was what they did when they drove. Her house, number eighteen on Smoke Lake Drive, was just around the bend.
Something flew in front of the windshield, and Elise shrieked. The car swerved, nearly running off the road. It struck the edge of an already-tilted mailbox, and the passengers heard a dim screech. Once the car was recentered, Elise started to take in deep gasps that echoed inside her small frame.
"I hit something!" She said, her voice high and tense and uncomfortable. "I think that was Mr. Simon's! There's probably a big scratch on my car now! My parents are going to kill me!"
"It's probably not that bad," Liz said. "Elise, calm down. Pull into my driveway and let's look at it." Elise nodded. Her face had drained of color. Gravel crunched under the car's wheels as it rolled to a stop. Elise ejected herself and ran around to Liz's side. She found a solitary gash.
"See?" Elise said. "There's just one. A little bit of paint and it'll be fine."
Elise sniffed. "My dad . . . "
"Explain what happened." Liz laid a calm hand on Elise's shoulder. "Something flew at you. I saw it; it nearly hit the windshield. Anybody would have swerved out of the way. Plus, Mr. Simon's mailbox was already tilted!" Elise looked at her as sad and victimized as Liz had ever seen. "But most importantly, use that face. You're invincible if you use that face." Elise nodded.
Liz watched her drive away, and felt sorry for her, but there wasn't much she could do now except to call Elise's father before she got home and back her up before she even got in the driveway.
She stood with a finger on her lips. That actually wasn't a bad idea.
She pushed open the front door and heard two voices screaming at each other without ceasing, and ran into the living room, where she found her parents. Her father had a mousetrap over three of the fingers on his right hand, and was yelling in, she supposed, pain. Her mother was holding the emergency flashlight and also screaming. The two went on yelling after Liz walked in, and they only stopped when she shouted.
"Hey!" They turned and looked at her. "What's going on?"
Her father lifted his free hand and pointed with a bony finger. "Mousetrap," he said. "In the couch."
"Well, take it off!" Liz said, running forward. Her mother backed away. Liz lifted the bar off her father's fingers and clipped it back under the trigger. She carefully took it away from his hand and set it down on a table near the remote. The skin that had been clamped between the false cheese and the swinging bar was purple and dented. Her father's lower lip was trembling. Her mother came in with an ice pack wrapped in a towel and pressed it against the fingers. He sighed. "Why did you have you hand stuck inside the couch?" Liz asked.
"I was trying to find my wallet," her father said, looking for a place to sit. He found an empty chair.
"You're all right now?" Liz asked. Gert nodded, and Liz went up the stairs to her bedroom. She had a phone call to make.
"Mr. Davis? Hi, it's Liz. No, she's on her way home, but as she was dropping me off, she swerved out of the way of something and nicked Mr. Simon's mailbox. It's just a scratch, but -- what? Oh, it was a bird or something. No, it's just one scratch. Well, it looked sorta deep, but not that bad. I wanted to call and tell you before she got home. I know she gets kind of hysterical." She listened for a minute. "Okay. Goodbye."
That was dealt with. Mr. Davis had taken the time to explain some of the other troubles they'd been having; they mostly involved Elise's younger sister and a cave full of bats.
Liz opened her backpack and took out a stack of books. Each one yearned for her attention. Would she do math first, worry through chemistry equations, or try and squeeze some enjoyment from the dry novels that always, somehow, she seemed to be given in lit class. Since starting high school she had read The Catcher in the Rye twice already, as well as The Great Gatsby, Of Mice and Men, and Lord of the Flies. Her teacher had decided to give her To Kill a Mockingbird this time, and she didn't know if she would enjoy it.
She tried to read, but she kept thinking about Elise and the car. She was worried that Elise's father would be too hard on her, but she was more worried that Elise would be too hard on herself. The girl had the tendency to punish herself for every little mistake. Every low test grade, every social blunder -- everything she did was just another mistake to labor over until it birthed an additional complex.
Liz shook her head. She'd have to make sure Elise was all right the next day at school.
She read for a little while, until she heard her parents talking about a television show, followed by the unmistakeable snap of a mouse trap on poor fingers. Her father started screaming. Sighing, she closed her book and went downstairs.
Fact: One out of every twenty quarters made in 1973 contained a drug that made people relaxed. Handling the coins would absorb part of the drug through the skin.
Mr. Simon's small shop bordered on the eccentric. That is to say, it was on the opposite side of eccentric from normal, and was almost passing all the way around the spectrum, back into mundane. There were springs attached to doo-dads, wheels that spun because of motors for no reason at all, and a stunning collection of hand mirrors. Item upon item attacked the senses. Weaker visitors sometimes had to have a lie down.
It was only Mr. Simon, first name Newt, and his good friend Reed Shernmaker, in the store. The store was never really a crowded place, but it got a few customers a day, it was a fine place to find a niche gift, and every once in a while a collector would enter, straighten his bow tie, and find some lost treasure. Newt Simon loved it.
