Toy Soldiers

by Keith LaHue

  Somewhere in Hollywood, James stared up at the now-dark skies again. The giant was gone. The enormous light had blinked off. Then the ambient light was gone. For the first time in his life, James thought he was losing his mind. He was terrified. He entered his apartment and found his way to his bed. Maybe this was all a dream.

  He knew better.

  13

  Davey had permission to be in the basement playing with the model. It was raining out and he didn't have anything else to do, so he was playing Cowboys and Indians in the old west section of Pangaea. He'd painted and melted into submission some regulation World War Two army men into the figures he used in the old west. They didn't look much like real Cowboys and Indians, more like mutations of humans. The guy lying down with the now removed machine gun was painted like a cowboy, but he didn't really look like one. Same went for the Indians.

  He had them positioned around the Grand Canyon area of Pangaea. His dad's only request was that he try not to break anything, and to remove the army men when he was done. Davey always cleaned up after playing. He was in the middle of a fierce battle when his mother called him from the top of the stairs. He dutifully stopped for the moment and answered her. Her voice sounded strange, he rushed up to see her.

  She was crying. In a choked and hushed voice, she told him that there had been an accident and his dad was in the hospital. Davey could tell by the sound of her voice that it was serious. She'd had called a cab to take them to the hospital. She said she just couldn't drive right now, and that Davey had to get ready in a hurry, they were going.

  Davey rushed to get his coat and was ready within minutes. His mother was on the phone with Grandma telling her the news. From outside he heard the cab come up, and then it honked its horn. Marigold quickly finished up the conversation. She grabbed Davey by the hand and the two of them rushed outside to the cab.

  Once they were at the hospital, a doctor came out and gave them the grim news that David Sr.'s condition was grave, and he was in surgery right now. Marigold began to cry. She asked the doctor what the prognosis was, and the doctor simply shook his head and said he didn't know. It could go either way. They couldn't see him until he was out of surgery, then they would know more.

  Marigold took a seat in the waiting room with Davey. It was the middle of the day on a Saturday. Dave Sr. had been out on routine errands (including picking up supplies for the Great Wall) when another car had run a red light and plowed into the driver's side of his dad's car. A T-bone his mother had said.

  "Davey you have to be strong."

  "I will be mom." He took her hand. "And I'll make sure nothing happens to you too." Davey's own eyes were wet now, but he was still in control.

  "You know your dad loves you very much. So do I."

  "I know mom. I'm scared, but somehow I know he'll be okay." Davey had little experience with death, he'd lost his dog when he was seven, but that was it in the death department. His parents had explained it to him then, but he was still young enough that he didn't have a solid grasp of the finality of death, and that it was something that all people face, in their own time.

  "The doctor said it's serious. He may not be okay."

  "You mean he might die?"

  "Yes. He might."

  "I don't want him to die," Davey was beginning to cry himself now. His mother held him close. "He may be okay honey, we just have to wait."

  "How long?" asked Davey.

  "I don't know little one. Sit on my lap. We'll wait together"

  The shadows drew shapes on the floor and walls of the waiting room. Davey stayed with his mother, sometimes on her lap, sometimes not. He would cry, then she would, and then they would both stop. Davey had a headache. He wanted to see his dad, to know that they would play in the basement again, and finish building the Great Wall.

  After a long time, the doctor came into the room. Marigold rushed to him with Davey in tow. He ushered them back into another room in the back. It smelled funny in here Davey thought. Like the rubbing alcohol his dad used to clean parts of the model.

  "He's going to be okay," said the doctor. His mother collapsed into tears again. "He's broken several bones, and his skull was fractured. A piece of bone was pressing into his brain. We removed it, which was the main problem that put you through such a long wait. We didn't know if it would kill him or not." The doctor smiled, putting Marigold at ease. "The good news is that while it will take him some time to recover, he will recover, and be as good as new. We had to fashion a small metal plate to replace the part of the skull that was lost. And the bones on his left side - they were a mess, but we've managed to put him back together. Would you like to see him? He's asleep, and I don't want you to wake him, but a can manage a short visit if you'd like."

