When Joe was born, she’d settled into her life as a happily married woman, leaving all her thoughts of romance behind her. It seemed her wild adventures of youth were safely locked in the past, but the past always catches up with you one way or another, and it seemed that fate had more in store for her…
Emily stood at the train station, slightly harassed and carrying countless bags of shopping.
Joe was in a crèche, Herb was at work, and her perfect existence was just beginning.
She was daydreaming about the shiny new oven she’d ordered that day when someone bumped into her with such force that they knocked her over in an avalanche of shopping bags.
The rushing figure paused for a second, and then came back. A pair of strong hands lifted her off the ground and back on to her feet.
“I’m sorry,” the man said. A pair of enchanting violet eyes looked into hers, and suddenly she didn’t care about her oven or her shopping anymore.
There was a shout from the main doors, and Derobmi wardens flooded into the station. The man looked panicked and grabbed her arm. He yanked her into a nearby train and held her in a private compartment as a willing hostage for the next seven hours.
The wardens never looked in the compartment, and the train never moved because it had broken down. She never tried to get away from the violet-eyed man.
She never once questioned her actions. They had felt right, and they made everything else in her life feel wrong. It was as if there was a connection between her and this man, which time, reason and morals could not break.
There had been something in his voice, a longing sadness that stole her heart. Although, she knew it was just a moment in life, it was one she never regretted, and she never forgot.
Carla was born some nine months later and declared a medical mystery. Every day since that day, Emily had scrubbed that oven to keep it shiny and new because every time she looked at her daughter, a part of her longed to see the violet eyes of the man she had once known.
She never knew his name, but if the oven stayed new then so would that moment.
The moments had passed very slowly while Parklon watched Carla’s orange friend, Bob, lie unconscious in his cell. It was a bit boring. An occasional twitch was the only variation. Still, it was an improvement on staring at the cheerily-painted walls or—even worse—the inspirational posters.
Bob twitched again and groaned, and then he rolled over and peered at the green ceiling of his cell.
“Oh God, not again,” he moaned as he sat up.
He rubbed the back of his head and then turned, noticing Parklon peering down at him through the shiny green bars. “I know you,” he mumbled. “Don’t you work for immigration?” he asked with narrowed eyes.
“No, Carla was confused. I work for the Scientific Institute. But yes, you know me, kinda,” Parklon said. “Welcome to the loony bin. You come here often?”
Bob jumped up and looked around quickly. “Carla!” he cried.
“Hey, slow down,” Parklon said. “You’ll knock yourself out again. Don’t worry, she’ll figure it out and come and bail us out soon.”
Bob paused and frowned at him. “Not much of a self-starter, are ye?” he said while raising an eyebrow.
Parklon flexed his arm muscles and gritted his teeth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Bob shrugged. “Damn it, she’s gonna be in trouble with that Rhecknaw,” he muttered to himself, seemingly unaware of Parklon’s existence. Then he paused and eyed up Parklon, as if remembering the Zoolaf was there.
“She’s where?” Parklon asked, tightly gripping the bars of his cell as worry bubbled in his stomach.
Bob leaned against the bars and eyed Parklon. “You like her, huh?” he asked. He seemed calmer now that someone else was freaking out. “And that won’t work,” he added, nodding at the bars that Parklon was attempting to move.
“But if she’s with a Rhecknaw …” Parklon began. “She could. I mean, they could …” He trailed off.
“Do more things than you realize, mate.” Bob finished for him. “Right, we best get out of ere.” He turned around in his cell, studying the walls.
Parklon frowned, trying to figure out how everything had gone so wrong. “So where did she meet this Rhecknaw guy? Why wasn’t she waiting for me?” he asked.
Bob snorted at him. “Don’t know much about girls, do ya?” He chuckled. “Let’s get ourselves out of ‘ere, shall we? We can deal with your abandonment issues later,” he added.
Parklon was not amused by Bob’s comment. “I have been trying to get out of here, you know.” He narrowed his eyes at the orange guy, expelling a low growl.
“Yeah, I bet you ave,” Bob said, rolling his eyes, and then he did the strangest thing. He scrubbed the walls clean with his pillowcase.
Parklon snorted. “What are you planning on doing, cleaning your way out?” he asked incredulously.
Bob’s eyes twinkled amber at him. “If you’re in a Derobmi jail, you’ve gotta think like a Derobmi. Give me yer watch, and I’ll get you out too, blue-boy,” he said, winking.
Parklon widened his eyes as he saw a doorway beginning to appear under Bob’s frantic scrubbing.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
Bob held out his hand, clearly not kidding.
Parklon sighed and handed over his watch. “But I get the feeling you’re not,” he added as Bob’s escape route became clearer.
The fire was simmering down to a low glow in the stone fireplace, but the room remained toasty and warm in the dim haze of candlelight.
Carla rolled over on the soft fur rug and stretched, luxuriating in the feel of soft fur beneath her and basking in the warm glow of love. Still dressed, but now in rumpled clothing, she rolled over to look at the beautiful boy lying beside her.
