Albert of Adelaide

by Howard Anderson

  The fire engulfed the Gates of Hell in a matter of minutes, and the shingles on the roof began to glow. Inside the building, the fire reached the store of signal rockets and they began going off. Some flew skyward through the burning shingles; others shot through windows and burning siding to skitter along the ground and explode somewhere in the darkness of Hell or to shoot into the boulder field and ricochet into the night of Old Australia. Flaming debris from the Gates of Hell blew into the sky, and the wind carried it across the desert as far as they could see.

  Not far in the distance, Albert could hear the dingoes eating Bertram. The noise didn’t bother him as much as it did when he had heard them eating O’Hanlin. But then, Albert had never cared much for Bertram.

  31

  The Distant Mountain

  Albert watched TJ and the two dingoes climb a low hill not far from where they had parted company. If it wasn’t for the blue bandana TJ had tied around his head, Albert would have had difficulty telling him apart from his companions.

  They had left the last encampment at daybreak. Two young dingoes had come with them—not for any real purpose, just for something to do. The day was cool and the walking was easy. The mountain was still there on the horizon, seeming no closer than it had ever been. Before the sun was very high in the morning sky they came to the edge of Hell and the dingoes would go no farther. There were no markers on the desert floor to indicate that one patch of ground was different from another one a few feet away, but the dingoes knew that this was where their world ended.

  The three old friends had stood on the edge of a new world and said good-bye to each other for the last time. In turn, TJ shook Jack’s and Albert’s paws.

  “You boys take care of yourselves, and if you ever meet anybody else from California, you buy them a drink with the compliments of Terrance James Walcott.”

  “We’ll do that,” Jack replied.

  TJ smiled.

  “Well, Albert, we can’t say it hasn’t been interesting, can we?”

  “No we can’t, TJ, and that’s for sure,” Albert said. “Good luck in the piracy business.”

  “And good luck to you, my friend.”

  TJ turned and began jogging back the way they had come. The two young dingoes followed him and they soon disappeared into the bush, only to appear for a moment on the distant hill.

  There had been some talk of staying together, but Albert knew that he wouldn’t make a very good pirate, and there was not much chance that TJ would enjoy living anywhere shootings weren’t a daily occurrence.

  TJ had tried to talk Jack into going with him to capture the mystery ship. He told Jack that his limp might prove to be an advantage in the piracy business. TJ had heard that some of the best pirates had wooden legs, and a bad limp was just one step below having a peg.

  Jack had thanked TJ for the offer but said that he was a little old for hopping around a deck trying to hit someone with a cutlass—and any day now he would go back to someplace beyond the lava field and take up prospecting again.

  Albert knew he had no choice but to continue the journey he had started so long ago. He would walk toward the mountain that had been his guide ever since he had first left Ponsby Station. If Muldoon had been right and everyone who walked far enough ended up in Old Australia, there was a chance that walking even farther might take him to the place he was really looking for. The dingoes had let TJ know that Hell stopped long before it reached the mountain. If so, there might be another platypus out there somewhere the dingoes had never been.

  Albert had asked Jack if he would like to come with him to the mountain. He knew that Jack’s prospecting days were over and that leaving the old wombat alone with the dingoes wasn’t a good idea. Jack’s pride kept him from accepting Albert’s offer for a few days, but he finally let himself be talked into going.

  Jack and Albert made quite a show of deciding what to take with them and what not to take. In reality, all the things they owned amounted to very little, and they could have left an hour after deciding to go. But they needed to adjust to the idea of never seeing TJ again, and the time they spent packing helped make them feel a little bit better about leaving.

  TJ stopped on the crest of the hill for a moment and looked back toward Albert. He raised his paw in the fashion of the dingoes. Albert did the same. TJ disappeared for the last time, and Albert turned back toward the mountain. Jack and Albert walked through midday, stopping often to let Jack rest. The land around them was changing slightly. The dirt was more rust colored, rocky outcroppings were becoming more frequent, and acacia was giving way to stunted trees. Jack took no interest in his new surroundings, but now and then would look back in the direction of Muldoon’s last fight.

