The Whirlwind, page 3
part #3 of Imager Chronicles Series
It was Denise’s turn to shudder. “Bobok!” she gasped. “You think Bobok was here?”
Nathan looked up. He tried to swallow but there was nothing in his mouth to swallow. He was frightened, and Denise knew why. Bobok was the evil ice ball who had lured him into Keygarp. Bobok was the one who had held him prisoner in the horrible menagerie. Bobok was the one who had nearly destroyed them at the Portal. And now, that very same Bobok had been in this very same room just a few hours earlier. Nathan had every reason to be terrified.
But Denise handled fear differently. When she got frightened, she got angry. And when she got angry, she paced. “Why?” she demanded as she started walking back and forth across the room. “Why would he come here? And what about Josh? You think he took Josh?”
Nathan gave no answer.
“And the Bloodstone—where’s the Bloodstone?” She passed the window. Outside the clouds were starting to turn pink with the first signs of dawn. She moved closer for a better look. It was then she noticed the canteen attached to her belt. It was starting to bubble again.
“We got to do something!” Nathan cried.
Denise turned around, startled by the outburst.
“Josh’s been stolen by Bobok! We’ve got to help him!”
“But how?” she asked. “Without the Bloodstone we can’t signal Fayrah—we can’t do anything.”
“He’s my brother!”
“I know, I know,” she said, motioning him to lower his voice so he wouldn’t wake the house. “But what can we do? Without the Bloodstone there’s no way we can . . . Unless . . . ” An idea began to form.
“Unless what?” Nathan demanded.
“Do you remember when we first got the Bloodstone?”
“Sure, it was on my birthday. You gave it to me for my—”
“No, before that. Remember I told you I found it up in my uncle’s attic—in that old trunk of his?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So maybe there’s more of it.”
“More Bloodstone?” Doubt filled Nathan’s voice.
“Yeah . . . or maybe, maybe something else. I mean, my uncle collected a lot of crazy stuff, right?”
“Denny,” Nathan argued. “Going through your uncle’s trunk isn’t going to get Josh back!”
“All right then.” She folded her arms. “What do you suggest?”
Nathan looked at her.
She looked at Nathan.
Finally, without a word, he spun around and started for the door.
“Where you going?”
“To get out of these pajamas so we can go to your uncle’s.”
Denise nodded. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
She moved to the desk, turned off the burner, and headed out into the hall. It was only then that she remembered the canteen and reached down to feel it again. But the boiling had stopped. How odd. When she was in the room, close to the window, it was boiling like crazy. But now as she headed down the hall toward the stairs it felt completely normal.
How very odd.
“Faster, dearest of ladies,” Bobok urged. “Faster.”
Though her lungs cried for air, the Illusionist galloped harder. It was one thing to carry Bobok from kingdom to kingdom, but to drag the unconscious Upside Downer on the litter behind them—well, she was definitely feeling the strain.
Then there was their current direction. At the moment, they were traveling through Quurak-Bruuk—the Kingdom of Rock. And the rock wasn’t just the land portion. It was every portion. Everything in Quurak-Bruuk was rock. The land, the sea, even the air. Of course, moving through such a kingdom can be a little tricky (breathing in it isn’t so easy either). Fortunately, the molecules in this dimension were billions of times bigger, so the Illusionist could easily navigate between them, leaping from one molecule to another. Still, it was no picnic.
“Are you certain we are traveling in the correct direction?” the Illusionist panted. “I don’t recall the Kingdom of Perfection being this way.”
“My dearest friend,” Bobok cooed, “you doubt my navigation skills?”
“Of course not,” the Illusionist moaned. “I only hope this lengthy voyage has nothing to do with my little joke of feeding you the doggie biscuit.”
“Gentle lady,” Bobok chuckled, “I’m far above that sort of thing.”
“Of course you are,” the Illusionist agreed, knowing full well that he wasn’t. “How is the boy?” she asked.
