by Adam Oster
I walk further down the aisle toward a collection of unique timepieces and find myself immediately drawn to a spherical piece that is lying on its side. The exterior of the sphere has a small oval on the front with an image of an old man with a child on his back. The exterior of the oval says the words, “St. Christopher Protect Us”. There is a purple price sticker on it, but nothing printed to say how much it’s worth.
I pick the sphere up and find that it’s actually a pendant, complete with bronze chain to put around my neck. On the top of the sphere, where the chain attaches, I notice a button, which I press, to find that the sphere pops open, into two halves held together by a simple hinge. On the inside is a complicated clock face. Actually, looking at it closer, it’s not just a clock face, it also seems to be a compass. It seems like the clock and the compass have been combined into one measurement device. Or, maybe it’s just broken. The bottom of the device has another ring around the outside which spins easily.
I become so involved in trying to decipher the purpose of this interesting time piece that I’m startled back to reality by a hand on my shoulder.
“Sweetheart. Please don’t touch the merchandise!” the now-sweating bald man says from behind me, sounding like he’s already said the same thing several times.
I turn slowly to look at him, momentarily forgetting the entire reason I’m here. “Oh,” I say once reality finally returns. “I’m sorry.” I replace the sphere to the shelf. “That’s a really nice piece.”
“Yeah?” he says, disinterested. “Sure, whatever. Look, honey, about that book.”
“Yeah?”
“So, I did a little bit of hunting online and it looks like you’re right, it is a rare find.”
“Awesome,” I smile. “How much is it worth?”
“Well, because I’m feeling extra generous, I’m going to go ahead and offer you a hundred bucks for it. It won’t be easy to get that much off the thing, but I’m sure—“
“Oh,” I say, my gaze going to the floor. “Well, thanks for looking into it, but I’m not interested. You see, my mom died in the same car accident that took my grandma, and, well—“
“I didn’t know,” the man frowns. “Okay, well, you strike a hard bargain, but like I said, I’m feeling generous, and if it’s going to a good cause or whatever, I can probably stand to lose a few bucks on the deal. How about two hundred?”
“I don’t know,” I say, my eyes focused on a gap between two of the floorboards beneath me. “You see, it’s just that it was my grandma’s favorite book and—“
“Three hundred?”
“I can’t do that to you, mister. I mean, you said it was only worth—“
“Look kid, you liked that round thing back there, right?”
“It looked kinda cool, sure,” I shrug.
“Howabout I throw that in as well.”
“Three hundred bucks and a watch?” I ask.
“Is it a deal?” he asks, holding his hand out in front of him.
I hesitate, knowing I’m already getting over 50 times what I spent on the thing in the first place and really don’t want to push the deal, even though I can tell he’s got a lot further he’s willing to go. The chiming of bells sounds from the door again and the man quickly says, “Four hundred and the watch, final offer.”
“Deal.” I reach out for the man’s hand and shake his sweaty palm.
I grab the time piece before he walks me back to the counter. His eyes glare at the door looking for whoever might have just entered. He and I both notice there’s no one new in the store. Of course, he expects it to be Griff returning. If I had to guess, Griff had some homeless person shake the door a bit to get the mark to up the ante. I hear the sucker grumble as he slides behind the counter.
“Alright,” he says with a forced smile. “Three hundred dollars,” he says to himself before opening the cash register. He begins fishing within.
“Actually,” I disagree, “I believe we agreed on four hundred and the watch.”
“Oh, right,” he grumbles again, “four hundred.”
“And the watch,” I add. I slide the chain over my head to wear the piece out.
“Right. Three eighty, Three ninety, four hundred,” he says and plops a random assortment of bills on the counter. I’m surprised he has this much money in the register. I was expecting to have to fight him off cutting a check.
I pick up the money, count it quickly, and shoot the sucker one last look before I say, “Nice doing business with you.”
“Yeah,” the man says. He picks up the book and places it within a compartment under the counter. “Same to you.”
Chapter 5
I walk out the door and actually find myself feeling a little disappointed that I just lost my copy of The Confidence Man. I spent a lot of time getting that thing printed and never actually found the time to read it. Of course, the thick wad of cash in my hand brings my spirits right back up. My first swindle was a total success!
Griff is about half a block up the street, leaning against a wall, and staring off into the distance. I skip toward him cheerfully.
“How’d you make out, kid?” he shouts.
“Jeez,” I shush him, “isn’t it bad form to celebrate so close to a mark like that?”
“Ah, whatever. That guy’s a total douche anyways. What’d you pull?”
“Four hundred,” I answer.
“Really? That’s it? The guy got me up to offering him ten grand for the damned thing before I said I had to grab the money. You got scammed, kid.”
“Right,” I laugh. “Should probably report him to the BBB, huh?”
“By the way, nice touch using The Confidence Man as your ‘fiddle’. Showed some balls.”
“I thought you’d like it. Oh, and really good work with the door and making him think you were on your way back in.”
