Chasm

by Michael Joel Green

  “No one knew how long Meruzilak remained in the township or how long the spell of invisibility lasted. Some said he retreated into the woods to live in hiding, while most believed him to be dead. Little is known of him during that time.”

  Alistair took a breath and started to say something, but stopped. He put his fingers to where his beard had been, but the beard was no longer there. He lifted his mug, took a long drink, but just as Daniel thought he would resume the story, he said nothing.

  “Oh, man, what are you doing? You can’t go all quiet now. I want to know what happens next. Go ahead, start up again.”

  “I’ve said enough for the time being. It’s time for you to rest.” Alistair stood from his chair. “Come, I’ll show you to your room.”

  “Oh, how lame is that? You start telling this amazing story then go mime on me and tell me it’s my bedtime. This is like being back home. You’re no different from my mom, Alistair.”

  “Wisdom does not mean simply knowing things. It means knowing when to share them. I will tell you everything there is to know, but for now you need to trust me.”

  Daniel opened his mouth to complain but stopped himself. Though he’d known Alistair a short time, he knew him well enough to know that Alistair said exactly what he meant to say and exactly when he meant to say it. “All right. But you promise you’ll tell me the rest tomorrow?”

  “You have my word.”

  “Hey, can I sleep down here tonight? I kind of like it by the fire.”

  “I suppose. Now get some rest. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

  Daniel fortressed himself between the cushions and tried to go to sleep. It was pointless, though. His body may have been tired but his mind was anything but. There were too many questions he wanted to ask. Treabore, Leah, Meruzilak. Not to mention the talk of wizards and Magicals and shape-shifting. What did Alistair mean when he said Daniel was a wizard? Was he talking about being able to do card tricks at parties or something like that? “Daniel the Wizard,” he whispered, imagining the cool tricks he’d impress his friends with.

  The fire continued its burn and Daniel’s mind finally slowed down. Somewhere between the remembrance of Alistair’s story and hint of a possible journey, he drifted to sleep, a cushion squeezed tightly between his arms.

  Chapter 20

  Resistance

  There had been no magic carpet. No hidden stairway in the wall. Just a bunch of rocks, and Joshua, dejected and exhausted, finally closed his eyes and fell asleep. He dreamed of a Halloween carnival two years earlier at his school. The gymnasium was decorated as a haunted museum, with the teachers dressed up as witches and vampires and mummies. His principal, dressed as a werewolf, tried to scare him and his friends, Asher and Will.

  “I know that’s you, Mrs. Morris! You can’t scare us.”

  One of the booths they visited was labeled “BEWARE!” It was partitioned with a black curtain with holes cut into it so the children could put their arms inside. The boys reached through the curtain, where separate hands grabbed them from the other side. Joshua’s hands were shoved into a bowl of worm-like, squishy stuff, and one of the witches yelled at him, “That’s human brains, little boy!” and laughed in a high-pitched cackle. “Ahhh haaa haaaa haaahhh … how do you like brains, little boy?”

  For a split second, Joshua was frightened; he felt goose bumps on his arm. But then he remembered, this was the gymnasium at his school, and the witch with the green face who asked if he liked brains had been his first-grade science teacher and next-door neighbor. “Yeah right, Ms. Connie.” He pulled his hands through the curtain. “I’m so sure it’s brains.” Joshua picked up a spoonful of the glob, slowly chewed it and swallowed. “That’s not brains! It’s macaroni and pumpkin guts.”

  When he woke in the cave, Joshua hoped for a similar experience. He imagined it all being a big hoax, with Will and Asher standing on the other side of the fake rock, dressed in black capes and laughing. “They won’t be laughing for long, after I punch them in the face.” He turned on his wrist-light.

  He wanted to scream. He was still here, still stuck in this awful, creepy place. He was confused, disoriented, and sore all over, especially his elbow. “I hate this place,” Joshua shouted. His throat burned, causing him to cringe in pain.

  After his search for a hidden passageway proved useless, Joshua complained, “It can’t get any worse than this!” Well, things can always get worse. For the first time, Joshua had to pee.

