As she watched the scene unfold before her, Ariel knew that this brutality was not random. These men were searching for something or someone. A shiver ran down her spine as she realised that she was most likely the object of their search.
Through the dust and smoke, a familiar figure emerged from one of the huts. It was Patrail. His short troll-like figure took on a demonic form as he was silhouetted against the blazing orange flames of the hut burning behind him. Yet he did not look the strutting bully that Ariel had seen earlier that day. He was red-faced and breathless, a sheen of oily sweat visible on his dirty face. He was dragging a man out of the hut by his hair. Even from this distance Ariel could see that the man was severely battered and looked unconscious. Patrail glanced down at him, spat on the road and aimed a kick to the man’s side. He then turned to the rest of the villagers. Patrail roared in full voice, spittle visibly flying from his mouth.
‘If any of you scum are harboring the bastard child of Dariew you will pay with your lives!’
He aimed another kick at the unconscious man at his feet. He was clearly trying to send a message. Patrail pointed to the man on the ground and yelled.
‘Any of you even think about helping that girl, you will face Lord Largo’s wrath.’ He gave the man a shove with his foot. ‘What he will do to you will make you wish you were this man!’
Ariel stood, undecided for a moment, then remembering Reynaldo’s warning she knew the time had come for her to leave Walhalla. Retrieving the charm she concentrated on the words safety and America then closed her hand around the charm. The now familiar spinning sensation passed through her and Ariel felt herself flying through a whirlwind of colour toward safety.
Chapter 22
Ariel landed with a thump. Slowly she opened her eyes. Wincing at the pain in her side she wondered where was she now. The first thing that struck her was the smell; an overpowering reek of exhaust fumes and garbage assailed her nostrils. Turning her head, she saw that she was underneath a small bridge. A dirty sheen could be seen on nearby pools of greenish water. Ariel turned away in disgust. She could not help but compare this water to the clear golden liquid of the Tranquil Lake.
Sitting up, Ariel saw she was once again dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. The leather bag that she had carried in Walhalla had become a backpack. Looking around she saw the usual discarded human waste: empty drink cans, bottles, cardboard boxes and food wrappers choked the small waterway.
Peering under the bridge, Ariel saw a collection of broken glass vials and syringes. A rusty abandoned shopping cart leaned at a drunken angle in the creek. Shuddering, she wondered what her parents and Reynaldo had thought of this world after the remarkable, natural beauty of Walhalla. Everything from the air that she now breathed to the colours of her surroundings seemed covered in a thick brown haze. She wondered how she could not have noticed it before. For a moment the clarity of Walhalla air and the rich colours and fragrances filled her consciousness.
Ariel knew that she had to return to Walhalla as soon as possible. Too much was at stake to forget the world that was now her home. Her witnessing of the treatment of the local people brought home to her how much Largo needed to be removed as ruler. She had to rescue Reynaldo! Somehow, deep down, she knew that he was still alive and as he had rescued her she now must go to his aid and rescue him. Ariel again thought of Marco, her friend and confidante. More than anything she wished that she had him to talk to; someone to listen to her and help her decide her next move. But she was alone!
She checked the contents of her backpack to see if she still had the food that was given to her by Lucien. As she opened the zipper an unpleasant odor emerged from the bag. Ariel peered inside and saw a moldy collection of fruit and a discoloured lump of cheese. The food was inedible. Ariel looked for somewhere to dispose of the rotten provisions. Ariel could see a rusty overflowing garbage can at the top of the rise beside the creek. Hearing an occasional swish of cars, Ariel realised that the bridge she was under connected a roadway. For a moment she sat near the stagnant creek to collect her thoughts and decide on a plan.
Ariel remembered Reynaldo explaining to her the differences in time and distance between her world and Walhalla. It appeared to be early evening, as the sun was slowly sinking below the horizon. The colours that accompanied the sunset looked pale and washed out when compared to the spectacular colours of the sky that Ariel had witnessed in Walhalla. She wondered how long she would have to remain here before it was safe to leap back. For a moment she wished for the security of the orphanage. The uncertainty and confusion of being alone in a strange place frightened her. She had never been a girl who cried easily as the difficulty and strictness of her upbringing left no room for emotional reactions. Now, however, sitting on the banks of an unfamiliar creek, in a state as yet unknown, Ariel felt tears sliding down her face.
