Hamish X and the Hollow Mountain

by Sean Cullen

  “Listen and listen good,” Mimi said, even and slow. “You do what you gotta do to bring ’im back. We’ll be watchin’. If it looks like anythin’s goin’ wrong, I’m comin’ down there and I’m pullin’ the plug.” She poked Liam’s chest with a long bony finger. “Anythin’ happens to my friend Hamish X and yore gonna hear from me direct. Understand?”

  The King’s face was serious, his blue eyes intense. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from Miss Mimi Catastrophe Jones.” He winked. He nodded. Pressing a button next to the window, he said, “Prepare the link. I’m coming down.”

  Chapter 12

  The Memory Party

  He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know who he was. He had to call himself something. He decided to call himself The Boy.

  The Boy looked around and discovered he was standing on a gravel walkway. On either side of the walkway, perfectly clipped grass stretched out as far as the eye could see. He looked up into the sky and saw a million stars in the black sky. The moon hung yellow and full above.

  The walkway was made up of hundreds and thousands of tiny white stones packed together. The Boy scuffed the stones with his feet, sending a bunch of them skittering onto the manicured grass. Immediately the stones leapt off the grass and back onto the walkway, as if the grass were repelling them.

  The Boy laughed. “That is certainly odd.” His voice sounded loud and strange in his ears. He noticed another strange thing: he was wearing huge black boots. They glistened in the starlight. “Weird.”

  “Excuse me, sir.” The voice made him jerk his head up in surprise from contemplation of his odd footwear. Directly in front of him there now stood a large stone house. Tall stained-glass windows shone from within. The light spilled over the grass in long coloured pools. He found himself at the bottom of a set of stone steps that led up to an arch filled with an ornately carved wooden door. The door was open.

  Standing in the doorway was a boy, a little older than himself. He was tall and well proportioned, dressed in a plain green suit with a silver cross embroidered over the right breast. The boy had red hair tangled in an unruly mop on his head and blue eyes that crinkled around the corners. “You’re here for the Memory Party, aren’t you?”

  As soon as the stranger said these words, The Boy heard music and laughter and realized there was a party going on.

  “What’s a Memory Party?”

  “It’s like a party, only better. You like parties, don’t you?”

  “I guess so,” The Boy said.

  “Come in then, come right in.” The Red-Haired Boy opened the door wider and stepped aside to allow The Boy to enter. The Boy climbed the steps and went in. “Everyone is waiting.”

  He found himself in a foyer.44 The Red-Haired Boy closed the door and stood beside him.

  “Who are you?” the Boy asked.

  “We’ve never met.” The Red-Haired Boy smiled. He held out a hand, pale and thin. “I am Liam.”

  The Boy shook the hand. It was soft and warm. “I’m glad to meet you. And I’m glad to know your name so I don’t have to keep thinking of you as the Red-Haired Boy. Liam is shorter and easier.” 45 The Boy paused. “You wouldn’t know what my name is, would you? I can’t seem to recall.”

  Liam laughed. “You are Hamish X.”

  “I am?” the Boy said. He thought for a moment. “Yes, I am. I remember that now. What a relief.” Hamish X looked around at the foyer. “Where are we, Liam, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Liam laughed again. Hamish X decided he liked the sound of Liam’s laugh. “I could give you a complicated answer that would take a long time, but I think I’ll just say we’re inside your head.”

  “How strange,” Hamish X said. “I must have a huge head if I can fit both you and me inside it.”

  “When I say inside your head,” Liam smiled, “I mean to say that we are in your mind. This whole place is constructed from your memories. I have inserted myself into your mind to be a guide.”

  Hamish X knitted his brow. “So this isn’t real?”

  “Oh it’s real, in the way that dreams and memories are real, but it exists only within your consciousness.” Liam held up his hands and flexed his fingers. He laughed with sudden delight. “I couldn’t do this anywhere else.” He did a little jig, kicking his feet. He laughed again and Hamish X laughed at his infectious good humour. “Yes, I could grow to like this.” Liam stopped dancing and looked at Hamish X. “I’m being foolish. We haven’t much time. They’re waiting.”