She watched his long eyelashes flutter while he slept and decided there was nothing more appealing than a strong masculine form lounging. Her eyes traveled down his broad shoulders, scanning over his muscled chest, all the way down to his long jean-clad legs.
She glanced back up to his face to find his enchanting green eyes open and looking at her with a mischievous sparkle in them.
She smiled, docile and drugged by a moment of bliss that she couldn’t describe. It was a trance that she never wanted to be woken from, which held her in a bubble of absolute happiness.
His arm encircled her waist and pulled her across him, and she laid her head on his chest and sighed with contentment that she hadn’t known existed. There was no reason for words, no need of them at all.
They existed in the same space of time, in the same moment. They were connected together by a crazy feeling, which was more important to them than anything else in the world.
She felt as if she belonged here. For so long, she had never really belonged anywhere, but this place, this moment, this man was where she belonged. She had known it from the first time she saw him at Sparkle and Shine. This was the adventure she was meant to go on. This was her destiny.
A small voice in the back of her mind told her it was crazy, but the louder feeling of the moment silenced it before it could be heard, and she snuggled into his chest with a completely empty head and a smile playing on her lips. Who needed thoughts when reality was so perfect?
Parklon leaned against a dirty wall and watched Bob walking back and forth across an ancient junction in the sewers.
They’d been lost in the labyrinth of twisting tunnels for an hour now, but Bob was adamant he knew where he was going.
Parklon eyed the four dark, grimy tunnel entrances, frowning at the damp mossy walls and alien-like litter scattered across the vile-smelling floors.
“Anymore great plans?” he asked, and Bob scowled at him.
“One of these leads us into the mansion. I just need to remember which one,” Bob muttered.
Parklon rolled his eyes, still annoyed with his orange friend. “Well, let’s just try that one,” he said, pointing to the one opposite him.
Anxiety knotted in his stomach when he thought about Carla. He wanted to ensure she was safely out of harm’s way as soon as possible. He’d rather walk through a pile of steaming sewage to get to her than hang around here waiting for the paranoid, orange escape-artist-extraordinaire to make a decision.
Bob shrugged. “Your funeral,” he said, pointing to the tunnel Parklon had suggested.
He’d had just about enough of Bob’s know-it-all attitude.
“Yeah, right, whatever,” he muttered as he set off down the tunnel.
“Watch out for the Gooblies!” He heard Bob’s voice echo down the tunnel behind him.
“Gooblies, my arse,” he muttered as he rounded a bend on his way down the ancient sewer network.
Ahead, a distant glow of light shone in the distance. He grinned and set off running toward it, suspecting he’d just found daylight and a way out.
“Ha!—” He exclaimed with the satisfaction of being right. “—argh!” He choked out when what was around the bend came into full view.
In a massive antechamber at the end of the tunnel, a huge bonfire burned brightly as hundreds of small, furry balls with twig-like arms and legs were dancing around it.
Each fur ball looked the same. As he tried to focus on the strange image, a group of six of them began cannibalistically devouring each other.
Parklon took a step back as he noted they each had a set of razor-sharp teeth and claws. While he watched, they tossed the most devoured fur ball onto the bonfire. It screeched in agony while it burned alive.
He froze in shock, trying to understand what he’d walked into. “Gooblies?” he asked himself.
Hundreds of pairs of yellow eyes turned to stare at him, and the scene seemed frozen in time for a second.
With a gulp, he spun around and raced back down the tunnel as fast as his legs would carry him.
Shivers shot up his spine as a high-pitched squeal followed him. “Gooblieees.”
He glanced back, seeing the vicious critters chasing him. He could hear the gnashing of their sharp, little teeth and the skittering of their little legs behind him as he ran for his life.
He spotted Bob lounging lazily at the tunnel entrance. He looked as if he was thoroughly enjoying Parklon’s fear.
“Gooblies!” Parklon cried at Bob to warn him of the mass of vicious fur balls racing up behind him.
He passed Bob and continued running, glancing back to see a completely unconcerned Bob, simply hit a big red button on the wall beside him after Parklon had passed him by.
A whirring sound filled the tunnel. Parklon stopped and turned to peer back. A massive fan started up deep in the recesses of the tunnel, pulling back the Gooblies with the rush of cold air it generated.
He watched in utter horror as a Gooblie tried to cling to Bob’s trouser leg. The force of the fan ripped it off, and it flew back into the tunnel with a “wheee” noise.
Bob shut the tunnel door and locked it. Gooblies could be seen flying off the walls and back down into the tunnel through the small grate in the door.
Bob turned to Parklon, who had collapsed on the floor gasping for air.
“Told you to watch out for the Gooblies, mate,” he said.
Parklon scowled at him.
“Now there’s no need for that kind of attitude.” Bob winked him. “I think I know the way out now.”
Parklon stood up and brushed dirt off his now grimy t-shirt. “If we were in Zoola …” He narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists.
“Yeah yeah, you’d have thrown me through a window by now.” Bob finished for him. “But we’re not, and you’ve got a girl to save, right? This way,” he said, pointing to the tunnel to the left of the Gooblie’s domain. “To Foamy Mansion.”
