The Hellandback Kids: Be Careful What You Wish For

by LL Helland

  Chris puffed up his chest when he heard the word “savior.” Just then Bihydrant threw the ball, hitting Chris in the back of the head.

  Tompack said, “Now let’s discuss our options.”

  Chris was still rubbing his head where the ball had hit him. “What options?”

  Tompack said, “Let me see the crystal on that watch.”

  Without taking it off, Chris bent his arm so Tompack could see the face. Tompack picked up a ball and Chris’s lacrosse stick. “You know how to use these things?”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m an attack man on our team. I’ve had a lacrosse stick in my hand since I was three.”

  Bihydrant, Kaver, and Quill were poking each other with Chris’s extra sticks. Tompack put his hand on Quill’s head, and Quill instantly slumped to the ground.

  Chris said, “Neat trick! You need to show me that sometime. What do you want me to do, shoot a ball through an opening?”

  Tompack said, “Something like that. But, you have to make the hole first—by bouncing your lacrosse ball against the ice wall until the wall is chipped away.”

  “Now that’s going to take some serious concentration.” Chris thought about his older brother and how he made everything look so easy. Why hadn’t he listened to him and practiced more?

  Kaver, the Bundlebob who had not said anything up to this point, said, “I’m hungry.” He sat down and broke off a piece of his big toenail. “Chris, would you like some?”

  Chris looked at the thick, discolored toenail that Kaver was eating and said, “No, I think I will wait until I can eat something that doesn’t grow from my own body.”

  “Suit yourself, but we have to be self-sufficient. There isn’t a whole lot of food here.”

  Chris said, “Now if these guns will just carry me through.”

  Kaver took a bite of his nail and said, “Chris, if you have guns, why don’t you just shoot through the ice?”

  The Bundlebobs looked at Chris, waiting for an answer. Tompack eagerly jumped into Chris’s bag, looking for the gun and tossing everything out.

  Chris said, “It’s just an expression that my brother and I use when we are talking about our muscles.” Chris pointed to his biceps and laughed a little.

  Chris started bouncing the ball against the wall. He had to start over several times, but he finally got into a rhythm. The Bundlebobs were singing some silly song behind him, which actually helped him get into a flow. When he got tired, he switched to the other hand, and the Bundlebobs cheered him on. As he chipped the wall away, light started to shine through. It was only a hole about the size of a dull pencil point, but the light poured through like a thousand flashlights. The light was so bright that it temporarily blinded Chris. He could not see the ball, and he had to throw the ball by sound and feel. Chris could tell he was making progress by the encouraging shouts from the Bundlebobs. As the hole grew bigger, the Bundlebobs crowded around him.

  Chris yelled, “Clear!” and they all jumped back, shuddering and covering their ears. The hole was just about the right size for the Bundlebobs to get through, but Chris could never fit.

  Chris heard Quill, the one with the chunk out of his ear, say, “Let’s just jump through the hole. He can get through on his own.”

  Tompack said, “You are forgetting—we work as a team.”

  Chris chimed in. “What team? I’m doing all the work.”

  “Chris, you will see at another time, but we all must stick together.”

  Bihydrant picked up the other lacrosse stick and said, “Yes, see this stick? We must stick together.”

  Chris figured Bihydrant was the funny one of the group. “You four are ruining my concentration, and I still don’t know why I’ve been ‘banished’ to this side.” Chris couldn’t believe it. Just when he was becoming totally exhausted, his cheering section quit. Maybe they had even left, but Chris did not want to turn around and look. Just a few more ball bounces, and he would be out of here.

  Suddenly, Chris heard the four Bundlebobs yell, “Three, two, one!” Then Tompack grabbed Chris’s sweatshirt, and the five of them were propelled through the hole, but the lacrosse stick that Kaver was holding was caught on the other side of the wall, jerking the five of them backward. They hung there for a few terrifying seconds, with the hole quickly closing in on Kaver’s hand, until he turned the stick so it could pass through the hole. Just in time they all tumbled out on the other side, landing on top of one another.

