Between Worlds

by Skip Brittenham

  • • •

  Hidden from the battlefield’s carnage by the deep green grass, Marshall had crawled until he was just a few feet from Monga’s blind side. He stopped and rolled up onto his hip, digging frantically in his backpack. Finally, he whipped out the revolver.

  Marshall rocked to his feet—knees bent, body square to his target—and used both hands to aim the business end of the gun at the back of Monga’s head. He scrunched his left eye shut as he focused on relaxing and pulling the trigger back, not too fast, not too slow.

  No one could miss a target that big, this close.

  Marshall squeezed the trigger three times in rapid succession, bracing for the explosive noise and recoil, followed by the splatter of Monga’s blood. Instead of three loud bangs, the pistol expelled three sharp noises that sounded like a squeaky door. Stunned, Marshall lowered the tip of the barrel, watching the bullets transform into puffs of silver that burst softly on Monga’s back before dissipating like glitter. He should have already learned this lesson. Earth technology didn’t work on Nith.

  Provoked by the strange sensations on his back, Monga swiveled his head, then glowered at Marshall with his flat, merciless eye. He whipped a tail around Marshall’s waist and jerked him into the air, tilting his head forward to scrutinize him closer, all while still maintaining the lavender spell that was squeezing the life out of Mayberry.

  Marshall’s right hand was now only a few feet from the monster’s face. Mustering the courage for one last roll of the dice, Marshall punched the pistol’s steel barrel into the rotten black hole where Monga’s eye had once resided.

  Monga screamed and jerked his head down so violently it ripped the pistol out of Marshall’s hand, rattling the nerves in his arm all the way up to his shoulder. The beast’s tails went limp, and Marshall’s body fell into the grass. Roaring like an angry lion, Monga plucked the gun barrel from his eye socket, then fell to the ground, where he released earsplitting screams of pain that reverberated across the whole battlefield.

  The lavender cloud in Mayberry’s bubble thinned and vanished.

  Petrified by their master’s unexpected change of fortune, the Varnets squealed, dropped their weapons, and fled, followed by the Heeturs, who immediately abandoned the fight with the exhausted Sleviccs.

  • • •

  Mayberry’s lungs heaved, and her breath came back in staccato shudders as she struggled to recharge her brain and body. Her limbs tingled and burned as they woke up. She barely noticed when the bubble hit the ground and burst, flopping her roughly onto the grass. Then she lifted her head and was surprised to see Mirrt blitzing across the meadow, with Co-Co riding on his right head.

  Monga was still on the ground, writhing and screaming. The staff was lying near him untouched, only a few feet from his hands. Mayberry jumped up and sprinted for it.

  Monga stopped screaming and summoned enough energy to desperately sweep the ground with his outstretched fingers to find the staff. Unfortunately, his hand touched the staff before Mayberry could reach it. He hoisted himself back onto his feet just as Mirrt leaped like a tiger, stretching open his cavernous, dagger-lined jaws. As Monga prepared to fire a power spell with the staff that would blow Mayberry into millions of pieces, Mirrt’s right jaw clamped onto his wrist and nearly tore it apart, forcing him to release the staff.

  With dazzling speed, Co-Co skipped off Mirrt’s left head and used her tail to snatch the staff out of midair and flick it to Mayberry, who caught the magical artifact in her palm, right where it belonged.

  Co-Co inflated her body as she tumbled down. She resembled a furry beach ball that bobbed gently in the air.

  As Monga’s staff morphed into Merlin’s wand, the runes inscribed on it glowed a bright yellow, infusing Mayberry with a tremendous surge of energy. A nanosecond later, she fired the yellow spell into Monga’s chest. The spell paralyzed the pitiful remains of his broken body, and then a golden stream of energy began to flow out of Monga’s massive torso and back into the wand, quickly turning from trickle to torrent.

  Monga collapsed into a mountainous flaccid heap. One of his hands clawed spastically at the air while the other fell limply into the ground.

  Game over.

  CHAPTER 59

  CO-CO DRIFTED TO THE GROUND, extended her feet, and gently touched down. She expelled the excess air from her body and pranced merrily over to Mayberry’s side.

  Mayberry absorbed as much of the wand’s stolen energy as her body would allow. She gazed around and suddenly knew what she had to do. Leveling the wand, she pushed out golden streams of energy into the wounded and dying Sleviccs and their allies, who littered the battlefield. The warriors instantly began to revive.

  One by one, they sat up and tested out their limbs, trying to fathom what had happened and amazed that certain death had turned into renewed strength and miraculous healing. Finally, they gathered at a respectful distance in a happy jostling crowd to salute Mayberry.

  Kellain began to chant her name slowly, and the other Sleviccs joined in. “Mayberry, Mayberry, Mayberry,” they yelled lustily, then bowed their heads as if she were the queen of Nith.

  “Mayberry,” Marshall shouted with a big smile, “it looks like the Sleviccs are finally ready to give you the throne.” Then his eyes went wide and he turned to point at their helpless friend. “Aaron. Use the wand on Aaron.”

