by Sharon Lee
He closed his eyes and made himself pay attention to what Felsic had said.
"Just any place at all?" he asked. "Right here on the beach?"
"That could be a problem," Felsic said; "Generally the beach's held to be neutral—not belonging to the sea or the land, if you understand me."
Moss nodded.
"No man's land."
There was a small silence, then Felsic outright laughed.
"That's it, that's it, exact! No man's land! You go a couple blocks inland, you might find something that'll do. Otherways, there's a youth hostel up at the top of Walnut. They'll spot you a night, you tell 'em you're working for Phyllis."
"Thanks," Moss said.
"No trouble, no trouble at all. I get off here." Felsic nodded toward the board walk crossing the dunes back onto the streets.
"I'll come with you, if I can," Moss said.
"Nothing stopping you that I see," Felsic answered easily, and so they crossed the boards together, and together they walked down to Grand, where Felsic turned right. Since he didn't have any reason to go left or right, so Moss stayed with Felsic. There was something. . .not kind—No, thought Moss, definitely not kind—about Felsic. Comforting. Down to earth, that was it.
Moss decided that he liked Felsic very much, indeed.
They walked for two blocks, then Felsic angled across the street to a place that was nothing but two houses, backing on what smelled like a salt marsh.
"This is me," Felsic said, and reached out to touch him, softly on the arm.
"Try for something further in. Don't wanna walk too far to work."
That made sense, Moss thought, and in the time it took him to think so, Felsic had walked around the back of one of the houses—and was gone.
Moss shivered, though it was plenty warm.
Just went in the back door, he told himself, and as if to bear him out, a light came on in the nearest house.
Moss nodded, shifted his pack on his back and turned back toward the heart of town.
#
He didn't much care for the idea of staying at anything called a "youth hostel." There were a number of bad things that routinely happened in dormitories, a couple of which he'd experienced up close and personal. The worst part of those being that he'd known better.
Well, it wasn't raining fit to drown a frog tonight. Tonight it was fine and clear, and there weren't too many people around, down this part of town. No reason for people to come down this way, which didn't offer no music, nor beer, nor nothing much at all, 'cept some little houses, like where Felsic lived. Back one street, there were trees and marsh.
He hit the corner and paused. From the left, he heard the crash and thunder of the waves against the shore. His feet turned, just slightly in that direction, and then—
It smelled like green leaves, and clean dirt, and pine, with a sweet underneath—maybe some flower he didn't know. From his right, away from the sea, borne on a breeze, was what he thought, but the wind was coming from the left, damp and fresh off the back of the waves.
Moss breathed in, letting the sweet, green air melt in his mouth like ice cream. He thought of laying himself down on a mound of pine needles, and sleeping safe and unmolested.
He turned right, away from the crash and boom of the ocean, following the promise as much as the scent. A couple feet down, he left the sidewalk, following a thin, faintly glowing trail, through weeds and reeds, past some sapling trees, between a green-glowing boulder and a white birch tree. . .
. . .and into a clearing floored with soft pine needles. Just off center of the clearing stood the remains of a big, old tree, its limbs broken, but its trunk intact. He saw the small wrinkled objects dangling from one of the partial low branches, and put a name, at last, to the sweet smell.
Apples.
He sighed, looked around, feeling the welcome come up from the ground through the soles of his feet, and tears came to his eyes, even as he thought that this was what Felsic must've meant, about the land being welcoming.
And this little piece of land, right here, welcomed him.
"Thank you," he said, not feeling the littlest bit silly about talking outloud to trees and stones. "I'd like to stay here. I gotta get up in time for breakfast and work tomorrow, but I'll stay here, if you'll have me." He looked around, and saw the gleam of one of those stupid pull-tabs among the pine needles.
"I'll clean up," he said, "and do what else needs done."
The scent of apples grew momentarily stronger; he yawned, hard on it, and slipped his pack off his back.
"It's been a long day," he told the trees, and cast about him. There was a soft mound of leaves and old needles just under the old apple tree, and it came to him that there would be a comfortable bed.
