The Missing Link

by David Tysdale

  "I'm not interested in fame."

  "No?" Professor Hotspot seemed genuinely surprised. "Perhaps that's true, though it's obvious she's taken quite a fancy to you, which in its own way is just as perilous."

  Knowing he was waiting to pounce on whatever she said, Carole merely shrugged.

  "Might I inquire as to how you came to possess those unsightly bruises?" He waved his fingers annoyingly close to her eyes. "Certainly not a new fad, though I admit with today's youth it is sometimes hard to tell."

  Mrs. Sylphwood sniffed. "She had an accident."

  "Nasty and recent by the looks of it. But it was my understanding that you were on a field trip with Professor Philamount over the rest days. So how is it you've returned to us with eyes so battered and blue?"

  He glanced at her mother. "If this is what happens while on excursion with a seasoned guide, imagine the carnage once our youth are again set free to leap unsupervised."

  "I tripped. It had nothing to do with dimensional travel."

  "It has everything has to do with dimensional travel. A point I shall most definitely be making at the assembly."

  "You're finished your speech then, Snively?" Mrs. Sylphwood said.

  "Not quite." He smiled disarmingly. "A few finishing touches, but enough about me. Tonight is your show, Judith. An enjoyable evening with old friends and your most wonderful cooking. But..." He looked around and then at Carole. "Where is our four-footed familiar? Is he not to join us, tonight? I thought the two of you were inseparable."

  "Runt has other plans."

  "Pity. I would have appreciated his input."

  Anything he had to say to or about the pigs would be bad news. Carole tried to sound bored. "Oh? On what?"

  "Just some thoughts a few of us have been tossing about."

  "Wash for dinner, Carole," Mrs. Sylphwood said. "Your father was also late. He'll be down momentarily. Come Snively, we'll await Baxter in the sitting room. Another drink?"

  "Have I ever said no to one of your delicious libations, Judith? Your skills are legend, you know."

  Mrs. Sylphwood's eyes sparkled. "Flatterer."

  Carole made a face behind their backs before bounding upstairs and throwing herself onto her bed. She rolled over to stare at the pale green walls of the room. It didn't feel like her room. Even with homework strewn over the desk and her rucksack sitting in a corner, it felt foreign and cold, like the rest of the house, like her parents. And she missed Hal.

  She listened to the creaking floorboards as her father moved about, across the hall. After he'd gone downstairs, she went into the washroom, rinsed her hands and splashed her face. She stared at herself in the mirror. She couldn't see any resemblance at all to either parent. How could she be related to them?

  Downstairs, the adults were in the sitting room, all three facing the large picture window. Her mother and Professor Hotspot were on the plush blue sofa, looking anything but relaxed. Her father, dressed in a burgundy jacket that matched her mother's dress, was pacing. Carole slipped unnoticed into a chair closest to the doorway. Her dress immediately darkened to match the chair's blue.

  "You shouldn't worry so, Baxter," Judith Sylphwood spoke with a hint of irritation. "There's nothing for it but to reschedule."

  "I know that Judith, but it irks one so. I informed the two them of the change, days ago, and they have the audacity to blame me for the mix up. Me! It's no wonder our cause is forever being--"

  Suddenly, as if aware of Carole, Professor Hotspot blurted, "Best to leave work at work, Baxter." He lifted his glass. "Perfection as always Judith, but I see that your daughter is without a beverage."

  Judith Sylphwood swiveled around. Her face clouded over. "How long have you been sitting there?"

  "You told me to hurry."

  "I trust it's not beneath you to share a drink with us lowly, non-leaping types," Professor Hotspot said. "I admit we can't rival the feats of the great Melodious Philamount, but still we do contribute to the community in our own small ways."

  Carole mouth dropped open at his sarcastic manner. She looked to her parents, but her father had turned back to the window, and her mother was now staring fixedly into her own glass. "Fine. I'll fix myself something."

  "But your mother has already made a pitcher of the most delicious-- Oh, that's right." Professor Hotspot chuckled. "These are adult drinks and you are just a child after all."