  Joshua was not a prudish boy, by any stretch of the imagination. He’d peed outside a million times. In fact, as a younger boy, he preferred peeing outside and would often sidestep the hallway bathroom to go behind a tree in the yard. “Why does he do that?” his mother once asked Joel. “There’s a perfectly good toilet.”

  “Why does he pee in the yard?” his father answered. “It’s simple. Because he can.”

  But there was something about peeing in this place—he wouldn’t be able to do it even if he wanted to. He could only go where he was comfortable going, and this awful room was by far the most uncomfortable place he’d ever encountered. He squeezed tightly to hold it in.

  There was a deeper reason, however, why Joshua wouldn’t pee in this place. By peeing in the cave, Joshua would be accepting the possibility that he’d be trapped here a long, long time—and that he was a prisoner. Once he peed the first time, he’d go again, then again and again. Whereas, the longer he held it, the longer he retained hope that help was on the way. He’d be rescued soon and would find the first tree he could. Joshua grimaced and squeezed his legs. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about waterfalls or puddles of rain.

  A few minutes passed. He wasn’t ready to concede yet but the need was growing worse. Don’t think about the garden hose or water slide. He shined the light around the room, just to see where he might pee if he wanted to. If I did take a leak in this place—which I’m not going to—where would I go?

  “I wouldn’t go there, I guarantee you,” he said, pointing to the spot where he’d fallen. It was the best climbing area and he didn’t want to leave a puddle. If he had to go, it would be in the farthest spot from where he was sleeping or climbing. Like in that corner over there. Then he noticed something strange. Huh? Was that there before?

  In the corner of the cave, the spot designated for a potential urinal, there was a small burlap sack, tied with a cord. It hadn’t been there when he fell asleep, he was sure of it. He scrambled over to check it out.

  The sudden appearance of a strange sack was disturbing, and Joshua hesitated before picking it up. As he lifted the sack, Joshua squealed, half-expecting to feel something moving inside. Nothing moved, and he chided himself for being a wuss and untied the cord.

  It was food. Food for a rabbit, perhaps, but food, nonetheless. There was a small loaf of bread and a cluster of berries. They were reddish in color, but larger than any he saw around Grisby. The bread was thick with a hard crust, the kind sopped in soup. Joshua didn’t know what to do. On one hand, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. On the other hand …

  What if it’s poisoned?

  Poisoned berries? It was too fairy-tale sounding. He needed to eat, that was for sure, if he held any chance of climbing the wall and escaping. But what if someone put poison inside the food? Then again, if someone wanted him dead, wouldn’t the person have already taken care of it? Joshua stared at the food longer, conflicted as to what to do.

  The worst part was that Goon-Face must have brought the food. Joshua envisioned his captor rappelling down the side of the cave, creeping over him while he was asleep, perhaps tracing his slimy, snake-like finger across Joshua’s cheek for laughs.

  “Yuck!” It made him cringe. “I hate this place and I hate him!”

  His mind got the best of him as he imagined myriad scenarios, the worst of which involved an entire mob of seven-foot monsters sneaking in through a magic tunnel, hovering over him and dropping spiders on his face while chanting spells. Jo
shua slapped at his chest, suddenly feeling spiders he knew weren’t really there.

  He feared what they would do the next time so, in that moment, Joshua made up his mind—he would stay awake. He wasn’t about to let them drop any more spiders on him, nor snakes or cockroaches or anything else slimy and creepy. If Goon-Face and his buddies were waiting for him to fall asleep, they’d be waiting a long, long time because he was ready to stay up all night if he had to. All night, or was it daytime?

  Joshua realized he’d lost all track of time. His watch had no AM/PM button. Well, one thing’s for sure, I have a lot of time to figure it out because I’m not going to bed anytime soon! He sat cross-legged on the floor, the sack of food a few feet in front of him. He was hungry and would need to pee very, very soon.

  Chapter 21

  Holding On

  Does Mom even know I’ve been kidnapped? This was the prevalent question on his mind. Had she called the cops yet? Had she alerted the media, phoned the newspapers, gone on television and demanded the return of her son? Surely the helicopters were out in full force looking for him.