He was counting coins out of the register. He'd sold a few good items that day, and was finding out how much he'd made. Reed was leaning on the counter, watching him.
The two would wax about this topic or that topic, topping each other with unbelievable facts. Reed aimed an index finger at a coin.
"Is that a '73?" He asked. He picked up the quarter. "By golly! Best be careful with that one, Newt. I hear the gov'ment used a special formula, only during that year! Mixed in a drug with the metal, to make people more relaxed!"
"Seventy-three?" Newt responded, eyeing the coin. "Wasn't that the year of all the car crashes? Most ever in a single calendar, I think!"
"Heavens!" Reed clapped a hand to his forehead. "I think you're right! Well, that explains why they stopped it, then! But watch out, I don't want you taking a snooze in the middle of County Six!"
"Aw, don't worry." Newt tapped his skull, on which sat unkempt gray hair. "I got a mind like a steel trap. Ain't a thing that gets out of there, not while I have my wits!" He paused. "That reminds me, I'm expecting my meds in the mail today."
"Meds?" Reed asked. Newt nodded.
"Yessir. Found out I have a touch of early-onset dementia. Nothing to worry about, I've just been taking a little pill that keeps the ol' thinker in shape! Been doing crosswords and Sudokus, too. I'm as smart as I was when I was a boy."
"So you're a big loon, then?" Reed asked with a smile that peeled his face in half. "I remember you back then! You could hardly keep your shirt buttoned!"
"Like you'd remember!" Newt said, digging out the tens. "You were so busy chasing Mindy Lermen's pigtails you hardly had time for anything else!"
"Maybe true, but they say men who go after woman at a young age are more successful in life!"
"I say that's just because they don't have to worry about finding a lady when they're older, so's they can concentrate on simpler things," Newt responded. He moved on to the twenties. Everybody paid in twenties these days.
"That could be so." Reed took a look around the store. "You aren't closing up early, are you?"
Newt nodded. "Anybody who has the idea to stop in this late on a cold fall night like this will have another chance, that's what I say. Got a few things to take care of at home, not the least of which are those pills I mentioned. I'm supposed to take one a day, and I'm afraid I've been neglecting them. It's not really my fault, I ran out about a week ago."
"It won't hurt you, will it?"
"Naw. I just need to be careful, or I might start forgetting some things." Reed watched as Newt counted the tens. "Don't want that happening, now do we?" Newt said, animated.
"You're sure we don't!" Reed said back with just as much energy. The two men started laughing -- neither was really sure why -- and they kept laughing.
Soon Newt Simon was on his way to his home, working his worn jeep along the empty roads around Smoke Lake. The night seemed active above his head. Newt liked the cold air of autumn, so he normally drove with his jeep open.
He pulled into his driveway, and felt something was odd. He was walking out to his mailbox when he realized what it was. He hadn't seen the old metal thing in the swing of his headlights as he went around the corner. Hunting, he felt it on the ground, ripped out of the dirt.
He opened it frantically. Inside were a few letters, a few advertisements, and a package. He brought it all inside.
In the light of his kitchen, with the vent in the floor gushing warm air, he spread the items out. Unwrapping the package quickly, he feared the worst. It had a big dent in it, and didn't like the way it sounded when he shook it.
The pills, each one secluded from the others by a plastic bubble, looked crushed and smashed. He wondered if he could still save them by just taking the appropriate amount of dust each day. He found a muffin tin and opened the plastic bubbles, gently tipping each portion of dust into a cup in the tin. He quickly ran out of cups. He found a second tin, this one with even more cups, and filled them up. He had just enough space for all of the ruined pills.
He looked at the two metal tins, pleased with himself. He'd salvaged the situation. Now he just needed to find a safe place to put them, and take one of them. He took up both tins, turned around, stumbled on one of his own feet, fell onto his face, and managed to dump both tins face down right over the vent in the floor. Whatever pill powder didn't fall down into the vent was blow up and became part of the air.
He stayed there, with his body stretched out on the floor, staring at the vent. It was all lost. He had no pills.
He picked himself up. He'd have to order more, that was certain. He didn't know if the pharmacy would believe him when he said all the pills had gotten crushed and dumped straight down a vent; it sounded like something a drug maniac would say. He'd have to try, at least.
He looked at the phone attached to the wall, and found he didn't want to go near it. He knew that sometimes phone receivers can steal all of your voice and leave you unable to talk for a day or so.
Fact: All glass is actually a very slow liquid and will, eventually, turn into a puddle.
"Stop moving, honey," Mrs. Davis said. "If you let me put this on it'll stop hurting!"
Becky struggled to keep still sitting on the hard wooden stool in the kitchen. Multiple tiny scratches covered her face and arms, some already had bandages on them. "You're sure you weren't bitten anywhere?" Mrs. Davis asked, checking the girl's hair.
