by Greg Cox
“Hey!” Ezekiel yelped as a gloved hand slapped him in the face. “Watch it, you crazy … egghead! Do you want to fall and go boom?”
“Think that’s the general idea,” Stone said, grunting. “He’s raring to hatch!”
“No! This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.” Cassandra strained against the weight of the toppling egg man. Her feet skidded backward across the ground. “It … everything … can’t end like this. By every reasonable cosmological hypothesis, our universe still has billions of years left to go. This is too soon. We can’t let the whole cosmos die young—because of a stupid nursery rhyme!” She glanced up at Humpty. “No offense.”
“I’m trying!” Ezekiel was right beside her, shoulder to shoulder. “Not sure how long we can keep this up, though. Frankly, we could use all the king’s horses and all the king’s men at the moment!”
Flynn appreciated their strenuous efforts, but winced at the sight.
“Careful there!” he shouted. “Don’t crack the shell!”
“Easier said than done,” Stone said. “You try wrestling this thing!”
Not up to me anymore, Flynn thought. He turned to the Goose heirs, who were gaping at the bizarre scene. They huddled together, united by circumstances as well as blood.
“Oh my,” Mary said. “Am I seeing things?”
“I wish.” George shook his head. “Man, that is seriously messed up.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Gillian said before looking helplessly at Flynn and Baird. “I still don’t quite understand. What on Earth do you expect of us?”
“You said it yourself,” Flynn answered. “I need words straight from your mouth, from all three of you. You’re the legitimate heirs to the title of Mother Goose. You’re the only ones who can reverse this spell … by composing a new rhyme!”
Shock and disbelief registered on their faces.
“You can’t be serious,” Mary said. “I can’t perform actual magic. I’m just a small-town librarian.”
“I’m an academic,” Gillian said.
“And I’m just a rapper-slash-tree-trimmer,” George said. “You’ve got the wrong crew, dude.”
Flynn shook his head. “Not from what I’ve seen … I mean, heard. You can absolutely do this if you work together. Forget the Treaty. Forget the old dynastic rivalries that divided your ancestors.” He held out the reassembled spell book: Mother Goose’s Melodies, complete in one volume. “This book, the power, the legacy … it belongs to you three.”
Even if I temporarily usurped it when I wasn’t quite myself, he thought.
“So you say,” Gillian said uncertainly, “but still…”
“Listen to him, Gillian,” Stone encouraged her. “You know this stuff better than anyone. You’ve studied for this for your entire life. If anybody can do it, you can.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Gillian said. “I can’t deny it’s much needed at the moment.”
“That goes for you, too, Mary.” Ezekiel glanced back at her over his shoulder. “I hate to admit it, but Flynn usually knows what he’s talking about and, honestly, we could use some help here.”
“Manfully admitted, Mr. Jones,” Mary said. “And far be it for me to disagree.”
“And you, George … Bo-Peeps,” Cassandra said. “You’re a born rapper, remember? Rhyming is in your blood.”
“Damn straight it is!” He accepted the book from Flynn and held it out to his long-lost cousins and fellow heirs. “All right, ladies, let’s get our Goose on.”
He placed his right hand atop the book, as though being sworn in, and Mary and Gillian placed their hands over his. Magic flared as the embossed golden type on the book’s front cover took on a dazzling glow.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Gillian gasped. “Did we do that?”
“I do believe we did, dear,” Mary said, her eyes wide behind her glasses. “My husband is not going to believe any of this.”
“It’s just what I’m always saying,” George said. “Magic is out there. You just got to look for it!”
The spell book cracked open of its own accord. Startled, the heirs yanked their hands away, but the book remained levitating in the air between them. Its pages turned, past rhyme after rhyme, until it reached Humpty Dumpty. Flowing ink rearranged the type on the page, creating an empty space at the bottom, just waiting to be filled with new verses.
“Well, that’s not intimidating at all,” Gillian said.
