by Rowan Casey
They approached the subway station which serviced the B, M, and Q lines, orange, yellow, and light blue signage reminding him of Christmas ornaments. It was larger than many stations closer to the now-charred remains of his home and he figured it would at least be somewhat safe. Reaching for a few singles, he went to the automated ticket machine and bought two roundtrip tickets, determined they had extra trips at their disposal – just in case. Once through the turnstiles they saw the bright fluorescent lighting shine on people coming and going, loud and raucous. It was, after all, Friday night, when people went out and did fun things. Back at the home, Friday wasn’t anything special, but he knew enough from his high school friends that it was a night to cut loose. Some ate out, went to the movies, bowled, got high, or got laid. They’d hang out and just while away the hours, shucking and jiving one another, happy to be alive in the summer. A part of him longed for such freedom but no, his freedom, was of an entirely different kind.
They studied a subway map, tracing which direction each of the four different lines went, killing time until they could figure out a next step. He was feeling adrift, waiting once more for some sort of sign, something he could see with his newfound sight, anything that would direct them. Instead, he smelled stale urine, saw nothing out of the ordinary, and heard people worrying about the Second Coming without first saving souls. Hannah paused to listen for a few minutes then shook her head in disgust and stalked away.
“Do you have any idea how to find our way to these underground communities?” she asked.
“Of course not, but I figure if we watch, we’ll see several and then follow,” he said.
Hannah made an unhappy face. “Not much of a plan.”
“We’ve been working on little else but one thing at a time,” he said.
“So far, I’m not impressed.”
“Faith. We have been following bread crumbs…”
“With little to show for it,” she interjected.
“I hoped we’d find the horn and move on, but I also knew it could take time. We’ll just have to take it one day at a time.”
“I’m game, but I’m also giving this a few days. If we wind up with nothing, we need a new plan. I figure once we’re down to our last ten bucks, we call for help.”
“That could be tomorrow,” he grumbled, more to himself than her.
“Who do we call for help? Grimm? He didn’t exactly leave us a number or offer us help. Did your reading indicate Arthur or Merlin ever came to help the knights? No, they helped themselves and that’s what we’re going to have to do.”
“You keep thinking we’re following those stories. But that’s just it, they were stories. Legends. They even contradict one another. I’m supposed to be a cousin to Lancelot but it turns out Lancelot was a French creation, tacked on to the English legend. How do you reconcile all that?”
Daniel shook his head. He was tired, she was stressed. And yet, she was asking really good questions, the kind of he wished they had asked Grimm back at Avalon. These were questions that had to be asked at some point, when this was over. Some of it had to be true, he knew that deep down in his soul, but beyond a feeling of certainty were fears and concerns, questions and doubts that gnawed at him.
“We may as well scout the station and see what we see,” Hannah said with a resigned air and spun on her heel, readjusted her backpack, and strode off toward the stairs to the platforms. As they descended an escalator, Daniel heard a trumpet, someone playing solo. It was fast and vaguely familiar, some show tune.
As they got to the bottom, they spotted the man in raggedy, dark clothing, in a suit jacket despite the tunnel trapping the summer heat. He was an old, black-skinned man, gray hair cut short and white stubble around his chin. The long fingers pumped the keys and he blew perfect note after perfect note. It was better than anything they had heard at the festival. There was something soulful in the music, something pure.
As Daniel stared, he watched as the instrument shimmered, the air warping around it like heat waves. The fingers continued to move but the gold faded to something dun-colored, the keys vanishing and the fingers touching nothing. The trumpet lengthened and gained ornate designs, tapering toward the mouthpiece, widening at the opposite end. Daniel stared then blinked to make certain he wasn’t letting his exhausted mind work overtime. The horn was there in that old man’s hands. He blinked a second time and the horn remained visible.
“Do you see it?” he whispered.
“See what?” Hannah studied him then turned to look at the musician, a case by his feet with a few crumpled dollar bills inside it.
“He’s playing the horn.”
“The horn? You mean he has the horn of whatever you call it?”
“Yeah, the Horn of Brân Galed.”
“Do you think he knows he’s playing the…Horn of Brân Galed,” she said, slowing down to make certain she pronounced it properly. The tone of her voice had changed. There was a sense of questioning in it, but also something else. Maybe a touch of awe.
“Doesn’t look like it. Tell me, Hannah, what do you see?”
“A trumpet.”
“Anything else, anything out of the ordinary?”
“No. What do you see?”
“I see something that could have once been a ram’s horn, big. No keys and certainly not designed to be played for music.”
“Does he look different to you?”
“No.”
She took several steps for a closer look but stopped when an older woman cut in front of her to drop a dollar in the case. The musician didn’t pause but added a flourish by way of saying thanks. The air around the horn shimmered gold at that moment.
“Do you see anything around him? Anything at all?”
Daniel found it an effort to move his gaze from their objective. With a jerk of his head, he looked in all directions. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and he just shook his head.
“Damn. How do you think he got it?”
“I have no idea.”
“Why can’t I see it?” she asked him.
“I don’t know. It’s not like Grimm gave us a manual. You’ve tried looking at it?”