  "Yes, I want to see my husband. And I'm sure Davey wants to see his father too."

  "He's in his room now. Follow me," said the doctor. They followed him through a labyrinth of corridors, all looking alike until they came to his room. "I'll leave you alone with him for a minute, but this is still Intensive Care, so you can't stay long."

  "I just want to hold his hand," said Mary.

  "Better make it his right hand. His left arm is in traction." The doctor led them into the room and then left. There was a nurse there, the doctor told the nurse that this was family, and they could be here for fifteen minutes.

  Davey was more scared now than he had been in the waiting room. His dad was hooked up to all sorts of strange machines. He had tubes coming out of him everywhere. His eyes were closed as if he was dead. The heart monitor, which Davey sort of recognized from TV was still running, so part of him knew that his dad wasn't dead. His mother lifted her husband's hand slightly and held it.

  "Oh Dave, please be okay," she said quietly. Davey moved to the side of the bed she was on, and placed his hand over hers, touching his father as well. "He'll be okay mom, the doctor said so."

  "I know Davey; it's just hard for me to see him this way. It must be hard for you too."

  "It is mom," then he started to cry again too. "But the doctor said he'll be okay and that's what I want to believe."

  "Me too Davey, me too."

  They stood there, the nurse went about some business, giving him medicine through the IV, and then she left them for a few minutes. Davey and his mom continued to hold his good hand, the one that wasn't up in the air connected to wires.

  The nurse came back into the room and told them that they'd have to leave now. Dave Sr. hadn't woken up at all; the nurse said it was the medication. They could come back tomorrow, and he might be awake. She assured them that they would all do their best to make sure he was just fine. She'd seen a lot worse patients come through in the end. She gave them a bleak smile as they left.

  Outside the hospital, they waited for the taxi the front desk had called for them.

  "Well, Davey, what do you say to some burgers and fries? I'm not cooking tonight, it's too late and I'm starving." Neither one of them had thought about food, they'd been there for almost twelve hours. It was full dark outside.

  "That sounds swell mom."

  "We'll get ice cream after." She managed a small smile. Marigold thought that in their eleven-year marriage, this was one of the few times she and her husband would be apart for any length of time.

  The cab arrived and they got in, Mary told the driver to drop them off at the burger place down the street from where they lived. Ice Cream was next door, and then they could walk home. On the way, they talked about Dave Sr. and how much they both loved him. Davey said it would be fun when his dad got well, and they could play in the basement again. Marigold laughed at this, a genuine laugh.

  "Your father was nearly killed, and all you can think about is that model."

  "We have fun with it. You know that." He was beginning to feel closer to normal now.

  "Well while he's gone, you are not to make any changes. You know that don't you?"

  "I would never do that. I know better. Dad would paddle me if I did
."

  They arrived at the burger place near home, and they got out. Mary paid the driver and gave him a generous tip. He replied that he hoped everything would be okay. She thanked him and he left.

  Both of their spirits picked up when they entered the fast food place, with its gaily colored walls, and the clown statue that stood near the door. They ordered, picked up the food and sat down. They ate hungrily, both famished.

  When they finished, they threw the trash out and then crossed the parking lot to the ice cream place. Davey ordered a large banana split, and to his surprise, his mother did too. She was usually a one scoop in a cup person.

  "You know your dad and I used to come here when we were teenagers."

  "You mean in the olden days?"

  His mother laughed. "I'm not that old. And neither is your dad!"

  "Well, it was still a long time ago."

  "You'd be surprised at how fast it goes, Davey. One minute you're only eight years old, and then you're an old man."

  "Oh, mom. That's so sad." He giggled. "I'd hate to be an old man like dad."

  "Why? He still has fun playing with you. So he never really got old. He's quite young at heart. You play with that model with him all the time. All the time he can spare, and that I'll let him. Never forget it's the women who control the family."