The tears, a combination of fear and despair, washed tracks through the dirt on Ariel’s cheeks. Ariel swallowed a hard lump in her throat and angrily brushed the hot tears away from her eyes. She could not give up now! Even though she had been alone in Walhalla and knew men were hunting for her there, she felt far safer in Walhalla than she now did in the land that she once had called home. Her short time with Reynaldo had given her a strength and a reserve that Ariel knew she would need when it came to tackle this new challenge that she now faced.
Ariel composed herself and after a few minutes slowly walked up the rise to the roadway. She disposed of the spoiled food and then looked around for some indication as to her location. The road was a single lane highway. A worn and pitted blacktop stretched for a seemingly infinite distance in both directions. A line of barbed wire fences ran down both sides of the highway indicating that this was an area of farmland. The sight of the rusty barbed wire marking individual property lines reminded her that the fields of grain that she had seen in Walhalla were not fenced off. The sense of community was so much stronger in Walhalla as villages either thrived or struggled as one. The more she saw the more she knew that Walhalla was where she wanted to be.
Looking left and right, she tried to guess which way led to the nearest town. Instinctively she turned right and began walking along the crumbling edge of the blacktop. Approximately ten minutes later she saw a sign, Brentonville 10 miles with State of Kansas printed in chipped, faded letters across the top of the sign. Ariel stopped for a moment, stunned. The short distance that she had travelled in Walhalla had brought her across two states of America.
As she concentrated on the sign, Ariel did not notice the police car slowly cruising to a halt behind her. The slamming of a car door made her jump in fright. She spun around to see a short man with a huge belly hanging over his tan pants approach her. Ariel tried not to give away her fear as she took in the florid face, grey hair and bushy moustache of the local sheriff. His tin star gave clear indication of his rank. Ariel’s eyes travelled over his sweat-stained shirt and his Stetson hat tilted back on his head. Calculatingly, the Sheriff chewed on a toothpick which protruded from the corner of his mouth and appeared to move of its own volition. An odd smile was on his face as he gave Ariel the once over.
‘Well now, what do we have here?’ he asked snidely, his smile revealing yellowing teeth.
Ariel did not answer. A snort erupted from the sheriff and then he began to chuckle, as if he was enjoying some hilarious joke. The light in his eyes was not jovial though. It was mean and calculating. For reasons that she did not understand Ariel sensed that the sheriff was delighted to have found her. As he continued to stare at Ariel his laughter settled and he waited for a response; a response that did not come as quickly as he would have liked.
The sheriff cocked his head and the smile slowly disappeared from his face.
‘You hear me, girl?’ he continued, his tone steely. ‘You simple or something? When Sheriff Dwayne Hobbs asks questions, he gets answers, understand me?’
A second man stepped out of the car, the exact physical opposite of Sheriff Hobbs. Tall and lanky
with a thick mop of sandy coloured hair, he slowly approached the sheriff in a strange, stiff-legged gait. His uniform seemed less stained than the sheriffs’ although his trousers ended above his ankles giving him an odd scarecrow-like appearance. This image was enhanced by the prominent Adam’s apple in his throat and his large, protruding top teeth. Sheriff Hobbs glanced at the second man.
‘Well, lookie here Frank. Looks like we got us a runaway,’ the sheriff said to him. The second man grinned, revealing his large buck teeth.
‘I reckon so, sheriff,’ he replied also eyeing Ariel up and down and grinning. ‘She’s pretty though. Shame the cute ones can be the most troublesome.’
Sheriff Hobbs chuckled and gave Frank a sideways glance.
‘Now ain’t that the truth, Frank?’ Sheriff Hobbs casually turned his attention back to Ariel, his expression sour, his intent, menacing
‘You got a name missy?’
