The dozen bat-creatures are pointing spears at him. Allan’s stomach tightens, and he vomits over the armrest. All the spears move back. Some of the creatures flee in a flurry of flapping wings.
Allan’s mind tries to piece together what he sees. The heads of the creatures are ten feet from the floor and dark gray in color. They’re as agile on the ceiling as bats.
Allan remembers something Asantia had told him when they were on the sailboat on Lan Darr. She’d visited a planet filled with caves and populated by an upside-down species. She called them, what was it, Peebles.
Allan holds his hands up, feeling the return of his senses. “I come in peace. Are you Peebles? I’m a friend. Do you understand me?”
The crowd murmurs, and heads turn back and forth. Allan can’t help but notice the sharp, jagged edges of the spears, which are silvery stones, chipped like Indian arrowheads. The shafts are crooked, purple poles. Asantia didn’t mention if the Peebles were violent or not. Only that they lived upside down. But they didn’t kill her, so that’s something.
The crowd shuffles awkwardly, and the spears are moved away. The crowd on the ceiling parts, and out comes a tall figure. It releases from the ceiling, flips, and lands next to Allan. The lightstone, still clutched in Allan’s fingers, illuminates its face. It has small eyes, foggy-white dots on its head, a boney facial structure, and thin tight skin. Long soft hair fills the sides of its neck like a fur scarf. The same soft hair that Allan had seen up close on the chest of the creature that pulled him from the water. The creature looks angry, violent. Allan recoils as it sniffs him.
Thick dark veins cover defined muscles and boney joints, and it has huge, sharp teeth. It’s over seven feet tall, has two muscular arms, a little bit of fur on its chest, on its thighs, and around its neck. Two huge wings are folded on its back.
The creature leans so close to Allan he can smell its fishy, hot breath. It snorts through two nose holes. It must not see very well. Allan holds his breath, noticing the bat-creature’s porous, oily skin. It looks over Allan’s face, hair, chair, and legs, snorting small noises the whole time. When it’s finished inspecting Allan, it straightens up and moves back out of Allan’s personal space. It is silent for a grueling few moments.
Allan’s whole body wraps up in a veneer of anticipation. The creature isn’t ratty or grungy like the majority of creatures on Lan Darr. It is powerful and sleek, and has intelligent mannerisms. Allan feels like bowing to it, but remains pressed back into his chair, waiting for cues that will tell him how to act properly. He remembers his teacher speaking about tribal cultures in history. She’d often say, “There is mystery, magic, and wisdom in the traditions of ancient peoples and they should be respected and admired.” Allan couldn’t agree more.
“You speak Boldary. Asantia taught us Boldary speak.” Its voice is deep and soft.
“I know Asantia. She’s a friend. You understand friend?” Allan responds quickly.
“Yes. We are Peebles.” The Peeble turns to look up at the crowd still hanging from the ceiling. “He is friend! He needs more light! Like Asantia did.”
The crowd hisses and clacks their spears together in excitement. “Quickly! He might become cranky without light. Asantia was unpleasant without light!”
More lights flicker on. Many more lights. The room where Allan sits, dripping wet, is a house-sized alcove in the wall of the huge cavern. Stalactites hang down in varying sizes, and stalagmites protrude up. The small area around Allan had been flattened.
The Peeble next to Allan bows. “Come. Let us feed you good things. Asantia is good friend, and any friend of hers is very popular here.” Most of the other Peebles skitter on the ceiling and then fly away. Only a dozen or so stay behind.
A Peeble with lighter skin clambers around a large stalactite and looks down to Allan. “Many days since we’ve hosted a Boldarian.” This creature’s voice is light and airy like a female’s voice. It also has jewelry made of large colorful gems hanging from a tight chain around its neck.
“Th… thank you for having me,” Allan replies, looking up. He notices the cavern lighting up and rolls himself to the edge of the alcove. Thousands of lights create a wave of illumination that extends as far as the eye can see. The darkness now resembles a city. The light comes from alcoves and tunnels, not buildings. The center of everything is a large body of water, and jutting through it are the tall archways that hold the stairway Allan fell from.
“Welcome, Boldarian, to Peebland.”