  Carole stormed into the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. She yanked open the ice box, scooped up some ice and snatched a redfruit. After hacking off the end, she squeezed it into the glass with all the strength she could muster. Tossing the mangled fruit aside, she filled the rest of the glass with water and took a sip. "Ick!" She spooned in some sugar, took another sip and tossed the spoon aside. Taking a deep breath, she strolled back to the sitting room and positioned herself in her chair so that her glass blocked professor Hotspot's face.

  The professor barely waited for her to settle. "I understand your daughter has been doing some historical research, Baxter. Following in your footsteps as well. First she repairs a tunnel with the technical wizardry of her mother and now she's delving into archival material with the gusto of her father. Very impressive."

  "What are you talking about?" Baxter Sylphwood said.

  "Yes. A colleague mentioned seeing Carole and her monobrains entering the Hall of Records earlier today."

  Carole was amazed at how quickly the information had reached the man. Could he be the one having her followed?

  "What were you doing in the archives?" her father said.

  "We're learning ancient history." She shifted her glass to study Hotspot's expression. "Professor Melamine mentioned there might be something in the archives, but it seems some fire destroyed everything from back then."

  "Such a tragedy," her father said. "All the wisdom from those tranquil times has been lost to us."

  "Quite right," professor Hotspot agreed. "Those times were so unlike our present day chaos. Dimensional fluxes, leapers thrown about willy-nilly, porcine familiars crowding us out of our very homes, the ongoing monobrain contamination."

  Carole rolled her eyes. "You don't actually believe all that?"

  "The evidence is irrefutable."

  "There are no more dimensional fluxes. The pigs keep to themselves. And so do the twins, for that matter."

  "Their very presence is a disruption. I have it on good authority--"

  "The council voted to send them to school. I was there, too, and as I recall, it wasn't the Devilles who were the ones being disruptive."

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  Carole caught a look from her mother and took a long sip of her drink. She sloshed the sweet liquid between her cheeks a number of times before swallowing.

  Professor Hotspot leaned toward her. "Are you accusing me of inappropriate behavior?"

  Judith Sylphwood cleared her throat. "Carole, this is not how we speak to guests in our house. Apologize."

  "I've got nothing--"

  "Apologize at once!"

  Carole took another slow drink.

  "Did you hear me young lady?"

  "No," she said quietly. "I won't."

  Her mother stood. "Apologize to our guest and to me."

  "It's the truth."

  "Carole--"

  "Let's everybody just calm down." Her father stepped between Carole and her mother. "Perhaps we'd best dampen our tempers with food."

  "I'm not hungry," Carole said.

  "Then you shall grace us with your presence while we eat. Snively, Judith, after you."

  Carole dragged herself to the table, where she was forced to sit across from Professor Hotspot, who was already scooping food onto his plate. To her left, her mother sat staring straight ahead with lips pressed into a thin line. As if pretending nothing had happened, her father reached for a glass of water.

  "I apologize for my enthusiasm," Snively said, setting down his plate. "You were quite right to censure us, Baxter. A dinner
date is no place for politics. Bad for the digestion."

  Mr. Sylphwood rubbed the creases furrowing his brow. "We're all under a great deal of strain these days. The...adjustment has been difficult for everyone."

  "And doubly difficult for the two of you." Hotspot shoveled food into his mouth. "I can only imagine. Regaining your daughter after all these years, only to find her dripping with primitive behaviors and opinions. It must've been like opening up your home to a complete stranger."

  Carole's eyes narrowed.

  "And likewise for you too, Miss Sylphwood." Professor Hotspot swallowed loudly. "Hub reality must have come as quite the shock, when you were used to living out of a box of fuzzy memories."

  "Meaning?"

  "Simply that your understanding of our world is based upon the rememberings of a toddler, which of course was the point I was trying to make, earlier." He speared a green bean with his fork. "And because of that, perhaps you would consider deferring to the wisdom of your elders. After all we've been around longer and therefore might know just a little more than you."

  "I'm old enough to know that multitaskers are just as opinionated as monobrainers."

