Jicky Jack and the Ominous Promise

by C. D. Bryan

  “Shh . . . listen,” whispered J.R. “Did you hear that? It sounds like—”

  “Like someone’s laughing,” whined Thomas.

  The three of them listened.

  “Aw . . . come on, take the creek back. I dare you,” said a deep bellowing voice that filled the valley. “I told you we weren’t finished yet, kid.” More laughter followed.

  Pip shrieked as the three of them looked at one another.

  “The collector guy, now what?” they all yelled in unison.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Through Mountain Walls are Inner Halls

  “Run,” said J.R. who took off running deeper into the valley.

  Pip and Thomas hesitated for a moment, standing still looking at one another.

  J.R. glanced back and stopped. “What are you doing?” he yelled as his thoughts rolled back to what the journal had printed earlier. Others lurk in the darkness, waiting to rob you of what you hold. “Come on, hurry.”

  “No, go ahead and stand there,” bellowed the deep voice as it began laughing again.

  Pip and Thomas looked at J.R. then again at one another other before kicking up pine needles as they raced to catch up.

  “J.R.,” Thomas yelled ahead. “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know, Thomas,” J.R. yelled back. “Just keep running.”

  J.R. could hear the sound of water so he knew they were still close to the creek. Then he saw the destructive path of crushed trees. The boulder, he thought.

  The boulder’s momentum had apparently been too great, causing it to miss the bend in the creek’s path.

  “Come on,” yelled J.R., running down the boulder’s path, “this way.”

  “No,” yelled Thomas trying to catch his breath, “what if it’s a dead end?”

  J.R. looked back at Thomas then surveyed the view ahead as he neared the valley wall. He had hoped they could follow the valley wall further along as a way out. But, it was indeed, a dead end all right. The boulder had smashed into the valley wall, leaving a sizeable dent then rolled back to a dead stop. It blocked any space for escape between the wall and the thick trees.

  “Okay, not good,” said J.R., stopping to face Pip and Thomas, “any thoughts?”

  “Only about the most important one,” answered Thomas, his voice shaking and fatigued.

  “What’s that?” said J.R.

  “What we’re gonna do now,” answered Thomas, pointing at a figure heading toward them down the boulder’s destructive path.

  The three of them backed up against the dent left in the valley wall from the boulder’s impact.

  “Looks like this is the end for you and your friends, kid,” bellowed the Collector who was nearly upon them.

  “J.R.” said Pip, her voice beginning to tremble. “Use your watch.”

  J.R. pulled out the pocket watch and clicked the lid open. And nothing happened.

  Pip looked at J.R. in great earnest. “What’s wrong?” she said.

  “I don’t know,” answered J.R.

  “Maybe you’re not doing it right,” she insisted.

  “What?” replied J.R. “There’s nothing to it, you click the button and that’s it.”

  Thomas kept glancing between the two of them, his head shifting back and forth like he was watching a tennis match. “Really? You’re arguing about what time it is?”

  “It’s more than that Thomas,” replied J.R.

  The three of them looked back at the Collector marching in their direction.

  “We’re going to have to fight!” said J.R.

  “What?” squealed Thomas, “How? With what? Look at that guy he’s practically a giant.”

  J.R. looked to the sky for Jicky-Jack but he was nowhere in sight. “Thomas,” he said. “We have to believe in ourselves and our own power. Just like with our dreams in life; if we don’t keep believing we can reach them, they’ll be crushed, like that boulder crushing those trees.”

  “Ok, great story, J.R.,” said Thomas. “But what’s that got to do with our impending death right now?”

  “I don’t know,” said J.R., feeling pressed for a logical explanation and looking around desperately for some way out. “I mean sometimes my fear keeps me from reaching my dreams, and sometimes I have to believe bigger things will happen for me and I have to fight to reach them.”

  “Ah, Ok,” said Thomas, staring at Pip. “Just forget it.”

