by Obert Skye
Ozzy climbed out of the sleeping bag and stood up. The bird and boy walked to the front of the small house. Even in the dark they could see Rin’s faded off-white robe, hovering closer like a shabby ghost. Ozzy let out a sigh of relief at the sight of a wizard.
“Oz,” Rin said, sounding like every kind wizard should. “What is this ordeal you’ve been subjected to?”
“Sorry to drag you into this, but I didn’t know who else to get ahold of.”
Rin put a hand on Ozzy’s shoulder. “Don’t be sorry—be amazed.”
“About what?”
“Well, when we last parted, you said that if I was a true wizard I would find a way here. Well, here I am. Right where I’m needed.”
“Thanks for making the hike.”
“You are an interesting and important human. It is my honor.”
It was dark, but Rin’s voice was so sincere that there was no need to witness a corresponding expression to confirm it.
“It’s dark out here,” the wizard said, stepping back from Ozzy. “But even in the black, your home looks fantastical. I should have brought a flashlight with me.”
“I have candles, but I don’t want to light up our location right now in case someone comes back. I thought I’d sleep outside until I can go in tomorrow and really take inventory of what’s been damaged.”
“Smart. So the forest shall be our cover and our bed. Now, do you have an outdoor hammock or padded lounge chair?”
“No, but I have some blankets and soft dirt.”
“Let me consult the stars.”
Rin looked up and sniffed three times.
“Yes, the blankets will do.”
Things felt considerably lighter with Rin there. The empty and uncertainty was less palpable.
The wizard, human, and bird all moved behind the house and crossed the tiny stream over the flat board.
Once they were each settled in their own spots, the clouds above broke up and drifted off. In their absence, there were stars as bright as any that had ever hung overhead. The billion points of light pulsated and blinked in a hypnotic fashion.
“Not that you don’t have your own news here,” Rin said. “But you would have liked the scene down at Bites. That bird is remarkable.”
Ozzy looked over to where Clark had settled. The book light was off and he was out.
“What happened?”
“Well, in coming to fetch me, Clark gave the entire restaurant a show.”
Rin told Ozzy everything. He filled him in on Sheriff Wills, acted out some of the customers screaming, and ended with the part where he didn’t have to pay for his meal.
“So, it was good for your rep?”
“It was,” Rin said.
“Any feelings or premonitions about who might have done this?”
“Someone with a dirt bike,” Rin guessed. “Clark said there were tracks.”
“Yeah, you’ll see them when it’s light. But what about any wizardly feelings?”
“I guess I am a little nostalgic for my family. Seeing my sister always makes me miss the good old days.”
It wasn’t what Ozzy was looking for, but he didn’t push it any further. After a few solid moments of silence, Rin spoke.
“Oh . . . were you asking about my wizard feelings regarding who did this?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure, I’ve got tons of those. Of course, you can’t literally weigh feelings here in reality, so a ton is just an estimate. Interestingly enough, feelings actually weigh something in Quarfelt. It’s necessary because of the need to exchange and use them for spells.”
“Really?”
“Wizards don’t lie, remember?” Rin paused. “That’s not completely true. There are times when a lie is not the worst option. Have you ever reasoned with a dragon using only the truth? Not a good idea.”
“There are dragons in Quarfelt?”
“Yes,” Rin said. “How else would people travel across the sea? Flying cars? Remember, J. K. Rowling took a lot of liberties. You see, Quarfelt is very different than reality. To begin with, it’s older than any place you can imagine. There are ruins and buildings there that are hundreds of thousands of years old. And the wizards who live in and amongst them are like me in many ways. They have spent time in reality, but fortune favors them with the ability to stay there as long as they please. I tell you there is no place like the mountains of Quarfelt in summer. Did you know that . . .”
Rin kept on talking. Ozzy would have stopped him, but the sound of his voice in the dark forest air and his tales of Quarfelt were intoxicating. Everything the wizard said sounded far-fetched and magical, but he was saying it with such sincerity and pride that it was hard not to believe every word.
About the time Rin started listing facts about the differences in reality’s dairy products and the ones in Quarfelt, Ozzy drifted off.
In the daylight, things looked even worse. The cloaked house had been thoroughly ransacked. The few things of value were gone and there was more mess than Ozzy wanted to clean. After going through the house with Rin, he sat down on the steps and tried his hardest not to let the weight of what had happened bring him down.
Clark rested on his head and Rin took a seat next to him.
“I know things look bad,” Rin said. “But I just happen to have a trick for clearing up the grim feelings.”
“Really?” Ozzy asked skeptically.
Rin pushed back the sleeves of his robe and shook his hands dramatically. Both Ozzy and Clark watched in anticipation as the great wizard prepared to say and do something magical.
“The trick is teamwork. Ozzy, you start collecting the torn boxes in the living room and I’ll work on cleaning the footprints off the couch. Clark, you can pick up little broken pieces and take them outside. We’ll work one room at a time and have this place put back together lickety-split.”
“That’s it?” Clark asked. “That’s the trick?”
