Wheels (30 page)

“Pietas would not have survived.”

“Exactly,” said Revolvos. “And in fact, if my calculations are correct, there is an equally good probability that Pietas, who is several loonocks older than I am, has already died leaving McKenzie and that boy at the mercy of H.G. Wells!”

“I tried to warn—”

“Bewfordios, you’re one very lucky cir to have found me.”

James looked from one alien to the other. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t breathe.
My baby! My daughter! McKenzie!

“Thank Concentric, for my cortext,” said Revolvos. “We’ll use it to return home and save the Circanthians.”

James stood up. He was tired of being a spectator. “I’m going with you!”

“Absolutely not! I will not have another human life on my hands.” Principal Provost blushed, having realized, perhaps, the implications of what he’d just said. “I didn’t mean…”

“McKenzie is my daughter.” James threw his shoulders back, making the most out of his full six foot, two and half inch human frame. “She is mine to protect.”

“Now, James, let’s be reasonable.” Principal Provost had the gall to sound slightly irritated. “Someone has to stay here and—”

“And what? Tell the media that aliens have stopped time and kidnapped my daughter!”

“I did not kidnap McKenzie! Your daughter was sent to my office because she is operating under the misconception that racing down the middle of the school hallway is appropriate behavior.”

“I told McKenzie to stay away from that boy.”

“From what I know of your daughter, Mr. Wu, Rudy Hayes would be better off staying away from her.”

“THAT’S IT!” James’ fists went up and before he knew it, he was face to face with McKenzie’s principal. “No one, in any solar system, insults my daughter! McKenzie, as you so recently pointed out, PRINCIPAL Provost, is the only hope for your people. I always knew McKenzie was—”

“STOP! Both of you!” Professor Revolvos had somehow inserted himself between them. “I’m the elder here so…stand back, both of you. It is quite clear that if not for me…” Revolvos hesitated, seeming to lose a bit of his stature, “we would not be in this predicament. Therefore, if anyone is going to make decisions, it WILL be me.” He looked James squarely in the eye and pointed to the van.

“Inside that van is my suitcase. Inside the suitcase is a file containing certain business documents, and more importantly, my Last Will and Testament. After I leave, you and that gentleman over there…” Revolvos pointed to Roony, “are to be the sole inheritors of all my wealth; which, as it happens, includes several large companies in the United States and abroad.”

James’ mouth dropped open. “Me? Owner? Companies?”

“Roony will handle the overseas operations, which you will then inherit upon his death. In addition, there is a small, leather-bound diary I’d like you to give to your daughter. I’m sure Julianne would want her to have it.”

“But McKenzie—”

“As soon as Bewfordios and I can arrange it, we will return McKenzie to Earth. As your great grandfather-in-law, you have my word.” Revolvos reached out to shake James’ hand.

And before James could stop himself, he was shaking hands with his great grandfather-in-law.

“Right,” said Revolvos. “In the meantime, we have one last task for you.”

“We do?” said Principal Provost sounding a bit putout.

“Of course,” said Revolvos. “As the cortext cannot travel with us, I shall commend it into James’ trusty hands. No human, with the exception of McKenzie, will be able to use it anyway. Of course, with this in mind, James, I fully expect you to keep it away from your daughter. There’s no telling where the girl could end up should she try to use it.”

“I don’t think—”

Revolvos shushed James and turned to Principal Provost. “Don’t worry. I got our people into this mess; I’ll get them out. No mere book is going to determine our future. Furthermore, one human can’t be that difficult to deal with.
Especially
a writer.”

“Over a hundred loonocks and nothing’s changed,” murmured Principal Provost.

“What are you mumbling about?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Provost sighed. “I believe it is time to go.” He reached up and gave his eyebrow one last, sincere rub. “Since McKenzie would not have known how to weave a bubble of present time around Hayes, I shall assume that all one needs to do is—hold on.”

“And, as my particle-weaving abilities are probably a bit rusty,” said Revolvos, “I’ll do the holding and you do the weaving.”

“Fair enough.” Principal Provost removed something from his pocket.

“My cortext,” murmured James.

“There’s a pile of cement blocks over there.” Principal Provost pointed just west of the road. “One of those should do as a pedestal. James, you stay put. After we depart, you will collect the cortext.”

