Longevity- the Wardens of Time

by Caleb Smith

  “Good. Go to your room then. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the night.”

  It was uncommon for them to fight like this. They had been closer since the move. This whole situation was strange for their bond, and it left a sour feeling in the pit of Noah’s stomach. He slammed his bedroom door, unable to focus on anything except anger toward his mother. After cooling off, he realized his book bag wasn’t anywhere in sight. So, he barged back out of his room searching wildly for it, like a bear looking for a lost cub. It was in the hallway next to his bike, but between him and it, stood his mother. Like a ferocious wolf, she guarded her territory, knowing what he was after.

  “Did you come out to apologize?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you’re not getting that bag until you do, mister.”

  Not mister! Stop it with the mister talk; I’m in 7th grade, he thought.

  It killed him, but he managed to muster a weak response. “I’m sorry.”

  “I can’t hear you,” she replied, holding the leverage of a new adventure over his head.

  “I’m sorry!”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “Sorry for yelling.”

  “And,” she continued, “what else?”

  “I’m sorry for being difficult.”

  “I was looking for ‘sorry I acted like a jerk,’ but I guess we can compromise.”

  “Good. Can I have my bag now, please?”

  She grabbed it from behind her and handed it to him. “Are you going to come eat this dinner that I made?”

  If he refused it would have led down a darker road, so he had no choice but to answer affirmatively as she handed the bag over. He put it away in his room and met her at the kitchen table.

  Dinner was anything but delightful. Not another word was spoken. He ate as fast as he could, refusing to enjoy the taste. Like an android drinking motor oil, he finished what little was on his plate and excused himself from the table. To his sanctuary he shuffled. His world and his universe welcomed his arrival.

  Noah dug into his pack and pulled out the royal blue covered book that held no title. He opened the cover and a whirlwind blew the pages, pushing his hair back as if a fan were in his face. After settling from the surprise, he made out the title: Book II: The Boy Who Flew. He opened the first page and was immediately sucked in. He let the pages go as air ravaged his entire body. He was high in the sky falling straight down. His eyes were as big as dinner plates, and he was not ready for this fantasy. He had always wanted to fly, but being forced to do so brought great anxiety. He didn’t want to close his eyes and count to three, yet he needed to get out of this situation, even if momentarily.

  It took a minute for Noah to ground himself and remember that this was his universe; he could fly wherever he wanted. Once he wrapped his head around the idea, he started leveling out, instead of falling straight. The tiny grids below were becoming bigger, but he didn’t let that bother him as he started flying in circles, practicing stops in mid-air. Wow, he thought, now I know how Superman felt, totally free from everything below.

  He now controlled his falling speed and remained idle at three thousand feet. He pushed off as he flew above oceans and lakes to circumnavigate the globe. He imagined himself flying faster than ever, faster than Mach 3 speed. In a physical world, his flesh would have been peeled off from head to toe, leaving his blood to dissolve in thin air while his bones dried and crumbled like saltine crackers. But not in this world. In this dimensional place, wherever it was, he could do anything. As he made his way across the Atlantic Ocean, large land masses started to present themselves in the shape of a European coast line. Perhaps France, England or Spain – he wasn’t sure. What he did know was that he now had fighter jets on his tail trying to inch closer.

  Oh no, he thought, as a missile was fired to take him out. I must have grabbed someone’s attention. He quickly put on the brakes and made himself drop as the weapon sailed over his head. Now two more jets armed with destruction weapons pulled into the mix, and he flew down toward the ground, which was littered by man-made structures and tire-driven mobile units. Maybe if he flew low enough they would stop firing missiles his way. But, that was not the case – another flying bomb inched its way past him while hitting a rooftop just under his belly. He looked back and saw smoke, fire, and splinters erupt.