  "But are you wise enough to recognize the difference between factual opinion and mere bigotry?" Professor Hotspot smacked his lips loudly. "Absolutely delicious, Judith. For example, when I speak of our porcine problem, I'm not speaking from a personal dislike of the herd, but as one who must decide what's best for our entire community." He stuck a finger into his mouth and dug between two teeth.

  "What problem?"

  "Recognition that if we don't do something, we'll soon be overrun. No one would consider destroying the creatures, as monobrains are wont to do. Although I must admit their barbaric rituals aren't totally without merit, because the porcine population must be controlled." He spooned more food onto his plate.

  "You want to slaughter the herd?"

  Carole's parents squirmed in their seats.

  "No, no, not at all. That's not what I said. I'm simply stating that the notion has a primitive sort of appeal--"

  "You find murder appealing?" Carole jumped to her feet, knocking her plate across the table. "And you say monobrains are barbaric. You're as bad as the worst of them."

  Her mother gasped. "Carole!"

  "And after you do away with the pigs, who's next? Zack and Lilly and me, or anyone else who disagrees with your factual opinions?"

  Professor Hotspot turned to Carole's stunned father. "You see? You see? This is what comes of associating with monobrains. This is why they must go.

  "Murder? I said no such thing, was advocating no such thing. It was an intellectual exercise, nothing more. Judith, Baxter, do you see? For the safety and security of all, these alien influences must be removed." He held his handkerchief against his mouth and belched.

  Carole jabbed her finger at him. "You're the one who needs to be stopped."

  "Carole!" Her mother's face was pale and drawn. "You have gone too far."

  "I've gone too far?" Hot tears stung her eyes. "He talks of murder and I've gone too far?"

  "Everybody please..." Baxter Sylphwood held out his hands.

  Judith Sylphwood ignored him. "I'll not have a child under my roof behaving in such a disgraceful manner."

  "You won't have to." Carole bolted from the table and raced up to her room. She stuffed her few belongings into her rucksack and flew back downstairs and out the front door. Minutes later she was pounding on the door of the Devilles' cottage.

  Zack opened it immediately. When he saw her tear-streaked face, he said, "Didn't go so well, huh?"

  "Any chance I can bunk here for a while?"

  Lilly peered over her brother's shoulder. "Oh, Carole, was it that bad?"

  "Those people can't be my parents. They belong in a wax museum next to that stuffed peacock, Hotspot."

  "You can share my room," Lilly said.

  "The loft is fine. I don't need much."

  "So what now?" Zack said.

  "I'm going to see Hal."

  "But Philamount--"

  "Who cares? It's not like he doesn't keep us in the dark."

  "Have you eaten?" Lilly said.

  "I wasn't exactly in the mood."

  "Come on, we've got lots."

  Carole forced down a small plate of bean casserole and, at Lilly's prompting, stuffed a few rolls into her pockets.

  "Take a sweater," Lilly advised, and grabbed one of her own.

  "Thanks." Carole forced a smile. She focused on her foster-father, made a connection with her subtle sight, and felt the chill of the void as the Deville cottage faded from view.

  --17--

  Carole stepped into a raging storm. A howling wind slammed torrents of rain against her body. She wrapped Lilly's sweater tightly around her chest and struggled with the buttons, but was soaked to the skin before the first was even done up.

  Giving up on the sweater, she squinted into the stinging rain. A barn-sized building was barely visible in the distance. She turned around and saw a stone cottage, only yards away.

  Carole allowed the wind to push her to the cottage. There was no response when she pounded on the door. She pounded again. This time it opened a crack and a familiar face peered out.

  "Carole?"

  "Hal!"

  The old man swung the door wide and was immediately doused by sheets of water. "Come on, come on, out of the storm." A sodden gust shoved Carole over the threshold while Hal wrestled the door shut again.

  "Picked a fine night to be out," he said with a chuckle, as streams of water puddled onto the floor. "Worst hurricane in years." He bustled her towards a hearth in which a small fire was stoically burning, despite the wailing wind that rattled the flue and sucked at the flames. "Back in a moment." He shuffled down a short hallway.

