Authors: Don Hurst
"About time you got here!"
The only indication the voice startled Maken came as one extra eye blink and the fact he jumped to his feet.
The ghostly form of a boy stood in a far corner, almost transparent, the wood paneling visible through his body. He smirked and added, “Almighty Wizard Maken Fairchild."
"You startled me, boy!” He stared and put a thin hand to his chin. A grin spread across his face. “Thank you. Hiding in the corner was a magnificent trick I have to say. Well done, lad."
The boy's green eyes were the least transparent part of his presence, and he stared at Maken without blinking. “I have a duty to perform for my mother.” His eyes blinked once and his chest puffed out. “My mother is Vile Extinction."
"Of course she is, lad. I've been expecting you. I did not know when our destinies would cross, but here you are and I am delighted."
"She said I have to kill you and the boy, Paul Winsome. Hope you don't find that inconvenient,” the boy said in a tone of mocking defiance. “Call me Kid Badd.” He moved forward, his feet gliding an inch over the carpet, his legs motionless. “That's Kid Badd with two ‘d's."
Maken's brow wrinkled and he stared at the boy. “You bare a remarkable resemblance to someone I know, but I am sure this will become apparent in the future. Thus arrives the time to talk of universes and solar systems, sons and mothers. Good."
Rising twelve inches off the carpet, Maken hovered, smiled at the advancing boy and rose another six inches. “Stop your forward movement and save yourself from being kicked in the face. You would find this degrading, would you not, young Kid Naughty? Or has your mother not given you the ability to be embarrassed by your own folly. I know I embarrass myself daily just to keep in practice. Why, just a short time ago I ventured out into the forest to collect flies. If discovered I could have found myself embarrassed, would you not agree, Kid Naughty?"
The boy's hover terminated and he lowered to the floor. “I want you to call me Kid Badd, old man."
Maken decided to test the boy's weapons by playing with his mind to bring out his worst. “I do mind. I will call you Kid Naughty, with one ‘y’ and you will like it."
"Call me Kid Badd, Maken Fairchild!” He pronounced Maken's name as if a swearword. “Call me Kid Badd!"
"I shall call you Kid Naughty. That's Naughty with one ‘y', as I may have mentioned.” Maken lowered his thin body into his chair. “Well, Kid Naughty, how does it feel to be sent to be a killer? Your mother has the silly name of File...Tile... something? Forgive an old man. I forget so easily."
The boy frowned and stared blankly with his green glowing eyes at the white-haired old man. He leaned toward the wizard, emphasizing each word. “You have no idea of the power my mother, Vile Extinction, has given me."
"Kid Naughty, you came just in time, I was moments away from becoming bored.” Maken shook his right index finger at Kid Badd. “Please do not mistake me for one of my flies to be drawn into your web."
"What are you talking about? Why would I think you're a fly?"
"Flies are stupid. I did not want you to think I was of diminished intelligence. I am a wizard of considerable skill and wit, so brainy only—"
"So, if you're a wizard, where's your wand, old man? My mother told me all about you. You can make things happen, but not to me. I'm not of your world. I'm no fly."
Maken chuckled and waved his arms. Bright light flashed from his fingertips, forcing Kid Badd to cover his eyes with both ghostly hands. Maken's light disappeared as fast as it had burst upon the scene. “My hands are my wand,” he taunted, enjoying his own magic. “Speaking of wands, where's yours, Naughty?"
"Kid Badd!"
"Your wand is in Kid Badd? Wow! How does that feel?"
The barely visible form of Kid Badd quivered with outward anger, his words spit out almost too fast to understand. “I'd love to see you try to wave that light at my mother!” He smirked. “She'd send your pieces flying into your sun. No matter, old man. I've been sent to do the job."
Maken pushed up from the chair with the speed of a young man, disappeared and reappeared next to the inner paneled sidewall. “Open.” The panel slid aside with a whisper. A shelf pushed forward on which rested an immense book with a worn leather cover. Maken waved his hand over the ancient volume, and it fell open. He licked a finger and slowly turned a blank parchment page.
Kid Badd shrugged. “Old man, my only duty is to kill you and a boy by the name of Paul Winsome. Don't you hear me? Aren't you scared? My mother told me you would be scared, and my mother doesn't tell lies."