“Oh, that wasn’t me. Some Mormon holding a slice of pizza was about to go in. I think the cat might have scared him off.”
“Nice,” I laugh.
“What you got there?” Griff asks, noticing me absentmindedly toying with my new jewelry.
“A little trinket I managed to get thrown into the pot.”
“You have learned something,” he beams. “Thought you’d forget to make sure to get something else tossed in with the payout. Looks pretty nice. What’s the tag got it for?”
“Nothing on the tag. The guy didn’t seem like he knew it even existed.”
“Oh,” Griff’s grin fades. “I guess I congratulated you too early.”
“I don’t know,” I smile, looking up into his eyes. “I think it’s pretty.”
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure.” I press the button on top, causing it to flip open. “It kinda looks like a watch with a compass attached, but it seems like the hands are swapped or something.”
“What do you mean?” Griff starts walking down the block away from me.
I follow. “Well, there’s only one hand on the watch face, and it seems to move whenever I turn it. The compass face has a big hole in it, but it seems to turn whenever I move the ring on the bottom here.” I rotate the ring to show him.
“Weird.” He stops in his tracks and reaches for the device. “Maybe the faces got put in the wrong place when someone was restoring it or something. And if the clock hands are missing, we should be able to replace them without any trouble.”
“Yeah, that’s kinda what I thought, but it still seems weird that—“
“Oh, I see.” He makes something click on the sphere in his hands. “The clock was supposed to be placed in the center of the compass face, like this,” the device clicks again.
Suddenly the wind picks up around us, whipping a plastic bag from the street in a circle around my head.
“Whoa,” Griff says, his attention turned away from the timepiece now. “Freak wind today, huh?” he laughs.
The wind grows stronger, pulling in more debris from the surrounding area. I feel the chain pull agai
nst my neck. The storm grows wilder. I grasp the locket strongly and pull it against my chest. Three blue garbage bags begin spinning around us rapidly.
“I don’t think this is normal, Griff,” I say in trepidation.
“Umm,” Griff says with his mouth open in awe. “No, I don’t think it is.”
I look up to see what has his attention and find a thin cyclone has appeared directly above us, reaching high into the other-wise clear sky. The wind grows stronger and I feel myself being pulled toward the center of it.
“Griff,” I cry out. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know, kid.” He grabs my hands. “But I think you might want to hold on!”
I feel my feet pulled from the ground.
Chapter 6
The air around us is completely black for approximately eight seconds. Those eight seconds feel like an eternity. An eternity in which there is no sensation, no light, no sound, nothing. Finally, a blinding flash of light shines and gravity takes hold once again. I land on my butt roughly and my head falls to the ground.
I hear Griff groaning beside me. “What the hell was that?” he asks gruffly.
I sit up quietly, rubbing the spot in the middle of my back where I must have landed on something sharp. I look down to the ground to see what might have cushioned my fall and find a large rock.
That’s when I notice we’re not on the sidewalk situated on the corner of 13th and A anymore. Instead, we’re lying in the dirt next to a well-worn path surrounded by trees and overgrown grass. The trees are like nothing I’ve ever seen before, stretching high up into the sky and completely cutting off any view of the sun, clouds, or whatever else might be up there. The light is filtered through the leaves and makes everything take on a green hue. The only other items of civilization around us are four garbage bags, a bicycle, and a few other pieces of random street trash.
“Holy crap, kid,” Griff shouts in surprise. “Did we just get blown over to Central Park?”
“I don’t know,” I say in confusion. “That’s got to be like three miles from here or, you know, there. Do you think that’s even possible?”
“Until today I didn’t think it was possible for a freak storm to pick a couple people up and drop them off like some crazy form of public transportation. If that can happen, I don’t know why it couldn’t take us to the park. Could be worse. Could have ended up in the middle of a skyscraper.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, pulling myself to my feet. “What part of Central Park is this?”
“Do I look like a tour guide to you?”
“I’m just saying, aren’t most of the paths in it paved?”
“I don’t know, kid. This doesn’t even look like a real path. It just looks like it’s here because a bunch of mooks have been riding their cars across it or something. Maybe it’s part of that nature sanctuary or whatever.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I agree. “Any clue which direction will get us out of here?”
“I don’t know, kid. Doesn’t your phone have an app for that or something?”
“Good call.” I pull my phone out of my back pocket. Pressing the button on the side to light the screen up, I immediately get a message stating, ‘Phone not registered on network’. “No good.” I replace my phone. “Looks like these trees are cutting off my reception. Any other bright ideas?”
“It’s Central Park, kid. Just pick a direction. Sooner or later you’ll find your way out.”
“Maybe we could use the compass on my new necklace?” I reply. I pull out the time piece and open it. The clock seems to have stopped ticking and, even more concerning to me is that the compass is no longer spinning.
“Musta busted it when we landed,” Griff says, looking over my shoulder.
“You’re probably right. I suppose left is as good a choice as any.” I start down the path away from Griff. He joins me and we make our way along the forested path.
