by Dawn Napier
Ella tried the doorknob, but it didn’t move. There was no latch or hole in the knob to indicate a lock, but the knob rattled uselessly in her hand and would not turn. She slammed her palm against the door. "Damn!"
There was an answering thump inside. "She is in there!" Ella cried. She looked down at her grimy skirt and pale, skinny limbs. "But I can't rescue her like this." Ella the Cinder Girl was a delicate princess, nobody's idea of a hero.
"Yarr, ye be needin' a bit more muscle in yer bustle," Jack agreed.
Ella would not do. So who would? Someone strong enough to break down the door, but also someone clever enough to lead them to safety afterwards. She had little doubt that once she was reunited with her sister, something very bad would be on the way. She needed to be prepared for anything.
And as soon as she completed the thought, she knew the answer.
"Kyria," she announced. "Warrior Elf of the Wolf Clan."
Jack grinned, and his teeth were pointed and enormous. But she wasn't afraid, because Jack Benimble had become Sargent Fang, Kyria's loyal sidekick. The enormous grey wolf sat at attention and waited for Kyria's instructions.
Kyria looked down at herself and smiled. Now this was more like it. Gleaming chain mail, crimson cloak, and a hand axe that could cut through anything but diamond. She touched her ear, and as expected it tapered upward in a point. If she looked into a mirror, she would see golden-brown eyes like those of a lion and blonde hair braided tightly against her head so bad guys couldn't grab it. Debbie had loved Kyria so much that she had requested new stories about her for her birthday every year.
"Stand back away from the door!" Kyria shouted. "We're coming in after you!"
She raised the axe in both hands and brought it down on the cheap wood. It cut a vertical slash as easily as scissors through paper. Kyria raised her axe again and swung in a horizontal stroke. When she had carved a child-sized T in the door, she put the axe back in its loop on her belt and kicked the door right at the intersection. There was a mighty crack, and the door shattered.
Sargent Fang poked his muzzle through the broken door. There was a child's squeal, and a happy cry of "Fangie!" He backed up, and hanging onto his neck was a familiar little girl with dark brown hair and a filthy pink unicorn T shirt.
"Debbie!" Kyria knelt down and hugged the child.
Debbie hugged her back and touched her ear. "You figured it out," she said. "All by yourself. I knew you would."
"I'm glad I found you again." Kyria held onto her baby sister so tightly that she could feel the child's rapid heartbeat. "I'm sorry that I left the path."
"It's okay. But now we gotta go." Kyria felt a tremor in the floor. White dust drifted down from the ceiling.
"Why does this always happen?" Kyria drew her axe and took Debbie by the hand. Sargent Fang led the way out of the shattered bedroom and down the dark hallway.
Behind her, Kyria heard thumps and crashes as the house collapsed. It made no logical sense; the house had been filthy but sound ten minutes ago. But in terms of the storybook world they were in, it made all the sense in the world. The movies she and Debbie had watched as children had always featured a villain's lair collapsing or exploding while the heroes struggled to escape in time. It was the standard end to a successful rescue. Kyria felt heartened by the thought. It meant that she had done something right.
Fang led them to the front door, which was now clean and in perfect repair. As Kyria touched it, a shivering crack ran straight up the center and into the ceiling. There wasn't much time left, and Kyria grabbed the doorknob and gave a yank. The door crumbled inward as it opened, falling into half a dozen pieces. Fang leaped over the pile, and Kyria and Debbie followed.
The air outside was warm and breezy, the sort of late spring weather she had always loved. The three adventurers stood on the green front lawn for a few minutes, catching their breath and savoring the clean, fresh air. Behind them, the house of Megan's childhood misery collapsed.
Her axe was gone, and the flamboyant battle armor had turned back into the scrubby pink sweats and T shirt she'd found in her closet. Megan breathed a small sigh of relief. It was fun to be someone else, but she didn’t feel comfortable out of her own skin. Too grown-up now, she supposed. Too set in her ways. Children tried on and discarded personalities like pairs of shoes because they weren't completely sure who they were yet. Megan knew all too well who she was, whether she liked it or not.
