Epoch

by Timothy Carter

  “Sure,” he said. “And I can understand you two being upset when I called you devil creatures.”

  “Yeah, what was that all about?” Clara asked, landing next to Nod.

  “I had to tell my brother something,” Vincent said. “And I couldn’t tell him about the creatures who really did attack me,” he tapped his nose, “so I used you guys. How was I to know you would follow me home?”

  “He’s got an obyon,” Clara said to Nod. “That’s not good.”

  “They never are,” Nod replied, then turned back to Vincent. “Had a run-in with the elves, did you? Nasty bunch, they are. Not as bad as centaurs, but still bad news. No wonder you ran from us. Things haven’t been going your way, have they?”

  “No,” Vincent agreed. “Look, before we talk further, can you two help me out? I’d really rather my dad and brother didn’t wake up in here and freak out all over again. Help me get them upstairs, then we can talk all you want.”

  The small creatures continued to surprise and amaze Vincent with their strength. Nod carried Mr. Drear back upstairs without any help at all, and Clara was just fine carrying Max. While the tiny ones laid his family back in their beds, Vincent grabbed some snacks from the kitchen and returned to the Chapel.

  They talked, and they ate chips and drank caffeine-free diet cola. Vincent learned that Clara and Nod were pixies, who, like the elves, had recently settled in the neighborhood. Vincent also learned that there were many fantasy-type creatures now living within the city’s limits.

  “It’s a regular fantasapalooza out there,” Nod said. “And more come in every day.”

  “How come?” Vincent asked, taking a big gulp from his bottle of cola. His parents insisted he and Max only enjoy soft drinks when entertaining guests. Well, the pixies were guests, weren’t they?

  “You don’t know?” Nod said.

  “Of course he doesn’t know,” Clara said. “He only started seeing our kind today. But I’m sure he knows about the Portal Site.”

  “The what?” Vincent asked, shoveling chips into his mouth. The chips were also strictly for guests, but Vincent had missed his supper.

  “You know, Portal Sites,” Clara said.

  “No, I don’t,” Vincent replied.

  Clara stared at him in open-mouthed shock for what felt like a full minute. Nod sighed and shook his head.

  “You really don’t know?” Clara asked.

  “No,” Vincent replied. “I don’t. And you are starting to seriously annoy me. What is a Portal Site?”

  The two pixies turned and looked at each other.

  “Should we tell him?” Clara asked. “I mean, if he doesn’t know … ”

  “None of them know,” Nod said. “It’s like I’ve been telling you, something is messed up this time around. None of the humans know.”

  “But they must know,” Clara said. “It’s nearly time, and … ”

  “Do you see anyone preparing?” Nod said. “Do you see the humans in a mass exodus to the Sites? No, you don’t. They don’t know. It’s like what happened to us, but worse because they don’t know.”

  “Will one of you please tell me what you are talking about!” Vincent said, raising his voice as loud as he dared.

  “Vincent,” Nod said, “what I’m about to tell you is big. Bigger than anything you’ve ever heard before.”

  “I’ve heard a lot,” Vincent said, trying to put on a brave front. Inside, the suspense was eating him alive.

  “You haven’t heard this,” Nod said. “Kid, the world’s about to end.”

  Vincent blinked. His mind absorbed the information, and he was more than a little disappointed.

  “That’s it?” Vincent asked.

  “What do you mean, that’s it?” Nod said, kicking a potato chip at him. “The world’s going to end. Soon! Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “I just presented a school project on the end of the world for our science fair,” Vincent told him, “and my parents’ church has been telling us we’re in the Last Days ever since I was born. I’m sorry, Nod, but the end of the world isn’t that big of a shock.”

  “Wow,” Clara said, turning to her companion. “And you say our lives are depressing.”

  “I do not,” Nod said. “Well, sometimes.”

  “So, how’s it going to end?” Vincent asked. “Nuclear war? An asteroid impact? Ice age? Killer bees?”

  “Worse,” Nod said. “Demons.”

  “Demons?” Vincent said, the old dread returning. “They actually exist?”

  “Not the way you’re probably thinking,” Nod said. “For one thing, they don’t use pitchforks. They don’t need them.”

  “And they’re not from Hell,” Clara added. “They’re part of a natural cleansing process of the Earth.”

  “Say what?” Vincent said.

  “Their purpose,” Clara explained, “is to destroy the dominant species whose epoch has passed. It’s the only way to prepare the world for the next species.”

  “You do not want to be stuck behind when the demons come,” Nod said. “You see, kid, every few thousand years or so the planet needs to rejuvenate itself. Have a fresh start. The demons are part of that process. So are the Portal Sites. First you’ll get some earthquakes, then some really bad weather, then volcanoes, and then the portals close and the demons come out. It’s all about clearing the dominant species off the planet.”

  “Clearing off … ” Vincent said. “You mean a bunch of demons are gonna come to wipe out all humanity?”

  “That’s about the size of it, yep,” Nod replied.

  The fact that Vincent did not sleep had nothing to do with the cold concrete floor. His mind reeled with the information he’d been given, alternating between terror and fascination.