He settled in with a sigh, his pack under his head, pine needles and dead leaves for a blanket, and drifted off to sleep.
#
He woke to bird song; opened his eyes and just laid there, smiling up into the broken branches above him and just feeling. . .happy. He'd had a dream that he'd talked to the grandmother of this little place, and she had told him that she loved him, and he could stay here forever, if he chose it.
Forever. Now, wasn't that something?
Moss sighed, and the bird sang again, louder this time, or so it seemed to Moss, and he remembered that he had to get up and go to work.
He left his pack leaning against the trunk of the old apple tree, confident that no one would mess with it while he was gone, then he left his welcoming little piece of land, and headed down to Bob's for breakfast.
#
He was at Noah's Ark well before the ten o'clock opening. Felsic was already there, tending the mules at the Coal Mine. Moss went over to help.
"Sleep good, deah?"
Moss smiled.
"Best in years. Found a. . .welcoming spot."
"Did you now?" Felsic murmured, moving a brush slowly down a mule's short neck.
Moss braced himself, but Felsic didn't ask him where he was sleeping. They finished up combing and harnessing in companionable silence, broken at last by the clang of the side gate closing.
"That'll be Sally," Felsic said. "Best you learn set-up over at the slide. 'preciate the help, here; you got a good hand with the animals."
"My grampaw had mules at his place. I used to help with 'em."
"Well, he taught you good. Go 'long, now."
#
It was good to belong, it was good to work, and to earn money, and to have a good, safe place that was his to care for, and that cared for him back. Summer heated up, people kept on coming down to Archers Beach, 'til there wasn't hardly any room to walk on the sidewalks, and the rides were busy from opening to close; and on July Fourth, him and Sally, and Felsic and Phyllis all climbed up to the top of Jack 'n Jill and stood on the platform to watch the fireworks. They were so high up, it was like being inside the sparks, and Moss felt each explosion echo in his chest.
In between, he worked on his land, clearing out the old trash, and finding the boundaries of the place that welcomed him, in particular, and bloomed under his care.
He met a bunch of folk, who worked on the rides, and elsewhere 'round the Beach. In particular, he met Vornflee, who was a friend of Felsic's, and who worked at the Moon Ride; and Bonny, who ran the carousel on the other side of the parking lot. Bonny was an important lady, Moss could see that. Even Phyllis deferred to her. She considered him for a long time after they was introduced, face serious; then she nodded, and put a hand on his shoulder.
"You'll do fine," she told him. "Just remember not to be afraid."
Truth said, he didn't have time to be afraid, busy as he was, and it was only 'cause Sally said something about the moon landing coming right up that he realized a month and more had gone past and he'd never been happier in his life.
"I'm goin' up to the top of the slide tonight, and see if I can't see it."
"See what?" Moss asked. "Moon's only just past new."
"The space
ship," Sally told him, with that little sniff that meant she was annoyed.
"Oh," Moss said, 'cause he didn't like Sally to be mad with him; "the spaceship. That's a different proposition. Maybe you can see that."
"I'm gonna try it," Sally said, determinedly; and added, with a side-look at him. "You can come up, too, if you want."
"Sure," he said. "Meet after dinner?"
She nodded, and the gong went off, and it was time to get to work.
#
He was finishing up his clam chowder when he heard the first siren, and lifted his head, eyes wide.
"Engine number one," Vornflee said, tipping his head, burger held between two hands.
"Headin' down the hill," Felsic said, pushing back from the table, and standing. "Let me just step outside an—"
"Fire at the White Way!" Bob yelled, coming out from the kitchen. "Just heard it on the scanner! All callmen wanted!"
Chairs scraped, and people jumped up, heading towards the door in a rush. Felsic started that way, too.
"You ain't a call man," Vornflee said.
"Fire at the White Way," Felsic said. "I better see to the mules."
Moss stood, too.
"I'll help," he said.
Vornflee sighed, put his burger down on the plate and got up, too.
"I'll watch."