  Well, these guys aren’t messing around! He flew even lower to the streets and in between structures. This was his advantage; he could fly places where the jets could not. Heck, he could even land on the ground and blend in if he wanted, but he did not. Noah didn’t want to attack a jet, but he felt like it was a test he had to take. With his fists leading the way, he flew as hard as he could up toward the jet that shadowed him from above. Coming in contact, he pushed beneath the nose and pushed it up, forcing the jet to fly straight up.

  The aircraft from behind fired two missiles, heading straight for him. He put the brakes on again, stopping in mid-air. Like a bull fighter, he dodged each missile nimbly while flying back downward as the jets screeched by. Off in the distance, the missiles struck unintended targets, turning them to exploded mush. I gotta get out of here! Noah flew straight and fast toward the moon. The jets gave their best attempt to follow him, but as soon as he cleared the atmosphere, they had no choice but to turn back. When he finally made it to the moon, the boy slowed his pace so he could land gingerly and walk on the ancient dirt and gravel. He was astonished to find that he could somehow breathe easily, despite lack of oxygen. To think that there could have been life here before earth! His mind sparkled.

  The boy imagined a brighter place with housing built mostly underground, leaving just rooftops visible on the surface. Structures on the moon would have been built under the surface, providing a stronger shelter accustomed to harsh weather and common meteor showers. The moon people would have been a larger species, taller than humans. They also would have been a lot more intelligent, leading the way in nuclear fusion and space travel. What on earth would have ended their civilization? What would have made bright blue skies fade to black and emerald green grass turn to gray dirt? It was apparent to him that everything here died for one reason or another. The moon and the life it may have hosted was now gone, buried in its own desolate grave dating back to a time unimaginable to man.

  Wow! The moon! What a place! He thrust himself back in the air and flew back toward Earth. While making out the continents from above, he flew toward the Americas, and as he once again reached the atmosphere, he felt a change in the air. While inching his way closer to the ground, he quickly realized that there were no structures or signs of human life below – no grids or moving cars (a good thing, because that meant no fighter jets either).

  What he wasn’t ready for were the dinosaurs, especially the big ones that could fly. He landed on a tree branch two hundred feet above the ground, as he watched a herd of triceratops roaming in a large group below. He also watched velociraptors strategically shadowing the herd from the edges in the trees, waiting for a straggler to step outside of the tight knit group. The triceratops were no fools in this game; they knew exactly where their stalkers were, and they kept their children in the middle of the pack safely among them.

  Noah remained silent in his tree above, watching this ancient species roam about. From the corner of his right eye, he saw a youngling start to veer outside of its protective circle, unaware of the dangers that surrounded it. It was careless of direction, and none of the elders tried to herd it back into the protective bubble. The raptors, shadowing the right side, congregated in anticipation of an attack.

  Noah couldn’t help it – he yelled out. “Hey! Hey! Your youngling is going to get attacked!”

  His words might as well have been silent, because none of the creatures paid him any attention. The herd just kept roaming onward, seemingly unaware of the soon-to-be lost child. Noah was faced with a decision: act or let nature take its course? There had been so many times in his past when he had done nothing when bullies ha
d demoralized him. The edge of resistance had finally caught up. It had been nipping at his heels a day ago, and now it was biting his ankles. He jumped out of the tree in a swan dive and quickly straightened his position into Super Man flight pattern – straight, fast, and fists forward. He flew as fast as he could toward the first raptor, which was now running toward its foreseen meal. Just as the predator edged ahead, Noah dived in, slamming both of his fists into the side of the raptor’s head, knocking the creature over on its side. The other two salivating predators sounded off a dinosaur battle cry and charged the youngling. Two adult male triceratops heard this and immediately intervened in the attack. While cutting the hunters off, one stuck its horns through the ribcage of the raptor, knocking it to the ground. The other used this to his advantage and weaseled its way around the two fully grown, horned beasts, taking a nipping bite at the young pup. Noah flew over quickly, rotating his feet forward, and drop-kicked the beast in the back of the head. He disoriented the creature long enough for the elders to get their cub back in the ranks of safety.

