Simply the Quest

by Mary Evans

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘So you’re searching for you don’t know what, you don’t know when,’ said Felix, turning to leave. ‘Good luck.’

  ‘It’s my dad,’ said Elliot quickly. ‘He . . . He did something. Something bad. I’m trying to find out what.’

  ‘I see,’ said Felix.

  The librarian studied Elliot curiously.

  ‘How much do you already know?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Elliot.

  ‘I see,’ said Felix again. He gestured to Elliot to stand and took his place at the computer. ‘I remember your father’s story well. Small town like this, the big news stands out.’

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ said Virgo. ‘The 1979 Summer of Soap Scum must have been exhilarating.’

  ‘It was around my fortieth birthday,’ said Felix, whizzing through newspaper pages at speed. ‘So that makes it November, ten years ago. He was front page news.’

  ‘Why?’ said Elliot nervously. ‘What did he do?’

  ‘It would have been . . . here,’ said Felix, expanding a page on the screen. ‘There. Why don’t you read for yourself?’

  The librarian stood up silently, allowing Elliot to see the page he had loaded on the computer. Elliot looked with a heavy heart at the first picture he had ever seen of his father: being hauled away in handcuffs by the police.

  ‘He looks just like you!’ Virgo gasped.

  She was right. The man in the photograph could be Elliot’s future self. As his stomach churned with fear, curiosity and anticipation at discovering his father’s crime, Elliot hoped that his own future would be very different.

  He read the article, splashed across the front page.

  LOCAL FARMER GUILTY AFTER

  FAILED JEWEL HEIST

  A Little Motbury farmer has been found guilty of attempted robbery, grievous bodily harm and possession of a firearm at the Crown Court.

  David James Hooper, thirty-four, pleaded guilty to all charges relating to the attempted robbery of Kowalski Gems on 26 November, in which Constable Simpson was seriously wounded by a shot fired by Mr Hooper. Hooper was sentenced to twelve years’ imprisonment. His accomplice, Stanley Johnson, remains at large.

  Hooper said nothing as he was led from the court, watched by his wife, Josie, and parents, Wilfred and Audrey Hooper.

  Elliot slumped into the chair. So that was it. His dad was a violent criminal. No wonder his family had disowned him. No wonder Mum was so scared. He must be the bad man she was trying to lock out.

  ‘That can’t be easy,’ said Felix gently.

  ‘What happened to Constable Simpson?’ asked Virgo.

  Elliot held his breath. He didn’t really want to hear the answer.

  ‘That was the end of his police career,’ said Felix eventually. ‘But he healed in time. Gave him a new lease of life, in fact. Realized he didn’t want to waste a moment. He went back to university, got the education he never had and went on to a whole new career. He always felt that, in a funny way, your dad did him a favour.’

  ‘Doubt he felt like that with a gun in his face.’

  ‘No,’ said Felix quietly. ‘I doubt he did.’

  ‘Who is this Stanley Johnson?’ Virgo asked. ‘His name frequently appears in the newspaper.’

  ‘Back in the day, he was Little Motbury’s oneman crime wave,’ said Felix. ‘A very troubled individual who caused a lot of individuals trouble.’

  ‘Why was my dad mixed up with him?’

  ‘You’d have to ask him that,’ said Felix quietly.

  There was a heavy pause as Elliot looked miserably at the screen. He had always feared his dad might be dead. Somehow, this felt worse.

  ‘Would you like me to print it out for you?’ asked Felix.

  ‘Sure,’ said Elliot. ‘I can hang it in the Hooper Hall of Fame next to my first letter suspending me from school and my most recent report card.’

  Felix fiddled with the buttons on the front of the screen and an aged printer churned the page out, burning the image of his criminal father on to Elliot’s mind.

  ‘If this job has taught me anything,’ said Felix, putting the paper into an envelope and handing it over, ‘it is that the past is not black and white. It’s far more complex than words on paper.’

  Elliot turned the article in his hands as he choked back the shame and disappointment rising from his gut. How could a single sheet of paper in an envelope feel so heavy?

  ‘This past looks pretty clear to me,’ he said, putting the article in his satchel.

  ‘That’s only one side of the story,’ said Felix. ‘In my experience, there are always at least two.’

