World Walker 1: The World Walker

by Ian W. Sainsbury

  ***

  Seb kept his eyes shut until he was sure the train was a few miles clear of Victorville. He had never been so scared in his life, which was ironic considering the day he'd just had. There was something about the slow, inevitable closing in of a net that brought him out in a sweat. Seb distracted himself by attempting to re-establish contact with Seb2. He tried calling a silent "hello", but quickly recognized no conscious effort was going to work. Judging from the conversation that morning, it seemed extreme physical danger or impending death might be the only way to get in touch with his subconscious.

  "They're long gone," said Walt.

  Seb cautiously opened his eyes. The restaurant car was clear of uniforms and everybody had resumed their conversations. The heightened pitch of most voices testified that they were discussing the unexpected interruption. No doubt, there would be some speculation about who the FBI were looking for. Seb saw three or four people checking their phones, looking for news of escaped convicts or terrorists on the loose. Try googling 'suicidal musician cured by alien still at large'. He smiled.

  "Care to share?" said Walt.

  "Oh, I was just thinking about the day I've had," said Seb, "you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

  "Try me," said Walt.

  "No, you first," said Seb. "You just met me. You know nothing about me. Why did you help me back there? I could be an escaped lunatic for all you know. And that FBI guy looked right at me and didn't recognize me. What the hell was that? Jedi mind trick?"

  "Now that was a movie I thoroughly enjoyed," said Walt. "The Force - wonder where he got that idea from? But - sadly - I can't influence anyone's mind directly. The stunt I just pulled was far more basic."

  "How did you do it?" said Seb. "Why did you do it?"

  Walt topped up both glasses and sat back.

  "The easiest way I can explain is by finishing my story."

  Seb sat up impatiently, disliking the feeling of having no control. He'd had no time to absorb what was happening to him - hell, he didn't even know exactly what was happening to him. And meeting the enigmatic Walt just as he desperately needed help couldn't be a coincidence. He looked across at the older man. His face was relaxed, intelligent, alert. Who was he? Seb had so many questions, he didn't know where to start. He sat back again and deliberately slowed his breathing, calming his mind.

  "Go ahead," he said. "I'll save my questions for a little while."

  "Thank you," said Walt. "I will answer them, I promise." He closed his eyes for a second, gathering his thoughts.

  "I remember that first encounter with Sid Bernbaum. I'd decided anyone who was allowed to avoid paying protection money to the mob was probably someone I shouldn't mess with. The problem was, I didn't come to this conclusion until I had picked his lock and was standing in the middle of his store." Walt chuckled softly. "I was far too curious when I was a kid. Usually, I had enough sense not to put myself in danger unnecessarily, but for some reason I disregarded all the warning signs that night. When my gut finally got round to telling me I needed to be somewhere else - fast - I turned and went back to the door. But it had gone."

  "Gone?" said Seb, startled. "What do you mean?"

  "I thought I was losing my mind, to start with," said Walt. "Instead of the florist's front door and shop window, there was just a mass of green. It was like I'd walked into a jungle. Where the door should have been was just leaves, branches, tendrils, flowers. I froze for a second, then I saw the door handle. It was just visible although some kind of creeper had coiled itself around it. Then I realized the plants were moving. Two paces closer, and suddenly they all seemed to rear up at once. I stopped short, then backed up again. It was as if I was facing some kind of massive snake about to strike."

  Seb's mouth twitched as he remembered the sensation he'd felt earlier as the napkin had come toward him.

  "I could see the individual plants making up some kind of body," continued Walt, his eyes closed as he remembered. "I saw geraniums, roses, carnations, rubber plants, orchids. It would have been funny if it hadn't been the scariest thing I'd ever seen. I just stood there, gaping, sweating, practically hyper-ventilating. And - for the first time in my life - I didn't know what to do. I'd always lived on my wits and now they deserted me. I felt a sensation I'd never felt before: panic. I could taste acid in my throat. I thought I was going to collapse. And that's when Sid finally spoke. He was hidden in the shadows behind the counter.

