The boy, however, wasn’t about to be outboxed by a penny. He slapped again at the coin, first with his right, and then with his left. Pete hopped, ducked, and bucked, evading the boxer’s blows.
Next came a series of rabbit punches. The rapid drumming sent Pete bouncing into the air. Each time he came down on his back, he immediately rebounded onto his rim.
“Come on, champ,” Pete taunted. “You can do better than that.”
The boy couldn’t hear Pete, but he thought the whole thing comical and laughed uproariously. He slammed his fist onto the table and sent Pete skyward. To the boy’s astonished eyes, the penny seemed to almost hover in midair, twisting and turning like a trampoline artist.
Pete landed with all the grace of a gymnast nailing a perfect dismount. He smiled and took a little bow.
The boy opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish, and blinked. He darted out his hand to snatch the penny, but Pete backflipped out of the way.
Pete danced, shuffled, gyrated, and shook his fanny. “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee; your hands can’t hit what your eyes can’t see!”
The boy drew back and gawked at the marvelous penny. “What are you doing, penny?”
“I learned these moves from a cute little dime named Darla,” Pete said.
He skated towards the back of the desk near one of the stacks of schoolbooks and began to bob and sway.
The boy leaned in. He was almost nose-to-nose with the penny. “Now what are you doing?”
“I call this rope-a-dope, brother,” Pete answered. “The stack behind me is the rope, and you’re the dope!”
The youth glared at the penny. He couldn’t hear Pete, but he felt certain the coin was mocking him. He swept his hand towards the penny and thwacked him skimming towards the edge of the table.
“Oh, no you don’t,” the youth said. He dropped his open hand at the table’s edge blocking the penny’s escape.
Pete smacked into the boy’s palm, but he wheeled away before the kid slammed it shut. Pete reversed course and hightailed it back across the desk.
“You can run but you can’t hide,” the boy laughed.
A side glance informed Pete of a gulch between the two stacks of textbooks. At the end of the valley he saw a narrow gap that separated the desk from the wall. He swung around and scampered for the canyon.
A terrific hammer blow bounced Pete into the air. As he somersaulted he saw a blue pool spread below him.
“Aw, man,” groaned the youth. He stared at the ink on the bottom of his fist.
Before the boy could finish his fight, or wipe away the ink from his smashed fountain pen, his father barged into the room.
“Cassius Marcellus Clay Jr., what on God’s earth are you doing in here?”
The boy turned and grimaced. What could he say? He glanced at the penny. It lay heads-up, flat and still as a button in the puddle of ink.
“I…um…”
His father strode into the room and loomed over him. He noted the cleared desk, the broken pen and pooling ink, and the penny. “What’s that thing?”
“A lucky penny.”
“What’s so lucky about it? It looks like it hasn’t seen a day’s luck since it was minted.”
Cassius shrugged. He couldn’t disagree. It was one ugly penny.
Mr. Clay withdrew a sheet of paper from his back pocket. “And what’s this?” He snapped at a big red ‘D’ with a flick of his finger.
The boy swallowed hard and lowered his eyes. He noticed his blue-stained hand and ran it down the top of his jeans.
“And you call yourself the greatest? A ‘D,’ boy. You know what ‘D’ stands for, don’t you? Dope!”
“I said I was the greatest; I never said I was the smartest.”
A tall, lanky youth and a pretty girl in a blue dress stepped into the frame of the doorway.
At the sight of the girl, Cassius’s eyes widened and a handsome smile splurted across his face.
“Hello, Mr. Clay,” the youth said.
“Hello, Leroy,” Mr. Clay answered gruffly.
“C’mon, Cassius. We don’t want to miss the previews.”
“Hi, Louise,” Cassius said.
The girl smiled shyly and looked down at her feet.
“Sorry, Leroy,” Mr. Clay said, “but ‘the greatest’ ain’t going anywhere unless he finished his homework.” He glared down at his son. “Did you, boy?”