  J.R. grabbed Thomas and Pip each by the arm. “We can do this. Think. We have to defend ourselves.” He squeezed as hard as he could and pulled them until their backs were pressed against the thick vine-covered valley wall.

  Then suddenly, something firm and powerful reached out of the vines, wrapped itself around the three of them and pulled them further into the vines. . . so far in, as to be swallowed whole by the mountain.

  They were gone.

  No sign.

  No trail.

  No trace.

  Nothing.

  ****

  J.R., Pip, and Thomas tumbled backwards, landing butt first on a cold dirt floor in a cave. They were blinded by the sudden change from light to dark and couldn’t see clearly.

  “J.R., Thomas,” yelled Pip.

  “Pip, Thomas?” J.R. yelled out. “You guys there?”

  “What happened,” yelled Thomas. “What was that?”

  J.R.’s eyes slowly started to adjust to the interior of the cave and the light coming from small glowing orange torches on its walls. He saw movement ahead of him, slight rays of daylight shining through vines, and a huge shadow moving in front of him, dragging something just as big. Then it disappeared.

  “Did you see that?” yelled Thomas.

  The three of them huddled close together on the floor for a second. Then Pip immediately picked herself up and ran to the wall to find the way back.

  J.R. considered helping her, but however illogical it was, the idea of being where they were, on the inside of the valley wall, in the cave, felt safe to him.

  “What just happened?” yelled Pip scrambling her hands along the surface of what appeared to be a really dark colored glass door of some kind.

  “I don’t know,” said Thomas. “It’s like we feel through the valley wall.

  “Pulled through is more like it,” added J.R. “We’re not in here alone.”

  “And what would have pulled us through . . . wait” said Thomas backtracking on his words, “never mind I don’t want to know that.”

  And without further deliberation Thomas and J.R. stood and joined Pip, the three of them running their hands over the surface of the glass-like surface of the door.

  J.R. frequently looked back into the darkness behind them.

  Thomas put his face against the glass and cupped his hands around the sides of his eyes. “Hey, I see light through the vines.”

  And without warning a sudden burst of light shone through the dark glass from the other side, as hands—the collector’s hands—violently parted the vines.

  J.R., Pip and Thomas went silent and stepped back ever so slightly. They could see the collector pressing the side of his face against the other side of the glass and running the palms of his hands along the surface trying to find a way through.

  The three of them stepped back again, Pip stepping behind the boys this time.

  “I know you’re in there, kid,” yelled the Collector, his muffled voice carrying through the thick dark glass. “I told you we weren’t finished yet. I’ll get you. I promise you that.” He turned and was gone.

  The three of them sighed a moment of relief and hesitantly stepped toward the glass door, Thomas peaking through to verify that the Collector was indeed gone.

  “Don’t worry,” said a soft voice from behind the three of them. “He can’t get you now.”

  J.R., Pip and Thomas jumped in sudden freight—each of them screaming—and huddling against the glass as the torches flared up revealing what looked more like a giant hall than a cave.

  Each of them quickly
shielded their eyes from the intense increase of light.

  “Who’s there?” demanded J.R.

  “Just me,” said the soft voice again, as a translucent-orange body of some kind of being none of them had ever seen before stepped into the light.

  The three of them cringed and quickly tried to back up more, but couldn’t as they were already pressed against the glass.

  “Oh, you can’t go back,” said the being. “The entrance is sealed.”

  Pip, J.R. and Thomas turned and looked then turned back to the being.

  J.R. boldly stepped forward to get a better look at the creature.

  “It kinda looks like a cross between a marshmallow and a giant dried-up apricot,” said Thomas.

  “Shh. . . Thomas,” said J.R. moving closer to the being “What’s your name?”

  “Well, J.R. Timble. You already know that,” said the being. “Agalar Chance is my name, and marbles are my game.”

  “What did you say?” asked J.R.

  “You know what I said, J.R. It’s me, Agalar Chance. Remember?”

  J.R. stood speechless.

  “J.R., do you know him or it?” asked Pip.

  J.R. ignored Pip’s question and looked deeper into the being’s eyes. “Where did you hear that? And where are we?”