  A few hours before sunset, Jack told Albert he couldn’t go any farther. Albert dropped his pack and helped Jack off with his. He put the packs on the ground and half carried Jack to the shelter of some rocks a few hundred yards ahead of them.

  When Albert returned to the rocks with the packs, Jack was slumped against a large stone. He had tried to light his pipe but the effort had been too much for him. He sat there with his pipe in one paw and a box of matches in the other.

  Albert took the pipe and matches and put them on the ground next to Jack. He took a blanket out of his pack and put it around Jack’s shoulders. Jack thanked him and said he’d be ready to go in just a little bit. Then he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

  Above Jack’s head, Albert saw the picture of an animal carved in the stone. He looked at it closely, but windblown sand had eroded the picture and he couldn’t tell what kind of animal it was. Albert looked around him and saw that the carvings were everywhere: stick figures of men, outlines of kangaroos, bandicoots, dingoes, wombats, and hundreds of other animals, some he knew and others he’d never seen before.

  Albert walked around all the rocks and looked carefully, but he couldn’t find a picture of a platypus. There was a chance that there had been a drawing of one and the wind had taken it away.

  He sat down where he could keep an eye on Jack and see the mountain ahead of him. Even if no other platypuses had passed this way, the place he had dreamed of finding when he left the zoo was still ahead of him. He was sure that someday he would get there.

  He had walked into Old Australia with an empty bottle, and he would walk out having learned about fame and friendship. He hadn’t come from Adelaide to look for those things, but he had found them. He hadn’t discovered why he had come to the place he was leaving, and he probably never would. The why of things had ceased to trouble him, and he was content with what he’d been given. The soft drink bottle from the zoo was still in his pack, and he would carry it to the distant mountain along with all the things he had learned on the flats of Hell.

  The late afternoon sun lit the desert in front of Albert in a way he had never seen before. Piles of rocks floated in a bloodred sea of sand. Clumps of saltbush danced for him all the way to the mountain. Albert sat there in the beauty of that afternoon, glad to have Jack there with him, and grateful for days yet to come.

  After the desert disappeared in the darkness, Albert walked over to adjust Jack’s blanket against the chill of the night and found that Jack was dead. He adjusted the blanket anyway. Then he sat down next to the body and stayed there through the night, speaking to Jack about the life in Adelaide that had meant so little to him, as well as about all the things that he, Jack, and TJ had done together that had meant so much. By the time the sun came up there was nothing left to say.

  Albert laid Jack on a blanket where he would be able to see the light of every morning and any star that fell in the night sky. He placed Jack’s pack under his head and covered him with his old drover’s coat. Then he put a can of sardines next to him, hoping he’d get a chance to share it with Muldoon somewhere down the line.

  Albert packed his gear, put on his hat against the morning sun, and started walking into the desert toward the mountain on the horizon. Behind him, he could hear the stones be
gin to cry.

  About the Author

  HOWARD L. ANDERSON has had a varied life: he flew with a helicopter battalion in Vietnam and worked on fishing boats in Alaska, in the steel mills of Pittsburgh, as a truck driver in Houston, and as a scriptwriter in Hollywood. After earning a law degree, he became legal counsel for the New Mexico Organized Crime Commission. He is currently a defense attorney in New Mexico, where he represents people from Mexico charged with crimes north of the border.

  Reading Group Guide

  Discussion Questions

  In the preface to ALBERT OF ADELAIDE, Howard L. Anderson writes, “As with most stories, hope rather than truth wins out with each telling.” Do you agree or disagree with this assertion? How does the novel illuminate this idea?

  When he encounters Jack the wombat, Albert is made aware of his nakedness for the first time. How is Albert changed when he acquires clothes? Does this mark a shift in the nature of his journey?

  The animals Albert encounters in Old Australia are far more humanlike—though not necessarily more civilized—than those he lived among at the Adelaide Zoo. What accounts for this difference?