Maken unhurriedly turned another blank page, then another and another. He looked around at Kid Badd and watched him fidget with impatience. He shrugged, turned and continued to leaf through the blank pages, taking his time, licking his fingertip after each page turn. He stopped and again glanced back at the semi-transparent boy.
Kid Badd's face darkened, his body shook and his eyes glowed with increased intensity.
"I always have a problem finding the right page, Kid Naughty,” Maken teased. He turned and lifted another page to reveal two more blank pages.
Kid Badd growled, “Can't you order the darn book to turn to the right page?"
"Oh,” Maken baited. “But, there are right pages, Kid Naughty, and left pages. Do you not think it would confuse the book?” Maken smiled. He waved a hand over the thick volume. “Destiny section. Paul Winsome.” The great volume flipped to its back section with a display of fanning pages. “Okay, fine.” Maken turned toward Kid Badd. “Come forward, Kid Naughty."
Kid Badd raised into his hovering mode, glided to Maken's side and looked at the page the wizard pointed to.
A tiny elongated figure arose from between the blank pages. A brown monk's robe covered its two inch torso. Its mouth, located at his very top, spoke in a voice sounding uninterested in what it communicated. “Volume seven oh four, chapter forty-eight-thousand eight-hundred and sixty-five, book ninety-two, verse fifty-six.” The voice projected in a bored tone. “There shall appear the son of an invading solar system upon Earth solar system. A coming of evil in the guise of a boy, hereafter known as Kid Badd.” As the monk-worm spoke, the words appeared on the page in swirling black-ink calligraphy. Kid Badd's name had its two ‘d's. The words shone, and then dulled as they dried. “The attack comes from a solar system known as Vile Extinction, mentioned in Volume six-hundred-seventy-nine—"
"Never mind the numbers, Booker,” Maken interrupted. “Just give us the facts."
Kidd Badd pressed his lips together and stared at the figure as it twisted into a slight S-shape in an effort to keep its monk robe from sliding off.
"Evolution of Earth solar system is threatened by Vile Extinction. Solar system suns commingle to destroy Earth humanity forever more.
"On the planet known as Earth, a boy by the name of Paul Winsome, shall try to halt the fireball eyes of Vile Extinction solar system."
Maken shrugged. “As you see, Kid Badd, you are—
Kid Badd glided away from the wizard. “At least you got my name right for the last time!"
Maken jerked his body around to face the semi-transparent boy and waved a wand-hand to fend off the expected attack.
Emerald green beams blazed from Kid Badd's eyes faster than Maken's defense. The beams combined into a focused energy and burst into Maken's body. His corpse glowed green as it dropped to the carpet. Above his head, the bookworm dissolved into the parchment crease between pages as the great book snapped shut. The counter withdrew into the wall and the panel door slid shut with a muffled bump.
"Killing you was a pleasure,” Kid Badd snarled. “Consider my duty delivered. Maybe you're a fly after all.” He laughed as he glided through the rear wall leading to the outside balcony. “How'd you like that, Mother? One dead, one to go."
Even as Kid Badd flew from the mansion toward Morris Junior high, from the walls a shimmering light enveloped Maken's crumpled body—glistening white with a tinge of blue—alive, nurturing and caressing parental love. Its vibrant prodding absorbed the green glow radiating from Maken's motionless form.
Night came, then day. Still the illumination absorbed the green light, little by little, blending it into its own white-blue radiance.
In the fourth hour of the new day, Maken blinked and opened his eyes. He lifted his arm and waved it, light bursting from his fingertips, filling the room with increased illumination. He raised slowly, testing his limbs for damage. Satisfied he accomplished all he could do to check himself out, he eased into his favorite overstuffed chair. “Thank you, Source of all Creation,” he said to the light as it reentered the paneled walls, the room dimming. “I had no idea our journey began with my ending. The favor of a vision might have been convenient. But, all in all, great job wizard Maker."
Maken shook his head. “You did not kill me, Kid Badd with two ‘d's. You had your chance and you blew it."
He shook his shoulders and bent over for a moment to allow a spasm of pain to dissipate. He shut his eyes and took inventory of his mansion, room by room. His imaging didn't encounter Kid Badd. Maken took several deep breaths and smiled. “Kid Badd, I accept your challenge."