“Yeah, but I still see a trumpet.”
Daniel paused to think for a moment, then closed his eyes. He focused inward and searched his feelings. The song ended and the old man shifted into something older, more melancholy. Something Daniel didn’t recognize, but it caused a spark of recognition in his mind, something that ignited a feeling of certainty. His instincts said he was right, this was the Horn of Brân Galed and that their quest was coming to an end.
“This may sound crazy, but do me a favor. Close your eyes and concentrate on the music.”
Without a word, she lowered her eyelids and stood still. He watched Hannah slow her breathing, concentrating on the sounds. Thirty seconds slid by as the sad song continued, then suddenly her entire body jerked. She steadied herself and took a deep breath before finally opening her eyes.
“It’s really the horn,” she said in a soft voice, a tone he’d never heard from her before.
“How do you know?” he asked.
“I was listening to the music and then something clicked, something seemed to unlock. I was then filled with an absolute certainty that this is the horn. You’re right.”
“Okay, so how do we get it from him?” he asked.
“I have no idea.”
“We need a plan.”
“No kidding. And we can’t steal it. Look at him, I think that’s all he has to earn money.”
“We’re Knights, we don’t steal,” he said then a stab of conscience reminded him that it was just a day ago that he stole his roommate’s money. If Teddy rushed from the room, he may have concluded it was burned up, small consolation that did nothing to assuage Daniel’s guilt.
“And we don’t have the money to even make a realistic offer to buy it off him,” Hannah added.
“We have to think about this,” Daniel said. “He probably plays
here every day so we can give it some thought and come back tomorrow. But right now, we need somewhere to crash.”
“Still no great ideas, huh?”
“You need help?” a dry voice asked.
The teens turned around and saw a woman. It was clear she was a woman, but she was under several layers of coats, sweaters, and shirts despite the hot, humid air. Her thinning, gray hair was under a greasy-looking bandana with two silver studs reflecting the station’s fluorescent light. Daniel stared but couldn’t estimate her age, it could be anywhere from fifty to eighty. Her dried out, paper-thin skin was grimy, dirt caked within the many creases. She was somewhat stooped and was wearing flip-flops that exposed cracked toenails.
Daniel’s sight revealed she was bathed in a pale, butter yellow light which looked anything but threatening. He shot Hannah a quick thumb’s up, silently indicating all was safe. She just nodded.
“You two need somewhere to sleep?”
“Yes,” Hannah said before Daniel could couch it in softer, less needy terms.
“I sleep down there,” she said, gesturing toward the tracks. She was exactly the kind of person Daniel had read about, yet everything about her seemed so sad. Her life had to be incredibly hard, but here she was offering them help.
“You follow me, you can find some space for the night. No cable TV or turn down service, but you will be warm and dry,” the old woman said and laughed at her joke. She paused and cocked her head, listening. With a firm nod of approval that no train was coming, she gestured at them.
Without waiting for a confirmation, she turned and headed for the edge of the platform, where metal rungs were embedded in the concrete and tiles; a ladder leading down to the tracks for the maintenance workers. Not once did she look to see if the scattered passengers waiting for a late night train would say anything to stop her. Daniel looked back at the musician who never seemed to notice them and was now playing something mournful the teen recognized from a movie. The performer looked effortless and serene, standing there playing for the sake of the music. The teens exchanged glances then shrugs before she followed the woman. Once they climbed down the ladder there was a growing rumble of a train in the distance and Daniel instinctively flinched. Hannah did not, still following the woman. They walked single file, Daniel constantly looking at his feet, concerned about rats, knowing they were large and dangerous. There was debris: garbage, rotting food underfoot, and small puddles. He also determined they were not near the third rail so there was minimal risk of electrocution, which gave him some measure of confidence. In fact, his sight was pretty quiet at that moment.
The trio traveled out of sight, the light dimming, but she moved with surety, a familiarity that gave Daniel some confidence. They traveled for a few minutes then the woman turned left into some narrow, dark passageway and there were half-a-dozen people. Each of them appeared old, certainly no younger than middle-age but the dim light of the two incandescent bulbs and grime made it hard to tell. Three were already sleeping under cardboard or threadbare blankets. One was drinking the last liquid from a bottle, wiping his mouth with a torn sleeve. Only one appeared reasonably well-dressed and moderately clean. There were four men and two women total, their belongings in boxes or baskets, one had things wrapped in a tattered moving blanket. There was no conversation as the eyes studied the teenagers. Hannah was just in front of Daniel but they were close, drawing strength from one another. Not that this was a dangerous situation, but it was an unknown one and any of these people could be drunk, high, or mentally deranged. It would have been nice had his sight worked on command but at present, it was off and he had to go with his instincts, which, truth to tell, weren’t all that attuned to homeless people. The old woman, though, gave a gesture, one that seemed to be of welcome.
“It ain’t much, but you can bed down here tonight,” she told them.