  “At the zoo, Albert had been an object of curiosity and ridicule. In Old Australia, he found himself an object of hate and mistrust,” writes Anderson. For Albert, his journey to Old Australia holds the promise of finding others like him, but upon arriving there, he is disappointed by what he discovers. What about being around people similar to us fosters confidence and a sense of security?

  Are the differences among animal species in ALBERT OF ADELAIDE comparable to the differences among human races? Ethnicities? Nationalities? Or is it a subtler or more pronounced distinction?

  Is there a hierarchy in Old Australia—among wombats, wallabies, possums, bandicoots, kangaroos, dingoes, and Tasmanian devils? If so, is it a fixed hierarchy or does it evolve over the course of the novel? How does Albert fit into the order of things?

  Albert is searching for Old Australia but quickly discovers that the place he imagines no longer exists—or perhaps never did. What have you discovered while searching for something else?

  In ALBERT OF ADELAIDE, it’s not always clear who is the hero and who is the villain. Is there an absolute code of ethics in Old Australia? If so, what is it?

  What are Albert’s core convictions? What are Jack’s? How does Albert learn to adapt to a world with morals that are at odds with his own? When have you had to bend your convictions to conform to those around you?

  A wild frontier setting and the dramas that arise from living there are elements common to most traditional westerns. How does ALBERT OF ADELAIDE both conform to and satirize this convention?

  Howard L. Anderson’s novel uses the elements of many literary genres—the traditional western, the fantasy, and the buddy novel. What aspects did he choose from each and why? How do they interact to form something new?

  At the close of the book, where do you think Albert is heading? Do you think it will it be worth leaving the only friends he’s ever known?

  Acclaim for

  ALBERT OF ADELAIDE

  “If Larry McMurtry had written Wind in the Willows, he might have come up with something almost as wonderful and moving as Howard Anderson’s ALBERT OF ADELAIDE. This is a novel that defies analysis and summaries. Trust me. Just read it.”

  —Mary Doria Russell, New York Times bestselling author of The Sparrow and Doc

  “One of the most unusual novels of the year—and extraordinarily touching—ALBERT OF ADELAIDE will have readers entranced while they cheer that platypus on.”

  —Richmond Times-Dispatch

  “Quick to satisfy with old-fashioned pleasures: action, adventure, fast friends, and unlikely heroes.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “One of the highest compliments a reviewer could inflict on a novel [would] be the sentence ‘I have never read anything remotely like this, and I am older than dirt.’ Which is a phrase I find that I have to use for Howard Anderson’s ALBERT OF ADELAIDE.”

  —San Francisco Chronicle

  “Rich in commentary on weighty themes: power, fear, prejudice, and the fluid nature of good and evil. Most of all, Albert is a charming and compelling hero with the strength to honor his convictions while inventing a new life for himself. Readers who enjoy contemporary fiction with shades of social/political commentary will appreciate this.

  —Library Journal

  “Will recall the unnerving allegories of Watership Down or Animal Farm… ultimately an exploration of the nature of prejudice.”

  —Washington Post

  “Trust me. You will love this book and will find yourself reading passages aloud to your loved ones, maybe even to the dog.”

  —Hudson Valley News (NY)

  “Required reading… If you’ve been searching for an old-fashioned Western with a platypus protagonist, wait no more.”

  —New York Post

  “Howard L. Anderson’s novel is an uproarious introduction to the menagerie of characters living just outside our enclosures.”

  —Barnes and Noble Review

  “Clever… Anderson’s descriptive writing immerses the reader in the landscape of Australia’s harsh, basalt-strewn wild country… Anderson encapsulates our feelings of alienation in a world where we all travel the same landscape, afraid to live—and die—alone.”

  —Santa Fe New Mexican

  “[Albert] is a delightful character who discovers he can be more than an object to be stared at in a cage.”

