by Zari Reede
Thunder rolled across the sky, and lightning followed. I yelped and dove behind a wagon hitched to two oxen. Thankfully more manly than Miss Silver, they would aid in my getaway.
’Punzel peered out of the tower and called out to me in her sweet, wanton voice. “Please Doctor, don’t abandon me to the wicked witch!”
Her breasts heaved over the window sill, and her hair curled in a waving motion, beckoning me to join her. I had to admit, the broad was compelling. I dug my heels in, and held onto the wagon. I clung to it and pulled myself hand over hand, until I reached the oxen’s bridle and then gave it a snap. The oxen trudged along, and I hiked a leg over one of the wide, muscled backs. My hessian boots looked somewhat askew as I leaned forward, urging the oxen to make a break for the drawbridge.
I had thought the castle was a haven from the giants of Ortharos, but two warring beautiful women is a death sentence for a studious man like me. Hell, one beautiful, non-warring woman was enough. I rode hard for the gate. Lightning clipped the back of the wagon, sending both oxen bolting for the bridge. Big problem, the bridge was up! I said a small prayer, as I saw my end looming. Then the bridge descended. I don’t know who, or what took pity on me, but I did my best rope ’em cowboy, as I rode out of the arena braced between two oxen with a cart flying behind.
“Thank God for small favors,” I called out to nobody in particular.
Relief washed over my oddly clad, exhausted form. I let the oxen take their lead and found myself near a bubbling brook, on the side of a pleasant, open field. The serenity of the space was comforting. Yawning, I unhitched the oxen to take a short nap in the cart full of hay.
Chapter 10
Mindy
I rolled over to throw my arms around my husband, only to find him gone. “Oh, Jim, I miss you,” I whispered as I hugged his pillow.
It held the scent of old books, more hair products than I use, dried ink, and a male scent that was all Jim. The boss had said I could come in late since I worked the evening before. Like clockwork, I woke at the usual time, and Mom peeked her head in to assure me she could take Sammy to school.
I was still luxuriating in bed at eleven a.m.
Bang, bang, bang--BANG! I recognized that knock, but the rent wasn’t due, so why was Stick-up-the-wazoo Stu beating on my door? I stumbled out of bed, mindful to toss a robe on, but unhappy to find the braided rope tie missing. “Coming!” I shouted.
Winnalea appeared at the doorway.
“Are you up for the day, Mums?”
“Ummm...sure,” I replied anxious to answer before Stu woke the whole complex.
“Whilst you speak to yon caller, I will tidy in here.” She gamboled past me.
I scrambled to the front and opened the door. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Nichols, what the hell were you thinking? If your dryer goes out, you go to a laundromat!” Stu waved his arms and blustered as he entered the apartment uninvited. The short, Tootsie Roll of a man had an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Redden, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He gestured to the window. “That!”
Through the cracked window, I saw the missing piece of my robe tied to the faucet. I moved closer. Every belt we owned appeared to be linked together and stretched to the opposite building. All our laundry hung upon it to dry.
“Oh,” I breathed.
“Oh? Get that down!” Biting so hard on his cigar, Stu chomped the end off, spat it into my trash bin, and slammed the door shut as he left.
Winnalea peered out of my room with concern edging the corners of her eyes. “Trouble, Mums?”
“Winnalea...um, we use dryers here.” I had to explain the white boxes, and once I did, the brownie chortled.
“Imagine that! Squares that clean and dry clothes!” She shook her head in amazement. Hand over hand, she traveled to the other building where the clothes line was anchored. Winni undid it and before it could fall and hit the side of our building, she was up and through the window. She’d deciphered our gas stove, and something bubbled over the flames in the giant pot I never used.
While we moved the laundry to the dryer and disentangled the belts, I tried to come up with a way to fix things. I wanted Jim back, but I didn’t want to hurt Winni. “Winni, what happens to the people from here who appear on Ortharos?”