Hannah was glancing around and the old woman, who had identified herself as Lizzie, caught on. She beckoned and said, “I’ll show where we do that.” The pair wandered off, leaving Daniel to survey the surroundings. He saw where they could sleep, using their backpacks as pillows and it was warm enough they wouldn’t need blankets. It might work for one night but he couldn’t imagine more than that. They could obtain the horn tomorrow, that might well be a moot point.
The women returned and Lizzie jerked a thumb in the direction they had come from and he went to relieve himself, figuring brushing his teeth would just have to wait until morning. When he settled into his space, Hannah was right beside him. She radiated unneeded warmth but he was pleased she felt comfortable enough to be so close. They were still getting to know one another but there were bonds forming and, he hoped, trust between them. Hannah quickly dropped off and he stretched out, taking one final look around. He had no warning signs, no fear of attack from the Dvergr. His possessions were under his head and he sincerely doubted any of these homeless posed a threat. This was their sanctuary and he was their guest. As those thoughts swam through his mind, it went blank and the world slipped away.
9
Hannah
Food. It was the first thought on Hannah’s mind as she woke up. She was seriously hungry, unaccustomed to such meager fare. More than that, she was thirsty in a way she had never felt before. Those thoughts preoccupied her as she stretched and took in her surroundings. Her neck added new aches to the dull ones still dotting her body. Daniel was on his side, slightly snoring, his mouth ajar. He needs a shave, she thought, and wondered if he’d consider trimming those bushy sideburns, which were not to her taste at all. Then again, who was she to tell him how to look? They were both free to express themselves as they saw fit, especially without the home’s guidelines. The other residents of this concrete shelter, save one, were already up and moving about. Lizzie, their host, was peering from the entrance leading out on to the tracks.
“Morning,” she said cheerfully as Hannah joined her.
“Good morning,” Hannah said.
“You sleep okay?”
“Better than I thought I would,” she said.
“Yepper, the trains don’t go by so often overnight and you get used to it. You’re lucky it’s Saturday, though. Light traffic.”
“What do you do down here?”
Lizzie stared down at Hannah and smiled, showing a gap-toothed mouth and joy in her eyes. “I find things to recycle. There’s always a newspaper or magazine to read. Every now and then I even find a book. I ride from station to station, see the sights. Being summer, yepper, I go to the park and work on my tan.” She cackled at that and Hannah couldn’t tell if the old woman was serious or nuts.
“Billy Jean got lucky last night, brought back two dozen donuts the fools at Dunkin’ Donuts were going to toss. Go help yourself.” Lizzie gestured to a corner where the orange and white boxes stood open. At least half were already gone, but she spotted a strawberry topped one and grabbed it.
As she gobbled, now fully cognizant of just how hungry she was, Daniel joined her. He grabbed a gooey Boston Cream and took a bite. She was amazed that it was gone in three bites and he grabbed an Old Fashioned and started in on it.
“What are you two doing today?”
“I don’t know, Lizzie,” Hannah said. “We have to figure a few things out, right Daniel?”
He was still chewing, so he just nodded his head. She was still hungry but one donut was enough for the moment and her thirst only grew. After brushing her teeth, because she felt absolutely gross, drinking water was the top priority.
“Well, if you find anything, please bring it back to share. Not everyone works that way, but it’s kept my lot together and it works,” the woman said.
“Of course, it’s only fair,” Daniel said.
Lizzie wandered off and out of sight, leaving them alone.
“I need to brush my teeth and we need to figure out when that man is coming back to play the horn,” he said.
“I think we have the day,” she said. “We can go out, figure things out and retu
rn later, I hope, with a plan. I don’t think I can do this a second night.”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one,” Daniel agreed. She hoisted her backpack and headed for the platform, slowing to listen for train traffic. He followed and they were soon back on Atlantic Avenue, seeking an open retail shop that might have working bathrooms. They completed a circle around the isolated triangle where the station resided and suddenly she stopped in her tracks. She pointed across the street to the curved structure across Flatbush Avenue. It was the Atlantic Bus Terminal, a facility that included a terminal for the Long Island Railroad and additional subway lines. Somehow, in their exhaustion the previous night, they somehow missed this option. On the other hand, by bypassing the large station for the more isolated one, they found the horn. That gave her pause and made her wonder if there might actually be a something (she didn’t want to think ‘someone’) nudging them in the right direction.
It was not yet nine in the morning so traffic was light and they dashed across the street and jogged into the station. Sure enough, there were restrooms where the two could freshen up and comfortably change clothes. Hannah brushed her teeth again, long and vigorous, enjoying the cool water as she swished it around her mouth. In a stall, she changed her shirt for a tight, bright yellow cropped one. Ideally, she’d shower and change her underwear, but she could go another day. Everything she did, despite the venue, felt good and normal, a reminder that most things had not changed in the slightest despite their introduction to a world neither could have imagined. Daniel was faster and already in the common area when she emerged. They grinned at one another, clearly feeling the same.
“I need water, stat,” she insisted. She marched to the newsstand and bought the largest bottle they had despite the ridiculous price and chugged a third of it. She was about to continue when he put a hand on her arm. She could literally feel the cool liquid run down her throat and fill her belly, imagining her organs sighing with relief.
