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 EIGHT
CROOKIES
Meanwhile, back in the world so recently departed....
Aunt Miner decided to pay a surprise visit on her favorite
relatives, which unfortunates turned out to be the Gurneys, as
usual. Only this time, Aunt Miner would be the one who received
a surprise.
The woman had an uncanny knack for making promises that
never came true. It had been often suggested that she take up a
career as a family counselor, or failing that try her hand in one
of the banking professions. If she said that you could count on
something absolutely, then you could be certain of the opposite.
One of her many promises was that she'd never drop in
unannounced.
The funny thing about the situation was that it turned out
to be the best visit Aunt Miner ever had with the Gurneys. First
of all, she never got along terribly well with children. She
would accept any plausible excuse to explain their absence. For
her, the make-believe Mom and Dad were perfectly convincing, and
perfet in every other way.
"Clive and Fay are visiting friends," said Dad with a big
smile.
"Friends they met at school," added Mom with a bigger smile.
Aunt Miner rarely listened to anyone but she could give the
appearance of engaging in conversation. What they had already
told her was more than sufficient to satisfy her curiosity (weak
at the best of times); but she stuck to the topic, out of a
feeling that parents are interested in their children, even if no
one else is.
And so she asked, "Are they spending their whole summer
vacation with these children?" Hers was an indifferent inquiry,
raised in the hope that perhaps the absence of the children would
mean a longer visit from everyone's favorite aunt.
The man who looked just like Dad said, "Yes."
The woman who looked just like Mom said, "No."
Unfortunately, they spoke at the same instant. For anyone
else in all possible universes this might have been taken as a
clue that something was wrong. If Aunt Miner had been paying
just a little attention, she might have noticed that the Gurneys
were acting like characters out of the TV sitcoms that she so
frequently watched.
The point is that Aunt Miner couldn't be allowed to leave
and alert someone if she suspected anything. Malak could replace
her with a duplicate if he thought someone might miss her (as
unlikely as this might be), but this was a decision for him.
Basically, the fake Mom and Dad would have to contact the boss.
They couldn't know that poor Aunt Miner wasn't worth
plotting against. She wouldn't be a threat to the Dour One's
plans if she saw the children whisked away right before supper.
Aunt Miner rambled on in her characteristic way, so that
even the cold, calculating minds listening to her every word lost
track of what she was saying. One minute she was reminding them
that they'd never visited Cousin Orson as they had promised they
would before their financial problems (only made the worse by the
endless recession). The next second she was complaining about
how their carpet wasn't the best material by a long shot, and
that its shade clashed with a set of Peruvian ashtrays she had
given them.
"... and just where are those ashtrays?" she wanted to know.
The fact that the Gurneys had given up smoking around the time of
Fay's birth was supremely unimportant to Aunt Miner. She smoked,
after all, and ashtrays were a fine gift to provide to relations
who might be visited by their most loving member of the extended
family.
The strangest thing about this sad woman was that if she
rambled on long enough she would make some accurate observations,
if only in passing. In a minor key, the woman specialized in
unpleasant truths; and she'd never realize that she had crossed
an invisible line until long suffering relatives would become so
upset that even she couldn't help but recognize what she had
done. But, of course, this time she would have no cause for
embarrassment, and no clue as to the actual content of her
remarks, because good old fake Mom and Dad would be cheerful no
matter what.
Oddly enough, if the real Gurneys had been there they might
have learned more than usual from this particular visit.
Especially when Aunt Miner laid it on thick with "Mom": "Oh you
dear girl, you've always been emotionally stifled, you know. I
blame your mother, God rest her soul, but she didn't encourage
you to be yourself. Very few parents do. Now you find it hard
to open yourselves to others, not even to your own brother ...
but then he was a little rascal, wasn't he? Too much like his
pop, but you always knew that, didn't you? Well, your dear,
sweet man has his hands full when you get stubborn, doesn't he?
You dig in your heels and nothing on God's green earth can move
you."
"Would you like some coffee?" asked the fake Mom with a big
smile that would have made any normal person worry about arsenic
poisoning, but Aunt Miner was protected from worry by invincible
ignorance. She was proud of the fact that she'd never had an
ulcer. No one had ever tried calculate how many stomach ailments
she had generously provided to others.
The offer of refreshments did put her on another track,
though. It was time for the fake Dad to hear unpleasant truths
about himself. They went like this: "But you, Old Fellow" --
her nickname for Dad -- "you could do with a little more
sensitivity, you know. Not big gobs of it, like mashed potatoes
the way Joe used to serve them. You remember him, don't you?
He's a dentist now. He'd never have married Donna if he'd stuck
to that ridiculous idea he could be a painter! Donna is a
practical woman with her feet on the ground. Oh, where was I?"
The real Mom and Dad would have viewed the momentary lapse
in her attention as unmerited favor from on high. Slaks, on the
other hand, could continue nodding and smiling as long as was
necessary.