Why are they calling me a Boldarian? And why is English called Boldary speak? Allan snaps his fingers. Adam Boldary must have taught English to Lan Darrians, and Asantia brought it here. “I’m so glad you speak English, er, Boldary speak,” Allan says as he admires the view.
“Yes, we love Asantia! We love you! What is your name?”
“Allan Westerfield.”
Four younger-looking Peebles fly into the alcove and land on the ground. They hold skewers loaded with morsels of food. They giggle as they approach. One shorter Peeble drapes a black leather cape over Allan’s shoulders. It resembles black wings. Multiple hands smooth out his damp hair, and a crown of small, delicate skulls and bones is set on his head. He’s handed a sharp skewer with five stabbed round objects. The young ones fly up to the ceiling where the others are.
“Eat, eat!” the female says. “Asantia loved to eat. She especially loved our Loobus Tezzy Balls.”
Allan slips the round morsel off the stick and shrugs. “If Asantia loves them, I do, too.” He’s never been an adventurous eater, often turning his nose up at anything other than meat and potatoes, but those mental restrictions evaporate in an instant.
“Hooah!” the Peebles cheer.
Allan places the object in his mouth. A bitter, slimy sensation triggers his gag reflex, and he spits it out.
The crowd gasps and takes a step back.
Allan’s lips flatten out, “Oh it’s good. I… just took too big of a bite. That’s all.” The crowd is appeased, but they still stare down at him. Allan takes another slimy ball and bites it in half. He suppresses rejecting the disgusting morsel of food and swallows it. “If you can’t play, get out of the game,” he mumbles to himself, using one of Rubic’s many favorite sayings. He pops the rest of the food into his mouth and gulps quickly. “Delicious!” he lies.
“HOOAH, ALLAN!” The Peebles yell.
Allan leans back in his chair, balancing on the large wheels. “Hooah for me!”
Chapter 11
A Good Friend of Allan’s
Rubic leaps off the bed and hunkers behind the footboard. He’d just seen a figure staring into his window tapping on the glass with a knife, and it sent his body’s adrenaline into a tailspin. He tries to focus on what to do, though the slamming of his heart distracts his thoughts. He has to assume the man will try and come inside. Rubic peeks at the window then withdraws. He’s not sure, but his eyes tell him there is no one there. Rubic peeks again, lingering out in the open. The figure is gone. What to do? What to do? “My phone,” he whispers, remembering his phone is on the kitchen counter. Or is it on the desk? His teeth grind, and he peeks again at the window. Only a steady stream of moonlight filters through the window and paints the carpet.
Had he imagined the person there? Rubic shakes his head. Not a chance. He’s going to need to make a run for his phone, and since he doesn’t know where he left it, he’ll have to guess. If an intruder gets inside the home, he might have only one chance. “Where did I leave it?” He thumps his forehead. “Think.”
Rubic’s eyes land on the closet mirrored door, and he forgets the phone. He leaps to the door and slides it open. At the bottom of the closet is his late brother’s safe covered by clothes. Rubic pushes the clothes off then sweeps aside shoe boxes. He spins the dial to fifty-three, but his brain stalls on the next number. “What was your code again?” Rubic shrieks at his memory. “Come on. I don’t have much time here.” Rubic spins the dial to ten, and then to thirty-two. He pulls on t
he handle, but it’s still locked. His heart sinks, but he can’t give up. He focuses on the dial and the numbers. Possibilities swim in his brain and anger pushes through his panic.
Shattering glass startles Rubic. It was the sliding glass door in the living room. Someone just gained entry into his home and isn’t being very subtle about it. A fresh wave of adrenaline fills Rubic’s body.
His eyes focus, and his fingers steady on the dial. Rubic spins the dial back to fifty-three. That number is right. He turns it to eleven, and then twenty-two. No luck.
There are heavy footsteps cracking and snapping the broken glass.
Rubic spins the dial back to fifty-three. “Come on, memory. Speak to me. Come on!” he pleads to the safe. The intruder will be in the bedroom in moments. He can hardly catch his breath the fear is so thick in his chest.
The bedroom doorway knob jiggles, but it’s locked.
Eleven is right, it has to be. Rubic then spins the dial to twenty-six. The safe handle turns! He yanks the door open and reaches inside.
The bedroom door handle bursts off, landing near Rubic’s feet, and the door swings open on well-lubricated hinges.