“I did, Pop.” He grabbed a book from the stack, opened it, and whipped out two lined pages of writing. “See?”
“I see a bunch of chicken scratches,” his father answered. “Didn’t you get math homework too?”
Cassius flipped open his notebook and showed his father his assignment. “I answered every problem but number six.”
Leroy said, “Don’t worry, Mr. Clay. When we get back I promise I’ll teach him. I know how to do it.”
“Okay,” Mr. Clay said. “Go on. Get out of here.” He headed for the door, Leroy and Louise parting for him like waters of the Red Sea did for Moses.
“Are you ready?” Leroy asked.
“Yeah.” Cassius stood and made for the door. He paused and glanced back at his desk.
He returned to his desk, set his hands down on it and leaned over. “Stay put, penny. I’ll be back later for round two.” He winked.
Pete winked back.
Leroy said, “Let’s go already, Clay.”
When the boy returned home later that day, the first thing he did was to check on the penny. The ink was still there, but the penny wasn’t. He doubted anyone had swiped it, and wondered if he hadn’t dreamed the whole thing. Maybe he had taken too many punches to the head at the gym and was losing his marbles?
Then he noticed a thin blue line trailing from the puddle. He traced it with his eyes. It led to his open three-ringed notebook.
“Aw, man,” he grumbled. His homework was ruined and he’d have to do it all over again. Someone, or something, had scribbled all over it.
He ripped out the page and held it closer. In blue ink, and he had to admit, with a penmanship better than his own, the boy read:
Dear Greatest,
I’m sorry I couldn’t stick around. Like you, I have big dreams too.
I hope you will always remember that the man who has no imagination has no wings, and that he who is not courageous enough to take risks will accomplish nothing in life.
You are the greatest, Champ; and if you say it enough, you will convince the world. If your mind can conceive it, and your heart can believe it—then you can achieve it.
Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they’ve been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact; it’s an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration; it’s a dare. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing.
Your pal, Pete Penny
4
vision quests
July 1958 — Coin Island, Mount Cashmore
Deirdre Dime gave Chief Iron Tail a nudge and glanced skywards. “Incoming.”
The chief squinted at the approach of a formation of eagle-backed Washington quarters, Liberty half dollars, and silver dollars. As the squadron neared, he blew a sigh of relief. He had become adept at recognizing the different coins by their manner of flight, and he could distinguish Hannah Half Dollar’s graceful dipping and gliding from that of the others. He also knew that Hannah was The Four’s primary pilot.
Deirdre recognized the relieved expression on the chief’s face, and smiled. Still, The Four wasn’t scheduled to return to Coin Island until the following month. It seemed to her that the chief had been expecting him.
Brave Two Loons said, “That’s a sight that I never tire of. “One, two, three…seven…ten…twelve…fifteen eagles plus their packages.”
Each eagle carried a coin in one talon, and in the other some object or artifact that could prove helpful to the island’s development or fortifications.
&n
bsp; “And just think,” Deirdre said, “all of our bullion bases see similar formations every day.”
“It’s a start,” the chief said.
Deirdre and Two Loons exchanged knowing smirks. The chief was never satisfied.
Deirdre said, “We need a new reentry pattern. The squadrons have grown too large and are going to attract attention.”
Two Loons agreed. “They look like a swarm of butterflies. Even The Hugh man seems concerned.”
The chief and Deirdre looked to shore and saw that Hugh Stewards had stood and was watching the squadron fly overhead. The man shook his head, and cane in hand, hobbled to the water’s edge. He pulled up a pair of binoculars that hung from his neck and observed the silvery eagles circle the island and merge into a single-file formation.
“He still makes me nervous,” the chief said.
“The Hugh has been watching us for four years and hasn’t done anything,” Deirdre said. “If he meant us harm, don’t you think he’d have tried something by now?”
“He’s a human,” the chief said. “Humans can’t be trusted.”
“They aren’t all bad, Chief Worrywart.”
