The Key

by Mark Wesley

  “There,” he said as he placed Jane and himself well within a gathered crowd awaiting the trolley. “I think we lost them.”

  “OK. I trusted you. Now Timothy, what is happening?” she fervently insisted.

  The closet door in the room swung open in a fury; Grackle, Tike, and the two other angry and disheveled men stepped out with malicious motives.

  “Which way?” Grackle asked.

  “Whaz the big idea?” the portly man interrupted as he stood at his front door, ready to close and lock it. “This is a private residence here.”

  “I bet they went that way,” Tike answered, noting the open exit.

  Ignoring the stocky gentleman, the pirates shoved him aside as they made their way into the hall.

  “Hey, yous guys,” the man called, attempting to get their attention.

  The three pirates peered over towards the occupant with snarling, displeased looks. The Anchor flexed back his lips to show his teeth as though he were a dog growling.

  “Never mind,” the man replied hastily as he closed and locked his door.

  “I don’t see ’em, Grackle,” Tike offered, searching the empty hall.

  “OK. Get out the monocle.”

  “It ain’t got much juice left, Grackle.”

  “How much?”

  “Not much.”

  “Is it enough?”

  “Can’t say, Grackle—maybe.”

  “You’re supposed to know these things,” Grackle countered in a less than friendly tone. “I don’t have much use for maybes and neither does she.”

  “Well. I think it has enough.”

  “You think?”

  “I mean . . . it will work just fine. I can always revive it when we get back.”

  Tike reached his bony fingers into a pouch hung around his waist and pulled out the wire-framed monocle. Putting it over one eye, he looked around, squinting and snarling as he did.

  The eyepiece offered no magnification—through it nothing was altered. Nothing except for a thin, faint line that floated through the air, glowing ever more dimly. The line traced the path left by the key, the same path Timothy had run.

  “It’s fading fast, Grackle, but I can see it.”

  “Which way?”

  “They went that way,” Tike said, pointing down the stairs.

  “Let’s go,” Grackle demanded, shoving Tike in the direction he was pointing.

  The pirates’ feet clunked and slammed down with each step as they made haste to reach their prey.

  “Who are those men?” Jane questioned as the two tried to regain their faculties.

  “Like I said,” the boy answered honestly, trying to catch his breath. “They’re pirates.”

  “Yeah, that’s what you said. What do you mean by pirates?”

  “I mean pirates. . . .”

  “That’s what—some kind of stupid joke?”

  “No. Really,” Timothy insisted in earnest. “Bad guys that sail around on wooden boats plundering and have buried treasure. . . .”

  “Timothy,” Jane responded with equal seriousness. “Pirates like that don’t exist. At least not anymore.”

  “You saw them with your own eyes.”

  “Yeah. But—”

  “No but,” he interrupted. “The truth is they are pirates.”

  “OK,” Jane offered, taking in a breath. “Let’s assume for a minute they are pirates. What are they doing chasing us?”

  “They’re after this key.”

  “Why would they want that key?”

  “It’s—magical.”

  “Magic,” Jane questioned with skepticism. “Pirates . . . magic key? That makes no sense.”

  “I know. It’s all impossible to believe, but look around. Look where we are. This key is magical.”

  Jane shook her head in defiance, not wanting to accept what Timothy was saying. “No, no, no . . . this cannot be really happening.”

  “Jane. It’s real. Look around. We’ve traveled in time, to the past—through my closet door. Just look.”

  Jane paused for a moment and began to take in what was happening. A stare of profound disbelief and confusion enveloped her eyes as if she were gazing at an optical illusion.

  Timothy continued, “Look at the cars. Look at people’s clothes. Doesn’t this look like a movie from the fifties or something?”

  “It can’t be real.”

  “It’s real, Jane.”

  She looked around again. “It is real,” she muttered to herself as the realization of what was happening became clear.

  “Trust me. It’s real.”

  “But . . . how?”

  “Like I said. It’s this key.”

  “So, this key does this? Brings you here—to the past?”

  “Sort of. Not always here here. All I know right now is that it takes you somewhere very different than home.”

  “How did you get it?”

  “It was a present.”

  “A present?”

  “Yes. From my grandfather.”

  “And these pirates that are chasing us want it?”

  “Yes.”

  Seeing an obvious solution, Jane told Timothy, “Then give it to them and let’s go home.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “First . . . I doubt they’d just take the key and let us go. And . . . I made a promise.”

  “A promise? What promise?”

  “A promise to my grandfather.”

  “You promised your granddad that you’d keep this magic key from pirates?”

  “It’s hard to explain, but . . . ,” Timothy knew it would sound silly—the emotions he was feeling and what Jacob had told him. “Look, Jane. I am so sorry I got you into this, and I promise I’ll get you back home, but I can’t give them this key.”

  “I don’t buy that, Timothy.”

