Higher Mythology

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “The children?” Keith blinked. “At Gilbreth?”

  “Yes! I felt them, just for a minute, safe and well. That chemical soup is what is blocking natural sense. Go back!”

  “Can’t!” Frank said regretfully. “We can’t change the wind.” The larger sprite whipped around the balloon, showing its agitation in snapshot images forced into their minds. The picture of the little girl forced to walk between two men repeated over and over. Frank waved a hand around his eyes, trying to clear his vision.

  “Stop that!” Keith ordered. “We can’t think.” The pictures stopped at once. The guide drew back, hovering tentatively just beyond the basket’s edge, apology in its large eyes. They were passing over the buildings now. Shortly, they’d be beyond the property’s edge.

  Keith got a sudden inspiration. “Drop her!” he cried.

  Frank, mentally weighing safety against the rescue of the children, nodded sharply once and yanked the parachute release. They heard the outrush of air, and saw a burst of sunlight up inside the dome as the great rainbow bag opened on top. Swiftly, the balloon dropped toward the earth. Whipping its tail skyward, the sprite reversed and followed them downward headfirst. Keith gritted his teeth as the earth rushed toward them. Wind whistled in his ears.

  “Ah, no!” Tay groaned, falling to his knees on the padding at the bottom of the basket. “I’ll never leave solid ground again.”

  The balloon pilot slowed their descent as soon as he hit calm air closer to the ground. The craft jerked slightly, but all four men were well braced.

  “Distraction’s only good a short time,” Frank said tersely. “Leave it to me. Truck’s been tracking us. Take it home. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Keith said, crouching, ready for the impact of landing. Holl copied his posture, and clutched the edge of the basket with both hands.

  The sprite shot upward and away, leaving behind a final image of Holl holding Asrai and Tay with his arms around Dola.

  “I think that means good luck,” Keith said. He saw men on the ground running toward the descending balloon. “Get down!”

  He and the two elves ducked further below the edge of the rattan basket and held on. Frank landed the balloon with a hard thump. The gondola bounced and began to scoot along the ground, slowing as air rushed out of the balloon. When the deflating bag started to billow over them, he hissed, “Go!”

  Keith slipped over the rear side and helped the elves climb out. They ran, crouched low, under cover of the Iris, toward the industrial buildings, as the men closed in on Frank, shouting for explanations.

  “What are you doing here?” one man in guard uniform demanded.

  “Hey, it’s beautiful!” another cried. “Do you need help, fellah?”

  Frank held up his cell phone. “It’s okay! Chase car be here in a minute. Give a guy a hand?” He punched in the number of his truck’s mobile phone.

  The three ran around the corner of one of the brown brick buildings, avoiding the windows, and crouched out of sight of the crowd gathering around Frank and the balloon.

  “Where to?” Keith whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Holl said. “I’ve lost the trace again, but they must be in one of these buildings. The square footage is finite. We’ll split up.”

  “I wish I’d been paying more attention to the floor plan when I was here,” Keith said, glancing behind him. Their haven was surrounded by walls on three sides: a dead end. “I never dreamed they’d be here. I could’ve freed them days ago!”

  “Never mind,” Holl said. “Use your eyes and ears!”

  Across the grounds, Frank was instructing an enthusiastic volunteer force in how to drag down the nylon canvas and lay it flat. Little breezes caught inside the lip of the bag and made it billow upward. Laughing, the men grabbed for the fluttering edges and tried to make them stay on the ground. They called to others who came out of doors to come and help.

  “He’s keeping them busy,” Holl said. “Go, then!”

  Still hunched over, Holl slipped off to the left, signaling to Tay and Keith to go another way. Nodding, Tay went to the right. Keith followed him for a short time, then detoured down a narrow passage between two of the brick buildings.

  ***

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  In her prison at one end of the main building, Dola heard the commotion. She dragged the plastic chair to the window and stood on it to see what was occurring. In the narrow areaway outside, men were running and calling to one another. It didn’t seem to be a disaster, such as a fire, for they seemed happy and excited. Something good, then, but unexpected. She pressed her cheek against the glass to see. Out of the corner of her eye she could see bright colors bobbing and billowing where there was normally the marshy brown of the clay soil that underlay this place. While she watched, the colorful mass sagged and flattened out. She couldn’t guess what it was.

