The Fortress of Clouds

by J. A. J. Peters

  “Alison, what are you doing?” whispered Ben. “You’re just going to make everything worse!”

  “Shut up, Ben,” said Alison out the side of her mouth. “I have a plan. Just be quiet.”

  “I thought we couldn’t watch TV or the internet down here,” said Thomas. “Isn’t it part of the network? Won’t the police be able to trace it?”

  “They don’t monitor TV--nobody watches it anymore,” explained Lorenz. “Except the old people who can’t live without their soap operas and entertainment gossip. Which is all that is ever broadcast these days anyway.”

  “Hey, I like those show!” yelled Ming.

  “So it is not part of the giant web of surveillance like the internet,” explained Lorenz, ignoring Ming’s protest.

  Jawl came back, lugging a big, boxy television from which a long cord stretched back into the cavern. He dropped it onto the table and a layer of dust floated off the black plastic.

  “Ah, the old wired world, eh?” said Lorenz, as if he were sixty years old and reminiscing about his childhood. He pushed a button on the front and the TV sprung to life.

  “Channel 24,” said Ming. Jawl pushed a few buttons and a woman’s voice sang out of the TV.

  “As always, rumors continue to circulate about who Milagro will choose for his wife.”

  There was footage of a man in a tuxedo emerging from a limousine. He was bombarded by flashing cameras so it was hard to see what he looked like, but he appeared to be thin, with a huge smile, perfectly tanned, and with sharply-defined black hair.

  “The latest offers of marriage have come from a German baroness and a Japanese movie star. Milagro says the he is flattered by all the affection, but that his first love is helping the children in his Pre-employment Facilities. One day, though, we all know that one lucky girl will become Mrs. Milagro and I think I speak for the entire world when I say we can hardly wait.”

  “Pbbttt, whatever,” said Cabra. “The man is incapable of love--his heart is dry as a desert. That’s all just to convince people that he’s not a monster.”

  “Shh! I like hearing about his love life,” said Ming. “Even if he is evil,” she added as an afterthought.

  “So is Milagro a code name too?” asked Hannah.

  “No, I’m afraid not, but you might say that it’s a highly ironic one,” said Cabra with a wink. “The only miracle he’s responsible for is making money off poor people. Dunno what his real name is. People just call him Milagro ‘cause that’s the name of his company.”

  “Shh!” hissed Ming. “I want to hear this. And real name is Michael.”

  “Meanwhile, Milagro has been busy helping the unfortunate victims of the latest infestation of killer bees to hit the Los Angeles area. He has agreed to provide BeeGone, the pesticide sold by the MilagChem branch of Milagcorp, to the city at a deeply discounted rate.”

  The camera then switched to footage of Milagro speaking before a group of reporters. Camera flashes continually bleached his face.

  “This crisis has hit all of us incredibly hard and I cannot stand idly by and watch our city be destroyed by this devastating plague.”

  The camera went back to the reporter, who shook her head in disbelief at the scale of Milagro’s generosity.

  “What an amazing man. What an amazing man.”

  “Now, Alison,” said Lorenz as he turned down the volume. “What the, uh, newswhore will not tell you is that Milagro bred and released the bees himself . . . so he could sell his pesticides to the city. At a deeply discounted rate, of course. Out of the kindness of his heart, you can be sure.” Lorenz smiled at Alison as he sat down beside her. Why was he being so nice to her?

  Alison grew speechless. “What, you mean . . .”

  “Welcome to the amazin’ world of Milagronomics,” said Jawl as he got up from the table, spilling a pile of chicken bones and releasing a loud belch as he walked away.

  “What’s Milagronomics?” asked Ben.

  “A system of economics whereby Milagro owns everything,” quipped Cabra from the other end of the table.

  “Ha, that is also true,” said Lorenz. “No, Milagronomics basically involves creating a problem that you already own a solution for.”

  “That’s ridiculous--people would be outraged!” stammered Alison.

  “Of course they would, of course they would,” said Lorenz. He took a cigar out of his pocket and started to nibble on it. “And that is why it is very important that nobody can ever know who created the problem in the first place.”

