Enter a Glossy Web

by McKenna Ruebush

  They both grinned, but Caleb tromped into the center of the mud puddle. “Let’s do this.”

  George marched after him and crossed her arms over her chest. She closed her eyes and counted to nine. She could feel the mud starting to sink into her shoes.

  “Come on, Mikal. You need to be here too. There aren’t any parasites,” Caleb said.

  Mikal wrinkled his nose as he stepped into the water, and George hid a smile.

  They stood in a little circle, and nothing happened.

  “Maybe it has to get to know us first?” Mikal said. “It might not like strangers either.”

  “Okay, puddle,” George said as she shifted awkwardly. “We’re not strangers, and we’re intending really, really hard. Aaand now I’m talking to a mud puddle.”

  Absolutely nothing happened.

  George threw up her arms and started to mutter something about crazy old women and their silly stories. Before the words had even left her mouth, there was a whoosh like a toilet flushing, and her feet dropped out from under her.

  Nothing was left as evidence of the trio’s departure except for tiny ripples on the dark surface of the water.

  * * *

  The children landed with a thud.

  Mikal yelped and threw his arms around Caleb’s legs, causing Caleb to topple over onto his side.

  “Heavens to Betsy,” George said, her breath escaping in a cloud of white. The air was chill and damp with fog, and she rubbed her arms for warmth. She held out a hand to help Caleb up as she looked around in a daze.

  “You can say that again,” Caleb said as he disentangled himself from Mikal, who was crouched down with his eyes tightly shut. “You have got to see this, Mikal.”

  “No, I don’t. I’m just fine not seeing it. I can’t look. I just can’t!”

  “Yes, you can, Mikal,” George said. “You thought you couldn’t help us read the Hag’s spell, but you did. You’re getting braver. You can look.”

  Mikal hesitated but then gave in, and his mouth fell open.

  The children were floating through an enormous underground tunnel as wide as a football field and so long there seemed no end to it. Narrow passages forked off here and there, and traffic lights blinked green and red. Sailing promptly along, on every side of the children, were doors suspended in midair. They were of all shapes and colors, and they lay flat, with their knobs and handles facing up. There were wooden garden gates and old cellar doors, metal garage doors and pretty yellow pantry doors, glass doors and red church doors. They drifted by in an orderly fashion, all levitating over a shimmering silver mist through which the children could not see the ground.

  They were startled to see that they themselves were balanced precariously on a solid oak hatch that must have once belonged to an attic.

  George inhaled deeply and then let it out with a whoosh. “Do you smell that? It’s like rain on hot pavement … and … oranges? Do you smell oranges?”

  But the boys were too busy staring to answer her.

  Upon various portals people and creatures perched, oblivious to the children. Some of these looked just like the sort of person you’d see at a supermarket, others looked like animals wearing costumes, but still others were threatening and unkempt. The latter hunkered down under long dark coats and watched with glittering eyes from behind lank and dirty hair.

  Just then a man sped past, shouting at the top of his lungs, “I need to get to the haberdashery! We’re going to be late!” But he could barely be heard over the clamor of traffic and the sounds of bells ringing, whistles blowing, and passengers hollering directions.

  George saw that on either side of the main thoroughfare were even more doorways, and these at least had the decency to stand up in a normal fashion. They were not floating like the horizontal portals but seemed to stay in one place. Above each was a sign with the dimension, destination, date, and arrival time of the advertised location.

  Caleb nudged George with his elbow and pointed at a dark blue door with a sign above it that read, 3RD DIMENSION, LOCH NESS, SCOTLAND, THURSDAY, APRIL 5, 4:32 PM DWT. Below it was a flashing advisory: Please use extreme caution. Nessie is in a foul mood today and has already eaten three fishermen and two tourists. And then, Body count for April 5: 5. It has been 0 days since an incident.

  Mikal swallowed hard and pressed close to his friends.

  The children came to an intersection where they stopped for a traffic light. A garden gate carrying a funny-looking man with a miniature pet elephant pulled up beside them. George waved uncertainly, and the old man waved back. So did his elephant.