  ‘This is true,’ said Virgo. ‘You should hear Aphrodite’s and Athene’s conflicting opinions on optimal clothing.’

  ‘People aren’t always as they appear,’ Felix continued. He walked over to a creaking stand that held some yellowing leaflets. He picked one out of the rack and handed it to Elliot. ‘You might find this useful.’

  ‘How to Contact a Prisoner,’ Elliot read. ‘Why would I want to do that? He shot a policeman. He’s a loser.’

  ‘You’re looking for answers,’ said Felix. ‘Your father would be able to provide them. Think on it.’

  Elliot noticed a petition on the librarian’s desk asking people to oppose the redevelopment of the library into a gym. He added his name to the short list of signatures. This place was actually pretty useful.

  ‘I appreciate that,’ said Felix with a warm smile.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Elliot.

  ‘My pleasure,’ said Felix, his eyes twinkling. ‘We saddos always welcome a little excitement.’

  9. If the Zap Fits . . .

  Once he’d finally assured Mum that the door was locked, back in his bedroom, Elliot’s mind was buzzing with the day’s discoveries. How did his dad go from troublemaker to violent criminal? Why was he robbing a jewellery shop? Why did he risk everything he had with Mum?

  Why did he leave you? said his dark voice.

  He tipped his satchel out on to his bed and found Felix’s leaflet. It said that if he wrote to a prisoner, the letter would be given to them. It was then up to the prisoner if they replied.

  Elliot turned it over in his mind. His angry self said his dad could rot in prison – he’d never bothered to write to Elliot, so why should Elliot write to him?

  But a different voice said that maybe his dad had good reason. His letter had suggested that he and Josie had agreed not to communicate – perhaps his dad didn’t feel he could get in touch? Perhaps he was sitting in prison even now, hoping for some word from his only son? Perhaps he missed Elliot and wanted the chance to apologize?

  ‘Nothing comes from nothing,’ Mum always used to say. He could really use her wisdom right now. Elliot looked at all the magical gizmos on his bed. If only one of them had the answer. He pulled out a notepad and started to write.

  Dear Dad,

  He stopped and looked at the page. He had never used that word before. It felt very strange – and this complete stranger didn’t deserve it now. Elliot screwed the paper up and tossed it over his shoulder.

  Dear Dave,

  Now he had a problem. Which name should he use? Dave? Or David? This was stupid. He didn’t know what to call his own father. He screwed up the second piece of paper and threw it at the first.

  Dear Dad,

  I hope you are well.

  Well? His dad had been in prison for ten years. Of course he wasn’t well. Elliot threw his third effort away.

  He stared at the empty page for what seemed like an eternity before picking up his pen once more.

  Dear Dad,

  This is a really weird letter to write and it must be a really weird letter to read. I am your son, Elliot. I only just found out where you were because no one told me. I know you’re in prison and I know what you did. But I’d like you to explain why you did it. I want to hear your side of the story. I think what you did was wrong. But then lots of people think the stuff I do
is wrong. Sometimes they’re right. But not always.

  I am twelve – you should know that – and I like eating, hate school and don’t care what I do when I grow up, but I hope I never have to wear a tie. I hope you’ll answer my letter because only you can answer my questions. I still live at Home Farm with Mum.

  I hope prison isnt too rubbish and that the food is OK.

  Elliot

  He wondered if he should mention Mum’s illness, but something stopped him. He didn’t know this man – he had no right to their business.

  Elliot put the letter in an envelope and addressed it as Felix’s leaflet instructed. He stared at it. Would his dad write back?

  A wild banging on his window startled him.

  ‘Mate! You gotta come up to the shed,’ laughed Hermes, hovering beyond the glass. ‘Not being funny, but you have to see this . . .’

  Elliot thought about Mum. He should really spend some time with her, but . . .

  She’s being a real pain today, his dark voice whispered.

  ‘Hermes – could you do me a favour?’ he said as he opened the window.

  ‘Mate – name it, it’s done, boom!’ said Hermes with a fist-bump.

  ‘Could you fly this down to the postbox, please?’ Elliot asked, handing him the letter. ‘It’s for a school project.’

  He coloured slightly at his half-truth. But until he knew what the whole truth was, he wasn’t ready to share it. He stuffed everything back in his satchel and headed for the door.