  “I heard it from you J.R.,” said Agalar. “And this is the Cave of Chance. And me? I’m your inner self.” Agalar’s face lit up with a beaming, giant grin, obviously proud of his existence.

  J.R. stepped forward and tilted his head upward, inspecting Agalar with squinting eyes.

  “Boy, J.R.,” said Thomas, “you kind of have an ugly inner self. I mean, he’s probably good looking as far as inner selves go, don’t get me wrong.” Agalar frowned at Thomas. “And remember, he’s the first one I’ve ever seen, and well, you—”

  “I think he really is my inner self,” said J.R. “I used to pretend I was this character named Agalar Chance, and I’d dream up all these great things that I wanted to be and do in my life, and I used to play marbles. And that was my saying. Agalar Chance is my name and marbles are my game. Wow.” J.R. smiled. “This is amazing.” He poked Agalar’s orange belly and fire on the torches glowed brighter. He glanced around the giant, dome-shaped cave, taking notice of four bronze doors, and a corridor leading into darkness. “How did we get in here?”

  “I pulled you through of course,” said Agalar. “You might think it happened by chance but wrong you would be. It’s a power that comes with who you will be.”

  “Who I will be?” asked J.R. “What can you tell me about that? You know –my destiny? A lot of people think I’m something special, that I’m not. Are you the one I’m a successor to?”

  J.R. was dying to hear the details, or at this point, anything that made sense.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Trees Grow More Than Leaves

  Agalar raised his finger. “Ah, now I see,” he whispered, pacing back and forth like a professor, “this is why you were sent to me. Well, I can only tell you about your dreams and your decisions. Your fate is managed by something much bigger than me J.R. But your dreams, I can tell you anything you want to know about those. Have a look for yourself.”

  Agalar spun around on his heels. “Penoay esameay,” he commanded, his voice echoing throughout the cave. “That means open sesame in Pig Latin. I thought you might like that touch.” He winked at J.R., and a flash of light came out of the palm of his hand and one of the bronze doors began sliding open. It slid all the way around the wall, mechanically pushing the other doors out of the way.

  “Right this way,” said Agalar.

  J.R., Pip and Thomas cautiously followed him into what J.R. thought resembled a museum.

  The space before them was filled with large empty glass cases, some as high as five and six feet tall. They hovered in neat, military-straight rows and columns.

  “Wow,” said Thomas, as the three of them gazed at hundreds—possibly thousands—of the glass cases that stretched into the core of the mountain as far as they could see.

  “Are you ready?” said Agalar.

  “Ready for what?” asked Pip.

  Agalar snapped his fingers and made a couple of Australian Aboriginal clicks and clucks, and the cases became filled with life-like statues of J.R.

  “That’s what,” said Agalar. “These are your dreams, J.R., every one of them representing someone or something you want to be or do in your life. The oldest ones are in the back, of course. And these here in the front are some of your more recent dreams and aspirations.” Agalar smiled at the display. “Any one of them is ready should you ever decide to call it up for activation.”

  “Activation, what do you activation?” asked J.R.

  “Well, you haven’t ever really forgotten about any of them,” said Agalar. “You’ve only made decisions through your years of life that have led you toward new dreams and aspirations. But, should your dream ever change back to any of the old ones, based on your new choices or decisions, they’re ready for immediate access and delivery to you—activation.”

  “But which one am I now?” asked J.R.

  “These here are your latest dreams,” said Agalar, snapping his fingers and causing the first front row to shift closer. “Let’s see,” he mumbled, bending over to read the gold tags on the glass cases. “This statue says Olympic Track Star. This one says and looks like you’re an archeologist, this one is a SCUBA diver, this one is a pilot, and oh, yes, this one says . . . horse jockey.”

  “Horse jockey,” bellowed Thomas with a laugh. “You want to be a horse jockey?” Thomas almost fell to the floor; he laughed so hard.