  Chris spat out a mouthful of green, dirty fur and pushed Bihydrant off of him. The Bundlebobs were dancing around, elated that Chris had gotten them to the other side. Chris cleared his throat, looked around, and wondered why there was not any more snow. It was cold, but not freezing.

  Chris said, “Tompack, are you sure this was where we are supposed to be?”

  Kaver said, “Maybe we went through the wrong hole?”

  “What are you talking about? I only made one hole, and there was no other option.”

  Tompack said, “Chris, you are right. We had no other option. We must keep going.”

  This was getting old. “Going where? I need to wake up!” Chris knew he was a heavy sleeper and that it took his mother a great deal to get him up in the mornings. He thought quickly and then slammed his lacrosse stick into his foot, hoping the pain would jolt him out of this place. He jumped up, yelled, and quickly sat down to rub his injured foot. Nope, he was still in this strange place with even stranger companions.

  Kaver grabbed the stick from Chris and slammed it down on his foot. Chris let out a vibrating scream—the Bundlebobs may have been small, but they had the strength of many men. Chris could barely catch his breath. Quill grabbed the stick and aimed for Chris’s foot.

  “What is the name of this game?” Quill asked.

  Chris grabbed the stick away from Quill, and as soon as he got over the physical pain, he ran after Kaver. He yelled, “I hate wrestling, but I think I can take you!” He tackled Kaver at the knees, and he went down onto the ground. This time Tompack put his hand on Chris’s head and he went limp.

  Tompack spoke quietly. “Kaver thought it was a game; he didn’t mean to hurt you. Now, let me look at your foot.”

  Chris took off his cleat. His right foot was developing a huge bruise and was swelling to twice its normal size, which was very painful. Chris thought it might even be broken.

  “Great,” he said sarcastically, “now I need ice, and there isn’t any. Bihydrant, can you look through my bag? My mom always puts aspirin in there for aches and pains, and this is definitely a pain.”

  Tompack said, “Forget that.” He bent down and put his hand on Chris’s foot, squeezing it.

  Chris said, “Hey, you can’t bring it back to normal size by squeezing it.” But it did not hurt like it should have. And the pain was subsiding. When Tompack took his hand away, Chris’s foot looked and felt normal.

  “How did you do that? Are you some kind of witch doctor?” Chris stared at the Bundlebob in awe.

  Tompack looked at Chris sternly. “We don’t have time to talk about healing. We need to get moving. Let us go in this direction.”

  Chris had no plan in mind, so he set out with the four Bundlebobs. When the five of them had walked for over an hour, it was beginning to get dark, and with the sun no longer warming them, Chris started to feel cold. He felt nothing but relief when Tompack said, “Let’s stop for dinner,” as he plopped down at the base of a large oak tree.

  Since Chris had no food, he looked at Tompack expectantly. “What do we eat?”

  Quill broke off an extra long toenail and said, “These are rather filling. Care to try one now?”

  “Uh, no thanks. I believe I have some power bars in my lacrosse bag.”

  Kaver broke off one of his toenails and stuck it in his ear. He brought it back out of his ear, dripping a yellowish substance.

  Determined not to let Kaver get to him, Chris said, “I see you can do your hygiene and eat all at the same time.”

&nbs
p; Tompack said, “Chris, this is gold jam. It has a lot of nutrients in it. Care to try it? You can put it on one of your power bars.”

  Chris turned away and opened up one of his bars. He was starving, but he could barely eat it, thanks to the image of Kaver sticking his toenail into his ear, pulling out some type of syrup, and pretending that was normal. All this was beginning to stress Chris out.

  Bihydrant sniffed Chris’s power bar.

  Chris yelled, “Clear!” All the Bundlebobs jumped a few feet into the air, impressing Chris with the height of their jumps. The Bundlebobs settled again, massaging their ears.

  Feeling slightly guilty, Chris said, “Look—stay away from my food. And I will try and stay away from your toenails.”

  Bihydrant seemed hurt. “I wasn’t going to eat that foul-smelling bar; I just wanted to inspect it.”

  Tompack finished his meal and began making signals with his hands.

  Chris said, “Hey Tompack—you playing an imaginary piano? I do the same with my invisible electric guitar. I play air guitar.”