"I don't think so. It was just little scratches," Becky said. She'd fled from the bats with Andrew, gaining a multitude of tiny scratches from the bat's whizzing feet and hands. Mrs. Davis had worried about rabies, and Mr. Davis was know frantically googling something called "rabies postexposure prophylaxis."
"How many scratches does she have?" Mr. Davis yelled from the computer.
"A lot. At least a dozen," Mrs. Davis answered. "Do you want me to count them?"
"No!" There was a pause. "We need to get her to the hospital as soon as we can!"
Becky's face started to crinkle. A tear was squeezed out of her eye.
"Oh, honey, don't cry. Everything's going to be okay. David! Get the keys! Elise, you stay here and do your school work," Mrs. Davis said. Elise, sitting at the breakfast table, nodded. "Come on honey, get your coat on. And, uh, tell me if you feel funny, okay? I'm going to call Andrew's parents." Becky said something as she left the room, but Elise didn't catch it.
In a matter of minutes Elise was alone in the house. Her backpack was on the floor by her feet; her head was on the table. Her father hadn't been mad, apparently Liz had called him before she even got home, but Elise knew that her father was upset. She hated herself for thinking it, but this crises with Becky and the bats might push the car out of his mind.
She went over the moment time and again. Something had flown into the windshield and Elise had swerved, thinking that she was going to hit it. It disappeared, and in its place was Mr. Simon's mailbox. It was at an odd tilt, and hung over the road a little bit like it was weighed down by something. She'd just knicked it, but heard the scratch. She'd also heard the smack as the mailbox hit the cold ground.
Mr. Davis had made her promise to call Mr. Simon and tell him that it was her who had hit his mailbox, and offer to replace it for him. It was only right, she thought, that she be the one to repair the damage she'd done. She didn't know if she'd have to pay for the car. Would her car insurance go up? Would her father allow her to drive? Would Liz want her to drive her home?
There was a knock at the door. Elise pulled herself out of the chair and walked through the dark hallway, and checked out the window. The person on the other side of the door was Mr. Simon, and terror shot through her. She unlocked the door and pulled it open slowly, fearfully.
"M-Mr. Simon! I, uh, I was going to-"
"Not now, child, the Mangrels are upon us!" He dove inside, shutting the door behind him and pressing his body against it. Frantically, with little motions of his head, he looked out the window. He didn't seem to find anything. "Safe."
"Mr. Simon, are you okay?" Elise asked. The man looked at her suddenly, and she stepped back.
"I need to make sure this house isn't infected," he said, and then stepped in, looking in the corners. He licked his lips twice.
"Infected?" Elise asked, worried. "Infected by what?"
"Mangrels! Gormins! A Trio of Tiny Terrible Hats!" Mr. Simon went on, naming things or creatures Elise had never heard of. He was looking under cabinets, at the back of closets, and inside cups.
"Mr. Simon, I . . . I think I hit your mailbox," Elise said, as Mr. Simon was checking the dishwasher. He looked up at her and stood to his full height.
"It was you?" He spoke in a small voice. "You did it?"
"Yes sir," Elise said, looking at her feet. "It was an accident. Something flew in front of the windshield when I was driving. I swerved out of the way and . . . I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hit it!" She looked up at his face. He was glaring down at her with his eyes wide. She suddenly didn't like the situation. He stepped closer, and she closed her eyes. A frightened sound squeaked out of her.
She expected a blow, but instead she felt his long arms wrap around her. "You've freed me," he said in the same small voice. "I finally understand things now!" He released her from the hug.
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye; her eyebrows were pressed together. Mr. Simon spotted an empty glass on the counter next to the sink. "Did you know that eventually, all glass will turn into a liquid? It's true! First we drank from it, soon we'll drink it!" He laughed a strange laugh, one that seemed more like a child watching a puppet show than a grown man.
"Really?" Elise said, looking at the glass.
Mr. Simon nodded. "I can tell you so much, Elise, so many things that you might never have known!" He smiled and tapped the side of his head. "But I know them."
Fact: Hospitals are increasingly found to be staffed by fairies.
"How do you feel, Becky?" The white-coat man asked her. Becky smiled, showing the gaps in her teeth.
"I feel okay," Becky said. This was mostly because of the mild anesthetic that had been given her. Becky heard the doctor, a figure that existed both in and out of reality, speak to her parents. Her parents, at the time, were pylons for her path back to reality. It wasn't as if she wasn't enjoying the light, weightless sensation that filled her body, but she wouldn't mind getting back to her normal state of mind, i.e. one that made it unable for her to smell colors.
Becky sat in the small examination room between her parents, marveling at the way the light from the ceiling shifted. It hadn't ever done that before, but she accepted it as fact. It was interesting, anyway.
Soon the doctor reentered, and revealed, like a magician's trick, a needle that glimmered in the magic light. The doctor had her father help her up to the padded table in a corner of the room.
