Authors: Don Hurst
"Get off my back you silly creatures!"
The thought-transfer grumbled like an old man whose sleep had been interrupted.
So he could hear other cloud thought-transfers. Paul looked across at a basket-shaped cloud. In his imagination he envisioned himself and Vicki transferred to the inside of its weaved walls. It worked! Paul gripped the rim of the basket. Vicki stood beside him. They were soaked, yet dry, and breathed hard from their ordeal.
"Fawn? Isno?” Vicki questioned. “Will they be all right?"
"I'm trying to imagine it that way, Sis."
"Is it my imagination, or did we literally ride on the storm?” she asked.
"Both."
"Both imagination and riding on the storm?"
"Yes."
"Paulie, I think it was your imagination, not mine. It was very real to me. I was so scared I couldn't think. Silk is...” She interrupted herself. “Paulie! Fawn? Isno? What will happen to them?"
Paul clamped his eyelids shut and visualized Fawn dancing toward them. It didn't work. Next he tried to summon Isno with no success. “I don't know.” He felt like crying and would have if alone. Whatever would come, he had to show Vicki a protector's face—be her king. He had to be strong and resist the puzzles boiling inside him—fear of not being in control—massive doubts about saving his sister and the solar system—sorrow of the apparent demise of Fawn and Isno—longing for things to return to what they once were with the return of Silk and Huff.
Fault mixed in with the facts of his twisting emotions. His fault. He couldn't control his parallel-imagined-life. All the pain he caused could be different if not for his slow learning. Kid Badd could have shot Claude Nab and Calamity Horrid with his green laser beam eyes, had he imagined it correctly. All the Horrid Ice Castle girls could have been set free had he visualized it with any accuracy and determined focus. Why hadn't he remembered all the things his dad, Maken and his life taught him? The sum of all their problems lay within Paul's parallel-imagined-life failure.
Vicki pressed close to him. He the protector, she the maiden in distress. By putting his mind on something other than his faults cleared his thinking. Perhaps all relationships were a trade off, each depending on the other. He purposely kept his mind off Fawn and Isno. Were they still alive? Paul looked back at the stallion-bodied, laughing, toothless lion cloud who had refused to let them ride. He smiled. An important mission needed his attention.
"There's something I have to do,” he said to Vicki. “Might look a bit strange to you, but remember where we are and how we got here."
She nodded. “Maybe you could find Fawn and Isno?"
Again he concentrated and couldn't bring Fawn or Isno back. Paul swung his right leg over the basket rim and allowed it to detach and fly across to the rump of the stallion-lion cloud. He could feel Vicki's wide eyes burning into his backside. His departed foot kicked the cloud's rump with great force, embedding itself deep into its haunch. His brave leg twisted and jerked its foot free and drove its foot into its target again and again, until the surly cloud took the hint and veered off into another part of the sky.
Back from its adventure, his courageous leg reattached, and Paul swung it inside to the floor of their basket.
"I dedicate that to Fawn, Isno, Silk and Huff."
Vicki's eyes widened. “Paulie, that was stupid, silly—and wonderful!” She hugged him.
"I bet you're right,” he said, trying to mask his ego. “Cross off one mean cloud. Hope it flies into that storm."
The sky above their heads brightened. In the far distance the thunder whispered a departing song.
"Why did we leave that cloud, Paulie? It seemed to be a nice ride."
"It demanded we leave, Sis. It talked to me like Silk. I guess all clouds can do it. Kind of shows up in my mind."
"Like, telepathically?"
At times it took all of Paul's concentration to remember Vicki was only eleven years-old. Telepathically wasn't a word most eleven year olds would use, he guessed. A memory tugged at him. His dad used the word telepathically to explain why something about something was true, but the teaching didn't stay in his head.
"Paulie, where'd you go? I asked if Silk spoke to you telepathically."
"I think all clouds speak that way, but you have to be living in your parallel-imagined-life."
"And you think everyone can live in their parallel-imagined-life?"
"Think so. Most everyone does when a kid, then it goes away when they no longer believe. Maken Fairchild said to realize the possibilities and magic will happen. It's in the imagination where all perceptions originate.” Paul looked into her face, needing her to understand. “Those were his exact words, Sis."