  " 'I'm afraid we're closed, young man,' he said. 'If you're after a bouquet for a lady friend or a button hole to smarten yourself up, you should come back during business hours. The sign on the door makes it perfectly clear. Or is there something else I can help you with?'

  "I could hardly form a rational thought, let alone speak in coherent sentences, but I blurted something out about taking a wrong turn, didn't mean to be there, how it was all an innocent mistake. Sid said nothing, just let me tell my lies and make myself look more and more ridiculous. I didn't dare look away from the plants. They were still swaying slightly and I was convinced they were watching me. At the edge of my vision I saw a wizened old man shuffle past. He was bent over a silver-topped cane. Only a few wisps of white hair clung to his wrinkled skull. He went right up to the plants and stroked what looked to me to be the head of a snake, muttering either to the greenery or himself, I wasn't sure which. Then he turned to face me and the plants slowly withdrew, the only sound a faint rustling as the door and window slowly came into view again. I blinked quickly, sure I couldn't be seeing what I was seeing. Funny. When something happens so far outside our world-view, we'll often accept any explanation, however unlikely, as long as it doesn't challenge our preconceptions. I leapt to the conclusion I must have been drugged somehow, or gassed. I looked at this frail old man standing in front of the door and thought I must have imagined the whole thing. I decided I had to clear my head, I had to go home.

  " 'I'll leave,' I said. 'I'm sorry for any trouble.'

  Sid shook his head. 'No,' he said, 'stay a while. We need to talk.' I swallowed hard.

  " 'I have to be somewhere,' I said. Excuse me.' I lurched toward the door, but just as I began to move, creepers shot across the floor and wrapped themselves around my ankles. I screamed and fell, tearing at them, but even as I pulled some away, more took their place until they had pinned my hands to my ankles. I lay there in a fetal position and sobbed in frustration, just a scared kid.

  " 'I'll make some tea,' said Sid as he shuffled back past me. 'Tea helps one think clearly, don't you agree?'

  Walt had closed his eyes again and was smiling while he spoke. Seb was transfixed. This guy really knew how to tell a story, and - despite his initial impatience - Seb was a sucker for a good story. Especially one that might shed some light on the strangest day of his life.

  "Sid went off to make his tea and I struggled to get free for a minute or so before giving up. I managed to get a grip, control myself a little, accept the fact that, for the first time I could remember, I had been out-maneuvered and wasn't in control. I was a smart, streetwise kid, remember. I thought I knew it all. But this tiny, ancient Jewish guy had me powerless in seconds. My world view was going through some fairly serious revisions while I lay there. The main one being an acceptance of the reality of what I had just seen. I've always been a realist, and when I'd first seen those plants move, I tried to convince myself it was only happening in my mind. But I knew different. It was clear this guy was a genuine, bona fide magician, wizard, sorcerer. Whatever. I didn't know any words to describe him that didn't come straight out of a first grade picture book, but he couldn't have been more wizardy if he had worn a pointy hat and waved a wand. But - ever the pragmatist - I soon moved on from this conclusion to wondering what he would do to me. No one knew I was there. I was breaking and entering and he had caught me red-handed. I couldn't help wondering if wizards went in for human sacrifices.

  "When he came back into the room, I felt myself being raised from the floor. The greenery twisted
itself into a structure like a chair, lifting me into it. A green table formed in front of me and as Sid put the tray down, my hands were released, although my legs were still firmly tied to the 'chair'. As he sat, vines and fronds rose up from the floor and supported him.

  " ' I rarely have visitors,' he said, pouring the tea into a china cup, 'so I don't buy milk. I'm afraid you'll have to take it black.' I didn't trust myself to say a thing, just nodded, picked up the cup and took a sip.

  " 'Now, tell me why you are here.' I thought for a second, opened my mouth, but he held up his hand to stop me. 'Think carefully before you speak,' he said, 'then tell me the truth.'

  "I did as I was told. I wasn't going to mess with this guy. As I thought about my boss, the weekly protection money racket, and the fact no one ever bothered Bernbaum's Florist, I realized the real reason I was there. I remembered the pull from the shop every time I'd passed it, the compulsion to go in which had built ever since I'd first set eyes on the faded awning outside his shop.