The small scratches had already been cleaned and treated, as well as her face. They paid special attention to her eyes and mouth. She felt better. The doctor took her arm in his big, gloved hand -- Becky was mystified by the feel of the material on her skin -- and stabbed her with the needle.
Becky saw the needle enter her arm, but didn't feel much. She knew that shots were supposed to hurt, but this one didn't. Did that mean it hadn't worked? Becky watched the doctor's expression. He didn't seem to worry. He didn't worry, so she decided not to worry.
"That's the rabies immunoglobulin injection," the doctor was saying to Mr. and Mrs. Davis, while their daughter swayed back and forth on the table. "Now I'm going to do the actual vaccine."
Another needle was produced -- Becky wasn't sure where from -- and the shot was administered to her in the same way.
"There. I'm going to have the girls out front schedule subsequent visits three, seven, and fourteen days after today. That would be the seventeenth, and then the twenty-first, and . . . " The doctor talked dates. Becky slowly came to realize that the worst was over for today. Her brain, still enjoying the lack of stress that came with the anesthetic, was inventing brand new ways of enjoying herself.
The small doctor's room transformed into a crowded throne room; the doctor and her parents became courtroom attendants. She sat on a padded golden throne, enjoying the treats of her rule. The walls grew fabulous banners, depicting her slaying dragons, defeating armies, and rescuing handsome knights in distress. The room stretched to accompany more people; they came to bend their knees and pledge allegiance to her wise and gifted rule.
She would accept them, but she first had to bestow a gift on the magician that had saved her life from an evil curse. She sat up in her throne. "Dear sir," she said eloquently. "You've saved me and my kingdom. For you, anything up to half of the kingdom will be yours!"
At least, that's what she thought she said. What she actually said, after wiggling around on the padded table, was "My sure, tumon femem me and nah!" She gestured around the room. The three adults in the room looked at each other and tried not to laugh. "Du smudge hagin ton!"
"That'll wear off in a few hours. You're free to take her home once you talk to the front desk. Be sure to keep an eye on her." The Davis' smiled and thanked him, and Becky basked in the imagined adoration of her subjects.
Queen Becky found herself on a coach ride through the country, something that she believed would rid whatever remained of the curse from her. Trusted retainers guided the horses, and she watched the countryside blur by her window. The coach seemed to be going faster than normal.
They arrived at her winter home, a tall castle next to lake that seemed to be made from pure crystal. Her castle reached to the starry sky, full of turrets and walls and warm rooms with warm beds covered in blankets. She decided she wanted a bowl of her favorite treat, crushed ice with melted cocoa beans on them. Her servants got busy getting it for her, and she took a tour around the castle, making sure everything was in order, but some things seemed strange. At first it was just the fact that one of her servants was trailing her through the castle, but that wasn't so strange.
Then she began to notice stranger things. The rooms -- they were all the same. They weren't identical, but every, say, three rooms she would go into would be the same three rooms as the three before. The same chairs and tables and torches set in the walls. Queen Becky looked around. Was it still the curse? There must have been some explanation.
All at once the servant took her hand and led her into where her treat was waiting, just a room away. The Queen was surprised. She had gone through thirty or more rooms, all in the same direction! How could she be back here so soon?
She ate the crushed ice. Somebody was doing this to her. Was it the magician? He had accepted her generous offer, taking for himself a 'feweaours,' and a 'taflontdkesk,' whatever those were. He might be trying to get more out of her.
She looked up from her bowl. It was a spell, of course! He'd cast a spell on her when asking for the strange items, she should have seen it before! She needed help.
The Queen needed her knight.
Fact: Leaves are made up of small, indistinct leaves. Those leaves are also made up of smaller leaves, and so on.
"My parents are going to worry about me!" Elise said frantically as Mr. Simon dragged her along.
"No need to worry about them! I left them a note!" He actually had. It read: "Davis': stopped by to talk to Elise. Took her out to look at the mailbox. Call me for anything. Signed Nathaniel Erebus Simon." His middle name was not Erebus.
"Are you sure you're okay, Mr. Simon?" Elise asked.
"Perfectly, child! I can finally see through the rain!"
Elise looked around. "I don't see any rain."
"Then you cannot see through it!" Mr. Simon said. "What adventures await us when we journey?" He asked nobody as they stepped through piles of leaves on their way to his house. "Careful now! The tree-droppings are dangerous!"
Becky looked down. "They're just leaves, Mr. Simon."
"Just leaves? No!" He swept her out of the pile. "There could be demons!"
"In the leaves?"
"Respect your elders, girl," Mr. Simon said simply, before moving on. Becky hurried to keep up with him. He seemed trapped by frenetic energy. Becky wondered again if going with him right now was really worth it. Well, at least she'd be able to keep him out of trouble. Probably.
"We're just going to your mailbox, right Mr. Simon?"
"Of course! At first, at least. At most, we travel the world over, righting wrongs and solving crimes!"