  The pixies had stayed an extra hour, during which they’d filled in a few gaps. Specifically, they’d told Vincent about the Portal Sites.

  The near future wasn’t all bleak. Portal Sites, the pixies explained, were humanity’s ticket off the doomed planet.

  “When each epoch comes to an end,” Nod said, “portals appear at certain sites all over the planet. The creatures who make up that epoch’s dominant species are called psychically to those sites, where they can walk through the portals and leave this world behind.”

  “Where do they go?” Vincent asked.

  “Don’t know,” Clara replied. “We missed our chance to find out. Which is not something I would recommend.”

  “The portals only stay open for a short time,” Nod told him. “Anyone left on the planet after they close is demon food.”

  “Right now, all of humanity should be stampeding toward the nearest gate,” Clara told him. “The fact that you aren’t means there’s something seriously wrong.”

  “How come you two didn’t get to a portal?” Vincent asked.

  “Well, there’s a fun story,” Nod said. “Basically, it was all because of the centaurs.”

  “You mentioned centaurs before,” Vincent said. “Who are they?”

  “Pains in the rear,” Nod said. “Thought they were better than any other species.”

  “They, like us, come from the last epoch,” Clara said. “When our time ended six thousand years ago, the centaurs refused to go.”

  “They thought the planet belonged to them,” Nod added, “and figured they were powerful enough to fight the demons off. Boy, were they wrong.”

  “Just a second,” Vincent said. “Are you telling me you are six thousand years old?”

  “Nine thousand, actually,” Nod said. “And Clara here is eight thousand, though she doesn’t look a day over a millennium.”

  “Thank you, Nod,” Clara said. “We have longer lifespans, Vincent. All creatures from our epoch do.”

  “Wow,” Vincent said. �
�So you were there, fighting the demons with the centaurs?”

  “Hell, no!” Nod said. “We wanted off-planet, same as every other species. Problem was, the centaurs wouldn’t let us.”

  “They blocked all the portals,” Clara said, “and fought with anyone who tried to get through. A few made it past them, but not many. Centaurs are very powerful magic users, Vincent. When Nod and I tried to get past them, they knocked us back easily.”

  “Why didn’t they want you going through?” Vincent asked.

  “Because they’re jerks,” Nod said.

  “Because of balance,” Clara clarified. “Each species has its role to play in the natural order of things. The centaurs wanted the world to stay just the way it was.”

  “But it didn’t, right?” Vincent said.

  “Nope,” Nod replied. “The demons hunted down and killed every last one of them, and most of every other race as well.”

  “And that’s what will happen to you,” Clara added, “if you don’t find the portals soon.”

  “Sorry to dump all this on you, kid,” Nod added. “We’ll tell you if we find the Portal Site, but if we can’t … well, good luck to all of us.”

  After the pixies departed, Vincent sorted through the information they’d given him. A hundred new questions burned in his mind, and all of it came down to one thing; the world was going to end, and soon.

  As he lay on the floor of the chapel, mulling it all over in his mind, he realized he had to do something about it. But what?

  “I must talk with Chanteuse again,” he said. “She’ll know what to do.”

  • • •

  When the Chapel doors finally opened (the proper way), Vincent braced himself for what was to come. His father and brother might have woken up believing that the previous night’s excitement had been a dream, but Vincent couldn’t count on that.

  Before they’d left, the pixies had helped him restore the Chapel to its former pristine state. The altar stood once more, the pop bottles were gone and even the smallest of chip crumbs had been picked off the floor. There was no sign that anyone other than Vincent had been in the Chapel all night, and certainly no evidence that he’d enjoyed himself.

  No evidence except my brother and father’s memories, Vincent thought as he turned around to face the music.

  Instead of his father or Max, however, Vincent saw his mother. He blinked in surprise even as he shielded his eyes from the bright basement light.

  “I trust you’ve learned your lesson?” his mother said.

  “Indeed I have,” Vincent said, expecting some kind of lecture.

  “Good,” his mother said. “Come along and have breakfast. I made pancakes.”

  Vincent blinked with surprise once more. What was all this about?

  “What is all this about?” Vincent asked as he followed his mother back upstairs.

  “I thought you deserved a treat after spending all night in the Chapel,” she replied.

  “You did?” Vincent said, his surprise growing as he sat down at the kitchen table. His mother had already made the pancakes, and had even got out the 100% pure maple syrup. They only ever used that on Christmas morning, yet there it was.

  “Yes, I did,” his mother said, sitting down across from him. “Can a mother not spoil her child every now and then?”

  “I thought the Triumvirate didn’t allow that sort of thing,” Vincent said, eyeing her suspiciously. That had certainly been his parents’ policy up until now.

  “I thought so, too,” his mother replied, serving up the pancakes, “but an angel told me differently last night.”

  Vincent, who’d been reaching for the syrup, stopped.

  “Angel?” he asked.

  “Yes, I awoke last night to see an angel putting your father back to bed,” his mother said. “He said the Triumvirate were angry with the way we’d been treating you.”

  “Did he?” Vincent said, smiling inwardly. That cheeky little pixie!

