by Brian Bakos
Twenty or so people were moving out from a pavilion. It looked something like the picnic shelter at the park by the Tire Giant. They stood together now under a large banner near the golden circle.
Why, it was an American flag!
“The welcoming committee,” Quentin said.
He put us into a gentle landing pattern. Soon we were on final approach, engine idling and flaps full down. The wheels kissed the pavement alongside the golden circle. What a difference from our previous landing!
“Home at last,” Quentin said.
“Right,” I said, “wherever home is.”
We taxied toward the crowd. As we got closer, I recognized them as Kintz – waxy pale and thin with flowing white hair. They all retreated hastily back into the pavilion.
“I hope they’re friendly,” I said.
“Of course they are,” Quentin said. “Eddie wouldn’t steer us wrong.”
We came up to the golden spot.
“The Winner’s Circle,” Quentin said. “All hail the conquering heroes, eh?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t go in there,” I said.
“It’ll be okay.”
The moment we entered the circle, a blinding cloud of gold dust flew up in the prop wash.
“Dang!”
Quentin shut off the engine and braked to a stop.
“At least we know why the welcoming committee got out of the way,” I said.
A minute passed before the dust settled down. The windows were covered with a golden film, but we could see out a bit. A lone figure separated from the crowd and walked toward us.
“That must be their fearless leader,” Quentin said. “Let’s go see what he wants.”
“Uh, sure.”
Quentin got out, but I hesitated. This rattly little plane seemed almost like home to me now, or at least a tiny shred of home, and I was unwilling to leave it. But then I got out, too.
Our shoes left prints in the golden circle, and the powder still floating in the air made us cough. Glittery yellow powder covered the airplane.
“I hope that stuff didn’t get sucked into the engine,” Quentin said.
“I’ve got gold-plated sneakers,” I said. “It’s all over my socks, too!”
The Kintz leader approached us real slow and dignified, as if he were performing some solemn ritual. Well, I guess visitors from another universe didn’t pop in every day, so a bit of formality was only to be expected.
He carried a long communicator device like the one we’d used at the Tire Giant. I expected him to speak into it, but he just bowed to Quentin and said in perfect American-style English:
“Welcome to Core City, Prince Quentin of Allendale.”
Then he bowed to me. “Welcome, Lady Amanda, also of Allendale.”
Our jaws dropped.
13: Welcoming Committee
There was something very un-Kintzlike about him, besides the American talk. He had the regulation white hair and the usual little pierced ear and nose rings, but his skin was not naturally pale. He looked made up, and his eyes were different. His face seemed familiar somehow ...
“Eddie?” I blurted out.
No, it couldn’t be. Eddie was just a small boy, this person was taller than Quentin.
He bowed again. “At your service, Lady Amanda.”
“Wow!” Quentin said. “What happened Eddie?”
Eddie glanced over his shoulder at the crowd, then back at us.
“We must speak quietly,” he said, “there could be spies about.”
Quentin lowered his voice. “This is amazing.”
Eddie nodded. “I thought you’d be older.”
“We are,” I said, “by three weeks since we last saw you.”
“It’s been five years over here,” Eddie said.
My ability to be surprised by anything must have been worn out by now, so I just took this incredible fact in stride.
“At that rate you won’t have to bleach your hair much longer,” Quentin said. “It’ll turn white on its own before you know it.”
Eddie stroked his hair. “Yeah, it’s a hassle.”
Then he smiled, and a terrific warmth radiated off of him. It washed over me, thawing the chill that had crept into me from our nightmare journey.
“Things can work the opposite way, too, I think,” Eddie said. “You could come back in five years and discover that it’s only next week here.”
I couldn’t get over this new Eddie. The one I knew before was a tough-talking little delinquent with a chip on his shoulder and a sharpened railroad spike in his pocket. Now he was all smoothed out and sophisticated, the anger and suspicion was gone.
