by T K Foster
They did imagine it.... and of course, they were all enchanted by the idea.
Barret didn’t hesitate to accept; he knew they had all been right about him before.... he had no direction, no purpose here. He was lost. He still didn’t want to go back to Earth with Billy though.
As for Cetra and Rod, well, they were partners now, joined at the shoulder. Cetra was a wanderer by nature anyway, and Rod saw it as an opportunity to fulfil his lifelong dream of perpetual adventure. Yay.
Gabby was down with the idea too. She figured no one in her family would even notice whether she was around or not anyway, so what the hay.
Now Billy on the other hand, well he still needed to get home.
“Wonderful,” Brock said and clapped his hands together, “But don’t come aboard lightly, it’s not all brass and giggles you know, its dog hard work.... sometimes dangerous, always adventurous, and very satisfying. I will guarantee there won’t be a day goes by where you don’t feel some sense of achievement....”
“Ok, Brock,” Barret cut in then, “you’ve already sold us to the idea, you can take us through the recruitment speech later, but now let’s go see if Grandpa Bilson can get Billy home. I think he’s been waiting long enough, yeah?”
“Indeed,” Rod agreed, “Let us bring this immediate task to its conclusion before embarking on yet another.”
Thus Brock led the way, up the stairs onto the cobblestone platform surrounded by four pillars, then through the big brass universe via the portable remote control and some good old H.M.E. Again during the process Billy felt that same odd bump against his behind, but when his surroundings had changed, and only three pillars now encircled them, its cause had vanished.
“What the...?”
“Huh?” Barret said, “What’s wrong Billy?”
“Twice now something’s hit me from behind.”
“Oh well, don’t worry about it. You could be home soon anyway.”
Billy looked at him questioningly, “What’s that got to do with it?”
Barret grimaced and then shrugged his shoulders.
“You know,” Billy said, “I still have that feeling that something has been following us.”
This time Barret rolled his eyes and turned away.
Somewhere in the midst of the conversation, Gabby had taken hold of Billy’s hand. Maybe it was even before they had left the Plain of Four Pillars.
Brock cleared his throat and spread his arms wide to emphasise their new surroundings. Beyond the cobble platform and the three stone pillars, beneath a big blue sky and a bright yellow sun, where animals made animal noises and leafy green vegetables grew leafy and green, a little farm stood as the single most prominent feature on an otherwise uninhabited landscape.
“Pretty,” said Cetra.
“Really pretty,” said Gabby.
“Pretty awesome,” said Billy.
“So this one’s not packed into a shed or a wardrobe?” Barret said to Brock, indicating the three pillared Elevator they were now walking away from.
“This one is a fixed structure,” Brock answered, “Up to date model with old fashioned aesthetics to stay in keeping with the farm.”
“Hmm, nice.”
“I know. As far as we’re able to tell this plain is completely uninhabited, so we don’t have any need to hide this one.”
Barret nodded, “Interesting how you can do that, I mean, the mechanics of it all must be....”
“I know,” Brock said, “I’ll teach you all about it.”
Just a short distance ahead of them was the farmhouse; it stood dominant on a thick green lawn, with its wide verandah and white washed weatherboard walls, its heavy set raw oak door and the larger than might be expected rooster standing as sentry on the bottom step.
“Hello Mr Rooster,” said Cetra.
Mr Rooster clucked back aggressively and scratched at the wood under his feet. He eyed off Barry first.
Barry grunted a response. He walked ahead and grabbed hold of a long handled shovel which had been propped up against the verandah railing purposely to ward off big, scary roosters, then he pointed it threateningly at the rooster and simultaneously yelled at it – “Get out of here BR” – and thus succeeded in clearing the way for his company to enter.
“BR, is that its name?” asked Rod.
“Bad Rooster,” Barry said, “BR for short.”
In parting, BR puffed up his feathers, flexed his wings, and squawked one last squawk.
CHAPTER FORTY THREE
