by Keith LaHue
"Donna? Where are we?"
"Beats me. I've never been out here...I think we’re..."
"But you've been here longer than me. In all that time you've never driven this stretch of highway?"
"Well, I must have. I've driven to..." her voice softened to a whisper. "Vegas."
"It looks like the fucking world ends ahead." He laid off the gas, reducing his speed to normal.
"James I'm scared. Let's go back."
"No. I need to know what's up there."
"Please James...." Her voice cut off abruptly. Suddenly they were back in familiar territory. They were just out of the Malibu canyons, not too far from Donna's house.
James slammed on the breaks, bringing them to a halt.
"This is near where we started. We're not far from your house. This isn't possible. We didn't go in a circle. And look, the mountains are back. We had been looking into some kind of a void, nothingness."
"I've had enough. Let's go back to the party."
"Okay. I can let it rest." He maneuvered the car back to her place, and after navigating the maze of guest cars, parked the car in the garage where they had started.
They got out of the car. James looked at her solemnly.
"It was a great party. But I'll need to be leaving now." Donna picked up something in his voice.
"You're not going to let it go, are you? What we saw. Or didn't see."
"No, I'm not. There's something suspicious going on here, and I'm going to find out what."
Without warning, it was night. There was no setting sun in the west; the light was just suddenly gone. He looked into Donna's frightened eyes.
"Even notice that? The night just comes. The sun never sets. Your place overlooks the ocean. Have you ever seen the sun set into it?
"Well, well, of....of course."
"You're lying."
"Come back into the party. It'll really heat up now that the sun has set."
"But it didn't set. It was just snuffed out. In fact, have you ever even seen the sun? I haven't. It's always just ambient light. Then it's dark."
"Oh don't be silly. It's just that with all the smog and clouds...."
"I'll see you later Donna. I've got some things to do."
"Be careful."
"I will, and you've got guests."
He left her standing in the darkened garage.
10
David Sr. arrived home late Sunday morning as expected. Marigold greeted him at the door with a kiss. She asked how the trip was; he said it was boring as usual. It had been a convention of accountants and had been as dull as the actual job was. It paid the bills. And then some. Davey came running into the kitchen as soon as he heard his dad's voice. David Sr. picked him up off his feet and gave him a big hug before setting him down.
"Did you stay away from the model?"
"I didn't touch it." His eyes were evasive.
"Davey?"
"Oh Dave, he had one of his friends over and they just looked at it. They didn't hurt it. I made sure of it."
"Well, I guess that's okay then."
"I just had to show Karl. He was crazy about it."
"What do you say we work on China after lunch?"
"That sounds swell dad!"
"Okay then, it's a deal. Did you do your homework?"
"It was done on Friday, right after dinner."
"That's right."
Mary put soup and sandwiches on the table a little bit after noon, and "the boys" as she affectionately referred to them as ate up. She wasn't done removing the dishes before the two of them were in the basement.
Dave Sr. looked over the diorama. There was something different, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He looked over New York, Los Angeles and many of the other cities. Nothing there. Then he saw it. Part of the Great Wall of China was further along than he had left it.
"Davey? Did you add on to the Great Wall? Just tell me, I won't be mad."
"No dad, we just looked at it that one time. Mom wouldn't let me down here, even when she was doing more laundry."
"Well, it's changed. It's farther along than it was when I left it." Dave Sr. knew in his heart the reason for the additional construction. The spell was working on its own. He’d started it up, and left it running over the weekend. He supposed for Davey, it would add to the mystery.
"Maybe the Chinese worked on it."
"You know that's not possible. I haven't built Beijing yet," Dave said, playing along. They both laughed, with Davey pointing out that there must have been peasants that worked and lived in the countryside.
"Well whoever did it; they did a bang up job. It's as good as I could have done." There was something sinister lurking in his mind. It really was as good as he could have done it. He'd let it all run while he was gone. Damn. Which ruled out Davey. He was only eight years old, and while he possessed good fundamental modeling skills, Dave still had to help him with his little car models sometimes when he got stuck. He couldn't have added on to the Great Wall. So who did? Was he wrong in thinking he had left it less finished than it was?
He looked over the rest of the model with a more discerning eye. In New York, he thought that the Brooklyn Bridge looked like it progressed a little further into what would have been Brooklyn had he built it. The Grand Canyon was adjacent to that part of the city. He had only built Manhattan. He'd not done the other burrows.
In Los Angeles, several of the miniature cars looked like they had moved. The cars were so small he'd given up on creating very many of them. They were so small you couldn't really see them. Yet there was one on the Hollywood freeway that looked off. It was impossible for them to move, they were glued down. With contact cement at that. Even if Davey had played with the model, he couldn't have moved anything. He believed his son when he told him that he and his friend had just looked.
Then there was the Great Wall. He walked to the small desk he had near the laundry machines and looked at the computer draft of the wall and the terrain it snaked its way across China on. He'd left a note on the draft indicating where he'd stopped. He brought it back to the model, using a magnifying glass to look at the portion he suspected was further along than it should have been.
