Water Keep

by J. Scott Savage

  Kyja wheeled the grocery cart across the sidewalk and up to the door. Lined side by side along the outside of the shop were several old bicycles. Kyja ran her fingers across the seat of a mountain bike and curiously spun one of the pedals with the tip of her foot. She read the buzzing red sign above the door. “All-American Pawn Shop and Jewelry. What’s a pawn shop?”

  “It’s a place where they buy and sell things. If we’re lucky, we might be able to get enough money for the bus tickets and more.” Marcus leaned over the edge of the cart and pulled open the front door. Instantly a cracked speaker began playing a loud and fuzzy rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” It made Kyja jump.

  Kyja pushed the cart into the shop, looking curiously around at the shelves of used items. Behind the counter, a bald man in a dingy, white shirt glared at the two of them as he rooted around in his ear with a long, dirty finger.

  “Can’t bring that in here.” He pulled his finger out of his ear, checked its tip for wax, and pointed at the grocery cart. The man’s fingernails looked like they hadn’t been trimmed in months, and cleaned even less recently.

  Marcus shifted uncomfortably in the wobbly metal cart and touched the leather pouch in his pants pocket. “We have something to sell,” he said.

  The man behind the counter took off his glasses—which were nearly as dirty as the shop windows—rubbed them on the untucked tail of his shirt, and hooked them back over his small, pink ears. As far as Marcus could tell, the rubbing had only managed to move the dirt around a little.

  Pushing the glasses up on his nose, the man frowned. “Look here, kids, we don’t buy comic books, action figures, or baseball cards so you might as well—”

  While the man was talking, Marcus reached into his pocket, took one of the gems from the bag, and set the gleaming red stone on the counter.

  For a second, the man’s watery, blue eyes went wide. But a moment later, they narrowed. “What do you take me for? You kids expect me to fall for that cereal box toy?”

  “No, it’s a real—” Marcus began.

  But Kyja stepped up to the counter and closed her fingers around the ruby. “We’ll take it somewhere else. It’s clear you’re too busy with all your other customers.” She studied the obviously empty store, dropped the gem in the pocket of her robe, and began to turn the cart around.

  “Hang on now,” the man said as Kyja started toward the door.

  Kyja glanced over her shoulder.

  The man licked his lips. “You trying to tell me that thing’s real? Where would a couple of kids like you get a stone worth—”

  Marcus turned in the cart, anxious to hear exactly what a ruby of that size would be worth, but the man quickly caught himself.

  “I guess I might be willing to take a look at it,” he said, holding out his dirty hand.

  As Kyja pulled the gem from her pocket, the man leaned over the counter. But just before giving it to him, she hesitated, looking around the store where nearly everything seemed to have a light coating of dust on it.

  “I don’t know,” she said, glancing toward Marcus. “Maybe we should take this somewhere else. Someplace a little cleaner?”

  Catching on to what she was up to, Marcus nodded. “You’re right.” He pointed to the large display of pistols and rifles beneath the glass countertop. “They seem to have plenty of guns and old power tools, but not so many gems. I bet a jewelry store would give us more for this.”

  “Now you wait just a minute,” the man said, running his hand across his bald head. “If that thing is real, I’ll pay top dollar. Those big jewelry stores are nothing but a bunch of con artists.”

  Kyja turned toward Marcus so the man couldn’t see the grin playing at the edge of her lips. Marcus, who had no idea Kyja was so good at this kind of thing, nodded almost unnoticeably.

  “All right,” Kyja said, the doubt clear in her voice. “I guess we could at least let you look at it. But I’m not even sure I want to sell it anymore.”

  As soon as she let the stone fall into the man’s hand, he closed his fingers around it with an audible sigh of relief. Turning it over in his fingers, he held it up to the store’s sputtering florescent lights. “Didn’t steal this, did you?” he asked with a sly grin.

  “Of course not,” Marcus said. “It was given to me by an old . . . family friend.”

  “Uh-huh,” the man grunted, clearly not believing a word of it. “Because if this is stolen, the police are going to be looking for you two.”