  " 'You called me,' I blurted out. 'You wanted me here.'

  "Sid's eyes widened a little, then he nodded. 'Good,' he said. 'Very good. You are intelligent as well as gifted. This will make things much easier. How old are you?'

  " 'Seventeen,' I said. He just looked at me, sipping at his tea. 'Fifteen,' I said.

  " 'That's better,' he said. 'A little old, but talented. Hmm.' He stood up and gestured toward me. The 'chair' raised me into a standing position and the plants binding me loosened and fell away. I felt the blood returning to my legs. The old man was just staring at me. I didn't say a word. After a while, he seemed to come to a decision.

  " 'I have been watching you for a while, Walter,' he said. 'You're a bright boy and you've managed to avoid getting yourself killed so far, but it's only a matter of time.' He walked back to the counter and put his hand palm up on the surface. A pot plant next to him slid out fresh new buds, leaves and vines. They covered his hand. He looked at me and I heard a voice coming from the plant nearest to him. If I hadn't been scared half out of my wits, I would've laughed, it was such a shock. I was so taken aback, it took me a while to realize it was Buddy Hanlon's voice. Buddy was a few rungs up from me in the Mob. A dangerous character. It was disorienting hearing his rough Irish voice coming out of a geranium. But after a couple of sentences, I focused on what he was saying.

  " 'Yeah, that Ford kid - Walt,' said the plant/Buddy. 'Manny saw him talking to Benny K last week.' I felt my insides turn to water. Benny K ran the East side for another family. Being seen with him would mean I was finished. And finished with these guys didn't mean a party and a gold watch. Buddy was wrong - I wasn't stupid enough to talk to Benny K - but Manny was a liar and he'd never liked me. Then another voice came from the plant. The voice of Al Strollo. Al 'the strangler' Strollo.

  " 'I'll take care of him,' he said. I was a dead man.

  "Sid smiled at me and the plant slid away from his palm.

  " 'What I can do, only a few can learn,' he said. 'I have been here for over thirty years and the urge to pass on my knowledge before I die has been strong. But you are the first. The first in thirty years. There are others with this power, but...ah, you will learn more about them. If you accept.'

  " 'Accept what?" I said.

  " 'What I am offering you,' said Sid. 'An apprenticeship.'

  "I thought about Strollo the Strangler's hands around my throat.

  " 'Yes,' I said immediately. "I accept.'"

  Walt picked up the wine bottle and refilled the empty glasses. The bottle was still half full. Seb raised his eyebrows and tapped the bottle.

  "The wine?" he said.

  "Yes," said Walt. "We could sit here drinking all night, offer everyone on this train a few glasses and it would still be half full. And each glass just as good as the last."

  "Well, I'm glad this ability of yours turned out to have some practical use," said Seb. "Can you make plants talk, too?"

  "Yes, I can do that," he said, "although I never got to be as adept as Sid was. He had a real way with nature, he seemed to work with the plants, rather than just impose his will on them. My talent turned out to be more powerful, but I could never match his finesse."

  Seb leaned across he table. "Back there, when they were looking for me," he said, "what did you do?"

  "Parlor trick," said Walt. He closed his eyes. Seb was suddenly aware that Walt's face had brightened. No, that wasn't it. It was more like the dining car lights had dimmed. He looked around quickly, but when he turned back to Walt, his features were still normally lit. Walt's face began to change.

  It only took one or two seconds. Walt's tanned features lengthened slightly, his hairline moving forward, the hair itself darkening, thickening and growing three or four inches. Brown eyes became light blue, eyebrows thinning and lifting slightly. Walt's mouth became more generous and a couple days worth of stubble appeared on a distinctly squarer chin.

  Seb whistled in admiration as he stared straight at the most famous young actor in America - as well-known for the sheer volume of equally famous actresses he had dated as he was for the eye-watering pay checks he picked up for his blockbuster movies.

  "Man," said Seb, "that's incredible." A young woman walked past, glanced at them, then looked back at Walt, her eyebrows nearly leaving her face as she realized who she was looking at. She screamed in delight, than fell over her own feet and took a dive into the middle of the dining car, her vodka tonic ending up in the lap of a very unhappy businessman.