There had been slightly over three inches added. It wasn't much, but it was something.
In the part of the tableau, China was built upon, the peasants building the great wall that had they had been ordered to build looked up at the sudden appearance of the giant head that had come into view above them. Terrified, they stopped working and began to pray. This must be a sign, portents of evil indicating that what they were doing by building the wall had angered some gigantic race. They could tell the eyes were human. Then it suddenly disappeared. They were exhausted from first the work, then the terrifying apparition of a head. The rumors that this was the way their leader looked in on them while they worked was a little much for most of them to believe. They might be peasants in the process of being worked to death, that didn't mean they were stupid.
Dave looked at it again, over and over. Davey had slipped upstairs to his mom while his dad's current obsession continued. Gradually Dave had to accept that he had done the work himself, through the spell and then forgotten about letting the spell run. He had failed to update his notes, as he had been gone. There was no other explanation.
That night, lying in bed and awaiting sleep, young David pondered the model. In the past, he had viewed the inhabitants as little more than additional toys for him to play with. Gradually he was coming to view them as living, breathing beings that deserved more than to be lorded over by a giant human. He resolved to be kind, and help them when he could. He didn't know for sure if they were aware of him or his dad, or really anything about them. The fact that they had continued building The Great Wall during his father's absence solidified his belief that they existed. The only thing that remained to be seen was if the little people knew of his existence. He was going to find out, one way or the other. He had to know. He had to have proof.
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11
Dizzy almost ran into Jimmy the Quick. He was stoned out of his mind and hadn't been paying attention to where he was going. Jimmy and he were standing on the Manhattan side of the Brooklyn Bridge. "Sorry man," mumbled Dizzy. Jimmy looked over him and thought that in another life that Dizzy could have been him. He saw the tracks on him and thought of the hole he'd burned in his septum. They each had their vices.
The light was dim, and neither one of them knew what time it was. Jimmy had come here with a purpose. He was going to cross the bridge. He sized up Dizzy before he spoke.
"Have you ever been across the bridge?"
"What the fuck would I go to Brooklyn for?" He looked like he was ready to fall over. Jimmy thought he could use this to his advantage.
"I want you to cross the bridge with me."
"But the traffic...." There was a steady stream of cars, cabs, and buses that came and went. Jimmy stopped to look at the pattern that he saw emerging. There was a white Volvo. He memorized the plate number, GPM193. New York plates. He looked at his watch. "There's a pedestrian path you idiot. Look, I'll pay you. I need you to help me with an experiment." Dizzy looked at him like he was crazy. "You're going to do an experiment on the fucking bridge?"
"Not exactly on the bridge. Are you in our out? I'll pay you fifty bucks." Dizzy lived up to his name and swayed, almost falling. "Fuck yeah I'm in. What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to cross with me. But go ahead of me, by about thirty feet. I need to keep an eye on our progress so move slowly. Got it?" Just then the white Volvo appeared again. New York plates GPM193. And it was on the Manhattan side headed into Brooklyn. He hadn't seen it come back across from Brooklyn. Curious he thought.
He didn't think there was anything on the other side. He didn't even know for certain how far the bridge spanned the East River.
"Start moving," he said to Dizzy. Dizzy stopped. I want my money.
"You'll get it when you're done. Got it?"
"Alright alright," he slurred. He planned on staying fucked up for a long time. He moved onto the pedestrian walkway. Jimmy the Quick waited until he was ahead of him and then began crossing as well. He saw the white Volvo again. Same plates. They walked for some time. Jimmy could see the East River below. They crept along slowly, Jimmy didn't think Dizzy could move much faster if he tried. They were nearing the middle now. Continuing on, Dizzy was getting too far ahead of him. He was about to yell out when Dizzy disappeared. So did the cars, they looked like they drove into some kind of fog. He inched his way forward, determined. Further, he went. The fog was right in front of him. He'd done this before when he was stoned and it hadn't killed him, so he went into the fog.
Suddenly he was standing on the Manhattan side of the bridge. Dizzy was leaning over the rail, vomiting. When he finished, he looked up at Jimmy. "It doesn't fuckin' go anywhere. I want my money. The white Volvo passed them. Jimmy fumbled with his wallet; he was a little disoriented himself. He pulled a fifty out and handed it to Dizzy.
"Go. I'm done with you."
"What do you think I am? A piece of trash?"
"I think you're a fine upstanding young man. I bet there's a place in Central Park where another fine upstanding young man is waiting to meet you."
Dizzy snatched the money from Jimmy's hand and faded into the crowd. Jimmy ignored him.