  “We told you. It’s not stolen,” Kyja said with clear indignation. “If you don’t believe us we can take it somewhere else.”

  “We’ll see about that,” the man said. From a drawer behind the counter, he took out a small, black jeweler’s loupe. Setting his glasses aside, he tucked the lens up to his eye and studied the gem.

  “Oh,” the man whispered under his breath. The tip of his tongue slipped out from between his wet lips as he turned the gem first one way, then another.

  The stone looks like a real ruby; but is it? Marcus wondered. On the way to the pawn shop, he’d considered the fact that some things stayed the same when they went from one world to another, while others clearly did not. His money, their clothes, the picture of Elder Ephraim, all appeared identical on both Farworld and Earth. But Riph Raph and the stones had changed dramatically. Was it because skytes and the stones didn’t exist on Earth? Or was it because they were organic while the other items were man-made? Marcus didn’t know, but if Riph Raph could turn into a chameleon, who was to say what the red stones really were?

  “Well?” Marcus asked, unable to stop himself.

  Laying the loupe on the countertop, the man pinched his lower lip and shook his head. “Sorry kids. Your old ‘family friend’ wasn’t such a good friend after all. It’s a fake. Nothing more than colored glass.”

  Marcus felt the air swoosh out of him like a blown bike tire. A fake. Now how were they going to buy bus tickets? Or food, for that matter? He only had a few dollars left of the money he’d taken from his suitcase—not even enough to buy them another full meal.

  “You’re lying,” Kyja said.

  Marcus looked at her in shock as she stomped up to the counter and leaned across it until she and the shop owner were only a few inches apart.

  “You’re lying. That gem’s not a fake. You just want to steal it.”

  Clearly, the man was as surprised as Marcus. His eyes widened, and in that second, Marcus realized Kyja was right. What he saw in the brief moment of clarity was not anger or disbelief, but guilt.

  “I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the owner said, his face pale.

  “Give us back our gem.” Kyja said, holding out her hand. “We’ll find someone honest. Someone who doesn’t try to cheat little kids.”

  Brick-red spots rose in the center of each of the man’s cheeks, spreading up toward his temples as he closed his fist around the stone. “How dare you accuse me of lying? It’s you two who are the thieves. I don’t know what you’re up to, coming in here with those strange-looking costumes, riding around in a grocery cart, and trying to pass off fake gems. But I’ll bet the police would like to talk to your parents.”

  Police? Marcus’s stomach cramped at the thought of the police getting involved. They’d take him back to the boys school. And who knew what would happen to Kyja and Riph Raph? “Look, just give us the stone, and we’ll go,” he said. “If it really is a fake like you say, it shouldn’t matter to you.”

  The man shook his head, a dark smile spreading across his face. “Don’t want to get the police involved, do you? I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I just keep this, and maybe I’ll give the two of you a five minute’s head start before I call the cops.”

  At this point, that actually sounded pretty good to Marcus. It had been a bad plan from the beginning. He should have realized no one would ever seriously consider buying a valuable gem from a couple of kids.

  But Kyja was staring at the man, her eyes drilling into
him as if she could see right through his skin and into his soul.

  “We’re not the first people you’ve cheated, are we?” She looked slowly around from the man behind the counter to the items spread throughout his store. “How many of these things did you get by telling lies? And you don’t even care if they’re stolen. That just means you can make more money.”

  The man’s eyes darted from Marcus to Kyja as if trying to understand what he was up against. His tongue inched out from between his lips again as he fingered the stone.

  “Go ahead,” Kyja said. “Call whomever you want. We’ll wait. By the time we finish telling them how you tried to steal our gem, they’ll close your shop down, like they should have a long time ago.”

  Now it was the man’s turn to worry. “Look,” he said, “maybe I was too quick. It is a pretty good fake. I could probably give you something for it.” Stabbing a button on his cash register with one finger, he opened the drawer and took out two twenties. He laid them side by side on the counter, and, after another glance toward Kyja’s stern gaze, added a third.

  “There you go,” he said, with an unnaturally large grin. “Sixty bucks. Just think how much candy you can buy with that.”

