by Tom Hoffman
“This is an old and dear childhood friend of mine. Do you recognize her?”
It was like watching a snowman melt on a warm spring day.
“She is my sister, Clara Rabbit.”
“Do you know where she is?”
Oliver’s eyes filled with a sadness Bartholomew had never seen in him before. He set down the operator’s manual and said, “I will tell you all I know. Please understand these are painful memories, and it is very difficult for me to speak of them.”
Bartholomew slid a chair over to Oliver, who nodded his thanks and sat down.
“When I mentioned I had lived in Lepus Hollow, there was a great deal I left out. In the summer before Clara’s last year of school, our parents separated. It was devastating for all of us. My sister Sophie and I were older and went with our father. Clara, being the youngest, left with our mother. I never heard from them again and neither did Sophie. My father would never speak of them, something which bothered me greatly. I know now it was as painful for him as it was for me, but his manner of expressing grief was not the same as mine. Several years ago while I was looking for some papers in his study, I came upon a letter my mother had written to him the year after they separated. She and Clara were living on a small farm. The only clue to the farm’s location was some sort of tree which was covered with eyes. I searched for two years with no success. I could find no reference anywhere to a tree of this description. I can only imagine that my mother simply did not wish to be found and invented a fictitious location.” He paused. “This is the unsolved puzzle I live with every day.”
There was a heavy silence in the room. Bartholomew put his paw on Oliver’s shoulder. “Oliver, I have seen this Tree of Eyes. I have touched it. I know where it is. We can find Clara.”
The look on Oliver’s face was something Bartholomew would remember the rest of his life.
Once he had gotten over the shock of this revelation, Oliver could not stop talking about Clara. “To think I may see dear Clara again! I am simply astonished that you have been to the Tree of Eyes. And that photograph of Clara, right on the table where I could see it! Great heavens, just imagine if I had not come to visit, or if I had not met you in the Swamp of Lost Things. How astonishing that those awful Skeezle brothers played a part in leading us towards Clara. It is mind-bogglingly fantastic to think about. It’s all so very curious. It certainly makes one wonder about fate and divine guidance. Perhaps there were angels looking out for us.” He looked slightly embarrassed, as though he expected Bartholomew to laugh.
“Or suppose I had not answered your knock on the door?” Bartholomew tried to erase the memory of himself hiding under the table laughing. “Oliver, I suspect you might be right about some sort of invisible guidance from beyond. It seems to me there are far too many coincidences for it all to be chance.”
Bartholomew heard the Cavern of Silence snort. “What? Do you mean to say this is not simply a series of random events combining with your excessively vivid imagination?”
They spent the rest of the day planning their search for Clara.
“I can take the train home in the morning and inform my supervisor of these recent events. He is an old and trusted friend, and when he hears about Clara he will have no objections to my extended leave. Once gear and provisions are packed, I shall return on the next train.”
Bartholomew added, “Parfello and I will draw up maps of the fastest route to the Tree of Eyes. There are no trains, so be certain to bring stout walking shoes. It could take several weeks for us to reach the tree. After that we are on our own trying to find Clara’s farm.” He thought carefully about how to phrase his next words. “Oliver, the Tree of Eyes is something more than an ordinary tree. There is a chance it may be able to offer us assistance in finding Clara. It’s rather complicated, but once you see the tree I think it will become much clearer to you.”
Oliver gave a quizzical look but said, “Bartholomew, in this matter I shall follow your lead. Without you, I never would have had this chance to find Clara. Once again, I am in your debt.”
Chapter 4
The Search Begins
Four days later Bartholomew met Oliver at the Lepus Hollow train station.
“I trust you had a comfortable trip?”
“Quite so. Not to mention a lovely glass or two of a delightful wine.” He laughed, then looked slightly embarrassed. “Of course I take no stock in such things, but as I napped on the train I had quite an unusual dream. It was about Clara, and was quite startling in its clarity – as though I were standing there in front of her. I was on a simply lovely island with Clara facing me. She smiled and said, “I am counting the days until I see you.” He stopped, looking for signs of mockery on Bartholomew’s face. There was none, and he continued, “I wrote down what she said next for fear I would forget it.” He took out a crumpled piece of paper and began to read.
“Every atom, every molecule, and every bouncing marble is exactly where it should be at every moment in time.”
After Oliver had gone to bed, Bartholomew sat in the drawing room warming his paws by the stone fireplace.
“Cavern, who set this chain of events in motion? Did it start recently or was it long ago?”
“Bartholomew, the universe is infinite in size and infinite in depth. It is made up of dreams within dreams, worlds within worlds, and selves within selves. There are more forces at work here than you can know, but that knowledge is for another day. Now it is time to begin the search for Clara. I will warn you, however, finding her will be far more difficult than you can possibly imagine, and when this grand adventure is done, you will not be the same rabbit you are now.”