  In her arms, Asrai stirred, suddenly aroused. Dola herself felt a mental touch, a nudge. Nothing physical intruded upon them: it was a push upon her aura, such as her mother might make to check upon her well-being when she thought Dola to be asleep. This familiar touch was not her mother’s but her father’s! He had to be close by. The evilness of this place prevented her from being able to feel things far off. She sensed it getting closer. Dola became very excited, knowing she was about to be saved, then was overwhelmingly frightened. His presence here meant Tay was risking himself for her, risking discovery and capture. He hadn’t been here before. He couldn’t know that these terrible men and woman were intelligent, and would block any attempt he made to free her. She might have to free herself in the meantime, and be ready to run away with him when he came. She cast around desperately for something heavy enough to break the glass.

  Asrai wriggled and started to fuss. Dola pleaded with her. “Oh, not now, little one! For the love of all, please, please don’t cry now!”

  She willed the baby to hold in the shriek she could feel growing inside her like bread rising. A yell would bring Jake or Skinny on the hop, and she didn’t want them near. Dola herself felt like screaming in frustration. Oh, if she never had to see them again, or spend another night in this smelly, cold room! Rescue was near. She could feel it.

  At the end of the passageway opposite to where all the men were running, Dola spotted a figure running, crouching, then running again, as if to avoid notice. When a knot of workers came around the corner, the figure threw itself among the dumpsters and burrowed behind the trash bags to avoid notice. It emerged again, moments after they passed, and resumed its furtive movement. Dola peered at it. Instead of the slim, muscular figure with silver hair, the intruder was unexpectedly tall and lanky, with hair the color of autumn maple leaves. Keith Doyle! Keith had come to rescue her. Dola saw that she could just get through the window if she broke it out. She had one chance at freedom, and all the odds lay in the element of surprise. First, she had to delay the guard that would surely come when she started breaking the glass. She jumped off the chair and put the baby down in a hastily arrayed nest of disposable diapers. Grabbing up her sleeping bag, Dola used the heavy cloth as a pad to shield her hands from the metal of the desk as she pushed it as far as she could toward the office door. Its feet groaned a protest that echoed up the corridor. Dola knew it would attract attention. Better to make double sure she had time to escape.

  Using as much concentration as she dared, she enhanced the cohesion of one part of the metal door frame for the other, willing them to stick together no matter what happened. She doubted it would hold together long on true metal, but it might earn her precious seconds. She grabbed Asrai in one arm, and picked up the body of the coffee maker in the other. Hefting it, she judged where the one strike she had would do the most good.

  Dola sprang up onto the chair. Almost across from her now, Keith stared around at the darkened windows of the nearly empty office wing, searching. She wound up and smashed the coffeemaker’s metal base into the window. The pane shattered outward, spraying fragments from a hole onl
y the size of her head. Dola began beating on the remaining shards of glass, hammering them into powder.

  “Keith Doyle!” she screamed.

  He turned and saw her in the tiny window, waving the plastic appliance through the hole. Her hand was bleeding and her face was pale, but she was alive and healthy.

  “Dola!”

  “Oh, hurry,” she begged. She glanced hurriedly over her shoulder. There was shouting and pounding in the room behind her. She dropped the plastic coffeemaker, and held a bundle out to him. He rushed to take it from her.

  “Hey, you!” a man’s voice yelled. A tall, lanky man dressed like the others in khaki coveralls but carrying a brown paper shopping bag ran down the narrow passage toward Keith. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” He dropped the bag on the ground and made straight for him.

  Keith reached for Dola, but jumped back when the man came at him. He tried to dodge around, and was cut off by a feint from his opponent. Dola pulled back, watching in alarm as Skinny took a swing at his head. Keith ducked, avoiding one punch, but taking the next squarely in the ribs. The breath was knocked out of him with a grunt, and he tripped backwards. Dola cringed, holding the swaddled Asrai up out of the way of the fighters. On the ground, Keith kicked at his opponent’s shins, making him dance backward. He scrambled back to his feet.