The house behind them was collapsed inward. It looked like a crumpled piece of paper. That was all right; Megan had no desire to go back. It was just a house. Just one of many homes she'd lived in over the years.
The rest of the neighborhood looked about the same as Megan remembered. There was the house across the street with the torn screen door and muddy yard that never got enough sun because of the enormous oak tree right in the middle. That had changed about a month after Megan and her family moved away; the tree had been cut down and the lawn re-sodded. The owner of the house had committed suicide, or so the rumors went. The house had been sold right after the funeral.
"There was a drug lab in the basement when the police came," Megan's friend Lisa had whispered during a quiet study time at school.
"What's a drug lab?" Megan had asked, and Lisa had rolled her eyes and gone back to her fashion magazine.
Megan never had learned if the rumors were true. She supposed that she could go over there now and have a look, but it would do no good. The house would only show her what she expected to see.
Jack Benimble was human again, and he spun around in a circle with his arms outstretched. "Now this takes me back," he said. He lifted his face to the bright springtime sun that filtered down through the brilliant green leaves. "Remember how much fun we used to have, running all over the neighborhood and playing at our stories?"
"Yes." Megan grinned, and she struck a fencing pose. "You, sir, have besmirched my honor with your wicked homework-ripping ways! En guard, or taste my steel!" She brandished her rapier, and Jack jumped back with a laugh.
"You can't blame me for that!" he exclaimed, flashing his own blade. "I said we should do your homework outside. I didn't say you should climb a tree with it!"
"But you didn't tell me not to!" Megan shouted with a grin. "Eat sword, scoundrel!"
They fenced and parried back and forth while Debbie watched with a smile. For the first time in God knew how long, Megan brimmed with raw, unbridled joy. In the back of her mind, she was aware of Paige and her plight, but just for right now, nothing mattered but the flash of sunlight on steel and Jack's wicked grin. Megan felt wonderful, alive and loved. She couldn't remember when she had last felt this good.
She could not have said how much time had passed; what did time matter in a place where time had frozen years ago, as soon as she'd left it? But eventually she and Jack both dropped their swords and declared a draw. Megan flopped onto her back on the sweet, tickly grass. Jack and Debbie sat down to either side of her, and they looked up at the sky in companionable silence.
Of course it's blue and perfect, Megan thought, the loveliest blue ever seen, with perfect, puffy clouds. This right here is a distilled version of every wonderful day I ever had while I lived here.
"Oh look!" Debbie pointed at something moving among the trees. "Look at those!"
Megan sat up and squinted. Shining globes about the size of softballs rustled among the leaves like squirrels. They looked like golden bubbles. After a moment or two, they bobbed down out of the trees and bounced through the air toward the trio. There were six in all, Megan counted, and they danced and floated exactly like bubbles, except that what little breeze was there was blowing in the opposite direction.
"They're happy bubbles," Jack said. He stood up, and Megan and Debbie joined him. "You remember happy bubbles, don't you?"
"Of course I do," Megan said, and as soon as the words left her mouth they were true. Of course she remembered happy bubbles. How could she not? She laughed, and the bubbles began to drift away
down the street.
"Come on!" she called, and she took off running after them. The faster she ran, the faster the bubbles flew, but they never flew out of sight. "They'll lead us to something happy!"
She didn't have to turn around to know that Jack and Debbie were right behind her. They chased after the happy bubbles as they led them on like will o the wisps, dancing and gleaming golden spheres that bobbed and drifted but would never pop until they had led Megan and Debbie to a thing of happiness.
The bubbles slowed down and bounced onto the sidewalk, then settled to a stop in a circle. At the center was a small red box with a yellow dial on one side. This wasn't what Megan had expected. She'd hoped that the happy bubbles would take her to her daughter, not some vintage toy.
"My music box!" Debbie shouted. She ran past Megan and scooped the toy into her arms like a long-lost kitten.
That was it, then. It wasn't Megan's happy; it was Debbie's. Maybe they'd take Megan to hers next. But no—the bubbles popped as soon as Debbie touched her music box. They were gone.
