The Land Beyond Summer is posted for entertainment purposes only and no part of it may be crossposted to any other datafile base, conference, news group, email list, or website without written permission of Pulpless.Comtm.
Copyright © 1996 by Brad Linaweaver. All rights reserved.
CHAPTER SIX
WOLF AND KITNIP
"That's great news, sis," said Clive. "It should be easier
for you to get down. This is what I've always wanted, a real
adventure."
"Oh Clive, grow up," said his younger sister. "This isn't a
game."
"I didn't say it was; but it does sort of look like one from
up here."
"Clive!" She could sound just like her mother when she was
upset. "I'm afraid."
"I know. I am, too. God, I hate Grandad." Just
mentioning their nemesis made the day -- if they could call the
endless blue sky a day -- seem all the heavier. "You know, what
are we going to call him from now on? It's getting ridiculous
calling him ... you know."
With a wistful smile, Fay remembered how the man didn't like
them addressing him by anything less formal than Grandfather.
"The Mrs. Norse lady has given us enough names to choose from."
"Malak," whispered Clive.
"The Dour One," echoed Fay. They might have gone on in this
vein a while longer except that they were distracted by the
presence of a cloud. It wouldn't have been worth noting back
home ... but as the first cloud they had seen here, it was quite
an event. They hadn't noticed it forming over the distant sword
of the statue shortly after they lost the Norse letter.
The cloud was moving very fast. As it grew nearer, it
became darker. Clive had seen a tornado once at summer camp. It
hadn't been very large, but was big enough to be a killer; and it
was the most scared Clive had ever been. This cloud was
funnelling down, and taking on the resemblance of that long-ago
windstorm.
"We've got to get away from here!" Clive shouted over the
wind, but his advice wasn't necessary. The tip of the funnel
struck the rock near them, and began a zig-zag movement in their
direction. They held hands but it didn't do any good. Before the
funnel reached them, they were torn apart by the surging wind.
Clive went tumbling down the red path, while Fay was forced back
along the yellow.
For one insane moment the funnel lifted straight over Fay's
head. She expected to be pulled up inside it and torn to pieces.
She could see the dark tunnel of wind, lit by flashing
electricity as little tornadoes bounced back and forth along the
inside of the walls. Then it moved on, leaving her both awestruck
and alive.
The tornado continued in a straight line away from her, but
other winds came behind it; she could see Clive disappearing over
the rise and called out, but the wind drowned out her voice. The
blank sheet that had been Mrs. Norse's letter went fluttering off
in the direction of the giant statue but she held on to her
father's poem and jammed it back in the envelope, shoving it in
the side pocket of her shorts. While she was saving the paper,
her glasses fell off and smashed against the rock.
Then she made a mistake. Reaching for her glasses after it
was too late merely resulted in her falling down. She started
rolling painfully down the hill. The distance from the stone
hill to the ground was over a thousand feet, and if she didn't
stop tumbling very soon, she'd be killed by the unyielding
granite surface. Fortunately, it wasn't very steep; and a
respite in the wind allowed her an opportunity to stand.
She attempted to work her way back up to the top so she
could find Clive, but when she tried, the wind started up again,
pressing down on her with sudden force, as if an invisible wall
opposed her. There was no choice but to continue toward the
ground below.
The yellow rock under her feet gradually turned to pebbles,
and before she knew it, she was safely walking on green grass.
The moment the hill was left behind, the air changed. There was a
pleasant cool breeze, nothing like the freak storm she'd left
behind. Other than that, the day was warm, but not hot. She
looked up, expecting to see the sun, but, of course, it wasn't
there. She had no idea where the warmth was coming from.