“Now see here, I haven’t agreed—” But the two aliens had already taken off.

Principal Provost placed the cortext on the tallest of the blocks, motioned Revolvos to hold on, took a deep breath and placed his left hand on top of the device that James had built.

“You’re shaking,” James heard Revolvos say. “Perhaps I should take over?”

“Certainly not!” snapped Principal Provost. “Just stay close to me. Better yet, hold on.”

As James looked on, an area of about two feet on either side of the Circanthians took on the appearance of an aging photo, crackling and creasing, and very quickly, twirling into a billion pieces. At length, it disintegrated into bits so small they reminded him of sand. Particles of rocks, grass, air (
Was that a bird?
) lost their shape. Everything spun and rotated, coalescing into a funnel of molecules that began streaming into a hole—a portal into the universe.

That’s when James made his move.

As Principal Provost slid into the portal, merging and swirling with the rest of the particles, James ran up behind Revolvos, already halfway dissolved himself, and grabbed on.

Chapter 36

Excerpt from the personal log of Agent Wink Krumm

Tuesday, March 17th
Just outside Avondale
continued…

At approximately 1500 hours, a rattling, rust infested pickup truck wandered down the road. The driver (one of those red-necked farmer types not targeted nearly enough by the bureau) pulled up behind the van, and for a moment, I feared he might jump out to investigate.

It was soon clear he’d used the van as an excuse to stop for a swig of liquid refreshment. Once the suspicious looking flask was restored to its hiding place, the truck jumped back into gear, swerved around the van and took off.

Lunging toward the front window, I was just in time to see the truck plunge into the anomaly, inches from the man already frozen inside. While the man appeared, shall I say, normal (though I could not see the front of him), the truck, being much larger, seemed to be trapped in stages as it passed into the anomaly. The resulting image appeared to be something approximating a large, red, rusty accordion. An image, I trust, the agency will be hard-pressed to ignore!

***

CHOOSING TEAMS

Wednesday, March 18th
Circanthos – Tsendi Prison Cell

S
tubborn, stupid, STINKING Tsendi!

Hayes had spent the last ten minutes trying to convince Abacis he wasn’t hungry. “OUCH! PUT-IT-DOWN!” he screamed at the phantom drummer inside his head.

Two bulbous Tsendi eyes bounced in front of his face.
Are-you-all-right?
They blinked.

“Right?” murmured Hayes—and everything went blank.

********

Hayes’ head felt cool and tingly. It was a nice feeling. A nice smell too…like Nurse Prickel’s office. He opened his eyes and slowly, cautiously, propped himself up.

Abacis was sitting by the door staring at him. If Hayes didn’t know better, he’d say the Tsendi looked concerned. “What’d you do?” he said, his mouth as thick and dry as an old sock.

Abacis checked the hallway, then walked over and held out a small black container. From the smell, Hayes deduced the greenish substance inside had something to do with the improved state of his head.

“You are not hungry?” asked Abacis.

Hayes may have passed out, but he clearly remembered his last meal. Not only did he hate Tsendi food, he despised it. Though there had been at least a half dozen different dishes, they all tasted the same; sweet and sick, like seriously over-ripe fruit.

“You do not desire more?” demanded Abacis.

Great! First, they were trying to beat him senseless, now they were trying to kill him with kindness. “Read-my-lips,
bug eyes
, I am not hungry.”

“Not hungry?” Abacis growled, his former look of concern shifting into something much more primitive.

Hayes shut his eyes and dropped. Shards of pain exploded between his shoulders.
Oh please, oh please, oh PLEASE don’t kill me!

“The Advitor was right. Don’t ever underestimate a human! Less than one epok ago you ate enough cobaca froot to feed twenty starving Tsendi.” Abacis aimed one bulging Tsendi eye in Hayes’ direction. “How can you not crave more?”

And suddenly Hayes got it.
Crave it? Cobaca fruit?
Of course, he got it. That stuff Soliis had been raving about was addictive. The entire sickly sweet, overripe, vomit-inducing-smorgasbord-of-a-meal had probably been spiked with cobaca froot. He tried to sit up. “OW! GEEZ!” And suddenly Abacis was beside him helping him again.