  “I assure you, Chris, I’m not playing. This is serious. I’m trying to reach any other Bundlebobs in this area. This is our secret language, not to be used by furless creatures as you. No one other than a Bundlebob could duplicate it.”

  “My brother could just see you doing that once and repeat it correctly.”

  “I very much doubt that.” Tompack turned away from Chris anyway and finished what he was doing.

  Chris’s wristwatch that his great-grandfather Alastair had given to him was making a buzzing sound. Chris had forgotten about the watch. It took Chris several attempts, but he finally got the noise shut off and could see Alastair in the crystal of the watch.

  Alastair was calling out to Chris in a muffled voice. “Chris, have you met the Bundlebobs? Chris, are you there? Over. Chris, have you made it to the other side of the ice wall? Chris! Chris! Are you there? Over.”

  “Yeah, I’m here, Great-Grandfather. You need to get some modern communication equipment. Sounds like a six-year-old’s walkie-talkie. Over.” Chris broke out in loud laughter.

  Chris could hear Alastair give a heavy sigh. “Chris, have you come to the bridge yet?”

  “Uh, that’s a negative. Over.” Chris started to laugh again.

  Alastair said with a voice that Chris could barely hear, “Chris, keep in touch. Over.”

  “Yeah, sure thing. Over and out.”

  Tompack said, “If you are finished poking fun at Alastair, then we’ll be on our way.”

  “Tompack, I wasn’t exactly laughing at my great-grandfather. I was making fun of his old-fashioned equipment. With the static, it was hard to hear him. I appreciate his enthusiasm for life, even if he is dead.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Back in Great-Grandmother’s hospital house, Trisha had just fallen asleep when a flood of light woke her. “It can’t be morning already.”

  Trisha sat up in bed, but was not in her coffin. She was in a large carved bed. Antique furniture filled the huge room. She had barely gotten her bearings when the bedroom door burst open and two fairly plain-looking young women came into the room. One carried a beautiful light pink dress, unlike any Trisha had ever seen. The silk gown had darker pink bows midway up the skirt, and the white lace showed where the pink material was gathered at each bow. The second young woman carried dark pink silk shoes and long white gloves.

  She said, “Miss Trisha, you need to start your day—the big ball is tonight. You asked us to call you early, miss.”

  Trisha, still half asleep, asked, “Where am I?”

  One of the attendants answered, “In your bed, miss.”

  “No! What town am I in?” This sounded strange to Trisha. She had meant to ask what city she was in.

  “Miss, do you feel all right? You’re in Oxford, England.” The two young women looked at Trisha. “Should we call a doctor, miss?”

  “No! I’m fine, just a little tired.”

  Trisha began to remember memories that were not hers, but a part of her brain thought this was her life. She lived a blessed life, attending a ball at least once a month. As most wealthy girls did, Trisha visited with friends and relatives for lively weekends that included many extravagant parties. Her relatives and parents were the same, but the time line, location, and everything else was completely different. Unless she fell ill, Trisha attended almost all of the balls and parties. Trisha wanted to find her husband-to-be. So far, she had not found any to her liking—with the exception of Godfrey. She could feel that she would be sure about her husband very soon; maybe it would turn out to be him.

  Trisha spent most of the day reading a romance novel. As she finished and looked up, she suddenly wondered where she was. Whose house was she in? Was this really her parents’ house, or was this one of the mystery rooms? Everyone seemed to think this was normal. When Trisha was about to leave the study and look for her siblings, she saw something on the desk. She picked up a thick ivory paper adorned with heavy black engraved letters. Trisha ran her fingers over the raised letters of her name, drew in a breath, and smiled to herself. It was an invitation to a ball.

  She rang for a light snack. There would be plenty of food at the ball, but it would not do for her to eat too much in public. She did not want to make a pig of herself in front of Godfrey.

  As the time to get ready drew closer, Trisha could hardly contain herself. She knew Godfrey would be there. They had recently spent a great deal of time together, and Trisha felt that he might ask for her hand in marriage soon. She was only fourteen, but she thought she was ready for the big step. Trisha did not want to end up an old spinster like her cousin. After all, she would have a long engagement where she would get to know her beloved husband-to-be. Dorothy, who had cared for Trisha since she was a little girl, came to help her dress. When her appearance finally satisfied Dorothy, Trisha put on her long white gloves.