“Do ye really want to know, Mum?” She shook her little head in dismay. “Sometimes, they come and teach us something wonderful, like how to speak a new language, or build a bridge that will last, and then poof!” Winnalea smiled and snapped her fingers. “They disappear. But then other times, they appear right under a Rhonderdack, and squish!” She clapped her hands loud and swiped them together for emphasis. “I don’t know how they return then, but I suppose there is no putting them back together again like they tried for Mr. Humpt. Poor ole dearie was shaped like an egg afterward, he was!”
Winnalea’s face was somber and she stirred the potful of something smelling like chicken soup. It occurred to me then, that there had been no chicken in the freezer, and I scanned the room. Last I saw Kee Kee, was when I stole her cage.
“Winni, what’s in the pot?” I dreaded the answer to come.
“Why it’s the keekee bird you bartered for! And come here and I’ll tell ye, you got a bad deal on him, I might say! Hardly enough to fill a pot, but he will make a nice sweet broth to feed our Little Miss. Lots o’ nutrients from the bones.”
She winked to reassure me all was not lost. Gulping, I tried not to think about the poor parakeet we bought last month because Sammy wanted a puppy. I wasn’t ready for the commitment of a dog in our small, second-floor apartment. Thank the stars, we hadn’t gotten the small Chihuahua from the French Market. The thought of a dog in the pot made me nauseous.
I thanked Winni for all her hard work and help in our time of need. I didn’t want her to feel like we didn’t appreciate her cleaning. Although I explained about pets in this world, and how I understood her mistake, she fretted that poor Sam would never forgive her for cooking Kee Kee. Patting her shoulders, I directed her to the living room where the television showed the morning news. I suggested working out a menu and shopping at the market together later. This seemed to cheer her up. She apparently loved to go to the market in Rhineguard. I explained we could find another parakeet there, and maybe Sammy wouldn’t notice.
The news displayed five simple caskets in front of St. Louis Cathedral, in Jackson Square. Apparently six random deaths appeared, within a few hours of each other yesterday. Five around the same time that the dog ate the monkeys, and the other appeared just a few hours later, about the time I left to see the chief. Generally, a time connection existed between the return of the ORBs, and the humans that Blinked. This worried me, since I only knew of one other ORB left, and one other human missing.
Chapter 11
The Witch
I heard from others in the village of peculiar foreigners appearing and disappearing. A rare occurrence in the past, the phenomena snowballed last night as many reported such visitations and disappearances of loved ones.
After all the care and consideration and that ungrateful man--I forced myself to remain calm. “We will look into the disappearance immediately. I know the oxen were your prized pair,” I told the Cyclops queen, whose name I am embarrassed to say, I have not yet mastered.
She beat her chest and stormed off.
“Jim,” I said to myself, “be glad I am a princess. Were I not, I might bring all sorts of wrath upon ye.”
I offered the Cyclops, trois fatted calves, deux guinea hens, and un cochon. The doctor would suffer and atone for his theft. Was there no end to this silent war between our planets? We must make a stand. Maybe Jim’s body, if returned in a dead-and-perhaps-mutilated state, would demonstrate our resolve and strength. Attempts at communicating with these un-Ortharian beings, was infuriating. The language barrier was too great, even though the great Shakespearean predecessor borne a new language for
Ortharians long ago. He promised to take up counsel with his Earth-bound leaders, and inform them of the gateway between worlds. His promise of creating a pact, leading to growth for all realms and a resolution to our problem disappeared with him--much like Jim. Blinked visitors must not be trusted.
Long years had passed and nothing had changed between our worlds. The Blinks continued, and Ortharians mourned the continual disappearances and death. It was my duty, as Rhineguard’s ambassador and one of the chief counselors of Ortharos to make peace with this other realm or win the war. I would find this doorway when Jim Blinked back. To ensure I would witness his return, I must terminate his stay. A reckoning was essential. With each passing year, the Blink occurrences were exponential--especially the last five. Sentient Ortharian beings had Blinked out each time. Most disturbing of all was that they rarely returned alive. Perhaps if only corpses returned, the Non-Ortharians would think twice about annihilating our people.