  Joshua thought about a movie he’d seen about a daughter who was taken from her family and held for ransom. The kidnappers took her to an abandoned airfield and demanded a million dollars in ransom. Her parents called in the military, and before the bad guys knew what hit them, the Special Forces were flying in on choppers and storming the airfield.

  “I bet Mom called the Green Berets and they’re going to parachute in and put a major butt-kicking on these creeps,” Joshua said. “They won’t get any ransom for me, and that’s a promise.”

  The idea of ransom was completely foreign to Joshua. What kind of ransom could they demand for him? As far as he knew, he wasn’t rich. At least, he didn’t think his family was rich. They sure didn’t have a million dollars. His mom drove an okay car, but it wasn’t anything like the people on television drove, and his dad had driven a pickup truck. Unless Dad hid a ton of money somewhere and the bad guys know about it. Or maybe there’s a secret treasure.

  Joshua wiped his brow. He was several feet from the ground and climbing higher. Forget about caution; he had erred on the side of bravery and eaten the food. The empty bag now lay on the floor, surrounded by crumbs from the bread. The berries actually made his throat feel better. They were tart, but the juice coated his throat that it didn’t hurt much anymore when he swallowed. In the corner of the room was a puddle. Bravery always demands sacrifice.

  Joshua was getting the hang of this climbing stuff. He’d quickly learned that all the weight needs to go on the legs or else the arms get too tired. He was small, but strong, and pushed off remarkably well using his legs. The higher he went, the more tricks he discovered and soon he was using his hands strictly for balance. Joshua wasn’t having fun, not by a long shot—he was still a prisoner in a cave—but he did like climbing and reminded himself to ask for rope and gear on his next birthday.

  The tricky part was seeing. His flashlight watch was handy and had saved the day, but the light was directional and not very bright. He had to use his arms for climbing and couldn’t control the direction of the beam as his hands moved from spot to spot. In the end (a stroke of genius, he believed), Joshua solved the problem quite easily. He took off the watch and held it between his teeth. Now, the light moved in the direction of his eyes and allowed him to look for handholds.

  As he climbed, it was hard for Joshua not to think of Daniel. He wished he and his brother were together right now. He was certain that if Daniel were there, he’d know what to do. He’d be able to climb the wall in no time. Of course, he’d gripe and complain the whole way. Joshua could almost hear his brother’s voice. “Keep it down, Josh, or I’ll punch you like a time clock!” “Stay quiet, Josh, or I’ll smack you like a dirty rug!”

  Joshua pressed on, tired but determined. He was almost thirty feet high and beginning to think he was going to make it. That’s when he heard the noise, like the squeak of a wheel, coming from up top. It was the first sound he’d heard and made him almost jump out of his skin—and off the rock! He immediately took the watch from his mouth, doused the light, and hugged tightly against the wall, keeping his head down, afraid to look.

  Minutes passed, but Joshua heard nothing. Was it his imagination, or had they caught him trying to escape? He didn’t know, but he was terrified and couldn’t bring himself to move. His hands, however, weren’t as cooperative. In a hurry to hide against the wall, he’d placed himself in an awkward position, one with a poor foothold, and his hands cramped. Joshua wondered whether he should keep going or abandon his escape and return to the cave.

  On the one hand, if he kept going, he might find his way to safety. Besides, he was already more than halfway there. On the other hand, what if the goons were waiting for him, ready to grab him as soon as he popped his head out of the hole? “I don’t know what to do,” he silently screamed.

  He had to do something, though. He couldn’t hold on any longer and it was either go up, go down, or fall—and he was sick of falling. Slowly, Joshua lifted his head to see how far it was to the top, and for the briefest of seconds, he saw a figure retreat into the darkness. There was no doubt, he was being watched.

  Joshua gave up and climbed down, carefully this time, afraid of what would happen if he fell.

  ***

  Sitting on the floor of the cave, Joshua wrestled with heavy eyelids. He resigned himself to making shadow puppets on the wall. The shadows grew longer and less distinguishable, until, while making a German shepherd, Joshua’s head dropped and sleep came upon him.