  “Excuse me!” George said.

  “Yes? May I help you?” the man asked.

  “Could you please tell me how to reach the Mapmaker’s District?”

  “Indeed I can,” he said, but then the light changed and his ride pulled away so fast they couldn’t hear his instructions.

  “Great, now what?” George asked.

  “You could have just asked me,” a sullen voice muttered from beneath them. “I mean, I am the one driving.”

  “What was that?” Mikal asked nervously, looking around.

  “It was me, you ridiculous child!” And the voice was coming from the keyhole of the door they balanced upon.

  Mikal was relieved that it was just a keyhole speaking, for he’d never met a bad keyhole, but George was so shocked that she stumbled backward, nearly falling into the mist. Mikal and Caleb grabbed the sleeves of her coat and hauled her back on.

  “Ex-excuse me?” George asked. “Did you say something?”

  “Yes! I said you could have asked me! Instead of just pretending I’m not even here. Children, these days. So rude.”

  “I’m very sorry,” George said. “But I didn’t know you were … alive? Are you alive?”

  “How dare you. Of course I’m alive. Get off me at once. I won’t take you another—”

  “I didn’t mean to insult you!” George said desperately. “I’ve just never met a talking door. We’ve never been here before.”

  “Never been here, eh? This is your first time? Fine. I accept your apology. I’ll take you to the Mapmaker. But I’m not as young as I used to be! Can some of you please get off me before you smother me to death? You’re heavy!”

  “Hurry, we’re hurting it,” Mikal said.

  “The little one can stay,” the door said. “I like him.”

  “I’m eleven,” Mikal muttered, but he stayed put.

  George looked around and saw that several empty portals were traveling in the same direction as they. “I’m going to get on one of those, okay?”

  “And I’m going to take that one,” Caleb said, carefully jumping onto a cedar door.

  “Wipe your feet,” it snapped at him, the scent of cedar wafting from its frame.

  “But you don’t have a mat,” Caleb said, and there was no reply.

  George very cautiously stepped onto a white door.

  “Hello there! It’s such a pleasure to have you with us!” the white door said.

  George looked around nervously. “Well … it’s a pleasure to be here!”

  “Where can I take you on this fine day?” White Door asked.

  “We’re going to the Mapmaker’s District, please,” George said.

  “Swell. I’ll have you there in a jiffy. Did I overhear you say that this was your first time in the Door Way?”

  “The Door Way?” George asked.

  “Look around you. This is the Door Way, the labyrinth of tunnels people use to get from world to world. The official name is the Xyla, but nobody calls it that.”

  “Oh, okay. Yes, you did overhear that.”

  “My goodness! I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting a newbie before. Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Yes, thank you, but it’s quite a shock. I never knew you could ride doors,” George said.

  “Oh my, then let me be the first to tell you that you can’t call us that. It just isn’t polite.”

  “What wo
uld you like me to call you?”

  “I’m a Tourie!” White Door said proudly. “All of us that are moving around are Touries. We’re mobile, not like the ones that stand still.”

  Caleb tried to maneuver his door closer to George’s so he could hear their conversation.

  It grumbled and objected, bucking around a bit before scooting in close to White Door.

  “What’s the name for the ones that stand still?” Caleb asked.

  “Them? They’re Moors. And they are booorring. They’re just stuck where they’re built. They don’t do much good for anybody except as entry points. But we Touries, we’re special. We spend our lives going back and forth and thither and yon. We can go anywhere we want. We carry important people to special events and get to meet all kinds of interesting strangers. Why, just this morning I carried a very sinister chap—”

  “You’re such a gossip. Always telling tales,” Caleb’s cedar door said.

  “It’s not my fault! They asked!” White Door said.

  “You’re going to get us fired,” Cedar Door said.

  “Are you looking for a particular Mapmaker, or will any do?” Mikal’s oak door asked, interrupting the spat.

  “We were only told to find the Mapmaker,” Mikal said.