We, in Rheinguard, had treated Blink visitors well, but I would admit that other Ortharians, such as the Cyclops, were less gracious. Many recent meetings of the chief counselors had addressed this issue. There was dissent among us. Now that I had sent the Cyclops queen on her way, I would hunt out Dr. Nichols and most assuredly, it would not be pleasant.
Chapter 12
The Brownie
We rode on the largest of steeds, which Mums called a Plymouth Fury. The Fury hungered, so we stopped at a special stable, and the stable boy fed the Fury the stinky juice through its small mouth. The steed galloped, and my hair whipped in the wind. Mums wore a hat, to tame her tresses, and odd spectacles. Sight helpers, we called them, though her lenses were dark. Perplexing.
The Fury spoke and sung, but did nae answer questions. Mums said it was the radio. Perhaps Fury’s ears ailed. The odd creature had a hooplike device instead of a bridle with which Mums directed it, and she poked down with one foot to the right when she wanted to go and to the left when she needed to stop.
“Is the market far, Mums?” I shouted over the grumblings of the Fury.
“The French Market is not, but I need a few essentials for the house that aren’t available there. Toilet paper is one of them. Don’t let me forget, Winni!” Mums said, pointing her finger in the air, as if there was a yellow ribbon tied around it. Someone crooned “Wooo hooo witchy woman,” going on and on until, having picked up the words, I sang too. The steed had a lively voice, and I liked the way I swayed as we took the corners of the grand road. Mums was giggling and joined us.
This Earth was an amazing place full of wonderful things to explore. We pulled up to a massive keep with big lettering I couldn’t read. I tried to sound it out, until Mums helped me.
“Schwegmann’s!” She smiled and laughed with me over the interesting name. She called it a grocery store, and said if I liked the kitchen sink, they had everything but. That, I didn’t understand, but I was interested to see this sh-weg-man.
***
As we left the Fury and entered the keep, I almost lost my senses. Glassy-filmed, covered food of every kind imaginable, and some that you couldn’t even imagine, all for the taking! Mums grabbed a metal monster to carry our purchases. She plopped this and that in, filling the belly with skinned, cut, and deboned meats. The bird she bought had nae a feather on it, and the fruit lie round in piles! Glorious that, but with all the work preparing food done, what would she be needing me for? I worried. Mums pondered what else she needed and I supplied the toilet paper words she was looking for. She gave me a sturdy squeeze, and we waited in a big queue at the front of the keep.
The lady behind the small table poked and prodded at a prickly little box that beeped and buzzed its annoyance. Finally, Mums grabbed something from her pouch and bartered with her signature as she ripped the parchment from the stack. She handed it to the lady who looked bored, but I couldn’t imagine why? In all of my own excitement, I had come near wetting my knickers.
On the way home, Mums opened a bag of something she called Ruffles. They were lovely, crunchy things with lots of Kalvanian salt. I had a bit of the salt in the castle, but used it sparingly, since its price was so costly. Not wanting to appear greedy, I tried not to overindulge. Mums then popped the cork of something fizzy and told me it was a knee-hi, but I saw NEHI printed on the bottle. I followed her lead and took a big drink as we took off in the Fury. It tickled my nose, and I almost spit it out, laughing. What a wonderful world this was, and it was only my second day here. I first drank with giddiness and then with guilt because I enjoyed myself so much. The princess must be worried.
We visited the French Market next, and I was more at home with all the goods displayed by the vendors. Here, I would have felt more on my feet if I had known what we were bartering, but Mums kept digging in her bag for more parchment. In a whirl of time we had a plumper blue and yellow keekee with long blue tail feathers. The other had been scrawny and white. Convincing Sammy would be a challenge. Maybe the poor dear wasn’t so bright? I would try to ask before I made any more stews, and to think the cat in the alley would have all that keekee to itself.