Chapter Seventeen
"My music box," Debbie cooed. She hugged the little red toy to her chest and stroked the yellow dial. "You were my favorite toy in the whole wide world."
Megan felt chilly and a little sick. She remembered the music box now, a present for Debbie's third birthday. She'd carried the damn thing around everywhere she went, turning the dial and listening to its tinkling little tune. Megan couldn't remember the name of the song, but she'd know it if she heard it.
"You even slept with it," she said distantly. "At night you'd wind it up over and over until you finally fell asleep. We weren't allowed anything but stuffed animals to sleep with, but for some reason Mom made an exception for that thing."
"Mom bought it for me," Debbie said. She held the red box close to her face and touched the peeling sticker with the bright pink smiley face. She had put the sticker there at age five, after a successful dental visit. Megan herself had had a cavity. No sticker for her. "She was so happy at how much I liked it that she let me take it everywhere."
"I know. There was no escaping that damn song."
"I'm sorry." But Debbie did not look sorry. She looked smug and pleased with herself as she cranked the dial. When she'd turned it as far as it would go, she paused, gave Megan a smirk that sort of made Megan want to slap her, and let go.
Toyland, toyland, magical girl and boy-land… Megan remembered the song now.
A cold wind whipped Megan's hair and rustled the trees around them. Half a dozen leaves shook loose and swirled down to the pavement. Megan shuddered. Something was about to happen. Far away, she thought she heard a growl. Like a dog, or perhaps a wolf.
No, it wasn't about to happen. It had already happened. Megan was just re-living it. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to remember. She'd relived it enough in her nightmares for months after it had happened.
Debbie stood in the middle of the road, hugging the music box to her chest. She seemed smaller and younger, four or five instead of seven. Maybe four and a half, almost five, and too old to be carrying around that damned old baby toy with its annoying song. Megan felt fiercely angry. But it wasn't a real feeling, not the one she was feeling right now. It was a memory of feeling. It was how she had felt that chilly October day when she'd put her baby sister's favorite toy in the middle of the road and left it there.
A car will come along and bye-bye music box, she'd thought with all the righteous conviction of an angry seven year old.
The lady next door was supposed to be watching them while Mom and Dad were at the matinee, but she'd fallen asleep in front of the TV. So she hadn't seen Megan sneak out the front door with the music box, nor had she seen Debbie wander out the back door and circle the house in search of her sister. Then Debbie had seen the bright red box in the middle of the road and run out after it.
Almost thirty years later, Megan could still remember every detail of that horrendous ninety seconds. She hadn't thought about it in years; she'd forced the memory into a back closet and slammed the door and locked it. But now that it was out, it was whole and complete without a single second missing. She remembered seeing her sister, clad in her bright pink jumper, race out into the road. That jumper, Dad had joked once, was bright enough to direct traffic. Perhaps that was no exaggeration, since it was the jumper that had caught the attention of the driver who had come down the road just a few seconds later.
Megan didn't know that the driver had seen her and had plenty of time to stop. All she knew was that her sister was standing in the middle of the road, and a car was coming. She'd screamed as the car approached, and she'd gone on screaming even after the car stopped and the handsome older woman in the black suit jumped out and scooped the child out of harm's way. Her screams had awakened the babysitter, who had made a big production of looking frantically for the children as though she had been awake the entire time.
The cloudy sky turned sunset orange, and Megan heard that horrible growl again. It might be a car coming, or a truck. Or it could be some hideous monster sent to eat Debbie up like in a fairy tale. The growling grew louder and louder, and Megan bit her hand hard to keep from screaming. If she screamed, it might come after her, too.
Any minute now.
Debbie stood in the middle of the empty road and hugged her music box. She was wearing the same bright pink jumper she’d worn that day, the one Dad had said was bright enough to direct traffic. Her eyes were closed, and her ears were tuned to nothing but the tinkling little song trickling out of her favorite toy.
Any minute now.