"Paulie, I think you're more special than you know."
She hugged him. A flash of personal potential shot through him, something he hadn't experienced before. His dad and Maken Fairchild hinted at it, taught it, but it didn't seem real until Vicki's words and hug made it an actuality. He tried again to visualize Fawn being with them, and failed. Again, he tried unsuccessfully to bring Isno back.
A stray gust of wind collapsed their ride's basket shape. They fell onto a cloud shaped like a baseball catcher's mitt. The same breeze followed and blew it apart. No storm, only a wind following them and attacking the clouds around them. A flash of understanding snuck into Paul's mind as they continued their fall. This had to be someone else's game, not his. They dropped through the next cloud in its refusal to accept Paul's imagination authority to catch them. Looking down he clutched Vicki close to him and imagined their fall slowing to parachute speed. Clouds caught them for brief moments, the breeze blew and they dropped at the reduced speed he imagined. And he understood! Fear disintegrated his imagined game and allowed some other major player to take over. Reshape? No. Maken Fairchild!
Trees. Forest. Earth reality. Branches slapped at them as Paul tried to hold onto Vicki with one arm and grab onto one of the branches with the other, the raking limbs smacking pain into his grasping hand and arm. They bounced onto a bed of leaves and moss, somersaulted and came to rest in a sprawl. They sat and exchanged stunned looks. Small scratches covered them and Paul's butt hurt, but they were alive.
Vicki spoke first. “I think we have returned from your parallel-imagined-life, Paulie."
"You think?” he joked. “But where are we?” Earth reality had returned, so perhaps the game had also ended.
Rain sprayed tiny wet tears, as if a postscript from the storm returning to punctuate its authority. The raindrops couldn't reach them because of the tree branches spread far above them like giant umbrellas on the end of tall bark-covered poles.
"Paulie, as we came down, far as I could see there were trees and mountains."
"If we're in Morristown Forest, I think we're in trouble,” Paul admitted. “Even if it isn't Morristown, I think we're in trouble."
"My ankle hurts. I think I twisted it.” Vicki said in a pained voice. “I can't walk. What can we do now?"
He didn't know.
Aromas of wet evergreen mingled with the odors from the hillside mulch and ferns. Strong breezes swirled through the tree branches high above Paul and Vicki's heads. Agitated limbs seemed to warn, ‘Visitors beware.’ Other branches defied with soothing sounds of, “Welcome. Be not afraid."
Vicki winced, her face pale and brow furrowed. She held onto her swollen right ankle. “I think we should try to reach the canyon floor. If we follow a stream it's bound to lead us somewhere."
"The ocean?"
"Eventually. But I'm referring to a town or cabin.” Bringing her feet closer to her body, she grabbed onto Paul's leg and tried to stand, gasped and dropped back to the ground. “I hope it isn't broken."
"I remember Reshape saying something about having to return to form a search party."
"Wish he would hurry."
"I don't think I can carry you,” Paul said in a worried tone. “Hill's too steep. Maybe I could make a sled of some sort."
"You mean tie some branches together to make a litter?"
"Yes. But where would I get the string?"
She winced from the pain in her ankle. “Oh, Paulie, do I have to think of everything?"
Paul spotted a clearing half way down the hill, where boulders and stones collected near a cliff edge. They looked like a pile of ammunition for a giant's slingshot. Strips of bark were wedged between the boulders.
"I'm going down to those rocks.” He pointed. “Maybe I'll find some strips."
He came to the first boulders and tried to squeeze between them. A crackling static buzz warned him to stop. He froze, looking for the rattlesnake. Ahead of him, lying inside a hollow under another large stone, a coiled reptile's vibrating tail warned against his approach. From behind the rock came several other rattles, a fearful orchestration of grim reapers.
The snake flicked its tongue from its triangular head. “Human, you ain't invited into my houssse. Be warned of my ssstrike or be dead."
Did his mind play tricks? Hadn't he left his parallel-imagined-life with his unceremonious plunge through the trees onto the forest's floor? Vicki's swollen ankle wasn't imagined, nor the wetness of the garments clinging to his body. His forest location, pure Earth reality. The threats coming from the rattlesnake had to be imagined. He did what any rational person would, he tested. “You spoke to me, viper?"
