World's End
Page 4
"This man, Monsieur Perplexon, you are his son?" asked the driver.
Alfonso said nothing.
"He was very clever," said the driver. "We tried to follow him, naturally, but he eluded us. That is very rare, very rare indeed."
"Who are you?" asked Alfonso.
"That doesn't matter," replied the man calmly. "What matters is who you are. I was hoping that I had found another Great Sleeper like Monsieur Perplexon, but alas, all I have found is a Dormian boy trying to find his father. Quite curious."
Alfonso couldn't contain his shock. "Dad was a Great Sleeper?"
The man smiled in such a way that Alfonso felt a tingle of fear dance across the nape of his neck.
"I don't know what's going on," replied Alfonso shakily. "But I really have to be going." In his left hand, Alfonso clutched the rosewood box. His right hand snaked into the front pocket of his trousers and encircled the sphere. "Please let me pass."
"I am afraid that is not an option, my friend," replied the man. "You see, I am bound by very strict orders."
"Orders?" asked Alfonso.
"Yes," said the driver. "And may God forgive me for killing a boy." He then sprang at Alfonso like a panther. Alfonso turned to run, but his feet came out from under him and he sprawled awkwardly to the stone floor. His leg, which he had injured in the water, throbbed and felt warm. The newly formed scab on the wound had reopened. Alfonso looked up. The man loomed above him, holding two daggers in his hands.
"Such a pity," the man said through gritted teeth. He paused for a second and then brought the dagger down in a smooth motion toward Alfonso's heart. Alfonso had been struggling beneath him, but the instant the dagger began its downward journey, he relaxed. Sleep came milliseconds later and at the moment that the dagger pricked Alfonso's shirt, he moved his torso so forcefully and suddenly that the man fell to the floor, and the dagger fell from his grip. Alfonso sprang to his feet, arms out. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, and a second later Alfonso's eyes were back open and he was wide awake.
"Don't make this difficult," snarled the driver as he sprang to his feet. The man then snatched the dagger from the floor and in one fluid motion continued his charge toward Alfonso. Alfonso took the sphere from his pants pocket and threw it at the man's chest. The impact of the sphere lifted the man off the ground and slammed him into the wall twenty feet away. Meanwhile, the sphere returned to Alfonso's outstretched hands. The instant that it came back, Alfonso threw it again and again. The sphere pummeled the man as he slid down the wall into a crumpled heap.
As soon as Alfonso caught his breath, he felt overcome with nausea. The floor was covered with the man's blood. For a moment, Alfonso feared that he had killed him, but then the man managed to sit up weakly. His eyes looked dull, but vaguely alert. His breathing was labored.
"You won't find Perplexon," gasped the man. "If he's not already dead, he might as well be."
"I'm not afraid of the Dragoonya," replied Alfonso.
The man laughed and then winced in pain. "You're such a foolish child. It's not the Dragoonya who have imprisoned your father. It's the Dormians."
CHAPTER 7
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
ALFONSO'S EYES SLAMMED OPEN. For the first few seconds, he had no idea where he was. He lay on a narrow bed, in a small concrete room with a rickety ceiling fan wobbling overhead. This place seems familiar, thought Alfonso. Then it came back to him. He was back in his hotel room, at the Three Sphinxes Hotel.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Someone was knocking on the door—loudly.
Alfonso looked around quickly and, to his great relief, he saw that all of his possessions were in plain sight: his backpack, money, books, passport, and blue sphere. There was also a small rosewood box and, as soon as Alfonso saw this, recent events came back to him: the trip to the cliffs, the Sleeping Sphinx, the dive into the sea, the cave, and then the awful battle with the taxi driver.
But how had he gotten back to his hotel room?
The last thing he recalled was climbing up the bronze handrails leading up the side of the crypt. Everything after this was a blank, which meant, of course, that Alfonso must have dozed off and his sleeping-self had taken over.
Alfonso glanced at his watch and, judging by the time and date, he quickly calculated that it had been almost thirty-six hours since he had left the hotel.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The door to the hallway reverberated under heavy knocking.
"One second!" Alfonso yelled.