Becky was starting to doubt how well she'd do keeping him out of trouble. "Or, Mr. Simon, now this is just a suggestion, we go back to your house, you have a nice cup of cocoa, and then take a lie down. How does that sound?"
"When evil rampages over the land? Never!" Mr. Simon loped away, striding in an unknown direction. Becky ran behind him. What was she supposed to do? They weren't even heading toward his house anymore!
She had an idea. She dug out her cell phone and called Liz.
"Hi Liz," she said quietly, afraid that the not-so-with-it Mr. Simon would have an issue with her being on the phone. "I'm with Mr. Simon right now. You're not going to believe what's happened." Elise went on to explain where she was and what she was doing wandering through the dark lakeside. "I don't know what to do! He's not listening to anything I say! I'm afraid he's going to get himself hurt!"
"I can't exactly leave right now," Liz said. "My dad got his hand stuck in a mousetrap three times and he's kind of loopy from the pain right now. My mom gave him some painkillers but I don't know if they've started working yet." Liz paused. "Tell you what. Why don't you come by my house. We can figure something out here."
"Mr. Simon!" Elise said. "Uh . . . I know where we can find someone in need!"
"What? Really?" The old man looked at her expectantly. "Tell me, child!"
"There's uh . . . " Elise thought of the first thing that came to mind when she tried to picture someone in need, and someone who was willing to help. "There's an old wizard in pain! He needs help!"
"Wizard?!" Mr. Simon narrowed his eyes and turned his head. "This is no trick?"
"No!" Elise said. "It's no trick, I promise!"
Mr. Simon stood between two trees, thinking. After a minute, he nodded once, long and slow. "Take me."
Fact: There's a wizard behind you.
Liz ran to the door as soon as she heard the knock. She could barely get the door open before Mr. Simon strode in with his chest puffed out. "Your hero is here!" He called.
Ingrid walked in from the kitchen. "Oh hello Mr. Simon! How are you? And . . . " She'd spotted Elise. "Elise is with you. How . . . strange."
"Tell me where the wizard is, and I will help him!"
Liz looked at Elise, who shrugged. "I couldn't think of anything else to say to him."
"The wizard is here!" Said a wavering voice from the living room. Mr. Simon walked past Ingrid into the room. The TV was on, and Gert sat on the couch with a slightly bloody bandage around his fingers. His eyes looked bleary, and he seemed to have difficulty focusing on Mr. Simon, who had struck a pose.
"The pills kicked in after you called," Liz explained to Elise. "It's made him very trusting, to the point of being impressionable."
"That might make things difficult. So far Mr. Simon has told me of five things that have demons in them.
"Honored sir," Mr. Simon said, dropping to one knee. "I'm here to heal your ailments. Send me on a quest, and I shall return victorious!"
The three women in the room looked at each other with worried faces, each one trying to come up with a solution to a problem that was appearing right before their eyes. Liz won.
"His wallet!" She shouted. Mr. Simon looked at her. "He can't find his wallet! It's been missing all night!"
Mr. Simon stood. "It will be my honor, but I ask something in return." He pointed at Liz. "The wizard's daughter, who knows the quest, shall accompany me and my squire! A powerful ally she shall be!"
Liz looked at her mother. "Are you all finished with your homework?" Ingrid asked. Liz nodded. "Make sure you have your cell phone. And, uh, maybe try to convince him to just stay home."
"I've been trying to do that all night," Elise said. "He won't listen." Mr. Simon was already heading for the door. "Mr. Simon, don't you think that maybe his lost wallet is somewhere inside his ho . . . castle?"
Mr. Simon's head appeared around the corner and shook. "My instincts have never let me down before, and right now they say that the wizard's wallet is without!"
"Without?" Liz asked. "I guess that means outside. We'd better keep up with him. He's likely to think he can fly soon."
Fact: Magicians are well-known for their deplorable desire for personal power.
The stiff wind blew brave Sir Simon's hair behind him in a fan, providing a remarkable profile to anyone lucky enough to witness it. The sun had dropped, and the moon hid behind the clouds as a coward might. Sir Simon looked at his two companions: a young and unassuming servant girl, and the daughter of a powerful wizard. They both seemed tired, but Sir Simon was used to the peasantry not possessing his legendary endurance.
The wizard had given him an important task. Find his book of spells, the mystical Wal-let. Becoming successful in this task was sure to make him a hero in the eyes of the people. He would be honored at the next tournament, he was certain.
"What do you think he's thinking about?" Liz asked Elise. Elise shrugged.
The journey would not be easy, Sir Simon knew. He'd had past deals with wizards; their presence in a situation made it impossible for things to be simple. There was always some hidden element . . . a piece of the puzzle that was being kept from him. This was why he'd requested the wizard's daughter accompany them. A scion to his power, yes, but also a bargaining chip if the wizard turned out to be less than trustworthy. Sir Simon would never hurt a child, but the wizard didn't know that.