“Nifty, right?”
Rin stood up and went back into the house to find a bucket and brush to clean the couch.
“Come on,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Working will make us all feel considerably better.”
Ozzy stayed on the porch with Clark on his head.
“As far as wizard tricks go, I have to say the teamwork one is probably the lamest,” the bird said.
“Yeah, disappointing for sure.”
Ozzy stood up.
“Wait a second,” Clark said. “Is he singing?”
The sound of Rin singing a song about cleaning drifted out the broken front door.
“That’s going to get annoying,” Clark squawked.
Rin got the couch clean in no time. Then he tackled the basement while Ozzy tried to find boxes that were still in good shape, and filled them with things broken beyond repair. In the daytime it was much easier to see how destructive the vandals had been. They’d turned over and searched through everything. Even some of the boxes that were filled with nothing but old papers and books had been tipped over and rifled though.
In the basement, Rin discovered that the little bit of remaining dry food was still there, as well as one case of canned carrots.
“Do you want to keep these carrots?” Rin yelled up the stairs.
“Of course,” Ozzy yelled back.
“They expired five years ago!”
“Keep ’em!”
Clark hopped around picking up pieces of broken plates and any other crumbs of trash and debris. He put everything he found in a half-crushed box that Ozzy dragged out onto the porch for him.
By noon, they’d gotten most of the first floor and the basement in order. There was a large pile of ruined boxes and unsalvageable paper in the front yard on top of the weedy lawn.
“We should eat something,” Rin said as he came up from the basement. Hi
s robe, hands, and face had dirt all over them. He walked to the kitchen sink and began to wash up.
“There’s not much to eat,” Ozzy said. “The bread and groceries I had were destroyed. But we have some basement food.”
“I’m hungry,” Rin admitted. “But not five-year-old-expired-carrots hungry. Do you have any eggs?”
“No.”
“You should get a chicken—endless eggs.”
“A chicken would be a nice addition,” Clark said. I’d love to have someone living here who really gets me.”
“How about you run to my car and drive somewhere to pick up something?” Rin suggested.
“Really?” Ozzy said. The prospect of driving excited him. “I don’t have a license.”
“Ah.” Rin executed a Frenchman’s wave. “You’re capable. Just don’t damage it.”
“I’ve never driven a car.”
“It’s much easier than a broom. Trust me.”
“Um, you both know how I hate to be the voice of reason,” Clark said. “Hate it. But did you forget that people are looking for Ozzy? Your car kind of stands out.”
“That’s true,” Rin agreed. “So . . . instead, take Mule Pole back the other direction towards Bell’s Ferry. There’s that gas station and food mart where you can get us something to eat. I personally wouldn’t mind a couple fruit pies. Oh, and some more zebra cakes!”
Ozzy thought about it. He had always wanted to drive a car. And he could run the two miles to the highway, drive to Bell’s Ferry, and be back before too terribly long. Plus the lure of the zebra cake was strong.
Rin sensed his wavering and said, “Also, I’ll keep cleaning while you’re gone. That way, when you come back it will be like a fun surprise to see how much progress I’ve made.”
“That does sound fun,” Clark said.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” Ozzy said. “But I need to know how to drive.”
Rin put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Sometimes the experience is the lesson. Just put your seat belt on first.”
“That’s wise and not at all helpful, so could you at least tell me what to do with my feet?”
“Yes,” Rin said. “The right pedal makes you go. Wait, you do know right and left?”
“I learned that when I was four,” Ozzy said, insulted.
“Sorry. You grew up in the woods so I wasn’t sure. The right pedal makes you go and the left pedal makes you stop. Take these.” Rin reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a keyring. He handed them to Ozzy. “Put your right foot on the left pedal and push it in. Put this key in the ignition slot and turn it to the right. That’ll turn it on. Then move the stick thing into drive. Once that’s done, you’re good to go. Oh, if you need to go backwards for some reason, press the brake and put the stick thing into reverse. That’s it.”
Ozzy had watched Rin drive a number of times and he felt certain he could mimic what he’d seen.
“Now you two go.”
“Ready, Clark?” Ozzy asked.
“I think so.”
The bird and boy took off out of the cloaked house with Rin yelling after them. “Zebra cakes!”
Ozzy started the little white car with no problem. Clark looked impressed.
“Not bad.”
“Thank you. Now for the stick thing.”
Ozzy put the car into drive and the vehicle whirred lightly.
“This is happening.” Clark jumped up onto the dash and dug in his copper-tipped talons.
The highway was clear as usual so Ozzy took his foot off the brake and pressed on the gas. The car lurched forward and onto the road. Keeping his foot down, they were soon moving at fifty-five miles an hour in the direction of Bell’s Ferry.
Ozzy looked at Clark. “This really isn’t that hard.”
“Yeah, it looks easy,” Clark said. “If I had arms and long legs and a body that was capable of sitting down, I’d be all over it.”
To Ozzy, driving felt like another milestone in his life, another open door that he’d stepped through.
“Wait,” he said. “What about the seat belt?”