He seemed more than just five years older – like he was at least eighteen. His voice was deeper, too. A little grin flickered over his face, and I saw the old, mischievous Eddie behind it.
“You’re thinking that I am much changed, Lady Amanda?” he said.
“That’s putting it mildly,” I said. “This place must be really good for you.”
“That’s right ... ”
A sad expression took over his face. He looked toward the plane, the same way he’d turned his attention to our bikes the last time I’d touched a raw nerve.
“I thought you’d bring a car,” he said.
“I’m too young to drive,” Quentin said. “Actually, I’m too young to fly solo, either. I kind of bent the rules a little – well, a lot.”
“It’s better this way,” Eddie said. “The Kintz prefer dramatic entrances.”
“The flag is a nice touch,” Quentin said. “Very patriotic.”
“Are there enough stars?” Eddie said. “I’d heard that Alaska was going to become a state, Hawaii, too.”
“Not yet,” I said, “there’re still just forty eight of us.”
“That reminds me of a joke,” Quentin said. “This guy from Alaska says, ‘Alaska will be the biggest state.’ And this Texan says, ‘Wait til the ice melts.’”
Eddie and I just kind of stared.
“Well, I though it was funny ... sort of,” Quentin said.
Murmuring in the strange Kintz language drifted from the crowd. They emerged from the pavilion again and gathered by the flag pole.
“We’d best go to meet the elders,” Eddie said. “The golden circle is no longer fit for the welcoming ceremony. You weren’t supposed to land in it.”
“Yeah, I figured that out,” Quentin said.
We started walking, Eddie leading the way with his ceremonial steps. The crowd became tense and excited as we got closer, or about as excited as Kintz are likely to get.
“This is starting to feel a little strange,” Quentin muttered.
They were all genuine Kintz with that great, eerie, stillness, as if moving was difficult for them. They all wore form-fitting jumpsuit type outfits in soft colors. Some of them also sported flowing blue capes; they must have been the top honchos. I guessed that the younger looking ones standing off to the side were attendants for the elders.
“I can understand the Kintz language okay,” Eddie said, “but I can only speak a little. Humans just aren’t built for it.”
He raised the communicator device and spoke English into it. The sing-songy, musical / radio static Kintz language came out the other end. Then a mid-air picture show flowed out of the communicator and hung in the air like a Cinemascope movie:
Quentin and I are marching toward the airplane, like aviation heroes in some war film. Dramatic music plays in the background. We get in and start the engine. We take off down a runway large enough for a B-52 bomber.
We’re flying along the railroad track. The music is now dreamy and romantic. We sing along with it. My voice is strong and clear, like an opera soprano’s. The sky is bright. We make a perfect landing in a field.
Eddie is waiting for us on the railroad tracks. We take off again in a blaze of glory.
The Kintz all nodded their heads. They seemed to like the show.
“That’s not exactl
y how it happened,” I said.
“I had to polish the story a little,” Eddie said. “Otherwise, you won’t make the right impression.”
“That’s a lot of polish,” Quentin said.
The caped ones approached. The dark eyes in their stiff, waxy faces seemed to bore right into Quentin. He moved one foot back but held his ground. I stood alongside, clutching his arm.
The most dignified looking Kintz, the big leader I supposed, reached a finger slowly and touched Quentin’s SMILE, It Kills Time Between Disasters button. The others held back, talking quietly among themselves.
The leader said something to Eddie.
“Our Council President wishes to know where your crown is,” Eddie translated.
“Crown?” Quentin said.
“I think he means your Viking helmet,” I said.
“Oh that,” Quentin said. “It kind of got fried, with my head still in it.”
Eddie and the Council President exchanged comments.
“He asks about your scepter,” Eddie translated.
“Scepter?” Quentin pulled the gold-painted railroad spike out of his jacket pocket. “Do you mean this?”
Something like a gasp shot through all the Kintz. The Council President stepped back, and everybody bowed.
“What’s going on, Eddie?” Quentin whispered. “I feel like a bug under a magnifying glass.”