"Come, young ones!" Sir Simon said to the two that trailed after him, talking about childish things. "It looks like there's a light coming from over this hill! Be it travelers, we should ask them if they know anything about the wizard's Wal-let!"
"Mr. Simon, it's just a streetlight," Liz said. She had a poofy jacket and a hat on. Her mother made her take her gloves, but they were jammed into her pockets.
"I've never heard such a word," Sir Simon responded. He crested the hill and stood with his hands on his hips. He would have rested a hand on the hilt of his sword, but he didn't have it. A wench had it. Near a seemingly well-traveled path was a long pole with a light hanging from the end of it. The light didn't seem to come from flame, but instead a smooth globe. "Magic!" Sir Simon exclaimed. "Never in my life have I seen it used!"
"You have, Mr. Simon!" Elise said. "You see it every day!"
"What, you say?" Sir Simon said, turning to look at the servant girl. "I tell you, I've never seen it! No flame, no smoke! From the very air itself does the light come!"
Liz and Elise looked at each other, both trying to figure out the right thing to say at this moment.
"What purpose does it serve?" Sir Simon wondered. He rubbed his chin.
"It's an outpost, so that . . . weary travelers can . . . rest for a moment, made safe by the magic light," Liz offered.
"Ah, of course! It's kind of the magicians to use their power for good, instead of the deplorable desire for personal power!" Sir Simon walked forward through the trees until he stood in the circle of dull orange light afforded by the "streetlight."
"What do we do?" Elise asked Liz. The girl was beginning to panic, Liz saw, and knew she needed to do something about it.
"He's living out some sort of medieval fantasy. We can probably use that to our advantage in some way," Liz said. She looked around trying to figure out where in the wooded area around Smoke Lake they were. "Are we somewhere near your house?"
Elise also looked around, trying to place the road and the trees. "I think we might be. Do we want to go there?"
Liz nodded. "If anything else, it will help us stay inside, which will probably help us stay out of trouble at the very least."
"Okay." Elisa gulped. "Mr. Simon, uh . . . " She looked back at Liz, who nodded her on. "W-we know somewhere where we might find out more information about our quest."
"Truly?" Sir Simon said, turning and glaring at the servant girl gallantly. The girl seemed cowed, as many people are when Sir Simon glares at them.
"Yes. Yes sir. There's a, uh, abode some ways down the road. There we can rest, and perhaps, uh, find out some information. It's a safe place, with no . . ." Elise paused and tried to think of the right word. "Marauders."
Sir Simon considered the option. "No marauders is always a good thing. I don't need to rest, but I understand that you children need more rest than I do." Liz, who ran cross country, rolled her eyes. "I accept! Which direction?"
Elise pointed down the road, and the three of them headed toward Elise's house.
Fact: Nine out of ten ladies-in-waiting prefer the local section of the paper.
Queen Becky was not enjoying her night. Something in the air was making the hairs on the back of her neck bristle. There was a charge that followed her as she wandered in the labyrinthine halls of her home. She felt confused and unsettled.
Her servants were worse. When before she'd had scores of menservants and waiting ladies, now she had only two. At least, that was how it seemed. It was possible that all her bevy of helpers just looked the same, changed by the same energy that trailed her as she wandered.
Or perhaps it was the servants doing it! They never left her alone, even when they were ordered to. Queen Becky's words, which before had shifted armies and stunned nations, now had no power. She would speak, assuming that her words would be followed down to the letter, but they came out strained and twisted, and ultimately ignored.
She was in one room at the outside of the castle, staring out the window. The land even seemed changed. Once there were blacksmiths, soldiers, and bakers walking in the court; now there was nothing.
It was dark, that was one. There should have been torches lining the courtyard. Were there no torches, or was there no courtyard?
Queen Becky noticed something. There were people coming to the front entrance of the castle! She risked a look at the servant, a woman, that had been following her. She was languishing in an armchair, reading something. The Queen turned to look again out the window at the approaching people. She thought she recognized one of them, but the darkness made it difficult.
She waited a few seconds, and then bolted for the front hall. The servant squawked at her, but she ignored it. Throwing the door open, she raced into the courtyard.
The sudden sky and cold air shocked her into stillness. More shocking was the revelation that one of the travelers was her sister.
"Hi Becky," Elise said. "Everything go okay at the hospital?"
Queen Becky reeled backward. Her sister, the one passed over in favor of her when the next Queen was decided! Still technically a princess, but she had promised revenge on the true Queen, Becky, and her subjects! Now she returned with a strange band -- a tall man and a woman her age.
And she'd spoken of the place when all this confusion had first began! There was no doubt that she was in league with whatever foul power had placed Queen Becky in her fugue. She needed help! But from whom?
Her servants were against her, that much was certain. These three surely bore her no good will. Who else?
There was but one person she could turn to. Queen Becky stood at the edge of a dangerous decision.