Rubic turns on his knees and points a handgun at the intruder. “Stop! I will shoot you in the face,” Rubic roars. “And I won’t feel bad about it.” He’s shaking and unable to focus in the dark.
The figure steps into the room and into the strip of moonlight. It’s someone wearing a costume. But it has a thin long neck, too thin for any human. Goggles, glowing with red lights, stare down at Rubic over a long sharp beak. Spines circle the shoulders like a collar and protrude from the arms.
“Okay dude, go back to whatever idiot club you came from. I’m armed and dangerous!” Rubic puts his finger on the trigger. His palms are sweaty and it’s been so long since he fired a gun, he wondered if he could.
The glowing lenses elongate, and the aperture narrows, focusing on Rubic. The intruder raises an arm. In the moonlight it looks like it’s holding a knife. Long spikes dangle from the arm like icicles. It takes a step forward.
Rubic squeezes the trigger. The gun clicks. He cocks back the top slide, which should, in theory, load a bullet into the chamber, and flips the safety off. The strange figure steps forward again, so Rubic re-aims and pulls the trigger. Only a click sounds in the room. The clip doesn’t even have any bullets.
The figure reaches out with long sharp fingers and takes the gun. He was wrong about it holding a knife. It has long pointy gloves on. Rubic holds up his fists. “I’m gonna box your ears in, freak’o.” He’s about ready to leap to his feet when the figure steps back, turns, and uses a long pointy finger to flip on the light switch. Yellow light floods the room from the lamps overhead.
Rubic can’t believe his eyes. He blinks furiously as though at any second, the creature will disappear or be replaced by a normal, hooded intruder. His fists are still up and tightly closed. “W… what do you want? Take anything. I don’t have much.”
The figure drops its arm. The quills click on each other like they’re made of ceramic. Its beak opens, and it speaks in a low hollow voice. “Get up, you’re embarrassssing yoursssself.”
Without thinking, Rubic stands. His feet tingle, and his body is completely numb.
The costume is unbelievably well made. Rubic’s eyes search for a strap, a button, a fold, a sticker, a seam, or any kind of flaw. Nothing. The quills are dense and solid. The wrinkles around the figure’s eyes and at the end of its beak are fleshy and fine. He notices the thin ostrich legs. No human leg could fit into a costume that thin. It isn’t a costume at all.
“Sss, I’m Jibbawk. Do you know who I am?” it snarls.
Rubic remembers the name instantly. “You’re from Lan Darr?” His brain cycles through the stories Allan had told him. “You helped Allan survive and return to Earth?”
Jibbawk straightens its back then is motionless for a moment. It clears its throat and nods. “Sss, yessss, that is right. I am Allan’s friend. I’m not here to hurt you, you fool.”
Rubic lowers his fists. The light begins to hurt his eyes. He sways then stumbles to the bed and sits. The room spins for a moment and he feels a cold sensation emanate from his bones. “Give me a moment, Jibbawk. I… have to process this. Either I’m dreaming or Allan was telling the truth the whole time.”
“Fine, I can wait, but not for too long. I’ve got important meetings in Dantia to attend. I’m the mayor after all. I’m… one of the good guys.” Jibbawk pushes out its chest and tosses the gun into the corner of the room. It taps its large finger-talons on its knee.
“I always thought that boy had a delusion on the mountain. I never even considered he was telling the truth. I… never really listened to him.” Rubic feels tears coming to his eyes. He turns to Jibbawk and cracks a smile. “I’m… it’s nice to meet you, Jibbawk. What kind of help do you need? How did you know where to find him… me… us?”
Jibbawk shrugs. “Allan left his location with me.”
“He gave you his address?”
“Yessss, of coursssse. I promissssed I’d visit him.” Jibbawk takes off the thick goggles. Its eyes are vertically slit like a viper, and they glow. It’s soft like a bioluminescent glow, but red instead of blue. “He made me promissse to come and meet you and the family. He told me how to find the houssse.” Jibbawk looks around. “It is a nice houssse. I do apologize for breaking the glassss door, and your bedroom door. I’m not familiar with Earth handles, yet.” Jibbawk clicks his claws together. “Tricky with claws, you see.”
Rubic huffs. “Yeah, well, on Earth we tend to knock first.”