"Mr. Perplexon, are you in there?" came a woman's voice from the other side of the door. Her voice had a strange, bird-like sound to it.
Alfonso threw on his clothes and crammed all of his possessions into his backpack. Everything except his sphere. He held this in his right hand, ready for whatever came through the door.
"I have an urgent message for Master Alfonso Perplexon," said the woman. "It is from a friend."
Alfonso walked across the room to the door. He put his hand on the doorknob and hesitated.
"Who are you?" he shouted.
"I am the servant of a friend of yours," said the voice. "Please, we must converse immediately."
"I don't have any friends in Alexandria," said Alfonso.
"This friend is not from Alexandria," replied the voice. "His home is in Barsh-yin-Binder."
This was most unexpected. Barsh-yin-Binder was a city on the edge of the Urals, a dreary place inhabited by Dragoonya, mercenaries, and smugglers. Alfonso and his uncle Hill had passed through there on their way to Somnos.
"Barsh-yin-Binder?" inquired Alfonso.
"That's correct," said the voice. "He has come at the request of Judy, your mother."
Alfonso opened the door. Standing in the doorway was a tall woman with long gray hair, dressed in khaki pants, a tight black shirt, and a snappy Panama hat. She appeared to be middle-aged, but it was hard to know. Her thin, delicate face was deeply tanned. She had a rather long nose and a pointy chin. Alfonso was happy to see that the woman's eyes were not white, but shone a light emerald green.
"Allow me to introduce myself," she said with a slight bow. "My name is Snej Duhamel. I am a pilot by vocation, based out of Persia normally, but in recent time I have been employed by a man who travels quite frequently. You are hereby requested to accompany me to an airship on the outskirts of this town."
"Are you kidding?" Alfonso asked.
"I do not jest," replied Snej.
"But I have to call my mom," Alfonso said.
"Later," replied Snej. "The street is buzzing with the news of an American boy who has killed a local taxi driver and stolen his car. The man's body was found in the desert near the Three Sphinxes and his taxi was found just blocks from here."
"Killed?" replied Alfonso. "Are you sure he's..."
"Dead," finished Snej. She nodded.
I have killed a man. This thought lodged into Alfonso's brain like a meteor that had just made impact.
"Come," said Snej. "We have no time to waste."
Alfonso grabbed his backpack and quickly followed Snej. Outside, a white Rolls-Royce idled at the curb. It was in pristine condition, without a scratch or even a trace of mud. It had attracted a crowd of amazed Alexandrians, including the innkeeper. At the first sight of Alfonso, the innkeeper pointed his finger accusingly and shouted loudly in Arabic: "That's the American boy! He must have snuck in!" There were several angry shouts from the crowd.
Snej shoved Alfonso into the back seat of the Rolls-Royce. She then reached into the driver's seat, pulled out a rifle, and pointed it directly at the innkeeper. "Sukat!" she growled. The innkeeper immediately went quiet. Snej slid into the driver's seat and closed the door. Fists pounded on the windows, but the glass was bulletproof, and hence far too sturdy to buckle under such pressure. Snej pressed her foot on the accelerator and the Rolls-Royce's motor uttered a deep-throated roar. The crowd shrank back. Snej took advantage of their fear, threw the car into gear, and sped away.
"If you please, kind sir, my employer waits for you aboard," she said. "After securing the Rolls-Royce under a camouflage tarp, I will join you with all due speed." She pointed at the airplane's stairs. The banisters gleamed with inlaid wood, and the stairs were covered with a thick carpet. One thing was certain. Whoever waited for Alfonso aboard the Twin Otter was wealthy beyond any reasonable measure.
Alfonso grabbed his backpack and walked slowly toward the plane. With some reluctance, he began climbing the stairs. Halfway up he became aware of someone at the doorway of the plane. Alfonso looked up and at first was only aware of the person's massive size.
He was a giant, muscular fellow dressed in a white suit and a sharp red tie. In one hand he held a cane emblazoned with rubies. His long black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. He wore dark glasses. After a moment of shock, Alfonso recognized him.
Bilblox.
CHAPTER 8
ABOARD THE TWIN OTTER
BILBLOX ENGULFED HIS OLD FRIEND with a ferocious bear hug.