“He didn’t show for two weeks,” Two Loons said. “I’ll admit I was a little worried.”
“You think he’s planning something?” Deirdre asked.
“No, but I missed him. I feel a little sorry for the guy.”
“Bah,” the chief snorted. “Remember, the humans are out to get us. Most don’t know that now, but in time, they aim at our extinction. The visions don’t lie. There are powerful people who despise all that we stand for. Don’t kid yourselves.”
Deirdre said, “Two Loons, you are head of island security. You are monitoring The Hugh, are you not?”
“I have a team of Lincolns watching him at all times. We think he’s on our side.”
Deirdre arched a skeptical eyebrow. “People don’t know we have a side.”
“When strangers or children come snooping about, The Hugh shoos them away,” Two Loons said.
“Why would he do that?” Deirdre asked. “The park doesn’t belong to him.”
“He seems to think so.”
“And the binoculars?”
“Those are new, but we doubt he can see much. Too many shrubs and weeds, and we are small.”
The chief said, “He might not be able to see us, but if he is observant, he can see that the island is changing. Look around, we’ve built and expanded a lot over the years—the airstrip, Coinhenge, the walls and ramparts, the towers, the stadium training grounds, and Camp Coin is five times the size too. Besides, he surely knows we fly in and out of here.”
The coins pivoted and watched the eagles come in for landing. As they approached the airstrip, the pilots dropped their passengers and loads on a mossy field in front of the runway.
The moss field was installed to break the falls of passengers and parcels. The chief had ordered the island’s engineers to construct the field after too many mishaps.
In one case, an 1889 Morgan silver dollar had bounced off the hard earth and tumbled down the hill into Camp Coin destroying everything in its path.
In another, more misfortunate accident, an 1828 Capped Bust dime smacked a rock, toppled off the island, and splashed into the lake. A cruising catfish sucked her right up. It was a great loss, as dimes with eagles on the reverse were hard to come by. The sea monsters seemed to sense the islands growing population, and carp and catfish constantly patrolled the coasts in hopes of catching an inattentive coin off guard.
“Let’s go see what news The Four brings from the front lines,” the chief said. He wheeled and headed down the mountain.
The path to the top of Mount Cashmore was another island improvement. Coin engineers had cleared the obstacles, added switchbacks, and smoothed the surface of the path. Ascending and descending the mountain became much easier and took half the time as before.
As they bucked down, Two Loons said, “I saw a few silver dollars among the passengers. Do you think the Peace Dollar was among them?”
“I hope so,” the chief said. “The sooner The Four locates that lady, the sooner he can concentrate on the real mission.”
“Agreed,” Deirdre said, “but you have to admit that Ned has kept his end of the bargain. Recruitment is on schedule and he’s helped to establish four of the six bullion bases. His search has also provided a lot of intel.”
The chief didn’t reply.
Two Loons said, “Still no word from the penny?”
“CBS is monitored around the clock now,” Deirdre said. “Pete has yet to check in.”
“The penny will show his ugly mug,” the chief said confidently.
“I know he’s as street savvy as a coin comes,” Deirdre said, “but sixteen months is a long time. We know a coin can end stored in a piggy bank or forgotten in some zipped up suitcase for a decade.”
“He’ll show,” the chief repeated with finality.
The three coins arrived at the moss field and approached Leo Lincoln, the first coin to befriend Pete Penny some four years back. Two Loons had appointed the industrious penny as chief supervisor of island development after Leo had distinguished himself with some innovative ideas. Among his many duties was the handling of new arrivals and shipments.
“Don’t worry,” Leo assured one of the new arrivals, a stunned and bug-eyed Liberty quarter. “In a few weeks you’ll be bucking and rolling with the best of us.”
The newbie quarter’s eyes darted left and right. In every direction she saw coins rambling and roving of their own volition. And, oh my God, were those…beetles?! And then she fainted.