  Suddenly, in the shadow of the trashcans, Tay was there. He saw his daughter, and beamed. He signaled encouragement to her, and Dola felt the warmth of her parent’s presence, something she had missed for days. It filled her heart, giving her hope. Holl was nearby, too. She could feel his sense but not see him.

  “Open this damned door!”

  Behind her, Jake was trying to get in, and had discovered the block she had set in the frame. By the muffled double-thump sound, he and another person were throwing themselves against it to break it in. It was not a strong door; they’d be through it in a moment.

  “Hurry!” she called.

  Skinny had Keith Doyle in a wrestling hold, with one arm across his throat, and was slowly putting on pressure. The young man’s face had gone red. He was not doing well at freeing himself. Skinny easily evaded his weakening kicks and backwards-aimed punches. The factory worker shifted and increased the chokehold. Keith gasped and clawed at the other man’s arm, trying to pry it loose.

  In his hiding place, Tay flung his hands outward, throwing some kind of cantrip at Skinny.

  “Kick free!” he shouted to Keith Doyle. “It’ll be all right!” Keith nodded weakly, fought for a deep breath, and dropped limp. Skinny, puzzled, bent his head over Keith’s shoulder to see what was wrong.

  Behind Dola, the door splintered. Jake’s meaty arm reached through and felt at the handle, encountered the top of the desk. There was a lot of swearing in the hallway, and Dola heard the Boss-lady’s voice.

  “Break it down!” the woman shouted.

  With a tremendous heave, Keith shifted all his weight forward to get his feet back on the ground. Caught off guard, Skinny bent with him. Keith lifted one heel and brought it solidly down on his attacker’s instep, then when Skinny’s grip relaxed a fraction, stepped to one side and attempted to throw him over his hip. He struggled unsuccessfully for a moment, looking confused.

  “He’s fixed in place,” Tay hissed. “Get away, then!”

  Keith’s face lit up as he realized his advantage. Making a knot of his hands, he shot one elbow backward into Skinny’s stomach. The factory man doubled up for a moment, and lost his grip on Keith. The student danced away, and Skinny grabbed for him. With wildly flailing hands, Skinny toppled over forward, and hung there at a ridiculous 45-degree angle. His feet were fixed to the ground. Keith danced in, ready to paste Skinny another punch in the mouth, but Tay called out to him.

  “It won’t hold long in this mess. Hurry!”

  Avoiding the man’s grasp with an agility that would have done credit to a gymnast, Keith dashed to the window and put up an arm to help Dola out. She thrust the bundled-up infant into his hands and prepared to scramble out after it.

  The door of the room burst apart, and Jake, carrying an axe, half-crawled, half-scrambled over the desk. Dola glanced back, and in so doing lost her advantage of surprise. She was partway out the casement when Jake grabbed her by the neck of her tunic and hauled her back.

  “Go!” she cried to the others, almost sobbing in frustration. “Run!”

  Keith gave her a startled glance, noticed the other faces in the window, and took to his heels, clutching Asrai. Tay and Holl were right behind him.

  “It’s that Doyle boy!” the boss-woman shrieked. “I knew he was tied up with that H. Doyle! He lied to me! How did they get in here? Where was security?” she demanded. “They should have stopped them at the gates.” Jake shook his head, his lips pressed together.

  She dropped to her knees beside Dola. “Look, she’s bleeding.” The angry brusqueness of her voice didn’t mask the compassion underlying it, but it was small comfort to Dola. “Get some bandages. Move it!” The woman clenched Dola’s shoulder and shook her gently, holding back from hurting her but evidently frustrated. “I hope you realize you’ve just made things more complicated. Thanks a lot.”

  “I’ll not apologize,” Dola said, tears running down her face. She was too frustrated to feel brave. “I’d do it again, too.” I wish them well away, she thought.