  “He said I should spoil you,” his mother said, “so that’s what I am doing.”

  Vincent thought this was jolly good fun, but then he saw the look in his mother’s eyes. She looked scared, very much so. Vincent guessed she was feeling the same fear he’d felt when he’d seen his first elf. Of course, his mother believed in angels and demons. But it was quite another thing to actually see one.

  “Um, thanks,” Vincent said, pouring the syrup. “This is great, mom.”

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?” his mother asked, her voice just a tiny bit frantic. “A glass of milk? Or would you like to try coffee?”

  “No thanks, I’m good,” Vincent said, tucking into his pancakes. They were a little tough and lumpy; his mother never did learn the art of pancake cooking.

  “How are they, dear?” she asked, her voice cracking with tension.

  “Fine, just great,” Vincent said quickly, taking another mouthful and giving her the thumbs up.

  Man, he thought, this is starting to freak me out. What did Nod say to her?

  “What did the angel say to you, Mom?” Vincent asked. “You seem a little wigged.”

  “You would be too if you’d seen an angel,” his mother replied. “Although I did expect him to be a bit bigger … well.” She got up suddenly. “I’d better see if your father and brother are up yet.”

  Uh oh, thought Vincent, who’d almost forgotten the trouble he might face if his father and Max had any recollection of the previous night. Maybe Nod had said something to them as well? No, Max hadn’t been able to see the pixies, not really. And his dad had thought they were demons. Curious, Vincent thought, that his mother saw them as angels. Perhaps people saw them the way they wanted to.

  His mother left the kitchen and hurried upstairs. If he didn’t know better, Vincent might have thought she was now afraid of him. Vincent wasn’t sure he knew better. He wolfed down his remaining pancakes, then walked quickly to the front door and put on his shoes. He would have loved to change his clothes, as his previous day’s clothes were feeling a bit sticky, but Vincent wanted to avoid his family if he could possibly help it.

  It was a school day, but with the world ending Vincent thought he might take a day off. If he hurried, he might be able to intercept Chanteuse before she left for her own school. He would tell her everything that had happened to him in the last twelve hours, and fill her in on Portal Sites and ending epochs and so on.

  Vincent put his jacket on, and was turning the door handle when he heard someone coming down the stairs. A moment later Max appeared, still dressed in his clothes from yesterday. He looked wiped out, as if he’d slept too much, but when he saw Vincent he straightened immediately.

  “Vincent!” he said. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “School,” Vincent replied, opening the door. “Gotta go. Bye.”

  Vincent slammed the door in his brother’s face, then ran off down the street.

  Chanteuse was meditating on her front lawn as Vincent approached. Great, he thought. I haven’t missed her.

  “Hold it right there, kid.”

  Vincent spun around and looked down. Grimbowl stood on the sidewalk behind him, wearing his usual cheeky smile.

  “You wouldn’t be thinking of telling our mutual friend about last night’s goings-on,” Grimbowl asked, “would you?”

  “That is exactly what I plan to do,” Vincent said, and he resumed his walk to Chanteuse’s house.

  “Stop,” Grimbowl said.

  Pain erupted in Vincent’s head, so he stopped.

  “You will not,” Grimbowl said, “tell Chanteuse anything about our little talk. Do you get me?”

  Vincent stared daggers at the elf, who smiled back in a smug way.

  “I get you,” Vincent said. “I was going to talk to her abou
t something else.”

  “Forget it. It’s time for you to go to work,” Grimbowl said. “Come with me.”

  Vincent was torn. He wanted very badly to talk to Chanteuse, but he knew the price of disobedience only too well. He took one last look at his meditating friend, then hurried off after the elf.

  • • •

  It was only a few minutes before Vincent realized the elf was leading him to school. That irritated him to no end, since he’d all but decided to skip today’s classes. A good education was important, or so he’d been told many times over by his parents, his teachers, and his brother. Right now, though, doing something about the end of the world seemed just a tad more urgent than math and geography.

  They reached the edge of the school’s football field and headed for the parking lot. Grimbowl pointed as a limo pulled into the lot, and Vincent watched as the school’s richest kid got out.

  “Barnaby Wilkins,” he said with a full dose of contempt.

  “You know him?” Grimbowl said. “Good. That’ll make things easier.”

  “You want me to beat him up?” Vincent asked hopefully, the memory of Big Tom’s bruises still fresh in his mind.

  “Nope,” Grimbowl said. “We want you to make friends with him.”

  “Oh come on!” Vincent said. “You want me to hang out with that jerk?”

  “Yes,” Grimbowl replied.

  “I won’t do it.”

  “Oh yes you will,” Grimbowl replied. “If you don’t want your head to explode, you’ll do exactly what I say.”

  Vincent grunted but made no further comment. The elf was right and he knew it.

  “I’m right,” Grimbowl said. “And you know it.”

  “Okay, fine, I’ll make friends with Barnaby,” Vincent said. “But why? What do you care about some rich kid?”

  “You remember my buddy Plimpton?” Grimbowl said. “He got a look at the science fair project Barnaby did, the one on government conspiracies. We think he might be on to something. You ever hear of the Portal Sites?”