Aunt Miner continued: "Anyway, dear old Fellow, you need to
notice that the little woman has moods. She's your rock and you
don't appreciate it. Sometimes that rock needs communication,
and sometimes it needs to be left alone. Why is it that men can
never tell when a woman really needs to be alone? She spends
half her time tending to his moods while he pretends he doesn't
have any, but she needs to rest occasionally and try to find
herself, which is harder for us than it is for you....
"I mean, it's not like you men exactly misplace yourselves.
You give us as many headaches as you cure, I'll tell you that
right now, the way I told my late, dear husband who had his
faults, mind you, I'd never say he was a saint ... although he
went to Church a great deal."
She went on in this line for some time until even she ran
out of steam, and while taking a longer than usual breath allowed
for the fake Dad to lean over directly in her line of vision and
ask, "Would you like some cookies to go with your coffee?"
Aunt Miner responded to him in the usual way, with a barely
perceptible nod (except for a few extra words about watching her
diet) and then, before she knew it, had a steaming cup in one
hand and a big grey cookie in the other. If she'd bothered to
notice, she probably wouldn't have actually bitten into the
cookie. It wasn't very appetizing, being one of the Dour One's
inventions, concocted of the same substance from which he'd
fashioned the copies of Mom and Dad. The Slaks had never eaten
of these cookies. If they had, it would raise an interesting
question about whether or not such activity was cannibalism.
Grandfather was of the opinion that whatever you eat, it's not
cannibalism unless you know that you're eating your own kind.
He'd thought about lots of unusual things before he became more
than human, which was good pratice for what he was doing now.
Anyway, Aunt Miner had a very big cookie in her hand and was
aware that she'd have to stop talking for a moment if she wanted
to eat it. Mom and Dad leaned forward with keen anticipation as
Aunt Miner stopped talking, took a deep breath and ... resumed
talking.
The last thing the woman said before she started eating was:
"I miss him, I'm not about to deny it. He was a good husband as
husbands go, but he had his faults. We stayed together in those
days, not like young people today. Not that I'm saying we had
stronger values than your generation; I'm just saying that we
stayed together because that's the way it was then. It's such a
different world now. You're all so serious about everything, and
so impatient. You never wait for things the way we did. Why I
remember...."
A more splendid demonstration of the patience of Malak's
creations could not have been devised. They waited and waited
and waited. Finally, when it seemed that Aunt Miner lived on the
dulcet tones of her verbiage alone, she bit into the cookie.
She never had a chance to try the coffee. The poor woman
just sat there, frozen in the chair, her skin taking on the same
grey color as the "cookie." She was frozen into place so quickly
that her grip on the cup didn't loosen, and not a drop was
spilled.
They judged her a problem to be dealt with later. Something
to put off for a rainy day, the same way Aunt Miner had put off
all the good deeds she had been promising her long suffering
family she would take care of eventually.
But that's another story.
***
Fay caught her breath as she saw the most beautiful scene of
her young life. Kitnip had brought her to a small clearing. A
miniature waterfall seemed to sing with gurgling water of
different colors, flowing and bubbling its joyful tune. Cool air
rose from the little pool of sparkling water, carrying a scent of
fresh mint and ice.
A variety of birds darted about, and they were of as many
hues as the water. The ones she found most attractive had
double-sets of wings, one blue and one black, and when they were
flying the wings would move so fast that they would blur, as if
the wings of hummingbirds, but of much larger dimensions.
Although the birds were the size of crows, they were as exquisite
as robins or canaries.
The water and the birds were a delight to experience, but
they paled by comparison to the human figure gliding through the
water, wearing a crown of flowers in her light brown hair -- head
held above the small pool with a dignity suggesting complete
ownership of her surroundings. As this remarkable female climbed
out of the water, Fay couldn't help but envy the attire thus
revealed -- a dress of such light material that it clung to the
body as if part of the air. And as the woman ran her delicately
shaped hands down the length of the fabric, drops of water
cascaded (all yellow and red, as well as blue) and the spaces she
touched dried quickly, leaving a pattern of stylized flowers on
the cloth as if drawings had just appeared.
"Who is that?" asked Fay of her feline companion.
"Haven't a clue," answered Kitnip. "But Mrs. Norse told me
to trust my instincts. I feel safe here."
"Yes, I agree. No one who looks like that could be an
enemy."
"Don't trust appearances alone," answered the cat gravely.
"After all, you thought the Tabrik was bad. On the other paw,
just because this young female human looks all right doesn't mean
she isn't all right!"
"How do we find out?"
Kitnip pleased Fay with the answer: "Since I'm the one with
the instincts, I'll go first. Mrs. Norse would want me to."
No amount of surprises in this strange land could compare to
the unpleasant discoveries Fay kept making about herself. She
loved the cat, but she didn't want anyone leaving little scars
of jealousy on her soul. She was beginning to resent Mrs. Norse,
even if this amazing personage represented her only hope, because
Kitnip prized the good opinion of a stranger over Fay.