Ariel thought for a moment,
‘My name is Carlie Reynolds.’
Sheriff Hobbs nodded.
‘Real pretty name.’ He paused for a moment, his unpleasant smile appearing again. ‘If that is your real name?’
‘Well Miss Carlie Reynolds,’ he continued in a sarcastic tone. ‘Why would you be out walking a national highway on this fine fall evening?’
Ariel blinked at his sarcasm. He had made an official question sound like polite conversation. She knew that she had to sound convincing. She knew that she was in serious trouble. This man was totally different to her previous experiences with a bully. Her mind went back to what she had observed of Patrail. He was definitely a bully, but a few seconds observation would show that he was fairly stupid. Sheriff Hobbs reminded her of pictures she had seen of a rattlesnake, a creature that appeared lazy and unfocussed — that is until it was time to strike. She knew she must not underestimate this man.
Casually she shrugged one shoulder and looked past his left ear as if she was used to being questioned by police.
‘It seemed like a nice night for a walk,’ Ariel remarked, looked straight into his eyes and a small smile touched her lips, her tone casual.
Sherriff Hobbs’ eyebrows went up at her tone. Clearly he was not expecting such a direct and unafraid response.
Gesturing with a thumb over his shoulder he motioned towards the police car and ground out: ‘Git in the car. We don’t like young girls wanderin’ the streets in Brentonville.’ He added with a wink, ‘it ain’t safe.’
Ariel realised that she had no choice but to obey. Her stomach churned at the prospect of being thrown in jail. She walked towards the rear door that was held open by the man named Frank. His broad grin was unnerving; she had never seen a person who could smile and look threatening at the same time. Inside the patrol car was another world. The heater running in the car combined with the warmth of the late afternoon sun made things unpleasant. It magnified the intensity of the odors that Ariel could now smell as she stuck her head inside; the smell of fetid body odor, cigarettes and stale coffee almost made her wretch. The black vinyl seat was stained in several places. Ariel saw one large dark reddish brown stain near her thigh and hoped that it was not blood.
The two men slid into the front seat, the driver’s seat sliding back to accommodate Sheriff Hobbs’ belly. He turned and grinned at her again.
‘I reckon Mr. Largo at Brentonville Correctional can teach a smart mouthed young gal like you some manners.’
Ariel’s world swam before her eyes as time froze for a moment and the name Largo sank in. Ariel felt a clutch of fear. It couldn’t be the same man, could it? It just couldn’t be!
Chapter 23
Ariel sat in the back seat of the police car, her mind racing at this frightening turn of events. It seemed incredible that the man to whom they referred could be the same man who had brought such destruction to her Walhalla. She remembered Reynaldo telling her that Largo had found a way to travel between realms. She now wondered if he somehow had followed Ariel’s movements and pursued her. The thought that someone who was unknown to her could be watching her from a distance terrified her.
It made Ariel wonder just how long she had been watched and by whom. Was it only Largo who was the main threat to her life? She remembered Reynaldo talking about Largo possibly being controlled by a powerful and magical being. Unexpectedly Ariel shuddered. Although there was no question in her mind that she wanted to return to Walhalla, she now felt a genuine fear; she thought that, with her powers, she could deal with Largo. Then again possibly dealing with a magical being who clearly wanted her dead was unimaginably terrifying.
Sheriff Hobbs and his deputy chatted idly about the previous night’s ball game, both arguing heatedly over the umpiring. While their attention was diverted Ariel wondered if she should remove and hide the charm that was still concealed beneath her clothing. Eventually, she decided that it was too risky to remove it without Sheriff Hobbs noticing. Ariel’s thoughts returned to the countryside through which they were travelling. Soon, Sheriff Hobbs turned onto a small dirt road. Fields of corn lined the roadway, their dried wilted heads nodding in a strong breeze, creating an eerie rustling sound that came in through the open windows of the police car.