  ‘On it like a siren’s sonnet – see you in the shed,’ yelled Hermes over his shoulder, already whizzing over the fields.

  Elliot’s mind was a blizzard of his dad’s words as he walked across the paddock towards the shed. There’s so much I’m sorry for . . . I could be a free man . . . I want to come home.

  Should he let his dad come home? After all, Dave Hooper was no more than a stranger to Elliot. What if he really was a bad man? What if he came home and upset Mum? What if Elliot opened their door to a dangerous criminal? What if they got hurt?

  But then again, Elliot thought – what if he wasn’t? Dave Hooper wasn’t a stranger to his mum – she had loved him. What if his dad was a changed man? What if his dad going to prison had made Mum sick? What if he came home and she got better? What if they fell in love again? What if they became a real family? What if . . .?

  What if you weren’t always stuck with looking after her? his dark voice taunted.

  ‘Elliot?’

  Virgo’s voice yanked him out of his own head as he walked into the shed. ‘Are you optimal?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Elliot reflexively. He wasn’t sure how he felt about sharing his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how he felt about anything.

  ‘It’s an absolute bally DISGRACE!’ roared Zeus, perched on his golden throne, wrestling with something on his leg. From the outside, Elliot’s cowshed looked like any normal farm outbuilding. But after some immortal interior design from Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth, the inside of the Gods’ dwelling had the grandeur of an ancient Greek palace. What had once been a rundown shelter for Bessie, the cow he had raised from a lame calf, now sported marble floors, rows of verdant olive trees, a fountain and the Gods’ luxurious bedchambers. Elliot patted Bessie on his way past her luscious meadow in the corner of the shed.

  ‘Daddy, you need to calm down,’ said Aphrodite, pulling at a small silver box on her ankle. ‘There has to be a way to get them off . . . OH, SNORDLESNOT!’

  ‘What’s occurred?’ said Virgo.

  ‘We opened . . .’ Athene began.

  ‘You opened,’ snapped Zeus, yanking at his ankle. ‘I wanted to put a thunderbolt to anything that witch has laid her evil fingers on . . .’

  ‘Fine – I thought someone should open the package that Hera left yesterday,’ Athene explained, pulling at the identical device on her leg. ‘These boxes flew out and attached themselves to our ankles.’

  ‘Oh my days! Hold tight – I’ll just shut this up . . .’ yelled Hermes, his iGod ringing as he flew into the shed. ‘Not being funny or anything, guys – but you’ve all been ZAPPED!’

  ‘Zapped?’ asked Elliot.

  ‘Zillion Amp Power-Preventing Electrical Devices,’ Hermes explained. ‘They’re normally dished out to rowdy satyrs after a stag night. Dad, you really don’t want to—’

  ‘Ruddy ridiculous name!’ bellowed Zeus, pulling a small thunderbolt out of his pocket and aiming it at the box on his ankle. ‘Why would anyone call it . . .’

  ZAP!

  ‘Aaaargh!’

  As the thunderbolt left his hand, Zeus leapt from his throne, clutching his considerable backside.

  ‘The bally thing just bit me in the bot!’ he boomed, rubbing his sore bottom.

  ‘How come you don’t have one?’ Virgo asked Hermes.

  ‘You can’t tag the H-bomb!’ posed Hermes, flexing his biceps and kissing them both.

  ‘But you can kiss Hera’s shrivelled old bum,’ said Aphrodite. ‘I can’t believe she’s let you off. You always were her favourite stepchild.’

  ‘Er, sis, not being funny,’ said Hermes, ‘but I wasn’t the stepchild who turned her into a hairy pig.’

  ‘You were the only stepchild who noticed the difference, though,’ grumbled Athene. ‘Let’s just apply some simple logic. Perhaps I can change it into something easier to remove . . . I’ll try a rubber ring . . .’

  ZAP!

  As her magical touch made contact with the box, the Goddess of Wisdom’s hand quickly snatched to her bottom with a yelp.

  Aphrodite laughed as her sister tried to maintain her dignity while rubbing her backside.

  ‘Your problem,’ said the love Goddess, ‘is that you don’t think out of the box. Elly? Please may I have the wishing pearl? Elly?’

  But Elliot was in a world of his own. A world where he had a mum, a dad and a normal life.