  Trisha wished to dance without her gloves, but Dorothy would not hear of it. She would say, “Trisha, a lady always wears gloves unless she is at the table.” Trisha yearned to touch a man’s hand when she danced, especially Godfrey’s. Lately, Godfrey had put his name on her dance card as many times as he dared. They each danced with others, as etiquette demanded, but she only enjoyed dancing with her prince.

  When Trisha arrived at the ball, she quickly spotted Godfrey talking to a pretty friend of her sister’s. She caught his eye briefly, and he immediately excused himself and crossed the room to her.

  Godfrey was very handsome. His masculine face featured a square chin and dark, mysterious eyes, all framed by black hair just a little longer than his shirt collar. He bowed over Trisha’s hand. She handed him her dance card, and he filled his name in for the first dance and as many more as he could get away with. As he did, Trisha thought that she must be in love with Godfrey. Why else would she get this strange feeling when he stood near her? His eyes smoldered like coals, with fire behind them, but, through her gloves, she could feel that his hands were ice-cold. Still, her palms always tingled as she danced. It reminded her of being little and playing in the snow until her hands were half frozen. Her mother would put her hands under cool water to warm them, sending tingling sensations from the tips of her fingers and across her palm. She felt that same tingling, between freezing and warming, when she danced with Godfrey.

  Trisha danced the night away. At the end of the evening, Godfrey found a private alcove for them. He picked up her hand. “Trisha, I know we have not had a long-standing relationship, but I fear that if I don’t ask you something, you will turn away from me.”

  Trisha’s cheeks turned bright pink, and she could feel her palms sweating under her gloves. She was now glad she had worn them. She looked into Godfrey’s eyes and got an uneasy feeling. He was so handsome. She wanted someone to pinch her and wake her from her dream. How could she be so lucky? There were a lot of beautiful young women at the ball.

  Godfrey brought Trisha close to him. “Would you make me a very h
appy man and marry me?”

  Trisha squeaked out an answer. “Yes. Yes, of course I will.”

  Godfrey said, “Trisha, I don’t believe your father likes me. He showed true hesitation when I asked him for your hand. He thinks you are too young, but I think he simply doesn’t care for me.”

  “Of course he likes you, Godfrey. How could he not?” She glanced down shyly and then peeked up at him. They kissed for the first time. Trisha shivered. From nowhere came the thought that she did not really know Godfrey. She knew he had no family in Oxford, and was very rich, but that was all.

  Godfrey said, “Trisha, will you please come to my residence on Sunday for brunch? I’m having a small gathering of friends and would love for you to meet them.”

  This was going so fast. “I believe that would be fine, Godfrey.”

  When Sunday finally came, Trisha arrived at Godfrey’s, impressed by his huge house. She asked, “Are you the only one who lives here?”

  “Yes, at the moment.” Beautiful portraits adorned the entire length of the hallway. Trisha froze in front of one of them; she had seen this woman before. Her mind raced—the purple silk dress with lace at the collar and cuffs, the large brooch pinned in the middle, and the hat with feathers. The woman’s thin lips, and close-set eyes. Where she had seen her before?

  It looked like the woman was saying something to Trisha. Her lips seemed to form the words “Get out before you die.”

  Trisha stepped closer to the portrait, but Godfrey hovered by her side, asking, “Trisha, my dear, what is wrong?”

  “Nothing at all. Please continue. What were you saying?” Trisha looked at Godfrey, painfully conscious of his tight grip on her arm. He stared at the portrait of the woman as if his glare could kill.

  Trisha said, “I know I just arrived, but I’m suddenly feeling unwell. I think it is best if I leave now.”

  Godfrey patted Trisha’s hand as they entered the study. “Come, Trisha, don’t be silly. I want you to meet my friends.”

  All along one wall in the study stood immense glass jars, resting on the floor. As Trisha walked over to one of the glass jars, she saw that they seemed to be filled with dirt.