  “Who?”

  “Your memories.”

  “Oh.”

  Liam set off down a corridor. Hamish X followed.

  The din of the party grew louder as they moved down the dark corridor. Voices were raised in laughter and music swelled. They turned a corner and came to a large open room. The party was in full swing.

  A huge banner hung on one wall. It read WELCOME HAMISH X in big red letters. Under the banner, a small band made up of children dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns played a variety of instruments: violins, horns, saxophones, and guitars. The room was decorated in bright streamers of red and gold. The floor was made of hardwood, polished to a gleaming honey yellow. Standing around on the beautiful floor was the strangest collection of people one could imagine. They were of every size and shape, every colour and culture, male and female, young and old. They were all chatting animatedly and holding cups of sparkling red punch.

  “Who are they?” Hamish X asked Liam.

  “Your memories. Do you recognize any of them?”

  “I can’t say I do.”

  Suddenly, a tall bony man turned and looked directly at Hamish X. He smiled, exposing yellow teeth. “Surely you remember me?” He held out a tiny tray with a single cube of bluish-white cheese on it. Hamish X reached out, took the proffered cheese, and popped it in his mouth. Its pungent smell instantly permeated his mouth and stung his nostrils. His eyes widened as memories of Viggo and the Windcity Orphanage and Cheese Factory flooded his mind.

  “Viggo,” he whispered. “Viggo Schmatz.”

  Viggo winked and turned away. Hamish X stepped into the throng, immersing himself in the noise and heat of the crowd.

  He bumped into a man wearing a pair of pink tights and a golden mask. The masked man was in the middle of a conversation with a dignified gentleman with blond hair and a gold crown perched on his head. They smiled at Hamish X.

  “Bueno! The little Hombre himself.” The man in tights grabbed Hamish X by the hand and squeezed it in a bone-crushing grip. In the midst of the pain, the man’s identity leapt into Hamish X’s brain.

  “Spicy Tuna!” Hamish X cried. “The Mexican wrestler!”

  “The same!”

  Hamish X gritted his teeth and squeezed Spicy Tuna’s hand. The eyes in the holes of the mask went wide. The huge man fell to his knees. “Oh, so strong! You defeat me once again!”

  Hamish X released the wrestler’s hand as the blond man touched his shoulder. With the contact, Hamish X remembered. “King Olaf of Sweden. I’m sorry I had to steal your helicopter.”

  “Sink noting ov it, my boy! I have many udders.” The King of Sweden waved a hand in dismissal.

  “’Ere’s the man of the hour!” A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and spun him round. Two men with beards loomed over him. The first had a beard matted with waxy cheese, stinky and tangled. It covered his broad chest and dangled to his belly. The second had a beard more elegantly trimmed. Tied in the strands of his facial hair with red ribbons were cubes of brown-rubber soy curd.

  “Cheesebeard and Soybeard!” Hamish X exclaimed. His initial delight at being able to remember who the brothers were gave way to wariness. He raised his fists to defend himself. He needn’t have worried. The brothers just laughed. Soybeard pointed. “Look, Cheesebeard! He wants to fight! No! No! We’re all done with that.”

  “Aye,” Cheesebeard agreed. “We’re just memories now, lad, and memories hold no grudges.” He winked and the brothers strolled away a
rm in arm, leaving Hamish X bewildered.

  “This is crazy,” he muttered. Suddenly, the boy named Liam was at his elbow. “Not crazy, Hamish X. You’re just getting your memories back. And there are many more to come.”

  Liam guided Hamish X through the crowd, stopping here and there to greet the strangest array of characters. Some were old foes and some were old friends. As he met each one, he found that the memory of their encounter came flooding back. The party became more and more raucous, with pirates and bandits, ninjas and monks, kings and queens shouting and laughing as they drank punch and ate cubes of Caribou Blue.

  Hamish X began to feel claustrophobic as the room seemed more and more crowded, his memories pressing in from all sides. The strange but familiar faces became a blur to him as Liam pulled him this way and that.