There was a great flurry of activity the next morning as Bartholomew and Oliver prepared for their trip. Bartholomew carried only his adventurer’s pack. It had served him well and he had grown quite fond of it. Oliver, on the other paw, had far different priorities. Sitting on the street in front of Bartholomew’s house was a large three-wheeled metal wagon. Its wheels were coated with a thick layer of a dark substance resembling rubber. Strapped securely in the wagon was a towering stack of crates, boxes, and oddly shaped packages. Bartholomew stared in disbelief at the immense mound of gear and supplies.
“What in the world is all this?”
“These are the necessary supplies we must bring with us on our search for Clara.”
Bartholomew gave Oliver the look he would give to a bunny who was building a wooden ship to carry him to the moon. “And you have a team of twelve horses to pull this colossal wagon?”
Oliver mirrored the look he had received from Bartholomew. “A team of twelve horses? That would be an extremely inefficient way to move a wagon such as this. Think of all the food we would have to carry just to feed the horses, not to mention the water they would need. I have something far better. Using parts from a Prototype Mark III Electro-Vacuumator, I have constructed a duplonium powered steam motor which propels the wagon at speeds of up to ten miles in a single hour. I don’t imagine we shall be walking any faster than that. Really, Bartholomew, you should take more of an interest in science. Horses, indeed.” Oliver laughed his great booming laugh and then grinned. “Do you like it?”
Bartholomew was clearly dubious. “How does it work?”
“Lift up the handle and try to pull it.”
Bartholomew walked around to the front of the wagon and lifted the long metal handle resting on the ground. He tentatively gave the wagon a light tug. It moved forward effortlessly with a hissing noise. His eyebrows raised slightly and he tried again. This time he pulled it to an incline in the road and attempted to pull it up the hill. It moved up the slope with absolutely no effort, matching Bartholomew’s pace precisely. He turned the wagon around, guiding it back to Oliver.
“I believe I have underestimated you, Oliver T. Rabbit. This is truly a miracle.”
Oliver gave an exaggerated frown. “There are no miracles, only science.”
Bartholomew smiled. “If you say so.”<
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Several hours later they were on their way. Oliver pulled the duplonium powered wagon behind him while Bartholomew studied the maps, giving directions when the path ahead became uncertain. Along the way they chatted about all manner of topics. Bartholomew was learning there was a great deal more to Oliver than just his position with the Excelsior Corporation.
“Since I was a small bunny I have been enormously interested in scientific matters. It’s quite fascinating to observe the world and try to understand how all the parts and pieces work together in such perfect harmony. How do birds fly? How do fish swim? It may sound rather cold, but the bodies of these creatures are nothing more than well-designed pieces of organic machinery. Nature is the greatest inventor of all, and I am simply trying to copy or modify her existing creations. Of course, much of her invention is beyond my scientific understanding, but it’s still science. Did you know that with our known laws of physical motion it should be impossible for a bumblebee to fly? And yet, every day I see the little devils flying about my yard, mocking my inadequate scientific knowledge.” He laughed.
They gradually fell into a routine on their journey. Each night they would set up camp, and thanks to the duplonium wagon there was a comfortable tent to sleep in and hot meals for dinner. It soon became clear that Oliver was quite adept at cooking, a fact which did not surprise Bartholomew at all. In the morning they packed all their gear back into the wagon and continued on their way.
When they reached the mountain range, Bartholomew told Oliver about the deadly frigid mountain pass and his decision to avoid it. They turned west towards the narrow valley which cut through the mountains, paralleling the pass. Bartholomew listened to the quiet hiss of the wagon as it effortlessly moved up and down the hills of this rugged terrain. He might have to revise his current definition of miracles.
As they walked through the valley, they continued their long and sometimes ardent discussions. Some were weighty and some were not. Oliver was in the middle of a long dissertation on the proper way to cook the cream filling used in éclairs when he stopped, looking off into the distance. There was a small speck in the sky flying along the mountains that lined the valley. “That can’t be a bird. At this distance I wouldn’t be able to spot it. It has to be something much larger. I have no idea what it could be though.” They both watched curiously as it slowly circled over the lower mountain peaks, then turned towards the center of the valley, gradually veering over in their general direction. “I think it might be heading this way.”
“Excellent. We shall get a much clearer view of it. I do hope I shall be able to identify it, although no specific creature springs to mind at this moment. Perhaps it’s a large vulture of some kind.”
Bartholomew was not quite as enthusiastic about the approaching creature. He kept his eyes focused on the beast as it moved towards them. He could make out a huge pair of wings, but their motion didn’t resemble that of a normal bird. It seemed to glide for a long distance, then slowly flap its colossal wings until its speed had increased enough for it to glide again. As it approached them it gradually gained altitude until finally it was circling high overhead.
Oliver shielded his eyes from the sun with one paw as he watched the creature soaring far above them. “This is amazing – it is more than amazing, it is astonishing. I believe I know what this is, although I fear my own senses are deceiving me. I spent one summer at the Lapinoric Museum of Natural History, studying all manner of prehistoric fossils and the remnants of long forgotten ancient civilizations. What you are looking at is a living pterosaur, though far larger than any of the fossilized skeletons at the museum. It is impossible, and yet it soars in the sky above us. These creatures lived and died over two hundred and fifty million years ago.” Oliver’s gaze never left the pterosaur.
