The Gewgaws Adventure

by C. M. Bacon

  But Arvin didn’t cry, nor did he curl like a roly-poly. Arvin stood up, wiped the dirt off his silk clothes, and looked me straight in the eyes. The glint of determination and strength I had seen burning in his eyes in the dungeon was gone, replaced by the seething hatred he felt towards me at that moment.

  “Arvin, I’m sorry,” I pleaded. “I didn’t mean it.”

  “Perry, your dad treated me like his own son - like we were brothers. After he died, you abandoned me. Then Mom sent me away. So I win - times four. Shove that up your butt, Mr. Observant.”

  Arvin walked past me, pushing me aside. Reentering the main cave, he sat quietly against the cedar box at the far end. It was the darkest spot available, darker than the dungeon cell corner he emerged from a few days before. The silent man followed after. He signed something to his wife and sat by the fire, rubbing his icy hands over the flames. Nobody made any attempt to communicate with me for the rest of the evening. The pale, silent man and his wife slept by the fire with their baby. I fell asleep two feet from the fire using a small log as a pillow. Arvin didn’t move from his spot, nor did he sleep as far as I know. He stared at me from the back of the cave, his “evil eye” burning a hole right through to my black soul. I deserved every second of it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Out of the Dark

  I woke up in a blast of freezing air and blinding light as the silent man returned from gathering wood, slamming and latching the heavy door behind him. Like the day before, he didn’t find much and what he found was difficult to light. The bag of figs was not by my side, and Arvin was not in the corner where I had left him. I was about to ask the silent man when I heard digging sounds echoing from the garden cave.

  I stumbled in the darkness as the quiet man tried to rekindle the fire, hearing SCRATCH-SCRATCH as I entered the other cave. Arvin and the woman were there, sitting on their knees, hands digging holes in the dirt under the light of the cave’s high opening. I could tell they had been doing it for a while. Twenty little mounds popped up like mole hills in the soil. Next to Arvin, the blue silk bag was empty of all but three of the figs we’d collected. He dug two holes, took one fig out of the bag, ripped it in half, and planted the halves in the holes.

  “Arvin,” I said, “what are you doing?”

  “Planting a garden with my new friend. What does it look like?” he said, refusing to face me.

  “I can see that. Why are you planting our figs? We won’t have any more food.”

  “If you’ll remember, Mr. Observant, Sophia told you ‘the figs will grow in the hottest, coldest, or driest of places’.”

  “You think they’re gewgaws?”

  “It’s worth trying. You’re so kind and generous, I didn’t think you’d mind taking a chance to help these people. It’s better than saving worms from sidewalks, right?”

  I hope I had learned when to shut up and when to listen. “You’re right. Of course.”

  “So tell me about the brown red-bellied snake,” Arvin said. “I saw one a few times, but I didn’t think it was the same one.”

  I sat next to Arvin, helping him dig new holes in the dirt as we talked.

  “At first, I didn’t think much of it. I know snakes live on tropical islands and in forests, but something was odd about the snake in the mudflat. It coiled around the mulberry bush and hissed at me. I got the feeling it wanted to tell me something. Sonia and Sophia told us about the great serpent that bit Majesty 12th, and they heard a snake hiss in our cell the same morning. Siria said she heard it hissing in the catacombs, too.”

  “But Siria had a nervous breakdown. She was seeing and hearing things.”

  “I know, but what if everything wasn’t in her head? What if she saw through the magic?”

  “Sounds like a theory,” Arvin said, trying not to dismiss me outright.

  “But there’s something else I haven’t shown you.” I pulled Dad’s strange coin out of my silk pants pocket. “See, here. The twisty-twirly writing around the edge.”

  “It’s a beautiful coin with some very weird writing.” I knew he was disappointed I hadn’t shared Dad’s final gewgaw with him.

  “It isn’t writing,” I said.

  “What is it?” asked Arvin, his interest piqued.

  “Remember the mudflat snake? The twisty-twirly path it made in the mud?”

  “Yes. It was looping around and over itself again and again.”

  I handed Arvin the coin to examine in the cave’s dim light. “Look closer at the coin. Do you see it?”