“No time for rhymer’s block.” Flynn fidgeted restlessly behind them, peering over one shoulder after another. “The clock is ticking … and the egg is hatching.”
Glancing over at the wall, he saw that, despite the other Librarians’ exertions, cracks were appearing in Humpy Dumpty’s shell. The light of a new day—and a new Creation—seeped through the cracks, growing brighter by the second. Humpty’s eyes took on a manic gleam. He grinned gleefully. The spreading cracks scarred his face, making him look like the Egg of Frankenstein. He was about as cute as doomsday.
“He’s cracking open!” Cassandra shouted. “We can’t stop it!”
Baird scanned Humpty with a new and improved magic detector, which was beeping like a Geiger counter on top of a nuclear test ground. Her eyes widened in alarm at the readings she was getting.
“Anytime now, people!” she prompted.
George nodded. “You heard the lady. Let’s freestyle the hell out of this egg-pocalypse!”
He started them off:
“Humpty Dumpty, stay in your shell,” he rapped.
“Humpty Dumpty, all will be well,” Mary continued the rhyme.
“Sleep deep and long, all night and all day,” Gillian added.
The words wrote themselves on the page as they were spoken. The trio looked at each other in amazement as the final verse came to them all in unison:
“Rest safe on your wall until Judgment Day!”
The verses lit up on the page, glowing brighter than the dawn, before fading away. A hush fell over the park. The wild winds abated, the thunder muted, swirling leaves settled back onto the trees, flailing trees fell still and silent. The universe stayed right where it was, basking in the morning light. Birdsong started up, welcoming a new day.
No Big Bang? Flynn thought. That’s encouraging.
He looked at Humpty Dumpty. As hoped, the mannequin was no longer flailing or cracking. Its weathered white shell had been restored, as was its blandly smiling, immobile expression. It sat securely on the wall just as it had back in the good old days, as it did in the snapshot from his childhood. Humpty’s right hand was raised again, as though waving to him from the past.
Flynn’s throat tightened a little.
“Is that it?” Mary asked. “Did we do it?”
“Naturally.” Flynn suppressed a sigh of relief. “Never doubted it for a minute.”
Baird scanned Humpty with her detector just to be sure. “No more magical energy spikes,” she reported. “All clear. You can stand down, folks.”
The other Librarians let go of Humpty and cautiously stepped away from the figure, as though afraid that it might be playing possum, but Humpty wasn’t going anywhere, not anymore.
“Whew,” Stone said, wiping his brow. “That was one tough egg.”
“Eh.” Ezekiel shrugged. “I wasn’t worried.”
“Yeah, right.” Stone smirked at his friend. “Tell me another.”
Cassandra looked worriedly at the sky. “What about the stars? Is the universe still contracting with Humpty Dumpty put together again?”
“Nope.” Flynn said with confidence, walking over to the wall. “The spell has been broken. That isn’t the World Egg anymore—or, to be more precise, it doesn’t represent the World Egg anymore. It’s just a forgotten old mannequin.” He rapped it with his knuckles to prove his point. “Ouch, that’s harder than it looks.”
Baird joined him by the figure. “Just the same, we should probably cart Humpty off to the Library, wall and all. Why take chances?�
��
“A reasonable precaution,” Flynn agreed. “It’s not like we don’t have the space.”
“Good job, everyone,” Baird said. “Mission accomplished. And thanks for the timely assist,” she added, addressing the Goose trio. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”
“But what about that other Mother Goose?” Mary asked, holding on to the spell book for the others. “Isn’t she still on the loose?”
Flynn gulped and glanced down at his shoes, unsure how to respond. Mother Goose’s reign of nursery-rhyme terror weighed on his conscience, even though he wasn’t really to blame.
It could have happened to anyone, he thought, assuming they were messing with a magical peace treaty from a hundred years ago.…
“You don’t have to worry about her anymore,” Baird said diplomatically. “She’s been … dealt with.”