#
There was a pumper engine 'round back of the White Way, and two volunteer firemen using hoses on a small, smoky fire at the back corner. Moss followed Felsic 'round and over the fence, which was a quicker route to the Mine—and 'sides none of them had the key to the gate.
The space between the rides was filled with smoke, and Moss could hear the mules calling.
"Open the gate," Felsic told Vornflee. "Moss 'n me'll get the animals."
Vornflee nodded and ran; Moss followed Felsic.
The smoke was thicker by the entrance to the Mine, swirling around like it knew there was live things inside for it to torment. Felsic opened the door to the mule pen.
"Get the old man," Felsic said, and Moss grabbed a halter from the wall and went over the fence. The mules were anxious. A couple of the youngers brayed, presssed against the back of the enclosure, like they were trying to get away from the smoke that stalked them even there.
Old Man, though, he saw Moss and moved forward, two more mules following. Moss got the halter on, and patted the old mule.
"Let's go. s'only smoke so far, but you keep sensible, in case you see any fire." He looked at the two keeping pace, though they had no halters: Lacey and Gretel, both sensible folk.
"C'mon, then," he said, and walked them out of the enclosure, into the waiting area, and out into the park.
The smoke was still swirling, and Moss coughed as it got into his mouth. The Old Man was coming right along and his friends, too. Ahead, through the smoke, Moss could see the park gate open, and the parking lot full of cars beyond. He could hear music, from the Pier, and people shouting.
Bonny from the carousel was waiting outside, with Phyllis. Bonny took the Old Man's halter and led him away, toward the beach, Gretel and Lacy still following. Moss turned back, and here came Felsic, the rest of the mules following behind.
"Beach," said Phyllis, and Felsic turned that way.
An explosion rocked the night; smoke belched out of everywhere, like the sidewalks had opened up and hell was coming forth.
"Pull back, pull back! She's going up!"—that was the guys in the pumper truck, and there were other guys yelling—"Get those cars outta here!" and the sound of breaking glass, and—"Oh, no," Phyllis whispered. "Sally."
Moss spun, staring up, and there, silhouetted against the rising flames, Sally stood on the topmost platform of the giant slide, looking out over the confusion, illuminated and then cast into shadow by the dancing flames.
The fire was everywhere, now. The pile of sawdust at the bottom of the slide was afire. The Moon Ride was hidden in smoke, and long threads of flame licked out of the entrance into Noah's Ark.
Moss threw himself at the scaffolding, starting to climb.
"Sally!" he yelled.
"Moss!"
"Climb down!"
"The slide!"
"The sawdust is on fire! Climb down!"
His chest was burning, which wasn't a surprise, with everything else on fire. He hung onto the scaffolding and looked up. Sally was climbing down. That was good. Sally climbed like a cat; he didn't worry about her falling, but if the scaffold got too hot to hold. . .
"Hey, you kids! Get outta there! Charlie! We need the hose!"
Water began to fall though the cloud of smoke. Moss clung and coughed, and watched Sally climb closer, and finally come to rest next to him.
"Why are they spraying us with water?"
"To keep the fire off of us," Moss gasped. "C'mon, we gotta get outta here."
#
It was gone.
They'd stood there, all together, their arms around each others' waists, watching the amusement park burned.
Around ten o'clock Noah's Ark screamed like a live thing, foundered and collapsed in on itself, flames shooting out of the crater left behind.
Soon after, Jack 'n Jill, girders and slide all soft and black, sagged, crashed to its knees, and tipped over onto its side. The Moon Ride was gone by then, and the White Way was nothing more than ash and glowing timbers.
More fire trucks had arrived from the towns nearby, and they mostly concentrated on keeping the fire from reaching the Pier. They ran hoses into the sea, sprayed down the charred entrance ramp, and managed to keep the fire on land. There were people on the Pier, stranded for now, though Moss thought they'd be able to get off fine—tomorrow, maybe, after they'd gotten boats in and the last of the fire had died.
