A beat up felt hat hung from the coat rack. Its familiar lines brought back a host of memories, the most vivid concerned the wearer and a certain visit paid to a pizza parlor many years ago. Could it be?
During his search for Miko after the fall of The City of Light, Igor had appeared one night driving a beat-up truck and drove him to a pizza parlor. If his memory served, it was the very same pizza parlor in which he now stood.
His mind raced at the implications if he was correct. But this had to be the same place! How many places could there be called Mama’s Pizza that were operated by a woman who was a Trekkie? Very, very few.
Then a sudden remembrance from when he, Jiron, and Jira first arrived at Mama’s caused him to bolt out the door and dash around to the side. Sure enough, there sat the old pickup. True, it had been dark the time Igor appeared and drove him there, but he was fairly certain that this was the very same pickup. Excited, he rushed back inside just as Jiron and Jira were emerging from the restroom.
Jiron quickly noted the state of excitement his friend was in. “What?” he asked. “Did you think of a way to get us home?” Beside him, Jira turned hopeful eyes toward her uncle.
“Maybe,” James replied then moved to the door leading into the kitchen. Opening it a crack, he saw Mama setting a recently washed dish onto the drying rack. Opening the door wider, he said in a slightly louder than normal voice, “Excuse me.”
Glancing his way, she asked, “Yes?” Drying her hands on a dishtowel laying nearby, she moved toward where James peered in through the door. “Is there something else I can help you with?”
James backed from the doorway as she made her way through. He held up the felt hat. “Do you know who this belongs to?”
Taking the hat from him, she peered at it for a moment then shook her head. “No,” she replied. “It’s been on that coat rack for the better part of a year. Haven’t a clue as to whose it is.”
Undeterred, James asked, “How about that pickup parked out back?”
Eyes widening slightly at that, she asked, “That rusty old clunker? It used to be my brother’s but it broke down six years ago and he abandoned it. I keep threatening to have it towed, but haven’t gotten around to it.” She gazed at him with questions in her eyes. “Why?”
“I thought it might be someone’s I know…,” then a thought came to him. “Your brother wouldn’t be short would he? Say three or four feet tall?”
“Herman?” she grinned. “You’re way off there. He’s six foot four.”
Disappointment surfaced and it must have shown on his face. “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“That’s alright,” he replied, mind already awhirl with this added new development. “You have a good day.”
Again her smile shone forth. “You too. And come back when you can.”
James nodded, then gestured for Jiron and Jira to follow him out to the car.
“What was that about?” Jiron asked as soon as they were out the door.
“Igor.”
“Igor? That god or whatever that brought you to my world?”
With a jerk of his head, he directed Jiron’s attention back to the restaurant. “He wore a hat just like that every time we met. Also…” Leading the father and daughter around the side of the building, he pointed toward the truck. “I believe that this was the same truck he picked me up in around the time Cassie died and Tinok ran off.”
Those memories were some of the hardest of Jiron’s life. Cassie had been a dear, sweet girl whom everyone liked. Her death had been hard on him, but especially on his childhood friend Tinok. Tinok had never been the same since her death.
“You think he may be around here?”
James thought for a moment as he panned his gaze across the countryside. “I don’t know…could be nothing more than a coincidence.”
“But you don’t believe that do you?” There had been something in James’ voice that implied he hadn’t.
Pointing to the pickup, James replied, “He picked me up in that vehicle and drove me here, to Mama’s Pizza. He was wearing that felt hat and we split a pepperoni pizza. It was during that visit when I came up with the idea of using crystals to store magical energy.”
“Maybe he’s not through with you yet?”
James’ head swung toward Jiron and met his gaze. “That’s not funny.”
“Wasn’t meant to be. Merely a thought.”
“Well, put that thought right back in your head,” declared James. “I am not getting myself involved with gods, godlings, or whatever Igor may be.” The thought of once again being a pawn in some cosmic dealing left a bitter taste in his mouth. The last time had almost cost him his life, not to mention everyone he had grown to care about.
Jiron let his friend rant and rave for a minute or so, then said, “If your world has no magic, then it may only be through the intervention of someone like this Igor that we will find our way home.” James grew quiet and after a pause, nodded.
“Don’t think I haven’t considered that,” he replied. “It’s one thing for me to seek them out, and another for them to be manipulating events toward some unknown, and potentially lethal, goal.”
After giving his friend a long, thoughtful look, Jiron said, “Okay, let us say that the hat is his and the truck was indeed the one he brought you here in. What does it mean?”
“It means my life is about to get complicated.”
“Or…it could be that he is trying to get you back to my world.” Jiron watched his friend as that sank in.
Such a thought was not totally outside the realm of possibility. It could very well be possible. “Okay, say that is his purpose. How will all this help?”
Jiron kept quiet. He knew the inner workings of James’ mind were churning over the problem. And any talk on his part would only be a distraction.
“A hat…a truck…Mama’s pizza…” None of it made any sense. There was nothing to suggest a course of action. They were still wanted by the government, had nowhere to go and money was quickly running out.