Bobok looked over his shoulder to the cot dragging behind them. In the bedroom, they had pressed the right combination of nerves on the boy’s neck to put him to sleep. But he would not sleep forever. “Hurry, esteemed one,” Bobok called. “We must arrive at Perfection before he wakes.”
“I have little remaining strength,” she groaned. “And my hooves are splitting from the sharp edges of the rock.”
“Then dwell on the beauty of our trap,” Bobok chortled. “Dream of the pain we will inflict upon Imager. Dream of breaking his heart. Dream whatever you must, but hurry. Hurry!”
Chapter 4
Greetings from an Old Friend
Nathan was so concerned about his brother that he kept most of the wisecracks about Denise’s uncle to himself. But it wasn’t easy. The guy was a nutcase. Everyone in town knew it. He’d been some sort of filmmaker—always off in some strange country filming some strange tribe or some strange something.
Then, about three years ago, after telling incredibly weird tales that no one believed, he suddenly disappeared. That was it. Denise’s aunt woke up one morning and he was gone. No one had heard from him since.
“Typical,” everyone said. “Not surprising,” they agreed. “A nutcase,” they concluded.
Still, the man had found the Bloodstone . . .
Who knows, maybe there were other things in the trunk. Who knows, after their journeys to Fayrah, maybe some of his weird stories weren’t so weird after all. At least that’s what Nathan hoped as Denise’s aunt welcomed them inside, as the two trudged upstairs into the dusty attic, as they found the old steamer trunk off in the corner, as they lifted its heavy lid.
The hinges creaked and groaned until at last they had it opened. And when they looked inside they found . . .
“Nothing?” Denise exclaimed. “How can that be?”
But she was right. There was nothing but a bunch of old, musty clothes and faded photographs. Well, almost nothing. Because when they dug through the pile of clothes and reached the bottom they did find something.
“Take a look at this,” Nathan said as he pulled out a dusty old camera. At least that’s what he thought it was. But it had no lens. In fact, it was even hard to tell which was the front or the back. After looking it over he shrugged and tossed it on the pile of clothes.
“How ’bout this?” Denise asked as she removed a thin, flat stone. It was gray, perfectly smooth, and about the size of a large writing pad.
“Let me see,” Nathan said. Before she could stop him, he yanked it from her hands and turned it over. But there was nothing more to it. No writing, no markings, nothing. “Figures,” he sighed as he tossed it beside the camera. “I was right, your uncle was a nutcase.”
He glanced back into the trunk. There was nothing left but a rusty jackknife, some scratched sunglasses, and a dirty, beat-up audiocassette tape.
“I knew there wouldn’t be anything here,” he scoffed as Denise pulled out the tape. It was caked in dirt and had no label. He continued, “I don’t know why I let you talk me into these stupid things.”
Denise didn’t answer but licked her fingers and rubbed at the dirt. Slowly, something began to emerge. “Nathan,” she said, “take a look at this.”
He moved closer. Underneath the grime there was the faint scribbling of a pen. Denise kept rubbing, careful not to remove the ink, until they both saw the words:
"Greetings from Biiq."
They stared in silence. Nathan knew all about Biiq, the Kingdom of Math and Science. He knew this was the kingdom where Denise had created Gus and Gerty. And he knew it was the kingdom where Josh had studied Imager’s logic on a computer.
He raised his eyes to Denise.
She raised her eyes to him.
Then, without a word, they both leaped to their feet and headed for the stairs. It was time to find a cassette player . . . and fast!
"Where am I? ’’Josh groaned as he stirred on the cot. Finally he was able to pry open his eyes, but he was momentarily blinded by the glare of light. “What’s going on?”
“We have arrived at the Kingdom of Perfection,” a voice said. Shading his eyes, he rose to his elbows, looking for who was speaking. Then he spotted him. It was the blue ice ball!