Chapter 13
Jim
I woke to the sound of yelling followed by a crescendo of hoof beats in the distance. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.
“Great! I wonder if Frizzy turns purple in a rage,” I muttered.
Assuming the princess discovered my absence and was chasing me, I risked a peep over the edge of my new and improved straw bed. When I saw what was coming, I flattened on the floor and heaped straw over myself. I peeked through the cracks between the planks that made up the sides of the wagon. The furious one-eyed, seven-foot-tall woman reined in her mount--a very hairy, large boar with sharp, gold-tipped tusks. Leaping from her saddle, she rushed to the oxen, cooed, petted, and made much fuss over the harnessed team. One would have thought she was a mother doting on her only child coming home from its first day of school.
Three other riders, one female and two males, rode with her. A minute later, a fourth male joined. A cage with birds hung from each side of the last boar and the rider led three calves. The Cyclops spoke, but I couldn’t understand a single word. From the gesturing, the oxen were the topic du jour.
“Oh crap on toast,” I whispered as one of the Cyclops slid off his mount and led the oxen toward the wagon and me. I saw movement and heard jangling noises as the Cyclops yoked the oxen once more. With a jerk that sent me to the bottom of the wagon, I and my ride set forth.
Roll, roll, roll in the hay. I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing as the scene from Young Frankenstein appeared in my head, though instead of the sexy Teri Garr, my mind replaced her with a large, one-eyed female.
***
I didn’t know how long the journey took, but I was covered with bruises by the ride’s end. I swore the driver managed to hit every rock and rut along the way. Eventually, I heard voices, more mounts and wagons rolling past. General clatter indicated we reached a small settlement.
A large door opened with a resounding screech and we moved to a darker, quieter place. The door creaked again and the chit chat biz stopped.
I waited as long as I could stand it, then sat up and dusted off the hay. “Atchoo, atchoo, atchoo! I gotta get out of here or find a witch doctor who gives allergy shots,” I said.
“Who’re ye?”
I looked left and right, but didn’t find the source until I looked down. A child with one eye stood, pointing a pitchfork at me.
“Hey, little Lone-Eye.” I started to stand, but got a poke in my hand for my effort.
“Name!” Lil Lone-Eye shook the pitchfork with menacing theatrics.
I raised my hands in universal I surrender, then slowly pointed at myself. “Jim.”
“Jim, ma prisoner.” Lil Lone-Eye poked at me, motioned to an open stall door, and then raised his one fuzzy eyebrow.
“Great, out of the frying pan and into the freaky fire,” I said as I levered myself out of the wagon. The child-clops marched me into the s
tall. I sat in the corner, on a pile of hay, resigned for the moment. Lil One-eye remained standing in front of me.
“Why you in papa’s w’gen?” He spoke with difficulty and slurred his words, but I could understand him.
“Well, damn. At least you speaka de Englees.”
“No make fun me!”
I got a good poke in the thigh for mouthing off. “Ouch!” I yelled, exaggerating the pain. I must admit, I got a kick at how the little fella jumped at the noise.
“Why you in papa’s w’gen?” he yelled and poked me harder in the other thigh.
I grimaced in pain. “Hey, stop that!”
Lil Lone-Eye reversed his grip on the pitchfork and raised it overhead. I threw my arms over my head and damn right, I cowered. See how brave you are when a four and a half feet tall, one-eyed kid in a rage tries shish-kabobing you. Nothing happened, so I cautiously lifted my arms and peered. Lil Lone-Eye was grinning to beat the band, but switched to a glare when he caught my eye.
I sat up. “Look, I was trying to get away from those crazy princesses. I’m sorry about the wagon.” I motioned to where the wagon sat safely, and started to inch toward the stall door. “Now I’ll just get along and get outa your way.”