  But before he could revel in his triumphs, and while hovering in mid-air, Noah was preyed upon by a giant pterodactyl that swooped down and took a biting swipe at him with its long sharp snout. Its razor sharp teeth caught Noah’s cotton tee-shirt and ripped the cloth from the boy’s body instantaneously.

  “Oh no!” Noah yelled out, keeping an eye on the giant flying creature looping around in the sky, now making its way back for another attack. I need a weapon. He waited for the beast to fly around again and as it was about to reach him, the boy jumped on the prehistoric creature’s back. As he did, he wrapped his arm around the neck and rode it like a horse. At first, the dinosaur shook, kicked, and twisted mid-flight, trying to get the clinging boy off. Noah gripped more tightly, and there was simply nothing the oversized, featherless creature could do.

  On a whim, Noah thought to calm the creature down by singing a soothing tune, and he belted out a lullaby in an attempt to knock the jitters and spunk out of the creature. It took a few pets on the head and some gentle whispers to settle the pterodactyl into acquiescence, but it worked.

  Noah rode the bird all around the prehistoric lands and over the ocean, enjoying each dip and swoop the animal took until the ride through the air became gentle. The sensation put him to sleep, and he didn’t need to count to three this time as a whirlwind of magic pulled him out of the final pages and placed him on his bed.

  The feeling of cotton on his face wakened him – it was no longer a layer of leathery skin that his arms embraced. He quickly closed the book shut, unable to decipher if what he had just experienced had been a dream or reality. In any case, Book II: The Boy Who Flew, was finished.

  Chapter 12

  Peanut butter and jelly two days in a row; imagine that! Was the fact that he was able to eat two consecutive lunches at school a coincidence? He didn’t know, but in any case he just enjoyed the lunch thoroughly; Peter Pan peanut butter and Welch’s grape jelly. It was more than just the flavor he was enjoying; it was the whole experience. He was eating food among his peers and didn’t know if this would be the last time (he had thought yesterday had been). So, today’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich was more than just a sandwich, the lunch represented hope that times of punishment might be fading out. After all, it was now mid May with only a month of school left.

  It was also the second consecutive day that Mike Nason had been absent, which was another coincidence in Noah’s mind and one that was more than likely tied to his peaceful lunch periods. Ever since Noah had found the book shop and started delving into the short instructional stories, he felt different. He looked to be gaining more confidence with every adventure, and he felt more relaxed when walking around his peers in school. There had been no sightings of Mike Nason, his biggest enemy, since he had started reading. He shook his head. All just a coincidence. He’ll probably be back tomorrow. Meanwhile, all he got from the rest of the punk pack were a few dirty looks. Perhaps they lacked the courage to be jerks without their ringleader around. If this was a new dish served to him, then he would gladly accept it; it was like getting out of jail on parole.

  Wendy did most of the talking once again at lunch, but Noah could tell that she was making a conscious effort to allow Noah to speak every so often. She still owned the topic of conversation. So, it was agreed that Noah would walk to her house after school to help Wendy with some things around the junkyard. For most of the time that Wendy had been flapping her gums, Noah had been thinking about the next book and how he really just wanted to go to the book shop after school. But, he didn’t want to upset his only friend. She was nice enough to have hooked him up with the bike. Plus, she gave him money for working time, though it didn’t really seem like work to him. It was, more or less, a different kind of hanging out. And he enjoyed Wendy’s company and learning new things.

  “Hey. So, I need some help after school. You’re definitely coming over, right?”

  “Yes, Wendy. I have already confirmed twice. Would you like me to confirm again?”

  Even Wendy was surprised with the twinge of confidence that Noah now appeared to have. As the bell rang, the tables cleared and Noah used the bathroom by the cafeteria.

  As he was doing his business, Joe Dwyer and Greg Toole walked into the bathroom. He was aware of their presence immediately – his instincts had never failed him.

  “Hey. Look, Greg. It’s the little nerd. Hey, make sure you don’t lose those stupid glasses in the pisser, you dork!”

