Authors: Don Hurst
Vicki's explanation could be a puzzle piece missing from Paul's parallel-imagined-life that might help them survive inside Horrid Castle.
"Paulie, he told me he'd let me go once you found me,” Vicki explained. “I think it all has something to do with Calamity Horrid.” She shook her head. “But he promised."
"Guess it proves you can't trust a gorilla."
"Especially such a giant one.” Vicki laughed, grew serious and frowned. “If he wanted to hurt me all he had to do is squeeze. I think maybe he didn't because there's a room waiting for me. I'm not sure, but I think Claude Nab only does what Calamity Horrid tells him to do. At least I've heard her ordering Claude around and not the other way around."
"I'll test the stairs first,” Paul offered. “If they swallow me, maybe you can get the girls to help pull me out."
"Let me go first. If the stairs swallow you, how would I get to the top? I don't seem to be in my imagined-parallel-life, remember?"
Paul swept his hand toward the stairs. “Ladies first."
Vicki jumped onto the first stair. She smiled and climbed to the top without a single stair grabbing at her. “Come on up,” she called. “Join your queen, king."
He tried the first step. “Neat,” he said. The steps weren't a bit slippery. But why would steps of ice be slippery in his imagined-life if he had to climb them? Wouldn't make sense.
When Paul reached Vicki, they stood in the main lobby. In front of them seven passageways branched out, well illuminated by golden sunlight filtering through skylights and window slits. Paul could fly apart all he wanted and he still wouldn't have enough limbs to search all the passageways. He shut his eyes and imagined the seven hallways becoming one. He opened his eyes. “Guess I didn't imagine this place,” he said to himself.
In the far right passageway a door flew open. A piercing scream burst out from the doorway. The door slammed shut, but the shriek echoed in Paul's head looking for its spot to haunt his memory.
Vicki smiled. “That's Alice."
"Does she scream like often?” Paul's brow wrinkled with concern.
"Only at noon,” Vicki explained. “Except on Fridays. Then she screams at one o'clock. It's how we keep track of time and the days of the week here in the castle. I was scheduled for a Monday morning scream at 5:00 A.M. according to Claude Nab."
"Don't they have clocks?"
"No, that's why they scream, Claude said."
"But how do they know when to scream?"
Vicki grinned at her big brother. “They guess, I guess."
A small voice interrupted their fact-finding mission. “Inner clock,” Reshape said from his new wall clock form, his red second hand sweeping around a numberless pink face. He hung at eye level on the nearby ice wall. The voice strengthened. “Perhaps."
"How do you know all this, Sis? You were here less than a day.” He felt a particular pride in his total ability to ignore Reshape.
"I'm a quick study, Paulie. You know that."
"Yes, my queen.” Paul bowed and wished his nose could touch the floor in giving his sister a bend she'd never forget. His nose fell from his face onto the maroon carpet, bounced and reattached. He remembered the floor had been ice, not carpet. The clock had disappeared.
Vicki stared at him, smiling and not saying a word. He knew she had to be impressed with his nose drop, but he found no pleasure in it. All too aware he experienced everything within his imagined-life, he expected his bow to take his nose to the floor in an exaggerated bend, with it still attached to his face.
The carpet disappeared and the ice floor returned, as did Reshape as a puppy with a kitten head.
Paul nodded and flashed a grin to thank him for becoming a soft place for his schnozzle to bounce. He rechecked his nose to make sure it had attached straight, thinking if upside-down it would allow bugs to drop into it. He blew air through it to make sure it still worked. All seemed to be in operating order.
"How's Isno?” Vicki asked Reshape, who had returned to his numberless, pink clock form.
"He waited for Claude Nab to regain consciousness, and jumped on top of his head and the big ape knocked himself out again.” His secondhand flew in a circle, pointing at nothing.
"Sis, King Kong brings it on himself."
"It isn't easy to be an oversized gorilla, even in this cloud world, Paulie."
Paul stared at her, completely puzzled. “You feel sorry for that beast after he kidnapped you?” He shook his head. Surely villains were difficult to establish in Vicki's world. Should he admire or question her understandings of bad guys? “Sis, we're here to save the girls, right?"
"Yes, of course. First, each hallway is a day of the week."
They walked to the far left and looked up at the golden nametag above its archway.