“You guys beat the heck out of me,” Hayes mumbled, shirking away the Tsendi’s hairy albino hands. “I ate cobaca froot?”

Abacis nodded. Though, if Hayes didn’t know better, he’d say the Tsendi looked ashamed.

Hayes mentally scanned his body to see if he felt any different. He felt like…
Ah cripes! How
do people know when they’re addicted?
Quickly, he ran through all the information from the many support groups his aunt had made him attend which were supposed to make having a nonexistent mom-and-dad-who-were-off-somewhere-getting-high easier.

Cobaca fruit was the last thing he wanted to eat. “I think I’m, I’m…okay,” he stuttered.

Abacis’ hand slid toward the small tan pouch tied around his waist; the same type of pouch Soliis had been wearing. The second his fingers touched it they curled into a tight fist as if an electric shock had shot through them.

Hayes thought there must be something valuable inside Soliis’ pouch like gold or money because Soliis kept patting it. Later, after the tremos, Soliis had nervously pulled something red out of the pouch and popped it into his mouth, a self-satisfied look of relief spreading across his face as he chewed the tiny morsel. Hayes hadn’t given the pouch much thought after that.

I should have recognized the signs.

“Do
you
crave it?” Hayes asked pointing to Abacis’ pouch.

Abacis seemed to hesitate. “It is part of my past. I do not crave it, but I cannot forget it either.”

Interesting, thought Hayes. “Does Wells eat cobaca froot?”

Hayes could see the Tsendi’s eyes grow even wider, if that were possible, as it dawned on him exactly what Hayes meant. “I do not know,” he said, beginning to pace. With each step, Abacis’ hand crept closer and closer to his pouch. Once it reached the pouch, it shot back up and the process began all over again.

“Why don’t you take it off?”

Abacis stopped. Slowly, almost painfully, he drew his hand away from the pouch. “The Advitor does not know I no longer eat it.”

Hayes had the sensation of being privy to something he did not want to hear. It made him nervous. Not scared nervous, like when he thought Mallos was going to smash his head against the wall again, but uncomfortable nervous, like when a girl shared one of those secrets you’d rather not hear.

Right!
Because of a girl, he was in this mess. And yet, for some reason, Hayes sighed, he missed her. He was really worried about her. McKenzie was physically strong, but Hayes knew—better than anyone, he guessed—especially after that crazy trip across the universe—inside she was scared. Really scared.

“Wells will order you put to death.”

Whoa! That came out of left field.
The Tsendi had said it so matter-of-factly.
Wells is going to kill you…he’ll also order a ham on rye.

“Take him with,” said Abacis.

“Where?”

“Back to Earth.”

“Ohhhh.” And suddenly it all made sense. The conversations Hayes had overheard while pretending to be asleep. Abacis had been meeting with other Tsendi.
Mallos? No, not Mallos. Mallos was with Wells.
It had all sounded very secretive. “Why not get rid of him yourselves?”

“He is the Advitor,” said Abacis.

“But, you don’t like him.”

“That is no reason to kill.”

“But it’s okay to kidnap me, throw me in a cell and beat me up?”

Abacis looked away. “Mallos was the one who beat you, not me.”

Mallos!
Hayes winced at the name. Right, Abacis had made his head feel better. So, maybe…
maybe
Abacis would help him escape.

“Your friend, the female—”

“McKenzie?”

“After she arrives at the compound the Advitor will send for you, but before she hands over The Gate you will…” Abacis paused, pacing a few steps, and seemed to have to think about his next word. “
Insist
,” he said. “You will insist that she show him how it works.”

Hayes was lost. “What is a Gate?”

Abacis cocked one eyebrow. “You do not know?”

Hayes swallowed and hoped he hadn’t blown it. How could he lie if he didn’t even know what he was lying about?

“Your friend sits on it.”

“McKenzie’s wheelchair?”

“Yes, her Gate,” said Abacis. “It is the Advitor’s invention, yes?”

Hayes nodded, playing along. “Right! McKenzie’s Gate.” This is weird, he thought. H.G. Wells must have traveled to Circanthos in something that looked like a wheelchair. Which meant he had a machine that could take them home. But, it sure didn’t sound anything like the machine Pietas had told them about.