“Father…” Jira began but was quickly silenced. Jiron didn’t want anything to interrupt James’ thought process.
“This is insane,” James finally said as he turned his attention back to the truck. “I don’t…” Spying something amid the rust corroding the rear bumper caused him to halt in mid sentence.
What once used to be a bumper sticker was barely legible after years of exposure to the elements. All that could be made out was a design of what may have been a castle and the letters a-n-d. The rest of the bumper sticker had either been torn away or ruined beyond recognition.
a-n-d. Based on the fact the “d” abutted the castle and that they were all lower case suggested the letters were the tale end of a longer word. It didn’t take an idiot to figure out what the bumper sticker had at one time said.
“That’s it!” he exclaimed.
Memories of another trip made with Igor came flooding back.
“I know this place.”
“You should,” the little guy replied. “You’ve been here often enough.”
“Mommy, mommy!” a little girl squealed with delight as she ran over to the little guy in costume. “It’s Mickey!” Coming over, she gave “Mickey” a big hug then turned to pose while her mother took their picture.
Once the picture was taken, Mickey patted her on the head as she turned to him and said, “Bye, Mickey!”
“This is Disneyland!” James exclaimed incredulously as he stared down Main Street USA and toward Cinderella’s Castle standing majestically at the end.
“Yeah,” the little guy replied. “I love this place.” He started walking down toward the heart of Disneyland, and kids continued coming up to him, giving him hugs and having their picture taken.
“How do you know about it?” James inquired.
“I get around,” Mickey replied. “Besides, those of us who gravitate to what you call good, are drawn to such focal points in the universe.”
“Disneyland is a focal point?” James asked, astonished.
“Think about it,” replied the little guy. “What happens whenever someone mentions it? Those around them feel good, instantly. That makes it a remarkable place, there are very few like it anywhere.” He paused a moment to have his picture taken with several children, their mother simply aglow with happiness.
“Everyone here on Earth knows of it and they continually direct good thoughts toward it,” he explained. “It’s almost a beacon in the night for those of us who can see it.”
Beacon in the night? Focal point? Maybe it isn’t called the most magical place on Earth for nothing? Even if there was no magic, maybe Igor or another like him could be found in attendance. And if so…
They now had a destination. Disneyland.
Chapter Twelve
________________________
Flying down the road as fast as he dared, he knew where they had to go. The words of so long ago kept coming back.
…beacon in the night…
…focal point…
…love this place…
It might have been a long shot to hope that Igor, or one of his peers, if found at Disneyland, would be accommodating and sympathetic to their situation; but it was all they had to go on. A long shot was better than nothing at all.
“Igor once said that Disneyland was a focal point,” James explained for the third time. In his excitement, he kept going over it both in his mind, and verbally. “He said that the people here on Earth are constantly directing good thoughts toward it. I wonder if magic could somehow be directed toward it as well?” A moment of silence then… “It’s possible. Maybe the reason that I can’t do magic is because on Earth, magic is confined to certain areas?” Shaking his head he argued, “No, that’s stupid. There must be another explanation.”
“Didn’t you once tell me that Igor claimed that the Star of Morcyth and the Fire were focal points?” queried Jiron.
James nodded. “Yes, he did.”
“So that might mean that Disneyland could work the same as the Star or Fire.”
“I seriously doubt it,” countered James. “For one thing, the Star and Fire are focal points for gods. Kind of like Morcyth’s and Dmon-Li’s presence in the world.”
“Still,” continued Jiron, “he did use the same term for each.”
“More than likely that was out of convenience for my understanding than any serious corollary between them.”
The car raced along the old road, at times James had to swerve in order to avoid the many warpages in the pavement. Such discussions were getting them nowhere. All he knew was that there was a possibility a way could be found in southern California to get them home.
The old road eventually hooked up with another, better maintained one. After a short distance, they came to a crossroads that boasted a gas station and a fashionable restaurant known as Eats. As it turned out, the restaurant was closed and had been for some time.
With the fuel gauge hovering at just under half a tank, James pulled in and filled up. While there, he inquired about the best way to get to a main highway leading south. After the clerk gave the same convoluted directions for the third time, he opted to buy a Nevada roadmap. Once the clerk pinpointed their location, he was in business.
“We’re not far from 305,” James explained to Jiron after returning to the car. Starting the ignition, he opened the map. “Once on the 305, we follow it south.” Moving his finger he followed 305, then upon reaching Highway 50, jogged east a bit to the 376 where he started following it south until coming to Highway 95. From there, it was a straight shot all the way to Vegas. “After Vegas it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump to L.A.”
“It looks far,” commented Jiron.
James nodded. “Eight or ten hours I would guess,” he predicted. Then he gazed at the mountainous terrain they would be driving through. “Maybe longer.” Putting the car into gear, he pulled away from the station and headed east. A half hour later they came to the 305.