After driving for another ten minutes the car crested a hill. Before them was a huge facility, a large, three-story cinder-block building with two wings extending from the central building. A high, chain-link fence surrounded the facility with three layers of barbed wire topping it. A large sign with Brentonville Juvenile Correctional Facility emblazoned on it sat on one side of padlocked double gates. The police car cruised to a halt and Ariel noticed a call box sitting beside the road.
The call box sat on a stand that was rusted and showed years of neglect like the institution that it served. The box itself was a dirty brown red and caked in dust and cracked from years of weathering. At that moment, Ariel felt as alone and beaten as that call box; Ariel thought of Largo – could it really be him? A slow, mounting terror started to build in Ariel as she realised that Largo could be waiting for her.
The box crackled and a thin, reedy male voice spoke.
‘Brentonville. What do you want?’
Sheriff Hobbs glanced at his deputy and frowned.
‘It’s Sheriff Hobbs, sonny. You go ahead and tell Mr. Largo that I have a new inmate for him.’ He paused. ‘By the way, you want to use a more respectful tone when speaking to me, boy.’
He chuckled and said ‘You remember, boy. You won’t be under Largo’s care forever.’
A tense silence followed his statement then the voice replied in a meeker tone.
‘Sorry Sheriff. I’ll tell Mr. Largo right away.’
A short time later a figure could be seen emerging from the half-light of the early evening. The figure turned out to be a scrawny teenage boy who was wearing a plain blue shirt and ill-fitting denim jeans. His face was covered in acne. He approached the gate and produced a huge key-ring from his pocket. He selected a large old-fashioned key and unlocked the padlock that was holding the gates closed. With a push the gates slid open on their tracks.
The police car cruised through the opening and Ariel could not help but notice the look of resentment on the boy’s face after Sheriff Hobbs had passed him. The car continued down the long driveway and came to a jerking stop at the front of the central cinder-block building.
Chapter 24
The front door opened and a tall, dark-haired man emerged from the building. He was dressed in a dazzling white shirt and crisp, black trousers. He walked slowly to the edge of the short porch and smiled, revealing very white and even teeth. Ariel felt a chill as his black eyes zeroed in on the back window of the police cruiser. The man had an air of restrained power about him that demanded attention. If this was the same Largo whom she had come to fear she could understand the people of Walhalla and their reluctance to stand up to him.
‘Good evening Sheriff Hobbs and Deputy Joliffe. So nice to see you.’ His voice had an almost syrupy quality, with a hint of
steel underneath. As he spoke his eyes moved from Hobbs, whom he seemed to dismiss, then settled on Deputy Joliffe. Ariel saw the deputy squirm for a moment and then dash around the car. Largo smiled as if enjoying the deputy’s obvious discomfort.
Deputy Joliffe was normally self-assured and a known neighbourhood bully; not to mention that he was Sheriff Hobbs’ right hand man. Yet Joliffe experienced a moment of nausea when Largo’s black eyes landed on him. Joliffe could not understand why the Sheriff did not see what was odd about this man. Possibly he did but, as this man had been rewarding them financially for several years, Sheriff Hobbs probably did not care. Sure, the money was good but the man just gave him the creeps for reasons that he could not and did not want to understand.
The deputy opened the back door of the cruiser and motioned Ariel to step out beside him. The odors in the police car were making Ariel’s eyes and nose sting, yet somehow it seemed like a safe haven when she looked at the alternative. Finally, she gritted her teeth and stepped out; her mouth dry and her heart pounding in her chest, fear making her palms clammy.
For a long moment predator and prey regarded each other. Largo’s eyes got bigger and a flash of white teeth showed. He knew who she was. Ariel had no doubt of that. He continued to smile at her.
‘So tell me about this charming young lady,’ he continued, his eyes never leaving Ariel.
‘She claims her name is Carlie Reynolds. She’s a runaway, probably a thief as well. Either way, she’s trouble,’ Sheriff Hobbs replied, smirking at Ariel.
Ariel’s eyes turned in mingled shock and rage at the Sheriff’s unfounded accusation.
‘Thank you, Sheriff,’ Largo responded. ‘I am sure we can teach this young lady the importance of honesty.’
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