“We must send the Xaxor first,” said Tast-e. “They will die if we can’t get them dry.”
One of the Xaxor on Tast-e’s back twitched a leg, then wilted deeper into the others.
A portal opened just above the water.
Ip, who could float and who swam gracefully, despite his large, blobby body, lifted one Xaxor and then another, passing them through the portal.
“Wait!” I cried, splashing over to them. “Where is ours?”
“He tricked us twice!” said Becky. “Send him back!”
“He didn’t,” I said. “Or maybe he did, I don’t know. But they helped us fight off the Pipe Men. They didn’t sell us after all, did they?”
Our Xaxor was the last one left, sitting on top of Grav-e. It flailed its legs and lifted its body partially upright, so it could look at me with all three eyes. It looked sad and sick, wilted with water, but its eyes were clear enough.
“Goodbye, Xaxor,” I said. “I believe you about not wanting to hurt us, and thank you for helping.”
The Xaxor reached a leg out and gently brushed my face. Then it blinked all three eyes at me slowly. “Thank you, Earth,” said its voice, distant and quiet in my head, as if through a great empty distance. “It has been fun.”
Ip lifted the Xaxor and gently pushed it through the portal. The door closed.
“You’d better get the Brocine home next,” said Tast-e. “They need fresh water.”
“Can you do one right by you?” I asked.
A tiny portal opened right next to Front’s body, where Gript sat with Mom and his family.
I swam back to them. “Goodbye, Gript! Thank you for everything, and good luck.”
“Go safely, Ry-an,” said Gript. “Without you, my children would not have survived. If we can ever help you in any way, we will.”
Becky picked Gript up and hugged him close.
The little Brocine squirmed, pulling his nose away, but laughed at the same time.
Mom gently picked up one of the adult children and passed her through the portal, following with the others, one by one.
Gript bowed to her, then to Becky, waved at me with a toothy grin, and followed. The portal snapped shut.
“Who’s next?” I said, looking around. Only Ip and the two Hottini were left.
“Ip can’t leave!” Becky cried. She leaned over Front’s body and held her arms out.
Ip swam over and wrapped a wet, blobby arm around her, pulling her into the water. She climbed onto his shoulders. “You have a nice planet,” Ip said. “Much like Hdkowl before the Masters came, with this beautiful water. But I have to go home. I’ll find some way to see you.”
I translated. I didn’t know how he could possibly do that, since Front had closed up all the portals, but I didn’t say anything. Becky knew all that anyway.
“Come on, stay with us!” she said. “We’ll have lots of fun! I’ll take you out in the yard every night!”
I translated.
“Someday,” said Ip.
“At least wait,” Becky insisted. “Leave last!”
“All right,” said Ip. “Let our friends go first.”
Becky leaned over Ip’s shoulders toward the Hottini. “I’ll . . .” She struggled for the words. “Miss you, too.”
Grav-e’s mouth twitched, revealing the closest thing to a real smile I’d seen on a Hottini. “It’s been a pleasure,” he said. Then he nodded deeply at Front’s floating body. “And we must thank the Frontringhor. With you hiding on Earth, the Masters are no longer Masters. To think that all of space travel has depended on a single from for all these years! Even we Hottini have much to learn.”
“I must thank you,” said Front’s voice.
Grav-e eyed the floating creature. “Though we did not know we were helping you,” he said,“we are glad to have played a role in obtaining your freedom.”
“I am sorry about your planet,” said Front. “I hope there was no permanent damage.”
“There was not,” said Tast-e. “The Masters”—Tast-e nodded at me—“or rather, the Pipe Men, assisted us. I hope you are also safe.”
“They will not find me,” said Front. “Once you all have left, there will be no more portals until I have recovered and I am ready.”
“As it should be,” said Grav-e. “Goodbye, Frontringhor. Goodbye, Ry-an. Goodbye, Beck-y.” Grav-e nodded ever so slightly to each of us and then swam into the portal that appeared hovering above the water.
“Go safely,” said Tast-e, nodding just as slightly at me.