  ‘Earth to Elly?’ Aphrodite cooed while stroking his chin. Elliot snapped back to the room.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Elliot?’ asked Athene. ‘You seem very distracted.’

  ‘Just . . . stuff,’ said Elliot. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘The wishing pearl, please, sweetie,’ said Aphrodite with a cheeky smile.

  Elliot rummaged around in his satchel and pulled out the heart-shaped wishing pearl. It only worked once a day for seven minutes. But when those seven minutes were spent flying, being invisible or eating an ice cream the size of the Statue of Liberty, they were pretty epic. He’d learnt over the weeks that you could only make each wish once – but during a night on the toilet after wishing for the world’s hottest curry, he’d decided that was no bad thing.

  ‘Have you used it today?’ Aphrodite whispered.

  Elliot shook his head. He needed more than a wishing pearl right now.

  ‘Perfect,’ smiled the Goddess of Love. ‘So . . . I wish to take off all our zappers . . .’

  ZAP!

  ZAP!

  ZAP!

  The moment the words left her beautiful lips, Aphrodite, Athene and Zeus all received a personal prod in the rear.

  ‘What did you do that for!’ Athene shouted. ‘I only just got over the last one!’

  ‘If you’d all just listen . . .’ shouted Hermes, pulling out his ringing iGod. ‘Mates. Babes. You mustn’t use your powers. And no one should use their powers on you. Otherwise, not to put too fine a point on it, you’ll have a bum like a sunburnt baboon. Epic non-bosh. Hello?’

  ‘OH, FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE!’ roared Zeus, as he changed into a snake, a mouse, a duck and a bee to shake the box off, each transformation earning him a zap, making him hiss, squeak, quack and buzz.

  ‘I was applying your precious logic!’ yelled Aphrodite at her sister.

  ‘Sorry Uncle H, I can barely hear you,’ said Hermes, fluttering away from the chaos with his iGod on his right ear and his finger in his left.

  ‘Well, stick to applying your lipstick,’ shouted Athene back. ‘Your powers are useless!’


  ‘Oh, yeah?’ said Aphrodite, producing a small phial from her pocket. ‘Well, let’s see how useless you find a dose of my extra-potent Burping Brew – TAKE THAT!’

  ZAP!

  But when Aphrodite went to throw the potion at her sister, she was zapped again, throwing her aim, and the bottle, off course. It flew through the air, discharging its contents over the nearest person – who just happened to be Virgo.

  BUUURRRRP!

  An ear-shattering belch burst from Virgo’s lips.

  ‘What was THAT?!’ she cried.

  ‘Maybe it’s your quest,’ said Elliot, trying not to laugh as the Gods clasped their backsides, every attempt to use their powers for themselves or on each other resulting in a zapping.

  ‘That can’t be right,’ shouted Hermes over the chaos. ‘Sounded like you said . . .’

  ZAP!

  ‘You pig!’

  OUCH!

  ‘You witch!’

  QUACK!

  ‘Snordlesnot!’

  BURP!

  ‘I never ate that . . .’

  ‘WILL EVERYONE JUST SHUUUUUT UUUUUP!’

  The shed fell silent as Hermes shot into the air to make himself heard. Virgo stifled another almighty gastric eruption with a cushion.

  ‘Right. OK. Gotcha,’ said the Messenger God. ‘We’ll be there.’

  ‘Well, who the devil was that?’ said Zeus, transforming an apple into an ice-pack and getting a zap for his troubles.

  ‘That was Uncle Hades,’ said Hermes. ‘He wants to see us.’

  ‘Well, he can’t,’ grumbled Zeus. ‘We’re stuck here. He’ll have to wait.’

  ‘Dad, not being funny, but this one won’t wait,’ said Hermes, looking worriedly at Elliot. ‘Uncle H says I need to get E to the Asphodel Fields. Pronto.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Athene, instinctively moving to Elliot’s side. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s Thanatos,’ said Hermes grimly. ‘Someone’s set him free.’

  10. Long Time No See

  Thanatos had no idea how long he had lain beneath the rubble of stalactites in the Cave of Sleep and Death. It could have been days. It could have been weeks. It had in fact been over two months. At least it wouldn’t be for ever, he thought, hauling his bruised and bleeding body on to his throne of bones.