SUNDAY.
"Each passage has the rooms of all the girls collected in one year,” Vicki explained.
Paul looked up at the brass plate. It had changed into
SUNDAY—SEVENTH YEAR ACQUISITIONS
. “Sis, are you part of my imaginary life?"
"I think you imagine things after I tell you about them."
"Okay, let's go in,” Paul said, leading the way.
"Kid Badd could be in there,” Reshape said as a tan wiener. The upright floating frankfurter belched. “Sorry about that, kids. Did Frank Furter get any mustard on you?"
"Can't you control yourself?” Vickie asked, sounding exasperated.
"I don't get it, Reshape,” Paul said. “Instead of being our guide, you're a hotdog. Why?"
Vicki saw the absurdity of listening to a wiener and giggled.
"Change shape,” Paul ordered, and drew in a disbelieving breath. As if putting on a coat, a bun grew around the wiener.
"Oh, for gosh sake. Go away,” Paul ordered.
"Don't we need him?” Vickie asked, staring at the bun wrapped wiener. “Weenie, are you cooked?” She laughed, holding up a hand in an I-don't-expect-an-answer gesture.
Paul found this funny until a thought crossed his mind and squeezed the humor out of him.
Save the girls. Save Vicki. Save the solar system
! He looked at Vickie. “I think he's more than a guide."
She nodded.
"He's the comic relief so we don't have to go it alone."
Vicki remained silent as they walked into the hallway, keeping a careful eye out for Kid Badd.
The first door had a brass tag:
ENTER
. Paul pushed the slab of ice inward and walked into the room with Vicki following. They stood in a bare room with four unadorned ice walls. The soft light didn't seem to have a source. The space darkened.
"Welcome, my playthings!” Claude Nab emerged out of a wall, being too large to fit through the door. He bounded into the enclosure, growing until his head touched the ice ceiling. “Come to play, my pets?"
Paul's legs refused to move, but his mouth could. “Where's my cat?"
The gorilla's hands closed into fists and he bent over, and smashed fist against fist as he pumped his muscles. He quivered and roared, “Don't
ever
ask me about that cat! Not ever, stupid lad! Never!"
Vicki wrapped her arms around Paul's waist. “You can't talk to him when he's angry."
Paul and Vicki turned and ran out of the room. They sprinted back into the main hall and down the first passageway they came to. Their relocation happened with the speed one would expect when having to escape an oversized gorilla. They knocked desperately on the first door they came to. The brass plate on the door read:
RESERVED FOR FURTHER ACQUISITIONS
. Paul pushed open the ice door. Claude Nab came at them from a far wall.
Reshape materialized as a carpet under their feet, jerked and caused Paul and Vicki to fall to their knees as Claude Nab attempted to grab them. The great gorilla missed as his hand flew over their heads.
"Strike one,” the carpet said, protectively wrapping around Paul and Vicki. The ape's arm hairs dragged across the carpet's backing as it passed over and again missed his mark. “Strike two.” The carpet disappeared and in its place Reshape became a seductive female ape, hairy hands on swaying hips. “Oh, Claude, nab me."
Paul and Vicki dived out of the room and the door slid shut. They heard Reshape's voice inside.
"Strike three. Take a walk!"
"That's not right,” Paul said. “Three strikes means you're out. A walk is four balls."
Vicki smiled. “Why not have four strikes and five balls?"
"Girls sometimes just don't understand baseball,” Paul explained patiently. “It can only be three strikes and you're out. But... in this case, I guess a walk is out."
The door splintered into crushed ice. Reshape in the character of the Road Runner cartoon character bounded out, closely followed by a loud Claude Nab roar.
"Meep. Meep. I think he's mad,” Reshape warned.
Paul and Vicki ran from the hallway to the far left passageway. They sprinted down the hall and sucked in gulps of air and held onto their sides.
"Let's go to Wednesday's hall. There's someone I want you to meet. Fourth hall over,” Vicki said.
"Will's sister Holly,” Paul reminded Vicki. “Is that where we're going?"
"I thought we'd wait for her brother."
They walked along the Wednesday passageway, looking at the door nameplates. Vicki stopped in front of the one labeled:
FAWN
. She pushed the nameplate and music came from inside the room.