When she could accept the fact that she was safe, her legs
gave out and she gratefully collapsed on the soft grass. She
allowed herself the luxury of crying. This had not been one of
her better days. She might have cried longer if she hadn't been
distracted by something pleasant. Gradually her vision cleared
as she wiped the tears away, and she took deep breaths, half
choking because she was so upset. She began examining the red
scrapes on her knees and elbows, and some purple bruises as bad
as what Clive had gotten from his father. She was all set to cry
again when she realized she'd received another gift besides her
improved ankle (which had miraculously survived its undignified
descent down the hill). Her various injuries were vivid and
clear to her eye. Unconsciously, she reached up to adjust her
glasses.
That's when she remembered she'd lost her glasses. Her
vision had been restored to 20/20. Somehow this dried up her
reserve supply of tears. She got to her feet and turned around
to check out the stone mountain. She was only a few feet from
it. There was a crazy slanting effect, as her perspective
shifted. She had to close her eyes for a moment, but she still
saw the yellow under the lids, from all that yellow on her side
of the hill.
A few years ago, the family had been able to afford their
last real vacation. They'd done the whole Florida bit, from
Disney to Sea World to Cape Kennedy. When they'd gone to see the
Vehicle Assembly Building, she'd pressed her nose right up
against the side of the biggest building -- by square foot volume
-- in the world. She'd thought the side of the building was
moving, crushing down on her, as the sheer bulk of what she saw
was too much for the brain to register. What was happening to
her now was like that, but different; more a case of the side of
the mountain sliding sideways under her gaze than looming over
her.
She sat down on the ground a second time. There was no
aspirin if she should have another headache. Taking deep,
regular breaths to calm herself, she knew this was a time for
thinking things through. Her dreams had never suggested there
might be a place like this for real, except that there were
differences. She'd seen nothing like the floating boxes yet.
But the yellow fog was all too familiar.
First of all, she realized the visual anomaly she'd just
experienced had to do with her eyes adjusting to their new
strength. Despite all the miracles that had occurred, the hill
wasn't really moving. Tentatively, she turned her head and took
another look at the yellow side of the mountain. It was fine
now. Except that it did seem bigger somehow. From where she was
sitting, she couldn't see an end to the yellow on either side.
The question was: what to do next? Before they were attacked
by the mysterious cloud -- for she had no doubt that it had been
a purposeful phenomenon just as the destruction of Mrs. Norse's
letter had been no accident -- they had decided to go visit the
lady who had brought them here. But by bad luck, Fay was not in
the right location. The last she had seen of her brother, he was
going down the red section, the correct section.
She decided it was time to keep calm by talking things over
with herself. "You need to get to the red section where Mrs.
Norse is," she told herself and the universe at large. It was
reasonable to assume that Clive would head for the house; but
since when did reason have anything to do with a brother's
actions? He might even now be trying to find her, a far more
impossible task than doing Mrs. Norse's bidding.
There was no avoiding the troublesome matter of reunion. An
obvious first step had to be taken. She stood up, faced the hill
and called out Clive's name as loudly as she could, waiting about
thirty seconds between shouts. After five tries, with not even
an echo to keep her company, she had to give up before she lost
her voice.
Next she marched straight up to the hill with a plan to
follow it around until she reached the end of this section of
forest. Even if the hill seemed bigger, it would only take so
long to get where she was going. She was sorry she'd left her
Batman watch at home. Suddenly she laughed, as she remembered
the absence of the sun. Here she was thinking about seconds and
minutes and hours in a world that had no way of measuring time!
She wondered if Clive had brought his watch. She hadn't noticed
when they were on the hill.
At any rate, she had more serious problems to worry about,
such as deciding whether she should go to the right or the left.
She tried to remember how the colors had been laid out. It had
been green, yellow, red and white. Choose the correct direction
and the very next section of woods would be the right one.
She started following the edge of the hill, moving to her
left. "That's a bad choice," whispered a soft voice from behind.
She whirled around, but didn't see anyone. "I'm down here," the
voice spoke again.
Lowering her eyes, just a bit nervously it must be admitted,
she saw a familiar face licking a paw, and rubbing its head. It
was Kitnip! For the first time in her life, Fay had absolutely
nothing to say.