“Kinda pretty out here,” Griff says looking up to the trees above him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been far enough into the park to not be able to see any of the skyscrapers.”
“I didn’t know we had trees around here that were tall enough to block them out. I mean, look at these things, they’re almost skyscrapers themselves. They’ve got to be ancient. But you know what’s even weirder than that?”
“I could list a ton of things,” Griff chuckles.
“Sure, but have you noticed how quiet it is? I mean, no cars, no people, no horns honking. Heck, there’s not even the sound of any animals around here.”
“Well, with a storm like that,” Griff replies, “it’s not that surprising that the critters would have scampered off.”
“You’re right,” I answer. “But it’s still weird that there’s no sound coming from the city though.”
“I’ve got you beat on weird, kiddo,” Griff frowns. “How long have you ever been standing around Central Park during the day and not seen at least one person fly past on a bike or something?”
“That is weird,” I agree. “I thought I had heard something when we first arrived, like horses or something. Maybe you were right and we’re in the sanctuary. That’s where the mounted police keep their rides, right? And I’m pretty sure they don’t let just anyone hang out in here normally.”
“That could be it, kid.”
I can’t help but still be amazed by the foliage around us. The green light brightening our path gives this place an almost other-worldly feel to it. And even more than that, I can’t get over the size of these trees. How could these enormous things be right here in the middle of the city I’ve been living in for the past month and not be something I’m at all aware of? I mean, these things are dense too. Once you get off the path, the rest of this forest looks almost like its night time. It’s admittedly a little creepy to look in there.
The trees give way to a large clearing, with bricked walls going across it on the other end.
“You know, I’ve found that no matter how many times I explore this park, there’s always some old piece of it that I’ve somehow managed to completely overlook.”
“Weird,” I gasp before finally coming to my senses. “I’ve always wanted to visit Belvedere Castle in the park, but I never thought it would be anything like this.”
“That ain’t Belvedere, kid.”
“Well then, what is it?”
“No clue.”
“Maybe I’ve got reception now and can get up a map.” I again pull out my phone. Again I find the message, ‘Phone not registered on network’. “Nevermind.” I replace it in my pocket. “Maybe the storm knocked out the towers around here or something.”
“Well, I guess the only option then is to see if there’s anyone hiding inside those walls there that can point us in the right direction. Still seems like we should be able to see some of the city skyline from here though.”
“Or people walking around,” I add.
“Good call. Maybe we’ll get our answers inside.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I respond and follow him off into the distance.
As we approach, I notice a river cutting through the wall, making a break in the otherwise unending barrier.
The city even smells different today, fresher somehow, although the smell of excrement seems stronger than usual.
Along the edge of the river sits a small cathedral. At least I’d guess it’s a cathedral. It’s a rather long building with great big open windows in the side and covered in crosses. It’s gorgeous.
“Quite the sight, am I right?” Griff asks. “Gotta be plenty of tourists in there to work, huh?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” I answer. The path continues onward to an arched entryway in the middle of the wall. I hasten toward the entrance in eager anticipation of what may lie inside. I look up to the stone gateway and notice several coats of arms plastered into the side of it, containing a series of lions.
“Smell that?” Griff asks.
“Manure?” I ask in return.
“No. Well, yea
h, that too. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” A satisfied look crosses his face. “You sure you don’t smell it?”
I sniff the air and can come up with nothing more than my original answer. I shake my head.
“Barley, almond milk, perhaps a little bit of millet,” he breathes in deeply.
“Okay…” I say, stretching it out in order to accentuate my fear that he may have gone insane.
“Gruel, kid. It’s gruel.” Griff sniffs the air and walks in through the entryway.
“You mean that stuff they made Oliver Twist eat?”
“No!” he shouts, echoing in the small tunnel under the archway. “Well, technically yes, but gruel is so much more than that. My mom used to make it for me when I was a kid. Come on, we’ll find out who’s making it and I’ll scam you some.” Griff is almost skipping down the pathway, not being slowed at all by the uneven cobblestones beneath our feet.
Chapter 7
I move quickly to follow him but almost immediately stop in my tracks, amazed by what hides inside. I am flanked on both sides by bricked walls, stretching on down along this rocky lane into the distance. On the left is a doorway with a sign posted above it stating The Goat and the Mare. The smells emanating from this door are like nothing I’ve ever encountered before. Not all of them are good. In fact, I’d be willing to say that most of them are downright terrible. On the right, is a stairway leading into darkness below street level.
Griff has also come back to stop and stare at the smelly door to the left. His mouth is slack and I think I catch a glimpse of drool. “You ready to eat, kid?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say, even though I’m rather uncertain about eating at a place that stinks like this. “I’ll even pay.”
“I don’t think so, kid. I haven’t paid for lunch in ages.”
“It’s really okay,” I reply.
“No, it’s not. I’ve made it my lifelong goal to prove those idiots who claim there’s no such thing as a free lunch wrong. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let them be right at a place like this.”