  “THE Mapmaker? Why didn’t you say so!” White Door said.

  They continued on, finally coming to a stop in front of a yellow door labeled 3RD DIMENSION, THURSDAY, APRIL 5, 4:45 PM DWT, PHINNEUS NEPTUNE.

  Mikal was the first to ease off his Tourie, his knees wobbling a bit on the solid doorstep.

  “All these Moors have the same letters above them, the DWT. What’s it mean?” Caleb asked.

  “It means Door Way Time. Now get off me,” Cedar Door said.

  “Okay, okay,” Caleb said. He climbed onto the platform and offered a hand to George.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she called to the retreating Touries.

  Mikal was holding his stomach and looking a bit green around the edges.

  George paused for a moment to take off her raincoat and pack it away. “Three for backpack, four for Caleb, five for Mikal. Nothing’s missing.”

  Caleb raised a silver eyebrow. “You ever gonna tell us what number one and two were?”

  She ignored him and rang the doorbell.

  Mikal rose up on his tiptoes to peek through the peephole and jumped back immediately as an enormous eye peered back at him.

  The door still didn’t open.

  “There’s somebody in there,” Mikal said.

  “I should hope so,” George said.

  “Maybe we should wipe our feet?” Mikal asked.

  Before they could do as he suggested, the door swung inward.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The children stepped warily through Mr. Phinneus Neptune’s door and found themselves within a cluttered study. Maps and charts adorned the walls, globes sat on various surfaces, and books were piled high on the floor.

  A hairy little man was peeking at them from behind a stack of encyclopedias as tall as he. He wore an elaborate silk dinner jacket over plaid pants and a striped shirt. Around his neck was a blue tie decorated with longitude and latitude lines, and his watery blue eyes were made huge by a pair of thick glasses. His hands and face were covered in dark brown hair, but his head was so bald the children could see their reflections in it.

  “H-hello there. You wouldn’t happen to be the Snaffleharp youth, would you?”

  “Yes. Well, I am, at least,” George said, peering around the pile of books.

  “What about those other two? Who might they be?” he asked as he shoved the glasses higher up on his nose.

  “We’re her friends,” Caleb said.

  “Oh, I see, I see. Of course you are.” He sighed with relief and eased out of his hiding spot. “I’ve been expecting you. I just wanted to be sure it was you.”

  “What were you hiding from, if you don’t mind my asking?” George asked curiously.

  Mikal looked at the man, his face suspicious. “I think that the better question is, why was he expecting us?”

  “Both very valid questions, to be sure, and I will get to them eventually, but please, first allow me the pleasure of introducing myself.” At this he threw back his shoulders, and his chest swelled pompously. “I am Phinneus Neptune, distinguished author of more than seventy-three books in thirteen worlds and counting, as well as Mapmaker Extraordinaire. I provide services to those as esteemed as kings and queens, but most importantly, to the Timekeeper himself. Oh, and I do a fair bit of computer programming too.”

  “What sort of books do you write?” Caleb asked.

  “And why haven’t we ever heard of you if you’re a famous author?” George asked.

  “All kinds of books! Books on everything from the migratory patterns of the Bawlizanian Sun Gnat to the current whereabouts of Alexander the Great. And as for the second question—”

  “I think you just answered the second question,” Mikal said.

  “Ahem.” Phinneus Neptune cleared his throat, frowning at Mikal. “As for why you haven’t heard of me, well, my books are far too advanced for mere children.”

  “Mere children, huh?” Caleb said quietly.

  George offered her hand to the little man. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Neptune. I’m George.”

  Mr. Neptune grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously before gesturing to the boys. “And who might these young fellows be?”

  Caleb extended his hand to Mr. Neptune. “Caleb.”

  Mr. Neptune shook Caleb’s hand and looked at Mikal.

  Mikal crossed his arms over his chest and glared back through narrowed eyes.

  “Not very friendly, are you?” Mr. Neptune said with a strained laugh.