  As he slept, a figure emerged from above, the one Joshua spotted earlier, and quickly, with an ease of dexterity, descended the cave wall. Joshua, unaware of the person standing over him, breathed easily, lost in deep slumber.

  Chapter 22

  Patience Lost

  “Who’s there?” Joshua opened his eyes and yelled.

  Nobody. He was alone. His sleep had darkened, and he woke with a sense of evil. But there was no one there.

  Joshua didn’t mean to fall asleep—it just happened. He’d never been able to stay awake all night, no matter how hard he tried. He was always the first to nod off when they watched late-night movies on the weekend; even on road trips, he’d be out like a light by the time they crossed the state line. Joshua rubbed his eyes and tried to refocus on his surroundings. The food bag was gone, and this made his skin crawl. For a second time, someone had paid him a visit in the night. At least Joshua assumed it was night; a place like this didn’t deserve light.

  It was like they were playing some twisted game, toying with him as a child does with a confused kitten. They hadn’t stripped and beaten him. There were no cuts on his body, no visible signs of harm. There was solely the missing food sack, which made it all the worse.

  “Show yourself!” Joshua yelled. He could no longer stand the anticipation. He’d rather be tortured by his enemy than the unknown dread he felt with each minute of being here. “If you’re going to do it, do it. Get it over with, already.”

  His throat burning with every syllable, he screamed at the top of his lungs. He was going to make them hear, make them show themselves.

  “What, are you chicken? Come on out!”

  The words tumbled from his lips. He didn’t bother to stop them. Every insult he could think of, every bad name he’d ever heard, he used. He knew if his mother were here, she’d wash his mouth out with soap, but anyone who would kidnap a boy and stick him in a hole deserved these names and probably several others that weren’t invented yet. Joshua screamed then screamed some more. His raspy voice lifted high overhead, traveling higher than his body had been able. Even though he might live to regret this moment, Joshua let it all out, an open and verbal letter to his enemy. His face flushed scarlet and the veins on his temple looked ready to explode.

  “Tell me why you’re doing this to me!”

  ***

  High overhead, in a dark and drab room, the s
lave paced nervously, his shoulders slumped and his countenance grim. He placed one hand on the lever of an enormous wheel, the other on an iron chain, listening for footsteps coming from the hall. Indecisive, he took his hands off the wheel and returned to his seat on the wooden stool.

  Two torches on the wall served as the room’s source of light. Their flames flickered as the door opened and a man, draped in blackness, entered. He addressed the slave in a droning voice. “Why do you disturb me?”

  “It’s the boy.”

  The man stood at the edge of the hole and looked at the prisoner trapped below. He noticed the boy’s flushed cheeks, the beaded sweat on his brow, the way the boy clutched at his throat. “The boy calls for an audience, does he?”

  “What would you have me do with him?”

  “Let him scream. Leave him alive, though.”

  The man raised his slender, ashen finger to the slave, revealing the gold band on the sleeve of his cloak. “Now do your job. Do not summon me again. If I have to come, it won’t be alone.”

  Chapter 23

  Explanations

  Alistair heard the noise coming from outside and opened the door to see what was going on. “Abracadabra!” Daniel yelled and jumped off the roof of the cabin, landing with a thud on the ground. He stood, wearing Alistair’s robe from the day before and using it as a cape. “Look at me, I’m a wizard!” He scrambled back up the roof and jumped again, crashing hard on the soft grass below.

  “Should I even bother to ask what you’re doing?” Alistair said.

  Daniel spit into his dirty hands and cleaned them on his jeans. “You see, I was thinking about it last night and here’s what I decided. Either you’re crazy and all that stuff about wizards and Magicals is nonsense, or you’re telling the truth, which means I’m a wizard and can fly. So, I decided to test out the theory. I’ve been jumping off the roof all morning and all I’ve got to show for it is a bunch of bruises on my butt. I guess that means everything you told me was a bunch of crazy talk. The thing I can’t figure out is how you changed out of the old man costume without me noticing—”