“We are in the first realm,” the creature was saying, “the Realm of Appearance.”
“Your pet . . . ”
Josh searched until he spotted the coach standing nearby.
“He talks!”
“Yes,” the coach laughed. “It’s amazing what you can teach them with a little patience.”
The blue orb gave a tight smile then muttered, “It is one of my many talents.” Turning back to Josh, he continued, “In this first realm, you may change your appearance until you are absolutely perfect.” Josh threw his feet over the side of the cot and stood. Well, stood might not be the right word. For there was no ground to stand upon. Neither were there any trees, or buildings, or mountains.
But there were people—layers of them piled as high as the eye could see. They weren’t standing or lying on top of each other. Instead, they were divided into levels, each level floating about ten feet above the next. It was as if they were in a thousand-story office building but without walls or ceilings or floors—just layers of floating people. As Josh looked up he saw hundreds of these levels floating above him. And as he looked down, he saw hundreds more floating below.
The only other thing he noticed was the screaming. It was hideous.
The blue pet continued his explanation. “Each level is a step closer to physical perfection. The greater your perfection, the higher your level.”
Although the floating was an interesting sensation, the screaming definitely concerned Josh. He’d never heard people in such agony. “What’s with all that screaming?” he asked.
“Dear heart.” The coach drifted closer, seeming to ignore his question. “What is your least favorite feature?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you hate most about your appearance? What is your greatest physical imperfection?”
“I don’t know . . .’’ Josh shrugged. “Probably my nose. It’s always been a little too big.”
“Then make it smaller,” the blue orb suggested.
“What?”
“Push on your nose and make it smaller.”
“Yeah, right,” Josh smirked.
“Trust him, dear heart.” The coach smiled. “Do as he says.”
Josh looked at her. Then at her pet. They were serious. Of course it was a weird request, but let’s face it, this place wasn’t exactly unweird. Besides, what would it hurt? So, with another shrug, Josh gave his nose a little push.
“AHHH!” he screamed as incredible pain shot through his nose and face. But it was gone as quickly as it had come.
“What’s wrong, dear heart?”
“I don’t know,” Josh said, rubbing his nose. “Wait a minute. I don’t believe it. My nose! It’s smaller! My nose is smaller!”
“Of course,” the pet chortled. As he spoke, the three of them started floating up to the next level of people.
“What’s going on—-what’s happening?” Josh cried.
“Do not worry,” the coach soothed. “As we said, the greater your perfection, the higher your level. With enough hard work, you will reach a physical perfection greater than any of these others.”
“This is incredible,” Josh shouted as they finally arrived at the next level. “You mean I can change my looks any way I want?”
“Until you reach perfection,” the pet purred.
“Cool!”
“Then it’s off to the second realm of this kingdom,” the coach said. “The Realm of Perfect Popularity.”
“This is so neat!” Josh shouted. Then an idea came to mind. He reached down and grabbed hold of one of his legs.
“What are you doing?” the pet asked.
“I’ve always wanted to be taller,” he said, giving his leg a tug. “Imagine what I could do on the basketball court if—AHHHH!” There was the pain again. Only this time it was in his leg. And it was worse. “What was that?” he cried. “Why does it hurt so much?”
The pet explained. “Each level of perfection is more painful than the next. That is the screaming you hear.”
Joshua looked about. It was true. Everyone around him was shaping and re-forming their bodies. And each time they did, they let loose an agonizing scream.
“But . . . why?” Josh asked.
“Working toward perfection is a painful thing,” the pet replied. “It requires much work. Only a few are strong enough to pursue it.”
“And they are the ones you must beat to enter the next realm,” the coach added.
Josh glanced about. “Is there only one winner?”
“In each group, yes. And this is your group,” the coach said as she stretched out her arm to all the levels. Then, leaning closer, she added, “It is a strong group, but you’re not afraid of a little competition, are you?”