  Kyja looked to Marcus, clearly not understanding the currency of this world. Marcus shook his head. “That gem’s probably worth thousands.”

  “Thousands?” The man choked back a cough. “Look, kids. I may not have been straight up with you before. But I’m being completely honest when I say I can’t sell this for any more than a hundred.” He added two more twenties from the cash register, peered toward Kyja—clearly unnerved by the way she seemed to be looking right through him—and added a crisp fifty-dollar bill. “Hundred and fifty, tops. And believe me. I’m losing money on this deal.”

  Marcus was reaching for the cash when Kyja placed her hand of top of his. “You stay here and keep on eye on him. I’m going outside to get the . . . cops.” She said it in a tone so serious Marcus could barely believe it was her.

  If he hadn’t been afraid of blowing Kyja’s plan, Marcus would have burst into laughter at the way the pawn shop owner’s face went instantly white. Every ounce of blood seemed to drain from his cheeks until he looked as if someone had given him a thorough dusting with flour.

  “How . . . how much do you want?” he stammered.

  Kyja checked with Marcus, who calculated inside his head. “Five hundred dollars,” he blurted. He wasn’t sure if it was too much or too little, but from the way the man behind the counter quickly counted out the bills, Marcus suspected he would still make a nice profit when he sold the stone.

  As the man shoved the money across the counter, Kyja placed the tip of one finger on top of his hand—as though she couldn’t stand the thought of actually having any closer contact with him. “Don’t think this gets you off the hook. If you ever cheat anyone again, I’ll come back. And I’ll bring the cops with me next time.”

  Just then, Riph Raph popped out from Kyja’s pocket, where he’d been curled up napping after his big meal. Turning one eye toward Kyja and one toward Marcus, he shot out his tongue and grabbed a fly that had been walking slowly across the counter.

  “Yum,” he said. Then, looking toward the pawn shop owner, he asked, “Who’s that?”

  The man screamed.

  Chapter 42

  The Magic Box

  I’m sorry,” said the woman behind the ticket counter, “but children must be accompanied by an adult.”

  She looked down suspiciously at Marcus, Kyja, and their grocery cart. “Where are your parents?”

  “I’m, um, not sure,” Marcus said. He wasn’t lying, since he was pretty sure his parents were dead. But he thought it was better to leave before the woman asked any more questions.

  “What are we going to do now?” Kyja asked as they crossed the crowded bus terminal.

  “I don’t know,” he said with a frown. “But get me out of this thing.”

  As Kyja helped him from the cart, Marcus noticed a man in a dark suit watching them. When the man realized Marcus was looking at him, he quickly turned away.

  “Marcus?” Kyja asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Huh?” Marcus turned to Kyja, then back across the room. The man was gone. Marcus searched the terminal without seeing him anywhere. At least it wasn’t anyone I know, he thought, wondering if Bonesplinter was still on Earth.

  “Nothing,” he said, climbing onto a plastic chair. “I’m just trying to think.”

  Kyja sat in the chair next to him. “What’s this?” she asked, pointing to the small, blank television bolted to the side of the plastic seat.

  Marcus fished a pair of quarters out of his pocket. He couldn’t bring Kyja all the way to Earth without letting her see at least one TV show. He dropped the quarters into the slot on the side of the TV, and Kyja jerked back in her chair as a tiny, soap-opera man and woman appeared on the screen.

  She put a hand forward and cautiously touched the front of the television, as though expecting to reach through the screen and pick up the people inside.

  Marcus changed the channel and two cowboys rode across the TV on horseback.

  “This must be magic,” Kyja whispered, fascinated.

  “Nope. Just another machine.”

  “Can I?” she asked, pointing to the buttons that changed the channel.

  “Sure. Go ahead,” Marcus said, wondering if Kyja had been as amused by his reaction to Farworld as he was by her surprise at such ordinary things as milkshakes and televisions.

  Kyja changed the channel to a sports program that showed a pair of boxers punching each other inside a ring. Frowning, she changed the channel again, this time to a cartoon showing a crab and an octopus arguing over a pair of pants.