  “Who’s that dumb?” asked Alison. “Can’t they see that he’s doing this?”

  Lorenz smiled at her. “Well, Alison, people in crisis don’t really have the time or energy to be asking the sorts of questions that enter in your smart, little mind.” Ben thought that he saw Lorenz wink at Alison as he did this, but it happened too quickly to be sure.

  “Ben?” asked Hannah in a hushed voice as she tugged on his sleeve. “You know that story Mom used to tell us about the magician who was selling protection from his toad? Doesn’t Mila-gro-nomics sound a lot like that?” But Ben was distracted by the TV cutting out in a gray cough. Basho slammed the TV with his fist. The entire table shook but the TV remained in its snowy coma.

  “Da storm outside musta knocked da TV lines down,” explained Basho. He picked up the TV as if it were an empty box, walked out to the edge of the cavern, and tossed it back out into the junk pile. Alison turned back to Lorenz. “I’m still not convinced,” she said. “Sooner or later, people would figure out that Milagro was making money off the misfortune of others.”

  A sneer returned to Lorenz’s face. “It is not my job to prove reality to you, Alison. It is your job to prove your worth to me. Besides, what I have just explained is only the beginning.” Lorenz tilted his head back and lit his cigar. He watched Basho rummaging around out in the cavern, and then leaned in and spoke in a much quieter voice. “There is a rumor circulating out there that Milagro is close to finding a cure for cancer.”

  “Yes, well that would be a terrible thing,” said Alison.

  “Yes, it would be,” said Lorenz. “Especially when you are also working on a way to turn cancer into a virus. It’ll be passed around like the common cold. And Milagro will own the cure.”

  Alison turned white. “That . . . that can’t be true.”

  “Disbelieve this at your own risk, Alison,” said Lorenz calmly. Clouds of rich cigar smoke swelled around him.

  “I . . . we want to see it with our own eyes.”

  “See what?”

  “Something, anything, . . . proof. Let us come with you on your raid tomorrow.”

  Lorenz considered this for a moment before turning to Jawl, as if to seek a reference for the children’s reliability.

  “Alison, that’s quite okay, thank you,” said Ben.

  But Alison remained fixed on Lorenz as she waited for an answer.

  “This will be tactical strike,” said Lorenz. “If you mess up or try to run to the police, you will be killed instantly. Terminado.”

  Alison’s throat moved in a large gulp. “Fine,” she said as she straightened her back. “We will come with you and you can show me how the world really works. And we can prove our worth to you.”

  “Hannah stay here,” said Ming. “She too young to be doing army games.”

  “I am not,” protested Hannah. “I’m the same age as Thomas and if he gets to go then that’s not fair!”

  “Hannah will come,” Lorenz said. “She is old enough to help.”

  “Good,” said Hannah.

  Lorenz got up, stretched, and by arching his back tried to look as tall as he possibly could. “Okay, everyone, listen,” he said. “Here is the plan for tomorrow. There is going to be an unveiling of the new Children’s’ Facility up in the hills. Milagro will be there to cut the ribbon at nine o’clock. We have established a small entrance into the kitchen in the building and first thing tomorrow we will place detonation devices throughout the facility.
Then, as Milagro cuts the ribbon . . .” Lorenz paused for effect, a wicked smile growing across his face. “The entire place will come down. Todos!”

  Everyone began shouting in a synchronized roar and pumping their fists in the air.

  “Okay, okay!” shouted Lorenz. “Calm down!” He was breathing heavily from the shouting, and smiling from ear to ear. “Everyone, shut up! There is still one more thing we need to do.” He turned to the end of the table, where a slumped figure sat under a white cowboy hat. The clamor subsided. “Now, Cabra,” said Lorenz in a hesitant voice. “What do you feel about tomorrow?”

  “There is wonderful success in the skies, Lorenz,” said Cabra without hesitation. He leaned on his cane and got to his feet. Behind him, Mitty rose in perfect mimicry of his master and followed as Cabra slowly hobbled to the center of the room. The rest of the kids in the room became transfixed. Jawl was biting his fingernails.

  “Excellente!” said Lorenz under his breath.