  Suddenly, two great brown hands lifted him up into the air.

  “Hamish X!” Liam cried but his voice was lost in the din.

  Hamish X was hoisted into the air and brought face to face with a strange ape face. The face was missing an eye but was joyful despite the deformity, its great yellow teeth twisted into a parody of a human smile.

  “Winkie!” Hamish X laughed aloud. The huge snow monkey grinned even wider and swung Hamish X in a great arc. The crowd stepped back and began to clap in time to the music. Hamish X was at the mercy of the great ape, who flung him like a doll up into the air. He looked around at the swirl of faces and began to fill decidedly ill. Winkie was oblivious to his discomfort. The big primate hooted loudly and pranced about the room.

  Hamish X saw the faces spinning around him, enemies and friends blending into one. He was whirling so fast he couldn’t focus.

  “Winkie! Stop! STOP!”

  Winkie abruptly did as he was told. Hooting softly, he put Hamish X down on the floor, the big boots clicking on the shiny wooden surface. The boy had trouble standing up, he was so dizzy. He staggered a step and went down on one knee, staring at a single wooden tile in front of his face in an effort to get his bearings. The crowd all around was shouting and laughing, a great incoherent roar.

  “Hamish.” The high voice of a woman cut through the din. “My Hamish,” the woman called again. The voice struck deep at Hamish X’s heart. He raised his head and looked for the source of the sound. In the middle of the throng he saw the back of a woman’s head. She was pushing through the crowd, moving away. Hamish X couldn’t see her face, just a thick sweep of brown hair. “Mother!” he called but she didn’t turn. He pulled himself to his feet and staggered into the crowd.

  He tried to move in her direction but it was tough going. People clogged his path, patting him on the back and shaking his hand. “Excellent party!” “Remember me, lad?” With each contact more memories flooded in, adding to his disorientation. Hamish X pushed his way past an extremely fat man wearing a pointed helmet and a wedding dress.46 He caught a glimpse of the brown hair at the edge of the crowd, moving away.

  “Mother, wait!” He felt a growing desperation. Throwing himself against the people in his path, he called upon his boots. He reached with his mind down into their dark well and instantly felt them stir. “I’m coming, Mother! Wait for me!” The power surged up his legs. Using his newfound strength he pushed against the crowd, plowing forward like a bulldozer. His memories protested as he cast them aside.

  At last, he came out into the open. The polished floor was empty in front of him. A few metres away was a simple wooden door. He caught a glimpse of brown hair as the door closed.

  “Wait!” he shouted. “Mother, don’t go!” Tears prickled in his eyes. He dashed across the shining floor, his boots squeaking on the slick surface. His hand reached for the door handle. He was almost there when the door burst open.

  Two men in grey suits stepped into the room. They wore grey fedoras and gloves. Black goggles covered their eyes. Hamish X skidded to a stop, his boots leaving long black marks on the floor. The men stood staring at him, their heads cocked to one side.

  “Hamish X,” one of the men said in a flat voice. The voice was lifeless and mechanical, the kind of voice that a can opener or a toaster might have, should it be able to speak.47 “We’ve come for you.”

  “Indeed,” the other said in an equally lifeless tone.

  They lunged, grabbed him by the arms, wrestled him to the floor. Memories of the metal table and the horrible lights flooded back. Hamish X screamed and screamed. “Candy and Sweet! No! No!” He remembered all the pain he had suffered at the hands of the Grey Agents.

  Suddenly, a voice cried out. “Let him go! He’s just a child!” Hamish X looked to the doorway and saw a skinny bald man standing there. He wore thick glasses perched on his long nose. His face was pale, almost as white as the surgical gown he wore.

  The Grey Agents seemed momentarily surprised. Hamish X took the opportunity to wrench himself free.

  Mr. Sweet pointed a long bony finger at the man. “Professor, do not interfere.”

  “He is ours. We made him,” Mr. Candy added.

  The agents turned to the boy lying on the floor. “He is ours …” They moved towards him together.

  Hamish X cowered away as they approached. He didn’t want them to touch him again. Those horrible hands and faces filled him with dread.