  Keith and the others pounded into the driveway just as the red pickup truck rolled onto the factory grounds. One handed, Keith scrabbled at the door handle, yanked it open, and threw himself inside. Tay and Holl all but jumped through the window after him into the truck cab. Together, they pulled the door to. The men in the back of the truck stared at them, and one pounded on the window for attention.

  “What’s going on?” Murphy asked, recoiling from contact with Keith’s flailing elbows.

  “Turn around,” Keith panted. “Drive us out of here.”

  Across the field, Frank, free for a moment from expostulating with guards and factory workers as they squeezed the colorful envelope into a sausage and tucked it into its storage bag, gestured at them violently, away. Murphy didn’t wait for further explanation. With his chin rammed into his shoulder, he spun the pickup backward in a wide are, spraying gravel, and gunned the engine. The truck roared out of the compound.

  “Who the hell was that?” one of the guards asked Frank.

  “Hey, man, if you saw something this big floating around on the ground, you’d think there was a circus here, too. Happens all the time,” Frank said nonchalantly. “People come to look, just look. Ought to come up for a flight some time. Reasonable rates.” He reached underneath the control panel for a handful of flyers and handed them to the bemused guard.

  Strangers were trying to take his fairy child away! Frantic, Pilton pulled at his trapped feet. The man who had broken the office window somehow put a whammy on him while he reached in and took away the baby while Pilton’s grabs for him fell yards short. Fortunately Jake and Ms. Gilbreth stopped the fairy child before she could climb out, too. It would have broken his luck.

  He had to get the baby back. Yelling for help, he swung himself into a standing position, tugging at first one boot, then the other to pull loose. No one paid any attention to him. Suddenly, he toppled over, his arms windmilling wildly, and fell with a thud to the dirt. His feet had been freed suddenly from their unexplained adhesion to the ground. Not stopping to wonder how or why, he scrambled up and ran yelling after the man and two boys. He saw them leap into the red truck.

  “Hey, you guys!” he shouted at the crowd gathered around the balloonist and his gear. “Stop them!” He was just in time to see the truck disappear down the road in a cloud of dust. His shoulders drooped. Half his luck was gone.

  He started walking back toward the building as Ms. Gilbreth and Jake came out of it. The boss-lady’s face was drained white, and she looked mad enough to spit nails.

  “They’re gone,” Pilton said unnecessarily.

  The truck hurtled dow
n the country road. Keith clasped the bundle closely. It was wriggling, but silent. As soon as he was sure they were out of danger, he relaxed a little, but kept an eye on the rear view mirror for anyone in pursuit.

  “It’s a shame we couldn’t get Dola out of there,” Tay said, slamming his small fist against the side window. His pulse had started to slow down after the lightning raid on the factory complex.

  “She’s okay, though,” Keith said.

  “Aye, that’s comfort,” Tay agreed, slewing his gaze moodily around toward Keith. “What have you got there?”

  Keith turned to Holl, whose eyes were shining when he realized they had not come away empty handed. “It’s yours, I think,” he said. He extended the bundle in his hands to Holl.

  “Asrai,” Holl said, hardly daring to believe it. “That brave, heroic girl saw her chance and used it to free one of them, at least.” He took the small armful from Keith, and tenderly raised the fold of blanket over his daughter’s face.

  “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!” The moment she was exposed, Asrai let out a tremendous wail of protest. It packed such force and volume that it knocked the three men backward in the truck seat.

  “My God!” exclaimed the driver, putting a finger in his right ear and wiggling it to restore his hearing. “What lungs that kid has!”

  “Like taking the cork out of a bottle,” Keith said, with respect. Asrai took another deep breath and broke into sobs, all but vibrating the truck’s metal panels with each outburst. “Wow. She was saving that all up. Probably for days.”

  Holl looked shaken. “It’s good to have her back again, and normal,” he said, though he sounded doubtful. He lifted his hands out from underneath her one by one. “And she’s wet.”

  Keith started laughing, half from relief, and half from the expression on Holl’s face. The others joined in, Holl reluctantly at first, then with greater heart.

  “I feel better,” Tay said, heaving a deep sigh and settling back in the seat. “Dola’s well, and shrewd as ever. Her mother won’t be best pleased we missed bringing her home as well.”