  Jolted back to reality, Mayberry spun around and trained the wand on Aaron, who was now lying on his back near the cave’s mouth. They ran to his side and touched his clammy face. His breath was barely a whisper, his face eggshell white. Mayberry used the wand to pour streams of golden life force into him.

  He didn’t revive.

  “This should have healed him,” Mayberry said, her eyes pooling with tears.

  “I’m dying,” Aaron gurgled, his eyes still closed. “Thank you for coming back. You saved us. Well, most . . . of . . . us.”

  “Don’t give up,” Marshall said, grasping his hand. “We are going to take you back to Earth. Your parents don’t blame you for Laura’s death. They love you, and they need you to come home.”

  Aaron’s eyelids fluttered, then glazed over and stared blankly at the sky. Marshall took his pulse; it was very faint.

  “He’s unconscious but breathing,” Marshall said. “Let’s move. The doctors on Earth must have already pulled the plug. Otherwise your spell would have healed him.”

  Mayberry unconsciously slid the wand into her backpack, put it on, and then reached down to grab Aaron under the arm. As Marshall reached for his other arm, Kellain shook his head, then picked Aaron up like he weighed nothing and threw his limp body over a shoulder. Together, they sprinted toward the grove. When they hit the forest’s edge, Kellain mewed and looked concerned, but he kept moving into it anyway.

  Co-Co, Mirrt, and Uuth remained where they were, watching.

  When they finally reached the Tree, Kellain gently laid Aaron’s body next to its trunk. He touched Aaron’s chest and forehead with his fingertips, bowed his head, and waved good-bye. Then he turned and loped away.

  Marshall and Mayberry quickly flopped down to flank Aaron and touched his hands.

  “All three of us want to go back to Earth together,” both of them said, their voices tight.

  • • •

  Aaron’s ragged breathing suddenly stopped. As he dreamed of home, a vortex of white light grew brighter and bigger, beckoning his soul into it . . .

  CHAPTER 60

  MARSHALL’S EYES FLUTTERED OPEN, and he jerked upright. Mayberry was still sleeping, so he shook her shoulders gently to wake her up. The sun had set and it was pitch-black.

  “Where’s Aaron?” Mayberry asked, before her eyes were even all the way open. “Were we too late?”

  “If he’s alive, he’s at the hospital,” Marshall said.

  “Right. You’re right,” she said, then sat up an
d gazed into the woods, and at the backpack, which lay by her side. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “Look at this,” she said, pulling the wand from the back pocket of her pack. It didn’t look impressive—it really did look like an ordinary brown stick—but its power pulsed through her hand. Mayberry tried a simple fire spell.

  It worked. A bright white beam of light spat from the end of the wand, lighting up the whole area around them.

  “Ha! For once we don’t have to find our way out of here in the dark,” Mayberry said, grinning like a circus clown.

  Marshall was tingling with excitement. “The Tree brought back a material object from Nith. That proves that it exists on a physical plane, not just a mental one.”

  “As if there was any doubt about that,” Mayberry said, staring at the light coming from the wand’s tip. “People have definitely used the wand on Earth—look at Merlin. But I don’t think we want anyone here in this era learning how to use it. Too many crazies.”

  “I agree,” Marshall said, nodding. “That wand can’t fall into the wrong hands—look at what happened when Monga had it. So we can’t tell anybody about it. Or about the Wishing Tree,” Marshall said, shaking his head sadly.

  “We’re the only people on Earth who can do actual magic. We’d be superstars if people knew.”

  Mayberry dusted the leaves and brush from her sweater. “Let’s forget about that for now and find Aaron.”

  Later, after they exited the forest and started walking through the meadow, Marshall whipped out his cell phone—7:35 P.M. He went online and looked up the number for Methodist United Hospital, then clicked on the number.

  After he was put through, he immediately asked the nurse on duty whether Aaron Fitzsimmons was still alive, then nodded and hung up.

  “He’s alive and awake in room 1424. We did it!” he said, grabbing Mayberry and pulling her into a tight hug.

  “What are we waiting for?” Mayberry said, her face flushed with excitement. “We can ride to the hospital. If we pedal fast, it shouldn’t take more than half an hour.”

  CHAPTER 61

  THEY SLIPPED OFF THE ELEVATOR on Aaron’s floor. The nurses seated behind the floor’s reception cubicle were being inundated by phone calls. The word was out. A miracle had occurred. The boy who had been in a coma had woken up just as he was being pulled off life support.

  Marshall and Mayberry scurried past the busy nurses’ station toward room 1424. When they got there, Mayberry poked her head through the open door to peek into Aaron’s room. Aaron was sitting up, clad in a standard pale green hospital gown, with his legs dangling loosely over the side of his bed. He looked bright-eyed and chipper.

  Two doctors hovered nearby as a third slid a stethoscope over his chest.

  The depth of the emotion floating in the room was overwhelming. Aaron’s mother’s face was streaked with tears of relief. His father wore a huge lopsided grin and couldn’t stop patting his wife’s head and shoulders.