"I-I don't believe it..." stammered Alfonso. He felt elated, and for the first time in days he felt safe. No matter what the situation, he always felt more secure with Bilblox around. "How are you?"
"Not bad," replied Bilblox.
Truth be told, Alfonso was both amazed and relieved to see that his friend was doing so well. Alfonso had first met Bilblox in Fort Krasnik, the windswept, lawless island off the western coast of Canada, which functions as the headquarters for some of the world's top smugglers. The two of them had become fast friends while playing the legendary game of ballast together, and afterward Bilblox had insisted on accompanying Alfonso on his journey to Dormia. But, along the way, Bilblox had gone blind. Alfonso worried that Bilblox would never be able to return to his old way of life. On numerous occasions, Alfonso had written letters to Bilblox to see how he was managing, but Bilblox had never replied. Alfonso had had fears of his friend living on the streets, blind, lonely, and destitute. But clearly these worries were unfounded.
"Come on," said Bilblox. "Let's have some grub! I think you'll dig my plane."
Alfonso followed Bilblox into the Twin Otter and watched as his friend expertly navigated the plane's cabin, which featured plush, oversize leather chairs, Persian carpets, and a gas fireplace. Bilblox led Alfonso to a wooden table bolted into the floor. It was set with fine china, silk napkins, and several different dishes: a savory meatloaf Alfonso remembered from Fort Krasnik, piping hot sourdough bread, a bacon and spinach quiche, rhubarb pie, and tall glasses of lemonade. The sight and smell of the food made Alfonso weak at the knees.
"Dig in," commanded Bilblox. "Your mother's burstin' over with nervousness about you, and it won't do for her to see ya famished."
Through a mouthful of meatloaf, Alfonso managed to respond. "My mom sent you?"
"Who else?" asked Bilblox. "She called ol' Dusty Magrewski in Fort Krasnik and he gave 'er my mobile number. I got the call from Judy last night. She was out of 'er head with worry. She kept sayin', 'Alfonso is a good boy. He always calls. Some-thin' terrible has happened.' Lucky fer you, I was just across the way in Athens, on business. I got a gal there who sells me third-century antiquities—real nice vases. They'll fetch top dollar in Hong Kong. It's all strictly hush-hush, of course. Anyway, I flew over right quick on my Twin Otter. Got her secondhand from the Manitoba Forest Service and added a bunch of new goodies." Bilblox smacked the solid steel hull of the plane. "She'll go anywhere, land anywhere, and take off from anywhere!"
"This is yours?" asked Alfonso. "How about the Rolls-Royce? And Snej Duhamel?"
"Snej is a fine woman and an even better pilot," said Bilblox. "She's worth every penny I pay her."
"How can you afford all this?" said Alfonso. "It's incredible!"
"I'm sorry to say that the money comes with sad tidings," said Bilblox with a frown. "I don't suppose ya heard? Nope. I been meanin' to write. Never was good with letter writin'. Vice Admiral Purcheezie, may her soul rest easy, passed away about a year ago. She died the way she would have liked to go—her heart gave way while she was cussin' out a customs official. Since I'd been her right-hand man in the smugglin' business—ever since I returned from Somnos and couldn't find work as a longshoreman—she saw to it that I'd take over her business. I got tired a bouncin' around the Success Story. We've upgraded the business with this Twin Otter, and as you can see, I'm doin' very well. Very well indeed. Got offices in Fort Krasnik, Barsh-yin-Binder, and Hong Kong."
Bilblox took off his glasses and seemed to stare at Alfonso. His eyes were still entirely white.
"How is your eyesight?" asked Alfonso. "Are you still blind?"
"Blind as a bat," said Bilblox with a rather sad smile. "But I'm still pretty nimble." He laughed heartily. "I got myself a seein' eye dog of sorts. Her name is Kõrgushüpe, but I call her Kõrgu for short. She's nappin' in 'er kennel now. You'll meet 'er later. Ya know, I don't mind the blindness so much, but once in a while I get these wicked headaches. Sometimes they lay me out for days at a time. I suspect it has somethin' to do with that purple ash I put in my eyes. But I ain't complainin'."