"You were thinking of trying to get to Mrs. Norse's woods
that way, weren't you?" The cat was infernally calm.
Fay used all her will power and produced one hesitant word:
"Kitnip?"
"I never liked that name. Made me sound like a drug addict,
just waiting for my next whiff of the old catnip. Or else the
name made me sound too cute for words."
"But how...?"
"You want to know how I'm here. Fair enough, but there's no
time for that now, except to say that if Wolf and I hadn't been
rescued shortly after you left, we'd be in that great pound in
the sky by now."
"But how...?"
"If you weren't such a smart girl, I'd think you're
repeating yourself. But we know better, don't we? This time,
you want to know how it is that I talk."
"Yes."
"No time for that either. Sorry." Whereupon Kitnip had the
nerve to rub up against her leg and purr. "Now let's go, but not
to Autumn. Since we're already in Spring, our best choice is to
make for the Hive. We must get there as soon as possible."
"While it's still daylight?""
"I have the distinct impression that there's no night here,
but I suppose I could be wrong."
Fay had to admit the cat seemed to recognize the
implications of their environment better than she did. She would
like to have discussed the matter but Kitnip had other ideas.
When a cat decides to really move, it is a challenge to keep up.
In addition, Fay was exhausted from everything that had happened
to her in one day. Kitnip darted off into the woods so quickly
that Fay was lost before she started. "Kitnip," she cried out.
"Don't leave me."
Just as quickly as she had disappeared, Kitnip was back,
standing on a tree stump, her tail forming a curlicue, like a
question mark. The cat turned her head sideways as she said,
"Sorry. You can't help it that you're physically challenged, what
with only having two legs."
"Please don't rub it in. How much time do we have, assuming
there is such a thing as time here. I don't see how you'd measure
it."
"You humans make up a way of telling time no matter where
you are, so don't worry about it. There are two conditions:
moving forward and standing still. Let's get moving."
"It's just that I'm so tired," Fay admitted reluctantly.
"If I could only rest..."
The cat purred -- or was it a hmmmmmm? -- before she
relented: "We can let you take a nap, but only for what you'd
call an hour. You know, the way you've been acting lately, I'm
worried you're narcoleptic or something."
Moving with great deliberation, Kitnip led Fay to a stand
of pine trees. Fay had always loved their smell, and these were
very large and beautiful. Underfoot it became thick with pine
needles, and there were only a few pine cones to be kicked out of
the way. She approved of Kitnip's choice of bed for her.
"I'll feel better after just a little bit," said Fay, lying
down on the soft pine needles, enjoying the feel of the hard
ground underneath. In one day she would have gone to sleep
outdoors twice, once with Wolf as her companion and now with
Kitnip. But was she really in the same day, or wasn't that a
universe ago? She didn't want to think about it.
Wondering idly how Kitnip had arrived (surely a cat didn't
receive mail), the last thing she saw was a patch of blue sky
overhead, with limbs of the trees gently swaying against it; and
the pine cones high up were black dots like so many eyes gazing
down.
***
Clive landed dead center in a pile of autumn leaves that
probably saved him from serious injury. He didn't feel very
grateful, perhaps because there was something else in the leaves,
something under him that started reaching up, under his pants
leg, with spidery, cold fingers.
Yelping, Clive bolted out of the leaves and started running.
He didn't really want to know what was behind him, but boys will
be boys. Stealing a glance inspired him to run all the harder.
The pursuer was four feet high and seemed to be made out of
both vegetable and metal parts. The head had the appearance of a
crazy jack-'o-lantern. The eyes were black holes, but something
red swum inside. The mouth had teeth. The whole body moved like
a machine with three legs, the middle one pushing over and over
again like a piston. And the absolute worst thing about it was
that it called out Clive's name in a screaming falsetto.