Parklon nodded, holding back the urge to break something. Carla was in trouble. They didn’t have time to waste on fighting now.
“What were those things, anyway?” he asked as they set off down the tunnel side by side.
“Gooblies?” Bob asked, and Parklon nodded.
“Well, the theory is that Derobmi’s been hiding its dirty side down here forever, and the dust and dirt evolved in to those vicious lil critters. They thrive on dust, ya see. Of course, it’s all theory, ‘cause no Derobmi’s gonna admit they exist,” he said, shaking his head.
Parklon calmly and silently took in the information that this hidden species existed as he followed Bob down the tunnel. He was a bit jumpy if he saw movement on the grimy tunnel walls.
What else lives down here?
Carla was basking in the sweet laziness of love and lying comfortably on the fur rug. She hugged the silk quilt that was wrapped around her, and nuzzled into the soft cushion under her head.
She was warm, safe, relaxed and floating in heavenly bliss.
Krellin had gone to find them both some breakfast an hour ago, and she was waiting for him to return.
She smiled into the cushion. He’s amazing.
She decided to get up and see how she looked. She was quite content to stay in this lazy state all day, but she also wanted to look her best when he came back.
She stood up and tugged her top down in an attempt to iron out the creases, and then she walked over to the fireplace and peered at herself in the huge ornate brass mirror hanging above it.
The girl in the mirror looked dazed with a crazy mass of hair sticking out all over the place. She had wide staring eyes and pale lips.
She frowned at the mirror. Under love’s influence, she looked awful. In her mind, she had expected to look full of life, even to glow with internal happiness, but the girl in the mirror looked drawn and pale, lifeless and more gray than purple.
She frowned again.
Should love look like this? And what’s taking Krellin so long, anyway?
Questions began to invade the happy utopia in her mind, creating a vortex of doubt. Now Krellin was gone, she began to think about Joe and all the other teenagers in the colony, who were wasting away in hospital beds. Now he was gone, thoughts of her own strange heritage and of Parklon and Bob also filtered through.
How could she have forgotten them all? Where was her mother now? Where was Parklon? Did Bob really know her secrets better than she did?
The questions were swimming through her mind, and she was frowning in the mirror when Krellin walked back into the room. He was carrying a tray of culinary delights.
Upon seeing her expression, his beautiful smile faded. He set down the tray on the desk and turned to face her with worried eyes.
All of her worries melted away. He looked so sweet. She smiled, and he rushed over to her and wrapped his arms around her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She snuggled into his chest. “Yes, I am now.”
He was so adorable and perfect. Her concerns drifted far away into the deepest recesses of her memory once more, and she decided to spend a bit more time in his arms. After all, she had her whole life to worry about other things.
Emily Mainston was scrubbing the oven while Joe was sitting in the living room, staring into space.
She wiped a tear off her cheek and polished the stainless steel with renewed vigor.
Poor Joe, he was so silent now with no Carla around to ask him inane questions.
The doctors had done nothing but silence him, so Emily had brought him home. Wasted and pale-skinned as he was, he did seem happier at home. He was still unresponsive and like an empty shell of the boy he used to be, but here he had a tiny sparkle in his eyes.
She sobbed at the side of the cooker. It could be the last place he remembered. The doctors had said if he didn’t start responding soon, he might just wither away.
Her sobbing increased. How could this happen?
A small cough broke through her sobs, and she quickly spun around.
The face before her was one she hadn’t seen in sixteen years. He had enchanting violet eyes, which were sporting the same lost look in them that had melted her heart all those years ago. The f
ace had aged a bit, but the eyes remained the same.
“I need your help again.” His voice was older too, but it was still filled with as much longing as it had been the first time she’d heard it.
Amelia put down the telephone and frowned at it. The information she was getting appeared to be producing more questions, rather than answering any.
She had first spoken to the offices of Sraw University, claiming to be an old friend of Constanople Ernendez, who was trying to locate him.
The lady at the university had informed her that, unfortunately, they couldn’t give out information on members of the Trell royal family, and she must contact the press department if she was doing an article on him.
Confusing enough, but upon calling Cimigosim Preparatory School, she had been informed that information on Rhecknaw royalty was confidential and once again, told to ask the press department for information on the latest press releases.
After wondering how a Trell royal could also be a Rhecknaw royal, she had called Harry from International Affairs in Derobmi and asked him.
Harry had been an occasional golf partner of Daniel’s. He was helpful, at least on the subject of who Constanople Ernendez was, or who he had been.
Constanople Ernendez had been declared dead years ago. The reports said he had died the same year that Daniel’s records showed his change of colony.
If the information was correct, she knew who he had been and where he went, but she still didn’t know who he was now or why he’d disappeared.
Harry also said she shouldn’t contact Trell or Rhecknaw. War was brewing over there again, and anyone who got involved would get caught in the crossfire. He said peace negotiations with both sides were tough enough right now.
Science Fiction and Fantasy Box Set 1: The Squishies Series Page 15