  "I'll be sure and tell dad that."

  "He knows. No need to remind him."

  Sitting there in silence, a warm glow suffused them. They had lived through the nightmare of the day, and tomorrow they would go back to the hospital and see their beloved father and husband. Hopefully, they could even talk to him. There hadn't been much gadgetry around his mouth.

  They finished up their banana splits and walked home. The night was cold and they hadn't brought jackets. Davey shivered some. Soon they were home, so strange to be arriving home with no lights on. They had been in a hurry. Davey's mom rushed to get him to bed, she had phone calls to make, to let everyone in the family know that Dave Sr. was going to be okay.

  Davey let sleep take him. He never remembered the giant army men he had left littered around the old west. In Pangaea, things were happening that had never happened before.

  14

  Dave Sr. hadn't intentionally imbued Pangaea with magic. Well, maybe a little. It had happened slowly, over the time that he and Davey had spent together, the long hours of mostly tedium spent in its creation. Indeed, Pangaea had come alive only through the power of love that was shared by father and son, working on a task that had been created simply for the love of it. It was magic as a result.

  In the old west section, which existed solely for the magnificence of the Grand Canyon, the inhabitants, entirely Indians, we're looking up at the enormous figures that towered above them. The Indians thought them to be crudely shaped and painted in strange ways. Nowhere in the old west section did the US Cavalry exist. This was a time before the rape of the Indian culture.

  The Indians were unaware of any other beings. Although they were adjacent to Manhattan, like the inhabitants of that city, if they encroached on the perimeter of their section, they'd find themselves back within the confines of the Grand Canyon area.

  Now, these giant beings were trampling the area. They didn't seem to be doing any real damage, but they did leave large footprints. It was easy to stay out of their way, which they of course did. The magic that gave them life was a cumulative kind of magic. One needed to stay put in order for the full effect to take place. Seeing as the army men were only occasional visitors, and were generally taken away after (what?) Davey was done playing, they didn't usually come to life.

  The Indians wondered if they were being visited by the gods. They'd seen the much larger beings before, but just glimpses of them. They hadn't stayed this long. They came and went, and the inhabitants thought that while they may be gods, they didn't generally interfere with the well being of the Indians. The old west was the first section built, thus it had given rise to a population first. Everything would happen in its own time. They had no sense of having been created. They had always existed, and would always continue to exist.

  The toy soldiers, so haphazardly painted and reshaped, didn't know what to make of their sudden consciousness. Confused and without direction, they stumbled around. The land they stood on was unusual to them. The giant ditch present might prove a good place to hide if they (the Germans) should show up. They regarded their garb as some kind of undercover operation. The only part of the World War Two theaters that had this kind of terrain was in Africa, where the desert rat reined hell during the occupation. The last memory that the soldiers had was of being in France. They'd liberated the country and were on the march into Germany.

  They knew they would win. It was hard-wired into them, failure didn't occur to them. Neither did death. Since they had never been alive before, they couldn't die. They could cease to exist and go back to wherever they had been before simple coming into being in this strange place.

  "Sergeant, what are our orders?" cried a PFC named (?). Since they had just been "born" they had no memories to speak of, and no names they could associate with. They did have rank.

  "Fan out, keep your eyes open. We're going to that giant trench over there. Hunker down and wait for reinforcements. Keep quiet and be on the lookout.

  The soldiers, who had been scattered over the old west all headed to the Grand Canyon. The Indians watched the slow progression of the giants into the Canyon. Some of them lost their footing and fell into it. Eventually, they all ended up in there, covering the bottom of the canyon. The Indian's, happy that these creatures had left them alone, looked on with amusement. Night came and they retreated to their dwellings.

  The day after David Sr. had met with fate (but not the final fate they all had), Davey and his mom were bundling up and headed to the hospital when Davey suddenly remembered the model and leaving the army men scattered around it. His mother was in the kitchen waiting. He yelled out from the top of the basement stairs that he'd be right there. He was nearly paralyzed with fear as he thought of the havoc the army men could have on the old west. He ran down the stairs, and over to the old west section.