  “I see the silver side, the black side, the hole in the center, and the twisty-twirly looping lines. What am I supposed to be looking for?”

  “Look at the path of the twisty-twirly looping lines. Do you see a beginning or an end?”

  “I don’t --” Arvin became very quiet.

  “Do you see it now?” I asked.

  “I see it,” Arvin said. “You’re right. It isn’t writing at all. It’s a long twisty-twirly snake crisscrossing itself all around the edge of the coin. Look, there’s its head at the end of its long body.”

  “Exactly. That snake is somehow involved in all of this. I’m not sure how. But if I’m right, we’ll see or hear that snake again before we leave this place.”

  “I’ll keep an eye open,” said Arvin, turning back to dig another hole. “You said something about King 974th?”

  “He had your face, Arvin. In the mudflat, you said you’d ‘make me sorry’ for taunting you. Majesty 974th made us both sorry we ever found those stupid bones.”

  “You found the bones, Perry. You don’t think I had something to do with that, do you?”

  “Not directly. I think we need to be more careful what we say or think.”

  “Okay. Let’s both be careful. I don’t want to end up on the moon next time.”

  Arvin showed a half-smile and returned to digging.

  In our conversation about the figs, the snake, and 974th, we silently agreed to start over again. We knew where to strike if we wanted to hurt each other. If ever there was a time for “Mutually Assured Destruction,” Arvin and I would be the experts to call. The woman, Arvin, and I finished planting the figs, melted some snow in three different flasks from the silent man’s trunk, and watered the holes where we’d buried the figs.

  “Now we wait and see,” said Arvin, watering the last of the figs.

  I nodded. “Now we wait and see.”

  Five hours later, nothing was happening. Nothing was growing except the cold in our bones as the fire began to lose its heat. The silent man went out to find more twigs and branches, leaving his wife and baby balled up in their animal skins. Arvin and I grabbed a few more skins from the cedar box, sticking our heads through holes like ponchos and wrapping others around us like blankets. I placed the flasks by the dwindling coals to melt the snow into water. I heard the heavy cave door unlatch and begin to creak. I put the warm flask in my pocket.

  The heavy door swung open, sending a deadly cold wind and bright white light into the cave. Our pale friend slammed the door and secured the latch. He brought back a single stick of firewood this time. It was barely large enough to burn for an hour. The fire was dying, and there wasn’t any way to restart it. Through a blur of arms, hands, and fingers, he told as much to his wife.

  “What about the figs?” I asked, turning to Arvin.

  “Even if they grow here, without fire, the family won’t survive long enough to eat them,” said Arvin. “We have to find a way to keep the fire going. If only we had more dry wood or even my report card.” He smiled.

  “I don’t have wood, and I forgot my report card at home,” I said, “but I have a little bit of paper.”

  I pulled out the five-dollar bill Mom gave me for lunch at the Shelby Lane Pool. “This will burn for at least a few seconds. Maybe it’ll help light the branch on fire. I’ll do it.”

  “No,” Arvin said, “I’ll do it.”

  Arvin took the five-dollar bill out of my hand, put on the biggest
dorky smile he could, and walked up to our pale friend. Holding out his upturned palm, he glanced between the fire and the frost-covered branch in the albino’s hand. The silent man mimicked his dramatic expression, reached into his furball, and gave Arvin a flit rod and steel knife.

  “Arvin, are you sure you want to do this?” I asked.

  “I have to,” he said, walking to the fading embers, sitting the last log across them.

  Arvin laid the five-dollar bill under the tiny branch and struck at the flint rod, sending a spark onto Abraham Lincoln’s thin green face. The spark hit and died, charring only a tiny speck of Abe’s beard.

  SCRATCH-SCRATCH

  Arvin tried.

  SCRATCH-SCRATCH

  Nothing happened.

  “Light, stupid fire,” Arvin said, talking to the image of Abraham Lincoln as he stuck the flint rod again and again. “I don’t want to be cold anymore. I don’t want to be scared anymore. Give me fire, now!”

  SCRATCH-SCRATCH

  WOOSH!