  Carole pulled her hair away from her face and looked around. The front of the cottage was mostly kitchen, with a small pedestal table separating it from the rest of the space. A kerosene lamp atop the table was the main source of light. Bracketing the fireplace, were two lavishly upholstered chairs with accompanying ottomans. There was also a small corner bookcase.

  Hal returned with an armload of towels. He passed one to Carole, threw one over his own shoulders, and dropped the rest on the nearest chair.

  "Now let's have a look," he said, barely giving her time to wipe her face. His eyes sparkled. "Has it been that long? You must have grown a good six inches and at least twenty years." He grabbed her in a fierce bear hug.

  Carole found herself sobbing uncontrollably against his shoulder.

  Once her tears had eased, he stepped back. "Will ya look at that," he said, while wiping his own face. "I've turned into a blubbering fool and left you standing here soaking wet." He pushed a terrycloth robe at her. "Into this while I stoke up the fire."

  He ushered Carole down the hall into a bedroom and was gone before she could utter a thanks.

  She emerged a short time later to a roaring fire, and saw a steaming mug sitting on the table.

  Hal was standing beside the window, staring at the rain that continued to pelt the glass. He turned, and she saw he also held a steaming mug. "Thought you might like a nice cup of hot chocolate."

  "Absolutely. I've been dreaming of the day."

  "Dream no more." He limped to the nearest chair.

  "What's the matter with your leg?"

  "This old thing?" He sat wearily and slapped his thigh with disgust. "It's just worn out, Carole. Happens to the best of us. Take a seat." He patted the other chair. "Oh my, I forgot about food. Are you hungry? I could whip something together."

  "Hot chocolate's all I need."

  "You sure? What about some munchies while we talk."

  "So long as it's left-overs. Don't go overboard on my account."

  Hal hobbled into the kitchen and returned minutes later, balancing a platter on his bad arm and carrying forks and knives with his good. The plate was heaped with an assortment of exotic cheeses, crackers and fruits
.

  "That's what you call left-overs?"

  He waved a hand dismissively. "From my employer. I get stuff like this all the time." He chuckled. "Moved up in the world a little, since leaving the Murtz's."

  "I'll say. What--"

  "All in good time. Eat first, talk second."

  "Yes, father-not." Carole giggled and picked up some cheese. Nothing about the place was the least bit familiar, but she felt herself relaxing in a way she hadn't done for a long time.

  * * * *

  A sudden sound startled Carole awake. She was curled up in a chair with a blanket draped over her. It was dark, the only light coming from the fire. Outside the wind still howled, though perhaps not quite as energetically as when she'd first arrived.

  "Sorry," Hal said as he wiped his nose. He sneezed again. "Caught me by surprise. I didn't mean to wake you."

  "Don't be." She sat up with one long, luxurious stretch. "I came here to see you, not to sleep."

  He lit the kerosene lamp and placed it on the mantelpiece. "I take it things haven't been a bed of roses, lately?"

  Carole snorted. "At least we managed to fix the tunnel."

  "We?"

  "Me, Runt and a couple of friends I met along the way."

  "Friends. That's good. Multitaskers?"

  "Monobrains. They lived east of the Murtzes."

  "And your parents?"

  Carole looked away.

  "I see."

  "They're not... It's just... Nothing's like what I expected." She sighed. "In fact, I think I just ran away from home."

  "Ah, so this is what we might call an unscheduled visit."

  "I've wanted to see you for months, but Philamount wouldn't let me. He says it's not safe." Carole pounded fist against palm. "I'm so angry! They treat me like a baby, and after all I've done. Especially Hotspot. He's such a loser, and my parents don't even like me. And the Conundrum wasn't an accident, and Philamount's trying to make me cram ten years of schooling into one but I think he's really just keeping me busy. And it's no better for Lil or Zack or the pigs. And there's this war thing. We don't even know who to trust, or what it's all about. Nobody tells us anything!" She pounded both fists into her chair, as tears streamed down her cheeks.