Yellow eyes focused on the top crossbar of the high wooden fence, Isno Gravity crouched and leapt. He stretched out his paws and with impeccable aim landed softly on the narrow top piece. Surely no cat acrobat on Earth had the effortless flying ability of Isno Gravity. His raven black fur showcased a pirate's eyepiece-shaped white patch framing his left battle-scarred eyelid, unable to open as wide as his right. This left him with a permanent wink. Two fangs protruded beyond his lower lip to slightly below his jaw, spikes which looked as though they were trying to escape and hunt on their own.
He pranced across the narrow crossbeam like a ballet dancer on a tightrope. His mission: Fun. Feeling contented by the fine meal his human fed him, he approached one of his favorite places.
Behind the fence, below him, two fenced-in Boxer dogs growled at him, flinging strings of saliva from their bared teeth. They barked and snarled in their most menacing show of force, jumping toward the dark shape taunting them from the outside high fence railing. Isno stayed just out of reach as the Boxers competed to jump high enough to bring their tormenter to his doom. The larger dog's snapping teeth came tantalizingly close at the peak of his lunge, almost reaching Isno's outstretched paw.
Isno pulled back his paw with the speed and agility of a skilled pugilist slipping a punch. He hissed contempt for the yard-jailed Boxers. Dog contempt had to be his favorite game. He stared with his one wide eye at the noisy attackers, his partially closed left eye seeming to squint a wink at the silly dogs being humbled. His bushy tail pushed skyward and waved a signal of mastery of his domain.
He did have other pleasures. Pouncing on a mouse or bird always felt satisfying. Ah, and the smooth rubbing of his human's hands at dinnertime; petting he heard it called. Isno happily adopted the name, which produced more happiness within himself than his old name, Damn Cat, given to him one midnight by another human. He fondly wished he could tell his human of his understanding of his words, but the method to do so remained a mystery. A purr here, a meow there, a midnight screech or hiss, Isno found such limitations irritating. His human had no way to know he had actual words he wanted to say and all he managed to make were cat sounds. How could his human know how pleased he felt at being named Isno Gravity?
This magnificent cat had a mind and felt nature's limitations put him far below the status he envisioned for himself. Cat? No. In his perception, he had the strength of a jungle lion, the leaping agility of a tiger, the speed of a cheetah, all combined with the intellect of a wise old owl. Most of all, neighborhood fences didn't jail him with their height, nor could dogs catch him.
Isno knew Paul Winsome thought of him as a pet, but he wasn't. Pet would indicate ownership and Isno allowed this illusion only for the convenience of the free food and a few of his human's love strokes.
As the dogs lunged, Isno's head filled with ideas about his world and his precious nine lives, two of which were already used. One life had been taken by a close encounter with a rattlesnake, and the other in the catfight where a claw permanently damaged his left eyelid. He had saved seven lives for later use by well-timed leaps and knowing when to avoid flying objects thrown at him by unfriendly humans when he issued his midnight cat challenges. Isno reasoned he must be about the smartest cat in existence; he never found any evidence to the contrary. This coupled with being the most athletic cat ever, made Isno's ego soar high at the considerable distance he could jump. Life and fun went together as naturally as catnip and tuna.
Because he didn't have to actually eat his captured birds, mice and the occasional garter snake, it left them to be playfully batted around between his front paws, play almost as much fun as torturing fenced-in dogs.
He bedeviled the dogs with straight left front paw jabs as his squinting left eye made it as though he aimed a rifle. Again Isno stuck a paw out and pulled it back just as the snapping jaw almost reached it. The jumps became weaker now, the dogs worn out by their frenzied attack. Oh, the fun. Tedium settled in and Isno leapt from his perch and strode toward the one fence he desired to conquer above all others. This fence contained neither growling leaping dogs nor animals of any kind. What it surrounded appeared dead, yet his cat senses suggested to him this dead possessed more aliveness than perhaps any other on the streets of his territory. The yard skirted a very old mansion. Yet, here too, his cat senses picked up on something out of place, a kind of false front, a disguise. The grass inside, seemly brown and dead only hid the fact of its incredible aliveness. The fence enclosed a deteriorated Victorian era mansion. But his magnificent cat logic perceived the peeling paint and rotting wood of the ancient manor as an illusion. He wondered if humans had any idea of how smart cats were. Especially himself, Isno Gravity. If he could conquer the iron fence, his nagging curiosity could at long last evolve into yesterday's interest.