Leo laughed and took notice of a team of Lincolns maneuvering some of the newly arrived merchandise onto a sled made from the tongue of a leather shoe. A big, lumbering, shiny black beetle with kite string tied to its horns dragged the sled.
Transporting things on the island had been one of the coins’ biggest challenges. The eagle coins could do a lot of the lifting and carrying, but they resented the work. Flight required a runway and the island only had one. When the coins worked at other parts of the island there was nowhere smooth or long enough to take off, which meant having to remain aloft for hours at a time.
Using beetles as bulldozers and tractors was Leo’s idea. The others mocked him when he came up with it, except for Pete Penny, who believed nothing was impossible. Leo thought the world of Pete, and Pete’s faith in him was good enough for Leo Lincoln.
Thus encouraged, Leo pursued his crazy plan in private. At the time, he knew of only one beetle on the island, a black, horned beetle that hung out in the duff under the maple tree. The beetle was slow and not too bright, but Leo found it easy to train.
When Leo Lincoln unveiled his discovery to the others, they gaped in astonishment. The bug could carry hundreds of times its own weight! Leo insisted that with teams of such beetles they could cut their workloads in half and accomplish in days what used to take weeks. The island only had one beetle, however, which meant they had to import them.
Cody Quarter volunteered to lead a special squadron of hunter eagles to capture more of the bugs. To his good fortune, Cody found that the creatures enjoyed the woods at the other end of the lake. Within a few weeks, Cody and his team rounded up two dozen beetles, which Leo immediately set to training. Ever since, the six-legged bulldozers could be seen trudging about the island during the daytime. Evenings they spent in a corral that Leo built for them so they wouldn’t go wandering off.
“Careful with that stuff,” Leo shouted to a couple of fellow Lincolns nudging items onto a sled made from Popsicle sticks. He walked over to examine the haul. On the sled he saw fragments of a broken mirror, a marble, two long rusty nails, five soda bottle caps, shards of glass, and a spring. He nodded approvingly.
Director Deirdre bucked up and said, “Leo, we aren’t operating a junkyard here, you know?”
“Ma’am, this stuff might come in handy one day. Besides, I’m way ahead of you. My Coi
n Army Corps of Engineers and I are excavating on the west side of the island. In a month or so I’ll have a series of caverns carved out where we can store all this stuff. I’ll even have a stocking system so that we can find what we need fast and easy.”
Two Loons chuckled. “I knew I hired the right penny.”
The chief asked Leo, “Have you seen The Four?”
“As soon as he landed he raced over to Coinhenge.”
“Did a Peace Dollar come in with him?”
“Some silver dollars, but no Peace Dollar that I saw.”
The chief frowned. He turned and headed for Coinhenge, which housed CBS, the Coin Broadcasting System. Deirdre and Two Loons followed after him.
When the coins arrived they saw Ned peering into the sacred reflecting pool.
A team of engineers constructed the pool from a small Styrofoam bowl. They buried the container up to its rim so that they could easily gaze into it. There was usually enough rainwater to keep it filled, but when there wasn’t, beetle-drawn sleds with bottle caps of water filled from the lake were brought to replenish it. The bowl came from the snack bar at the far end of the park and had been used for onion rings. The wind blew it onto the lake, and it eventually washed ashore Coin Island. The island had a crew of Lincolns that daily scavenged the shoreline for beached items the coins might find useful.
The sacred fire was still offline. Because Coin Island was inside a city park, the coins didn’t want to chance drawing attention to themselves. All the other bullion bases, however, were established in remote wilderness areas and so employed both types of transceivers ever since Harper the Benjamin Franklin Half Dollar hit upon the idea of setting up a magnifying glass to light the fires.
Scrounging patrols obtained candlewicks, olive oil, and magnifying glasses from city dumps. Big lenses were too heavy to carry, but eventually they found small ones that four or five eagles flying in tandem could lug to base. Coin engineers were then able to rig a system to light and maintain the fires.
Coinworld [Book Two] Page 4