  “Please, just trust me. We’ll be fine,” Timothy explained, hiding the unsure feeling he felt.

  “I’ve been trusting you this whole time. I am not sure how much more I can take.”

  “I just need you trust me a little longer, until we get home.”

  “Fine . . . then let’s go home.”

  “We will. There’s just a little problem.”

  “What problem?”

  “Well, we’ll have to go back through that closet door.”

  “What closet door?”

  “The one we came through.”

  “What—the one with that guy?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you think that guy is going to let us into his house?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I do. He won’t.”

  “That’s our way home. Through that closet.”

  “So, the plan is to get into this guy’s house and go into his closet.”

  “Yes. And then . . . ,” his voice drifted off.

  “Then what?” Jane prompted, suddenly noticing Timothy’s attention was diverted. “What? What is it?” she asked as she followed his stare through the crowd.

  “I think they caught up to us,” he observed.

  The pirates lurked out around the street corner and stood opposite their location, scanning about like bloodhounds after a fox.

  “Come on,” Timothy said as he guided Jane slowly, trying to remain blended in with all the other pedestrians. “In here.”

  The two cautiously pushed through a set of double glass doors and stepped into a crowded hotel. Inside, people of all shapes and sizes filled the lobby that was elegantly decorated with glass chandeliers, marble floors, and embellished with rich oak trim. Whether carrying luggage, standing at the service desk, sitting on the leather sofas, or drinking cocktails, the inhabitants seemed occupied and not concerned o
ver a couple of adolescents wearing strange clothes.

  Looking through his monocle, Tike saw the faint path that traveled across the street and into the hotel. “In there—that building,” he told the others.

  Peering across the busy street, seeing through the hustle and bustle of impatiently hurrying people, Grackle looked into the hotel’s front windows. There, frozen like two deer in headlights looking back out at them, stood Timothy and Jane.

  “I see ‘em,” Grackle snarled as he stepped out into the busy street without hesitation or consideration for his safety. “You go that way,” he added, motioning to one of the pirates to go around the side. “Don’t let ’em escape out the back. You two follow me”

  “They saw us,” Timothy exclaimed, stepping back from the window.

  “How’d they find us?” Jane questioned in disbelief.

  “I think they have a way to see the key.”

  “How?”

  “I am not sure. Some kind of magic.”

  “Then how do you hide it?”

  “If I’m wearing it, they’re can’t see it.”

  “But you are wearing it,” she said, pointing to the key about his neck.

  “Yeah, but I used it. I had to use it to get us out of my room, so now they can see it.”

  “Then what’s the point of running? What are we supposed to do?”

  “I am not sure,” Timothy murmured under his breath.

  “It sounds like you don’t know anything,” Jane offered, her anger taking charge. “We need help!”

  “Yes,” Timothy answered as he thought about the gnome, Jacob.

  “What about him?” Jane offered, pointing towards a formally dressed worker.

  By the main entrance, standing erect and at attention, the man in uniform offered a polite nod to each patron who entered or exited the establishment.

  “He looks like he can help,” she added.

  “Who? Him? I think he’s just the doorman,” Timothy tried, but Jane had already started toward the man.

  “Sir, we need your help,” Jane pleaded. “Men are chasing us; they want to hurt us.”

  “What are you talking about?” the man questioned gently, taking Jane by the shoulder.

  “Some men are chasing us and want to hurt us.”

  “OK. Just calm down a little. My name is Jim. What is your name?”

  “There! Look! Here they come,” Jane said, pointing at the pirates who were now engaged in a steady, heart-pounding march towards the two.

  The doorman looked over and saw the men in their tattered and dirty clothes.

  “Can I help you, gentlemen?” he asked sternly, blocking the pirates’ path.

  “You can get out of our way,” Tike said, trying to sidestep the man and grab Timothy.

  The man in uniform reached out and seized Tike’s bony arm, stopping his pursuit.

  “We have a dress code here at the Knickerbocker, and I’m afraid I am going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave.”

  “What seems to be the problem?” a second doorman asked as he arrived to provide aid.

  “I just asked these gentlemen to exit the premises.”

  Without hesitation or remorse, Grackle reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an iridescent emerald pendant decorated in sparkling rubies. Swinging the pendant’s needle outward with this thumb, Grackle thrust the glistening tip into the first gentleman’s shoulder. Suddenly, the doorman’s body became cold and as clammy as a dead fish; the man’s eyes affixed as his gaze began to roll upward and his mouth opened widely. A soft, ghostly exhale released from the man’s mouth, discharging his last thoughts.

  Reaching out with a rapid and firm grip, the other doorman grabbed Grackle’s hand and a struggle ensued.

  “He’s stuck now,” Tike chuckled wildly. “He won’t be waking up for some time.”

  As the body stood as stiff as a statue, the skirmish that ensued over the pendant caused alarm among the crowd. Patrons who had moved in, looking to provide assistance, only elevated the battle. Soon, the three pirates found themselves surrounded in a flurry of commotion, struggling to break free.