  “Hahaha. What a geek,” Dwyer chimed in.

  Noah would have immediately left the bathroom without washing his hands but he decided against it, allowing his courage to lead the way. He went over to the sink and let the water run hot, soaping his hands. The two jerks kept running their mouths, slinging words and sentences of hatred at him, but they didn’t attempt to physically pursue him. And, when they were done with their own business, they walked out of the bathroom, making mean gestures and laughing themselves out the door. The youth looked in the mirror and smiled; things were changing indeed.

  The bike ride home with Wendy would be nice for a change. He wouldn’t have to look over his shoulder or wait to be flanked by the crew of bullies that usually pursued him. It was little league season, and Dwyer, Nason, Toole, and the rest would be thusly occupied.

  While Noah did enjoy taking his time after school, he was operating on Wendy-time when the two-thirty bell rang. She dawdled in gathering her things. And, it was kind of amusing to anticipate what Wendy would bring in the form of transportation to and from the school. Sometimes she brought roller skates; another time she had brought a foot scooter. She had also brought different bicycles, skate boards, and long boards, and so it was no surprise that today she had brought a go-kart. She had hidden it in the bushes and thrown a camouflage tarp over it (it was a good hiding spot; some yews and junipers had grown tall around the far, right-side corner of the school, close to the bike rack, where Noah had locked his wheels).

  “Really? You brought a go-kart to school today? Does your dad know about this?”

  “Hey, this is my transportation for today, and no, he doesn’t know.”

  “That’s not even street legal Wendy. If a cop sees you with that thing in the street, you will get into trouble.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Just worry about yourself. Plus, I keep it on the sidewalks anyway.

  “Oh, that will help your cause.”

  The banter was starting to frustrate Wendy, and she removed the camouflage tarp and folded it up, stuffing it under her seat. She started the pull crank of the small motor mounted to the back of the machine. The motor was fine tuned and idled on the third pull.

  “Quick. Help me pull this front around.” She had parked the thing face first into the bushes, and the cart did not have a reverse gear – only forward and a brake. Noah had to drop his bike and commit to the objective. It took both to pull the front out of the bushes and point it in the right direction. Meanw
hile, Noah kept a watchful eye for anyone who may pose a threat to him. Wendy quickly took the lone seat in the buggy, put her goggles on, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and placed a leather cap on her head. He wasn’t sure if this was her attempt at Amelia Earhart, but Halloween was six months out and she sure did look the part.

  “C’mon. Let’s go!” She raised her voice above the motor.

  He rolled his eyes and followed her. Noah wasn’t the jealous type and was grateful for his bike, but he had to admit that a running go-kart was pretty cool. He tried his best to keep up, but his legs posed no challenge for the motorized cart blowing down the street sides. Luckily, the ride to Wendy’s was not too bad, and he arrived in fewer than ten minutes. Wendy slowed down as she got close to her home, allowing Noah to catch up so they could both enter the property together. This diverted some attention from Wendy and her go-kart. She knew her father would not like the fact that she had taken it to school, and she hoped the sight of Noah would serve as a distraction. Her dad wouldn’t harp on her too much with Noah around.

  “Well, isn’t that cute?” Earl glanced at the two while holding a large pipe wrench from inside the auto garage. Josh was nowhere to be found. She parked the cart over by the gate leading into the junkyard, out of the way. Noah was slow to follow but eventually parked his bike, nervous about the game Wendy was playing. Sure enough, the first question was directed toward him.

  “Noah, you were in on this idea?” Earl asked.

  Put on the spot, Noah answered unsteadily. “No, not exactly, sir.”

  “I didn’t think you were, son. Wendy, if I see you take that thing off this property again, you will lose it. And you’re grounded. Do you understand?”

  “I guess so, but there is nowhere to take it. Where should I drive it?”

  “I told you. If you can be responsible, you can drive it around the junkyard. There are almost five acres back there.”