  “Well, what’s wrong with that?” said J.R. “I traveled through Kentucky to get here and my mom took me to see some horse races when we stopped for a couple of days.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Thomas, settling down. “It just seems funny, it’s not every day you meet someone that wants to be a horse jockey.”

  “Now, now, Thomas,” said Agalar, “we shouldn’t make fun of other’s dreams. I just happen to know your inner self and because I read the Inner Self Weekly, which is a publication about the inner selves of those people who spend time around us, like you and Pip spending time around J.R. And I happen to know that one of your dreams was to be a nurse just like your father.”

  J.R. and Pip cracked a smile and giggled. Thomas rolled his eyes.

  J.R. diverted Agalar’s attention back to the glass cases that held his statues—his dreams.

  “Ok, but I still don’t understand. Which one am I?” J.R. asked Agalar.

  “You don’t understand,” said Agalar, “because I can’t clearly tell you which one you are. Right now you are any one of these in the entire cave.”

  “So, I’m none of them?” asked J.R.

  “No, you could be anyone of them. Remember you are only twelve and these are all dreams of things you want to be and do in your life, which depends on your decisions as you continue to grow older.”

  “So you have no idea which one of these I will become?” asked J.R.

  “Oh, no . . . it’s too chancy to say,” said Agalar.

  “Ok,” said J.R. “What about the Whiffler’s Legend? Will I have anything to do with that? And is it in there?” He glanced at the glass cases.

  “I’m sorry, J.R.,” said Agalar. “There’s nothing here related to that, so that tells me it’s not currently one of your dreams or aspirations. So, there’s nothing I can say about it because to say anything—about anything to do what that question—could lead you to a conclusion. And you must lead yourself to conclusions or choices in your life; on your own, just as they are recorded in your Decision Tree.”

  “My Decision Tree?” said J.R. “My grandfather mentioned that. What is that?”

  Agalar clapped his hands, and in seconds all the glass cases disappeared, and the bronze door closed. And just as quickly a blue tree began growing out of the cave floor; and grew, and grew, and grew—the tree trunk swelling and contracti
ng as if taking breaths. It grew so large that the cave’s ceiling pushed its way further up into the mountain.

  “This is your Decision Tree, J.R.” said Agalar, smiling. “I take special care to make sure we keep track of every life-changing decision you make—keeping track of time to the ‘T” as I like to say.”

  Agalar blinked his eyes once like a genie and a blue ray of light shot out of his finger at the base of the tree trunk.

  “Here is where you were born,” said Agalar. Then he moved the blue ray of light up the tree trunk. “The trunk represents your earliest years of your life where you made few choices for yourself. The limbs and branches coming off the trunk represent where you started making your own decisions in your life. And as you grew older, and as you made more decisions, the limbs grew thicker and even more branches sprouted off them.”

  “Where am I right now, Agalar?” asked J.R.

  Agalar snapped his wrist and with the point of a finger, a green ball of light—the size of a Ping-Pong ball—shot from the end of it. It made several random complete circles around the tree, as if plotting and graphing a coordinate. Then it stopped in midair and darted into the center of a cluster of branches and stopped.

  “There,” said Agalar, “That’s where you are today with your life decisions. And each time you make a decision; new branches grow, which in turn reveal a new path of options to reaching your dreams and aspirations in life.” Agalar cleared his throat. “This cycle repeats itself until you’re at your end.”

  “End of what?” asked J.R.

  “Well,” said Agalar, “the end of life, of course.”

  J.R. wrinkled his nose, not liking the sound of that.

  “Here, try this one on for size,” said Agalar, clapping his hands, “Time-in-Red.” And instantly a ball of red light appeared in his right hand. He gently tossed it up into the tree and it stopped at a place just below the green one. “Look there, it’s the point in time where you received the Blue Blink-Eye marble, and where you made one of your last life-changing decisions. A vow that you weren’t going to lose your dreams to the pandemic, and that you would stop the pandemic if you could.” Agalar winked at J.R. “Good to know things like that, I would imagine, isn’t it?”