“And hold your eyes still,” I said.
Tast-e nodded again, taking a last look at all of us and at the ocean, and then swam after Grav-e. The portal closed so abruptly, it nearly caught the very end of Tast-e’s tail.
“Are you tired, Front?” asked Becky. “Maybe you can’t send Ip back!”
“I can handle it,” said Front softly. His voice now seemed to come from very far.
Dad was now hanging on to Front next to Ip, who still had Becky on his shoulders. “Come on, honey, get back on the big from.” He reached out his arms to help her.
Becky gave Ip a long squeeze around his head.
Ip’s horn shook, making ripples in the water.
Crying, Becky accepted Dad’s help and climbed down onto Front, who was now sunk so low that water was lapping over his back even in the calm sea.
“Thank you for taking care of my family,” said Dad. “We will never forget it.” Dad gripped Ip’s arm, and Ip smiled, rolling his large eyes to take us all in.
“It’s been quite a ride!” he said. “Thanks to you all, we will be able to free our home of the Masters. Come here.” Ip reached out an arm to me.
I swam into it, holding back tears myself.
“You’ve got quite a child, Oscar,” said Ip.
“I know,” said Dad.
Ip patted Front. “I knew you’d get free someday,” said Ip. “Thank you for taking us all with you.”
“It was my pleasure, friend,” said Front.
Another portal opened.
Ip opened his giant, wet, blobby arms, and we all fell into them, before he swam out of sight, his horn shaking in the water.
Thirty-Four
MOM, DAD, BECKY, AND I sat on top of Front, trying to stay out of the water. Luckily, the sun was still high in the sky, but we were all shivering from being soaked through.
“Can you open one last portal, Front?” I asked.
“I can handle one more, Ryan,” said Front. “But after this, I will be gone for a long time.”
“I don’t want to go home,” said Becky.
“Where else should we go, honey?” asked Mom.
“I don’t know—somewhere else. Anywhere! We could go to Gript’s planet, or Ip’s planet.”
“It won’t be that bad,” I said. “We can go to school like everyone else now. We can go outside, wear normal clothes. We won’t have to hide anymore.” Even as I said it, though, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go home either. I thought about the cashier at the store, the policeman.
“You’ll get used to it,” said Dad. “We all will. It will just take a little time.” He put his arm around Becky and pulled her close.
“We’re never going to see the Pipe Men again,” Becky sobbed. “We’re never going to go anywhere or meet any other froms. We’re only going to see stupid Earth people for the rest of our lives!”
“There must be a few Pipe Men still on Earth,” said Mom. “Who knows what they’ll do now that the portals are closed.”
“Really?” Becky sniffed, but smiled a little. “We can find them and they can still teach me to speak Pipe Man!”
“We’ll see, honey,” said Mom.
“Don’t cry, Becky,” said Front, his voice even farther off now. “I’ll be better someday. For you, I’ll open a portal again. I just need to rest for a while.”
“Do you mean it?” She pulled away from Dad and sank her arms into the water, wrapping them around Front’s body.
>
A portal popped open only a few feet from her head. Its edges were indistinct, and it swirled crookedly.
“This should take you near your house,” said Front. It was the tiniest whisper.
“Come on, honey,” said Mom.
Becky kept sobbing. “How are we going to find you?”
“I’ll find you,” Front whispered.
“Find me as soon as you can!” She hugged him one more time, and then Dad picked her up and, splashing, carried her through the portal.
Mom jumped into the water and reached out her hand to me.
“I wish I still had the calculator,” I said. “I wish I had something to remember you by.”
“I won’t forget, Ryan. When I am well . . .” He sank an inch deeper in the water. “When I am well, we will go out again together.”
I took Mom’s hand and let her help me, until I was sloshing into my own backyard, which was now muddy with salt water. Mom and I joined Dad and Becky, and we all stood huddled together in the twilight, watching the last portal sputter shut.