  “I saw it in the wee hours this morning,” said Cabra, his voice now echoing grandly. “Pluto is in perfect position and I have heard whisperings in the wind of great change ahead.”

  The Graham children looked at each other in bewilderment. What on earth was Cabra talking about?

  “And what are the . . . the spirits saying about tomorrow?” asked Lorenz eagerly. “Could you . . . would you be kind enough to ask them?”

  “Of course, of course,” said Cabra with a sweep of his hand. “Ahem.” He leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, but it was a few seconds before any words tumbled out. And then tumble out they did.

  “Oh, great spirits, we call upon you to guide us in our noble quest tomorrow,” he said in an almost song-like voice. And then a strange humming came from his throat. “Mmmmm. We seek your guidance. Mmmmm. There is great injustice and we seek your guidance to . . . to help right the listing ship. Where are the winds? Where are the winds that blow the sails of our listing ship, great spirits?” He leaned back even further and then emitted a groaning noise, like he was gagging on something. This went on for at least a minute before he snapped to attention. “Ahhh, I see them, yes, I see them,” he finally said. He lowered his head and opened his eyes with a smile.

  A few moments’ silence passed. Lorenz was chewing nervously on the stub of his cigar.

  “There will be no resistance,” said Cabra. “They are not anticipating anything.” And then he raised his hands above his head. “The day is yours to take!” he yelled.

  “Rifamos!” cried Lorenz. Everyone instantly shot up and resumed their riotous celebrations. Cabra shuffled back to the end of the table and clapped in time with the yelling. The four Graham children sat there, utterly confused. Did Cabra just talk to some sort of spirit? Could he somehow see what other people were doing?

  But there was something more pressing Ben needed to settle. In the midst of the chaos in the room and the confusion in his head, Ben grabbed Alison and pulled her aside. Thomas and Hannah followed instinctively.

  “Alison, what are you doing?” asked Ben. “Why did you offer to be part of the raid? I don’t want to go blow up some Children’s Facility!”

  “Ben, why do you think I said that stuff?” said Alison. “Lorenz thinks it’s so he can prove to me that the world out there is as cruel as he says it is.” She leaned in and gathered the other three closer. “But as soon as we can, we’re going to make a break for it.”

  “Oh . . . we are?” asked Ben.

  “Cool,” said Thomas.

  “Yep,” said Alison. “We have to find the police, Ben. Whatever foster home we end up in is going to be a million times better than this. At least we’ll be safe.” Before Ben could tell Alison that she was delusional, he saw Cabra wandering over to them.

  Chapter Fifteen: A Stupid Souvenir

  Cabra bent over his cane and smiled. “Well, are ye enjoyin’ the celebration then, children?” Behind him, Mitty hopped up on the edge of the table and looked for someone to pet him. “Mitty! Have ye no manners? Ye just can’t jump up on the table like that!”

  “That’s okay,” said Hannah. She took Mitty in her arms and nuzzled his whiskers. “Mitty has strange eyes . . . they’re icy blue!”

  “Oh, yes, he’s an unusual cat, that’s for sure,” said Cabra. “I don’t know what I would do without him. We’ve spent so much time together sometimes I think I can actually hear him talking to me. Yes, we’ve seen a lot, haven’t we old Mitty? Lots of adventures, lots of adventures.” Cabra sighed and turned around to admire the riotous celebration behind him. Someone turned the music up and it boomed and rumbled like an earthquake.

  Oh yah now I’m bleathin

  Got ta feel it most when it’s leavin

  Dunno what it is you say you been feelin

  Cause now we got this new kinda seein.

  Now now now I’m bleathin.

  “So will you be coming tomorrow then?” Alison asked Cabra, who immediately laughed.

  “Me? Oh deary, no. No, I’m afraid me better years have passed . . . Now I help out in me other ways, as ye just seen here.”

  “Can you really see into the future?” asked Thomas.

  “See into the future?” cried Cabra. “No, of course not, Thomas. I’d wager that would be downright impossible. No, what I specialize in is taking notice of all the little details out there, of storing them away in the ol’ noggin, and puttin’ ‘em all together like some sort of big jigsaw puzzle. I guess ye could say the only thing I possess is a very keen awareness of the little things, that’s all. Some people call it magic, but me, no, it’s just one of the senses I was born with, I guess.”