This frustration didn't prevent Fay feeling admiration for
Kitnip as the plucky little beast crept on little cat's feet over
to the strange young woman who at that moment had begun to sing.
The voice thus revealed had the quality of tinkling bells. Fay
caught herself feeling increased resentment, not for Mrs. Norse
this time, but for the strange girl.
Fay had reached that difficult stage of life when nothing
ever feels right. This strange young woman seemed perfect in
every way, a perfect face with perfect white teeth, a perfect
body with every line in all the right places. And she sang in
tune.
The trouble was that Fay had become very self-conscious of
late. And not wearing her top didn't help. She had no reason to
disparage her own appearance. Everyone, or close enough, thought
she was cute. Fay had a good face with a button nose and high
cheekbones. Her hair was a pretty shade of auburn and she wore
it long. She thought she was ugly because she had freckles and
wore glasses, but she was really pretty. And of course, she
wasn't wearing her glasses now. She hadn't seen her reflection
since receiving the gift of improved eyesight, but she rightly
suspected the freckles would still be there.
A little voice in the back of her head told her she was
comparing herself to her mother, who was quite a beauty.
Somewhere along the way, Fay had made up her mind that she would
never be as attractive as that and had given up. Finally, the
voice reminded her of another of her books, one about how envy is
a worse emotion than jealousy because the latter merely wants
want someone else has, while the former is a destroyer that wants
no one to possess or enjoy good things.
While Fay was caught up in thoughts of vanity, Kitnip, who
never gave her appearance a moment's thought, grew closer and
closer to the objective. The closer the cat drew to this new
human, the less danger was felt by the naturally cautious feline.
When Kitnip prowled right up to sandaled feet, the cat could not
resist the impulse to curl up there and start purring.
Which is exactly when the young woman looked down and said,
"I'm Jennifer. Who are you?"
Now this was a surprise. Jennifer expected the cat to talk.
"I'm Kitnip," came the answer, mixed up with ongoing sounds of
purring. "I'm traveling with a young human to the Hive."
"Where is this young human?" asked Jennifer.
"She's waiting for me to tell her it's safe."
"Then tell her."
So Kitnip did. But it's not like Fay hadn't been
eavesdropping on every word of the conference. As the girl from
earth stepped into the open, Jennifer exclaimed, "Oh, you're
lovely."
Normally a compliment didn't mean much to Fay. But as those
golden words left Jennifer's lips, Fay felt a warm glow of
satisfaction unlike anything she'd felt before. People were
always making her feel like she had to justify herself. Here was
someone who accepted her completely on first sight.
"Let's eat!" said Jennifer without further preamble.
"Thank you," said Fay who was indeed hungry by now.
"The food is good," boasted Jennifer, "and best of all,
eating it won't make you a slave." Fay and Kitnip exchanged
curious glances at that last remark, but it was good to know that
their next meal would come with such a high recommendation.
Then Jennifer passed her new companions some flowers! As
the hostess was already putting one past the rosy portal of her
own lips, Fay screwed up her courage and ate one, too. It tasted
awfully good despite appearances and smelling of perfume. She'd
swear she was eating cheese. Kitnip, more hesitant, sniffed at
the petals of her offering quite a long time before taking atentative lick at it, then happily gulped down what tasted very
much like liver.
Next wooden cups were produced by Jennifer; these she filled
with water from the pool and passed one to Fay while placing the
other before the cat. That's when Jennifer noticed the bundle
tied up in Fay's blouse. The earth girl wearing nothing on top
had not drawn the young woman's attention at all.
"That's a pretty bag," she said.
"It's actually my blouse, a shirt I should be wearing," said
Fay, a little embarrassed.
Jennifer blinked her large eyes and smiled prettily at Fay.
"Then why are you using it as a container?"
"Because I had nothing else."
"Oh. Please let me give you a sack and you can have your
clothing back."
Kitnip rubbed up against Jennifer's leg. She didn't usually
take to strangers this quickly, but Fay felt the same way.
Jennifer started rummaging around several boulders over by the
spring and, hesto-presto, came up with an emerald green sack that
was so pretty that it took the breath away.
"I can't thank you enough!" said Fay.
"I'll allow you to try," said Jennifer sweetly. "By the
way, what are you carrying exactly?"
Exchanging glances with Kitnip, Fay decided to keep no
secrets from this person. "Only a few pine cones," she admitted.
"Mmmmmm hhhhmmmmm," was Jennifer's response through closed
lips. "Just as I expected. They're only dangerous in the hands
of types like you and me, in case you didn't know."
"Sometimes I'm glad I don't have the responsibility of
hands," said Kitnip.
"I haven't used them yet," said Fay. "I doubt they'll
amount to much."
"Take care," warned Jennifer, reaching out to touch one of
the cones as Fay untied her shirt. "They only work against the
proper foes, but then they are lethal. That's why Malak works so
hard to ban their use from the Seasons."
"What foes?" asked Fay, afraid that she already knew.
Fay shrugged and told her: "Monsters, of course."