“But how?” George asked. “What happened to her?”
“And who was she anyway?” Gillian asked. “Another distant relative … and heir to the title?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Baird assured them. “She was an imposter, a pretender, but she’s out of the picture now.”
“How so?” Mary persisted. “Where is—?”
“I don’t think we need to get into that right now,” Flynn said.
26
Oregon
“Are you quite certain about this?” Jenkins asked.
“Absolutely.” Mary turned the restored spell book over to Jenkins, while George and Gillian looked on, nodding in agreement. The Goose heirs, along with the Librarians and their Guardian, had returned to the Annex after concluding their business at Mother Goose’s Magic Garden. “We talked it over, the three of us, and concluded that it would be a shame to split the book up again after going to so much trouble to recover the hidden pieces.” She sighed wistfully as she let go of the book. “And as much as I would personally love to add this precious volume to my own library back home, I suspect it will be somewhat safer in yours.”
“Same with my college,” Gillian said.
“And my apartment,” George joked, “which isn’t exactly Fort Knox.”
Jenkins accepted the book with all due dignity. “Rest assured that it will be safe in our hands,” he said, “and that we fully appreciate the honor and responsibility you’re entrusting to us.”
“And don’t you forget that, Mr. Jenkins.” Mary stepped back, relieved of her burden, and took a moment to admire the Annex’s full shelves and old-fashioned card catalogs. “You do have quite a nice library here, but I don’t suppose you offer story time for the kiddies?”
“Heaven forbid.” Jenkins shuddered at the very idea before looking pointedly at the Librarians. “I have enough unruly youngsters on my hands.”
Mary shrugged. “Your loss.”
With the final disposition of Mother Goose’s Melodies settled, the Librarians and their charges milled about in the Annex, celebrating their last-minute rescue of everything under the sun. Cradling the long-lost “ghost volume” in the crook of his arm, Jenkins was equally relieved that a new Creation had been postponed indefinitely. As far as he was concerned, there was still considerable work to be done when it came to tidying up the current model, even if the goose, the lion, and the unicorn were now back to normal and residing peacefully in their respective stalls, while Arthur’s Crown was back where it belonged as well.
All’s well that ends well, he thought, for now.
He looked forward to shelving Mother Goose’s Melodies in the appropriate section. Perhaps alongside The Secret Memoirs of Tom Thumb and Rip Van Winkle’s Dream Journal?
* * *
“Good job back there at the park,” Stone congratulated Gillian as they retreated to a secluded corner of the office that was still not as private as Stone would have liked. “Seems to me that saving the universe deserves a dinner at least, and maybe some drinks and dancing afterward?”
“Consider it a date.” She glanced back over her shoulder at the Magic Door of the Annex. “And given that handy portal of yours, you have no excuse for being late … unless, of course, you’re urgently needed in Atlantis or wherever.”
“Thought you didn’t believe in Atlantis,” he teased her.
“After what I’ve seen since we met, I’m ready to believe in everything from faeries to Brigadoon.”
“Funny you should mention faeries,” he began. “As it turns out—”
She placed a finger over his lips. “Save it for the date.”
* * *
“I was pleased to see you applying yourself at the wall,” Mary said to Ezekiel. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”
“Just another day doing the impossible,” Ezekiel said, as though it was no big deal. “And doing it with style.” He leaned against an overstuffed bookcase as he relished his latest amazing victory. “And who knew you were such a kick-ass librarian yourself?”
“Please,” she replied, “I was a librarian while you were still a naughty child shoplifting candy bars or whatever else you surely got up to. Still, I admit that this unlikely adventure has boosted my confidence somewhat, enough so that I’m thinking of writing down my own stories and trying to get them published. Maybe carry on the family tradition by becoming a children’s book author as well as a librarian … minus any sightless rodents, of course.”
“Go for it,” Ezekiel said. “Although I’ll wait for the movie version.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Young people these days…” She smiled at him nonetheless. “You take care of yourself, Ezekiel Jones, and try to stay out of trouble.”
