by C. M. Bacon
POP-POP
I heard the sound of the glass beakers exploding one by one.
CRACKLE HISS POP-POP HISS
All the equipment and research inside either burned, boiled, or melted. The red pipes disintegrated as the fire died down, leaving a pile of red dust with only the black charred outline of a hexagon on the ground.
From DING to dust, everything was gone in less than a minute. The five of us tiptoed towards the pile of dust that had been an expensive dome seconds before. Arvin watched from a safe distance. Arvin’s little red rock rested in the center of the dust, its tiny silver flecks sparkling in the light.
“My equipment,” Halvor hollered, pressing his palms against his temples.
“All our research,” Fia moaned. “What did you do?” she asked, turning to confront Arvin.
“I didn’t mean to burn it. It was an accident,” Arvin shouted, telling them our story – express style. “It’s a magic rock. It was a gift from Grandmother on a sinking island with a yellow balloon gewgaw.” Arvin tiptoed his way back to our position by the smoldering hexagon imprint in the grass.
“Magic? No such thing. It must be something else,” said Fia.
“He’s telling the truth,” I said, backing up Arvin’s story.
“Some kind of fulminated mercury, perhaps? It should be gray, but that’s what those tiny silver flecks could be,” Fia suggested.
“Must be. I’ve never seen anything like it,” agreed Tarin.
“Then why is the rock untouched?” Iwa said. “It would’ve been blown into a million pieces if that were the case. But look, it’s not even charred.”
“Because it’s a magic rock,” I said, repeating Arvin’s claim. “When Arvin dropped it on the island, it multiplied into a million little rocks.”
“Nonsense. Then why didn’t it multiply here?” Fia asked.
“How should I know,” I said. “Maybe it does something different in different places. On the island, it multiplies. Here, it sets fire to things.”
“That’s a little too convenient for me. Next, I suppose you’ll swear it can turn trees into tornados,” Fia said.
Halvor smiled. “Time for an experiment.” He picked up the little red rock out of the dust, fondling it in his open palm. “Oh, it’s not even warm. That’s weird.”
“Perry,” Arvin said, “if gewgaws do different things in different places, why did the yellow balloon do the same thing in two places. It doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe there’s more to it.”
Halvor finished poking and prodding the rock and tossed it at a nearby pine tree. We all ducked, half-believing the tree would explode into a swirling tornado, bringing a witch and flying monkeys along with it. The rock bounced off the tree with a DING and fell to the ground. It stayed where it landed and did nothing else.
“There goes his theory,” Fia said, smirking. Tarin followed with a chuckle.
Arvin ran up to the rock and picked it up off the grass. “It isn’t cold. It’s warm. Feel it,” he insisted, holding out the rock for all of us to touch.
“Arvin, it’s cold,” I said. Everyone nodded in agreement.
Arvin Said, “But, I feel the rock getting hotter. Can’t you?” We all took turns feeling the rock again, all agreeing it was cold.
“How come you feel it, but we don’t?” I asked. “What’s different about you?”
“He’s a pocket person and a better liar than you. That’s the difference,” Fia said, insulting us both again.
Arvin snapped back. “I may be short, but I’m not a liar.”
“He’s not a liar,” I said, stepping beside Arvin, putting my hand on his shoulder.
I looked down at his pale, freckled face searching for an explanation. His fire-red curls twirled and bounced in the breeze like little flames.
“Fire-red curls!” I said. “Oh geez, Arvin. You have fire-red curls.”
“What?” Arvin asked, stroking his lovely locks. “You mean my hair? What about it?”
“You’re the only one with red hair - curly long fire-red hair.”
“Yeah, so?” Arvin asked.
“Here, let me try something,” I said, grabbing a single twirly strand of Arvin’s hair. I yanked it out of his head.
“Ouch! You could’ve warned me,” Arvin said, rubbing the spot.
I took the red rock from Arvin’s hand and wrapped one of his long, red hairs around it several times. Holding it in my open palm, I felt something peculiar. “Wow, it is getting warm,” I said. “In fact, it’s getting hot.” Arvin backed away from me.
“Ouch! Ouch!” I screamed, throwing the hot rock aside. It bounced off the second dome with a DING.