For now, he was tired. His chest ached, a little, his throat was raw, and his eyes streaming. At last somebody—maybe it was Bonny, maybe it was Phyllis—got them moving, away from the destruction, down Grand, to Bob's.
The place was jammed, even more than usual, no place to sit, and Moss finally sort of leaned up against the wall, feeling empty and sad. It was so crowded, it was hard to breathe, and his head was thumping hard, in an irregular rhythm that was making him sick to his stomach.
Air, that was what he needed. No, more than that. He needed to go back to his place, his little piece o'land, and sit down under the broken apple tree. Maybe take a nap. . .
He pushed away from the wall, but—funny thing; his knees just wouldn't hold him and down he went, hitting a chair and making a big noise, an even bigger noise than what was happening in his head, and—
"Moss!"
Felsic, that was; Felsic picking him up and holding him like he didn't weigh nothing at all.
"Gotta get home," he said—or tried to say—"I don't feel so good."
"Where's home, Mossie?" That wasn't Felsic, that was Bonny, and it was Bonny's hand, he thought, that came cool across his forehead.
"Down on Walnut, little place, old apple tree. . ."
"That place?" Phyllis sounded startled, but from a long, long ways away. He was so tired. . .
"Easy, easy. . ." Felsic murmured.
He felt a little jolt of cool peacefulness, and things come nearer again, though there was something funny happening with his eyes.
"Boy's accepted," Vornflee said, and Bob's voice came in over that, with—
"The kid's dying, Bonny. . ."
"Perhaps not," Bonny said. "Felsic?"
"I'll carry him." He felt himself lifted and shifted and put his head against something firm and soft.
"You stick with me," Felsic whispered in his ear, or maybe straight into his head. "Stick with me, Mossie; I'll get you home."
#
Might've been he blacked out, 'cause the next thing he did know was the welcome of his own place, rising up into him. He smiled, and he was so very tired. . .
"Moshe, listen to me." That was Bonny again, calling him by his right name, which he'd rather she didn't. He was Moss now, and he
belonged to this place.
"That's right," Felsic said. "But you gotta choose it, brother. The land won't take—you gotta give."
"Dying," Moss said, remembering Bob, and his heart, and his promise to his Momma, that he'd be careful—but he had been careful, just not. . .careful enough.
"Dying," Felsic said; "but not dead. If you choose it, the land will have you. But not even the land can cure the dead."
"Moss—" Bonny again. "Open yourself up to the land. It knows you, this land; it loves you. Give yourself to it. I'll tell you; I knew the lady who lived in that apple tree; I was only a sapling myself when she bent down to disease, but I remember her. She was a stickler, and she didn't love easy, but once she did, her heart never closed. If what's left of her in this land chose you, then you can't do any better."
"How. . ." The thumping, and his breathing. . .
"Felsic," Phyllis said. "Let him go. It's his choice now, and you've kept him overlong, if his choice is to go."
Go? But he never wanted to go! He wanted to stay right here, here with this sweet place that loved him and kept him safe—that he loved and would shield with his life and more—he'd promised!
"And I promised," said a voice that he knew better than his own.
He opened his eyes, and there she was, the grandmother of this place. She opened her arms, and he walked into her embrace.
He felt the welcome rise in him, like the tide; he smelled fresh green leaves and sweet apples, pine, and leaf mold, and it seemed, for a minute that his heart stopped beating altogether, and he didn't need breath at all. He felt the weight of the apple tree; knew the flowers like they were his own fingers, and the stones like they were his toes. He was Moss; he was the lady of the apple tree; and the little brown bird—the skylark—that sung him awake every morning, so he'd be on time for work. He was all of the pieces, and the perfect sum of everything. . .
"Here he comes back to us," Felsic said.
Moss opened his eyes, and smiled; feeling his land smile through him.
"I'm not going to die," he said, like he was comforting Felsic.
"Not for a good, long while, I'm thinking," Felsic answered, and all around him he heard an exhale as if a roomful of folk had suddenly sighed at once in relief and pleasure.