  —Kingman Daily Miner (AZ)

  “Totally original, genre-bending… [Howard L. Anderson has] hit a home run his first time up at the plate… one of those delightful and absorbing narratives that can be taken on a number of levels… You won’t soon forget the time you spend with ALBERT OF ADELAIDE.”

  —Bookloons.com

  “The quality of the world Anderson creates, along with the characters and the unique situations, does carry us away, or rather, draws us into Albert’s world.”

  —Roanoke Times (VA)

  “Remember the poignant beauty of The Wind in the Willows? Take those characters, switch them with wombats, wallabies, dingoes, a Tasmanian devil and a platypus, and then give everyone a firearm.”

  —Tennessean

  “Charming… delightful, sometimes harrowing.”

  —Shelf Awareness

  “In an industry sometimes enamored of clichés, ALBERT OF ADELAIDE is one of the most imaginative books published in years.”

  —FictionWritersReview.com

  “A wonderfully uplifting tale of friendship, survival, and healing… Once Albert has waddled onto store shelves in paperback, I fully expect book groups around the country to gleefully tear it apart, especially book groups with an emphasis on civic engagement.”

  —TimestageEmbassy.com

  “The sort of book for which summers on the Vineyard were created… Enough hijinks ensue to ensure a sunburn, as the reader tries to get in just one more chapter before having to move to the shade.”

  —New York Journal of Books

  “An entertaining adventure of self-discovery by, of all creatures, a platypus.”

  —AlamosaBooks.com

  “A pleasing adventure through the outback that tackles big themes while celebrating both friendship and independence… Anderson has built a desert world that could be scary for a lone zoo platypus—thankfully, he is never quite alone, and his story will leave readers smiling.”

  —BookPage

  “Charming… a touching and enjoyable read.”

  —FantasyLiterature.com

  “This was one of the best books I have read all year. I enjoyed every moment and hope you will pick it up and join Albert on his journey for self and utopia. And you have to love that cover!”

  —Pub Writes (Caitieflum.wordpress.com)

  Bookseller Praise for

  ALBERT OF ADELAIDE

  “Gunfight at the OK Corral meets Watership Down in this unique story of a duck-bil
led platypus, Albert, who escapes from the Adelaide zoo and heads north, looking for the fabled ‘Old Australia,’ the land of peace and freedom for animals. The characters are a riot—drunken bandicoots, gun-slinging kangaroos, the dreaded dingoes, and even a Tasmanian devil. This is more fun than you could ever hope for as Albert, shy and unprepared, finds his inner strength, becomes a cool dude—‘The Most Wanted Platypus in Old Australia’—and saves the day. This is imagination at its very best! Delightful and delicious!”

  —Susan Wasson, Bookworks (Albuquerque, NM)

  “I have just finished reading it from cover to cover and loved it! The characters are wonderfully described, the country descriptions are accurate, and the personalities of the characters, so fit the animals to which they are attached it’s wonderful! I think the book would reach all manner of readers—young and old, fantasy and fiction buffs.”

  —Beverly Schreck, Barnes and Noble (Fort Collins, CO)

  “Absolutely loved this quirky book that deals with so many themes—loneliness, where do we belong, how much it can hurt to be in the minority, friendship.”

  —Valerie Welbourn, Fountainhead Bookstore (Hendersonville, NC)

  “The setting was wonderful, Australia still has a Wild West ‘outlaw’ image. And, like any good western, the villains were perfectly sinister. It felt like Redwall/Brian Jacques for grownups. Plus, I love the cover!”

  —Lorna Ruby, Wellesley Books (Wellesley, MA)

  “Down Under fantasy meets the wild, wild west. Albert the Platypus escapes from the Adelaide zoo and sets out to find ‘home,’ the Old Australia. The characters—kangaroos, bandicoots, wallabies, dingoes, and Albert, of course—romp (or waddle, in Albert’s case) through a series of colorful adventures—bar fights, shoot-’em-ups, and a grand finale invoking more of a Civil War battlefield than anything you can think of in Australia.”