  The five-dollar bill caught fire. Flames spread over Abe’s beard, over the seals, numbers, and signatures, and crept onto the thin branch. It was as if the flames were seeking out what they wanted most, becoming a roaring fire as more of the branch came into its hot grasp. The letters V.O.L.C.A.N.O sizzled on the tip of my tongue as the flames stretched high up into the cave, scorching the rocky black ceiling. The sudden change from frozen rock to red-hot stone cracked the ceiling, sending tiny bits of rock and dust into the flames. We backed away towards the garden cave, stepping onto the dirt as the intense heat penetrated into the surrounding rocks. I looked over at Arvin, who, for a moment, looked as though he was about to regret burning his own fire-phobia in the flames. The heat filled the cave, warmed the walls, and melted the frost on the cave’s dirt floor.

  “Wah!” the silent man gasped, giving a partial voice to the silent albino. His hands furiously moved circling and pointing to the floor.

  I looked down, seeing a little seedling pop up from one mound, another and another, and so on. All the fig bushes were growing like the fire. This was not black magic. This was the greatest kind of magic. The fig bushes matured in less than thirty seconds. Flowers bloomed at forty-five, and large iridescent sparkling white figs were ripe in under sixty. The lush bushes towered over our heads, reaching up to absorb the light above. The fire died down to a faint glow as Abe became ash.

  Our beating hearts became the only sound as the howling blizzard died with the fire. The albino unlatched the cave door, pushing it open, peering into the white world. A warm yellow glow struck his pure white face as it pushed its way through the slight opening he’d made. The sunlight lit up his hair and face like the flames had done the previous night. He paused, looking out the door.

  “What is it?” I asked, making my best “I’m an idiot” confused face and shrugged shoulders.

  The silent man turned around and swung open the door. Bright, warm sunlight poured into the cave as a warm breeze followed, extinguishing the last tiny ember on the log. He stepped out of the cave. We all followed to see what else the magic had done.

  “Perry, did you know we were on a farm?” Arvin asked, looking around.

  “Nope. Not a clue,” I said, seeing rows upon rows of fig bushes stretching into the distance, bursting with thousands of ripe white figs. So much was behind us now: a grassy hill, the cave underneath, the albino family, and a lot of pain and anger. Those feelings remained in the darkness behind.

  Birds chirped throughout the rows of fig bushes. The sunlight, warm and inviting, shined on everything and everyone. I raised my head up and tilted it back, feeling the sun warm my cheeks.

  “Where’d you get the money?” Arvin asked.

  “Mom gave it to me to pay for lunch at the pool,” I said, wondering how the money got to be a magical gewgaw.

  Arvin walked into the fig bush fields. “Remember to thank your mom for the lunch money.”

  I shouted towards our albino friends. “Are you ok over there?” I heard the rustle of branches as figs were plucked and eaten one after another.

  Perry and I walked down another row of fig bushes, plucking white figs from their branches and stuffing our faces like we hadn’t eaten in days. I felt something cold in my pocket, like a tiny ball of ice stuck in the silk folds. It wasn’t the flask; that was in my other pocket, still warm from the fire. I reached into my pocket and lifted the coin into the light. Arvin looked at me holding the coin.

  “Didn’t it have a single one hole in the middle?” he asked. “How did it grow a second hole side-by-side with the first?”

  “Let’s call it magic,” I said, accepting I won’t always know the Truth of things. I took the flask from my pocket and took a nice swig of the crisp, clean water.

  “Gif nee som,” Arvin said, his mouth full of figs. Arvin held out his hand.

  “If you want to say ‘Give me some,’ at least try to talk without figs in your mouth,” I said. I took another sip of water and tossed the flask over to Arvin.

  He caught it and took a swig, too. “Pawee, duh sake,” he said, pointing to the base of the fig tree, dropping the flask onto the ground.

  A long brown red-bellied snake coiled around the base of a fig bush, hissing at us both. Arvin took a step forward with me to confront our slithering stalker.

  I looked the snake right in its beady red eyes. “Whatever you are, whatever you want, stop it now. We don’t want to fight you, but we will.”