  “And where exactly were you born?” asked Ben.

  “Well, I dunno, to tell you the truth. Never did know me parents. When I was a wee one, I was taken in by a bunch of travellin’ folks, gypsies some people call ‘em, and I spent most of me childhood years in the mountains in Spain. People say I used to just disserpear into the hills by meself. Dunno what I was lookin’ for, really, but it just felt more peaceful up there. The folks I was livin’ with took to calling me Cabra, which means goat, on account of me fondness for scramblin’ all over the hill and dale. And then,” he sighed while looking at the ground, “I spent a bunch of time in a monastery on an island off the Scottish coast with some folks who says they’re descendants of the Druids . . . guess you could say I was lookin’ for some sort of peace there, too. And that’s where I got a bit of an accent, of course, as well as learnin’ the various mystical and spiritual arts, meditation, chanting, and these sorts of things as you just seen.” He waved his hand vaguely behind him to refer to the séance he had just given.

  The music continued to thump, and the growling voices in the song echoed through the cavern like giant, snarling beasts. Everyone was sucking back on massive bottles of liquor, screaming in unison at the music. Cabra shook his head and turned back to the four Graham children.

  “Anyway, I realized that all along I had these powers in me. And then one day I jus’ up and decided to make me way across the Atlantic here. Guess that would be, oh, lessee, ‘bout ten years ago now. Was one of the only places of the world I hadn’t yet seen. Found some folks here who seemed to be in need of me services. Anything I can do to help them fight that tyrant Milagro. But now, well, I just feel as if there’s only so much time left.” He tipped his hat back on his head and looked around with sad, exhausted eyes. “For the first time in me life I can actually feel time going by. It’s like a soft wind that follows me around.”

  “Wow, I guess you’ve really seen the entire world then,” said Alison.

  “Yes, it’s true, I suppose I have seen a fair bit. And maybe it takes seein’ the entire world to make you realize that ye don’t actually have to go there to be there.”

  Ben hadn’t the faintest idea what he meant by this. “Sorry? I don’t quite understand that.”

  “Well, Ben, I guess some folks they spend their whole life searchin
’ for something that’s been inside ‘em all along. And it’s only after they’ve looked everywhere else that they start to look in the most obvious place of all. The solutions to our problems are always closer than we think, Ben. Everyone has somethin’, well, special that they carry around with ‘em. And ye gotta remember that. I want ye to think about what that might be for each of ye.”

  “Well, can you tell us where our mother is?” asked Hannah, still clutching Mitty in her arms.

  “Yer mother? No, I’m sorry, I can’t quite do that, miss,” said Cabra.

  “And why not?” demanded Thomas.

  “Well, for one, Thomas, I think you may have missed the point of what I just said. And for another, why I’ve never met or even seen yer mother, which makes it a bit beyond me earthly powers, I’m afraid.” Thomas looked frustrated at Cabra’s lack of tangible information. Cabra smiled though, and then cleared his throat. “Well, Mitty and I should be getting back to our watch up there on the streets,” he said as he motioned about vaguely with his stick. “Keepin’ an eye on things. Ye children take care now. Don’t go blowin’ yerselves up tomorrow. And try not to get shot. General Lorenz sure knows how to find trouble, he does. Come on, Mitty.” The two of them ambled their way through the throng of screaming, gyrating kids, and toward the eternally guarded steel door.

  The Graham children retreated to the bunk room by themselves, with the rest of the cavern still partying away. Alison quietly explained to Thomas and Hannah the plan for escape, how Alison would wait for the right moment when no one was looking. When Alison gave a sharp whistle, they would each scatter in separate directions, hide, and then meet up at the same place an hour later. It sounded so simple. Alison’s prim, orderly voice made it seem as if the universe would simply slow down at her bidding. But Ben wasn’t entirely sure that running away was the best thing to do. He couldn’t help but remember that distant morning when they had previously run for their lives. The silver men tearing through their apartment. Sprinting out of the building and into the hot noise of Los Angeles. How many weeks had it been? It was a world away, an ice age ago.