It was a winding, hilly couple hours before they reached the city limits of Austin, a small town on the crossroads of the 305 and Hwy 50. Fifteen minutes east of Austin they turned onto the 376 and continued south.
James was quite content to be taking this route. There wasn’t much traffic and small towns were spaced periodically along the way. At one that had once been an old mining town, a low fuel gauge prompted him to make another stop. Ten minutes and a short restroom break later, they were back on the road.
The afternoon slowly made its way to evening as they began leaving the more rugged terrain and entered an area of cactus and yucca plants. Sand became more prevalent as they passed through the Nevada Desert.
“Thank goodness it’s not summer,” James commented at one point. “My grandparents took me through here in August once. The heat about boiled my brains.”
“Worse than what we encountered down in the Empire?”
“It sure felt like it.”
“Uncle James,” Jira said from the back seat. “I’m tired of being in this car.”
“I know, Jira,” James replied. “But we still have a ways to go.”
Jiron glanced to his friend. “She never liked being cooped up in tight places.”
“I understand that,” agreed James. Glancing into the rearview mirror, he gave her a grin. “Nowhere to stop anyway.”
“I’m hungry,” she complained.
“Already? We ate a big meal not too long ago,” James said.
“How about some ice cream?” she asked hopefully.
“Hmmm, alright,” he replied, “if I see a place.” Her eyes lit up at the prospect of ice cream and she grew contented once more. James glanced sidelong at Jiron and winked.
As it turned out, not long afterward a sign promoting homemade ice cream ten miles ahead came into view. He didn’t need to say anything for two large ice cream cones were prominently displayed on either side of the billboard. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Jira and asked, “Alright?”
“Yes!”
The promised ice cream emporium was one of only a handful of buildings grouped together, each offering something for the traveler. There was even a motel, but after their last experience, James gave it little thought.
Not much more than a walk-up stand attached to the side of a larger café, the sliding window through which one placed an order held a sign saying they were “OPEN”. Two trees spread their boughs over three picnic tables in a small park less than twenty feet away. A good place for travelers weary of being cooped up in their cars to take their ease.
Buying Jira and himself each a double scoop chocolate cone, he went over to the nearest table and sat. Jiron decided to abstain and accompanied him while Jira made a circuit of the collection of yucca plants growing nearby.
“Don’t’ wander off too far,” cautioned her father.
Jira turned toward him and nodded. Already there was a smear of chocolate along her upper lip which would only grow as the ice cream was consumed.
“I’ve been thinking,” began James. “When Igor said Disneyland was a focal point, he must have been referring to positive, or good energy.”
“Like what one would get from a ‘good’ god?”
“Something like that,” agreed James. “If it had been a magical focal point, then all beings, not just those predisposed toward good, would be attracted to it.”
“So…you think this place will not be a great repository of magic on your world?”
James shook his head. “Not a great one, surely.” Then he grinned. “There is another name by which Disneyland is known.”
“Oh?”
“The Magic Kingdom.”
“Really?”
James nodded. “Though not as you would think of magic. It’s more along the lines of wonder and fun, an escape from the reality of planet, Earth.”
“Sounds interesting.” Keeping an eye on his daughter, Jiron saw that she stood motionless at the edge of the picnic area watchin
g the antics of a wild jackrabbit moving from bush to bush. At times it would pause and stand erect, its ears twitching to and fro before continuing on.
“But that leads me to another dilemma,” James admitted. “Let’s assume for a moment that there is a being of power to be found in or around Disneyland. How would I recognize him? When Igor and I were there, no one thought him any different than any of the other workers there.” He let Jiron chew on that for a moment. “It isn’t like we could go up to people and ask if they are gods.”
Jiron chuckled. “No, that wouldn’t be advisable. Not even in my world.”
“I do still think that going there is the right course of action.”
“If you think it’s right,” replied Jiron, “then it probably is. Over the years I’ve grown to trust your judgment about such things.”
“Though what to do once we get there is still a mystery.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out in time.”
The jackrabbit had scampered off and Jira was returning to their table. Face now hardly recognizable beneath the coating of dried, and semi-dried, chocolate ice cream, she came over and proceeded to regale her father with the rabbit’s exploits.
James listened to her narrative and longed to once again hear his own son’s excited commentary about one thing or another. About to go down the road to depression and self-pity, he instead shook it off and announced that it was time to return to the car. As long as he stayed in motion and kept his mind busy with the task at hand, he could keep such destructive, and anti-productive thoughts at bay.
Once Jira’s face had been returned to normalcy and all were back in the car, they got underway. Another hour or so later they turned onto Hwy 95. From there it was a straight shot into Las Vegas.
Ah, Vegas. James had visited once before, but there was nothing like arriving by car after the sun went down. The glow seen from afar gradually revealed itself as a myriad of visual sights, each designed to entice and enthrall. Neon lights beckoned all to come and discover what this city in the desert had to offer.
Light in the Barren Lands: Travail of The Dark Mage Book One Page 16