  "What the hell are you doing?" the business man said, half-standing and dabbing at his pants with a napkin.

  "I'm sorry," she squeaked, "I'm sorry, it's just, it's just that, well -" She backed up a step and looked over at Walt. Walt - his face now his own again, smiled innocently up at her.

  "Can I help you, Miss?" he said. Her face colored and she coughed, her eyes darting all around her in a desperate attempt to locate the missing celebrity. When she accepted she couldn't possibly have seen what she thought she'd seen, she practically ran for the door, knocking the irate businessman back into his seat as she passed.

  Walt chuckled. "I gave you something a little less ostentatious," he said. "It has to be someone I can picture easily. You should be honored. I gave you Sid's face."

  Seb realized that - despite the quantity of wine he'd drunk - he felt completely sober.

  "Look, Walt," he said. "Thank you for what you did. Don't think that I'm ungrateful. But I feel like I'm losing my mind here. I've been attacked, now I'm being hunted."

  He leaned forward and grabbed Walt's wrist, his voice cracking. "Nothing - nothing is what I thought it was. Something has happened to me - I've changed. I don't know. Everything is different. I feel like I should have lost my mind, but I'm just about holding it all together. And now you. You seem to know what's going on, you just happen to be on this train, just happen to be sitting at the only table with a free seat, just happen to be able to change my face - my face! - when the bad guys come calling. Don't take this the wrong way, but why the hell should I trust you?"

  Walt opened his mouth, but Seb leaned further forward, his face only inches from the other man. Was that a sudden flash of fear in Walt's eyes?

  "I'm not stupid," said Seb. "Who are you - and how did you know I was here?"

  Nearly half a minute passed in silence as the two men stared each other out.

  "Ok," said Walt. "Ok. It's true, it's no coincidence." Seb released Walt's wrist and sat back.

  "But I didn't find you," said Walt.

  "What do you mean?" said Seb.

  "You found me."

  Walt stood up. "Look, Seb," he said. "I don't expect you to trust me right off the bat. But you're here for the same reason I walked into Sid's store that night. I didn't come looking for you. I was on this train before you were, right?

  Seb frowned. He had no idea how long he had been on the train, or where he'd been before he boarded. Was 'boarded' even the right word?

  "You found me," repeate
d Walt "You need me. But I knew you were coming. Look, it's late, we're both tired. Sleep on it."

  Seb laughed. "I don't feel like I'll ever sleep again."

  "Take my word for it," said Walt, "you'll sleep like a dead man tonight. Sorry," he said, as Seb winced, "bad choice of words. I'm getting off at Albuquerque. You?"

  Seb remembered the tickets. "Me too," he said.

  "Let me give you a ride tomorrow. There's something I want to show you. And I have a proposition."

  Seb hesitated. Walt put out his hand. His face was serious and sincere. Seb sighed, reached out and shook the older man's hand.

  "You're going to find it next to impossible to find anyone who understands anything about what you're going through. And friends can be few and far between when you've discovered Manna, believe me. Go to bed. We'll talk in Albuquerque." He turned and walked out of the dining car.

  Seb looked after him for a long moment. Manna?

  Getting on the superliner bed fully clothed, he stretched out and sighed. He had never been a good sleeper. And after the craziest day of his life, he was convinced he wouldn't be able to sleep at all.

  Three seconds after his head touched the pillow, Seb slipped into the deepest sleep he had ever experienced. And - for the first time in as long as he could remember - there were no dreams.

  Chapter 14

  The day was well established by the time Seb opened his eyes, sunlight flickering through the flimsy curtains. Never a morning person, he marveled at the energy he felt as he sprang out of bed and went into the bathroom. He didn't need a shower to make him feel invigorated, but took one anyway. He rubbed his chin. Still no stubble. Shame, he had always thought he looked better with a couple days' growth. He grabbed a brush and looked up at the mirror again, immediately dropping the brush, stepping backward, slipping and nearly ending up back in the shower.