One
EVAN SAT ON HIS BED with his back against the pillow. The light was so low that the room was bathed in shadows. They fell from the clutter, making dark shapes on the worn hardwood floor. But Evan was so used to the darkness that he saw the shapes making the shadows, even the paint peeling off the once-white walls.
He saw shelves lined with books and toys and model airplane kits. Action figures sat here and there, discarded. On a rolling cart at the edge of the bed was a television. It was small and old and attached to an antenna that sat somewhere far away, on the roof of this weathered, tipping house.
His mother had boarded over the room’s single window and covered the boards with a framed painting. It showed a broad meadow with tall grass, a blue sky, and sunshine his mother said was “so bright it might jump off the canvas and light up the room.” Evan tried not to look at it. He would rather just have the plain brown boards.
Evan knew what was outside. It was not a brilliant meadow with tall grass. It was an unkempt front lawn, covered in dandelions. The grass was patchy, and cracked dirt showed through. Beyond the front yard was a potholed street and beyond that, the train tracks. One large oak tree broke the boredom. Its large green leaves would have just returned for the beginning of spring.
He remembered the last time he had seen it, more than a year ago. It had been winter then. The leaves had been gone, but his rope ladder had still hung from the tree trunk. He used to climb that ladder to the first fork, then climb the branches up. From there he could see more houses, more of the road, more of the train tracks. That winter he had watched the ladder through the window, straining to catch the last glimmer of sunshine, even though it hurt his eyes.
“Don’t look, honey,” his mother had said, placing the first board over the glass. But he had.
Evan flexed his fingers, used them to push himself up further, to a full sitting position. Moving them was like pulling a rubber band. They wanted to curl back on themselves, roll into a ball, and stay there. He flexed them more, pressed his nails against the membrane. It hurt, but he ignored the pain, flexing his fingers even harder. Then, slowly, he let them curl back, feeling the membrane relax onto itself. It felt strangely good, like poking a healing bruise.
He sucked in his breath. It came roughly, and he rubbed his nose with his fingers, upsetting the sticky membranes that had started to cover the nostrils. Rubbing them would help him breathe for a while, until they got in the way again. Without planning to, he rubbed his feet together under the blankets. The webs of the right foot grated the toes of the left. Then he rubbed the other way. It felt oddly calming and was his habit when thinking unpleasant thoughts.
He stared at the television. Inside it were a thousand worlds. Real streets, real buildings, trees, oceans, and sunshine. All that background, used to tell a story, showed Evan what was out there. Where he could be standing if he could stand at all. The TV was blank. He could watch it with the brightness turned down to almost nothing, but right now he didn’t want to turn it on.
A familiar soft knock invaded the silence. Evan said nothing but stared down at his hands. He heard the creaking as the knob turned and the door slowly opened, revealing the small, partially gray head of his mother, peering in from the darkness.
The hallway was black. No light could come in from outside the room. His mother had learned to navigate the staircase and the hallway in the dark. She was carrying a wooden tray made with feet on it, for serving breakfast in bed. But breakfast was gone and this was dinner, steaming up from the plates and filling the room with its inviting smell.
Evan’s stomach gurgled, and he was lifted a little from his sadness.
“Hi, Mom,” he said. “What did you bring me?” He could see her smile, but he was sure that she could not see his. The room was too dark.
“Beef stew,” she said, “with lots of potatoes. And biscuits!” His mother knew how much he loved her biscuits. She walked into the room, her feet tracing the path they always took, which Evan kept free of clutter just for her. She leaned over the bed and set the tray over his legs. Then she sat down herself and closed her hand over his calf, which was underneath the blankets.
“I’m sorry it’s late, honey. I had to work overtime again.” Her voice sounded tired.
“That’s okay,” Evan said. “It’s worth the wait.” He bit into one of the biscuits and felt the sweet jam meld with the fluffy bread.
His mother smiled wanly. “It’s Roy again,” she went on. “I’m lucky he shows up at all.” Roy was the person who was supposed to relieve her so she could come home and be with Evan. But he was always late.
“They should fire him,” said Evan with his mouth full.