  With the front entrance blocked, Timothy took Jane and headed towards the back of the lobby. Moving through several doors and rooms, the two found themselves in the courtyard.

  “There’s one,” Jane exclaimed, pointing towards the man.

  There on the other side of the courtyard, a pirate snarled as he headed their way. Quickly, the two turned and rushed back into the lobby, seeing the kerfuffle that still ensued.

  “Which way?” Jane desperately asked.

  The elevator, Timothy thought, hearing the ding and seeing the doors open as guests stepped out. “There,” he answered, motioning in the elevator’s direction.

  Following Timothy, she pushed aside several guests and hopped into the machine with him. As they waited for the doors to close, the lone pirate came barreling towards them.

  “Hurry up!” they both anxiously urged the elevator. Just before the pirate could reach them, the doors slid shut.

  “That was close,” Timothy said as the elevator began its ascent.

  Jane looked over at him, paused for a moment and then answered, “Yeah. But where to now?”

  “What was that about, boy?” a passenger asked.

  Timothy looked at the guest who occupied the crowded elevator, unable to answer the question other than to respond, “Nothing.”

  The passenger accepted the answer with a shrug and went back to his quiet stare.

  As the elevator reached its first destination, Jane and Timothy stepped out into the hallway. “Let’s find a way out of here,” Timothy suggested.

  “Wait!” Jane said, taking a moment to reach in and push all the buttons on the elevator.

  “Hey!” the other passengers shouted at her seemingly mischievous and childish action.

  “Sorry.”

  “Good thinking. That might give us a little more time,” Timothy complimented.

  The two ran down the hall, passing doors to rooms and looking desperately for a way out. Reaching the end of hall, the two found that the only exit was down the stairs.

  “This will lead us back down,” Timothy offered.

  “Yeah. To the lobby.”

  “You have any better ideas?”

  “I guess not.”

  Pushing open the door, they both stopped abruptly. The lone pirate from the courtyard was making his way up the stairs towards them.

  “I see you, Hornigold,” the man shouted.

  Closing the door, Jane offered, “The elevator.”

  “No. You pushed all the buttons.”

  “Then we’re trapped.”

  “No. We have one way,” Timothy suggested, removing the key from around his neck. Looking at the door next to him there at the end of the hall, he knew his only option. “This is our only way out.”

  Timothy turned the key and pushed open the door. He stood erect like the mast of a ship and stared into the black abyss.

  “What are we waiting for?” Jane asked, now more aware of the situation and what needed to be done.

  “I am worried,” he answered as he turned his head toward her. “You’re not?”

  “Of course I am worried. But, like you said—this is our only way out.”

  With a nod of agreement, Timothy stepped into the dark abyss, pulling Jane along with him.

  Coming out on the other side of the void, the two found themselves in what appeared to be an abandoned building. All the interior walls and windows had been knocked out, leaving only a lone door which stood deserted in the middle of the room; the one they’d just come through. Red brick covered over with a glaze of stucco made up the exterior, while solid wood floors held in place by solid wood beams lay underfoot.

  “What now?” Jane
asked scanning the area and seeing nowhere to run.

  “I don’t know,” Timothy answered. He was equally puzzled.

  “Where are we?”

  “Looks like some kind of old, abandoned building.”

  “What about stairs?”

  “Of course,” the boy replied, looking about. “Where are they?”

  The two ran about, clomping through the dust-covered floor to find a stairway that was a mangled mess of metal and broken wood.

  “We’re not going to use those,” Jane explained.

  As the two examined their new surroundings, several loud whistles rang out in quick succession, as if marking the start of some enterprise.

  “What’s that?” she asked anxiously.

  “I don’t know . . . I’ll have a look.”

  Running to a window, Timothy gazed out to see the ground below and the impending danger that quickly approached. “Get down!” he shouted back towards Jane.

  A loud noise erupted as the building shook like a tree in a storm. The tremor was so intense it sent both of them falling to the floor.

  “What happened?” Jane asked. Dizzy, she lay on the floor with her head raised.

  “They’re tearing it down.”

  “The building?”

  “Yes. They’re tearing down the building.”

  A crew of busily working men toiled about a construction site below as an operator, sitting inside a massive wrecking machine, pulled at levers, sending large billows of smoke up into the air. As hydraulics about the machine hissed and contracted, the massive iron ball, no longer stuck into the side of the building, swung along a new path.

  “Hey!” Timothy yelled, trying to gain the men’s attention. “We’re up here!” He waved one hand through the hole to no avail.

  The grinding of gears, squeaking of hydraulics, and humming of poorly-tuned engines drowned out the boy’s attempts to be heard. While the din of noise cloaked Timothy’s cries, his visual signal was equally frivolous. Each man was set about a particular task and not intent on peering upwards towards the top floor.