He leaned over and passed his fingers across Alfonso's face, examining the contours of his chin, cheeks, and mouth. He whistled.
"You've grown a lot in the last three years, haven't ya?" asked Bilblox. "You're practically a man by now. Dusty and the other longshoremen would love t'see you now! Maybe you'll stop by for a visit in Fort Krasnik on the way home to Minnesota."
Alfonso looked down at his plate, but said nothing.
"What is it?" asked Bilblox. "Don't get all quiet on a blind man—it makes me jumpy."
"I can't go back to Minnesota," said Alfonso. "At least, not right now."
"Oh fer cryin' out loud," said Bilblox. "Why in the heck not? Is this some sorta teenage rebellion?"
"Nothing like that," replied Alfonso. He paused. "I can't quite believe this, but my dad, Leif, may be alive."
"What!" declared Bilblox incredulously. "Whaddya mean? Where is he?"
"Not sure exactly," said Alfonso. "But I think I know who could help us."
"Who?"
"Josephus."
"Josephus!" said Bilblox with a snort. "The old Dormian historian? He's back in Somnos. You can't just pick up the telephone and call him. You'd have to trek through the Urals and ... Wait a minute. Are you suggestin' that we ... No, no way, that's out of the question."
"Look," said Alfonso calmly. "My dad may still be alive, but if he is, I think he's in trouble."
Bilblox stared intently at Alfonso. Snej walked onboard to announce that the Rolls-Royce was hidden and the Twin Otter was ready for takeoff.
"Let's get outta here," Bilblox commanded.
"Very well, sir," replied Snej. "And may I assume the destination is World's End, Minnesota?"
"Just head north," Bilblox growled. "We'll make a decision after I hear what this boy—sorry, teenager—has to say."
The Twin Otter's engines revved up to maximum as Snej settled into the pilot's seat. Soon, the plane took off in a steep ascent out of the desert canyon. Snej set a course due north across the Mediterranean. Meanwhile, Alfonso told Bilblox the whole story, starting in Paris and continuing through the fight with the taxi driver and the discovery that his father was a Great Sleeper.
When Alfonso finished talking, Bilblox sat there
in silence. Finally, he spoke. "I remember Leif from the few years that he and your uncle were livin' in Fort Krasnik with me and the other longshoremen," said Bilblox. "He was a few years older than me, but ya could tell he was meant for somethin' special. The way he used to play ballast! Man! I never saw anyone move so quick in my life. A real nice guy he was, too." Bilblox's hand traced the contours of the glass of lemonade and after a moment's pause, he continued.
"But you've gotta realize," said Bilblox, "what yer talkin' about is no small thing. You could be searchin' fer years fer yer old man and, meanwhile, ya got a mom at home who is worried sick about her boy."
"I just want to stop by Somnos," said Alfonso. "That's all."
"That ain't so easy last time I checked," said Bilblox with a snort. "First off, it's winter in the Urals right now and we can't just land anywhere we choose! And even if we found our way back to the entrance, how d'ya suppose we'd get through the mountain gates? They'll never open if we don't have a Dormian bloom with us. And then supposin' we did get in and found a clue in Somnos about where Leif had gone off to, we'd be trampin' around the Urals tryin' to find a needle in a haystack."
Bilblox looked sorrowfully at Alfonso.
"I ain't tryin' to be insensitive here," said Bilblox. "But ya ain't a kid anymore—ya got to think about these things. I mean, let's be honest here, ya really think yer old man is still alive? I mean, I wish to God that he was, but what are the chances?"
"All I know is that I was led to that crypt for a reason," insisted Alfonso. "You remember how it was on the way to Somnos the first time. Everything I did, from raising falcons to growing the Dormian bloom itself, had a reason. It was my sleeping-self preparing me for something. And now it's the same thing. All the things I've been up to—from meeting the Wanderer in Paris to diving into the water in front of the Three Sphinxes—there's something important going on here."
"It doesn't make sense, though," said Bilblox. "Suppose that yer old man is a Great Sleeper, where was he headed? You saved Somnos and that's the only Dormian city left. What was yer dad up to? Where was he headed?"