WHOOSH!
The dome burst into flames, melting the metal and glass hexagons and setting fire to everything inside.
FIZZZZZZ POP
A green can of soda flew into the sky like a rocket, spraying a sweet mist into the air.
“No!” Fia said, “Not my ginger ale.”
“Oh, Fia. I guess that was your supply dome,” I said, holding my breath. I bit my lip to avoid laughing.
FIZZZZZZ POP
Another can of soda popped its top, bursting out of the flames, flying past me, and hitting Arvin on the leg. He fell to the ground with a terrible THUD.
I ran to comfort my injured friend. As I reached him, I turned back to see the flames had died out, leaving a pile of dust in the dome’s place. The little red rock sparkled in the center of it all. Arvin curled up into his roly-poly position, grabbing his left shin with both hands, unable to hold back his tears.
“Arvin. I’m sorry. Oh geez, Arvin. Quick. Please. Somebody help.” I shouted, not knowing what to do. Halvor ran to Arvin’s side.
“Arvin, let go of your shin. I need to see how bad it is,” pled Halvor.
Arvin moved his hands off his leg and covered his eyes. Halvor examined his bruised and bloody leg. He asked Arvin where it hurt. Arvin showed him. He asked Arvin if he could move his leg. Arvin moved his leg forward and back as his tears stopped flowing.
“It’s a nasty gash, but nothing’s broken. That’s the good news,” Halvor said. “The bad news is you shouldn’t walk on your leg for a few days until the swelling goes down. I’m sorry, but it’s going to be a long, painful trip to the city.”
Iwa ran up with Halvor’s beige bag. She opened it and took out some gauze to bandage Arvin’s bleeding leg.
“What about the volcano?” Arvin asked, calm enough to wipe the tears from his eyes.
“Lost cause, I’m afraid,” Iwa said, shaking her head. Fia and Tarin shook their heads as well, standing at a safe distance from Arvin and me.
“I have an idea about the volcano,” Arvin said.
Halvor picked him up and carried him to the only remaining dome. I opened the hexagon door to let Halvor enter. He laid Arvin on the bed inside and gave Arvin a swig from his canteen. Arvin sipped the cool water as he explained his plan to Halvor and me.
“Perry,” Arvin motioned for me to come over, “you saw how hot the red rock became when you wrapped it in my hair.”
“Yes,” I said, nodding.
“What if we can make it hotter? What if all we need is more of my hair? What if we can make it hot enough to restart a volcano?”
“Arvin, a volcano is kinda’ hot,” I said. “Even if every single hair could make the rock hotter, your plan would require most of your hair – probably all of it.”
“A few tiny leg hairs destroyed the first dome. And a single long hair from my head destroyed the second. All of my hair should be able to restart a volcano. Well, what do you think?” Arvin asked, looking to me and back to Halvor.
Halvor said, “I don’t know anything about magic rocks. I’m a man of science, myself. But I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”
Arvin looked to me. We nodded at each other.
Halvor called to his wife. “Iwa, we need you. Do we have a hunting knife in our bag?”
/> “Sure. Do you need it?” Iwa asked.
“Yes, I’m going to cut off all of Arvin’s hair,” Halvor said, making a silly face at Arvin and me.
“Good thinking, Halvor,” Iwa said, bringing the long knife into the dome. “We don’t want this young man to explode on the way back.”
Halvor said, “We’ve decided to use his hair and the rock to restart the volcano.”
“I see,” Iwa said, crossing her hands across her chest. “Whatever you’re going to do, you’d better do it soon. Fia and Tarin stole the truck along with most of our supplies. We’ll have to hike to the ranger station to resupply.”
“Geez. Some people,” Halvor groaned, looking my way. “They never learn.”
Halvor proceeded to hack away at Arvin’s hair.
“Ouch,” Arvin shouted. “Take it easy. Ouch! Don’t pull so hard. You’re going to cut me.”
“Hal - vor,” Iwa said, taking the sharp serrated knife out of Halvor’s hand. “Stop torturing the poor boy. You know you’re useless with anything but a kitchen knife.”