She decided to leap.
She had not her coat, nor her hat, or even her boots, but the cool dark opened with welcoming arms as she tore off, away from the castle and these three attackers, away toward a man that lived in her domain, the Earl of Andrew.
"Becky?" Elise called after her. "Where are you going? You don't even have your shoes on!"
"Becky?" Mrs. Davis shouted, right on the heels of her daughter. "Becky, come back!"
"What the heck?" Liz said. Mr. Simon only silently watched.
"Why did she do that?" Elise asked.
"She had to have a shot at the hospital. It made her a little bit loopy. We've had to follow her around the house all night to make sure she didn't get in trouble. She must have run out here when she saw you coming!"
"As soon as she saw me, she looked scared, and then just ran off!" Elise said.
"You wouldn't believe the sorts of things she's been saying! Mostly it's been just gobbledegook, but sometimes she says things like 'Queen,' or 'castle.' I think she thinks she's in one of her movies!"
"Queen?" Mr. Simon said, coming somewhat out of a deep train of thought.
"Oh no," Liz said.
"Her majesty is in danger!?" Sir Simon shouted, stepping forward, in the direction Becky ran.
"Mr. Simon?" Mrs. Davis said, seemingly just noticing the man.
"It's a long story, Mom," Elise said.
Fact: The stink of sorcery is a lot like bad tuna. Which is a lot like good tuna.
The wizard's Wal-let had just been a red herring, a ruse to get him started on this quest. Sir Simon know knew that the real journey would be to bring the young Queen back safely.
"The fates have transpired to make us available to save the Queen!" Sir Simon crowed. "Quickly! We must hurry after her!" Sir Simon shifted his eyes to both sides. "The night is heavy with the stink of sorcery."
The three females looked at Mr. Simon for a moment. Then Mrs. Davis looked at Elise. "Elise, I want you to go find your sister. Your father and I will call around to tell them to look out for her. Mr. Simon, would you mind going with the girls?"
Sir Simon was blanching at Mrs. Davis. He looked at Elise. "Sister!"
"Oohhh . . . " Elise said.
"All this time, I've been traveling with a princess!" Sir Simon sank to his knee, as is proper. "Forgive my rudeness; had I known I was in the presence of royalty, I would have offered you the respect you deserve!"
"Why is he saying that?" Mrs. Davis asked Liz.
"We aren't really sure."
"Come Princess, we must act fast to keep your queen sister safe!" He looked behind him at Liz. "Magic one, please join us! We will need your skills; surely you will be helpful on this quest!"
Liz sighed and walked after Mr. Simon and Elise, leaving a thoroughly confused Mrs. Davis.
Fact: If you get too cold, You can see through thinner parts of your skin.
Queen Becky raced through the trees outside her castle. There shouldn't be trees. She didn't remember trees. She remembered wide plains for cattle and horses to graze, and slow trickling brooks, not this chilling forest of confusion and danger.
Her fingers were cold, but her feet were worse. After only running for about a minute she could hardly feel them. Five more minutes and she had to look down to remind herself they were there.
Where would the Earl of Andrew be? Nowhere near, that was for sure. The land around her was unrecognizable.
Yet she felt drawn in one direction. Maybe she was not alone; perhaps something was helping her but remaining hidden. She stopped and looked around. She couldn't see a thing except for the trees that were closest, the cold ground under her feet, and the starry sky.
She heard a rustle behind her, and she turned, frightened. There was nothing there. Another rustle to her right, but that area was empty also. She started to hear it more and more in the space around her; the night was full of sound that came from nothing. A dark shape flew in front of her.
Her brain, as it slowly drained of the confusing chemical cocktail that had sent her running into the woods, felt the grip of fear. The shapes that flew around her, beating their leather wings, were the source of all the mystery. She could not say what they were, but she knew it was their fault that she was cold, alone, afraid, and confused.
The drug was finally beginning to wear off. Queen Becky felt the world slip around her. First it wasn't as it should have been, second it became different even from that. Finally all that was left was cold and fear and sadness; Becky sat down and wrapped her arms around her legs. She didn't know where she was, she didn't know when it was, and she didn't like all the bats that flew over her head, hunting for food. She felt like she'd just awoken from a dream.
Fact: Mercenaries have been an issue around Smoke Lake in the past, but thankfully no longer.
"Becky!" Elise called. "Becky, where are you?" Her shout bounced off of the cold trees. "Becky!"
"Queen Becky!" Mr. Simon yelled. "Queen Becky, come back to us! You're in danger!"
"Don't say that!" Liz said. "We don't want to scare her any more than she already is!"
"But she is in danger!" Mr. Simon said. "The night is cold and dark; she could fall and hurt herself or get lost!" He paused and surveyed the area. "Not to mention any mercenary that might take it upon himself to kidnap her!"
"She really doesn't have to worry about that," Liz said. "Just keep calling her name!"