  “Exactly,” Arvin said. “A battle of man versus beast.”

  BOOSH!

  A loud explosion blew us backwards ten feet through the fig bushes, engulfing us in a cloud of black smoke and debris.

  “Ok, Mr. Snake,” Arvin said, sitting up again, “how about a truce instead of a --”

  VREEEEEE

  I heard a whistling sound coming towards us. “Arvin?”

  BOOSH!

  Another explosion shot debris into the air, blowing us onto our backs. Burning rocks rained down on us. Our thick pelts acted like bulletproof vests, saving our lives.

  “Happy birthday, Arvin,” I said. “Now, Run!”

  As we ran, Arvin yelled, “Thanks, Mr. Observant.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Man vs. Beast

  Arvin and I fled through the smoke toward a three-foot wall.

  POK

  VREEEEEE

  BOOSH!

  Another explosion threw burning debris against our backs. It spun us like tops, whirling around on the tips of our toes, crashing backs-first onto bits of rubble all over the ground. Our furry pelts ignited on contact with the burning debris.

  “Help! I’m on fire! Get it off!” said Arvin, hollering.

  “Stop, drop, and roll,” I said, repeating the only part of the school fire safety drill I could remember.

  The explosion made us stop and drop. But the weight of the burning pelts prevented me from rolling over. I looked like a turtle on its back. Thick smoke and the sickening smell of burning fur engulfed us. Seawater splashed on my face as I fought against the weight of the pelts. It drenched the fur and put out the flames, making me hope it was another Iwa and Halvor coming to rescue us. Arvin hollered from under a dozen smoldering layers.

  “Help!” he said, shouting over the sound of falling debris and spraying water.

  “Arvin, the fire’s out. Can you roll over? I’m stuck on my back.”

  “I think so.” Arvin rolled to the left and rolled to the right, then left, then right again. It was no use. “It’s too heavy. Can you pull yourself out?”

  “I’ll try.”

  I scraped my silk-slippered heels on the ground. I caught the left one on a piece of rubble and the right one in its matching hole. I raised my arms above my head and pulled with my heels like a tow cable. The sound of the silk tunic and pants slipping through the wet pelts made a nasty SLARP. My wet head passed between the layers of poncho-like holes, followed by my arms and hands from the sides. I could hear the PLOP-PLOP of
large water drops hitting as I pulled myself down and out of my coats. My legs came out, then stomach, then chest, and finally my head slid out from the soggy tunnel with a squishy SLARP-SLAP as it collapsed into a steaming pile on the ground. I bent down over Arvin’s blue silk slippers and grabbed hold of his ankles.

  “Raise your hands above your head and don’t kick me.” With three strong heaves and a loud SLARP-SLAP, Arvin was free of his soggy pelts, standing next to me.

  “Incoming!” a man shouted from behind the short wall. “Run!”

  I’d seen enough war movies to know what he meant. I grabbed Arvin’s hand and dragged him deeper into the smoke towards the voice. Arvin was right on my heels. As we reached the wall, there was a loud POK and then another high-pitched VREEEEEEE flying through the smoky air straight towards us.

  “They’re shooting at us,” I yelled, lunging towards the wall.

  “Who are they? I can’t see through the smoke,” Arvin said, vaulting over large pieces of debris.

  “Jump!” I hit the wall at full speed, catapulting myself over the charred wall.

  Arvin slammed into the wall at his chest. Pulling himself up onto his stomach, he swung both legs over and landed next to me on a slab of concrete. We ducked hands-over-heads as another explosion blew debris into the air and over the wall.

  “This way.” We turned our heads to see a muscular man in green and gray camouflage waving to us from the rusty door he was holding open. “Run!”

  POK

  Another missile was launched, soaring through the air.

  VREEEEEEE

  “Go. Go. Go,” Arvin said, becoming a hole in the smoke, disappearing into the dark passageway.

  I ran behind and passed under through the thick doorframe into a bunker, safe from the blast and debris. The man entered last, slamming the door as another explosion shook the bunker sending flakes of rusted iron onto our heads.