He grinned back at her.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
* * *
Jenkins raised his voice to get the room’s attention.
“Mrs. Simon, Dr. Fell, Mr. Cole,” he addressed them from the navigational apparatus by the Magic Door. “At the risk of calling short these celebrations, the exit is primed and ready to go, per your instructions.”
“Looks like Bow Tie is giving us the bum’s rush,” George said to Cassandra. “Gotta jet, little lamb. Peace out.”
She hugged him good-bye. “You get down with your bad self, Bo-Peeps. And keep slammin’ your def phat flows. Represent!” She cringed at the words coming out of her mouth. “I really can’t pull that off, can I?”
“Stick to the brainy science girl talk,” he advised her. “It’s working for you.”
“Well, I like to think so.…”
Letting go of him, she escorted him toward the Magic Door, where the others were converging as well. “So I guess you’re heading back to Miami now?”
“Not just yet,” he said, joining Mary and Gillian before the door. “The three of us, we’re taking a detour to Boston first.”
“Boston?” Baird asked. She stood beside Flynn, holding his hand as though to keep him from running off again anytime soon.
We’ll see how long that works, Cassandra thought.
“One-time home of Elizabeth Goose,” Flynn deduced, figuring it out. “The last true Mother Goose.”
“Right on the money,” Gillian said. “After all of this, we thought we should make a pilgrimage to her grave and pay our respects … together.”
“Something of a family reunion,” Mary explained, “as well as a chance to get to know each other under slightly less tumultuous circumstances.”
“Just try to avoid igniting any new family feuds,” Jenkins cautioned. A tinge of melancholy entered his voice. “Trust me when I say that bonds of blood can break more catastrophically than most.”
“Not going to happen, man,” George said confidently. “You know what they say, nothing brings kin back together like saving the entire freaking world from one bad egg.”
“That’s what we thought in Caerleon,” Jenkins murmured softly before inhaling deeply and returning to the task at hand. “In any event, ladies, gentleman, I wish you all good fortune and a safe journey. May you carry on the illustrious
tradition of your forebears with both wisdom and imagination, jointly or separately as fate will have it.”
“And that goes for the rest of us,” Baird said. “Big time.”
Jenkins opened the door. Supernaturally white light spilled into the Annex.
“Brilliant,” Gillian said in a hushed tone. “Literally brilliant.”
George gestured toward the glowing doorway. “After you, ladies.”
“No.” Mary joined their hands, with her in the middle. “All at once.”
They stepped out the Magic Door together.
* * *
“Finally!” Jenkins said with visible relief. “With all due respect to our recent guests, I wish to remind you all again that this Annex, let alone the Library, is for Librarians only.” He tipped his head toward Baird. “And their esteemed Guardian, of course.”
Baird appreciated the nod, as well as his understandable concerns regarding the Library’s security. She had no intention of adopting an open-door policy at the Library, except under extreme circumstances. She preferred to run a tight ship, too.
“Roger that,” she said. “And don’t worry about it. After running around the globe trying to put out this Mother Goose fire, I doubt that any of us are up to diving into another crisis right away. We could use some time off from relic runs and impending doom.” She pulled Flynn closer to her. “And that goes for you, too, Librarian.”
“Fine with me,” he said. “Unless something comes up, that is.”
She gave the Clippings Book a warning look. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Amen to that.” Stone yawned and stretched. “I don’t know about the rest of you folks, but I figured we’re entitled to a day off … or three.”
“Not going to argue with you there, mate,” Ezekiel said. “I’ve been bouncing around so much I’m not even sure what day it is.”
“Sunday morning, 7:12 A.M., Pacific time,” Cassandra supplied. “Not that it really matters what time it is. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
“I’m oddly exhausted as well.” Flynn glanced down at his restored form as though he was still trying to wrap his head around his recent transformations. “So, I really turned into a goose … not a gander?”