“I sssee.”
Jibbawk takes off a white, hard-shell backpack and presses a button. The top flips up like a step-open trashcan, and a rack automatically rises up on three poles. The rack has two shelves with stuff on them. Jibbawk places the goggles on the top shelf then presses down the rack until it’s inside the backpack shell. The top flips closed. “Where is Allan? Do you know? I’d love to give him a big hug.” Jibbawk blinks, tipping its head to the side. Where the beak joins its head, the skin is dimpled and wrinkled and bends upward in a smile.
Rubic blinks, realizing how dry his eyes have gotten. His shoulders relax. “He’s not here. We’re all looking for him. He’s been trying to find that Hubbu flower for months, and he finally found some. So I guess he’s gone to Lan Darr.”
Jibbawk puts on the backpack, which clips to his shoulders. “Fantastic. Take me to the flower he found. I know they’re close.”
Rubic stands and leads Jibbawk to Allan’s bedroom. “You know, I wish I’d paid closer attention to Allan. But I do remember how much you helped him. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you were there to lead him home. I don’t remember the girl’s name, but I know she helped as well. Without you two, Allan may have never come home.”
Jibbawk chuckles. “Ah, sssuch a good boy he is. He was inssstrumental in my progressss as well.”
Rubic opens Allan’s door and steps into the room, pointing to the closet.
Jibbawk rushes to the closet and takes the Tupperware into its pointy hands.
“Got some pointy fingers, huh.” Rubic smiles and rubs the ends of his own fingers. “I thought they were knives.”
Jibbawk shrugs, “A curssse of my forefathers, they are. I’ve tools that allow me to use microscopesss and ssscales, and I can write fair and positive legislation.” Jibbawk scrapes at the pollen left in the Tupperware and inspects it.
“Sss, I have to confesss, I’m here on more than a sssocial call,” Jibbawk says as he sets the Tupperware down.
“Really?”
“As mayor of Dantia, my job is to try and create a fairer sssociety. One with compassion and, well, fairnessss.”
“Sure, I recall the city Allan spoke of as being a little scary at times.” Rubic folds his arms.
“Yesss, and, uh, I need Allan to testify in front of the councccil. I believe they will ressspond to a personal, heartwarming experienccce. And A
llan is very well ssspoken.”
“Wow, that’s great. I know for a fact that he’d love to help. This is fantastic. I’ll come too.” Rubic feels like his facial expression is going to lift so high it’d pull him off his feet, but with effort, he maintains his composure.
“Sss, of courssse, together we’ll find him. The council meetsss in ssseven sssunrises.” Jibbawk pats Rubic on his shoulders.
Rubic can’t think, he’s so excited. Not only will he find Allan, but probably Laura too. Rubic reflects on Allan’s behavior the last year. Everything makes sense now. Allan is not a crazy schizophrenic boy who made up a fantasy world. He’s a normal teen who’d had an adventure of a lifetime. An adventure no one believed.
“Let’s go. I’m ready.”
“You might want to get dressssed.”
Rubic looks at his fish-stamped pajamas. “Right. Give me a moment.” Rubic races out of Allan’s bedroom and into his own where he dresses in jeans, a beige button-up shirt, hiking shoes, and an Australian wide-brimmed hat. He grabs his hiking backpack from the closet and his fishing vest.
“You will need gear. Allan is not on his way to Lan Darr. He didn’t use the right Hubbu flowers. The purple pollen will have taken him to Peebland. The Peebles live there. They are, how can I sssay, unsssophisticated.”
Rubic nods. His backpack is already full of camping gear; all he needs is some food and water. In moments, he’s ready.
Rubic slams the refrigerator door closed and slips on the backpack. “How do we get to Peebland?” Rubic asks. “Do we need to use the thingy Allan set up in his closet?” Rubic eyes the quills on Jibbawk’s body and steps back. They look brutally sharp and unforgiving.
“No. It is more sssimple than that. The pollen activatesss when it falls. The particles open tiny holes in ssspace, which connect, creating an ever-widening hole. Like oil in water.” Jibbawk takes its backpack off and retrieves a metal can from the bottom shelf. Rubic notices a pistol-like object on the same shelf, though its alien nature leaves him questioning his assumptions. Maybe it isn’t a gun at all.
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