  “No!” the Professor cried, covering his face with his hands.

  Suddenly Liam was there, kneeling by Hamish X’s side. “Not feeling too good are you, Hamish X. It’s a lot to take in all at once.”

  Mr. Candy and Mr. Sweet stopped and stared at the boy. “Get away from him,” they said together. “He’s ours.”

  “Nonsense,” Liam said with a chuckle. He took Hamish X’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “You don’t feel well, Hamish X.” Hamish X nodded. “I can help.” Liam went around behind Hamish X and, wrapping his arms around the boy’s stomach, the red-haired boy heaved as hard as he could.

  Hamish X gagged once, twice, and then out of his mouth a sickly green object popped. It fell to the floor with a wet splurt. It was a slimy little bug, a disgusting cross between a beetle and a cricket. The bug immediately began to skitter across the floor.

  “After him,” Mr. Candy said. The Grey Agents set off after the little creature, following it in a meandering pattern across the room, weaving here and there, wherever the bug’s fancy led them.

  “They won’t be able to find you now,” Liam said.

  “That’s amazing,” breathed Hamish X.

  “A little trick my technical people and I dreamed up.”

  “Technical people? Who are you?”

  “All in good time. You’ve had a lot of excitement. It’s time to leave.” Liam handed Hamish X a cup brimming with rich, red liquid. “Drink this.”

  Hamish X took the cup. Suddenly, he remembered. “Mother!” He looked for the door but there was nothing but wall in front of him, a smooth surface covered in floral wallpaper. It was as if the door had never existed. The Professor was gone, too. Hamish X turned and saw that the room was empty. The crowd had disappeared. Only he and Liam remained.

  “Drink,” Liam said again. Hamish X found he couldn’t resist. He tipped the cup up and drained it in one long gulp. As soon as he did so, he felt a warm heaviness come over him.

  “That’s it, Hamish X. Close your eyes.”

  He did as he was told. He felt a strange falling sensation. He wasn’t afraid. In fact, the feeling was rather pleasant. He plummeted through warm darkness.

  As he fell, he heard a sound. A voice called from far away. It was familiar.

  “Hamish X. Wake up!”

  The voice was getting closer.

  “It’s us! Y’all right!”

  His fall was slowing.

  “Mimi?” he murmured.

  He was stopping now.

  “HAMISH X! Wake up! Wake up now!” She was shaking him.

  “Mimi! Stop shaking me! I’m awake already!”

  Mimi’s eyes went wide. “Hamish X? You know who I am? You remember me?”

  “I
remember you, Mimi. I remember Parveen.” He looked at Mrs. Francis and Mr. Kipling. “I remember you, too …”

  He turned his head, cables and wires making the movement difficult. Lying on a table beside him, he saw the red-haired boy from the party. The boy’s hair was plastered down with sweat and he looked pale but he smiled.

  “Liam?”

  “King Liam of Switzerland. Welcome, Hamish X.” The King’s blue eyes closed. He was exhausted.

  Hamish X suddenly remembered the woman with the brown hair. He had only caught a glimpse but he knew who she was. “Mother.”

  Hamish X gulped against a swelling ache in his throat.

  Parveen stepped close and took his friend’s hand. “Are you all right, Hamish X?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I remember so much …” and he began to cry.

  Mimi wrapped her arms around her friend and held him close to her as he began to sob.

  One of the medical team members, a tall, thin girl, stepped up in front of Parveen. Her skin was a chocolate colour where it showed between her mask and her white cotton surgical cap. Her brown eyes were wide. “Your name … is Parveen.”

  Parveen nodded. “Yes.”

  The girl pulled off her mask and cap. A glossy ponytail fell over her shoulder. Her smile was bright. “Parveen! Don’t you know me?”

  “I … I …”

  “I’m your sister, Noor.” And she crushed the little boy to her, lifting him from his feet with the ferocity of her embrace.

  Mr. Candy and Mr. Sweet

  Standing in the rain, Mr. Sweet and Mr. Candy looked around the ruined meadow, the brims of their sodden grey fedoras dripping.