  “He doesn’t care for strangers,” George said, stepping closer to Mikal.

  But Mr. Neptune had lost interest. “Now, where did I put that list?”

  Mikal watched the man as Caleb and George inspected the many charts and maps.

  “Here it is!” Mr. Neptune pulled a tiny scroll of parchment from where it had been stuck behind his ear. “Oh, please! Don’t touch that!” he cried as George began to spin a globe.

  “Yikes, sorry.” She slapped her hand onto it to stop its movement.

  Mr. Neptune cringed as he hurried to its rescue. “It’s quite all right. This is just a very rare piece. Why, it could spin off its axis at any moment and BANG!” He slammed his hands together so loudly they all jumped in surprise. “It would disintegrate into dust!” He dabbed at it delicately with a white silk handkerchief. “Yes indeed, very fragile this piece is.”

  “What planet is it supposed to be?” George asked.

  “The earth, of course,” Mr. Neptune said.

  “It doesn’t look like the earth to me,” Mikal said.

  “That’s because it’s a representation of the earth as it was when Pangaea was intact. Don’t they teach you anything in school these days? Imagine!”

  “Pangaea?” George asked.

  “You know, before the continents split. There was just one big one,” Caleb said, studying the orb, his hands deep in his pockets.

  Mr. Neptune beamed at Caleb. “I see we have at least one scholar here. Marvelous!”

  “How did you know that?” George asked.

  “I can read,” Caleb said with a bashful grin.

  Mikal had been edging nearer to get a better look.

  Mr. Neptune noticed him and stepped aside. “If you look riiiight here,” he said, turning the globe gently and pointing with the tip of his index finger, “this is where you three are from. Or at least, that’s where you would have been from before Pangaea split.”

  Mikal now stepped forward eagerly, nudging Caleb out of the way in his excitement. “What about Russia? Where would it be?”

  “This blue area right here,” Mr. Neptune said, pointing to an area near the top. “Have you ever been there?”

  Mikal just shrugged.

  George tilted her head to the sid
e. “I wonder where the Hag is now. Her house doesn’t seem to stay in one place.”

  “Now, that’s a curious thing! A better question would be ‘Where are the worlds?’ In relation to Chrone Cottage, that is, the Hag’s home.”

  “What do you mean?” Caleb asked.

  “As the girl said, Chrone Cottage doesn’t always stay in the same place. But that’s complicated. It isn’t the Hag’s home that’s moving. It’s the worlds.”

  The children stared at him uncomprehendingly.

  “Ahem. Well, you see, if you lightly place your finger here where Russia would be, and then you spin the globe, your finger stays exactly where you put it. However, when the globe comes to a stop, it’s very likely that your finger will be pointing to a different location than Russia!” He demonstrated this, watching them to make sure they understood.

  “She’s always in the same place. It’s just the worlds that are moving,” Caleb said.

  “Yes! Snaffleharp Lane is another one of these peculiar locations that seem to have developed minds of their own and are often inaccessible through the Door Way. They can move about at will. Speaking of, how did you enjoy your first time? You were careful not to get separated, I hope. The Drifters can be dangerous if they find you alone.”

  “The Drifters, are they those mean-looking people we saw in the tunnels?” Mikal asked.

  “Yes, I suppose mean-looking might describe them.”

  “We didn’t get separated,” George said.

  “I thought the whole thing was pretty sweet,” Caleb said. “Kind of like how I imagine surfing would be.”

  “I get doorsick,” Mikal said sadly.

  “It is a phenomenal creation,” Mr. Neptune said. “The Engineer designed it all very brilliantly. All you need to access it is a mud puddle and a raincoat—”

  “That’s what the raincoats were for?” George asked.

  Mr. Neptune frowned at this interruption. “As I was saying, it really is quite ingenious. The Engineer had a very difficult time configuring a process that would perfect interworld travel, until he thought up the Door Way. Time machines had so many glitches that anytime a person used one, he could very likely come out the other side with a goldfish for a head. Why, there was this one time—”