"You can't order me around! I'm a knight!"
"I might not be able to, but my father can certainly find a way to entice you. By, say, not turning you into a newt?" Liz said.
Mr. Simon kept silent, then turned away from Liz. "Queen Becky! Queen Becky come back to us! Your sister wishes for your safe return!"
"This is getting more and more difficult to deal with," Liz said to Elise. Elise nodded. "I'm still not really sure what we're supposed to do with Mr. Simon once we find your sister."
"He doesn't have any of the pills he needs. I think that's why he's acting this way." Elise looked at her feet. "I crushed the pills when I hit his mailbox."
"Maybe we can keep him at your house when we bring Becky back and call someone to help him," Liz said.
"Okay, but we need to find Becky first."
Liz nodded, and cupped her mouth. "Becky! Becky!"
"I think I hear something!" Mr. Simon said. "It's coming from over there!" He pointed to their right, and ran. Liz and Elise hurried to keep up with him; his long legs gave him a great stride.
They went between the trees and through the piles of leaves. Mr. Simon was heading unerringly toward something that neither of the girls could see.
They began to hear things, though. It sounded like a tree full of leaves, but this late in fall there couldn't be such a thing. They followed Mr. Simon deeper and deeper into the wooded area.
"There!" Mr. Simon said quietly, pointing again. He pointed a little off to their left. Liz and Elise could see a shape huddled on the ground. They ran to it.
"Becky!" Elise said. She knelt down next to her sister. "Becky?"
"Elise?" The young girl asked. "I don't know how I got here. I'm cold."
"It's okay, we'll take you back right now."
"My Queen!" Mr. Simon said, bending to one knee next to Becky. "My heart is glad you're safe."
"Mr. Simon?" Becky said. She looked up at Elise and Liz.
"It's sort of complicated," Liz said. "We need to get you back to your house as soon as we can. Mr. Simon, can you carry her?"
"Of course!" Mr. Simon said, stepping forward.
A clatter of wings over their heads stopped them. All four of them looked up. The trees were filled with hanging bats. Little dots of light stared down at them.
Becky squealed and hid her face, twisting and latching to the tree behind her. Instead of picking her up, Mr. Simon looked up at the bats. He took a long breath.
"Evil things!" He said. "Fly from this place! No more will you terrorize this seed of kingdoms, this being of light! Let yourselves know, and let all of your kind know that Sir Simon, he that has traveled with wizards and Princesses, banishes you!" He puffed out his chest and clamped his hips with his hands. "Spread your black radiance no longer, and draw the evil from this place as you have set it down!"
To Elise's surprise, Liz stood next to him. "Just as this brave knight commands, so does the daughter of the wizard! Go!" She shouted. "Leave us!"
The bats still did nothing. Their small heads swiveled to look at each of them. Liz looked down at Elise and gestured with her head. Shakily, Elise got to her feet.
"Th-the Princess, sister to the Queen, says: Go!" She looked at Liz, who nodded her on. "Your dark works have failed; the Kingdom remains safe! Your shadow gives us no fear, and your bright eyes do not banish the light from us! Go back to where your evil kind can play and scheme in the cold and black, away from the light and the warmth!"
The bats remained still.
Mr. Simon picked up a rock and threw it at the closest one; it and all the other bats scattered and flew away, leaving the trees light and bare.
"They're gone, Becky," Elise said. "Ready to go home now?"
Becky looked around. She nodded.
"That was cool," Becky said, as she rode on Mr. Simon's back. "It was like something from one of my movies!"
"It kind of was," Elise said.
Fact: Gandhi was known as "Sir Gandhi the Thin."
When they got back to Elise and Becky's house, they found a police car and an ambulance. Mrs. Davis explained she had called the police and told them everything. Liz had to quickly explain that the 'blue-robed monks,' as Mr. Simon called them, were no danger to them.
Becky was bundled up, and the story explained to her. The anesthetic had finally worn off at that point, but she could barely stay awake. She was taken inside by her mother.
The police officer escorted the ambulance away; the girls were told that Mr. Simon had suffered a delusional break but he should get better. Liz and Elise watched the two vehicles pull out of the driveway and head along the road.
"Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn," Liz said.
"What?" Elise said.
"It's a quote by Gandhi. I think it's about how each day is a new opportunity."
"This has been a pretty weird night," Elise said. Liz agreed.
"Oh crap!" Liz said suddenly.
"What? What's wrong?"
"I still don't know where my dad's wallet is!"
Elise started laughing, and after a moment Liz joined her. "As a princess of the realm, I'd be glad to help you find the great wizard's wallet!" Elise said.
"No evil will be able to defeat us!" Liz said, raising her fist in the air with defiance.
"Our journey will be known far and wide!" Elise called. "Sung by bards and whispered by the townsfolk around the fire!"
"The Princess, and the wizard's daughter!" Liz said, laughing. The two started walking back inside.
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