Iwa held Arvin’s curls in her dainty hands, and with a few painless swipes of the knife, Arvin became a bald chipmunk.
Iwa leaned over Arvin. “See. Not bad,” she said. Iwa blew a few stray hairs off Arvin’s forehead. “I think bald men are quite handsome.”
Arvin looked up at Iwa and grinned. His face turned the color of mom’s “Date Night” lipstick.
We decided Iwa should carry the red rock and Arvin’s hairball up to the volcano’s crater. Arvin was too crippled to walk more than a few steps without yelping in agony. He also needed Halvor to carry him “just in case” burning rocks rained down on us. I wanted to do it, but my banana leaf sandals were torn and useless, sitting on the grass. Painful blisters had started to grow on the soles of my feet making it impossible for me to run at full speed. Anyway, Iwa insisted she was the fastest runner - a skill she’d need if Arvin’s plan worked. Halvor handed Iwa two small bags before she left, one holding the magic rock and the other packed with all of Arvin’s red locks bunched into a large fluffy hairball.
“Iwa, whatever you do, don’t drop the red rock into the hairball until you’re ready to run back to base camp,” I said, warning her one last time.
“Gotcha, P,” Iwa said, heading towards V1’s shallow crater.
Halvor pulled out a pair of black binoculars from his bag, focusing them on Iwa as she became a tiny figure moving in the distance. He called out a football-style play-by-play.
“She’s at the crater. She’s putting the red rock into the hairball. The bag is on fire. She’s throwing it in.”
DING
WHOOSH!
BOOM!
The volcano’s crater cracked open, throwing burning rocks into the air. Iwa ducked, disappearing into a cloud of gas and black smoke.
“Run, Iwa,” shouted Halvor.
“Run, Iwa. Run.” Halvor and I yelled, seeing the bright orange glow of lava through the thick cover of smoke.
“I can’t see her. She’s somewhere in the smoke,” Halvor hollered, worried for his loving wife.
We stood in the clearing for what seemed like an eternity, watching for any sign of Iwa. Arvin managed to stumble to his feet and hobble out of the dome to see what was happening. Iwa emerged from the rolling smoke, bounding down the slope, over the sharp rocks, across the cooled lava field, and straight into Halvor’s open arms. We all circled around, hugging, dancing, and cheering.
“Perry,” Arvin winced in pain, “can we stop dancing?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, Arvin,” I said, turning down our excitement a notch or two.
Halvor examined his wife, taking care to bandage burns on her face and hands. Iwa looked past Halvor, stretching out a hand towards the hazy sky beyond the volcanos.
“I think we can go,” she said, pointing to a twinkling light in the distance. “The lights are coming back on.”
We all turned our heads in the direction of Iwa’s outstretched arm. I saw one twinkle, and another, and a few more. All at once, thousands of multicolored lights came alive, flashing up and down, filling out the shapes of rectangular skyscrapers concealed within the dense fog.
“Wow,” I said out loud, staring in wonder as dozens of dim silhouettes burst with light.
“Wow, indeed,” said Arvin.
“We’d better go,” Halvor said. “We need to get to the ranger station before nightfall. I want to avoid stepping in any snake holes and fire ant hills.”
We followed the path for two hours, being careful to avoid the snake holes and fire ant hills Halvor had mentioned. Halvor carried Arvin all the way, only putting him down to rest, share in his scant emergency rations, or take a sip of water from his canteen. We reached a small circular clearing in the woods as the sun’s light was starting to fade. The ranger station was unimpressive; it was a little windowless brown shack sitting on a bare spot in the woods. Iwa said it would have crucial supplies we’d need to make it the rest of the way. Halvor sat Arvin down on a small flat boulder among the pine trees.
“Where’s Iwa?” I asked, seeing she’d gone off on her own.
“Oh, she’s picking out something special for you,” Halvor said with a sly smile. “No worries. She’ll be right back.”
Iwa returned to the ranger station carrying four long shiny poles in her arms. “Arvin, I’ve brought you and Perry gifts. They’re walking sticks made of petrified wood. Each one is as ancient as that volcano but not as dangerous.” She turned to Halvor. “Help me show them.”
Halvor took a walking stick in each hand and waved them around in the light.