  Nothing was where he had left it. All but one of the toy soldiers were piled into the Grand Canyon. All but one. He was standing on the Brooklyn Bridge. They had all moved, and Davey knew that no one had been down there since him.

  In that moment what he had known for a year sunk into him. Pangaea was magic. And while he had known that there were people living there, now he had proof. He pondered whether or not he should tell anyone. He knew no one would believe him. He decided to keep his mouth shut about it for the time being. Maybe he'd tell his dad when he was better. He plucked the strangely attired army man from the Brooklyn Bridge and hurried upstairs.

  Earlier, a crowd that included Dizzy and Jimmy the Quick were all standing on the Manhattan side of the bridge, looking up at the slowly moving giant standing in the middle of the bridge. Traffic had stopped. Jimmy saw the white repeating Volvo stopped at the base. He walked over to it, wanting to talk to the driver.

  When he got there, he found that the driver had abandoned his car. Maybe in terror, maybe he hadn't existed, to begin with. In the time Jimmy had been watching the bridge, he hadn't been able to get a close enough look at the Volvo to determine if there had indeed been a driver. He'd assumed there was.

  Now he knew that nothing in the world could be taken for granted. He hadn't put in a day at the stock exchange for who knew how long. He had slept with Sadie every night, having given up the coke and booze. Nothing he did made any difference.

  He had tried to cross the bridge again with the same results. Then he had walked all over the city. The Harlem River, which formed the northern boundary of the island couldn't be crossed on any of the myriad bridges that connected it to Manhattan proper. Did Harlem even exist? He'd tried the George Washington Bridge to get to New Jersey. Though he could swear he'd been in Jersey before, once he got to about the middle of the bridg
e, he'd find himself back at the beginning. Ditto for the tunnels.

  There was no way off the island. Now there was a giant on the Brooklyn Bridge. It was looking down at them with a confused countenance. It looked like it was struggling to move farther into Manhattan. It appeared that it was blocked, probably by the same force that had prevented Jimmy from crossing the other way.

  It pushed and pushed, then without warning; a giant hand appeared and plucked it away. Both the giant and the hand disappeared from view. Jimmy stood there, fascinated. The crowd dispersed. Jimmy stood there for a moment, then left, heading into little Italy. On the way, he stopped at a newsstand and picked a paper. It had the same headline as yesterday and the day before. He threw it away.

  He was going to have lunch in his favorite Italian restaurant. Sal was there and approached him as he sat a table with the classic red and white checkered tablecloth.

  "Hey Sal, what did you think of the giant on the bridge?"

  "What are you talking about? I heard no such news."

  "I was just there, at the Brooklyn Bridge. There was a giant man standing on the bridge, and then an even bigger hand came down and took him away. No one told you?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  Jimmy decided to switch tactics. "Hey Sal, when was the last time you were in Brooklyn."

  "What do you mean? You know I live there."

  "So you were there this morning? Before you crossed the bridge and came to work?"

  "Of course. Look, are you going to order? I mean, it's a little early in the day for someone to have been drinking, but you're talking crazy."

  "I'll have a sausage sub, Sal."

  Sal disappeared into the back.

  So there was only one other person that knew or suspected that reality was not what it seemed. Dizzy the junkie. Unless Dizzy had chalked it all up to heroin. Jimmy the Quick was going to find him. He'd be in the park. He had taken a break from slamming dope long enough to see the sight on the bridge though. Still, it was a sure bet that he'd be scoring dope. He had looked like he was jonesing. Jimmy woke up every day with four hundred and fifty-six dollars and change in his pocket, regardless of what he spent the day before. He had a wallet full of credit cards too. He finished up his sub, paid and left. He gave Sal a one-hundred-dollar tip. Why not, the money always came back. And the only other thing he had to do today was get Dizzy fixed up. He had questions for him.