Clive had seen more than enough. There was nothing else to
do but concentrate on serious running. He was going so fast that
he didn't notice the second one until he'd tripped over it. This
one was only three feet tall, but it was bigger because it was
longer. It had eight legs, like a spider, and they were all
metal, but the main part of the body seemed to be made of the
same vegetable substance as the other one's head. There was one
stalk growing out of the center, and at its tip blinked an eye,
which took this opportunity to slowly swivel around and consider
one frightened human being.
This time Clive didn't feel like he was running; he was
flying. He had to get away from these monsters! Every sound he
heard conjured up images of even more terrible things coming from
behind. Maybe they didn't climb trees, he thought. Maybe he
should get off the ground. There was a big oak just up ahead,
and it had a limb low down over the ground, in easy reaching
distance which he grabbed without losing his stride. He hoisted
himself into the air.
Unfortunately, he wasn't holding on to a part of the tree.
Instead, another of the creatures was holding on to him. It was
elongated like a snake and didn't seem to have any metal parts.
It was all of one color, and was so dark that one didn't
recognize the shade as a kind of orange until one was right up
against it. The way Clive was right now!
Falling to the ground, with the thing coiling around his
body, Clive had the air knocked out of him. He was too stunned
to do much about it but look up dazedly at the head of the
monster peering into his eyes. There was a human face, but all
shriveled and withered, like a shrunken head.
When he heard the rustling of leaves behind him, he assumed
it was more of them coming to finish him off. He wondered what
it would be like to die. His only regret was that he wouldn't be
around to help Fay find their real Mom and Dad. He was very
sorry about that. He even felt sorry for his father for the
first time since the beating. If Clive were about to die, he
wanted to forgive his old man while there was still time.
Suddenly, there was a loud barking just behind his head.
The thing holding him unwrapped itself and slithered away. As he
started to get up, he saw another of the creatures moving off to
the side. There were a half dozen of them. The sight of the
spider one literally running up a tree made him sick to his
stomach.
The barking repeated itself, louder and closer than before.
The last of the creatures scurried out of sight. Clive couldn't
believe his ears, so he trusted to sight instead.
Sure enough, Wolf was standing next to him, guarding Clive
with a ferocity he'd never seen in the dog before. With one last
growl, Wolf ignored the enemy, and raised his head to look Clive
square in the face.
"I got here just in time," said the dog.
"It's you, boy, but how can you talk?"
"I've always talked, you just never understood before. And
I don't like being called 'boy' anymore than you do."
Clive didn't know what surprised him more -- that his dog
talked, or that he had an attitude. "But how did you get here?"
he asked.
"I couldn't begin to explain, but I know what we have to do.
We've got to reach the house before this invasion is over. Come
on." And with that, the dog started running; but he had gone
less than one yard, before he stopped and looked back, to make
sure that Clive was following.
Clive didn't feel very well after what he'd gone through,
but he could sense the urgency and forced himself to run hard,
ignoring the pain. He was amazed about many things, not least of
which was that the monsters seemed to be afraid of his dog. This
knowledge gave him confidence to carry on.
He was glad for Wolf's consideration, when suddenly the dog
disappeared behind a mound of earth, covered in moss. For a
brief instant of alarm, Clive sympathized with all the times he'd
deliberately lost Fay when she was following him in the woods.
Little sisters will follow big brothers, no matter how annoying
that might be.
He debated with himself over whether or not he should call
out Wolf's name -- he laughed out loud when he realized that if
Wolf said his own name it would sound like: "Woof"! Suddenly
the decision was taken out of his hands. The dog returned,
heading straight for him.
"Hide," Wolf commanded. After the bravery the dog had
shown, this could be no idle advice. Something really dangerous
must be moving in their direction.
The two of them went behind the bole of a huge tree (it
looked like a redwood) when the subject of Wolf's consternation
strode into the small clearing. It was Malak, the Dour One. It
was Grandfather.