“Aren’t they lovely? We’ll need these if we’re going to hike all the way out,” said Iwa. “Choose your favorite, Arvin.”
Arvin examined each piece of petrified wood in detail. “They’re beautiful. But why do I get to pick first?”
“You gave us your magic rock and all your wonderful red hair. It’s only fair.”
“That’s kind of you, but let Perry choose. Neither of us has had good luck making decisions this week.” Arvin lowered his bald head and, with both thumbs and index fingers, lifted the frayed bottom of his muumuu to examine his bloody bandage. “The next magical gewgaw will probably kill us all.”
Halvor chimed in with his opinion. “Who said they’re magic walking sticks? Sometimes a stick is a stick, Arv.”
Iwa crooked her neck to one side, sneering at Halvor like Mom does at me, puckering her lips, scrunching her nose, and raising her left eyebrow in the scariest face I’ve seen since the blonde dragon. She snatched the walking sticks away from Halvor and turned her attention back to Arvin. She reached out with her slim leg and tapped her boot on Arvin’s barefoot. “Listen, Arvin. People make bad choices. It happens. But make your own decisions before someone else makes them for you.” She turned, walking towards me. “If you’re under a spell, you should look for whoever is responsible. That’s my five cents.”
Iwa walked up to me, stepping lightly not to injure my blistered feet any further. She presented the colorful assortment of petrified wood walking sticks, holding them in a bundle for me to choose from.
“Go ahead, Perry. Choose one for yourself and for Arvin. Do it before we lose the light,” Iwa said.
The walking sticks were as beautiful as she said. Each had a unique look to it: a brown one, an orange one, a green one, and a black one. Thin and wide tree rings circled and swirled around ancient dark knots under the gloss of their polished exterior.
“Which one should I choose?” I asked, looking to Arvin for advice. He was sitting on the rock, fiddling around with his bulky bandage.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Arvin, as I reached out to choose one. “At this rate, I’ll bleed to death before we make it out of the woods.”
“How about the orange one?” Iwa suggested. “It looks somewhat dull compared to the others, but when the moonlight hits it, it twinkles as bright as any star in the night sky.
“I’ll do something
different this time,” I said.
I closed my eyes, reached out my hand, and pulled a walking stick from the bundle. I opened my eyes to see I had chosen the brown one for me. I took the green one for Arvin; it reminded me of his missing pool noodle. They felt smooth and heavy in my hands.
“I like those, too,” Halvor said. “They look great in any light.”
I took the walking sticks over to show Arvin. “They’re nice walking sticks,” Arvin said. “The green one looks like my eyes and the brown one looks like a frosty fudge popsicle. If it’s another magic gewgaw, maybe we’ll meet the Candy King.” He giggled at his own joke.
I couldn’t help but smile a little, too. I didn’t understand how Arvin could keep up his spirits with blood flowing from under his bandage onto his foot.
“Go on. Get a good feel for them before the sun sets. You’re going to need to know how to use them,” Iwa insisted.
Arvin used his walking stick to pull himself up onto one foot and hobble to me on the other. He lifted his head and steadied his body to get a glimpse of my stick. I held onto one end of the long walking stick, waving it around like a sword in the vanishing daylight. Its shiny glass-smooth surface caught a faint glimmer of twilight, sending brilliant sparkles flashing into our eyes.
“Aren’t they beautiful, boys?” Iwa said. “Strong, too.”
“They’re great,” Arvin said, thanking Iwa for the gifts, “but can we go soon? My leg is getting worse.”
“Thanks, Iwa, but we should get Arvin some medicine,” I said, looking up to see Iwa and Halvor were gone. “Arvin, where are we?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mud Monsters
“Well,” I said, looking over Arvin’s bald head, “we’re not home.”
Arvin crooked his pale, bald head to the side and squealed. “Mud! Lots of it!”
“What luck,” I said, “maybe we’ll see how quickly quicksand actually works.”
We had appeared smack-dab in the middle of a big mudflat. I blocked the sun with my hand and looked to the distant horizon. A sea of glistening mud stretched out in every direction as far as I could see. It stopped to meet the blue sky in the distance.