"I should've remembered. That's how you know whether Claude Nab is in the room,” Vicki said. “Music, no Claude; no music, leave. Fast."
The door opened.
A girl slightly shorter than Paul, slender and trim, wearing a pink ballet leotard stood in the doorway. Her hazel eyes shone with aliveness as her smile reached inside Paul to instantly claim ownership of his heart. But Fawn wouldn't know she had this effect on her visitor, being as usually more time is needed for such a reaction. Her shoulder length auburn hair glowed in the soft golden interior light.
Paul's breath came in short gasps, despite his determination to act like a gallant, courteous gentleman.
"Fawn Victor, meet my brother Paulie. I mean, Paul,” Vicki said as Paul tried to discover where his courage hid.
"Nice to meet you,” Fawn said, and to Paul it seemed she sang the words.
Vicki squeezed Paul's arm. “I thought you'd like her,” she whispered into his ear.
"Please don't be Reshape,” Paul said. He couldn't remember in all of his fourteen years a girl affecting him quite this way. “I mean, you're too good to be true. I mean, you're true to be good. I mean, I'm not this stupid all the time."
She reached out, took Paul's hand and led him into the room. Her hand felt warm and soft, and he yearned for the Middle Ages when men kissed the back of a lady's hand, but at the same time he had to be very careful about his wishes. Paul's face felt warm and he knew he blushed, and the harder he tried to unblush the hotter his face became.
"She's thirteen and has been here for two years,” Vicki said. “She screams at six in the afternoon. If I had an older sister she'd be like Fawn."
Paul didn't know what to say or think, so he looked around the room. The light was soft, restful, and had a warm yellow glow to it. One wall consisted of a mirror, and in front a polished rail, like the bars in the ballet class at Morris Junior High back on Earth. He knew some of the guys took the class to meet girls, but only a few lasted, finding it too much of a workout; or too embarrassing at being out-danced by the girls.
"Dinner is served! Come and get it.” Reshape appeared as a butler holding a large silver platter over his head. “Up here I have the privilege of being able to create food. Food for thought. Food for eating. Sour to sweet taste sensations to die for! Liquids and solids. Mush and pudding, hot and cold, frozen and boiling, all conveniently prepared for your consumption.” His unoccupied white gloved hand moved in a circular motion over his stomach. “Yummy in your tummy."
Reshape wore a black formal butler's uniform with a parchment stiff white shirt and a very proper black bowtie. Upon his clean-shaven face, a snobbish manservant half smile, as though he knew all the secrets of everyone in his exulted presence. He lowered the tray, took away his hand, and the platter hovered like an obedient flying saucer. Faster than one could say, ‘Feed me!', he placed a silver plate on the table in front of Vicki and a gold one in front of Fawn. In front of Paul, with a special click of his leather heels, a heavy pure white porcelain dish.
Upon each dish, a meal, magic as Reshape himself, materialized to a chorus of, “It's my favorite.” “I didn't know I was hungry. Smells wonderful!"
Inviting colors and textures mingled with tantalizing mouth-watering aromas. The faster Paul ate the more starved he became for the cuisine displayed, yet none of the group suffered any consequences from their spellbound gluttony.
Did the meal exist because of Paul's imagined-life or Reshape's? He cut his thick egg-covered juicy steak, pushed the piece through his buttered mashed potatoes and crammed it into his mouth. The faster he ate, the more the food on the table grew, until it flowed over the edge of his plate and evaporated before hitting the tabletop.
But as in all pleasures in his cloud adventure, there would be a price. Paul knew this somewhere in the far back reaches of his mind. But food and the newfound friendship with the mysterious girl creature masked the price he might be asked to pay.
Vicki and Fawn devoured succulent salads, made of garden-fresh, ripened vegetables and fruits mixed with chicken and salmon morsels.
For dessert, pies of every description, new platters of cakes of all shapes, ice-cream covered candy of all wished-for flavors and a pudding of chocolate and butterscotch swirls. Reshape served the desserts in sweeping grandiose style, a conductor conducting a food-gobbling symphony. After dessert came huge round pizzas and full pound cheeseburgers within gigantic oven-hot buns almost too thick to fit into their mouths.
Later, a thought came to Paul. “Reshape, why are we doing this?” he asked in a voice forced through chewed steak and chocolate cake.