He sat there all day, watching the traffic on the bridge. It had a twenty-three-minute cycle, more or less. Always the same progression of cars, buses, you name it. There must be a way across. Bridges didn't just fade into nowhere. Had he ever been off of Manhattan Island? He didn't think so. He had been born in Connecticut. He tried to recall his memories of his youth. They were isolated and fragmentary. In his mind's eye, he saw very little variation in his memory. There was a tenth birthday party his parents had thrown for him. He saw himself blowing out candles on a white cake. When he tried to focus on his parents or one of the party goers, it hurt his head. He found that he was unable to accurately describe anyone in the one scene that he played over in his head.
The white Volvo passed again. It was time to go home. There were no visual cues that night was falling. When he looked at the sun, he found that it really wasn't there. There was just light from above, and now it was fading. Should he get some coke? Just forget what he had discovered? He had missed work. Somehow he didn't think anyone would notice. He could walk in tomorrow and no one would say a word. He knew this.
Sadie was there when he arrived home. She was cutting up some coke on the usual mirror. She was about one hour into the "night".
It was always the same, wasn't it? His actions had no bearing on anything. Sadie offered him some coke. He declined. She just went about her business, ignoring him. In reality, she had always ignored him.
12
James looked at the Hollywood sign. How long had he been here? He had blurred images of New York, and the Brooklyn Bridge, in his head. He knew it from pictures, he didn't recall if he had ever been there or not.
There was a lot he didn't recall. How long had he been in Hollywood? Why couldn't he remember vast areas of town? Last night he'd been up to the Observatory. He'd looked down at the lights of the city. They stopped abruptly at what he thought was supposed to be Long Beach. Someone had told him once that you could spot it because they used a different kind of lights that were yellow. They weren't there. He could make out the coastline, and then there was nothing where the far suburbs, and into where Orange County was supposed to be.
He had driven into the San Fernando Valley today. When he tried to go north of there, he would find himself suddenly back at the beginning. It happened no matter what variation of the route he took. He was in southern California and he couldn't get to the desert.
Fear was beginning to set it. Was he insane? He had no explanation for anything. He got into his car and made his way back to his small apartment. He was between roles (and hadn't he been between roles a long time?) so he had the luxury of time. Time to waste on these fruitless endeavors. He was hell bound on getting to the desert. Or anywhere that wasn't someplace he already knew.
All of the territory he'd actually been in was there obviously, but the surrounding parts were non-existent. Darkness fell. He no longer thought of it as "Night" it was more like the absence of day. And the one thing that was different about days was the quality of light. Sometimes it was dusk or dawn all the time, only with no sun to focus on. Other time it was bright, the way California was supposed to be.
Then there were the oddities of sudden light in the middle of the night. Sometimes it lasted for hours, other times it was a matter of minutes. He thought it strange that no one ever noticed or questioned it. It happened all the time and everyone ignored it.
When was the last time he had been out of California? He drew a blank. There was this odd feeling that he'd been a child (somewhere? where?) and had dreamed of running away to California and becoming a movie star. Well, that was something to go on, but not much.
It was full night now. He thought about turning in and letting all the craziness in his head give way to unconsciousness.
Suddenly there was bright light streaming in through the windowpane. He went outside. There was a huge ball of white light, not the yellow of the sun, moving back and forth in the sky. It was more focused than the "sun". It swept over him and onto the driveway. Then he saw beyond the light. There was a face in the sky. A gigantic face of a man. James was terrified. He just stood and watched, frozen in place.
Dave didn't usually come down into the basement this late at night. He gotten tied up at work, and as such, there had been no work on Pangaea today. Davey said he hadn't been down here, as he had a bunch of homework to do. He and his mom were using multiplication flash cards in the kitchen. Dave was looking for changes in the position of the cars. In the Hollywood area, he'd placed a lousy imitation of a limousine. He located it, it had moved from the Sunset Strip to the Malibu area. On its own. It was a tiny replica. Davey probably h
adn't even noticed it. His son was most interested in whatever the new phase was, in this case, the Great Wall, or the Old West section previously. He liked to play Cowboys and Indians. More than once he'd caught Davey with his, by comparison, huge army men that he'd painted, shaped and molded into fake looking characters from the old west. They were grotesquely large for the diorama. Still, he let his son have his fun. After all, that's what this was for. It was better that Davey didn't use the toy soldiers for war anyway.
So how had the limousine moved? He went over the area with his flashlight, bathing various areas of "Los Angeles" in bright light. He was looking for any sign that anything else had changed. There was another car that had moved. Damn it, these things were glued down! How the hell had Davey (and it had to be him) moved them without ripping up part of the street they were glued on to? There was no sign of any damage, just the vehicles that had moved. He reached for the car to put it back in its proper place and found that it was glued down in its new spot. What the hell was going on?
There were scant few cars in the city, he'd given up on putting them in because he thought they made the cityscape look crowded, and detracted from the detail. So there were maybe a few dozen in a city that in reality had millions. He switched the flashlight off, climbed the stairs and turned off the overhead lights. He'd have to talk to Davey about this, although he believed his son when he'd said he didn't change anything.