Clark made a panicked squawk.
A sense of panic filled the car as Ozzy tried to steer and reach for his seat belt at the same time.
“I can’t reach it!”
“Watch the road. Here, let me help.”
Clark hopped down from the dash and bit down on the metal clip of the seat belt. He clawed and pulled his way onto Ozzy’s lap.
“Ow! Watch it!”
Clark let go of the seat belt and it snapped back. Ozzy tried to grab it, but as he did, he turned the steering wheel with his other hand and the car swerved into the opposite lane.
“We’re veering off course!” Clark yelled.
Ozzy overcorrected and the car jerked the other way onto the shoulder of the road.
“Hit the stop pedal!” Clark screamed.
Ozzy slammed down his foot and accidentally hit the gas instead of the brake. The car bounced off the side of the road and between the trees. The sound of branches scraping the side of the car were as bad as fingernails on a chalkboard. Ozzy turned into an overgrown meadow and then turned again to avoid a large boulder.
The third turn got them heading back towards the highway. The car hit the upward-sloping shoulder of the road and bounced back onto the asphalt.
Ozzy located the brake with his foot and slammed it down. The small car came to a screeching stop in the middle of the highway—with nothing but the trees and sky to witness what had just happened.
“So that’s what happens when you don’t buckle up,” Clark said. The mechanical bird was shaking like a nervous soda.
“That was the worst—”
“Car!” Clark interrupted.
Up ahead a semi truck barreled around the curve of the highway.
Ozzy put the car in reverse to back out of the lane.
“Wait!” Clark screamed. “Seat belt!”
Ozzy nervously grabbed for his seat belt. The semi blew its horn. It was getting closer by the second.
“Hurry!”
“What do you think I’m doing?!”
The seat belt wouldn’t click in the first time or the second time or the third. But on the fourth try, it clicked. Ozzy pressed on the gas and the car almost went off the road in reverse. He slammed on the brakes and the vehicle stopped on the shoulder, the nose of the car sticking out into the lane. The truck blew past them, its horn blaring, creating a wind that caused the small car to shake almost as much as its occupants.
Once the truck was down the road, Ozzy exhaled.
“That was really close.”
“I know—and I only have one battery life. I saw myself becoming part of this mangled car.”
Ozzy put the car into drive and pulled out onto the road.
“You’re still going to Bell’s Ferry?”
“I’m still hungry.”
The rest of the drive to Bell’s Ferry was much less eventful. When they got to the gas station, Ozzy parked far away from the building so that he wouldn’t hit anything.
Getting out of the car, they could see that the outside of the vehicle was scratched and dinged.
“Shoot,” Ozzy said. “Do you think Rin will be angry?”
“Not if you tell him the scratches came during an epic wizard battle.”
Clark flew into Ozzy’s hoodie pocket and positioned himself so he could see out the right side. They went into the gas station food mart.
Inside, the shelves were filled with all types of cookies and chips in bright bags. There were two entire rows of candy and one that had only nuts and jerky. A woman and a small child were getting sodas at the soda fountain and a clerk was ringing up a bald man who was buying motor oil, circus peanuts, and a burrito.
Ozzy mad
e a beeline for the zebra cakes. He grabbed four packs and a couple of granola bars. He got two large Sprites and a bag of cheese-flavored chips.
The clerk barely looked at him as he rang him up. Transaction completed, he put the items into two bags and handed them over.
“Thanks,” Ozzy said.
“No problem,” the clerk replied.
Ozzy turned and walked to the front door. He stopped suddenly. Through the glass he could see the man he and Rin had talked to two days ago in his trailer.
“Ed,” Ozzy whispered anxiously.
“What?” Clark whispered back.
It wasn’t terribly surprising to see Ed there. After all, he lived just down the street from the gas station. The really surprising thing was that Ed had pulled up to the gas station on a dirt bike. And he was wearing one of Ozzy’s dad’s old shirts.
The question as to who had beat up the cloaked house was no longer a mystery.
Ozzy backed up and moved behind the row of candy bars as quickly as he could. He hid behind a shelf of mints while keeping an eye on the front door.
Ed walked in like he owned the place.
“Mick,” he said to the clerk. “How’re things?”
“Fine. You?”
“Just thirsty. What’s Powerball up to?”
“Over two hundred million,” Mick replied.
Ozzy looked to his left and realized that if Ed was going for a drink there was a good chance he’d walk right past him. So he scooted down the row and crouched behind a beef jerky display.
Ed sauntered towards the refrigerators and didn’t notice Ozzy. He opened one of the glass doors and pulled out a couple of large two-liters of Coke. The lady with the small child had finished getting their sodas and wanted something else near Ozzy.
“Excuse me,” the woman said. “I need some of that.”
Ozzy moved over so she could grab a fistful of Slim Jims.
“Are you okay?” the woman asked. “It looks like you’re trying to hide from someone.”
Ed turned around.
He and Ozzy made eye contact and for a moment neither knew what to do.
Ed moved first. He stepped away from the coolers and approached Ozzy.