But Eddie was looking someplace else. “Up there!”
He pointed skyward toward a blinking disk. It jerked and swooped like a psychotic bat, then it headed straight for us.
“Skybot,” Eddie said. “Let’s go!”
14: Quick Getaway
The pavement in front of us sank down into a broad ramp. The gold circle behind us dropped like an elevator, taking the plane with it.
“Hey, the airplane!” Quentin said.
“It’ll be okay,” Eddie said. “Come on!”
The Kintz were already going down the ramp, their capes fluttering. We moved faster, though, and got to the bottom ahead of everybody.
“Follow me!” Eddie cried.
We jogged along a dim tunnel while behind us, the ramp lifted up again. Just before it closed, an explosion ripped the air outside, and a hot, acrid smoke rushed into the tunnel. Tears burst from my eyes.
“... knockout gas bomb ...” Eddie said between coughs. His face glowed red under his makeup.
“A little of that goes a long way,” Quentin gasped.
A whooshing sound began, and the air cleared as if by a giant vacuum cleaner. I could actually breathe now. Eddie’s face bleached out again.
“Someone must have signaled the skybot,” he said. “I knew we had a spy somewhere.”
He moved back down the tunnel toward the Kintz and spoke with the Council President.
“I don’t suppose they’ll have another ‘welcoming ceremony’ any time soon,” Quentin said.
“Yeah,” I said, “too many uninvited guests.”
Eddie and the Council President finished their conference. Then the Kintz all hopped on little scooters without wheels. They lifted off the floor a few inches and whooshed away, offering little bows as they passed us.
We bowed also, and I had to keep myself from laughing. The Kintz reminded me of surfers in those dumb teenager movies.
Eddie walked back to us.
“Cool!” Quentin said. “Can we ride those scooter things?”
“Maybe later,” Eddie replied, “but there isn’t time to learn now.”
He pointed down the tunnel.
“We’ll take these instead,” he said.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Leaning against the wall were our old bikes! Melissa’s English racer, my green & white Hornet, and Tommy’s red & cream boy’s Hornet. All of them sharp and gleaming.
“I fixed them up,” Eddie said. “Yours was a total loss, though, Quentin. We threw it out of the ship to save weight.”
Quentin jumped on Melissa’s English racer. “This one will be okay,” he said.
Things sure were different in other universes. Quentin wouldn’t be caught dead riding a girl’s bike back home. I got on my Hornet and immediately felt connected with my old life. For the first time in ages, things seemed halfway normal. Eddie got on Tommy’s Hornet.
The boys took off fast, leaving me behind.
“Hey, slow down!” I called.
“Sorry, Lady Amanda,” Eddie said.
The boys slowed, and we bunched together – me slightly behind because there wasn’t enough room to ride three across. The set up made me feel distinctly second class.
The Kintz stayed well ahead, so we could talk among ourselves.
“Explain a few things, Eddie,” I said, “like why we’re here.”
“Yeah,” Quentin said, “the longer I’m in this place, the less I like it – especially that knock-out gas part.
“Fair enough,” Eddie said. “I’m sorry I had to call you, Quentin, but I couldn’t think of anything else. We’re desperate ...”
We must have rode a few miles through the tunnel as Eddie explained our astonishing situation:
When he’d first come here with the rescued kidnap victims, Eddie was welcomed as a hero. He was made an honorary Kintz and named Lord Eddie.
“Wow, that’s quite a promotion,” Quentin said. “One day you’re a runaway kid, the next you’re royalty.”
“Not just me,” Eddie said. “All of you have fancy titles, Prince Quentin, because all of you helped beat the kidnap plot.”
“I like that,” Quentin said.
He squared his shoulders. He seemed bigger somehow and rode Melissa’s bike as if it was a royal stallion.
“Does that explain all the razzle dazzle?” I said. “The fake ‘crown,’ the ‘scepter?’”
“Uh, that’s right, Lady Amanda,” Eddie said.