Megan was frozen, stiff and immobile. She saw her little sister standing in the middle of the road, and she knew that this was bad, very bad. She was going to be in big trouble for this. She hadn't known that Debbie would come out after the music box. The neighbor lady was supposed to be watching her. She hadn't been watching Megan either. Where was she? Where were all the grown-ups? Why was Megan all alone in this?
Debbie needed to get out of the road. A car could come and squish her. Squish her flat like a bug, like the frog they'd found in the road that one time. Its guts had been white, sticking out of its huge mouth like a tongue. She needed to yell at her sister to get out of the road, but she was still holding the music box. But her sister was in the road. But the music box.
Any minute now.
The low growl was getting louder and louder, closer and closer. It seemed to come from all around them. Megan said, "Debbie." Not loud enough.
Any minute now.
The growl vibrated through the ground. Megan could feel it in her feet. It was coming closer. Any minute now.
"Debbie!" Still not loud enough.
"Debbie!" Megan screamed and ran out into the road after her sister. She grabbed the smaller girl and pulled, but Debbie was too heavy to lift. Megan felt smaller. Was she a child now too? They both fell on the ground, and Megan's elbow slammed into the pavement. She cried out with the pain.
The growl was all around them, surrounding them. Megan felt hot breath on her neck and smelled exhaust. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
An enormous black wolf glared down at them with round yellow eyes. Its teeth were bared, and it breathed blue smoke in Megan's face.
"Bigbad," she whispered.
The wolf snarled. A strand of clear saliva dripped from its muzzle.
Megan heard the wolf's voice in her head like a telegram from Hell. Give me the little one. Give her to me, and I'll leave you alone.
"Megan, I'm scared," Debbie whimpered. She still clutched her music box, and Megan could feel its hard knob pressing into her belly. "I want to go home."
Bigbad the Wolf snapped the air next to Megan's face. Give her to me, or I'll eat you both.
"No!" Megan screamed. She flung out a fist and punched the wolf in its wet snout. It was a weak punch, but the wolf blanched.
I said give her to me! This time the wolf's jaw closed on her arm. Pain jolted up her arm and into her shoulder, bu
t Megan screamed, "No!" again and kicked the wolf in its legs. Her blows couldn't possibly hurt the monster, but it still flinched and let go of her arm. Warm blood trickled down and soaked into her shirt.
"Get away from us!" Megan sobbed. "Get away, I'm not afraid of you!"
You're lying. Bigbad licked his jaws. I can taste your fear. It is delicious.
His eyes were different now. They were clear, pale blue. Like Uncle Glen's eyes.
No, Megan was definitely afraid. But not of the wolf itself. She was afraid because this was it, this was what she had come all this way to face. The Dungeon Deep was very close. She could smell it, just like she could smell the exhaust puffing from Bigbad's mouth.
The Dungeon was close. It was right next door, so to speak. And Megan had to swallow her fear and enter. It was the only way she could find and rescue Paige. The Dungeon was at the bottom of the rabbit hole.
Debbie lay curled up in the fetal position with her eyes squinched closed. She held on to her music box, and Megan reached out and slowly turned the dial. Without taking her eyes off the wolf, she wound it up as far as it would go.
The wolf flinched again and took a step back. He shook his head as though irritated by a flying insect.
"Jack Benimble, Jack be quick. Take us to the Dungeon, speedy quick," she whispered.
The she let go of the knob, and the song began to play.
Jack was there, kneeling between them and the growling, confused wolf. "Hold on tight," he said. He put one hand on Megan's shoulder and the other on Debbie's back. The street beneath them crumbled and opened into a yawning black chasm. The world around them disappeared into blackness.
Then they were falling down, down, and down they fell through the cold breath of nothingness and into the Dungeon Deep.
Chapter Eighteen
The air was bitterly cold. Megan held on to Debbie, and Jack held onto them both as they fell through the blackness. She could hear Jack breathing hard in her ear, and she could feel Debbie's heart pounding against her thin T shirt. She tried to look around, but the air was so cold that her eyes burned and teared. She closed her eyes and held on to her sister and prayed that Jack knew what he was doing.