"I'm SSSnake Rattler. Call me SSSir."
"Yeah, and I'm a snake charmer."
"I sssure ain't finding you charming, human."
"Are you really talking to me?"
"Do come clossser then. I have sssome juice to ssshare with you."
Any attempt to invade their home would be doomed to failure, leaving Vicki alone and helpless.
"Do sssomething, human,” Snake Ratter insisted. “SSSlide thisss way and sssurrender or sssneak away and sssave yourssself."
Earth reality, Vicki's swollen ankle. His parallel-imagined-life reality, this snake talking. The only answer had to be his realities had merged.
A new voice entered into his confused state. “Walk to your right, Paul."
Thirty feet to his right a small animal stood under a tree between two clumps of ferns. Brownish-red and furry, with a snout that appeared to be grinning. A fox.
"Reshape?"
"Reshape is far away. Why do you talk to the rattlesnake? It is unloving in its fright, its bite dangerous to mankind."
"Who are you?"
"Paul, that does not matter. Listen to me. Go up the hillside. There you will find shelter."
"But Vicki can't climb."
"She can climb if she leans on you. Her ankle is sprained, not broken."
"How do you know?"
"Is that important, Paul?"
"You're a fox, for crying out loud! How could you know Vicki's ankle is only sprained?” He walked a few steps toward the fox, thought better of it, and held his ground. “If I approach will you run away?"
"I am but a messenger inside a wild animal's body. Of course I will run away. Are you serious?"
"Then tell me, messenger, which reality am I in? Earth or imagined?"
"Affirmative."
The fox ran into the forest and disappeared into the bushes faster than Paul could think. He wondered if the fox could have told him how to save the solar system. Were other animals waiting to talk to him?
Paul hiked back up the hillside between the huge tree sentinels. Walking over the dead tree droppings, his shoes cushioned his feet from the jarring effect of hidden branches. His dad had insisted on buying an expensive pair of leather gym shoes rather than the inexpensive vinyl ones that would have been worn through by now.
Vicki's eyes lit up when she saw him. “My king. What did you find?"
"A rattlesnake and a fox."
She stared at him for a long moment, and then chose her words carefully. “How are a rattlesnake and a fox going to help us?"
"The rattler kept me out of the boulders and the fox told me I'm now within both of my realities.” He smiled and hoped she understood.
"Your Earth and imagined realities?"
"Good!” She understood. “The fox said your ankle is only sprained."
"How would..?” She waved her hand. “Never mind."
Paul focused his mind's energy on Vicki's ankle, trying to envision it to be less painful and swollen. A smile told him of partial success. “We have to go uphill. The fox said we'll find shelter there."
"How can..?"
Paul offered his hand and she grasped it tightly. He pulled her up onto her left leg.
As they started to climb, Paul hoped on the way up they would find a branch or something to make into a crutch. Each time Vicki's right foot contacted the ground she quickly switched to her left foot and squeezed Paul's shoulder in a tighter grip.
"Are you worried, Sis?"
"No. I'm with you."
"We might not be found,” Paul admitted.
"How is worry going to change that?"
Paul thought his dad had said something about that once, or twenty times. “The fox said there's a shelter up the hill."
"And you trusted the fox?"
Paul had to grin. “A fox has never lied to me before."
No, he trusted the VOICE coming out of the fox. There had to be a shelter. Why couldn't he see it? Vicki depended on him. The solar system depended on him. Fawn and Will, Holly and Isno....
Vicki's weight forced Paul's feet to sink into the thick forest mulch. A misty fog lifted from the ground. They moved between the trees, the sun seeming to wink like a yellow traffic light blinking caution. Occasional drops of rain reached them, as if leftover tears escaping from branches high above their heads. With each struggling step the slope seemed to become steeper.
Paul's lungs burned. He inhaled deep gulps of air and exhaled in gasps to make room for the next drink of oxygen.
Mind burdens of dread chased notions of failure. What if he wasn't strong enough to support Vicki all the way up to the shelter? Did Vicki expect him to do all the things here he could up in the sky while within his parallel-imagined-life? Did a dangerous animal lurk behind the next tree searching for something to rip apart and eat? The trees thinned the higher they climbed, and still he couldn't see any shelter.