“Plain old Amanda will do fine,” I said.
“As you wish,” Eddie said.
“So, it’s all just a big put on then, right?” Quentin said.
Eddie nodded, and Quentin started shrinking back to his normal size.
“The Kintz are incredibly advanced,” Eddie said, “but in some ways they’re like little children. They love razzle dazzle. If I told them you were just a couple of kids, they would’ve ignored you.”
“That’s pretty dumb,” I said.
“Are things much different back home?” Eddie said. “All those make-believe TV shows and movies that people buy into.”
“Yeah, like John Wayne,” Quentin said. “I always thought he was a big war hero until I learned he never served in any real army.”
I felt my face reddening. “Well, my Dad is a true war hero – a jet ace. He’s no Hollywood phony!”
Eddie’s white-washed face looked surprised.
“Sorry,” I said, “this touched a raw nerve.”
Losing Dad was my very worst nightmare, and it had almost come true, thanks to that war in Korea. It made me sick how people swaggered around talking tough, unconcerned about the terrible cost of all the violence in the world.
Things were quiet for a while, then Eddie started talking again:
An on-again / off-again civil war had been going on for years, he said. People he called the “Purple Nazis” were battling the legitimate government. Their stronghold was across the river in the gloomy area I’d seen from the plane.
The young Kintz we’d rescued at the Tire Giant were the children of government leaders – including the Council President’s son and daughter. The Purples had kidnapped them for blackmail. We wrecked those plans, so now we had powerful enemies.
“That’s great,” I said, “and you brought us right into the middle of it?”
Eddie slowed down so fast that I nearly crashed into him. We all stopped.
“I only wanted Quentin to come,” he said. “There’s a deadly serious competition scheduled, and we must win it.”
“So, I’m not good enough,” I said, “this is just for the old boys club, eh?�
��
I was talking nonsense and knew it. I couldn’t be angry at Eddie because he’d called me here, and then be equally angry because he hadn’t. It was my fear speaking.
“I asked her to come,” Quentin said. “She’s the brains of our outfit, you know that yourself, Eddie.”
“Okay.” Eddied sighed. “She might not be much safer back home anyway ...”
He looked down, and again I glimpsed the old Eddie – a scared and insecure little boy trying to put on a brave front. Quentin and I exchanged glances. Neither of us wanted to hear any more scary talk just yet.
“So, how did you get a hold of me, Eddie?” Quentin asked.
Eddie seemed relieved to change the subject. “Did you see that big golden tower from the airplane?”
“Yeah,” Quentin said.
“The transmission equipment is up there,” Eddie said. “I’ve been trying to get through for weeks.”
“Cool,” Quentin said. “I’d like to go up in that tower sometime.”
“Fortunately, I had this for a reference,” Eddie said.
He pulled Quentin’s red, plastic camera out of his handlebar bag.
“Your address and phone number are taped on the bottom, so I could get a fix.”
“Oh, man!” Quentin took the camera. “It’s almost worth the trip just to get this back.”
The camera had Imperial Flash written on the front, and a picture of a planet with a lightning bolt shooting behind it.
“That looks suitably royal,” I said. “What about the picture Melissa got?”
“Tricia took care of that,” Eddie said. “I sent her a gift so that she’d deliver it.”
I recalled the flashing, spinning toy that Tricia and her sister were playing with on the lawn. I wished I was back there with them, brats or not.
“Tricia’s a great kid,” Quentin said.
I felt like disagreeing, instead I just said: “We returned Joey Blanton’s baseball cap.”
“Yeah,” Quentin said, “we mailed it to the Children’s Home, we said it was from a ‘friend.’”
Eddie chuckled. “Good old Joey, I almost miss him.”
This was the end of our three-way conversation. The boys moved on ahead so they could talk without me. I didn’t bother to protest.
15: A Startling Reunion
Finally, they turned off at a side tunnel and waited for me. By the time I caught up, my legs were about done for. I got off my bike and parked it with the others.