“I can always use the extra hours,” she said, smiling bigger, like she wanted to change the subject. She got up and went to a shelf along the wall. She pushed her face in closely, trying to get a good look at what was on it.
“How’s that model airplane coming?” she asked. She had bought him a new one, one that was supposed to be for littler kids, easier to do with his degrading fingers. His mother didn’t know they were so bad now, he couldn’t even do the kiddie kit.
“Oh, I didn’t get to it today,” he said. He shoveled the food in, hoping she wouldn’t see him struggling to grip the spoon. “There were some good movies on TV.”
The sad smile on her face made him unsure whether she believed the lie. He knew that there was just enough light in the room for her to see his face after her eyes had adjusted. She sighed but didn’t ask about it any further.
She sat down on the bed again and started telling him about her day. The crazy customers, the stupid boss. She always injected as much humor as she could, but it still sounded sad. Evan knew that the crazy customers were mean and the stupid boss was nasty.
He knew his mother only worked there for the health insurance, so a doctor could come to Evan’s room once a month, look at him, shake his head, and go away again. They had long since passed any hope of a doctor figuring this out, but the doctor kept coming.
“Dr. Allen is the best. If anyone can figure this out, he can.” His mother had said this after he had returned from the hospital, after the specialists and the scientists had given up.
Evan liked the old man. He gave Evan candy and told funny stories, just like he had when Evan was very little. But Evan knew that Dr. Allen couldn’t help. It was just his mother’s way of hanging on to hope.
His mother stayed with Evan for a while. They talked about the movies Evan had watched on TV that week and the books he had read. With his single tiny lamp, covered so it barely glowed, Evan could still make out all the words. Now that reading was one of the few things he could do, he was starting to like it. Finally, she left the room with his dinner tray.
“Good night, honey,” she said, forcing a smile as she opened the door into the blackness.
“Good night, Mom,” Evan replied. As she closed the door behind her, h
e felt as if the darkness from the hallway sucked out what light he had left inside, even though he could still see as sharply as a cat. He felt so sorry every time she left. Sorry she had to go through having a son like this. Sorry she had to work at that awful store. Sorry she had to live alone and never get married and never have a normal child all because of him.
Evan was about to turn out the remainder of his meager light and go to sleep, the better to stop these thoughts from overwhelming him. But he heard another familiar knock. It came from inside his private bathroom, part of what once was a master bedroom. This knock was not soft. It was quiet, but it was hard. It was a knock that would not take no. Again, Evan said nothing, and slowly the doorknob turned.
He heard the shuffling of its nubs against the old wood floor. It sounded like hissing, and Evan squinted and turned his head to the wall as it came closer, not wanting to look. The hissing stopped, and that was even worse. The stink filled the room completely.
“What do you want now?” Evan asked, still looking away.
“You don’t want to look at me,” the thing said. Its voice was low and quiet, rough like it had a throat infection. “You are still scared of me.” The thing chuckled.
“I’m not scared,” said Evan. “I don’t understand why you have to come here is all. Why can’t you leave me alone?” He bit down on his lip and kept looking at the wall.
“To see you are well, proem, to see you are well,” said the thing, with just a hint of malice.
“You should want me to be well!” Evan whispered. He didn’t want his mother to hear, but he wanted to scream at the thing, chase it out for once instead of letting it stand there.
“Oh, I do, proem. I want you to be very well,” it hissed.
“Then leave me alone! I’m getting worse anyway. Just go away and wait!” Evan hissed back, turning to face the thing at last. It was familiar, but it still always filled him with disgust.
It stood a foot higher than the bed. Its soft pink body was shaped like a finger, covered with folds of the same yellowish membrane that was slowly choking Evan himself. Its eyes were soft, glowing white balls sunk into the pink flesh. They had no pupils and never moved. Its mouth was a tiny wrinkled hole, deep in the thing’s face. Only when it opened in laughter could Evan see the two sharp fangs. It had no nose.
Escape from the Pipe Men! Page 20