Without warning the creature pulled in its wings and entered a steep dive, its speed increasing dramatically. It was shooting straight down towards Bartholomew and Oliver.
Bartholomew shouted, “Get under the wagon! We have become its prey!”
Chapter 5
Prey for the Pterosaurs
“How odd, I would not have supposed that a pterosaur would–”
“Oliver, get under the wagon now!”
Oliver abruptly realized the gravity of the situation and hastily rolled beneath the wagon, joining Bartholomew. Moments later the pterosaur passed mere feet above them, traveling at an incredible velocity. They could hear the roar of the wind from its gigantic wings. It shrieked loudly and headed back up into the sky, slowly circling around as it gained altitude for another dive.
Bartholomew thought out loud. “We have no defense against a creature like this. If it stops its diving attacks and lands next to us, we are doomed. It will simply reach under the wagon with its huge claws and pluck us out, one by one. We can’t possibly run away, as it clearly flies faster than we could ever travel on foot.”
“That’s it! You’ve got it, Bartholomew. We can’t outrun it on foot, but we can outrun the creature with the duplonium wagon!”
“How? We have to pull the wagon behind us. We can’t run faster than the pterosaur.”
“Have faith in the miracles of science, my friend. There are a few small details about the wagon which I failed to mention previously.”
“Small details?”
“After the pterosaur makes its next pass, jump into the back of the wagon and strap yourself in as tightly as possible. This is going to be a rough ride, and I hope it’s not our last. I so dearly want to see Clara once more before I leave this world.”
“Don’t talk like that. We’ll find her. What happens after I’m strapped in?”
“You will know soon enough, my good friend!”
The pterosaur shrieked and roared past a second time, its claws scraping wildly against the side of the metal wagon. Its hideous cry was filled with rage and frustration at its second failed attempt to snatch them out from under the wagon.
Immediately after its pass they rolled out and leaped to their feet. Bartholomew scrambled into the back of the wagon and tied himself securely in. Oliver ran to the front and flipped the long handle up and backwards, latching it to the top of the wagon. He climbed between several of the crates in front and flipped open a small panel, calling out to Bartholomew, “I am switching off the regulator now. That’s what limits the speed of the wagon. It’s capable of traveling at far greater speeds, but since we decided to walk, I thought–”
“Just do it! The creature will be diving again at any moment!”
Oliver flipped a small yellow lever and turned a red dial to the right. The wagon began to move forward, its speed increasing rapidly with each passing moment.
“We’re moving now! I believe our maximum velocity will be close to forty miles in one hour. We should easily be able to outdistance the pterosaur at that rate.”
“How do you steer it?” Bartholomew managed to shout out the question over the bumping and crashing of the crates and boxes. The wind was howling around him now as the wagon sped forward at ever increasing velocity.
“Steer it? I’m afraid that’s quite impossible at this time. I hadn’t planned on an event such as this and in my eagerness to get the wagon ready for–” His voice was drowned out by the roaring wind and the wild creaking and rattling of the wagon in its frenetic race across the rocky plain. Bartholomew hung onto the careening wagon with all his might. He was not thinking, he was only reacting, driven solely by his instinct for self preservation. In the midst of all this he heard Cavern’s quiet voice. “How’s this for an adventure?” Bartholomew howled uncontrollably with a manic laughter.
After many jarring and jolting minutes, Oliver turned the red dial to the left and their speed decreased. Eventually the wagon creaked to a halt. Bartholomew could hardly move, but turned and looked behind them. The pterosaur was heading back to the mountains on the far side of the valley. Bartholomew untied his ropes and climbed painfully out of the wagon. “Good heavens, I feel as though I have spent
an hour in one of those mechanical paint can shakers. I’m not certain my bones are connected properly anymore.”
Oliver closed his eyes and leaned back in the wagon. “This is adventuring business is quite exhausting, I must say.” When he opened his eyes again he let out a blood curdling scream. A gigantic pterosaur was streaking down from the sky directly towards the wagon. Bartholomew turned just in time to see the creature’s enormous talons grab the entire wagon, including Oliver, and carry it off into the sky. There had been two pterosaurs, not just one. The second one had circled around behind them while the first one distracted them with its false attack.
Bartholomew could do nothing except chase after the fleeing pterosaur. It was flying back towards the area where Oliver had first spotted them. Oliver’s cries for help were barely audible now, and Bartholomew shuddered to think what might be in store for his friend. As he ran after Oliver he tried to think of something he could use as a weapon against the pterosaurs, but everything they had was in the wagon. He realized he was still holding the rope he had used to tie himself to the duplonium wagon. That was at least something. It might come in handy if he had to do any climbing to reach Oliver.
Bartholomew dashed across the wide plain towards the mountainside where the pterosaurs lived. He watched closely as the pterosaur descended behind a group of trees, noting to himself several prominent landmarks. Fortunately, it had landed below the tree line, which meant it would be easily accessible, and the dense grouping of trees might provide some protection from the pterosaurs.