  “That’s SpongeBob,” said a little boy sitting in the next chair over. He leaned across his seat and pointed to the figures on the screen. “Them are Mr. Crabs and Squidward.”

  “Would you like to watch too?” Kyja asked, turning the screen so the little boy could see it better.

  “Yeah. It’s my favorite show.”

  As the boy leaned across his seat to view the television, Marcus saw that the boy’s right arm was in a sling, and there was a bump on his forehead. The boy’s mother watched him closely. For a minute she seemed on the verge of pulling him back before deciding he was all right.

  “What happened to you?” Marcus asked. “Fall off your bike?”

  The boy glanced toward his mother, who gave him a sharp look. As she did, Marcus noticed the woman had a black eye and a puffy lip.

  “Nah,” the boy said, shaking his head. “I just got hurt. That’s all.”

  The woman studied Marcus and Kyja for a moment before apparently deciding they were harmless and going back to her magazine. But Marcus noticed the way she kept looking up from her reading every few minutes and glancing nervously around the bus station.

  “What happened to you?” the boy asked Marcus. “Why’s your arm and leg like that?”

  “I fell off my bike,” Marcus said with mock seriousness.

  “Really?” the boy asked, his bright blue eyes wide with amazement.

  “No.” Marcus laughed. “I’m just kidding. I got hurt when I was a baby.”

  The boy’s eyes, which had glowed with wonder a moment before, now took on a knowing expression far too old for his young face.

  Before Marcus could say anything else, Kyja leaned over to the little boy and placed one hand on top of his head. “Your father hurt you, didn’t he?”

  At once the woman looked up from her magazine and grabbed the boy’s good arm as if to pull him away.

  “It’s okay,” Kyja said, gently placing her hand over the woman’s. “You’re running away from your husband because he hurt you and your son. Don’t worry—we won’t tell anyone.”

  “How do you know that?” the woman asked. Marcus saw the fear clearly printed on the woman’s face. She had the look of a rabbit, ready to flee at the first sign of danger. He
was sure she would run, and yet something in Kyja’s eyes seemed to hold her.

  “We’re running too,” Kyja said. “From some very bad people. We’re trying to reach someone who can help us.”

  For a moment the women said nothing, as though making up her mind about what to do. Then she nodded, her puffy lips pressed together. “Where are you going?”

  “We need to get to the other side of the mountains,” Kyja said. “We have the money to buy tickets, but we need an adult to buy them.”

  “Where are your parents?” the woman asked, still looking unsure of whether she could trust the two of them.

  Marcus expected Kyja to make up a story. After all, who would believe the truth? But Kyja continued to stare into the woman’s eyes and simply said. “I don’t know. We don’t even know who our parents are.”

  At last the woman seemed to relax. “My name’s Kathleen, and this is Jerrick. He and I are going to Des Moines. You could go with us as far as that if you’d like.”

  Jerrick looked up into Kyja’s face. “You gonna come with us?”

  Kyja nodded. “I’d like that.”

  Chapter 43

  Discovered

  Kyja looked down at Jerrick as he lay sleeping on her lap, a green and red stone clutched in each of his fists. Marcus was sleeping in the next seat over. Peanut butter, cracker crumbs, and bits of cheese were smeared across his face from the snack the four of them had shared earlier.

  He seemed to have recovered from the effects of Farworld, but Kyja was starting to feel the same queasy stomach Marcus had described, and her head pounded with a dull ache. She guessed Marcus was right about her being trapped between worlds and wondered where she could find some of the cures he’d told her about.

  “He seems like a good boy,” Kyja said, brushing Jerrick’s dark hair.

  Jerrick’s mother nodded. “He is. I just wish I could do better for him. Nobody deserves to be treated like that. Especially not a child.”

  “You’re taking him away from the person who hurt him,” Kyja said. “That’s a good start.”

  Kathleen’s lips trembled as she brushed her eyes with the palm of her hand. She glanced out the darkened window of the bus at the miles of snow-covered ground. “I just wish I knew I was doing right by him. My sister’s not exactly thrilled about us coming to live with her. She’s got four kids of her own.”