Josh shook his head. “Of course not. But all of this pain . . . all of this screaming.”
The coach’s smile faded slightly before she quickly cleared her throat and changed subjects. “Dear heart, are you going to continue keeping one leg shorter than the other? Do you not wish to enter the next level?”
Josh frowned as he tilted back his head to see the hundreds of levels above him. “I don’t know, guys, it’s a long ways up there . . .”
The coach sighed. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps it is too much effort for you to pursue a perfect body. Of course, that means you will never enter the second half of the kingdom, the Realm of Perfect Popularity, but—”
“Now wait a minute,” Josh interrupted, “I didn’t mean—”
“If he’s not perfect in body and popularity,” the pet argued, “then he’ll never be able to enter the Sea of Justice, he’ll never receive all that he deserves.”
“I understand,” the coach said. “But if he does not wish perfection no one can force him.”
“Hold it, wait a minute!” Josh exclaimed. “I didn’t say I didn’t want it. I just said, er, what I mean is . . . ”
The coach turned to him. “Yes?”
The blue pet floated closer, also waiting.
Josh coughed, then forced himself to continue. “No, great, good. It all sounds great to me. Let’s get on with it.”
The coach cocked her head at him skeptically.
“No, honest—I mean, who wouldn’t want to have a perfect body and be super popular? After all, that’s why we’re here, right? Besides, that Sea of Justice is definitely something I want to visit.”
“Are you certain, dear heart?” the coach asked.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Because if you’re not, we can—”
“No, I’m certain! I’m certain!”
“Well, then, Joshua O’Brien,” the pet said, “shall we continue?” Josh swallowed, then nodded.
They waited.
So did he—until he realized it was his move. Taking a deep breath, he bent down to his shorter leg, grabbed it with both hands, and started to pull.
“Ahhhhh!” he screamed. The pain was unbelievable, but as soon as he succeeded it stopped. As before, they slowly rose toward the next level. And as they floated, was it Josh’s imagination or had he caught the coach and her pet exchanging grins? Maybe it was pride over his accomplishment. Maybe something else. It didn’t matter. At the moment he had other things on his mind. There was so much more he needed to fix to become perfect . . .
Denise stood over the portable cassette player in her room and looked puzzled at Nathan. They’d raced all the way to her house, turned the place upside down until they found an old cassette player, then they threw on the cassette tape. And for what? To hear gibberish?
“What’s he saying?” Nathan asked.
Denise frowned. “I can’t make it out. I mean, it sounds like Bud, but—”
Again the tape spoke:
Denise’s scowl deepened. “It sounds familiar, but—wait a minute!” She quickly reached for the canteen on her belt and began unscrewing the lid.
“What are you doing?”
“Remember whenever we go to Fayrah”—she began pouring the liquid letters from the canteen into her hands—“how we have to put the stream’s water in our ears to understand the people?”
“Right! Of course!” Nathan shouted.
Quickly, Denise splashed the liquid letters into her left and right ears. Then she poured them into Nathan’s eager hands for him to do the same.
“Very good good, guys,” the cassette player said. “I knew you’d figure it out out. ”
“Bud!” the kids cried in unison. “Bud . . . can you hear us? Bud!”
“Of course I can hear you you. I’m not deaf.”
“But how . . .” Denise faltered. “How can you hear us? This isn’t a cell phone, it’s a cassette player!”
“And I’m talking to you on a cassette.”
Denise and Nathan frowned at each other.
“Peculiar, huh huh?”
The children nodded.
Bud continued, “Remember Olga, the computer?”
Again the two looked at each other.
“Hello . . . ”
“Of course,” Denise finally spoke. “Olga, the super computer.”
“Remember how, through probability, she knows knows everything you’ll ever say or do do before you do do it?”
“Yeah . . .”
“Well, she’s printed out exactly what you’ll say say before you say it—complete with each of your pauses and facial expressions. So all I have to do do is answer them. ”