  The doctor with the stethoscope glared imperiously at Mayberry when he spotted her. “Excuse me,” he said, making a sweeping motion with a hand. “You’re not allowed in here.”

  “But—” Mayberry began as Marshall stepped up beside her.

  “Mayberry!” Aaron shouted with glee, sliding off the bed. “Marshall. Look at me. I’m fourteen.”

  “But . . . but . . . you have to stay in bed,” the flustered doctor blurted out. He reached to push the boy back, but Aaron deftly maneuvered around him with a grace and vigor that clearly shocked the doctors.

  “I’ve been in bed long enough,” he declared. “I need to see my friends now.”

  He flew across the room on bare feet, with the back of his green hospital gown flapping behind him. First he embraced Mayberry, then Marshall.

  “Aaron,” the doctor sharply commanded, “these visitors need to leave. There are rules in this ward, and we have a number of tests to run. We need to determine how—”

  “I expect you’ll have to do those tests, but not until Aaron’s ready,” said Eric in a gruff baritone. “A miracle saved my boy, and if he wants to see his friends, you’re not going to stop him.”

  Aaron’s mom lifted her head and narrowed her eyes at the flustered doctor and his companions. “You told me to let my boy go, and he was alive. You know what? Get out. I don’t want to see any of you in here again.”

  EPILOGUE

  Two Months Later . . .

  THE MOST POPULAR STUDENT at Eden Grove High School strolled down the school’s main hall, surrounded by a fleet of admirers. Aaron was the first celebrity that Eden Grove had ever produced. After the story of his incredible recovery broke, the rabid press nicknamed him Miracle Boy, and it stuck. His remarkable poise and strikingly mature responses to the media’s questions sealed his rock star status. He claimed to have no idea how or why his miracle had occurred, but that didn’t matter; the frenzy continued unabated. Every entertainment outlet wanted a piece of this feel-good story, especially because it was also tinged by the tragic death of a little girl. The mystery surrounding his remarkable recovery after his plug was pulled deepened when he refused to submit to any further medical examinations.

  Aaron high-fived Marshall and winked at Mayberry as he cruised by his best friends.

  Some of the girls at school now tried to emulate bits and pieces of Mayberry’s eclectic style—even going as far as dying their hair with bright streaks of color. So many classmates were trying to “friend” Mayberry that she couldn’t keep up.

  “See you after class,” Marshall said, giving Mayberry’s waist a squeeze. “By the way, I’m writing a book titled How My Girlfriend and I Found an Ancient Sentient Tree That Teleported Us to Another Universe to Rescue a Boy Presumed Brain-Dead. Kind of catchy, isn’t it?”

  She shook her head and laughed, then went up on tiptoe to give him a kiss.

  “You know, Marshall, now that we’ve confirmed the greatest scientific discovery in human history, we need to find another project to research—like why those sealed bags of salad turn brown the second you get them home.”

  Marshall chuckled, then turned away and walked toward his English class.

  Whap.

  He felt a light burning sensation between his shoulder blades. He whipped his head around and saw that Mayberry was also reaching for Monga’s mark. Farther down the hall, Aaron was doing the same.

  • • •

  As the threesome felt their marks light up at school, Merlin’s wand—stashed in Mayberry’s bedroom closet at home—popped straight up into the air and began spitting yellow sparks. It started to rotate, faster and faster, transforming into Excalibur, then Thor’s hammer, then the Cup of Jamshid, then another object of power, and another until it was just a wild blur of constant motion.

  Simultaneously, the walking stick marked MF CENTER 1 floated into the air next to the wand spitting yellow sparks too, spinning slowly at first, then speeding up and transforming into different objects of power, just like its neighbor.

  • • •

  Poof.

  Marshall, Mayberry, and Aaron felt the burning sensations on their backs ease.

  • • •

  The power objects slowed. Floating back to the closet floor, they reverted to their original forms: a walking stick and an innocuous-looking wand. Without a master to command their power, they were merely branches cut from the Wishing Tree, centuries apart.

  • • •

  Marshall caught Mayberry’s eye. She touched her mark and shrugged. He shrugged back, gave a thumbs-up to her and Aaron, then kept walking to class.

  BIBLIOGRAPHY

  Cox, Brian, and Andrew Cohen. Wonders of Life: Exploring the Most Extraordinary Phenomenon in the Universe. New York: Harper Design, 2013.

  DiChristina, Mariette, ed. “Extreme Physics: Probing the Mysteries of the Cosmos.” Special Collector’s Edition, Scientific American, Sum
mer 2013.

  Mitton, Jeffry B., and Michael C. Grant. “Genetic Variation and the Natural History of Quaking Aspen.” BioScience 46, no. 1 (January 1996): 25–31.

  Quammen, David. “The World’s Largest Trees.” National Geographic, December 2012.

  Steinhardt, Paul J., and Neil Turok. Endless Universe: Beyond the Big Bang. New York: Doubleday, 2007.

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